#but going into the office would be fine too just lock the doors no one is coming in anyway

[quarterlifekitty]

Out of the frying pan, into the flames

cw: dark themes, kidnapping, conditioning, implied sex slavery

Lately I’ve been thinking about Price finding you during a covert op. Deep in the interior rooms of a compound once belonging to a man deemed an enemy by whoever is currently signing the 141’s paychecks.

Killing the hawk, only to find the chick in its nest. Something left behind that will die if abandoned.

You’ve been conditioned well, curtesy of the man who laid on the pavement outside with one of Price’s bullets between his eyes. Perfectly well behaved, hadn’t made a single sound even when he’d burst into the room.

There’s a collar on your neck. A loose fitting dress. A small, but cozy enough room, though it has no windows and locks from the outside.

In the records of the man’s office, evidence suggests that you’ve been in the game a long time. Enough to have disappeared as far as anyone who might’ve known you is concerned.

And Price was just thinking— there’s an elegant solution to all of this. He’s a quietly selfish man. He tries to suffocate that painful, roiling tempest inside that tells him he’s owed something. That he’s sacrificed too much for one lifetime and gotten too little in return.

Pawning you off onto some government officials, trying to find a place for you to be awkwardly shoved into society— that wouldn’t be good for you, John tells himself.

It would be better for everyone if he did what he always did. If he took care of things.

He lets you hold his hand while his other delicately rends the microchip from under the skin at the base of your skull with a knife. Removes the chafing nylon collar. He has something much nicer in mind for you.

John’s always thought that if he were home more, he’d have a damned good garden. That’s just how he is— nurturing. Bringing things to their best.

You know how to be good. You know how to be seen and not heard. You know how to suck cock so well it could bring a man to tears. And for lesser men, that might’ve been enough. But to Price, you’re still a block of unchiseled marble. There is a beautiful thing in you, and he will free it.

You haven’t heard a lick of praise in years. Why be praised for what you should be doing? For serving your purpose? You tense in a way that’s— quite frankly— adorable the first time he calls you a good girl. He’ll soften you to it in time.

He tells you how much it hurt to see you the way he found you…. Being wasted. Pearls before swine. No such thing as bad dogs, only bad owners. When you smile, the pit inside him grows. Deeper, hungrier.

He needs to be your sun, moon, and stars. To have a beautiful creature that would wither and die without his touch. A doll needs someone to dress it.

Your new collar is fine, beautiful leather. Embossed with a winding filigree, art noveau motifs. The little metal tag has his name. He likes the bell on it— so he can hear it grow louder so quickly whenever he comes through the door.

Your wide eyes when he comes home with a gift… they kill him every time. How you keen when he starts to fuss over you. How you’re hanging on his every word. How he hears the bell following him as he takes care of every little mundane task around the country home.

In a perverse irony, it calms him when he has to go away. Knowing that if he was killed, if he never came home— your life would end too. You’d be shattered beyond repair. He had fixed you once, and no one would ever be able to go over his work. The threads of your fate had become tangled to his in a way that couldn’t be undone. You shed no tears for the man before him. But there would be no man after him.

You’re damned lucky he happens to be good at his job.

[fazcinatingblog]

Waking in the middle of the night thinking about those two ASIC things that were lodged a day late and how shitty my boss will be and how the superfunds need to be uploaded to BGL and that those two new guys keep asking dumb questions and one's quite nice, the other is really sour, almost grumpy, he's not really a bully, just really "wait I have to do that?" Like yes, you have to data entry into our software and I think I'm adopting his mannerisms especially talking to Sophia but maybe I always had that in me, maybe I've always been grumpy "no I don't know how long I worked on it, I kept getting interrupted" but also those stupid ASIC things I should've taken more notice of the date and I'm so dumb and there were two of them and

[pepperyduck]

this is love ft. kento nanami

a/n: a few sappy slices of life with my main man :3 enjoy as i dig up motivation to finish kinktober. 18+ mdni!

"honey?" kento's voice is muffled through the door as he calls out to you, "everything okay?" the door rattles as he tries to open it, knob jingling.

"uhm, yeah! everything's fine!" you nervously shout, much too loud, and rush to unplug the iron that had melted your husband's favorite shirt. you panic and yelp when the hot iron scorches the side on your hand, throwing the stupid device to the ground in a clatter.

"why is the door locked—are you okay?" he asks, voice becoming more concerned as he hears the movement inside.

"i'm—i'm fine! promise! just give me a minute!" you're rushing into your shared master bathroom to run cold water over your hand, and kento’s using a screwdriver pulled from thin air to break into your bedroom. tears well in your eyes when you catch the sight of kento seeing his favorite shirt burnt and melted to his own ironing board. "i’m so sorry…"

in reality, he doesn’t care about the shirt—he’s already at your side to inspect your burnt hand. after a few seconds, he speaks.

"did you try to iron my shirt for me?" nanami asks, a small smile on his face, "you didn’t have to do that." he turns off the faucet and takes a small towel to dry your hand off.

"i tried to, i’m sorry—i didn’t know it would do that." you apologize, looking down at the cold tile flooring in defeat.

"oh, honey." he coos, "it’s only a shirt."

"have you seen your father?" you ask your son, yū, who’s sat at the dining table, eating breakfast. he shakes his head no, and when you look at your daughter, mayu, she does the same.

"jeez," you grumble to yourself, bedroom slippers pattering down the hallway as you go to search for your husband. saturday mornings were his time to sleep in, but realistically, he never slept past 9am. and currently, it was nearing 10am.

you check everywhere. he isn’t found in the bedroom, living room, his office, the garage, the patio or in the little garden he kept. upstairs, downstairs, everywhere, he isn’t there. and when you check in your bedroom for the last time, you hear a soft buzzing coming from the bathroom. upon entering, you see your husband bent over the counter, leaning close in the mirror as he shaves his stubble with an electric razor.

"there you are—when did you get that?"

kento had always been a clean shaven kind of man, going to a barber shop once every two weeks for his straight razor shave. it hadn’t even crossed your mind he didn’t go after work yesterday.

but when he looks at you—you burst out laughing. he’d shaven most of his beard off, but a few fuzzy patches remained on his cheeks, along with a mustache grazing his upper lip. peach fuzz and a few knicks litter his chin. this was the first time you’d seen him unable to do anything perfectly. and he looks ridiculous.

"is it really that bad?" he groans, pouting when you wrap your arms around yourself in a giggling fit. you shake your head, although your unforgiving laughs are a testament to the opposite.

"no—no, let me help," you say after calming down.

after gathering a new razor and some shaving cream, you sit atop the counter and your husband stands between your legs. kento is surprised how flawlessly you shave his face, without creating any more marks or cuts. you giggle and kiss him, getting some shaving cream on your face.

"ken?" you shout from the kitchen, where you’re sat, working on your dissertation. it’s been a long road of blood, sweat, and many, many tears; but you’re finally getting towards the end. about to earn a doctorate.

"yes, darling?" kento replies, walking into the kitchen on queue, his timing impeccable.

"can you read over this paragraph, please?" you kindly ask of him, pointing to your most recent written paragraph. he leans over you, planting one firm palm on the table, the other on your back; his eyes read along the sentences and his fingers tap along your spine.

"ah," his finger becomes more focused on a certain word, "wrong 'there', honey."

"no it's not..." you instantly retort, squinting your tired eyes to read over your writing. and you're right, it was the correct one the first time. this was his version of teasing you. but kento couldn't keep up the face much longer before he's giving in with a shit-eating grin you didn't see that often. "you're funny." you groan as kento stands back up.

after reading over the paragraph for about the nineteenth time, you notice kento silently slipping you some tea before turning back around to keep himself busy with cleaning. you absentmindedly take a few sips, then some more...and you find yourself becoming more and more sleepy...

and you're out like a light, forehead pressed directly against the table as a puddle of drool forms on the papers below. kento already has a warm blanket straight from the dryer to drape over you, and you stir just enough to get comfy on your arms.

kento knows that his back will hurt in the morning, but he sits around the corner of the table next to you, settling his head into his arms to drift off to sleep alongside you.

music of your taste plays rather quietly in the kitchen. you stir the pot of soup and inhale the flavorful aroma that wafts through the air.

kento sets two bowls next to the stove, then rummages through your silverware drawer to find two spoons. the kids are at their grandparents for the weekend, it's only you and your husband, converted into the duo you were long ago.

you step away from the stove to go fill up two glasses of wine, the brand kento had as his favorite had slowly turned into your favorite over time, too.

kento fills up the two bowls to the brim of the delicious food, grinning on the inside at the simplicity of it all. just you and him. he lids the pot with the matching glass top and makes his way over to the table.

you set out place mats for the both of you, then place the wine glasses in their prospective areas. kento places the bowls on top of the mats as you grab the spoons from the counter.

in the kitchen, your bodies subconsciously dance around each other. carefully, in perfect tune and pace. delicate steps of a routine formed over so much time together.

in the universe, your souls are tied, striding alongside one another in each lifetime repeated.

and this, is love.

[luveline]

if you are looking for spencer and bombshell requests, what about the first time a girl flirts with spencer after they start dating, but bombshell is fully secure because she knows her worth and understands that he’s a catch? if you need more ideas i can squeeze my brain really hard

love ur brain pls keep squeezing it <3 fem!reader

You’re the cheesy girlfriend no one expects you to be. You change your phone contact for Spencer to ‘My Sweet Boyfriend’ with a heart, you hold his hand in stupid places (though you’d done that before, sometimes), you bring him coffee, you fluster when he kisses your cheek no matter your disposition —you're overwhelmed in the honeymoon phase, and everybody’s surprised. 

“That’s not very cool of you,” Morgan says, having noticed your ducked head, your smile dripping with a private pleasure and your cheek still shining with Spencer’s quick kiss. He’s gone to find plastic cutlery. 

“I’m not that cool when it comes to Spencer,” you say. 

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” 

Morgan is as pleased for you both finally getting together as anyone, even if he finds it foreign. It is weird to suddenly be openly in love with each other, and likely stranger for the team to see you in anything that isn’t total calm collection. 

“He’s so lovely.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Morgan says, more earnest now as he slaps a rolled sandwich down in front of you. “He’s a catch. I asked for no mayonnaise, was I supposed to do that?” 

Emily tucks her seat in next to yours. “He’s totally trapped by that secretary again, I hate to tell you.” 

You turn around. 

“Why would you tell her that?” Morgan asks. 

“What?” 

You peer out of the office door, where Spencer’s being chatted to by a stunningly attractive secretary. She has dark skin and darker hair, alluring almond eyes that light her sweetheart face with a bright charm. “Oh, she’s getting prettier,” you say. 

You’ve got Spencer Reid locked in. Nothing in you doubts that he’s currently infatuated with you. You don’t even care when he laughs at her joke, or when she dips her head bashfully toward him. 

“You better go and get your man,” Morgan says. 

“What for?” 

“She’s flirting hard,” JJ says. She’s only just looked up from her phone. “He’s gonna start blushing.” 

As if. You turn back to the table, unwrapping the paper from your sandwich with a happy sigh. Spencer looks so cute when he blushes, his cheeks turn pink and he smiles like he’s being tickled, it’s adorable. If that pretty secretary wants to do the hard work for you, it’s her prerogative. He’s your boyfriend. 

“I don’t need to do anything, he’s fine,” you say. 

You’re cutting your sandwich in half when you feel a presence behind your back. A familiar hand closes around your shoulder, a voice in your ear, “Thanks for nothing.” 

You giggle at his embarrassed tone, turning your face up to his, immediately delighted by his pink-tinged cheeks and neck. “You looked like you were having fun!” 

“You’re not gonna pretend to be mad?” he asks, leaning over you to open your sandwich. He pulls out a sad looking tomato and a similarly wilted slice of lettuce and closes it again. “Did you want a drink? I can’t believe you.” 

“Spencer, did you want me to come and get you?” you tease. 

“It would’ve been nice of you. Drink?” 

You laugh again, tugging him down by the wrist. “No, Spencer, I don’t want a drink, just sit down. What was I supposed to do? I’m not gonna pull her off of you.” 

“But why?” he asks, nearly not quite pouting. “She asked me if it was too hot in here for me.” He sits in the chair beside you, his hand dropping to the soft inside of your thigh as he leans in imploringly. “If you cared about me at all–”

Everybody laughs, including yourself. He’s clearly joking, and for once nobody on the team mistakes it for ineptitude, which seems to cheer him up. He gives your leg a rather bold squeeze considering who he is and where you are, and again when you gesture for him to lift his face to plant a kiss on the ridge of his jaw. “I do care about you, Spencer. Sorry I wasn’t jealous. Should we try again?” 

He turns your face away from your coworkers, eye to eye. “You’re making fun of me.” 

His hand trails to your elbow. “No,” you say, your skin tingling under his touch. 

“I don’t believe you. And I know you need a drink, they didn’t send your bottle of water. I didn’t manage to find those forks, either.” 

He gets up again. He hasn’t so much as glanced at his own food, patting your back in a promise that he’ll return before he edges out of the office and into the station’s bullpen. You take a smug bite of your sandwich. You can’t hide it.

“Told you,” you say once you’ve swallowed. You hadn’t needed to do anything, and you really aren’t worried about other women. “He likes me a lot.” 

“Understatement of the year.” 

You send Morgan a loving smile. When you glance over your shoulder, Spencer’s taking the long way through the office to the water cooler.

[hollyseb]

YOU’RE NOT OKAY, YOU’RE SHAKING - oneshot

CEO!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: swearing, violence

just a short one for this week bc I’m in the middle of exams !! as always, please let me know what you thing :)

You’d been working as Bucky's assistant for a couple of weeks. You settled in fairly well, although you had to admit you found him a little intimidating.

You tried your best to stay out of his hair, planting his schedule on his desk before he got into the office, and scurrying out when the clock hit 5. When you did face each other, it often involved you sending him a squeaky “hi” with a small smile, and him shooting you a curt nod.

That’s why when one of Bucky’s clients was rude to you, no… downright nasty, you chose to keep your mouth shut.

Rumlow.

God, you dreaded every time you saw him on Bucky’s meeting schedule.

It started with exaggerated sighs, then emphasised head shaking whenever he laid his eyes on you. It was almost comical, really. You’d snort at his behavior if he didn’t make you feel so conscious. You could feel the dislike roiling from him.

It wasn’t until today though, that he finally let his discontempt be known.

You were acutely aware of your controversial presence at the office. You were much younger than everyone else, pretty too. So when you strolled in with your baby pink sweaters, and the fresh bouquet of flowers on your desk, you knew people were judging you.

You walked out of your office, hands clutching disordered papers, and unfortunately, you weren’t watching where you were going.

You rounded the corner and immediately collided with a wall of muscle. You were opening your mouth to spew out a hastened apology, heat rising in your cheeks, when you were cut off.

“Stupid bitch”, the man muttered, shouldering past you.

You were frozen in place, paralysed by embarrassment, unable to breathe. Your feet carried you back to your office, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You sat down in your office chair, brushing your hair behind your ears when your office door opened gently.

God no. Your boss had seen the encounter. No, no, no. You were embarrassed enough. You didn’t need Bucky to see you cry. You kept your eyes locked on the floor as he approached you.

“Hey”, his voice much more gentle than you had ever heard it before, “are you okay?” He kneeled at your chair.

“Y-yes, I’m fine really, Bucky”, you shrugged him off, avoiding his eyes. Suddenly feeling conscious at the way he had positioned himself before you.

“Look at me”, he almost sounded like he was pleading with you. He placed a hand on your knee, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

You looked at him through blurry vision, afraid that the waterworks would burst if he paid you any more attention. You wanted to shove him away, to tell him to let you gather yourself, like a professional would. He continued, “you’re not okay, you’re shaking”.

“I just-”, you sighed shakily, “he’s always been like this, y’know just rude…”, Bucky listened intently as you rambled on, his eyes soft and sympathetic. He really listened to you.

When you finished your venting session, you felt undeniably lighter. Bucky’s hand still sitting on your knee. His other hand rose to wipe a stray tear from your cheek. You felt heat rise in your cheeks. You’d never seen this side to Bucky, he was… almost charming.

He cut your thoughts short, “come on, let me drive you home”.

You immediately shook your head, “no, no, I can’t let you do that Bucky, and plus, you’ve got a client waiting”, hinting at Rumlows presence.

“Him?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow at you sarcastically, “he was let go the second he called you stupid”.

You gaped at that, not expecting Bucky to fire one of his most frequent clients. You tried to start reasoning with him, about how one small issue couldn’t interfere with his business.

He interrupted your rambling, “you should’ve told me sooner, really”. He was guiding you up from your chair, placing a hand on your lower back and grabbing your bag for you.

Bucky drove you home, slowly and with care, keeping one hand on your knee the whole time.

When you pulled up to your apartment, your boss got out and opened the passenger door for you. A gentleman, as always. You smiled at that. Maybe your intimidating boss has a soft spot for you.

He ran a hand down your arm, “nobody will ever speak to you like that again. I’ll make sure of it.” His calm demeanor contrasting the grit in his voice. You could tell he would keep his promise.

You didn’t need to know how Bucky sped back to his office and beat Rumlow so hard his jaw broke. More importantly, you didn’t need to know the way Bucky reveled in it. The feeling of protecting you, avenging you. He was drunk on it.

Later that night, you received a bouquet of flowers, and a takeout from your favourite place. A smirk rising on your face… Bucky.

TAGLIST

@kandis-mom

[hoshiina]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

request: can i pretty please request a drabble where gen has a sibling and that said sibling and hoshina are dating? even better if gen's sibling is an officer/troop leader in the first division and partakes in the rivalry between the third and first division but outside of everyone's view— gen's sibling and hoshina are terribly lovey dovey!

warnings: reader wears short shorts in a scene

wc: 1200

This was not something that started today. Rather, it had been this way for as long as anyone could remember.

From the moment you had joined the 1st Division, you had always been bickering with Hoshina— just like your brother. It was plain as day you were none other than the younger sibling of Narumi Gen. Although you lacked the power and passion for fame that Gen had, you weren't any less competitive than him.

However, unlike your brother, you were better at neutralizing smaller size Kaiju than him— naturally making you more competitive with Hoshina. While you were incredible at what you did, you seemed to fall just a step behind of Hoshina most of the time. You were insanely good, but Hoshina was just a little better. You had beaten him just once in the neutralization test of smaller sized kaiju, and you just couldn't seem to do it again.

This was well known among most of the first and third division, and they did enjoy your playful banter that arose even in the toughest of times. It wasn't always easy to keep the mood bright when things got difficult, but the two of you would never fail to do so. They hoped this would never change and your rivalry would never fade.

However, there were things that had changed that no one really knew of. The two of you had started dating a year ago, and you were madly in love. It was your little secret. Well, your little secret that Gen accidentally found out about.

Neither of you had told Gen about this and quite frankly, the two of you were planning to keep hiding this from him if it were possible. It wasn't new that he despised Hoshina quite a bit, and he was extremely weary of the people you meet, especially men. Naturally, to find out that Hoshina was your boyfriend wouldn't exactly be celebratory news for him. Not to mention that Gen was loud when he had complaints. You knew he absolutely would not shut up about it. So it really wasn't the plan when he had found out.

You were in your room lazing around in a baggy shirt, specifically Hoshina’s shirt, which covered your short-shorts while Hoshina was in your kitchen cooking something quick. Until you got a shared place, this happened rather often. It was either him in your room or yourself in his room. However, a lot of your stuff had found a place in his unit and vice versa, so it was very easy for you to visit each other whenever. A little too easy, perhaps.

“Hoshina, you don't have to make anything fancy,” you said. “Anything’s fine. You had a long day too.”

“I'm literally making us ochazuke. It couldn't be easier—” he was starting to say when the door swung open.

“Guess who's here!” Gen had yelled while walking into your place.

Immediately you looked back at Hoshina in the kitchen and gave up. “Oh gosh,” you said.

“What did I say about ringing the doorbell?!” you yelled back at him.

“And what did I say about locking the door?!” he exclaimed back.

“I thought I did—” you started to yell, but then you remembered you had forgotten to lock the door after Hoshina came in, hands full of groceries to stuff your empty fridge. You were a little too thrilled to see him. “My bad.”

You knew Hoshina was going to scold you later— he's been telling you to be more careful about locking up properly.

Gen saw the extra pair of shoes by your doorway and immediately met eyes with Hoshina in your kitchen.

“Why the hell are you here?!” he yelled.

“Oh, can you please be quiet,” you said. “He's visiting.”

“Why, hello! That would be me!” Hoshina said, greeting Gen properly now that it's come down to this.

“Why is he visiting you, in your room, alone, with you dressed like that?” Gen continued to ask. He wasn't understanding nor did it seem like he wanted to.

You let out a sigh, you didn't mean to, but there was no getting around this one. “What's wrong with having my boyfriend in my room,” you said.

“Your boyfriend? Hoshina?” Gen said, horrified. He didn't think matters could get worse, yet here he was. “Why him?”

“Oh, why not him?” you asked. “He's the best I could ever wish for.”

Hoshina didn’t expect that— especially not to your brother, just like that. His eyes widened as his heart tightened. Oh, how he absolutely adored you. You said it so naturally, as if merely stating a fact. To you, that really was all it was though.

Gen had a lot more to say and complain about while staying far too long, long enough to steal some ochazuke for dinner (which he also managed to complain about) before you were finally able to kick him out. Yet, through all of that, Hoshina couldn't be happier to be with you, bickering away as you ate a 5 minute meal at a small make-shift dining table.

As soon as Gen finally left, you spread your arms out in front of you, asking for a hug, which Hoshina promptly returned.

“He's finally gone…” you said, relieved it was finally just the two of you.

“Not sure he liked me much,” Hoshina said with a smile and you rolled your eyes.

“Like we didn't already know,” you said. “I really didn't plan for him to barge in like that.”

“I have to admit, I do enjoy watching you two bicker though. My brother and I are not nearly as close,” Hoshina said and you rolled your eyes again when he said ‘close’. You wouldn't ever explain your relationship as ‘close’. “However, you ought to make a habit of locking your door. What if that wasn't your brother and I wasn't here.”

“Yes,” you said, quietly but clearly— but avoiding eye contact. “I will.”

“Thank you for saying that earlier,” he said, turning your head to face his. “To this day I don't know what made you choose me.”

You immediately realized what he was talking about.

“Oh, please,” you said. “Be serious. I am the luckiest person alive by your side.”

He kissed you and you kissed back, but he truly wouldn't let you go. You started hitting his arm, hoping he would let go so you could catch your breath. After what felt like the longest moments ever he finally let you pull back, letting you breathe.

“Soushirou, I can't breathe!” you said, trying to sound irritated, but your tone lacked the edge you were hoping for.

He completely ignored you, however, and pulled you back into a tight embrace.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” he said. “Just you and me.”

“In this small place?” you said, laughing a little.

“Absolutely wherever,” he said. “As long as you're here with me.”

[creamhoodie]

Hunted

synopsis: You're walking home late from work one evening and encounter a stranger..

Tags: yandere, smut, kinda dubcon, non canon characterization, afab reader, satoru gojo

You felt it again, that unmistakable feeling of the fine hair rising behind your neck. 

That feeling had been your loyal companion for the last few months, coming on and off. It came just often enough for you to not forget about it, but not enough to warrant true concern. You chalked it up to getting accustomed to this climate, you had recently moved to the area around the same time you first noticed it. Oh how naive you had been.

As you walked home from work after staying late to put in overtime, that feeling was accompanied by the rustling of footsteps. Soon enough the racing of your heart joined in, creating a daming trio. It was nearly midnight and though the office you worked at was only a few blocks away from your small town home, the route was dimly lit. 

Again the rustling permeated the air.

Pausing now, you turned around.. no one. 

It was only when you turned the corner that you peered over your shoulder and saw a tall male figure walking towards you. 

Instinctively, you picked up the pace but his long stride made it difficult to out pace him. 

“Hey are you okay? You seem shaken,” the male called out. His voice was smooth and confident and when he stepped into the light pole’s beam you understood why. 

This man wasn’t like anyone you had seen before. His skin radiant, free of blemishes, and his hair was a snowy white. Most striking were his eyes, a celeste hue that made it seem as though pieces of the sky fell into his lids. 

“You okay?” He asked again, laughing slightly. You figured he was used to the ogling. Who would suspect that someone who looked like they could be on the runway would live in the shadows? 

“I think so.. I was just walking home from work,” you voice said, still timid. 

“Me too, mind if I walk with you?” He asked. 

“Guess not,” you shrugged. 

He fell into a stride next to you, matching your slower pace. 

“So you’re a workaholic,” he teased. 

“I suppose. It’s only temporary, I need the money to pay my rent. I moved here not that long ago,” you said. 

He let out a tsk.

“You don’t have family to hold you over?” He questioned.

“No, I moved for my career.” 

Silence settled as the townhomes came into view. Why were you letting him walk with you? Why were you telling him personal things? It went against every survival instinct you knew. 

“Well this is me, I'm going to head home now,” you said as the two of you entered the neighborhood. 

“I’ll walk you to your door,” he said. 

“Oh you don’t have to-“

“I insist,” he said with enough permanence you knew it wasn’t up for debate. Perhaps he had been raised a gentleman and insisted on making sure you got home safe. 

When you were at your door you turned to thank him and saw he was watching you intently. 

“Thank you,” you said a little dismissively, hoping he’d leave now. 

“You’re welcome,” he said, with no sign of leaving. It was then you noticed how empty handed he was, a detail you had missed earlier due to his striking appearance.

“You don’t have any work equipment with you,” you stated suddenly your laptop bag on your shoulder felt much more heavy.

“Left my stuff at the office,” he replied coolly. 

Your heart began to thud.

The thud reminded you of the trio: the hair rising, the rustling, heart racing.

At the current moment they were all present except one.

One had stopped once this stranger had appeared and only silence had ensued in his presence besides his questions.

“I think I’ll be going inside now,” you said, quickly fumbling with the lock. 

As you opened the door and bolted in, his strong hand stopped it from closing. 

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” He asked, smiling, his brilliant white canines like daggers. 

You tried to force the door close but his strength allowed him to open it just enough so he could side step inside. 

You backed away and he closed the door behind you, locking it ominously. 

Even more frightening, your laptop bag fell off your shoulder and onto the floor with a thud so loud it rivaled that of your heart.

“Now we can be alone,” he laughed as if it were an inside joke only he knew. 

“Please leave. Please don’t hurt me,” you began to plead.

He raised a brow.

“Hurt you? I’d never hurt you, unless you ask me to,” he teased. 

His demeanor was a combination of playful and menacing. 

Bridging the space between the two of you, his lips came down roughly on yours before you could even process it. 

Moaning into his mouth from the shock, your head spun as he devoured your tongue with his own. He was a good kisser, his lips moving skillfully. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered once the kiss broke apart. 

“What?” you asked. 

By way of response, his lips moved to your neck, and your body betrayed you by responding, a jolt of heat formulating between your thighs. 

“Mine. All mine,” he said between kisses on your neck. 

“I don’t even know your name,” you stammered. 

He laughed against your skin.

“Satoru,” he replied before continuing to lay kisses on your neck with his soft lips. 

“Satoru…” you repeated more to yourself than to him but you felt his lips curl up in a smile. 

“That’s right, it sounds so much nicer coming from you,” he said. 

His lips came down on yours again, more passionate and hungry than before. Your head began to spin when suddenly he broke away.

“Take me to your bedroom,” he demanded. 

“What?” you asked, voice shaky. 

“You don’t like that idea?” he asked. For a moment his face seemed extremely vulnerable but then it was replaced by a stern look. 

“No it’s not that, it’s just- I don’t know you,” you stammered, hoping he wouldn’t grow angry. On the contrary, your words made him playful again. 

“You don’t need to. I know you, I’ve been studying you,” he said, his hands going to rest at your hips now, “I know you’re lonely, so let me take care of you.” 

You couldn’t even feign offense. You were so deeply lonely. Moving here for your career away from everyone you knew was no easy feat. You had the same routine work, home, and occasionally the store for errands. His hands traveled lower resting right on your thighs, one hand gripped the flesh lightly. You let out a whimper at that. 

“That’s a good girl, I can tell you want me. So it looks like I’m just gonna have to take us to your bed myself.” 

The next thing you knew, he lifted you up with extreme ease, throwing you  over his shoulder with your rear end a little too close to his face. 

“Satoru!” you exclaimed. 

He seemed to move through your small home a little too comfortably, a little too familiar. 

Finding your bedroom at the end of the hall, he threw you down on the bed. 

Your face flushed with embarrassment at all your trinkets on shelves and your plushies on the bed, by all accounts you have never had a man over before. 

Satoru only seemed to have eyes for you, however.

He bent down on his knees before you, parting your legs open. He jeered at the sight of your white panties, easily accessible due to your wearing a skirt. 

You gasped and clamped your legs shut again. 

His eyes narrowed at that. 

“Don’t be rude, let me look,” he said. 

A part of you felt violated while another part of you felt excitement. 

“Satoru, this is all so fast,” you said. 

He raised a brow. 

“Actually it is not going fast enough for me. I’ve waited months for this moment,” he replied. 

It had been several times now he made comments of the sort implying he had been watching you, and it shifted things into perspective. 

The hair rising that had been your one and only companion in this stage of your life was due to him. 

“How long have you been watching me?” you asked. 

“Since you first moved in,” he replied simply as if it were the most normal thing in the world. He inched forward until he was hovering over you on the bed, his hands resting along on the mattress. He kissed you again and you fell further into the cot. You hated how your body seemed to love his touch so much, you were so responsive to him. You even felt your panties begin to dampen with arousal. 

When the kiss broke apart, he rubbed the tip of his nose against yours, an act of unwarranted intimacy for two strangers. 

“I want you and I intend to have you. I won’t take no for an answer,” he said directly. His striking eyes were serious.

“Satoru you’re handsome and I’m not saying no but this is just so sudden,” you said trying to hold on to some shred of dignity. 

“I want you and I know you want me, what more is there that needs to happen?” He asked. 

He slipped back into his prior position in front you before speaking again: “If I have to prove how good I can make you feel, I will do so gladly.” 

His hands effortlessly parted your legs again and when you tried to clamp them shut again he held them in place.

“Stop denying yourself pleasure,” he said. He smiled upon seeing the wet stain on your panties, “look at you all eager for me.” 

His voice grew husky and his eyes were lustful. His fingers intruded their way into your underwear, pushing them aside slightly so he had access to your folds. 

Your breathing hitched as you felt him find your clit, the mere touch inducing a pulsing sensation that was impossible to ignore.

“Satoru.. please..” you said but you didn’t know what you were pleading for anymore. 

Was it for him to stop? Was it for him to keep going? 

“Hmm?” He teased as his fingers gently rubbed little circles on your clit. 

Eyes rolling back in pleasure, you felt your resolve to resist him begin to fade away. 

“That’s a good girl. See you don’t know what you want, you have to be shown,” he said. Suddenly he stopped rubbing. Your expression like you just had cold water thrown on you made him laugh. “Don’t worry, I have something better.” 

He removed your heels, tossing them to the floor, soon afterward your underwear followed as he rolled them over your knees and discarded them. Your skirt remained, but it was thrown over your plush thighs, no longer offering coverage.

“Fuck, so this is your pretty little bud,” he whispered as he parted your legs again. 

You were still pulsating, it grew more fierce as he had stopped before you could reach your climax. 

He leaned forward smirking and suddenly you felt his tongue at your folds. He began to slurp at your arousal causing guttural moans to slip out of your mouth and your back to arch slightly. 

Your hands went to his soft hair as you searched for something to anchor you when every part of you felt like it was setting afloat. 

He was ravenous, his mouth greedily tasting every part of you, and he was nearly abusive to your clit with his rough laps. 

“That’s it… that’s a good girl,” he coaxed as he felt your sweet release coming on. He talked you through it, telling you sweet nothings of how good you looked right now and how he had fantasized about this for so long. 

Three. 

Two. 

One. 

And your breasts raised and fell like setting suns as you caught your breath. 

“Now I want you to do something for me too,” he said as he began to unbuckle his pants. 

“Satoru, wait,” you began to protest again. 

“I told you I won’t take no for an answer. I proved myself and made you feel good,” he said. He took his pants off so he was in his boxers, his shirt soon following after. Calloused hands pulled your skirt off. Your blazer and blouse were soon discarded roughly. 

He hovered over you again going to kiss your lips, salvia intermingling with yours so when he pulled away again a translucent string connected the two of you. Leaning back, he pulled down his boxers revealing his big cock, some slight precum on the angry pink tip. 

“Satoru.. I’m not on anything,” you began. 

He had been right, you were so dreadfully lonely it had been a long time since you had been touched like this.

He smiled as if he suspected no different.

“It’s fine. I’d look after you and the baby,” he said. 

You whine at this.

“Please, be serious,” you chastised. 

“Fine, I’ll pull out. I’ll take care of everything but for now,” he paused as he lined himself up with you, he placed his dick on top of your labia rubbing up and down before he continued, “just let yourself enjoy it.” 

Your body was on fire, every nerve seemed to make itself known and you were embarrassed by just how aroused you really were. 

He was so dreadfully attractive, the perfect predator. Even his scent was intoxicating as it wafted into your nostrils from having him so close.

The truth was you were doomed to lose from the moment he set his sights on you. He was the hunter and you had been the naive and ignorant prey. Everything about him was inviting. In truth that’s why you had let him walk with you, why you had told him personal details. In the end you had been responsible for your own demise but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it.

Now you were going to have sex with your stalker, how fucked up was that? 

“You’re so fucking soaked,” he whispered as you felt him move his cock down and between your folds now. “Ahh.. fuck.. you’re so goddamn tight. How many guys have you let in here? Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t want to get mad.” 

You moaned as you felt yourself stretch to accommodate his impressive and imposing girth. He pushed himself deeper in, using his hands to wrap your legs around his waist so he could go even deeper still, until at last he was bottomed out inside you. 

He seemed delirious now, completely pussy drunk as he began to set a rhythmic pace of fast thrusts. 

“So big,” you whispered, but he heard you all the same, groaning at that. 

“Fuck.. I've wanted this since the moment I saw you.. Had to stop myself from taking you then and there-“ 

Your bed frame had begun to hit the wall with each thrust and you blushed to think of any neighbors who may hear. 

You could feel his pulse beating inside you as if it were your own and the lewd sound of wet skin slapping against skin only aroused you more. 

“Moan my name,” he commanded.

“Satoru..” you moaned. 

He groaned at that and his hands went to grope at your breasts, sensitive nipples spilling over onto his fingers as he continued to thrust into your mercilessly. 

“Such a little minx, you know that? I loved watching you.. following you.. coming into your place at night while you were sleeping.” 

Your eyes widened in fear at that, mortified.

No wonder he had been so familiar with your place. 

“Shh.. did that scare you baby? Don’t worry. I’d just watch you sleep is all. Sometimes I’d stroke myself off when you’d moan in your sleep. Believe me it took everything in me not to ram myself down your throat when you’d do that.. but even I have morals,” he laughed. 

You felt your heart racing in panic now, in fear of the invasion of your privacy but he took the opportunity to fuck you even harder than before. 

“‘Toru.. so rough,” you moaned as your hands went to his muscled back in an effort to stabilize yourself. 

“Fuck- your pussy is gripping me so much tighter. Thought you were scared, but maybe you like the attention.. hm?” 

His strokes became slower now, more deliberate. And for a moment his rough fucking turned into intimate love making as he kissed you, his tongue chasing after yours.

You felt yourself nearly close to your peak, and he felt it too, his lips moving to your neck biting as he returned to his fast speed.

He found your sweet gummy spot and his cock nicked it over and over, practically abusing it to the point of overstimulation that you felt tears of pleasure roll down your cheeks. 

“Satoru… it feels so good,” you moaned. 

“Yeah, I bet it does,” he teased, his own eyes half lied and full of lust.

He himself was enjoying this as well, enjoying how incredibly tight and warm you felt it was like nothing he had ever experienced before and well worth the months of waiting and meticulous studying of you. 

God, how he had enjoyed watching you, had enjoyed following you home from work every night. 

Tonight has been his breaking point, he couldn’t stay away any longer and when you didn’t resist him didn’t tell him to go away and that he could walk home with you.. well you had practically invited him to fuck you, or at least that’s how he saw it. 

“I’m.. I’m so close,” you whimpered underneath him. 

“Shh I know baby me too,” he cooed. 

“Satoru.. remember not inside-“ you tried to remind him, but your face was so flushed, makeup smeared, and voice so breathy, you couldn’t possibly mean that could you? 

Your words didn’t seem to have any effect on him as he continued to thrust into you. 

In truth he was imagining you pregnant, it would be a true testament that you were claimed by him, belonged to him. 

Because as far as he was concerned you did belong to him, he hadn’t invested all this time into you for nothing. 

“Fuck…” he groaned as he felt you gripping him even tighter still. 

Close so close.. 

Then the two of you finished and you screamed out in panic as his hot fluid rushed into you. 

“Shhh… it’s okay, baby,” he coaxed, shutting up your panicked babbles with a tongue filled kiss. You relaxed a little at that, he did have a way of calming you down with his touch, with his out of place intimacy which was far too familiar for what the two of you were to each other. 

He reluctantly pulled out of you and cradled you against his chest, stroking your hair and kissing your forehead. 

In this moment it was easy for you to close your eyes and pretend the two of you were lovers. 

Too bad the truth was much darker.

[fluentmoviequoter]

I'm Closer

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader

Summary: During a string of break-ins in your neighborhood, you have to stay home alone while Tim works a night shift. When the intruder gets close to you, you remember Tim is always closer.

Warnings: depictions of breaking and entering, anxiety/fear, vague threat, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 1.8k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

When Tim returns home, you’re sitting in the corner of the couch with your knees pulled up towards your chest as you type on your phone. He sighs and locks the door behind him.

“Where?” he asks, moving to stand behind you before he lays his hands on your shoulders.

“Two streets over,” you answer. “The Clarksons.”

You click the power button and toss your phone aside before you stand on the couch. Tim’s hands fall to your hips as he tilts his head back to look at you.

“How many is that?” you ask softly.

“Fifteen,” he replies. “There was one yesterday afternoon, we were investigating it all morning. Seven detectives and not a single lead between them.”

Leaning forward, you place your hands on Tim’s shoulders. He lifts your hips and pulls you carefully over the back of the couch. Before your feet touch the ground, you move your arms around Tim’s shoulders and hug him tightly.

“What if we’re next?” you ask against his neck.

Tim doesn’t answer right away, opting to tighten his grip on you as he moves one hand to smooth over the back of your head. He understands your concern. You have both been on edge since the second reported robbery. Fifteen break-ins in your neighborhood in less than three weeks is more than enough cause for concern. Each report makes Tim more eager to get the thief in cuffs but simultaneously discourages him from leaving you home alone. You’ve been triple-checking locks even when he is home, so he can’t imagine the weight you’re carrying when he’s gone.

“I’ve been driving by every few hours,” Tim tells you. “And Wade has patrol officers all over this area. We’re going to catch him.”

You nod against Tim. You desperately want to believe him but refuse to let your guard down. Tim mumbles something against your hair, and you pull back just enough to tilt your chin up.

He sighs, then says, “I have to work the night shift tomorrow. If you want to go stay somewhere else, I get it.”

You shake your head and take Tim’s hand, leading him toward your bedroom. “There really haven’t been any leads? Not even what kind of house they’re targeting or anything?”

“Nothing,” Tim laments. “Whoever this is, they don’t seem to be picky.”

“Comforting.”

Tim chuckles at your tone, then wraps his arms around you again. You never feel safer than when you’re in Tim’s arms. Neither of you are the kind of person to run from a fight, so you will stay in your home tomorrow, alone, and trust Tim and his fellow officers to find the bad guy before anything else happens.

“I could ask Smitty to park his car in the driveway for his hourly naps, try to scare anyone off with the sight of a police car coming and going,” Tim suggests.

“That would work great until they see the donut-hungover cop in it,” you joke.

“Call me tomorrow night, okay? For anything.”

“I will,” you promise. “I love you, Tim.”

The following night, after you kiss Tim goodbye and promise again to call him if you need something and to check in often, you walk into the kitchen and begin cooking yourself dinner. You aren’t hungry, you're too concerned with checking each car that drives by the window and ensuring no one can see inside the house. You walk through the house and check the locks as your food cooks. Everything is fine, you remind yourself as you carry your food to the couch. You turn on the television, hoping it will serve as a welcome distraction until you’re ready for bed.

Tim looks away from the computer monitor before him to check his watch. You’re probably getting ready for bed, and your last update was only a few minutes ago when you said everything was fine and the closest neighbors were home from work.

“Grey,” he calls.

“Two patrol cars are circling now,” Wade answers without looking up from his folder. “Everything’s quiet.”

Tim nods to himself, then clicks his keyboard to resume the security camera footage. Lucy yawns beside him, and Tim resists asking Wade which officers are in your neighborhood. If something were to happen, you’d be more likely to call Tim than dispatch, and he’d like to know who is close.

“She’ll be fine,” Lucy assures him softly.

“She better be,” he responds before watching a man in a bright red tracksuit enter a gas station with a gun in his hand.

You enter the guest room across the hall from your master suite with your phone in your hand to ensure the windows are locked. The windows on this side of your house aren’t very easily accessible, but you check them regardless. In your pajamas and ready for bed, you tug on the window latch and nod when it doesn’t move. Raising your phone, you open your text thread with Tim and begin typing a message. You pause when something makes a scraping noise outside. It goes silent, and several seconds later, you resume typing.

Just before you hit send, a loud pop echoes through the hallway before the undeniable noise of a window sliding open reaches your ears. Two soft footsteps follow soon after, and you begin to panic. You look around for something to defend yourself with, then suddenly remember that Tim told you to take cover first and then defend yourself only if necessary in a situation like this.

The closet door is open, so you grab the nearest object before sliding onto the floor beneath the extra clothes. Carefully, quietly, you pull the door closer to the jamb, then sit back in the dark corner and call Tim.

Tim pauses the surveillance video, zooms in, and gets a clear image of the suspect’s driver’s license as he removes his wallet to pay for a Red Bull. He rolls his eyes at the criminal’s stupidity but mentally thanks him for saving Tim some time finding him. Tim’s phone rings, and Lucy jerks as if she had been asleep.

“Hello?” Tim asks, pushing away from the desk as he waits to hear your voice.

“Tim,” you whisper, clearly panicked.

He stands immediately and lowers his voice to ask, “What’s wrong?”

You take a shaky, shallow breath that tightens Tim’s chest before you say, “Someone’s in the house. I was checking the windows, and then there was a pop in out bedroom I think… Tim, I can hear their footsteps, please come home.”

Tim jumps over the desk he’d been seated at, ignores the calls of his coworkers, and runs through the station to get to his truck. He knows he should alert Grey, dispatch, or anybody, but his thoughts are on getting home and ensuring you’re safe.

“Talk to me,” Tim requests as he slams the door of his truck closed and starts the engine.

“Tim,” you whimper, clutching your phone as your hands shake. “I think they’re going down the hall.”

“I’m on my way,” he promises. The radio in his truck lights up, and he hopes someone saw something and the officers in your neighborhood are on their way.

You murmur something that Tim can’t decipher but remain silent when he asks you to repeat yourself. The truck’s transmission revs as he presses the accelerator to the floor, fighting to keep his mind away from the worst-case scenario. As he turns onto your street, setting a new record for how fast the commute has ever been driven, Tim slams the gearshift into park several houses down. He leaves the truck running with the door open as he runs down the street and unlocks a side entrance to enter.

“I’m here,” he whispers to you before entering the house. He puts his phone in his pocket and raises his gun as he moves carefully through the house. You’re hiding somewhere but thought the unwelcomed visitor was coming toward the main part of the house. A door clicks somewhere down the hall, and Tim abandons his goal of clearing the kitchen to find you.

In the guestroom closet, you hold your phone to your ear with one hand while pressing the other to your mouth to muffle your breathing. The door into the bedroom clicks as it is pushed open farther, and you push yourself against the wall behind you. Tim is in the house somewhere, but your mind is racing with panic and fear. You peek through the gap in the door and see a masked intruder moving carefully through the room. Suddenly, he turns toward the closet, and you close your eyes.

Tim looks into your bedroom, where the window latch has been blown off by a small explosive device, but sees no evidence of anyone currently inside. The door across the hall, however, stands wide open. With his gun ready, Tim crosses the hall and presses his back to the wall before stepping inside.

“LAPD, stop where you are,” he demands.

The masked man stops, halfway between Tim and the closet. Tim sees the closet door isn’t completely closed and wonders if that’s where you are. Sirens sound outside, and Tim takes another step into the room.

“Hands up,” he instructs. “Interlace your fingers and place them behind your head.”

“You’re too late,” the man taunts.

Tim ignores him, and how his stomach rolls at the idea that anything could have happened to you while his phone was in his pocket. “Kneel.” Once the man is on the ground, an officer announces his presence downstairs, and Tim shoves the man unceremoniously toward the hallway and yells his location and that there is one in custody.

Then, Tim abandons his duty to keep the suspect secure as he turns toward you. He opens the closet door carefully, then drops to his knees. When you see him, you lower your phone and reach for Tim. He takes your hands and pulls you closer, whispering promises that you’re safe and he will never put you in this position again.

“When I said to always have something to protect yourself, I meant something a bit more substantial than a bowl,” Tim says, reaching for the jewelry tray you grabbed before hiding.

“It’s heavy,” you defend weakly.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“You’re here now.”

Tim pulls you closer, blocking out the noise of the officers apprehending the intruder, and your adrenaline wears off as you realize you can feel safe at home again.

“How did you get here so fast?” you ask as Tim helps you stand.

“Don’t tell Wade but I broke a few laws.”

You laugh and then furrow your brows. “How did he get in?”

“Right,” Tim remembers. “We need a new window.”

“He was really close,” you murmur.

Tim gently holds your chin as he kisses your forehead. “I’m closer,” he vows before cupping your cheeks and kissing you.

[star-suh]

Do Your (Blow)Job

Kim Mingyu x Male Reader

cw: office au, handjob, blowjob, assjob (i just made that up, don't know if that's how it's called 😭), teabagging, rimjob, facial, cum eating, just yn pleasing mingyu, creampie, there's no sex here btw, blackmailing, sort of exhibitionism, semi-public sex, spanking but just one time.

—

it's 4:00 am and the alarm is ringing and yn gets up to turn it off, "god, i hate my life," he exclaims, muffling his screams with his pillow. today his boss called him early because he had a very important meeting and yn was the perfect person to make sure everything was fine.

“he's such an asshole, making me go at five am when the meeting is at nine ugh!.. i hate his ass with passion” he was murmuring while walking quickly towards the building.

yn started to hate his boss, mingyu, when he unexpectedly began to overload him with work, yes, he is his secretary but that doesn't mean he has to do everything, now he did not have a moment of rest.

mingyu made him go to the other side of the city just to buy his favorite coffee and not to mention the times he had to clean his office after his "meetings" with daughters and sons of important industry people to “seal deals”.

like always, yn went to get his boss’ coffee, he came just in time, way before the meeting ended, "here's your stupid coffee” he murmurs as if mingyu were in front of him. “shit!! i need to go to the bathroom” he exclaimed going to his boss’ thinking that he wouldn't notice because he was busy.

the meeting was over, unfortunately for yn mingyu arrived at his office and locked the door. yn was too busy checking the elegant bathroom that he didn't hear his boss arrive "this looks much more luxurious than my entire house”.

mingyu unzipped his pants and pulled out his dick, he started stroking it while watching a video on his phone that one of his many hook ups sent. thick pre-cum drops rolling down his thick shaft “fuckk” he moans quietly.

suddenly the bathroom door opens and mingyu yelps in surprise, both stare at each other for seconds but it felt like hours, yn's eyes went down staring at the other’s hard dick, “oh my fucking god it's huge” he almosts yells that last word.

“shit yn what were you doing at my bathroom” mingyu questioned, turning around to hide his dick. then an idea came to yn's mind “damn boss you're such a pervert” he smirks “it would be a shame if someone finds out that such a respectable gentleman is a naughty man”.

“fuck off” he says angrily “what do you want?”; “an increase in my salary and to stop overloading me with unnecessary work" the other responds quickly. "mhmm… smart" mingyu praises "ok, deal".

yn was ready to leave when a pair of strong arms pushed him against the door, mingyu was behind him, his thick dick rubbing against yn's clothed ass "where are you going? as my secretary you should already know how i like to seal deals" his deep voice making yn's knees feel weak "but mingyu... boss.. i don't.."; "what happened with that confidence from before? i thought you were a tough one”

yn's hands were going up and down his boss’ dick while he squirted more lube on top of it “fuck your doing a good job” he said throwing his head back due to all the pleasure he's feeling. yn decides to speed up the pace, wanting to see his boss' dick squirting jets of white sticky cum, he feels the dickwa aas throbbing and getting ready to came but mingyu stopped him, “not yet, i want to use you properly”.

mingyu unzipped the other's pants and pulled them down along with his underwear “holy fuck look at this ass” he spanks it leaving his hand printed on it “if i had known that you have all that under your pants i would’ve made you my bitch a long time ago”. he puts his dick right in between both cheeks and starts to rub it, the friction producing a pleasurable warm sensation “if this is how it feels outside it must be way better inside, don't you think?”, yn was too flustered to speak “y-yes boss.. i’ll make sure to make you feel good” he bit his lip trying to contain his moans. “you better do, but that's for another day”.

“come in” mingyu said when someone knocked on the door, it was one of his employees. they started to talk about business and all that while yn was under the desk sucking his dick. he was being careful to not produce a moan or a wet sound, if someone finds out about what he is doing he would be doomed.

as if it was a tasty lollipop yn kept sucking and licking mingyu's salty pre-cum “mhmm” he let out a not so quiet whimper that mingyu has to disguise as if he was yawning “i'm kinda tired so can we talk about this tomorrow?” mingyu demanded and the employee just nodded and left the office.

the taller pulled yn out from under the desk and sat him on top of it, discarding his pants “it's my turn to make you feel good”, his face was now inches away from the other’s hole, his breath making yn’s hole to clench. “it looks so tasty” mingyu’s said in a low whisper as if he was hypnotized by that sexy ring of tight muscles. the boss keep teasing yn, kissing around and blowing air around that desperate hole “please, just do it already” yn cried, tears starting to form on his eyes, mingyu laughs “okay as you wish, sir”.

mingyu bury his face in between yn’s ass, his tongue reaching deep inside that hole. mingyu was trying so hard to reach yn’s prostate with his tongue that his grip was leaving marks on the other's ass, “fuck” yn bit his finger trying to contain his moans, he slowly pushed his hips back and forth trying to meet his boss’ tongue thrusts. after some minutes mingyu and yn were reaching their climax, mingyu’s dick smeared and dripping a mix of pre-cum and lube, his face smeared in thick saliva with some of it dripping down his chin. meanwhile yn kept stroking his dick “keep going i’m c-close” and as he said he came spurting white ropes of cum over the shiny glass of the desk.

mingyu stopped his rimjob, threads of saliva connecting his face with that ass, god he really loved eating it, “look at this sloppy mess” he says getting up and jerking his dick right above the puckered hole. with some final strokes he aims the tip to the hole so all the cum goes inside of him and to make sure that no drop is wasted he used his fingers to maintain the hole open.

yn with his face down against the desk rolled his eyes back when he felt the warm liquid going deep into his insides.

“come here” mingyu grabbed yn by the shoulders and make him kneel again “look at you, you're a hot mess… and that made me hornier” his dick got hard again and he started to stroke it his balls resting on above yn’s nose and mouth so he can play with them, the intoxicating smell of it making him feel dizzy “give me that load sir” yn begged while kissing the other's shaft, “that's the idea” mingyu says as he came again covering his secretary’s face with his cum then scooped it with his tip and put it all on the other’s mouth who licked clean the other’s dick, not leaving a single trace of sperm on it, “good job” the muscular man whispers and slaps gently yn's cheek who just smiles feeling proud of what he did.

people started to notice how mingyu's meetings with members of other companies lasted less time, many assumed that he had found a partner and that was why he stopped his habit of sleeping with them, but actually mingyu no longer sell deals with them he now prefers to celebrate the deals with his secretary.

[seungcheorry]

jihoon likes to help you out more than he likes to tease you - you may not believe him, but he does.

so when he tells you to trust him, go to your office's bathroom and touch yourself, he knows what he's doing.

"just tease yourself a bit, love", he casually says on the phone while you can still hear him clicking and typing things away on his studio. "rub the parts you like".

jihoon smirks when he hears you groaning for the first time. you've been way too stressed, you deserved that little time for yourself.

"okay, now push one finger in for me~"

"jihoon, someone can come in-"

"did you lock the door?", and when you hum a yes, he chuckles. "then we're fine. one finger in, now".

you do, and you sigh to the feeling.

"does it feel good? okay, now push another one for me, baby".

jihoon stops working when he hears your first moan, now with two of your fingers knuckles deep inside you.

"curl them up, i know you like it when i do that, love", jihoon tells you, and loves the sound you make when you reach your sweet spot. "there you go~ now thrust your fingers, baby, fuck yourself good".

he doesn't need to tell you twice, you're already moving your fingers before he finishes his sentence. it feels good, and jihoon must know that too for the way you moan and for the sounds that your fingers are making.

"do you wish it was me fingering you though, love? i would love to do it for you... maybe even use my tongue".

"fuck, jihoon..."

the bastard just laughs at you, closing his eyes to imagine you coming closer to your climax. your moans are getting a bit more desperate.

"shit, i'm gonna cum- talk to me, babe, please".

"i can't, i'm busy thinking about having my face between your thighs, tongue fucking you until you cum in my mouth- shit, i need that now, yn".

and then you cum, getting both your fingers all dirty in the process.

"you better suck your fingers clean, taste yourself, baby", jihoon says. "i'll do that too later tonight, i promise".

[macbethsymphony]

Negotiations

Dracule Mihawk x Reader

wc: 5.2 k

tw: NSFW, 18+, this is just pure filth guys, it's 5k of smut, there's no plot. Edging, overstimulation, slightly dubcon, fingering, Mihawk has the hyperfocus of a god? this is highly toxic and slightly unethical ngl

Summary: The tale of how a negotiator convinced the marine hunter to consider becoming a warlord.

AO3

Eat, drink, nap, kill marines, drink some more, sleep, and repeat. That was the unvarying routine of Dracule Mihawk, marine hunter. At least, that’s what he’d been up to, these past two months.

Marine hunter. What a fucking joke. Marine killer was more accurate. The man was deranged, his actions driven by an insidious boredom that turned slaughter into a twisted game. It was painfully obvious that he was merely toying with the Marines, savoring the macabre sport, desperately looking for someone who would match his skills. If you had your way, you’d be plotting his demise instead. Though you supposed if you were here, it meant they’d all failed.

Tsuru’s words echoed in your mind, firm and unyielding: “I trust you are able to bring him to the table,” she had said. “You are our best negotiator, after all.”

So, you grit your teeth and set the scene. For in no world was disappointment an option; failing your superiors, especially Tsuru, was unthinkable.

Your officers were meticulously positioned, the bar’s usual faces replaced by those of disguised operatives. Only a few of the establishment's staff remained. A strategic decision to ensure the venue’s operations ran smoothly without drawing suspicion. The air was thick with tension, and you were acutely aware that the slightest misstep could unravel the entire thing. The possibility of disaster loomed large; a single error could transform this carefully orchestrated meeting into a chaotic bloodbath, with no chance of containing Mihawk’s whims.

Your heart pounded with an almost unbearable intensity, a drumbeat of anxiety and anticipation. You reminded yourself that your team were experts, each one adept at their role, and that every detail had been rehearsed to perfection. You could do this. You would succeed where all others had failed.

The door to the bar creaked open, drawing your attention as you smoothly transitioned into your assigned role. “Whiskey, neat, please,” you requested from the bartender, your eyes never leaving the imposing figure in the corner. “Actually, I’ll take the whole bottle.”

You watched with a tight-lipped smile as Mihawk, with deliberate nonchalance, made his way behind the bar. He selected two bottles of fine wine, his movements leisurely, and then settled into his usual spot, a booth in the corner, away from everyone. A fleeting, almost imperceptible smirk played on his lips as he uncorked one of the bottles and poured himself a glass. Your breath caught, a shiver of doubt sliding through you, but you forced yourself to look again. 

Good. 

It was nothing more than a trick of the light.

You downed your glass, slamming it with a bit too much force on the bar counter. 

Everything was falling into place. You had him where you wanted him; all you needed to do was stick to the script. You adjusted your dress, the provocative cut emphasizing every curve. Confidence surged through you. You knew how to handle men like him. This would be no different. 

You approached him, whiskey bottle in hand, your movements practiced and deliberate. “Hello, handsome,” you purred, your voice a silky caress. He would be putty in your hands before long.

But as his gaze locked with yours, the air between you seemed to thicken. The intensity of his stare left you breathless, feeling strangely vulnerable. The mastery you usually wielded over people faltered. You couldn’t decipher him, couldn’t read him. At all.

This was not how it was supposed to go.

Fuck.

Fuck.

You were always in control, always able to manipulate the situation with ease. You were the master and they the puppets. The fact that Mihawk’s inscrutable expression was completely impenetrable threw you off balance.

You were already committed, though. Backing out now was not an option.

“Mind if I sit?” you asked, voice dropping to a husky whisper. You allowed your fingers to trail delicately along his shoulder and then drift over the exposed skin of his chest. Your gaze flickered to the other banquette, the seat occupied by the bulk of his massive sword, back to him. The invitation in your eyes was unmistakable.

For a moment, you thought you glimpsed a spark of amusement in his gaze, but it was so fleeting that you couldn’t be sure. Mihawk tilted his head slightly, the feather on his hat accentuating the movement with a languid grace.

“Be my guest,” he said, his tone flat and devoid of emotion.

He made no move to shift from his position, no move to shift the position of his sword. You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to maintain composure. The arrangement was deliberate—there was no easy way for you to sit without essentially stepping over him and trapping yourself between him and the wall.

He was toying with you, you realized with a flicker of frustration. But if he wanted a game, you were more than capable of playing along. You were a master of your craft after all. With a deliberate motion, you took the third, more unexpected option. You straddled him, the hem of your already short dress rising even higher as your legs settled to his side. 

You held his gaze steadily as you sipped from the whiskey bottle, slamming it behind you with a practiced flourish once you were done.

His gaze didn’t shift as he drank in your form, lingering on your curves, then back to your features. You did the same, taking him in, the sharpness of his jaw, the solidity of his muscles. You’d already known he was handsome, hours of looking at pictures had told you that, but by the gods above he was almost ethereal. You prayed for a moment that the heat you felt was from the alcohol you just downed. But you knew it wasn’t.

“Bold.” The word snapped you out of your thoughts. “For a marine that is.”

Your spine went cold at the statement. 

He knew. 

Of course, he knew. 

But you were still alive, which meant he was still willing to entertain this scene. 

It’d been a power play you realized a touch too late. He’d just flipped the script you had so carefully prepared. 

Interesting. 

Absolutely thrilling.

You hadn’t expected that he’d be a worthy opponent and you’d let him earn the first point in your carelessness. It didn’t matter, however, you could easily recover from such a small blunder.

You leaned in closer, your breath mingling with his as you whispered, “Boldness is often rewarded, don’t you think, marine hunter?” Your fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the marble-like skin, the uneven rhythm hoping to distract in its randomness.

Mihawk’s gaze darkened, his eyes flicking down to your lips before returning to your eyes. “Rewards come in many forms,” his voice was a seductive drawl. “Some more satisfying than others.”

You stopped the patterns, nails digging tenderly into hard muscles as you traveled down.

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, the sound low and inviting. “Well, I do aim to satisfy.” You pursed your lips, emphasizing the word. Your fingers continued their path, slipping to rest on his belt buckle, playing with the metal. “But satisfaction is a two-way street. What would it take to make you happy, Mihawk?”

His hand moved, a distracting caress tracing up your thigh, stopping right under the hem of your dress. The touch was electrifying, sending a shiver down your spine. “Happiness is a fleeting emotion,” he said, his eyes boring into yours. His fingers roamed back down, nails digging softly in the plush skin, mirroring your previous actions. “I prefer something more... enduring.”

Fuck.

He was good.

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. “And what might that be?”

He smirked, a predatory gleam taking over the amber hues of his eyes. “Isn’t that your job to figure out, little marine?”

You bit your lip trying to come back. He wasn’t just good, he was almost your match. You could feel the unbridled heat of desire starting to swirl through your veins at the challenge. “I’m very good at my job,” you whispered, your voice dripping with insinuations as you leaned closer, your lips a hair’s breadth away. “I’m sure I can find a way to please you.”

Mihawk’s fingers traveled back up your thigh, right past the hem of your dress, dug in before the curve of your rear, the pressure a mix of pleasure and pain. “I wasn’t aware, the marines sent whores to negotiate their deals.” He looked down at you, a sneer nearly breaking his lips. 

You felt a sliver of satisfaction. He’d almost cracked. Soooo, he had standards. He didn’t like things too easy, did he? You could play with that. 

You laughed, your hands roaming up, palms flat against his chest. You traced the sharpness of his jaw. “Oh no.” You brought the tips of your fingers to his lips. “I’m not here to whore myself out. But if it brings you to the table, I’m sure I can find the sweetest cunt on the grand line for you.”

His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing through them as he considered your words. You were suddenly reminded of how he held every card, how you were at the mercy of his every caprice. You only happened to hold his attention for now, only happened to entertain him enough for him to let you and your squadron live. He was THE marine hunter. It didn’t matter if every officer in the establishment were to pull their weapons out and point at him. He’d be fine and you’d all be dead. The tension between you crackled like a storm about to break, every touch and every word a loaded gun.

“What a tempting offer,” he finally said, his voice a low purr that sent your heart racing in more ways than one. “But I find that I prefer a more... personal touch.”

To punctuate his point his hand reached further, against the curve of your ass, before coming back and digging in your hip, pressing you down to him. You almost moaned, every fiber of your being fighting the primal urges that strained to be free. You let out a silent gasp instead. This was going too far, getting out of your grasp. A mistake. An admission of your desires. You were slipping more by the moment. You moved your hand up, giving the signal for everyone to vacate. You’d have to do this alone, you wouldn’t risk so many lives on your inability to handle one man.

Mihawk noticed the subtle movement of your hand, his eyebrow arching with curiosity and a hint of amusement. “Calling off your dogs, are you? Either you’re very confident or very foolish,” he commented, his tone teasing yet edged with something sharper.

You felt a touch of annoyance prick at the edge of your mind. He was rubbing it in. Toying with you, trying to tease out reactions. Even though you felt anything but confident, you flashed a daring smile, the tension between you sparking with the undercurrent of unsaid words. 

You resumed your mindless patterns on his chest, slowly getting lower and lower. "Let's just say I would rather handle the finer details of these negotiations with more privacy. Make room for more... satisfying outcomes."

His fingers continued their dance along your side, dipping dangerously close to forbidden territory. Mihawk's smirk deepened as he seemed to see right through you, fixed right on your uncertainty. You felt yourself flailing, felt yourself losing your composure. 

“Privacy can certainly be... conducive to more fruitful negotiations,” he murmured, a dark caress relishing on the hold he held on you. He leaned in, reaching for his glass of wine. He took a slow sip, watching the gears turn in your head before putting it back behind you. “So what is it you want?” He asked, his hand grabbing to your chin, moving your head side to side with an appraising look, making you look at him.

You took a steadying breath, leaning into his touch, playing along with his game. “Oh not much,” You cooed, hand reaching his at your face, splaying it along your cheek, brushing your lips on his palm. ”I’ve only been instructed to get you to the negotiation table, nothing more, nothing less.” You dragged his hand down, spreading it along your throat bringing it over your heart. “I’m sure I could at the very least get you to consider it?”

It all happened too fast. You heard the sound of glass shattering on the floor before you registered the change in perspective. The hold he had over your throat was harsh as he pinned you down to the table, the remnants of the wine pooling in the tile like spilled blood.

“You think you can just waltz in and sway me with a few promises, like a common man?” There was something nearing disappointment in his tone and you realized you’d messed up. You’d been too hasty, too forward, he had been hoping to play longer. “How about this little marine, show me how badly you need me to do what you need and if you’re entertaining enough, I might consider it.”

The shift in Mihawk’s demeanor was almost terrifying in its intensity, and you struggled to keep your composure as his grip tightened on your throat. Your mind raced, trying to find a way to turn the situation back in your favor. The room was deathly silent in its emptiness, the tension palpable and if it wasn’t for the stiffness of his crotch against yours you’d think you’d lost all of your cards.

It might just get you killed but you arched your back beneath him, pressing into him. Your thighs trembled at his side as you struggled for breath but still, your hands grasped at his over your throat, pushing him further against you, cutting your airflow almost completely. If he wanted a show, then you’d give him one he’d remember until his last moments on earth.

Mihawk’s grip on your throat tightened for a second and you thought for an instant that this was it, that the underworld awaited you. But before darkness could cloud your eyes he loosened it, his gaze glinting with a mixture of curiosity and dark amusement. You could feel the rapid beat of your heart echoing in your ears as you gasped for breath, your whole body shaking beneath his. The room seemed to pulse with the intensity of the moment, every sense heightened.

“You’re quite the performer,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that only served to enhance the heat building between your legs. “But I’m not easily swayed by theatrics. Show me something real.”

You swallowed hard, your throat still aching from his grip, but you forced a smile. “Real, you say?” You let your hands glide away from his wrist, trailed your curves, and slipped the straps of your dress off from your shoulders, revealing more skin and black lace. “I can do real.”

Mihawk’s eyes darkened with interest, his gaze tracing the path of your hands as they moved. He released his grip on your throat, his fingers now trailing down to your collarbone, leaving a searing embers in their wake. The intensity in his stare was almost overwhelming, and you knew you had to find a way to keep control of the situation, even if it felt like you were barely holding on.

You grasped his hand, guiding it along your bare skin, to the plushness of your breast. “What is it you truly desire, Mihawk? Power? Control? Or perhaps something more... visceral?” You practically moaned out the words. 

His hand lingered on the lace, pushing it aside, fingers tracing lazy circles. The air between you was electric, charged with unspoken promises and the underlying tension of a predator toying with its prey.  This was a delicate game. You let out a soft moan, arching your back further, pressing yourself against him, rolling your hips.

A smirk broke on his lips as he saw right through your little performance. He knew exactly what game you were playing, and it was clear he was enjoying every moment of it. His hand moved with deliberate slowness, tracing the curve of your breast, his touch a maddening mix of gentle and firm. The control you sought seemed to slip further from your grasp with each passing second.

“And what do you propose, little marine?”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. “I propose we make this interesting. A game, if you will. You test my… resolve, and I test yours. We both get what we want.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “A game, you say? And what are the stakes?”

You bit your lip, your hand guiding his lower, your fingers ushering his along the dripping lace of your underwear. “If I can prove my worth to you, you agree to come to the negotiation table. If I fail...” You paused, letting the weight of the words hang between you. “If I fail, you can do with me as you please.”

He pushed aside the ruined fabric, the pads of his fingers meeting your slick before dipping inside. “You’re playing a dangerous game, little marine.” His smirk widened as a moan escaped you. “What makes you think I can’t just take what I want?”

The words hung in the air, thick with implication. You felt the intensity of his gaze boring into you, the heat from his touch searing into your skin. As though to emphasize his point, his thumb found your clit, tracing slow, deliberate circles, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through your body, mewls you tried to muffle out of your lips.

You swallowed hard, your breath coming in ragged gasps. “You could,” you admitted, your hand wrapping around his wrist as he moved his fingers in a come-hither motion, pressing all those delightfully right spots. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, fingers trembling, nails digging into him as a wave of ecstasy washed over you. You struggled to come back, half-lidded eyes meeting his. “But I’m sure I can make it much, much more entertaining for you if you decide to play along.”

His eyes flickered with a mixture of amusement and dark curiosity. “You certainly know how to make an offer enticing.” He leaned in close, his breath touching your lips. “But from where I’m standing you’re already breaking.”

He was right, you were so close to falling apart under him. "Am I not to your pleasing?" You asked, voice trembling against his. You reached up and discarded his hat, your fingers seeking to tangle in his hair. “Am I not entertaining enough for you, marine hunter?”

He chuckled, his lips brushing over yours. His fingers continued their tantalizing exploration, pushing you closer to the edge with each deliberate movement. He was testing you, pushing your limits to see how far you could go. And yet, despite the overwhelming intensity, you were determined to hold your ground.

“You are quite pleasing,” he admitted, his voice was thick with lust and its intensity almost sent you over. “But I wonder, how much more can you take before you beg for mercy?”

You bit your lip, a mixture of defiance and desire burning in your eyes. “I don’t beg, Mihawk. That’s what makes it interesting.”

His smirk widened, his fingers pressing deeper, eliciting another soft moan from you. “Bold words, little marine. Very bold indeed. Let’s see if that’s true.”

His lips met yours, slow and teasing, a dance of dominance and submission, a battle for control, a negotiation of its own. He moved against you with a practiced precision, each movement calculated to draw out your reactions. You could feel the intensity of his desire, the raw power behind each touch.

You were close. So fucking close. 

You swore under your breath as he suddenly stopped.

“I wonder what will make you break the fastest.” Satisfaction was evident in his voice as he felt you flutter around his fingers. “Denial or pleasure?”

Your breath hitched at Mihawk's words, the sensation of his fingers lingering just out of reach driving you to the edge of your sanity. This was a dangerous game, one where you had to balance the razor's edge between control and surrender. If… if you managed to hold out long enough… even he couldn’t resist lust forever. 

You couldn't let him see just how close you were to breaking.

Drawing on every ounce of willpower, you forced a sly smile. Your hands left his hair and traced down his chest. "Why not try both and find out?" 

He interrupted their path as you reached his belt. Deftly he brought them over your head, his weight pinning you entirely in place as he started moving his fingers again. His eyes gleamed as he looked down at you, relishing the arch of your body against his, relishing your struggle. 

He leaned close, his breath hot against your ear. "Now, now,” he tutted at you. “You can’t just skip ahead. Let's see how long you can endure."

Before you could respond, his lips descended on yours again, demanding and possessive. The kiss was bruising, filled with the same intensity that characterized every touch and word between you. His fingers made you see stars, their exploration agonizingly slow, teasing you mercilessly, never quite giving you what you needed.

You moaned into his mouth, bucked against his hand, your every instinct overtaken by a desperate need for release. The tension between you was unbearable, every nerve ending screaming for more. 

He stopped and started again and again and again, until you struggled with your breath and your whole body quivered and sang to each of his demands.

Mihawk's lips left yours, trailing down your jawline to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that almost made you lose your mind. "You're holding up better than I expected," he murmured against your skin, biting softly on your exposed nipple before soothing it with his tongue.

You barely managed a breathless laugh, closer to sobs than anything. "I told you, Mihawk. I don't break easily."

He chuckled, a sound that was both dark and amused. "We'll see about that."

His fingers moved with a different purpose now, driving you closer and closer to the edge, fast and hard. You could feel the tension coiling within you, the impending release just out of reach. And still, he held you there, teetering on the brink, refusing to let you fall.

It was maddening, the way he controlled you so effortlessly, drawing out every ounce of pleasure and frustration until you thought you might lose your mind. And yet, you couldn't help but crave more and he couldn’t help but to push you further, to see just how far you could go before you finally shattered.

"Please," you whispered, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

You felt his smile against your skin. “There we go,” he drawled out the words. “The little marine knows how to beg after all.”

With a sudden, devastating precision, he drove you over the edge, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm to bring you to the peak of ecstasy. You cried out, your body convulsing with the force of your release, your muscles straining against his hold.

As you came back to reality, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you gasping at the sudden loss. He brought his hand to your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. “Taste your resolve, little marine.”

You opened your mouth, taking his fingers in, your tongue swirling around them, tasting the remnants of your desire. The act was a surrender and he watched you with contentment, his gaze victorious.

“Good girl,” his voice was a satisfied purr, one that made your mind feel fuzzy and your body hot. “Now let’s see how well you break under pleasure.” 

His hands moved to your hips, his grip firm as he repositioned you with ease, brought you closer to the edge of the table. You felt some of your slick cooled by time, seep into the fabric of your dress, against your lower back as he pulled you over the puddle of arousal that had been slowly gathering on the wooden top.

His movements were deliberate, calculated, his eyes never leaving yours as he took off his belt, the leather sliding through the loops with a whispering sound. He eyed it for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his lips before his attention came back to you. 

“Will you be a good?” His tone was threatening. “Or do I have to restrain you again?”

You swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat. The challenge was unmistakable.  “I can be good,” you whispered, your voice hoarse but it sounded unconvincing, even to your ears. The thought of being powerless under his hold once again was somehow unbearable.

Mihawk’s smile widened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I don’t think you can, little marine.”

With a swift motion, he looped the belt around your wrists, pulling it tight enough to restrain but not to hurt. The leather bit into your skin, the sensation unnerving.

”You’re just waiting for a chance to turn the tables, aren’t you?”

You quirked your head to the side, a hint of defiance shining through. “Can you blame me?” He let go of your hands and you made no effort to keep them up, letting them drop to your stomach. “It’s not fair if you hold ALL the cards.”

“Fairness is a luxury, little marine.” His hands moved to your thighs, pushing them apart with a firm, insistent pressure. “A luxury one can rarely indulge in when playing to win.”

He paused for a moment, his gaze raking over your form, something you couldn’t decipher spreading on his features, an intensity you’d only ever seen on wild animals.

“I must admit, you’re quite the sight.” His fingers traced the edge of your underwear. With a swift motion, he tore the delicate fabric away, leaving you completely exposed. “But I think you’ll be much more entertaining once broken.”

Your breath caught in your throat in a small hiccup, the threat in his words not escaping you. Your eyes stood at a standstill as he deliberately slowly undid his pants.

His cock met your heat, gathering your slick and the soft pressure on your oversensitive clit made you want to twist and buck beneath him. He brought one of your already trembling legs over his shoulder, his hand roaming up and down in a soothing touch. 

You felt his tip at your entrance, the slow delightful stretch as he entered you in a tortuously unhurried advance. Your entire body reacted to the sensation, you arched beneath him, your eyes fluttering close, your wrists strained against your bindings desperate to hold unto something, anything to ground you. The pleasure was intense, almost overwhelming and as he met your cervix you couldn’t help the sharp cry that escaped your lips, nor the tears gathering in your eyes.

“You’re so tight, little marine,” Mihawk chuckled, taking in every detail of the moment and searing it in his mind. “So responsive. I can feel you clenching around me, trying to hold on.” 

His movements were controlled, each thrust calculated to draw out your reactions, to push you closer to the edge. You wouldn’t beg. You wouldn’t cry for mercy. You were so close. Each drag of his cock against your fluttering walls was heavenly. The room seemed to fade away, the only thing that mattered was the sensation of him inside you. 

You could feel the dam within you beginning to crack and then his hand found your clit once more and your breath stopped. It was too much. You came around him with a desperate gasp.

He didn’t stop, his thrusts still perfectly controlled. You knew the overstimulation was coming but it didn’t prepare you for the moment it washed over you. Your eyes shot open and makeup blurred tears stained your cheeks. You fought as though it was a matter of life or death. It was too much. Too fucking much. But his hands held you firmly in place, unable to escape his relentless assault.

And then a second orgasm rippled through your veins, blinding and even more intense than the first. 

But he still didn’t stop. Your cries stuck at the back of your throat, sobs wreaking your body. 

“Please,” you couldn’t help but beg again and again, your limbs so taut beneath him it was painful.

As his laugh hit your ears, you realized he didn’t care. Realized he was having fun. Your body twisted violently beneath him, too harsh for him to control and he let out an annoyed click of his tongue before flipping you over, the edge of the table digging hard into your hips as he entered you again. 

“Mercy,” you pleaded, wrists straining so intensely against your bindings that you knew you’d be nursing those red marks for days.

“Already?” His hand kneaded your ass roughly, pushing you even more painfully against the wooden top. “How disappointing, little marine.” His touch snaked up along your spine and tangled forcefully in your hair, keeping you pinned down and struggling against his hold. “I’m just getting started.”  He punctuated his statement with an especially sharp movement of his hips.

Your legs kicked in the air as another orgasm rippled through you, and you felt your arousal drip down your thigh and your drool seep out of your redded lips.

The world was careening around you and you couldn’t breathe and waves of pleasure washed over you so fast that your mind couldn’t keep up anymore. You eventually went slack beneath him, your entire body surrendering, and only then did his rhythm start to falter. 

He turned you back around, and you didn’t struggle, fully pliant for him. His fingers found your lips, played with the spit on your tongue, kept your mouth open as he reached closer to his own release. 

“Mercy,” you begged one last time, your words muffled, your lips wrapping against his fingers.

And he smiled, a predatory, victorious smile and you couldn’t help but think he looked ethereal in this moment. His hips stuttered one once more, his seed hot inside you and you clenched around him, white blurring your vision for the umpteenth time. 

He slowly pulled out, his gaze dropping to your entrance, watching his cum dribble out with a lust-blown stare. Your whole body still shook in the aftermath, your breath scattered and you spasmed at the feeling, a last vestige of submission as you whimpered. 

His fingers left your mouth and almost tenderly wiped your tear-stained cheek, brushing strands of hair that had been plastered on your sweat-covered skin behind your ear. His gaze stayed on you, considering.

“You’ve been more interesting than I expected,” He admitted as he pulled back up his pants.  “Very well, I’ll consider your offer on one condition.” He gently unraveled his belt, his hand lingering on your wrists and you gave a sharp hiss of pain he seemed to drink in with delight. 

“And that is?” you asked, your voice sounding far away, not your own.

He lazily passed the leather back in the belt loops, put back on his hat, making you wait.

“You’re the one who handles the negotiations. Just you and I. No one else.”

A slow smile of victory made its way to your lips.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

Masterlist

Might consider making a part 2, but don't hold me to that.

[radio-fmm]

One piece men react to your new haircut

ft. Law, Zoro and Sanji

fluff + gn reader with long hair

Masterlist

LAW

“Y/n-ya” Laws muffled voice ringed in your ears from outside your dorm, a tad softer tone coloring his words than he would usually use, a tone that always accompanied your name after it

He was met with silence

You had skipped breakfast, first red flag, and when you didn’t showed up for the monthly meeting at his office he knew something was up, he just didn’t know exactly what could be

“Go away” the doctors eyebrows curled in confusion, you sounded upset 

“Can you open the door please?”

“No”

Laws mind ran wild trying to think of a reason for your behavior changing one day to another, hiding away in your dorm

“Shambles”

The tall man appears in front of your door as he finds you underneath your bedsheets curled in a ball. Obviously what his mind zeroed in to immediately was that you may be feeling unwell, but as the tiniest softest sob left your mouth he realized it was a different kind of unwell he had not anticipated 

Feeling extremely unprepared, he sits at the end of your bed, immediately making you squirm and hide further in your bed

“Don’t look at me, I'm horrendous!” The captain cannot stop the snickers that scapes his mouth at your statement 

“Don’t be ridiculous” In a swift move Law removes the sheets, revealing your face hiding behind your hands

He noticed right away what you were referring to as apparently ‘horrendous’. Your locks were cut short too way above your shoulders, at the height of the frame of your face. He admires the new style, a smile tugging at his lips before he removes your hands from your regretful face, your eyes scan his expression in total terror

“I thought I could do it myself” a whisper could be heard louder than the words leaving you as you melt at Laws sweet touch “I look so bad”

Law runs his finger through your soft short strands before stroking your cheek “You look just fine y/n-ya… it quite suits you” 

Your face turns from his grasp but your Captain is quick to catch you “You’re gorgeous any day, any time, with long or short hair” Doe eyes met his as if you were relieved at his praise

“Promise?”

“Promise”

Your short hair was quick to become Laws favorite look on you

ZORO

“Don’t move” Zoro's tongue peeks at the side of his lips as he finds the perfect angle to cut your soft long strands of hair

“If you cut me in half…”

“Quit complaining I haven’t even started” He watches as your hands show him what length to cut for the third time, the swordsman takes a deep breath. A swift move from his strong arms followed by the sound of a cut near your ears is the last thing that fills your senses before a weight is lifted from your shoulders. Your eyes peek at the floor, a sea of your now old hair beneath you

“Perfect” you hear Zoro mutter, you run your hand through your hair, a grimace appearing on your face

"It's not straight” you sigh, defeated 

“What are you talking about?” Zoro appears in your field of vision and scans the way your hair sits at the sides of your frame, before you can even complain about it, another cut is heard disrupting the peace of The Sunny. 

Instantly you run to the bathroom mirror, it’s not perfect per se´, but he got the exact length you wanted to. You were a short hair kind of a person your whole life, but when you had started to sail through the sea, embarking alongside the future king of the pirates, it was hard to keep up a neat cut like the one you liked, so you resorted to a more easy way out. Another sigh escapes you, a different one this time, this one is a content one. You smile as you pose before the mirror, which reflects another figure outside the bathroom watching you intently

“Thank you Zoro” you offer him the softest and most thankful smile through your reflection, the swordsman shrugs, trying not to make a big deal out of it, truth was he was more than glad to help you, in anything you may need, it made him feel important. His eyes take on the new view of your appearance once more, his heart thrumbing in his ears and a blush sitting on his cheeks, he didn't know how you managed to look even more breathtaking 

“No problem” 

You wink at him at you may have broke him, the swordsman stays frozen in place as you run to show Nami and Robin your new look 

SANJI

The cook stays in a trance as he watches you braid your long beautiful locks in a fish braid before bed, as you tie it you watch your reflection for a while, a hesitant look appearing making your nose scrunch, the antic making his heart jump in his chest. Sanji bites his tongue, wanting to comment on this action, curious as to what could possibly be bothering you, because last time he checked, your reflection was nothing to frown about. 

"What's wrong, my love?" He asks ever so gently, you stay silent before walking to your shared bed, sighing as you lay beside him

“I want to cut my hair, it’s really hard work keeping it off my face, and it takes ages to wash and style” another frown sits on your lips as your eyes advert from his face

The reality was that you were planning on cutting your hair for a while now, but the thought of Sanji disliking your new look haunted you, but you were not gonna admit that to him

One of his delicate hands reach for your braid, then travel upwards to cup your face, he smiles in pure adoration pulling at your heart strings in the most intimate melody

“I know whatever you do to your hair is gonna look smashing” a dark red creeps from your neck and warms up your face at the blonde’s touch

After Sanji’s sweet reassurance, you missed no time and that morning reached for the scissors in your drawer and just went for it. As half your braid fell to the floor you felt the biggest weight being lift from your shoulders, your locks dancing free with the ocean’s breeze

The cook walked outside the kitchen in the middle of his breakfast prep for a smoke, but his cigarette hit the floor the instant he spotted you leaning on the railing of The Sunny, he was left stunted, heart eyes following your beautiful silhouette as he rushed your way

“Stunning” his hands immediately landing on your strands, brushing them slowly and lovingly

“You were right” you smiled at him content written all over your face

“Of course I was darling, I know an angel when I see one”

Luffy’s whines of annoyance could be heard all over the ship when he found his plate empty in the kitchen and Sanji nowhere to be found, he just had to stay to admire you all morning, it was a must 

[bloodywankers]

Trigger Warning! Implied Non-con! Forced Relationship! Yandere Husband!

Unedited | 1.26k Words

Andre was always rational, never unnecessarily cruel or emotional. That was the worst part about him, he was cold, left you feeling touch starved and alone even in his embrace. He was strict, he wouldn’t tolerate deviation from his routine or attempts to ruin the perfect image he had built for you but he wasn’t cruel. At the end of the day it felt like you only had yourself to blame for your misfortune. He wouldn’t criticise you for no reason but that meant that the instances where he did, he was probably right. He wouldn’t scream or yell but in turn left you feeling like a disobedient child.

His affection left much to be desired but you blame yourself for it rather than him, because Andre was perfect. He always remembered anniversaries and birthdays, never letting you want for anything but you had always felt so alone. There was an emptiness that he couldn’t fill no matter what he did because Andre was an actor.

Nothing about Andre was genuine because a character with no flaws is no character at all. He seemed above your childish tantrums and far too sophisticated to enjoy simpler things, lived in a world that was perfectly tailor made for him. But you weren’t Andre, you weren’t logical, or perfect, your acting was subpar at best and you didn’t fit into his world. You were emotional and living in his cold world devoid of any warmth was not something you could tolerate so despite every well planned argument he placed in front of you, you stood your ground.

“I want a divorce.” You tried your best to keep a firm tone, you were sure he would take advantage of any hesitation that you showed.

“Darling, as I’ve said already, I—.” He spoke softly, as always, interrupting you with his finely built arguments, ones that you were sure would work in any other situation. Arguments that you could reason with if you had not been as fed up as you were, filled with unadulterated hatred for the man you were supposed to love. This time you were set on getting what you wanted, you were sick of feeling like this.

“I don’t care for whatever bullshit reason you have this time, I feel miserable every day I spend with you!” You probably could have gone through with this in a more elegant manner but you were at your limit. Andre had always been rational but you couldn’t understand him this time. You were sure he wouldn’t have trouble remarrying someone better, it’s not like you lived in the Middle Ages where divorce meant your life was over. It probably wouldn’t affect his image much. So why was he so hell-bent on keeping you stuck in a relationship where both of you would be miserable?

You expected another well balanced counter argument, maybe a comment about how foul your behaviour was, how unbecoming it was. But instead he stood there, a look you had never seen before and a scowl that seemed so out of place compared to his usual poker face. You instinctively sunk into yourself, trying to avoid what you thought was his attempt at reaching for you, what for you? You didn’t want to find out. But instead he walked past you, stormed out despite still maintaining his obnoxiously elegant posture.

You thought it would blow over, that he would come back and pretend nothing happened, he didn’t seem like the type to acknowledge such arguments. But he didn’t return at his usual time, and instead you found all the exits to your house locked and your set of keys missing.

When your husband did return, he didn’t go to your shared bedroom as usual, instead went straight for his office, you just barely caught him. Slamming the door to his study shut before you said anything else.

“What the hell is your problem?! Where are my keys?! If you’re going to act like this at least let me leave!”

”You will do no such thing.” That’s it. No reason, no explanation as to why he decided on this, just a singular order. You had started to back up, this was unlike Andre. The atmosphere in the room had changed.

“And why is that? Who do you think you are to decide for me?!”

Andre himself didn’t understand. The logical thing, the right thing to do would be to let you go quietly, to not put up a fuss and part ways. He didn’t have any love in him when he chose you as his marriage partner (before you had ever officially met him), you were just the right choice, at the right place, at the right time and with the right background. It wasn’t him who was drawn to you out of all other potential candidates, you were just the best choice. He has a good memory, that’s why he remembered your birthday, and your wedding anniversary. It would look bad if he didn’t buy you the best present money could buy.

Sharing a bed was necessary for any married couple, not because he searched for your warmth, desperately clinging to it every night, whether intentionally or not.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his nose bridge, brows furrowed as he came to the realisation. Love? He had come to love you? Has he always felt this way? For someone who boasted a memory as excellent as his, he couldn’t remember when it started. But there was no denying what this was, it was love, an obsessive love that ate at his insides every moment he kept trying to contain it.

If he told you that, you would understand, wouldn’t you? You’d forgive his past sorry attempts at being a good husband and give him a chance to prove himself, wouldn’t you? After all, you’ve always been understanding, despite your recent outbursts, you would try to understand him.

“Darling, let’s try to calm down.” That’s not what he wanted to say, he wanted to say he loved you, to scream it until his voice gave out but it wouldn’t come out, this in turn only irked you more. You looked ready to leave, too annoyed to even continue talking to him. He couldn’t have that, he’d beg if you wanted so please don’t leave.

Well, if he couldn’t tell you, he’d show you. After all, actions speak louder than words. So he grabbed your wrist before you could drift further from him and dragged you to your shared bedroom, ignoring all cries and protests from you. He made sure to lock the door behind him, you looked like you were ready to bolt out the door the moment he let go of you.

“You-! What are you doing, unlock the door now!” However, your protests seem to fall on deaf ears once more.

“You asked why I wouldn’t let you go? I’ll show you why.”

Andre had never been unreasonable or cruel but that night you realised he was as flawed as anyone else, as dirty as any other and as cruel as he could want to be. You realise how much you miss his distant and unfamiliar self, before you got to know him in so many different ways.

How unfamiliar he looked to you as he kissed you in places he didn’t dare to touch before, as his smile resembled that of a madman and his eyes reflected pure euphoria.

Your husband had always been unreasonable and cruel, you just never knew.

Masterlist

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.8

WandaNatxReader

Word Count: 3k

Ch notes: Angst, Nightmares, Fighting

Summary: The family copes with the situation revolving Dragos

An: Sorry for posting so late.... hope you like it. Also posting from my phone, so sorry formatting issues.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“ Enough time has passed Wanda. We have to act now before we lose everything,” you speak to the woman in her office.

“I'm not ready for war Y/n,” She tries to dismiss you.

“Detka, I think she’s right. If we wait any longer it could, everything your father built would be over,” Natasha backs you up.

Wanda puts her head down on the desk, "I don't think I can do this.”

“It’s just like we planned, Wanda. Nat and I have everything on standby to close the ports, we’re just waiting on your word,” you speak softly to her.

“Fine, just do it,” she waves her hand, but doesn’t move her face from it’s place on the desk.

She had been like this for nearly two weeks. The shooting of her father seemed to hit her the hardest. She felt like she wasted too much time away from him and now he was gone.

The only way you were functioning was hope that he would wake up. He wasn’t gone, he was just in a coma. People recover from being in comas, they wake up. You just keep telling yourself that Dragos would be waking up soon.

“Wanda, maybe you should go home, I can handle this,” your eyes are full of worry, but your voice is firm.

“I’m capable of running this business Y/n,” she snaps back at you.

“ I know you are, that’s why they put you in charge. However, this is not a one man job Wanda. Dragos had days where he needed someone to take charge. I’m one of those people. Whether he’s sitting in that seat or you’re sitting in that seat, I’m going to continue to be that person. Now go home.”

She looks at you with something you’ve never seen before. It makes your brow furrow. The intensity of her stare isn’t malicious, but it’s unfamiliar to you.

“I’ll take you baby,” Nat offers, taking Wanda’s attention away from you.

Wanda takes one more look at you before agreeing to go with her wife.

“Stop by after work, I don’t care how late it is,” her demand makes you want to gulp, but you hold it and nod.

She’s out of the door first. You share a look with Natasha as you take s seat at the desk.

“I’ll be back, I can have everything ready for tonight,” the spy says.

“Thank you, Natasha.”

She leaves and you get to work immediately. You call in your dealers and suppliers to inform them of potential uptick in all products your pushing to prepare them adequately. You call your supposed allies, you’re vague but they know it’s a threat. More than threat, but a test of loyalty. Some of them dismiss you as you aren’t Dragos, but you’re sure by morning they’ll come around or go out of business.

There had been too much silence on your side of the business. Fisk was parading around the city saying that he killed Dragos. The lack of movement from your side of things only made it seem true.

Wanda had been placed temporarily in charge of the business while Dragos was out of commission. However, she wasn't emotionally prepared for this yet. None of you were in actuality, you all needed more time.

“ Where’s Wanda?” Pietro strolls into the office.

Your eyes are locked on the screen, “ Sent her home.”

“You’re running things today?”

You nod, “We’re going through with the plan to shut down the pier tonight. I put out some feelers, stayed pretty vague. I know they'll get on board when there's no other option.”

“You sound like him,” Pietro chuckles.

“I hope so, I got brushed off by one too many people over the phone. We need to let them know we aren’t weak. We will not be usurped, we are this city and it’s time to remind them.”

Pietro agrees, “My eyes and ears on the street have been telling me about Kingpin He’s telling others he fixed the Maximoff issue. We need to get a handle on this.”

“They will be dealt with and I’ll save Fisk for last. Next time I wont miss when I shoot,” your jaw clenches.

“How are you holding up?” He asks, taking in your appearance.

The bags under your eyes spoke for themselves. You hadn’t been sleeping well, getting 3 hours seems like a blessing some days.

“Not well, but I’ll be alright.”

“You haven’t been sleeping.”

You sigh, “How can I rest well, knowing that the man who has taken someone important from me walks around the streets celebrating it? It’s like he’s taunting me.”

Pietro’s hand lands on your shoulder, “We’re going to get him Y/n, I swear.”

Natasha strolls back into the room, “I’ve got everything set we're just waiting on nightfall.”

“Good, I’m almost done here. I’ve got some paperwork to get through and if it’s not too late, maybe we can carpool?”

Natasha smiles, “I’ll wait for you, it’s no problem.”

“I guess we’ll leave you to it Don Y/n,” Pietro jokes as he pats your shoulder before exiting the office, Natasha’s following behind him.

The paperwork takes longer than expected. You’re exhausted by the end of it, your eyes are strained as you finish the last of it up.

When Natasha comes to check on you , she can tell you’ve dissociated from the work you’re doing. It looks mindless yet stressful at the same time. You don’t even notice she's standing there for another 10 minutes.

“Ok you’re done, lisichka. Time to go home,” Natasha’s voice startles you.

You give her little protest, moving out of the seat. Your bones crack and you let out a yawn as you grab your belongings.

“Wanda’s going to need help tomorrow. The lines should be busy. We can open them up so Kate and I can help filter orders,” you mumble as you leave the office.

“No more work talk, we’re out of the office,” Natasha reminds you.

You let out a tired laugh, “Now you’re sounding like a Maximoff."

“I am married to one,” she says as the two of you get in her car.

“I don't know who's luckier you or her.”

Natasha quirks an eyebrow as she begins to dive, “I’m pretty sure it's me.”

“You’re good for her too; don't discredit yourself. Wanda has always been a caregiver of sorts. She wants to take care of everyone. It's nice to see she has someone who can take care of her,” your eyes begin to close as you speak.

“You’ve taken care of her before. When she was fighting with Pietro, the whole situation with Dragos; you kept her grounded,” Natasha points out.

You shrug lightly, “I couldn't when I was younger.”

Natasha glances at your nearly sleeping figure, “You were just a child, lisichka.”

“I was fragile, she needed someone strong,” you feel sleep overtaking you.

Natasha goes to respond, but hears you snoring softly, “I don't think you could've ever been fragile.”

The spy doesn't wake you when you arrive at the condo. Instead she carefully removes you from the car and carries you up to her door. She rings the bell unable to get her keys while holding you.

When Wanda opens the door her eyes soften at the sight of you asleep in her wife’s arm.

“I didn't want to wake her. I overheard her telling Pietro she hasn't been sleeping,” Nat explains to her wife.

“Just lay her in our bed,” Wanda says, and Natasha complies.

Wanda heads to the kitchen, unable to sleep. She stays to make herself some tea.

“She cares about you a lot,” Natasha says meeting her wife in the kitchen.

Wanda just hums a response.

“You care about her a lot too,” Natasha looks to meet her wife’s gaze.

“Astute observation, sweetheart,” Wanda responds dryly.

Natasha steps into Wanda’s personal space, “You know what I’m insinuating then?”

Wanda finally looks at her wife, “No I don’t.”

“I think you're in love with her,” Natasha is gentle when she speaks.

Wanda laughs, “What are you talking about? Y/n is a part of my family. I’ve cared for her for years; healed her wounds, held her when she cried, taught her how to defend herself. Natasha, she was barley turning 17 when I met her.”

“I see the way you look at her Wanda. It’s the same way you look at me,” her tone doesn’t convey anger or sorrow.

Wanda’s laughter has yet to die down, “She’s my little brother’s best friend.”

“Then tell me why she can ground you the same way I can? Her touch calms you, her look quiets you, and her figure causes your eyes to drift. Just be honest with me Wanda.”

“Look, I love Y/n. I would do anything to keep her safe, but there’s nothing between us romantically,” Wanda gets serious for the first time in the conversation.

Natasha rolls her eyes, “You lost your mind about something from 5 years ago involving her, you were in tears when you couldn't attend her graduation, you talked about her more than your brother, mother, and father.”

Wanda’s eyes shift for a second, it’s the only sign Natasha needs. Her hand reach for her wife’s. Her thumbs pad the back of Wanda’s hand.

“Baby-”

“Natasha I can’t. I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she tries to escape but Natasha won’t let her.

“Talk to me, detka.”

For a moment it seems like Wanda is going to talk it out with her wife. However a commotion in their bedroom puts brakes to the conversation.

They both rush in that direction. In the bedroom they find you fighting in your sleep. You’re thrashing, punching, and screaming.

Wanda’s eyes go wide at the sight. The distress on your face send her into fight or flight. She wants to help, but she’s unaware of what to do.

Natasha on the other hand has had her fair share of life like nightmares. She knows how delicate of a situation that they can be.

“Easy lisichka, it’s not real,” Natasha’s voice is firm as she speaks, slowly inching towards you.

Natasha’s hand slowly reaches for your forearm. The action cause you to jerk, but Natasha is unflinching. Her hands trailing up and down your arm trying to calm you.

“Baby you’re safe here,” Natasha slips her fingers between yours.

It’s sudden the way you jolt forward into consciousness. Natasha’s arms wrap around you securely as your chest heaves up and down.

Wanda joins your side, hand running through your hair, “It’s ok, you’re ok. You’re safe little krolik.”

You sniffle a couple of times. Before realizing the position you're in. You sit in a bed that you can only assume belongs to the two women, that are slowing your erratic heart rate.

“I uh- I fell asleep in the car,” you say pushing the women away from you slightly.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead and then rub at your eyes roughly. The feeling of embarrassment starts to creep in on you.

“ You did, exhausted from all that work and no sleep,” Natasha says.

You nod lightly, “As you can see I have a hard time with sleeping.”

“It’s like that every night?” Wanda’s voice was laced with concern.

You try to laugh it off, “I get by with the little sleep I get before the nightmares.”

“Y/n, we’re being serious,” Wanda’s use of your actual name startles you a bit.

You take a deep breath, “Nearly every night since the shooting. But I’m a big girl guys, I’ve got it under control.”

“Wanda’s been having trouble sleeping too. If I leave just for a second, she starts panicking pretty bad,” Natasha mentions, causing her wife to glare at her.

Wanda crosses her arms over her chest defensively and that’s how you know Natasha is telling the truth.

“I’ve been trying to run a company and a business. There’s no time for a comfortable rest.”

It was your turn to give a stern look, “You won’t be able to lead well if all your senses are weakened from lack of sleep.”

“And how much sleep did you get last night before so graciously kicking me out of the office today?” She counters and your face heats up.

“It's not like I don't want to sleep. I’ve tried a bunch of shit, but nothing is enough for the nightmares. It’s triggering, you know because not only are the nightmares themselves intense, but having them in the first place reminds me the ones I used to have about my family.”

Though you've arguably been vulnerable with both of these women before, it feels harder this time. It feels like they are seeing a piece of you that is supposed to be neatly tucked away. Yet you’re too tired to hide it and you trust them not to use it against you.

“If you’re comfortable with it, I know something that might help,” Natasha offers.

“I’m willing to try anything,” you give her your full attention.

“Stay here with us tonight,” her eyes pierce through yours.

“Here as in…”

“The bed, yes,” Natasha elaborates.

Almost reflexively you look to Wanda to find her staring at her wife. The look isn’t entirely inviting and you take note of that.

You look directly towards Wanda as you speak, “I don't want to impose or be anymore of an inconvenience than I already have. I can actually just go home and try again.”

You attempt to get out of bed, but Wanda places a hand on your chest, keeping you down, “Y/n, you will never be an inconvenience to me. I don't want to keep you here if you’re uncomfortable, but if Nat thinks this could help you then I think it’s worth a shot.”

Your skin is hot under her hand, and you hope she can’t feel the way your heart is beating. It truly shouldn’t feel like such a big deal, you’ve laid with Wanda before . You knew what it was like to have her arms tightly secured around you while she played with your hair until your nerves died. Something about it felt more innocent then.

Now that you were both adults and Wanda was married, it almost seemed like crossing a line.

“What if this works?” You say looking between the couple. They share a quick look at each other before fixing their eyes on you.

“ We’ll cross that bridge when we get there lisichka. We should all get some rest, tomorrow will be very hectic for everyone,” Natasha again reassures you.

“ Do you want something more comfortable to sleep in?” Wanda says, as she pinches the fabric of your work shirt.

You nod lightly and not even a second later Natasha is shoving some pajamas in your hand. She points you to the direction on the restroom and you go leaving the two redheads alone for a moment.

“Natalia,” Wanda’s voice is low and cold as she speaks to her wife.

Natasha shrugs, “What was I supposed to do, Wanda? Did you see the poor girl?”

“You did this to prove a point,” Wanda keeps her voice down with much effort.

“I think you’re doing that all on your own. This is simply helping a friend out. It’s not like you haven’t shared bed with her before,” Natasha shoots back.

“T-this is different,” she stumbles over her words.

“Why?” Natasha raises an eyebrow at her wife.

“Can we drop this please?” Wanda looks away.

Her wife reaches to caress her face, “Detka, we can drop it for now but sooner or later we’re going to have to talk about your feelings.”

Wanda draws in a large breath . She focuses on the way Natasha’s thumb cascades across her cheek.

She looks at her wife, “I love you. More than anything Natalia. I would never put you through anything that I think would hurt us. This to me is the most important everything .”

“I’m not doubting that baby. I’m not asking you this question to make you pick between the two, I just want some clarity,” Natasha kisses Wanda briefly after speaking.

Before Wanda can speak again you’re back in the room. You stand awkwardly as the couple behind you to the bed.

“So, how does this work? Do you want me on the edge or in the middle or..?”

“We’re following your lead little krolik."

Alarms go off in your brain but the aren't loud enough in your sleep deprived state. You take your place at the edge of the bed, closest to Wanda.

You try your best to keep your arms stiffly to yourself. There isn't any chance that you'd willingly embarrass yourself further.

It would be so easy to put your arm around her waist. The more you think the less sleep you get.

Wanda can sense the tense state of your body. Natasha words echo in her mind and it causes her to hesitate. Usually she would’ve already taken initiative to make sure you were comfortable. However here she was, scared that the feeling of your arms around her would send her into an overload.

“Can I- ” your sentence is aided by the action of your hand coming to rest respectfully on her stomach.

Wanda doesn’t speak but her hand lands gently over yours, keeping it in place. You relax at the action and unintentionally pull the woman closer to you. Her back is flush against your front as soft snores fall from your lips. You fall asleep instantly.

She doesn't want to admit it, but being this close to you makes her heart thunder in her chest. She feels warm in your hold. It’s a new feeling.

Being held by you is different than holding you herself. Her free hand reaches out for her wife. Natasha scoots closer, to be face to face with Wanda. Her hand interlaces itself with Wanda’s.

Natasha kisses the back of Wanda’s hand, “I love you.”

“Love you more,” Wanda whispers as her eyes flutter shut.

The three women lay together. For once their minds are quiet as they sleep. It’s peaceful, something that they can revel in before the storm of the morning disrupts their peace.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok

[archangeldyke-all]

I feel this is somewhat fitting for today,

So reader comforting sev after silco died (I feel she is the most sad out of everyone because she always saw him as some sort of father figure ngl and he sorta neglected her or never validated her)

-🫖

:( my poor baby. he's like her fucked up bestie/boss/dad

men and minors dni

they send lock or deckard to tell you if sevika's gonna be late getting home.

thieram if she's drunk and moping at the bar.

but ran only ever comes when something bad's happened.

and jinx has never accompanied any of silco's goons on one of these errands.

you assume the worst. your heart drops to your ass at the sight of ran and jinx on your doorstep, both looking haggard and scared.

jinx reaches out and grabs your arm before you can start weeping, shaking you a bit. "relax, would ya? it's not her, she's fine she's just..."

you gulp, looking to ran. they sigh. "silco's dead. she's... just sitting in his office... drinking."

jinx breaks into tears on the walk to the last drop, disappearing in an alleyway for the night. ran is solemn as they lead you to the bar.

"w-what happened?"

"dunno. jinx won't say. think she mighta killed him." ran shrugs. "think she did something bad in piltover too. shit's stirring and silco's dead and sevika's supposed to take over if this happens but--"

"take a breath." you say, patting your friend's back. "'s okay. she's gonna be fine."

this isn't true. but you know your wife wouldn't want you telling her troops any different. sevika's going to wake up sobbing for years to come, just another thing on the long list of losses that haunt her. you'll be there, though, like you are now-- to hold her and let her cry in your chest-- to remind her that she's got you. and you've got her.

she's slumped asleep on the couch when you enter silco's office. ran leaves you alone, closing the door behind themselves as the leave.

"sev." you whisper, gently nudging your wife. she snaps awake, taking a moment to drunkenly register her surroundings and your face, before she bursts into silent tears, leaning forward to bury herself against you. "fuck, honey." you coo, wrapping her up into a hug. "i'm so fuckin' sorry."

"i can't believe he fucking died. he's fucking invincible!" she cries. your heart shatters, and you kiss her scalp.

"sevika, baby. you know he isn't."

"but-- it's my fucking job to make him invincible and--"

"sev." you pull her face away from your chest, wiping up her tears and forcing her to look you in the eye. "it's your job to take over if shit goes south. that's your job. silco was not a god-- he was a man. and there is nothing you coulda done to save him, baby."

"i..." she trails off. you frown, already knowing what she was going to say, your heart breaking.

"you're gonna miss him."

she nods. "i fuckin' hate him, too." she says.

you chuckle, nodding. "i know, baby. that's the power of love."

sevika huffs and leans against you again. "how long do i have before shit gets real bad out there?"

"long enough to come home and get a proper sleep in." you say, dragging her toward the door.

sevika doesn't resist, letting you take her home. letting you care for her.

you kiss her before you leave the office, sweet and chaste but for long enough that you melt together. "thank you." you sigh.

"for what?"

"letting me take care of you before your big debut... sevika... the lioness of the lanes." you tease. sevika snorts at the nickname and rolls her eyes, and your heart flutters in your chest at the sound.

hi if u know who came up with the lioness of the lanes nickname pls lemme know so i can credit them!

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

[exhaslo]

Ok ok soooo what if you did like a fasion designer y/n and she is helping Miguel redesign his suit then like as she is measuring him or something she notices he is hard and like ✨smut✨

Oh, reader will take the measurements alright. Hopefully they can remember it *wink wink*

Warning: MINORS DNI, smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), slow sex, mirror sex

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"How did this happen?! I specifically remember both of us working on this suit, making it nearly impossible to tear!" You yelled towards a poor, nervous Peter.

"To be fair...It wasn't one of my villains."

"Oh? I'm sorry, I didn't know heroes could villain swap! Who the hell did you trade with? The Guardians of the Galaxy?" You scoffed, holding the destroyed suit in your hands.

"Easy, (Y/N), only I can bully them this much." Miguel said as he walked into your office, "You also have to remember, he's new."

"Which is why I helped him with the suit." You hissed lowly and tossed it back to the Peter, "You get to remake it. When done, I want to know who the hell you fought that tore the suit to shreds."

"..."

Peter kept quiet as he slowly made his way out of your office. The silence was more than enough for you to start assuming shit. Inhaling deeply, you walked over to your espresso machine and made both you and Miguel a cup of coffee.

"You know the work you do is above all," Miguel hummed as he took a seat on your couch. You gave him a pout,

"But it's never enough. How am I supposed to be helping you all make suits if they never hold up after a few fights?"

"They're not supposed too," Miguel reassured you, "Only special conditions like my original suit can withstand such events."

"But you won't let me touch the stuff."

"It's unstable for a reason." Miguel said with a heavy sigh and approached you from behind, "But, like everyone else. I need to upgrade my suit."

"Oh? No more blue and red?!" You gasped in shock, then grabbed his hands, "Ohhhhh, does this mean-"

"Yes, I'm letting you help me make a new suit."

You jumped with joy, nearly squealing at the thought of helping Miguel. The man liked to keep his toys to himself. That, and you would finally get a chance to measure him. There was a glint in your eyes as you observed him.

Miguel was a FINE man. Compared to all of the Spiders, he was definitely your type. When Miguel first approached you with the intension of making super hero suits, you nearly drooled at the thought. You loved a challenge.

And Miguel was your new target.

"So, when can I take the measurements?" You asked, handing Miguel a cup of coffee. Miguel raised a brow,

"I can have Lyla send them over-"

"Seriously? What the hell am I supposed to be here for then?" You huffed, giving Miguel a glare.

"Fine. Is tomorrow alright?"

"It's a date."

-------

Miguel was internally screaming as he sat in his office, staring at you on the cameras. The thoughts he had about you. The things you did to him. Miguel had a damn good reason why he never went to you for his suits. You brought out the worst of him.

Even now, the thought of you being up close to him was turning Miguel on. He was going to have to take precautionary measures in order not to lose control.

"Fuck."

--------

Today was the day. You had your morning coffee, your best outfit and your best panties attitude. No one was going to disturb you today. Your office was closed to everyone expect Miguel. This was the chance of a lifetime.

Getting your station and measurements ready, you just smiled from ear to ear. Your notepad was set aside, ready for you to take down Miguel's numbers.

"(Y/N)? Are you here?" Miguel asked as he entered. You hurried over and locked the door,

"The chance of a lifetime is mine. Get your ass up on my stage! We begin with your chest!" You cheered. Miguel resisted a chuckle as he took his shirt off,

"At least one of us is enjoying this."

You were giddy with glee as you approached Miguel. Your gaze against his chest as you started to take his measurements. You could not lie, being this close to him was driving you crazy. His cologne smelled so good too.

You hummed quietly to yourself as your fingers stroked his chest. Every now and then you grabbed your pencil and wrote in your small notepad. Moving down to his hips, you kept your focus. Miguel's body was just perfect.

"(Y/N)...Maybe we should take a break," Miguel grunted lowly.

"Not yet," You muttered.

Your hands rested against the rim of his pants, reading the numbers on your measuring tape. Adjusting the tape, you leaned down in front of Miguel and felt your face burn up. His hard erection was right in front of your face.

"Ah-" Your eyes widen and without thinking, "Should I measure this too?"

"If you want," Miguel whispered.

Both of you weren't thinking.

Your fingers gripped Miguel's boxers, slowly pulling them down. Your attention was focused on his large, thick cock. With a gulp, you grabbed your measuring tape and wrapped it around his meaty shaft. A shudder ran down your spine, before you checked the length.

"Is this...proper...length?" You whispered, your fingers wrapped around his dick, "Or should I-"

"You should," Miguel groaned lowly.

You could feel your heartbeat in your panties as you leaned towards Miguel's dick. Your tongue gently swirling around his tip, listening to his low groans and grunts. You glanced at the mirrors all around you, the sight turning you on more.

You were on your knees with Miguel's dick in your mouth. Inhaling through your nose, you leaned forward and started to suck his dick. Your hands resting against his hips as you bobbed your head back and forth. His thick shaft hitting the back of your throat.

Your panties grew damper as you felt Miguel's bitter precum start to go down your throat. His hands gripping onto your hair as he started to move your mouth faster. The sheer length of his dick was starting to burn your throat as you gripped his hips.

"Fuck, hn, (Y/N)!" Miguel hissed.

Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as you tried to touch yourself. Unable to handle the burning sensation anymore, you pulled away from Miguel, panting heavy. Quickly, you stood up and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him.

Miguel was quick to follow as he nearly tore your pants, tossing them across the room. His talons ripping your panties as he started to rub his dick against your wet cunt.

"Hah~ You owe me...new underwear and pants now," You moaned, pressing your body against his. Miguel grunted as he pressed you against one of the mirrors,

"You wanted to take my measurements," He hissed, pressing his thick cock inside you.

"Hn~ Mhm~ Y-You wanted a suit,"

"I still do," Miguel hummed, sitting his dick nice and deep inside your tight velvet walls, "Do you still remember my size?"

"O-Of course!" You huffed, glancing at yourself in the mirror, "Y-You're way too big."

"Haha, but look how well you take me,"

A shiver ran down your spine as Miguel lifted your body closer to his. He spread your legs, allowing you to see his cock deep inside your dripping pussy. The sight alone was making you hot. With a slow thrust, you moaned, nearly shaking in his grip.

"Sucking me in so well," Miguel sucked against your neck as he continued his slow, yet rough thrusts, "This was why I didn't want you to measure me."

"Ah~ Ah~ Y-You should have, mhm~ let me, oh god~" You cried out, feeling yourself about to cum.

"You're right, I should have. Look at how perfect your pussy is sucking my dick in," Miguel grunted.

Turning your face to the mirror in front, you moaned as Miguel slapped his dick back inside you. Your eyes rolled back as you cam, crying out as he kept his slow thrusts. Miguel's hands gripped your breasts, pinching your nipples as he hummed against your ear,

"Do you still remember my measurements?"

"D-Deep~"

You trembled as your pussy fluttered against his dick. Miguel chuckled in response and pressed your body against the mirror, rubbing your clit as he moved even more slowly. You cried, begging for him to go faster.

"Not until you tell me my measurements."

"P-Perfect!" You cried out, moving your own hips, "S-So deep! S-So big ah~"

"Hm, good enough,"

You cried loudly as Miguel's pace finally fasten. His dick slamming against your cervix, causing you to cream and suck his cock more. Your body shaking as your juices started to stain your floor. Miguel grunted as he pulled you closer, reaching his own high.

"Want to watch me fill this pretty little pussy?" Miguel groaned. You nodded,

"Yes!"

Lifting you back up, Miguel held your legs open. His had you staring in the mirror with him, watching your own fucked out expression contort in pleasure. You gasped as Miguel pinched your clit once more, watching you cum against his cock once more.

You cried and leaned back, but Miguel kept your face towards the mirror. You gasped and moaned as he slapped himself once more inside you, filling you with his cum. Both of you took a minute to catch your breathe before Miguel set you down,

"Are you alright? Let me clean you up," Miguel said worriedly. You grabbed his hand,

"I may have forgotten your measurements."

"Oh?" Miguel said with a low chuckle. You glanced up at him, cheeks red with embarassment,

"I think I need a reminder."

"As many times as you need."

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I'll take his measurements any day. I mean hope you enjoyed!! Haha