#corrupt chapter 28

[ariestrxsh]

shy!sub!chris x exbabysitter!reader

˚₊ · »-♡→ content warning: smut, mommy kink, age gap (Chris is 22 & reader is 28), praise, masturbation, handjob, hair pulling, innocence corruption

This fic was inspired/requested by this ask. 🤍

˚₊ · »-♡→ summary: chris runs into his old childhood babysitter, and their innocent reunion takes a turn when the two can't deny the sexual tension between them.

If the age gap or the fact that the reader used to babysit Chris bothers you, then don't read this fic !

dividers by @/bernardsbendystraws

Baby Sitter

chapters: | 1 |

"No way! Chris Sturniolo?" Your familiar voice broke Chris' attention away from his phone, his blue eyes first scanning over your red heels, your black tights, and then the grey dress suit you were wearing paired with a long, open black peacoat.

He was leaned up against the side of an old brick building with one hand in his hoodie pocket to keep it warm, waiting for the bus home. "Oh, my god! Hi!" He exclaimed, his face lighting up when he recognized you.

"You're so big!" You declared, pulling him into a hug and ruffling his messy, brown hair. The warmth of his embrace brought you some solace from the nearly freezing temperature of this brisk, winter afternoon.

Chris caught a hint of the floral perfume you'd been wearing for the past decade, and the memories of when you were both kids came flooding back to him.

"You must've been this tall the last time I saw you," you told him, holding your hand out and gesturing about three feet from the ground.

"Oh, come on. I haven't been that short since I was eight years old. You babysat me up until I was almost twelve," Chris chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes.

You glanced him over one more time. Chris had always been a cute kid, but now he was a handsome man. You scanned over his slightly muscular build, his sharp jawline, and the bit of stubble he had coming in on his face from not shaving the past few days.

"Can't believe that was ten years ago. You look good," you complimented him. "So do you," he replied, his voice textured with a hint of lust as his gaze danced over your breasts and your long legs.

"You taking the bus?" You asked him, motioning towards the bus schedule. "Yeah, but my bus won't be here for another half hour," he shrugged, looking around at the traffic building up. "Maybe longer," he faintly added.

"I could take you home," you warmly smiled at him, tilting your head to the side. "Really?" He wondered, surprised by your kind gesture.

"Of course. Still live in the same house? I think I still remember how to get there," you responded, crossing one lapel of your coat over the other, folding your arms, and raising your shoulders to your ears to fend off the cold.

"No, actually. I moved into my own apartment last year. It's probably pretty far out of the way if I'm being honest. I don't want to waste your time," Chris nervously chewed on his lip, staring down at his black converse.

"Don't be silly, Chris. I don't have anywhere to be," you reached out and gently squeezed his arm, reassuring him that your offer was genuine. "My car's over in that parking garage over there," you motioned towards the large structure across the street.

"Okay, sure. Thank you," Chris said, pulling his hood over his head as the chilly wind started to pick up. You stuffed your hands into your coat pockets, and the two of you started slowly meandering over in that direction, your heels click-clacking against the pavement, and Chris' sneakers pitter-pattering next to you.

"So, you're all grown up now. Got your own place, got your own job.." you smiled over at him. "Yeah, I do. I have my own car, too, but it's in the shop right now," he sighed.

"Is it gonna be expensive to fix?" You wondered aloud. "A little, but on the bright side, I'm saving money on gas walking and taking the bus to work," Chris shrugged, the corner of his lip turning up in a weak smile.

"What are you doing for work?" You asked, glancing both ways before crossing the street. "Landscaping, construction, some basic handy-man work," he answered you.

"Is that how you got these?" You flirtatiously squeezed his bicep. He scoffed and laughed, his heartbeat quickening as your touch lingered.

"What do you do for work?" He asked, flipping the question around on you and taking the attention off of himself. "See that little window right there? I work at that law firm," you told him, pointing up at the tall building a couple blocks away.

"No way! You're a lawyer?" He assumed, lifting his eyebrows. "No, just a paralegal," you responded, laughing. Chris didn't really understand the difference.

He thought about making a comment about you being dressed way too hot to be a lawyer, but he bit his tongue, worried that it might come out wrong.

"Hey, you're not in a rush to get home, are you?" You stopped, turning to him. "No. No hurry," Chris replied, shrugging his shoulders and secretly hoping to spend more time with you.

"There's a coffee shop about a block away. How about we go grab a drink and get out of the cold for a bit?" You suggested, the chill of the air biting at the tip of your nose. "That sounds nice," Chris nodded, following your lead.

"So, how's your mom doing?" You wondered, peering over at Chris. "She's doing well. She misses you. You were her favorite babysitter, you know. She'd always call you first when she needed someone to watch me," Chris admitted.

"Good. That means you didn't tell her I let you watch scary movies with me and stay up way past your bedtime," you joked. "Nope. Still haven't told her to this day," Chris responded, winking in your direction.

"Good boy," you said, ruffling his hair again. Blood rushed to his cheeks, and his face turned a bit red with embarrassment.

You didn't mean for that moment to create so much sexual tension between the two of you, but your eyes met for just a second, both of you conveying a look of desire. You both glanced away just as quickly, letting the moment pass.

You cleared your throat before speaking again. "So your mom. She still working at the hospital?" You wondered, rubbing your hands together to keep them warm before nestling them back into your big coat pockets. "Yeah, still working long hours," he replied.

You lead Chris down an alley tucked between two tall buildings where you were temporarily safe from the windchill. Chris ran his fingertips along the cold brick as he turned the corner, the rough surface leaving him with both a strange and satisfying sensation.

A comfortable silence lingered between you as you meandered down the path, not wanting to fill each other in too quickly on your lives to keep the visit from being cut short.

The sounds of the city moved around you, traffic bustling and people clamoring about. The city was like that, everyone always onto the next thing. It seemed like you and Chris were the only ones dragging out your steps, trying to pass the time instead of racing it.

You turned another corner, leading Chris back out into the strong winds as you pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear in an attempt to keep it from blowing wildy in your face.

Straight ahead tucked between an antique shop and a record store was the coffeehouse you frequented. You and Chris, once again, glanced both ways before crossing the street.

Despite the frigid air, Chris' palms had grown sweaty from his nervous energy. He felt like a little kid again in the presence of his pretty babysitter, who he'd always had a raging crush on, hoping you thought he was cool, or at the very least, not uncool.

He subtly wiped the perspiration off on the front of his jeans before reaching for the door with a shaky hand, holding it for you, and nodding for you to go through it.

The two of you shuffled into the warm, cozy lobby of the café, so warm that the first thing you did was remove your coat and sling it over your arm, prompting Chris' eyes to drop to the bit of exposed cleavage that peeked out over your neckline.

The ambience was just right, smooth jazz playing softly in the background, warm overhead lighting, and the hiss of milk being steamed to perfection. The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and sweet flavors wafted through the welcoming atmosphere.

Chris got a peppermint mocha, and you ordered a cortado, which Chris insisted on paying for, and you didn't put up a fight.

He'd always been sweet like that, even when you two were just kids. He was always holding doors open for you and waiting to eat his dinner until you'd taken your place at the table.

He was always considerate and gentleman-like, a product of his personality and his mother's good morals.

The two of you found a place to sit near the back next to a big window, and while the two of you were reminiscing on old memories, the server brought the two of you your drinks.

You thanked him, but when Chris' eyes landed on your coffee, his smile fell. "Hey, want me to go bring this back? I think they brought you the wrong thing," Chris offered.

"No, this is what I ordered!" You assured him. He stared inquisitively at your measly 4 oz drink, wondering what the appeal was.

"It's really good, Chris. I promise," you responded, reading his expression. "I'd ask for a taste, but I'd finish it off in one sip," he joked. You rolled your eyes, but you laughed along.

"So, are you still with Kyle?" He wondered aloud, staring down at your hands that were cupping your drink, searching for a wedding band or engagement ring.

"No," you told him, your hands retreating and falling into your lap. "He wasted my time, really. We were together for nine years and in the midst of our three-year-long engagement, he cheated on me," you scoffed.

"I knew I never liked that guy," Chris muttered, clenching his jaw. "I know you didn't. You'd always try to sit between us on the couch and interrupt us right when we were about to kiss," you recalled, the corner of your lip morphing into a faint smile.

It was hard for you to deny the little crush Chris had on you when he was a young boy, but sitting in front of him now in this coffee shop, admiring the way his features had aged like fine wine, you wondered if the tables had turned.

Chris bit back a smirk as he recalled a few times that he had "woken up" from a nightmare, pulling your attention away with your shitty boyfriend at the time so that you'd have to come to his rescue and comfort him. Kyle had even accused him of faking before.

"Kid always has a bad dream every time we're about to do it," he'd snarked at you once, pulling you back onto his lap, which caused a verbal disagreement to break out between the two of you.

"Kyle! You asshole! He's eleven! He's not thinking like that," You had whisper-yelled in response, pushing him away and following Chris to his bedroom to lull him back to sleep.

Chris had overheard the conversation from down the hall, but even now, over ten years later, he couldn't admit to you that most of the time, he was faking his nightmares.

No one had had the talk with Chris at this point, but he had a vague idea of what it meant when Kyle would stay the night, and he felt an incredible amount of jealousy when he would.

"How about you, Chris? You dating anyone? I bet the girls can't stay away from you," You flattered him, putting your drink to your lips and taking a sip.

He blushed and shook his head after drinking from his own coffee. "I've actually never had a serious girlfriend. Can't seem to get past the talking stage with girls," Chris nervously said, avoiding eye contact.

"Oh, well, there's nothing wrong with that, Chris," you reassured him, pitifully running your thumb across the back of his hand. You meant for the gesture to be reassuring, but Chris found it condescending. He jerked his hand back.

"You think I'm a loser, don't you?" Chris huffed, peering out of the café window. "Chris. Look at me. Of course, I don't think that," you responded, studying his facial expressions.

"Of course, you do think that. I'm a twenty-two-year-old who's never.." Chris began to say, but he cut himself off, fearing he'd already said too much.

"Oh! You've never..?" You asked, your voice started to trail off. He didn't answer you, but his face turned a deep red.

"Chris, there's nothing wrong with that. I just assumed.. I just thought.. I'm just surprised. That's all," you managed to get out, foolishly stumbling over your words and wondering how someone you'd known for so long and who was so much younger than you was making you as nervous as you were.

"Why are you surprised?" He asked, your assumption taking him aback. "You're just so hot," you accidentally blurted out, astounding yourself with how forward your comment was.

"You think so?" He asked, his eyebrows flicking up in shock. He blushed a little harder, but his previously embarrassed expression morphed into something softer.

"I mean, you're conventionally attractive. You're a total gentleman. You just need a little confidence, and you'd be unstoppable," you stroked his ego, taking a sip of your coffee.

"You think I'm hot?" He wondered, still stuck on your compliment, his lips curling into a flattered smile. "Don't make me say it again," you chuckled, rolling your eyes.

Chris narrowed his gaze at you while he took a sip of his peppermint mocha. "What else do you think of me?" He inquired, locking eyes with you.

"I think any woman would be lucky to be your first," you replied, reaching out and stroking the back of his hand again. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he relished in the soothing feeling of your thumb brushing against his knuckles.

"Any woman? Even you?" He suggested, surprising himself with the brief moment of confidence he found himself swept up in. The silence that followed his question was heavy, and the tension between the two of you was thick.

You wet your lips, studying his handsome facial features, but before you could answer, one of the coffee shop employees floated over to your table. They offered to take your empty cortado glass out of the way to which you pulled back your hand, nodded, and thanked them.

"I should take you home," you declared, softly smiling in Chris' direction. "Okay," Chris affirmed, taking his peppermint mocha to-go.

The two of you left the coffeeshop, putting back on all your layers before setting back out into the winter weather.

You made your way out the door, the whistling wind whirring past you as you wandered back to your car. You and Chris walked silently through the city streets and through the cobblestone alleys between the buildings that towered over Boston.

Your mind churned, worrying that you'd made the reunion awkward and quietly kicking yourself for your word choice in the coffeehouse.

"Here we are," you announced once the two you had reached the parking garage. You reached into your purse, retrieved your keys, and unlocked your car.

Chris turned to you with wide eyes, and his jaw dropped when he realized the black Mercedes was yours.

"Damn. When did you get rich?" He questioned you, opening the passenger side door and running his fingers along the dark red interior.

"I wouldn't say I'm rich," you scoffed, humbly shrugging before opening the driver's side door.

"I should've had you pay for my coffee," the blue-eyed boy joked, admiring the sleek look of your car and setting his drink in your cup holder. "Next time I will," you smiled at him as your engine roared to life.

You turned on your heater, and each of you shed a layer as the car started to warm up. "Alright, Chris. What's the address to your apartment complex?"

He read it off to you while you put it in your GPS. You carefully backed out of your parking spot and navigated your way onto the main road towards his place.

"So, I mean, it's been eleven years. What else has been going on in your life besides dumping Kyle and getting rich?" Chris playfully inquired.

"A lot, actually. After high school, I took a year off. Then when I went back to school and got my bachelor's degree in law. I worked at a few places as a secretary before finally finding this job about three years ago shortly after Kyle and I broke it off, and I've been making good money ever since," you told him.

"I even bought my first house last year by myself," you added, trying not to sound too cocky but unable to hide how proud you were.

"That's amazing. I love a strong, independent woman," Chris smirked, sipping on his coffee, his gaze lingering on you as you focused on the road ahead.

"How about you, Chris? What have you been up to since I last saw you?" You returned the question.

You spent the rest of the car ride catching up with Chris, getting to know him all over again. It was surprising and comforting how many things about him hadn't changed - his sweet and shy demeanor, his mannerisms, and his laugh.

The parts of him that did change, you liked - his matured features and his deep, sexy voice.

While the two of you were chatting and approaching an intersection, someone ran a red light, causing you to slam down on the brake pedal. Chris spilled his drink, sending coffee dripping down the front of his white t-shirt.

"Shit," he muttered. "Are you okay?" You asked, your heart racing while you tried to catch your breath. You pulled off onto the shoulder of the road to collect yourself.

"I'm fine. I just feel like an idiot for spilling in your car," Chris sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling his shirt off over his head.

"It's not your fault, Chris. It doesn't.. it doesn't even look like you got it anywhere besides.." You managed to get out as you motioned towards his shirt that was no longer on his body.

Your eyes dropped to his chest, his arms, and to his stomach. He caught you staring and smirked in your direction. You immediately pulled your eyes off him and placed them back onto the road in front of you, clearing your throat.

"Sorry about that," you said, half-apologizing for making him spill and half-apologizing for ogling him like a creep. "Don't be sorry," he paused. "About anything."

His eyes lingered on you, biting down on his bottom lip. He wondered if you wanted him as badly as he wanted you.

You turned down a few unfamiliar streets, following the GPS directions into the complex where Chris lived.

"Take this road all the way down, and you can park at any of those unmarked spaces on the left," he instructed you. You pulled into a spot and threw the gear shifter into park.

"Well, here we are!" You exclaimed, glancing over at Chris, your eyes dancing over his stature one more time. "Thank you so much for the ride. It really means a lot. So much better than taking the bus," Chris remarked, smiling at you.

"Hey, if you want, I can wash your shirt for you. I'm pretty good at getting stains out," you suggested, extending your hand and offering to take his shirt.

"I'd appreciate that. Thank you," Chris responded, handing it off to you and getting ready to get out of the car.

"Hey, wait! Before you go, let's exchange numbers. You know, that way I can return this once it's washed," you proposed. Chris agreed, trying not to sound too eager and reaching for his phone that was tucked into his pocket.

You swapped contact information with him, told him to call anytime, and ruffled his hair again.

"Hey. Do you wanna come inside? I can give you a tour," Chris offered, not wanting to say goodbye to you just yet.

"Sure," you nodded, cutting the engine and following Chris up the stairs to his place.

You couldn't keep your eyes off the muscles in his back. He placed his key into the lock, turning it until he heard a faint click. He pushed open the door and motioned for you to enter first.

It was a typical twenty-something-year-old man's apartment - clothes strewn on the floor, a few dishes stacked in the sink, and a couch in the living room pointed at a TV.

He had stacks of video games, naughty magazines, and a few empty soda cans scattered on his coffee table. His place was a little unorganized, but it wasn't filthy.

"Sorry about the mess," Chris apologized, scurrying over to the dirty magazines and stuffing them under his sofa cushion when he thought you weren't paying attention.

"Uh, I'll show you my room," he mumbled, leading the way to his bedroom door. His sheets were thrown lazily onto his twin-sized bed, and he didn't have much else in his room besides a wooden nightstand.

"If you need to use the bathroom, it's right there," Chris motioned towards the door across the hall. You followed him back out towards the front door.

"And the kitchen," he motioned towards the small room with the fridge in it. "I know it's not much," Chris shrugged.

"But it's your first place by yourself, and that's a big deal. I'm really proud of you!" You warmly smiled, pulling him into another hug.

Your fingerstips glided across his shirtless back, and blood immediately rushed to his dick.

"Thanks! It's relatively cheap, too," Chris remarked, pulling away and making over towards the couch in the living room.

He plopped down onto the furniture and pulled a throw pillow onto his lap, hoping he was being discrete. He wasn't.

You took a seat on his couch beside him, shifting uncomfortably about on his lumpy cushion. You decided to mess with him a bit.

"C'mon, don't look at those," he nervously whined as you reached under the sofa cushion, retrieving a few dirty magazines. Your lips curled into a devious smile as you flipped through one.

"You might be a virgin, but you're not that innocent, are you?" You cooed.

He buried his face in his hands while you sifted through the images of naked girls, half-expecting you to start making fun of him or tell him how disgusting he was for getting off to such content.

When you didn't, he peeked back up at you. You looked more intrigued than anything. You crossed your legs and squeezed them together as you imagined him rubbing one out while his dreamy, blue eyes struggled to focus on the page.

"Why don't you show me what you do with them?" You cooed. "Wh-what do you mean?" He timidly asked.

"Don't play dumb, pretty boy," you leaned in, whispering into his ear, gently planting a kiss on the side of his neck. "You know exactly what I mean. Show me."

His eyes fluttered closed, and his jaw fell open as he processed your request. "Uh huh," he nodded, his heart beating in his ears as his shaky, sweaty hand reached for the button on his pants.

"Say, yes, mommy," you sensually whispered against his flesh that was radiating heat. "Yes, mommy," he articulated, putting a lustful emphasis on the final word.

With your tongue licking a stripe up his neck, you heard the soft zip of his jeans being undone. You felt him start pumping away his length. You suckled gently on his skin.

"Ahh," a faint gasp snuck past his lips, his breath shallowing. You pulled away to catch a glimpse of what was between his legs.

"Wow," you purred, zeroing in on his swollen, mushroom-shaped head. Another pretty moan unfurled from his pink, parted lips while he caressed his sensitive tip.

"Look at that," you gasped, admiring the way precum started drooling from his slit while he played with it. "Good boy," you quietly praised him while his slender fingers were wrapped around his length, stroking it up and down at a quickening pace.

"I just know you fuck hard," you sinfully purred into his ear, his grip around his cock growing tighter. He threw his head back, giving you better access as you went back to suckling on his neck.

"Mommy, I need you," Chris relayed in a strangled moan, desperation seeping into his tone. "What do you need, Chris? Use your words, pretty boy," you cooed. A smirk played into the corner of his mouth as he listened to your praise.

"Show me what it's like to be touched by a woman," he quietly requested. "Where do you want me to touch you, baby? Right here?" You teased, gently tapping his tip with the end of your pointer finger.

"Yes, mommy. Right there," he eagerly affirmed. You gently caressed the back of the head, tracing his veins with your fingertips. You tightened your grip, replacing his own hand with yours.

He let go, letting you take the reigns as a needy whine drifted to your ears. "Yes, mommy," he replied.

You tilted his chin to face you, and you leaned in, locking your lips with his, his faint whimpers vibrating against your mouth.

He couldn't believe he was kissing you, his childhood babysitter, the woman he'd been fantasizing about for over a decade. He still wasn't convinced that this wasn't some sort of vivid dream or intense reverie.

You had one hand tangled in his hair and the other, gripping his length and pumping it at a steady pace. His hard cock involuntarily throbbed in your grasp.

"Look at me, baby," you whispered after you pulled away from the kiss, but only by a few inches. "Is it everything you wanted it to be, pretty boy?" You wondered, holding his gaze with your nose gently brushing against his while you tugged on his messy locks.

"Yes, mommy," he answered, his features and his voice saturated in lust. You looked into his pretty blue eyes while you stroked him faster and faster, feeling his cock twitch at the sensation.

He was so eager to be played with by you that he could barely contain himself.

You watched the muscles in his face tighten, his eyebrows knitting together and his eyes squeezing shut. He shuddered under your touch.

He clutched the couch cushion beneath him with both hands, curling his fingers and his toes as you brought him to climax.

A slew of guttural moans filled the room as he finished, his load squirting from his tip and painting his chest and his stomach, a bit of cum pooling into his belly button.

The warm, white substance dripped down onto your hand as you brought your movements to a standstill.

You released his soft, brown hair from your tight grasp, and he sank into the soft sofa. A satisfied smile crossed his face as he tried to regulate his breathing. He had never felt that much pleasure before.

Embarrassment flooded his system when he realized it took all of about four minutes for him to cum.

"I'm sorry I finished so fast," he mumbled breathlessly as he giggled and hid his face in his hands, reverting back to his shy nature.

"Don't be sorry, baby. About anything. You were such a good boy for me. Next time I'll show you how to last longer."

˚₊ · »-♡→ part two here

[euphoricfilter]

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• ° kinktober masterlist

31 days of smut let’s get it °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

please read the warnings for each chapter!!

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

☆ day 1 ~ taehyung: breeding kink

tags/ warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, breeding kink, baby talk (but no actual kids because yuck)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 2 ~ : jimin: pet play

tags/ warnings: pwp, pet play, ass play, fingering of both holes, butt plugs, mild dumbification

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 3 ~ jungkook: thigh riding

tags/ warnings: pwp, thigh riding, cumming untouched, implied use of recreational drugs (weed)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 4 ~ hoseok: somnophilia

tags/ warnings: pwp, somnophilia, consensual drugging, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 5 ~ yoongi: praise kink

tags/warnings: pwp, oral (m. receiving), praise kink, vaginal fingering, cum swallowing

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 6 ~seokjin: corruption kink

tags/ warnings: pwp, corruption kink, he’s a little condescending too, just jin teaching you how to touch yourself?, fingering, cumming untouched

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 7 ~ namjoon: double penetration

tags/ warnings: pwp, use of a dildo (the ones that have a hole for fake cum), double penetration, unprotected sex, creampie x2 ?, squirting

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 8 ~ jungkook: size kink

tags/ warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, creampie, size kink, he’s hung okay? whatever you’re thinking make it bigger— he has a fat cock, belly bulge

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 9 ~ taehyung: watersports

tags/ warnings: pwp, watersports (pee), cumming untouched, literally wet and messy

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 10 ~ jimin: cock warming

tags/warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, creampie, cock warming

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 11 ~ hoseok: oral fixation

tags/ warnings: pwp, fingers in mouth!!!! (lets gooo), oral (m. receiving), cum swallowing, subspace, condescending dom hoseok!!! (lets gooooooo!!!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 12 ~ yoongi: overstimulation

tags/ warnings: pwp, vibrator, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, minor oral? (f. receiving), unprotected sex

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 13 ~ seokjin: creampie

tags/ warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, creampie, cum kink, lil spanking action

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 14 ~ namjoon: face sitting

tags/ warnings: pwp, touched on insecurities, face sitting, namjoon’s a munch, grinding, pleasure dom joon

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 15 ~ jungkook: fingering

tags/ warnings: pwp, fingering, a singular slap to the pussy, squirting, cumming untouched, cum swallowing? sort of? cum is ingested basically, all very lighthearted and fun

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 16 ~ taehyung: spit kink

tags/ warnings: pwp, spitting in a mouth (yum?), wet and messy, unprotected sex, creampie

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 17 ~ jimin: mirror sex

tags/ warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, fingering, exhibitionism? kinda, they just fuck in a public gym, the panties stayed on, finger in mouth !!!!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 18 ~ hoseok: squirting

☆ day 19 ~ yoongi: free use

☆ day 20 ~ seokjin: spanking

☆ day 21 ~ namjoon: voyeurism

☆ day 22 ~ jungkook: exhibitionism

☆ day 23 ~ taehyung: knotted dildo

☆ day 24 ~ jimin: role play

☆ day 25 ~ hoseok: primal play

☆ day 26 ~ yoongi: shibari

☆ day 27 ~ seokjin: vibrator

☆ day 28 ~ namjoon: cum stuffing

☆ day 29 ~ jungkook: pantie kink

☆ day 30 ~ taehyung: belly bulge

☆ day 31 ~ yoongi: mask kink

[mostlysignssomeportents]

NLRB rules that any union busting triggers automatic union recognition

Tonight (September 6) at 7pm, I'll be hosting Naomi Klein at the LA Public Library for the launch of Doppelganger.

On September 12 at 7pm, I'll be at Toronto's Another Story Bookshop with my new book The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.

American support for unions is at its highest level in generations, from 70% (general population) to 88% (Millenials) – and yet, American unionization rates are pathetic.

That's about to change.

The National Labor Relations Board just handed down a landmark ruling – the Cemex case – that "brought worker rights back from the dead."

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-08-28-bidens-nlrb-brings-workers-rights-back/

At issue in Cemex was what the NLRB should do about employers that violate labor law during union drives. For decades, even the most flagrantly illegal union-busting was met with a wrist-slap. For example, if a boss threatened or fired an employee for participating in a union drive, the NLRB would typically issue a small fine and order the employer to re-hire the worker and provide back-pay.

Everyone knows that "a fine is a price." The NLRB's toothless response to cheating presented an easily solved equation for corrupt, union-hating bosses: if the fine amounts to less than the total, lifetime costs of paying a fair wage and offering fair labor conditions, you should cheat – hell, it's practically a fiduciary duty:

https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/468061

Enter the Cemex ruling: once a majority of workers have signed a union card, any Unfair Labor Practice by their employer triggers immediate, automatic recognition of the union. In other words, the NLRB has fitted a tilt sensor in the American labor pinball machine, and if the boss tries to cheat, they automatically lose.

Cemex is a complete 180, a radical transformation of the American labor regulator from a figleaf that legitimized union busting to an actual enforcer, upholding the law that Congress passed, rather than the law that America's oligarchs wish Congress had passed. It represents a turning point in the system of lawless impunity for American plutocracy.

In the words of Frank Wilhoit, it is is a repudiation of the conservative dogma: "There must be in-groups whom the law protects but does not bind, alongside out-groups whom the law binds but does not protect":

https://crookedtimber.org/2018/03/21/liberals-against-progressives/#comment-729288

It's also a stunning example of what regulatory competence looks like. The Biden administration is a decidedly mixed bag. On the one hand there are empty suits masquerading as technocrats, champions of the party's centrist wing (slogan: "Everything is fine and change is impossible"):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

But the progressive, Sanders/Warren wing of the party installed some fantastically competent, hard-charging, principled fighters, who are chapter-and-verse on their regulatory authority and have the courage to use that authority:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

They embody the old joke about the photocopier technician who charges "$1 to kick the photocopier and $79 to know where to kick it." The best Biden appointees have their boots firmly laced, and they're kicking that mother:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/16/the-second-best-time-is-now/#the-point-of-a-system-is-what-it-does

One such expert kicker is NLRB General Counsel Jennifer Abruzzo. Abruzzo has taken a series of muscular, bold moves to protect American workers, turning the tide in the class war that the 1% has waged on workers since the Reagan administration. For example, Abruzzo is working to turn worker misclassification – the fiction that an employee is a small business contracting with their boss, a staple of the "gig economy" – into an Unfair Labor Practice:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/10/see-you-in-the-funny-papers/bidens-legacy

She's also waging war on robo-scab companies: app-based employment "platforms" like Instawork that are used to recruit workers to cross picket lines, under threat of being blocked from the app and blackballed by hundreds of local employers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/30/computer-says-scab/#instawork

With Cemex, Abruzzo is restoring a century-old labor principle that has been gathering dust for generations: the idea that workers have the right to organize workplace gemocracies without fear of retaliation, harassment, or reprisals.

But as Harold Meyerson writes for The American Prospect, the Cemex ruling has its limits. Even if the NLRB forces and employer to recognize a union, they can't force the employer to bargain in good faith for a union contract. The National Labor Relations Act prohibits the Board from imposing a contract.

That's created a loophole that corrupt bosses have driven entire fleets of trucks through. Workers who attain union recognition face years-long struggles to win a contract, as their bosses walk away from negotiations or offer farcical "bargaining positions" in the expectation that they'll be rejected, prolonging the delay.

Democrats have been trying to fix this loophole since the LBJ years, but they've been repeatedly blocked in the senate. But Abruzzo is a consummate photocopier kicker, and she's taking aim. In Thrive Pet Healthcare, Abruzzo has argued that failing to bargain in good faith for a contract is itself an Unfair Labor Practice. That means the NLRB has the authority to act to correct it – they can't order a contract, but they can order the employer to give workers "wages, benefits, hours, and such that are comparable to those provided by comparable unionized companies in their field."

Mitch McConnell is a piece of shit, but he's no slouch at kicking photocopiers himself. For a whole year, McConnell has blocked senate confirmation hearings to fill a vacant seat on the NLRB. In the short term, this meant that the three Dems on the board were able to hand down these bold rulings without worrying about their GOP colleagues.

But McConnell was playing a long game. Board member Gwynne Wilcox's term is about to expire. If her seat remains vacant, the three remaining board members won't be able to form a quorum, and the NLRB won't be able to do anything.

As Meyerson writes, centrist Dems have refused to push McConnell on this, hoping for comity and not wanting to violate decorum. But Chuck Schumer has finally bestirred himself to fight this issue, and Alaska GOP senator Lisa Murkowski has already broken with her party to move Wilcox's confirmation to a floor vote.

The work of enforcers like DoJ Antitrust Division boss Jonathan Kanter, FTC chair Lina Khan, and SEC chair Gary Gensler is at the heart of Bidenomics: the muscular, fearless deployment of existing regulatory authority to make life better for everyday Americans.

But of course, "existing regulatory authority" isn't the last word. The judges filling stolen seats on the illegitimate Supreme Court had invented the "major questions doctrine" and have used it as a club to attack Biden's photocopier-kickers. There's real danger that Cemex – and other key actions – will get fast-tracked to SCOTUS so the dotards in robes can shatter our dreams for a better America.

Meyerson is cautiously optimistic here. At 40% (!), the Court's approval rating is at a low not seen since the New Deal showdowns. The Supremes don't have an army, they don't have cops, they just have legitimacy. If Americans refuse to acknowledge their decisions, all they can do it sit and stew:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/26/mint-the-coin-etc-etc/#blitz-em

The Court knows this. That's why they fume so publicly about attacks on their legitimacy. Without legitimacy, they're nothing. With the Supremes' support at 40% and union support at 70%, any judicial attack on Cemex could trigger term-limits, court-packing, and other doomsday scenarios that will haunt the relatively young judges for decades, as the seats they stole dwindle into irrelevance. Meyerson predicts that this will weigh on them, and may stay their hands.

Meyerson might be wrong, of course. No one ever lost money betting on the self-destructive hubris of Federalist Society judges. But even if he's wrong, his point is important. If the Supremes frustrate the democratic will of the American people, we have to smash the Supremes. Term limits, court-packing, whatever it takes:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/20/judicial-equilibria/#pack-the-court

And the more we talk about this – the more we make this consequence explicit – the more it will weigh on them, and the better the chance that they'll surprise us. That's already happening! The Supremes just crushed the Sackler opioid crime-family's dream of keeping their billions in blood-money:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/11/justice-delayed/#justice-redeemed

But if it doesn't stop them? If they crush this dream, too? Pack the court. Impose term limits. Make it the issue. Don't apologize, don't shrug it off, don't succumb to learned helplessness. Make it our demand. Make it a litmus test: "If elected, will you vote to pack the court and clear the way for democratic legitimacy?"

Meanwhile, Cemex is already bearing fruit. After an NYC Trader Joe's violated the law to keep Trader Joe's United from organizing a store, the workers there have petitioned to have their union automatically recognized under the Cemex rule:

https://truthout.org/articles/trader-joes-union-files-to-force-company-to-recognize-union-under-new-nlrb-rule/

With the NLRB clearing the regulatory obstacles to union recognition, America's largest unions are awakening from their own long slumbers. For decades, unions have spent a desultory 3% of their budgets on organizing workers into new locals. But a leadership upset in the AFL-CIO has unions ready to catch a wave with the young workers and their 88% approval rating, with a massive planned organizing drive:

https://prospect.org/labor/labors-john-l-lewis-moment/

Meyerson calls on other large unions to follow suit, and the unions seem ready to do so, with new leaders and new militancy at the Teamsters and UAW, and with SEIU members at unionized Starbucks waiting for their first contracts.

Turning union-supporting workers into unionized workers is key to fighting Supreme Court sabotage. Organized labor will give fighters like Abruzzo the political cover she needs to Get Shit Done. A better America is possible. It's within our grasp. Though there is a long way to go, we are winning crucial victories all the time.

The centrist message that everything is fine and change is impossible is designed to demoralize you, to win the fight in your mind so they don't have to win it in the streets and in the jobsite. We don't have to give them that victory. It's ours for the taking.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 32. uno reverse

chapter tags/warnings: aftercare. mentions of cum and creampies. other sexual content. nicknames. extremely strong language. corruption. family drama.

word count: 3.9k

notes: the last chapter was 97% smut. oops. plot? literally, what plot? well, here is the plot. also, happy new year's eve and new years! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

With sweat stuck onto your forehead and spit plastered across your chin, you panted like an overheated dog. Such were the consequences of dealing with too many hands, cocks, and men.

After the sinful fiasco with your sex therapists, your body quivered from exhaustion.

Not to mention, you had been stuffed.

Holding in a potent cum concoction within your womb, you did your best to keep the fluids in, but the sheer volume forced a slow dribble to slide down your plush inner thighs.

You winced from the unwelcome cool against your warm skin, feeling flustered, frazzled, and disheveled.

Sukuna thumbed the dried tears that streaked your cheeks, Geto carded his hand through your hair, and Choso massaged the sore spots on your soft ass, all cooing about how you’ve been an angel for them and that maybe…you all should find time to do this again.

When the three dressed themselves and stepped out eventually for a cigarette, they left you looking at your window reflection, in which you noticed how makeup smudged across your cheeks and how fluids coated your neck and chest.

Never had you felt this...deranged.

Yet, absolutely nothing could be compared to the hot mess that was the Toji Fushiguro whom you straddled.

The man lolled his head back with a low groan and ran his thick fingers through his scalp. His dark strands had become drenched in perspiration and clung to his face's rugged planes. Blistering in his formal attire, he tossed his charcoal blazer aside, undid his knotted tie, and stripped off his button-down. His chest, dusted in a healthy pink shade, heaved. After his pleasure, he still looked like a Greek god in his shame.

Despite all your egregious encounters with him, you still flushed when seeing his bare-chested body. His formalwear might be different from his usual black T-shirt and white lab coat, but he hadn't really changed. He was still fit and subtly edgy with the designs that swirled around his chiseled upper body.

Amid the tattooed tapestry, your gaze once again became drawn by the inked phoenix that rose victoriously from ashes, a symbol that seemed like a parallel to Toji himself. Resilient. Indestructible. Enduring. Both confronting and overcoming challenges, standing stronger and more determined despite their struggles. Each feather branded across his torso held wordless stories about not only his triumphs but also his scars.

“Princess likes what she sees?”

Toji's sudden interjection surprised you. Fuck, he's caught me staring.

After you ogled at his body for too long, the man had naturally taken note, and—with you, of course—he simply had to tease.

"Your tattoos suit you," you had been forced to admit. Not that you lied.

In response, his green eyes held a gentle glister that contrasted with his animalistic actions mere moments ago. "That’s cute. Thank you."

He reached over your shoulder for a tissue and dabbed at your collarbone.

"What are you doing?"

"Cleaning you up," answered Toji promptly. With the napkin, he soaked up sins, wiping away at the unholy mixture between sweat, spit, and semen as though they never tainted your perfect body in the first place. "That's the least I can do."

He worked in silence, slightly hunched in his seat, the scattered light from the above chandelier casting sharp shadows over his angular face. Wisps of jet-black hair framed his temples as he hung his head in focus, his breathing turning steady. Toji looked so normal, like he wasn't some sex therapist or some important corporate executive or an heir to a multi-billion fortune.

In this one, singular moment, Toji was just...Toji.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked suddenly.

"Doing what?" Mistakenly, he assumed you referred to how he sought another napkin, this time to wipe at the trickle that ran like white lava down your thighs. “We made a mess."

"No, not that. Why did you become my therapist?" Of course, you did not forget your first encounter with Dr. Fushiguro, particularly how Toji ripped your new patient form to literal shreds the moment he noticed your last name. “You could've kicked me out of your office that day and left me miserable, but you didn't. Why?"

He slowed in his motions and his hot breath skimmed over your upper lip.

Then, he smiled faintly. "Can I abstain?"

This was his hint that the answer wouldn’t be something you liked.

"No." You still wanted to know. "Tell me, please."

Despite your reassurance, he seemed reluctant, his jaw working as he trapped his tongue piercing between his teeth.

"Because you were too…innocent," Toji eventually admitted. He sounded earnest, but he gave you a cautious glance like he wanted to gauge your reaction. "A pretty lady coming to see Toji Fushiguro because his little cousin Naoya Zenin couldn't please you properly? Clearly, you've never had a proper fuck. I wanted to completely ruin you, baby. I wanted to use you. And, shit, that pussy made me want to keep you for myself forever. Sure, I also had a two-timing ex, but who cares about my little cousin's mistress when I had his wife in front of me?"

Even though you braced for a brutally honest response, hearing his words firsthand stung.

Yes, you were naïve back then. However, to hear your closest confidant admit his initial, manipulative motives jabbed at your sensitive heart.

From your husband to your therapist, you were constantly a pawn on another person's chessboard. Yet, the worst part was that you didn't notice the game until much later.

"I am sorry," Toji started again. Perceptive as usual, he noticed how your mood suddenly soured. "I had all these shitty intentions because Naoya fucked me over, so I wanted to take my anger out on you. But, when I realized that you’re just an oblivious puppet in his play, I wanted him to realize that he was mistreating you, and," one long exhale, "most importantly, I truly did want to help you."

Mulling over his words carefully, you sank your face into his shoulder. "Are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

“No, I am being honest," and the dark green in his eyes reflected that. "I didn't expect to ever see you again after our first session. Thought you got scared off for good until you called me to book another appointment. Honestly, at that point, people suspected you to be Naoya’s lap-bitch and spy. Hope that explains the shitty attitudes from the other therapists and my son." Toji flicked the dirty tissue into the wastebasket. "I defended you, though, if that means anything. I thought you were nice and entertaining and, as I've pointed out numerous times, that you deserved better. What I didn't think was how I would end up bringing you into," and he motioned around with his head, "all of this.”

Breathing in slowly, you took in the man's heavy bergamot scent and allowed his warmth to anchor you.

“So, how do you plan to use me now?”

Among your incessant inquiries, this question must be the most pointed.

Toji, realizing this, gazed ahead. Momentarily, you wondered where his thoughts had wandered off to this time, his focus on the ceiling sharpening for a moment before he reverted his attention back.

"There is no plan to ‘use’ you, sweetheart. Because you mean a lot to me," he still responded with great conviction. "You are cherished."

Beneath the rough edges in his features laid a softness—a softness that you started to become familiar with—as he brought his hands to your hip.

“Live a happy life without Naoya," he added eventually. "You don't need me and the other therapists anymore. Only brokenhearted and anguished people are our clients, so forgetting about us should be easy."

Was it wrong to feel even more hurt when you heard that?

Literally one moment ago, Toji was telling you how much you meant to him. Now, he was telling you to go?

"Client or not, I thought we were friends. You even told me once that I'm somebody special."

“You are," he responded matter-of-factly. "You are very special. Which is why I am not going to force you to hang around or anything. That way you don’t think anyone is ‘using’ you. You're young and capable, and I want you to live your life as you wish.” Then, his voice became uncharacteristically soft. “Because I care about you.”

As nonchalant as he tried to come off, Toji also sounded so...broken.

Plenty of people—plenty of women—came in and out of Toji's life. Megumi had said so himself, admitting that his father used to 'sleep around a bunch' after his biological mother passed.

Since then, Toji had probably gotten used to how the women he encountered only wanted him for his name, his wallet, or—yes, to put things bluntly—his dick. Tsumiki's mom would be the best and most recent example.

But, you wanted to heal Toji as much as Toji had healed you.

"There's something Megumi told me the first time I stayed over at your apartment," you began suddenly.

Toji arched a brow, the tendons by his neck taut. "Is that so?" Knowing his angsty son, he sounded curious but moreso concerned. "Like what?"

'Are you going to marry my dad?'

No, you would die from embarrassment before you could admit that.

"Megumi told me about what happened to his mom, your first wife."

"Ah." Beneath you, Toji tensed up. His tongue darted over his scar like he wanted to continue, but no words came out.

So, he stopped and waited for you to continue.

"I...am really sorry to hear about what happened to her."

In the end, Toji tilted his head, a small but obviously sad smile playing on his lips.

"That's years ago." He tried to sound like losing his first wife in a freak accident didn't haunt him anymore, but you knew that the catastrophe still did.

"Well, Megumi also told me about what your relationships with other women were like since then," you resumed. "Particularly about your second wife."

This time, you truly stumped him. "I see."

"Unlike her, I am not going anywhere," you asserted and tightened your hold around him. "No one is forcing that decision upon me, either. Since you want me to 'live my life as I wish,' my wish is for us to be friends for a long time...and for the same reasons friends want to be friends."

"Is that genuinely what you want?"

"Yes. Truly."

Whether due to your common backgrounds in the Japanese aristocracy or the juxtaposition he offered to your ex-husband, Toji had become your haven. He grounded you after your emotional tumbles and uplifted you with compliments and praise—like an anchor, an unyielding outlet with whom you could share your pains and transform your frustrations into something lesser.

Whenever you had needed him most, Toji had been there.

Always there.

Consequently, you hoped to be the same for him.

When Toji cupped your jaw with a large hand, you slowly pressed your cheek into his palm.

“You care a lot about others but forget to think about yourself,” you went on, criticizing him in a light tone. There was also a question that you had been meaning to ask. “Like, why did you agree to take on the CEO position again after experiencing the Zenin family and your past?”

His fingers flexed slightly into your skin.

“My decision is not about the people who wronged me, but rather the people who depend on me,” he clarified after a beat, his voice lowered like he confided in himself as much as in you. “I look at Mai and Maki, who’ve been treated like garbage their entire lives. I think about Megumi and Tsumiki, who deserve a world with the best opportunities. For them and for others, I want to create a future with something better. ”

Which reminds you.

For the therapists, taking on renewed roles within the Zenin Corporation would be concerning given that they have previously faced accusations of neglecting the business in favor of their own pursuits.

“What will happen to sex therapy?”

Naoya Zenin returned to his apartment lobby tossed (yes, tossed) following a blindfolded car ride home.

To some degree, he wished he hadn’t come back at all since—after retrieving his phone and searching the Internet—he discovered a new reality where media spokespeople, online netizens, and business leaders welcomed his cousin’s return to leadership while denouncing his own.

It was like the universe had been waiting to have Naoya reckon with his misconducts all at once, for he never fully understood the consequences of his sins until his face appeared over news websites, tabloid front pages, and social media feeds.

Even when he had business to attend to the following day, he could hardly push past his apartment entrance without being swarmed by meddlers who somehow had gotten intel on his address. Naturally, many people wanted to hear directly from the businessman who had fallen from grace, especially when the company he once led was one of the largest market players in the Asia-Pacific region. First came the paparazzi, the blinding white flashes from their cameras all seeking to capture his face. Then came the other onlookers, jeering with many insults his way.

‘A scumbag is what you are. A disgusting cheater!’ ‘You don't even deserve a penny of your net worth!” ‘Your company, colleagues, and family deserved better!’ 'Someone like Toji Fushiguro!'

The moment Naoya reached the backseat of his sedan, he smashed his phone in one savage blow, startling the chauffeur as the gadget's screen shattered. Didn’t matter. He had the money to replace that by noon anyway.

Meanwhile, with white-gloved hands on the wheel, the driver tried to hide his tremor.

"A-Are you o—"

"To the corporate headquarters," Naoya ordered. "Put your fucking foot on the pedal or the next thing I'll be blowing up is you."

"Yes."

Well, that shut him up.

Thanks to that, Naoya arrived at the Zenin Corporation headquarters in record-breaking time, but he encountered yet another human barrage. People shouted over one another, some even pushing microphones toward his face, as the crowd followed him like a gaggle of geese while he walked into the lobby.

He frowned when his ID badge failed at the security turnstiles, his access removed from the building's security system already. Just two days ago, he held hours-long meetings in the offices above. Now, two days later, he had been deemed an outsider without access to even the company café on the first floor.

He kicked the turnstile (as if that would change anything), and a steely voice interrupted his anger.

"Naoya Zenin, sir," a woman in a security uniform began, "you are no longer with the corporation and are causing a disturbance. Please, leave."

The blonde snapped his badge back into his palm before tucking both hands into the front pockets of his pressed pants. He sauntered forward slowly, making sure that the woman noticed the difference in their height. "No, I won't. I have an appointment."

"Please," she barged in again, unintimidated by his taller frame. Her voice this time was more stern as she glanced over at the nearby swarm. "You're creating a commotion on private property.”

Did he look like he cared? "My family's private property."

"Sir, I—"

"He’s with me." With a third voice joining the conversation, both turned around as no one other than Toji Fushiguro himself walked over. "I invited him for a private meeting. Allow me to escort him."

The antagonism that the security woman had with Naoya vanished completely as she apologized profusely to the older man, and the blonde found her switch in character fucking deplorable and insulting.

After a brief exchange, Toji looked over. “Thank you for arriving on time. I was worried you missed my text since I sent the message very early in the morning. Let me bring you upstairs.”

Despite receiving a smile, Naoya didn’t like the belittling and patronizing tone that made him feel like a child who needed a chaperone or a beggar who needed a savior.

Nonetheless, he followed in tense silence.

When he walked into the designated conference room, Naoya tried to not look surprised to also see his father and your father in the same vicinity as well (although, given that they were the Board Director and the Chief Operating Officer, respectively, that should’ve been expected).

He had to look away from their cold gazes and instead took the seat closest to the door. “Why do you want to talk to me?”

Toji, on the other hand, settled at the head of the table and crossed one leg over his knee. “This meeting is a courtesy​​. One you don’t deserve but here we are. We’ll be brief.” He leaned across the table, sliding over a sleek black folder. “Later today, the Zenin Corporation will hold a press conference to address our organizational and management changes. In this binder are terms for your settlement. We would like you to accept the proposal, leave, and never associate yourself with the Zenin name again.”

When Naoya saw the documents inside, he wanted to laugh right then and there. “This is a shitty offer that practically gives me nothing.”

What else did you expect? Toji’s unwavering expression seemed to say.

He even opened his mouth to speak, but a much coarser voice spoke first.

"Because you did that to yourself,” Naobito explained. “As of now, your actions have stripped you of everything and you’re still scoffing at someone else’s generosity? You’re a selfish manipulator who has jeopardized our stakeholders’ trust. Our family name will not tolerate your presence moving forward!"

"Listen, Father—"

"Mr. Zenin to you!"

Naoya could not believe he was related to the much older man in front of him. Except for their common features, the duo shared absolutely nothing including warmth for each other.

Which, to the blonde, was ridiculous. Because how could his parent not view the situation from his lens? No one understood the struggles that tormented him since his childhood and the reasons his anguish turned into greed.

"This isn’t fair.” Naoya’s voice rose, trembling with barely contained anger as he shoved the folder away. “I can’t understand you, Fa—Mr. Zenin. Why? Why does everything that Toji touches turn to gold in your eyes? The world welcomes him back like he’s a prodigy, and you hand him everything on a silver platter. But then, why can’t you defend your one and only son in a situation like this? Anything…anything I do, to you, is not enough.”

With his chest heaving, Naoya had to pause and catch his breath. He didn’t want to admit that he was on the verge of another outburst, only to be met with no sympathy in return.

"You and Toji have never been in the same position. Not now, not before, and not ever.” As the Chairman made himself clear, his voice cut through his son’s rant like a blade. “While no one is perfect, Toji—in the past and present—earns respect by owning his failures and proving his worth. Due to his team’s work in the last twenty-four hours, he stabilized the company, helping us avoid an immense drop in our market value and cancellations from our business partners.” In addition to his utter disregard for his son’s feelings, Naobito even mocked him with a scoff. “Meanwhile, you don’t play by the rules, boy. You exploit them to suit your needs, and when something backfires, you blame everyone but yourself. Toji didn’t come back because I handed him anything. He came back because he knows how to make amends.”

Stop.

Naoya wanted this mental torture to come to a fucking stop.

His father’s scorn was bad enough, but the comparison to Toji—always Toji—was like salt ground into an open wound. What made the situation a hundred times more humiliating was how his older cousin sat across the table with a nearly indiscernible smirk on his face.

Yet, what could he realistically do when the Chairman went on?

“In my entire life, I only requested from you one thing,” Naobito added. ‘Power and money did not interest him when compared to his daughter, so the one promise I made is that you would love her.’ “And what did you do?”

Precisely not that.

The pointed change in topic made Daisuke L/N sit forward uncomfortably.

"Be honest with us, Naoya," he said. "Aside from marrying my daughter to legitimize your position in your family and company, what other intentions did you have?"

The man stared ahead with a solemn expression because, in that moment, he wasn’t the Zenin Corporation’s Chief Operating Officer but merely a father.

A father who had been promised a dependable and loving son-in-law, not a cruel and ruthless deceiver.

Naoya shrugged.

"My original plan was to have your daughter for as long as I deemed her useful. Maybe until my old man kicked the bucket and I became the head of the Zenin household? Or, if I liked her enough, maybe longer? I don't know, not that I really cared." Naoya didn't give a shit that he sounded like a total sociopath. As a grown man, he could make his choices in speech. "But, what I did care about is how people only noticed me when I had that…that—"

At that, Toji had to cut him off. “You’ve said enough. We’re done here.”

“I’m not finished.”

“Yes, you are. As I mentioned earlier, this meeting is only a courtesy.”

Toji rose from his seat and adjusted his blazer, the other executives doing the same but with pursed frowns. When the Chairman and the COO left quickly in silent rage, Toji followed them and gestured toward the black folder again on his way out.

"Anyway, all the legal documents are in there. Can read through them, if you care. You have the next hour to inform my secretary of your decision. My advice is to accept our offer since no legitimate company in the Asia-Pacific—or anywhere else in the world—will want you now. You ensured that for yourself."

Toji walked to the exit in precise and confident strides, but just before disappearing into the halls, he paused.

"Oh, but one last request.” Except what he said next wasn’t a request, but a demand. “Never show yourself to us or anyone we care about again. Take this as a warning."

Then, the door clicked shut.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Naoya stood up.

“God fucking damnnit!” he hollered at the top of his lungs like a mad maniac. His hand shot out, sweeping the papers off the table violently, sending them scattering across the floor.

He hissed and seethed. How he hated this feeling. His current ordeal had been his wake-up call to realize that merely being born into status didn't mean he would be invincible.

If only he hadn’t let his unchecked arrogance blind him, then his life trajectory would have played out differently!

…Or maybe nothing would’ve changed at all.

Because perhaps, all these years, Naoya Zenin had been trying to grasp onto something that was never meant to be his.

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: This is my final update for the year, and the next chapter will be the final chapter for this entire fic. I'll save my sentimental notes for later because I don't want to get sappy, but I wish everyone love, hugs, and good health forever and ever! Side note: I am very bad at updating the below taglist, sorry!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @sakuraryomen01 @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzuruu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @lazyassfinals @katkbc @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

[zolass]

Detectives Attraction Ch. 06 Top Male Reader x Male Yandere Harem

Didn't know what to do with the chapter- but another one down and some sprinkled past trauma- yes M/N is 28 all characters are late twenties or early thirties.

Also I took yesterday a day off of writing from almost two weeks going strong with writing- and thanks for 500 followers <3 I don't know if I should make a special thing but first I'll probably redo my request page TvT

cw: Mention of past trauma, murder, usage of drugs followed by overdose. 1.4k words.

“The guy mentioned the Serpents, that he was loyal to them–” M/n felt how the honey brown eyes of his partner seemed to burn a hole into the side of his face, most probably in shock, “What? The Serpents have something to do with the break ins in your apartment? That seems– dangerous…” Elias eyebrows furrowed, as he looked back at the road from the passenger seat, leaning back into the sun warmed leather. 

M/n only let out a grunt, “They’re not fond of the idea of me getting closer to their shady business– even if I’m most definitely sure they would get away scott free with this shitty system we have,” Both of them knew it was true, “If they suddenly say I resigned to a different station– don’t believe it, I’ll mostly be gutted like a fish in same shady underground warehouse–” Elias pulled a face of disgust, “But I’ll advise you to then lay low– I know you’re a good man– a little naive that you think that you simply can change this place without doing any harm…” M/n continued, before he stopped in front of the building of Alicia Wallace.

“But in this world– it’s not possible to achieve good without doing bad,” M/n mumbled before he got out of the car. Elias sat in the passenger seat for a little longer– the words of his partner echoing inside his head, making him unable to not glance at the man that just got out. Following suit, Elias rounded the car after getting out and closing the door, “Does that mean you’ve–” Elias didn’t continue his words, as if they were suddenly stuck in his throat, but M/n knew what he wanted to know.

“Yes I have– a few times… obviously not against any of these people we’re trying to protect– the ones that only have people outside of the corruption of these groups,” “But what if they were forced?” Elias mumbled, honey brown eyes laced with concern. “That thought crossed me once too– but if you were forced… you wouldn’t take someone’s life with a smile on your face,” M/n grunted as his e/c eyes landed on Elias. “It was pretty early in my life when I had to– realize it. It was in a cruel way too– I lived with a happy family, a mother, a father and two siblings, a sister and a brother,” M/n glanced at the house in front of them– it looked perfectly cut out of a story. 

But slowly it turned into a different one– the paint and layout slowly changed, into the house he lived in as a child. The facade was beautiful– just like the one his family wore. “I’m the oldest of us three kids– I was basically the protector of my siblings and I liked to know with me they were safe,” M/n spoke- his arms crossed over his chest. “It was in the middle of spring in which everything seemed to turn worse for me and my family. I came home from school when I was twelve, I thought it would be a day like always– coming home, getting ready for lunch with my family, going out to play or study– just a normal life, but it was suddenly so far from that.” M/N grinded his teeth at the memories.

Elias looked at the detective, who looked so lost in thoughts that he didn’t know what to do so he simply continued to listen– slightly confused why the other even told him his story. “When I stepped into the house– the first thing I noticed was the smell– it was thick and disgustingly clinging to my tongue and nose, it was blood I had found out moments later– when I stepped into our dining room that was connected I found them, my mother, my siblings and my father,” a short heartbeat of silence, “Only one of them was alive– the other three laid dead on the floor– blood pooling underneath them while their empty eyes simply– started in a state of shock into nothing.” Clearing his throat from the feeling of the tightness that squeezed his throat, “You might wonder who it was– it was a surprise for even myself back then– my father. I still remember how– traumatized he looked even if he was the one to pull the trigger, after all he was the one with the gun in his hand,” 

There was a moment of silence between them, the fresh breeze sending a few shivers down Elias’ spine, additional to the story. “Well after he seemed to realize I was there– he only told me to call the police and I did– they took him with them he’s in a prison since– sixteen years now, since this unfortunate thing happened, I never visited him– it might be because I want to believe that he couldn’t have possibly done it– after all he basically worshipped the ground my mother walked on he loved us all dearly, they had disagreements of course everyone has– but they never fought, hell even got violent with each other was not a possibility,” M/n spoke, “That’s why I’m still doubting if he really was it– if he wasn’t just a pawn in a larger game. It came out after investigation that he indeed was in trouble because he stood with one foot in a syndicate,” E/c eyes met the honey brown ones, “It was always strange– of course he could’ve been acting and suddenly snapped but I never tried to get behind it, but what I did was get rid of the syndicate my father was associated to,” his hands clenched into fists.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Elias asked confused, which made the other raise an eyebrow, “Because while all of this happened there were news reporters who put all of it to freely read, if it was on paper or on the internet– ‘The L/N murder’ or whatever they called it back then–” “Isn’t your last name Howard?” Elias suddenly asked, which made a small chuckle ripple from M/n, “Well after I got sent away– and the rest of the relatives and reporters jumped onto the scandal like starving hyenas, I changed my name at that time I didn’t want to have any connections anymore that tied me to it– now all that’s tying me to them is my blood,” M/n muttered. 

Elias honey brown eyes were focused on his partner, before he silently nodded. “Let’s go in– maybe Alicia feels up for a few more questions,” the taller man spoke before he stalked up to the steps of the house, the other detective following him close behind. The H/c male was ready to knock on the white colored wooden door, when he noticed that the door wasn’t even fully closed. With a frown he pushed against the door, which opened with a scraping and squeaking. 

Both men drew their guns, before walking in with slow and silent steps. Their eyes scanned over the place in case of someone lurking and waiting with a weapon in their possession. But soon the only place they didn’t look in– after finding the house basically abandoned, was the bathroom. After they both stood in front of the door, Elias gave a nod towards the other who kicked the door harshly. 

Yet what they saw was– not what they thought.

Laying in the bathtub was Alicia, her eyes unresponsive, and as they walked closer M/n checked her pulse– none. Glancing at her wrist, he could only sigh. Small needle imprints. Said needle laid beside the bathtub, “Looks like an overdose,” Elias mumbled, before he sighed and took a few steps out of the bathroom calling for reinforcement, before stepping back in. “Everywhere we go death seems to have already taken root, huh?” M/n on the other hand didn’t respond immediately.

“She was the last one that could’ve been a resource to getting closer to the Serpents– they really are efficient in what they’re doing,” The detective grumbled, before he stepped out of the bathroom after hearing the nearing sirens.

“Looks like I have to take a different approach,” M/n mumbled to himself as he glared at nothing in particular.

After putting Elias up for informing the closest relatives of Alicia Wallace’s, M/n was glancing at the lit up screen of his phone from time to time. He was wearing a dark coat, button up shirt, a pair of good fitting pants in which he still could run and boots– just as he stopped outside of a club. 

He knew it was a place where he could either gain information– or simply have a hit put on his head.

[sweetromanova]

Off The Record: Part Five🖤

Natasha Romanoff x Criminal Defense Lawyer!Original Female Character

Summary: She’s built a career on keeping secrets and defending the worst with nothing to lose. That changed when Natasha Romanoff showed up on the other side of the courtroom.

Warnings: descriptions of violence, psychological manipulation, implied child abuse and trauma, emotional abuse, mentions of torture, human and sex trafficking, war crimes and murder, implied coercion, legal corruption, gun violence, secondary character deaths, power imbalance, blood and injury depiction

Chapter Five

Avengers Secondary Holding Facility, Upstate New York

March 28, 2022 

The corridors were mostly empty now, unusually quiet. Natasha leaned against the wall outside the briefing room, arms crossed, watching as Sienna packed up her things with methodical precision. She’d been working out of the compound for hours, likely deliberating with her client behind closed doors.

Sienna caught her gaze and held it. Neither spoke for a long beat.

Finally, Natasha broke the silence. “You don’t look like the kind of lawyer who loses sleep over her cases.”

Sienna shrugged, eyes steady. “I don’t. But I don’t underestimate them either.”

Natasha smirked. “Smart.”

Sienna’s expression softened just a fraction. “You think I’m just a hard ass.”

Natasha shook her head. “No. You’re better than that.”

The moment hung between them.

Then Sienna packed her briefcase with a sharp snap. “I’m just doing my job.”

“And I’m just trying to make sure you don’t screw it up for everyone else.”

Sienna’s smile was small but genuine. “We’re more alike than you think.”

Natasha stepped back, the faintest nod acknowledging the truth in that. “Maybe.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Common Room, The Avengers Compound, Upstate New York

March 28, 2022 

The coffee machine hissed in the background as Steve flipped through a report on the counter, glasses perched low on his nose. Wanda sat cross-legged on the sofa, scrolling slowly through Sienna’s legal history on a Stark-secured tablet. Tony, of course, was nursing a drink.

“She’s still here?” Sam asked, stepping in with a tired look and a sandwich he clearly regretted making.

“Left about twenty minutes ago.” Steve replied. “Walked out like she owned the place.”

“She kind of does.” Tony muttered. “Legally, anyway.”

Wanda looked up. “She’s tight. I went through her case files. She doesn’t flinch, like genuinely doesn’t care who she’s defending.”

“Doesn’t mean she approves of them.” Bucky shrugged, stretching his one human arm out.

Tony pointed a finger. “That’s the kicker, isn’t it? She’s detached. Cold-blooded in a courtroom but not chaotic. You’d think she’s been insane to do this but I’ve never seen someone more in control.”

Natasha walked in, letting the door swing shut behind her. She didn’t say anything at first, just grabbed a mug and poured herself a coffee. The group quieted slightly.

Sam glanced at her. “You good?”

She nodded and took a sip. “She’s sharp. Doesn’t waste words.”

Steve raised a brow. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.” Natasha said, curtly. “But she knows what she’s doing.”

Tony smirked. “Wow. I had ‘threaten to throw her out a window’ in the betting pool.”

“She’s not the enemy.” Natasha almost defended. “At least... not yet.”

Wanda tilted her head. “So you don’t hate her?”

Natasha didn’t answer right away, just stared into her cup for a second. “I don’t trust her. But I’m starting to believe she’s not stupid enough to be bought.”

Silence hung for a moment then Sam gave a low whistle, a smirk appearing on his face. “Well, damn. She must really be something.”

Tony raised his glass. “To terrifying lawyers who might actually be on our side.”

Natasha didn’t raise her mug.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Federal Tribunal Courtroom, Washington, D.C.

April 2, 2022 

The courtroom buzzed with whispered rumours on the fifth day of trial. Over an hour had passed since the hearing was scheduled to begin and yet Sienna’s seat remained conspicuously empty. Maksim, as usual, gave nothing away, waiting patiently, that irritating smirk still plastered on his face.

“Ms. Blake, I assume your dramatic entrance is imminent…” The judge said amused, folding his hands and addressing the empty chair. “Or did the defendant’s lawyer decide to send a substitute? Perhaps a hologram?” A few polite chuckles rippled through the room.

Just as the judge was about to continue, a SHIELD officer approached him quietly.

The judge’s expression shifted. “It appears Ms. Blake was the victim of an attempted break-in last night.” The officer said. “She was injured but is en-route.”

The judge nodded, voice now measured. “In that case, this session is postponed. Court will reconvene at a later date.”

Just then, the courtroom doors burst open. Sienna entered the room, her hair slightly tousled, a faint bruise visible near her left eye and a split lip carefully concealed by light makeup. She moved with the same determined stride as ever.

“Your Honour…” Sienna said, hurrying to her seat. “I apologise for my tardiness. I am fit to proceed.”

A hush fell over the room.

The judge studied Sienna for a long moment then nodded. “Ms Blake, are you sure-“

“I’m fine, really. I’m ready.”

“Very well, Ms. Blake. We will proceed.” The court began, the judge reeling off the schedule for the day while the Avengers watched the lawyer like a hawk. Sienna gave a curt nod and opened her briefcase, pulling out notes with practiced ease, despite the pain she clearly masked.

Natasha’s gaze softened just a touch and even Tony’s usual sarcasm died down. Sam leaned over quietly to address the others, just as Maria entered. “That’s… something else.”

Maria nodded. “Police report said she shot three men who tried breaking in. No idea why.”

“Seriously?”

“No one knows the motive. Three armed intruders, all neutralised by Sienna. She’s got more grit than anyone expected.”

“How the hell did she get the upper hand on three men?”

“Maybe they weren’t trying to kill her, maybe they wanted to make an example.” Natasha exchanged a look with Tony and Steve. “Guess she’s tougher than I gave her credit for.” Natasha said, quietly.

Throughout the day, Sienna was relentless, her arguments razor-sharp despite the physical toll she’d been through. The courtroom watched, a new layer of respect mingling with their wariness.

Every time the prosecution pushed, she countered with surgical precision. Her physical wounds seemed to fuel her fire rather than slow her down. The courtroom watched in silence, respect growing with every point she made.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Ladies Restroom, Federal Tribunal Courtroom, Washington, D.C.

April 2, 2022

Sienna locked the door behind her and leaned against the cold tile wall, closing her eyes as she pressed a cold gel pack to her swollen eye. The bruise throbbed but worse was the sting of exhaustion that wasn’t just physical.

The faint click of the door made her tense.

Natasha stepped inside quietly, her usual confident posture softened by something gentler, a rare vulnerability. Without a word, Natasha pulled a small tube from her jacket pocket, an advanced analgesic balm designed for quick relief and handed it to Sienna.

“For the pain.” Natasha said, voice low but sincere.

Sienna blinked, surprised then accepted it with a soft- “Thank you.” She tried to muster her usual defiant smirk but it faltered.

“You’re pushing too hard.”

Sienna straightened abruptly, trying to smooth the tension from her shoulders. “I don’t have a choice.”

Natasha shook her head. “You always have a choice. You’re not invincible. You don’t have to be.”

Sienna laughed bitterly, eyes still closed. “You think I don’t know that? People don’t hand you a break in this line of work.”

Natasha’s gaze softened, almost like she remembered herself in Sienna’s words. “I get it. The Red Room taught me that. To survive, you bury the pain, hide the cracks.”

Sienna’s eyes opened, searching Natasha’s face. “So what happens when you don’t?”

Natasha didn’t speak, she didn’t have too. “Sometimes I think all of this means nothing. No matter how hard I work there will never be justice, trials will never be ‘fair’.”

Natasha stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Don’t think like that. As much as I hate what you are doing. You’re fighting for yourself, for your integrity for the part of you that still believes justice matters.”

Sienna’s defence cracked, the fierce mask slipping away for a heartbeat. “I didn’t expect you to understand.”

“Don’t flatter me.” Natasha smirked, a hint of warmth breaking through. “You don’t have to pretend with me. We both know this isn’t easy.”

Sienna’s shoulders slumped just a bit, the weight she’d been carrying showing for the first time. “I’m used to fighting alone.” Sienna admitted, quietly. 

Natasha’s gaze softened. “Maybe that’s why you and I are so alike.”

For a long moment, they simply looked at each other, not enemies, not allies, just two women surviving their past and present.

“Thanks Natasha.” Sienna gave a small, genuine smile. “For checking in.”

Natasha nodded. “Anytime.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Conference Room, Federal Tribunal Courtroom, Washington, D.C.

April 2, 2022

Maksim sat across from Sienna at a small metal table, his posture loose and slouched, the very picture of indifference. One arm draped over the back of his chair, the other casually tapping a rhythm on the table’s edge. Too relaxed, far too casual, given what was at stake

Sienna didn’t exactly mirror his ease. Her shoulders were square, her hands folded neatly in front of her but her voice was even. “You know this isn’t about getting you off.” She said, quietly. “It’s about making sure you get a fair trial.”

Maksim’s mouth curled into a slow, deliberate smile. Not amused but entertained. “Fair?” He echoed, tasting the word like it was a joke. “That’s a luxury I never had before.” His gaze didn’t waver, just settled on her with a steady kind of pressure. “Funny, isn’t it? Now I get lawyers, process, appeals. All the bells and whistles.”

Sienna nodded once, leaning in slightly, her tone still calm but edged with quiet insistence. “Everybody deserves a fair trial.”

He studied her, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Deserve.” He repeated. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

There was a pause. Not long, but heavy. Sienna’s glanced at the cameras in the room, hoping he didn’t try his luck.

Then Maksim’s tone shifted, conversational but with a twist of venom. “You know, they sent her after me. Romanoff. Classic choice. All righteous fury in black leather and guilt. She almost smiled when she put me down. Almost.” He laughed under his breath. “I guess even Avengers like a bit of payback.”

Sienna’s expression didn’t change but something in her eyes flickered, just for a second.

Maksim caught it, of course. “Ah.” He said, softly. “Does she get under your skin too? She’s something else for sure. Wasted potential I call people like her. Imagine what she could do under the right supervision. You know what I mean… right?”

She didn’t answer, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Their eyes locked in a long, heavy moment. There was something uneasy about it like he understood more without her needing to say it. A mix of caution and familiarity and a space they were both forced into.

Maksim tilted his head, voice almost gentle now. “You’re a good lawyer, Sienna. But you’re not here because I need you.” He let the words hang, watching her closely.

Sienna didn’t blink. “No.” She said, quietly. “And you’re here because you earned it.” 

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Outside of the Conference Room, Federal Tribunal Courtroom, Washington, D.C.

April 2, 2022

Natasha’s brow furrowed as she observed from a distance. There was something about the way Maksim spoke with Sienna. Too smooth, too comfortable. A subtle shift in his tone whenever she was near, like a hidden script only they knew.

She stepped closer, her instincts screaming warning. Whatever Sienna and Maksim shared, Natasha didn’t trust it.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Avengers Secondary Holding Facility, Upstate New York

April 2, 2022

Natasha paced slowly, arms crossed, her eyes sharp with frustration.

Tony looked up from his tablet, catching her mood. “What’s eating you?”

Natasha stopped, exhaling deeply. “It’s Maksim Vasiliev. The way he talks to Sienna… it’s not just the usual client-lawyer stuff. There’s something darker.”

Sam frowned. “You think Sienna’s in over her head?”

Natasha shook her head. “It’s more complicated. Sienna’s good, too good to be rattled easily. But there’s tension between them I can’t ignore. It’s almost personal…”

Maria nodded, folding her arms. “We’ve seen people underestimate Maksim before. We can’t let our guard down.”

Tony sighed. “Guess this trial just got a whole lot messier.”

Natasha’s eyes hardened but her tone was soft. “Exactly. And if Sienna’s keeping secrets, we need to find out what. Maybe for her sake, more than our own.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The room was quieter than usual, all of the group sat around in silence awaiting her arrival.

Sienna entered, a fresh bruise now purpling along her jawline. She carried her briefcase like armour, every step precise. Her presence still held authority but the usual fire in her walk had dimmed, just slightly.

She paused as she noticed the room fall silent. Maria stood. “Thanks for coming.”

Sienna gave a curt nod. “Of course. I assume this is about updated security protocols?”

“Partly.” Sam said, folding his arms, voice softer than usual. “Also… how’re you holding up?”

Sienna blinked, clearly not expecting that. “I’m… fine.” She said, defaulting to professionalism.

Tony looked up from the monitor. “Your car exploded, your apartment was raided, you shot 3 men in cold blood that wanted to do god only knows what with you and then you walked into court like it was a Tuesday. Forgive us if we think ‘fine’ is underselling it.”

Sienna allowed herself a quiet breath, something close to amusement flickering in her eyes. “I’ve had worse Tuesdays.”

That got a small chuckle from Sam, even a brief grin from Steve. Natasha leaned against the wall, arms folded.

“You need backup.” She said finally, voice level. “We can post SHIELD agents until this blows over.”

Sienna hesitated, just for a beat too long. “I can handle myself.”

“You can and you did.” Natasha replied. “But that doesn’t mean you should have to.”

Sienna’s gaze flicked up to hers, searching her face. Natasha didn’t blink. It wasn’t kindness, not exactly. But it wasn’t hostility anymore either.

Something more complex was starting to take root.

Sam added, gently. “You were targeted. That makes this bigger than the case now.”

Sienna tilted her head. “So The Avengers, who I’m openly fighting against, are offering me additional security?”

Tony gestured to Maria, who had just entered. “Not just us.”

Maria nodded, a tablet in hand. “NYPD has issued a directive. You’re being moved to a secure location by morning. Full SHIELD clearance. You’ll be protected around the clock.”

Sienna gave a dry, incredulous laugh and shook her head. “Police security? No offence, but if someone really wants me dead, your safe house won’t stop them. Nothing will.”

The room went still.

Sienna hadn’t said it with bravado. Just certainty.

Natasha stepped forward, arms still folded. Her tone, flat but sharp beneath. “That’s a curious thing to say.”

Sienna’s jaw tightened. Natasha continued, stepping in closer. “You talk like someone who knows how this kind of thing works. Not someone who read it in a brief or saw it on the news.”

Sienna didn’t answer right away.

Tony straightened, eyeing the tension. “You’ve got enemies, Blake. The kind most lawyers don’t.”

Sam added, cautiously. “You’re acting like this isn’t your first time being hunted.”

Sienna shrugged, trying to keep her composure. “If I told you I’ve had years of stalkers, threats, and clients with grudges, would that explain it?”

Natasha’s eyes didn’t waver. “No. But it’s a good lie.” Silence.

Maria watched the exchange carefully. “Regardless, SHIELD’s not giving you a choice. You’re being moved. I suggest you pack light.”

Sienna exhaled slowly, resigned. “Fine. But I want full access to my case files and unrestricted contact with my client.”

Natasha stepped back but her eyes lingered. Maria gave Sienna a curt nod. “You’ll have what you need. Within limits.”

As the team began to disperse, Natasha hesitated at the door. Sienna caught the glance and held it. “Just one thing, Natasha.” Sienna said, her voice low, calm. “Can you stop watching me like you think I’m hiding something?”

Natasha’s reply was just as quiet. “Aren’t you?”

Sienna smiled, not warm or friendly. Just the faintest curve of amusement or maybe warning. “Aren’t we all?”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Undisclosed SHIELD Safe House, Upstate New York

April 2, 2022

The town car pulled up to the curb, headlights dimmed. Sienna stepped out with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, her heels softer than usual against the concrete. She looked up at the modest brownstone-style building then to the single figure leaning casually against the doorframe.

Natasha Romanoff.

Sienna paused, arching an eyebrow as she approached. “You know, lurking at my safe house might be a breach of protocol.” She said, with a small smirk. “Considering you’re actively trying to put my client away.”

Natasha straightened, arms crossed, the faintest smirk ghosting her lips. “Relax, I’m off-duty. Just wanted to see if you made it in one piece.”

Sienna let out a soft, dry laugh. “Oh, so now you care.”

Natasha’s eyes flicked to the forming bruise at the edge of Sienna’s temple. “You look like someone who needs someone to.”

Sienna didn’t reply. She keyed open the door and they both stepped inside. It was simple, all sterile walls, sparse furniture, a desk already stocked with court files delivered in advance. Security cameras in every corner.

Natasha wandered further in, noting the way Sienna’s presence barely filled the space. She wasn’t settling in. She was surviving.

“You’re young.” Natasha said, suddenly, eyeing every corner of the apartment, like she didn’t trust the agents to do it properly, to keep Sienna safe.

Sienna glanced back. “That’s a risky opener.”

“I mean it.” Natasha said. “You’re smart, educated, talented, clearly. So why this? Why defend someone like him? You could write books, lead lectures, take on constitutional reform, congress, anything but you’re risking your life for war criminals.”

Sienna dropped her bag on the couch and sat beside it. 

For a second, her mask slipped. Her fingers gripped the bag strap tightly, giving her something to focus on. “Everyone deserves a defense.”

“That’s a technical answer. I’ve heard it enough times from you.” Natasha replied, evenly. “But it’s not the truth.”

Sienna looked up, her eyes tired but defiant. “I’m not here to justify my life to you, Romanoff.”

“No.” Natasha said, stepping closer, her voice lowering, “But you’re here hiding from something.”

Sienna looked away, her jaw tense.

Natasha’s tone softened. “If you’re in something… something you don’t want to be in anymore, I can help you, Sienna.”

Sienna blinked, visibly taken aback. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I told you, I’ve been there.” Natasha replied, gaze unwavering. “Because I know what it’s like to pretend you’re on the right side of something, just to survive.”

Sienna didn’t answer right away.

“I appreciate the offer.” She said, quiet but steady. “Really. But I’ll be fine.”

Natasha lingered a moment longer, then nodded once. “Door stays locked.”

And with that, she turned and walked out into the night, leaving Sienna alone.

[xxnghtclls]

Permission Masterpost

True Form Sukuna x Reader | NSFW/Explicit | Slowburn

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence

Summary: After Sukuna destroyed your Village, you’re on your way to find a new purpose of your life in his shrine. How will serving the King of Curses play out for you?

Tags: True form Sukuna, Sukuna Has Two Dickies, Sukuna's Extra Mouths, Sukuna is His Own Warning, Corn With Plot, Corn with Feelings, Slow Burn, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Voyeurism, Toxic Relationship, Corruption, dark content, Angst, Graphic Description of Corpses, Graphic Description of Battle, Codependency, Torture, Death, Possessive Sukuna, Slow Romance, Emotional Hurt, Soft Sukuna , Fluff, Way More Fluff Than I Intended, is this a threesome?, Body Worship, DP, Loss of Virginity, Cvm, Oral Sx, Rough Sx, Choking, Masturbation, Spit As Lube, Monsterfvcking, Creampie, Sukuna's Tummy Mouth, Drunken Flirting, Vomiting, Size Difference, Jealous Sukuna, Slice of Life with True Form Sukuna, True Form Sukuna is my King, Every character is an adult in this story please stop asking me

Read on AO3

Chapter Overview under the cut

Chapter 1 - Prologue

Chapter 2 - The Path To A New Beginning

Chapter 3 - A Bloody Incident

Chapter 4 - The Sounds Of Sex

Chapter 5 - Red Orbs In Blue Moonlight

Chapter 6 - The Taste Of Devotion

Chapter 7 - A Chaste Kiss

Chapter 8 - Impatient Little Kitten

Chapter 9 - Yours

Chapter 10 - Monster

Chapter 11 - Hunger

Chapter 12 - Rippling Water

Chapter 13 - Today’s Arrival

Chapter 14 - The Visit

Chapter 15 - Don’t Look Back

Chapter 16 - Dance With The Devil

Chapter 17 - Darkness Keeps A Lot Of Things

Chapter 18 - A Curse

Chapter 19 - Play Of Adrenaline

Chapter 20 - Drink

Chapter 21 - Only You

Chapter 22 - The Reminder

Chapter 23 - A Wish

Chapter 24 - Your Place

Chapter 25 - Eyes On You

Chapter 26 - A String

Chapter 27 - Heartache

Chapter 28 - His Name On Your Mind

Chapter 29 - Sounds Of War

Chapter 30 - The Embrace

Chapter 31 - Someone Special

Chapter 32 - Fireworks

Chapter 33 - The Chosen One

Chapter 34 - Apples And Fingers

Chapter 35 - A Certain Desire

Chapter 36 - Confession

Chapter 37 - Nourishment

Chapter 38 - Dessert

Chapter 39 - Manners

Chapter 40 - Ready For War

Chapter 41 - Stains

Chapter 42 - Lovely

Chapter 43 - Atonement

Chapter 44 - Rain

Chapter 45 - Abyss

Chapter 46 - Judgement Day

Chapter 47 - Mine

Chapter 48 - Epilogue

_

Permission Playlist

Additional Chapters:

Harder

True Form Sukuna x Reader | NSFW/Explicit I One-Shot

Word count: 4,8k

Summary: During a cold winter night out in the forest, you ask Sukuna to warm you up. (Permission ending mention!)

Pond and Poetry

True Form Sukuna x Reader I Mature I One-Shot

Word count: 1,3k

Summary: Sukuna meets you in the garden, while you’re busy playing with Kois. And then you flirt. Just flirt.

[e11era]

Runeterra's Finest, a slow burn Jayvik AU fanfiction on AO3.

Ships: Jayce/Viktor, minor Caitlyn/Vi

AU: Superhero, set in Piltover/Zaun. Heavy focus on their League adjacent abilities, and magic.

Summary: Jayce Talis made his fortune with the Hexgates, but is now an indolent playboy, as corrupt and scheming as the rest of Piltover's elite; at least by day. By night he is the Defender of Tomorrow, using secret Hextech weaponry to strike back against the city's oppressors.

The Herald fights for the people of the Undercity every night, using strange rune magic to overwhelm the rampant crime. By day he is just Viktor, a wearied scientist running a medical clinic for those who cannot afford care.

The Defender and Herald are bitter enemies, only restrained by the thin truce between their cities. But when a class war begins to loom once again, the two are forced to work together to save both their respective homes.

Word Count: 120k (19/28 chapters)

New Chapter / Read from the start

Fan Art: The wonderful Nekta in a Hat on Twitter! Give them some love.

[zrreed]

Hey everyone! There's a Goodreads giveaway starting on November 28 for my new book, Leading Aegis, that will run until December 20, 2023! If you're in the US or Canada, enter to win a free paperback copy, and tell your friends so they have a chance too! Keep reading to find out what Leading Aegis is about!

You can read the first chapter for free on Patreon, and Leading Aegis will release January 1, 2024 on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, and Lulu as ebook, paperback, and hardcover. Pre-order your ebook today on Amazon or Barnes & Noble, or pre-order your paperback!

Leading Aegis: In a world where Captain Carolina Trace could’ve been an indentured worker, or a soldier for a corrupt government, she chose the freedom of piracy instead. But what the rest of the world doesn’t know is that she’s cursed, and bound to her ship, Omen, for all but a few hours at a time. When her most recent quest to break the curse puts her on a trajectory to cross paths with Ophelia, a fugitive doctor, and Wyatt, a Sovereign soldier, she might just have to reevaluate the things that are most important to her.

What is she willing to sacrifice for her freedom? And what is she willing to sacrifice when her freedom isn’t the only thing at stake?

The cover art was done by the amazing @lesly-oh! Check out the full reveal on patreon!

As of January 1, 2024, I'm going to be publishing all future works as Z.R. Reed instead of Zoe Reed. If you're a Goodreads user, follow Z.R. Reed on there to keep up with my new stuff!

[ariestrxsh]

shy!sub!chris x exbabysitter!reader

˚₊ · »-♡→ content warning: smut, mommy kink, age gap (Chris is 22 & reader is 28), innocence corruption, virginity loss, size kink, oral (m & f!receiving)

˚₊ · »-♡→ summary: chris runs into his old childhood babysitter, and their innocent reunion takes a turn when the two can't deny the sexual tension between them.

If the age gap or the fact that the reader used to babysit Chris bothers you, then don't read this fic !

dividers by @/bernardsbendystraws

Baby Sitter

chapters: | 1 | 2 |

"I have your shirt, Chris. See? Can't even tell it had coffee on it," you remarked, handing over his white tee as you stood on his doorstep.

"Wow, that's amazing," Chris gasped, holding it up and searching for the remnants of the mocha he'd spilled down the front of it, but there was no evidence of it having happened at all. "Thanks!" Chris replied, tossing the shirt over his shoulder.

"Dishsoap and white vinegar," you casually mentioned. "Good to know," Chris responded, leaning up against the door frame. "Whatcha got there?" He motioned towards the brown, paper bag you had clutched in your arm.

"I got you a couple of apartment warming gifts!" You announced, pulling out a fancy bottle of avocado oil from it. He gave you an inquisitive look as you passed it off. "You cook with it," you giggled, sensing his confusion.

"Right," Chris replied, pointing the bottle at you as if you said the words that were sitting at the tip of his tongue. "Thank you!" He added. "That's not all," you relayed, grabbing another fancy bottle from your shopping bag.

"Oh, I know what to do with this one," he chuckled, taking the rosé from you. "Yeah, I got you a big bottle. So you could share it with someone if you wanted," you suggested, nibbling on your bottom lip and flickering your gaze between his eyes and his mouth. He shrugged his shoulder.

"I-I don't know who I would share it with," he admitted, holding a bottle in each hand as he read the label on the avocado oil. You jokingly looked around as if you were about to volunteer a stranger from off the street, and then finally said, "I'm free. Maybe we could split it over dinner."

"Oh. Cool. Yeah. I don't have anything to eat here, though," he continued staring at the label, still completely oblivious to the fact that you were hoping he'd invite you into his apartment.

"Don't worry, Chris. I remember my first apartment. You're probably mostly living off of ramen and takeout. I figured you might like a home-cooked meal," you replied, gesturing towards your paper bag.

"Oh, that's nice of you," he said, staring at you like a deer in the headlights. "So. Can I come in, baby?" You finally asked, cocking your head to the side and batting your lashes in his direction.

"Yes. Please. Of course," he eagerly nodded, finally stepping to the side to let you in. He silently kicked himself as he slowly realized that's what you'd been alluding to with your body language the whole time you'd been standing on his door step.

You didn't mind, though. You found his social awkwardness endearing.

You entered his apartment, placing the bag on his marble countertop. "Hey, you cleaned. It looks really nice in here," you observed, smiling in his direction as you started to take off your fur coat.

"Thanks for noticing," Chris nervously replied, his eyes dropping to the low neck line of your powder blue top and the short hem of your tight, black skirt.

"Is spaghetti still your favorite, baby?" You asked him, slinging your coat over the back of a chair and pulling out the contents of the brown paper bag.

"It is. I haven't had homemade spaghetti in such a long time," Chris responded, unable to conceal his excitement, a smile spreading across his lips.

You rummaged through his cabinets, retrieving a pot, filling it with water, and bringing it to a boil on the stove. "Would you grab us some glasses for the wine?" You requested from the blue-eyed boy.

"Will red solo cups work?" Chris asked, opening his cabinet. You laughed. "Look in the bag. I came prepared," you responded, uncorking the wine. He reached into the bag, revealing two neatly wrapped glasses.

"You thought of everything, didn't you?" He asked, placing them delicately on the counter side-by-side. "The only thing I forgot is a condom. But I don't mind if you don't mind," you leaned in, softly purring into his ear. Chris nearly fell to his knees at your words.

"I-I don't mind," he stammered, wiping his sweaty hands off on the front of his sweatpants. You smirked, pouring a big glass for each of you.

"You ever had rosé before?" You inquired, corking the bottle back up. "No, I've never had wine before," he admitted, swirling the pink liquid around in the clear glass. You held your glass up, and he followed your lead.

"To all the firsts you're going to experience tonight," you seductively said as your glass softly clinked against his. He swallowed hard, his palms beginning to sweat again. You took a swig of your wine while you held your gaze on Chris, waiting for his reaction.

He hesitantly took a drink, but he was pleasantly surprised when he did. "It's sweet," he commented, nodding his head in approval.

"You like it?" You asked. "I do, actually," he told you before taking another sip. "You shaved," you observed, running the back of your hand over his soft face.

"I did. You noticed," he quietly replied, reaching up and touching his flushed cheek as a smile spread across his lips. He loved how attentive you were, pointing out all the things that most people missed.

"You know, I've missed you these past few days. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," you admitted, taking his glass and setting it down on the counter next to yours. You placed your hand on his chest and leaned in to kiss his neck.

He bit back a moan, gently rolling his hips forward and pressing his erection against your hip. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you either," he returned the sentiment, his shakey hand wandering to the small of your back.

You bit down and gently sucked on his soft flesh right above his collarbone as he melted into you. "You know, I brought dessert, too," you told him, your voice taking on a suggestive tone.

"What did you bring?" He eagerly asked, trying to glimpse into your bag as you kissed his neck. "It's not in there, silly boy," you teased him, lightly tapping the tip of his nose with your finger. "Where is it?" He smirked at you.

"It's right.." you started to say, gently grabbing his wrist. "Here," you cooed, putting his hand up your skirt. You rested his palm on your heat, his fingers grazing your clit as his breath caught in his throat.

"You're not wearing any panties," he observed in a low whisper as he looked into your eyes, feeling the warmth radiating off of you. "Oops. I guess I forgot them," you smugly responded, your lips curling into a devious smile.

He started slowly running his middle finger up and down your slit. "It's getting so wet," he whimpered, his breath growing shallow.

"Are you excited to eat it?" You purred, running your manicured fingernails along his jawline. He nodded and dropped to his knees in front of you, leaning in to taste you, but you stopped him.

"No, baby. Not yet. You're gonna spoil your dinner," you taunted him, running your thumb softly along his jawline. "But I wanna eat my dessert now, mommy" he pleaded with you, staring up your skirt. You shook your head.

"Just one little taste.." he whispered, rubbing your clit in small circles. "Christopher Owen," you scolded him, lightly swatting him in the face and gently tightening your grip on his jaw. "Be a good boy and listen to mommy."

His desperate, blue eyes gazed back at yours, and he slowly nodded as he stood back up. He was completely under your spell.

He wiped some sweat from his brow with the back of his trembling hand and picked up his glass of wine, lifting it to his lips and taking a sip to distract himself. He felt the buzz coming on, but he couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or if it was all the blood rushing to his dick that was leaving him feeling lightheaded.

"You wanna know the trick to keeping your noodles from sticking together?" You asked him as you turned your attention back to the now boiling pot. He could barely focus on what you were saying over how hard you made him, so he just weakly nodded in response.

"Add salt to the water right before you put the pasta in," you replied, gathering all your seasonings. You added a few shakes of salt into the rumbling, hot water, and then you emptied the box of angel hair noodles into it.

"Then we wanna keep stirring it around every couple of minutes until it's soft enough to eat," you taught him, taking your wooden spoon and agitating the pot. All he could think about was how you weren't wearing any underwear beneath your short skirt.

"Here. Take this. You keep stirring while I prepare the meat," you directed him, your fingertips lightly brushing against his as you passed off the utensil to him. He felt a current of energy passing through his body as you grazed him, and you felt it, too.

He did as you said, stirring the pasta as you splashed a bit of avocado oil into the hot pan on the front left burner and started to brown the ground beef. You shook some salt, pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, and Italian seasoning into the meat and started cooking it.

His blue eyes fell to your figure as he wet his lips. He was almost certain you were going to try to sleep with him tonight, and while he was excited to finally lose his virginity, especially to you, he was nervous to lose it, especially to you.

His heart pounded in his ears, and thoughts raced through his mind, imagining how you'd taste, what you'd sound like, what you'd feel like.

"Did you hear me?" You asked, nudging him in the arm. "Huh?" He replied, realizing your lips had been moving the whole time, but he'd been too busy having dirty thoughts about you to register what you were saying.

You peered down at the tent in his sweats and smirked back up at him. "Whatcha thinking about?" You cooed as if you hadn't just teased him relentlessly while standing in his kitchen without any panties on.

He blushed and let out a laugh. "I'm sorry. I get hard so easily," Chris nervously apologized, nibbling on his lip and trying to hide his erection. "I don't mind," you smirked at him.

The two of you finished making food, made your plates, and sat down to eat. You teased him throughout dinner, running your foot up his leg and making flirtatious comments as you made eyes at him in the glow of the candlelight.

You poured yourself a second glass of wine and then another one. Before you knew it, you and Chris had nearly finished off the bottle, and the sexual tension between the two of you was growing.

"You don't mind if I stay the night here, do you? I've had a lot of wine," you asked him, slightly slurring your words as you twirled your noodles around your fork. "No, I don't mind at all," he replied nervously, taking the last bite of his spaghetti.

"You still get nightmares?" You wondered, taking a sip of your wine. He let out a small chuckle. "What's so funny?" You asked.

"I hate to break this to you, but I never really had an issue with nightmares, not since I was really little," he nervously confessed, fidgeting with the base of his glass.

"What? What about all those bad dreams you used to have when I babysat you?" You inquired, looking puzzled. "I was faking," he said, biting back a grin.

"Christopher," you replied sharply, glaring in his direction and slugging him in the arm. There was a bit of real anger behind your tone.

You'd spent many nights worrying about Chris and his bad dreams. So much to the point that it had cut into your own sleep on many occasions and caused issues in your relationship, which didn't matter in hindsight, considering how much an asshole your boyfriend at the time was.

Chris, on the other hand, loved how genuinely you cared for him, and the way you'd always drop everything to lull him back to sleep with your warm, inviting voice and the soft caress of your hand against his cheek.

You couldn't stay mad at him, though. In a lot of ways you found it endearing how much he wanted to be around you, but you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that an eleven-year-old had come up with such an elaborate scheme.

"I know, I know. I just wanted you in my bed," he smirked. "Naughty boy," you rolled your eyes. "Maybe I'll pretend to have one tonight, so you'll have to come to bed with me and help me back to sleep," he lustfully responded. "Yeah? I bet I know how to tire you out," you flirted back.

His cock strained at the cotton fabric of his pants as you stared into his eyes, wetting your lips and parting your legs to give Chris another glimpse at what you had between them. He nibbled on his bottom lip, his sparkling eyes traveling to your glistening folds.

"Can I eat my dessert now, mommy?" He sweetly asked, but you slammed your legs shut and gave him a mischevious look.

Now what? He thought to himself, wondering what hoop you were going to make him jump through next before giving him what he wanted.

"I want mine first," you snickered, kneeling down in front of him and tugging at his sweats. He swallowed hard, looking down at you wide-eyed, but he listened, lifting his hips and allowing you to pull them down just enough for his cock to spring out of them.

You could sense how tense and nervous he was, literally sitting on the edge of his seat and his breath growing shallow and irregular.

"You're so hard," you observed, wrapping your fingers around his thickness and stroking it up and down. "All for me?" You cooed, watching a bit of precum gather at his tip.

"Yes, mommy," Chris said in a gravelly whisper. "All for you," he eagerly nodded, waiting in anticipation for what you were about to do next.

You leaned in, planting a kiss on his swollen head and slurping up the clear liquid from his slit. His cock twitched in response. You felt his whole body relax beneath you.

He slowly sunk back into his chair as he gave himself over to the wonderful feeling of your tongue fluttering around on all his sensitive nerve endings. "No one's ever done that to me before," he admitted in a timid voice as you wrapped your lips around his swollen tip and gently suckled on it.

"You like it, don't you?" You cooed before licking a long stripe from the base of his shaft all the way up his length and slipping him back into your mouth again.

"Mhmm," he whined, nodding as his hands found their way to your shoulders. He gently dug his fingernails into your back as you combined the two techniques, swirling your tongue around on his tip while you created a bit of suction.

He had always fantasized about getting head, but he didn't know it could feel this magical. He adored every subtle motion as you learned what he liked best.

His hand tenderly grazed the back of your head as he silently encouraged you to take more of him. You smirked, sliding down his length, feeling every vein with your tongue and swallowing him inch-by-inch until your nose was pressed up against his lower abdomen.

"Oh, yes. Just like that mommy," Chris pathetically whimpered as you hummed against the base of his cock. He slid down further into his chair, his eyes locked on the way your lips stretched around him.

You started bobbing your head up and down, eliciting a few soft gagging noises from you. The sound of you lightly choking on his dick drove Chris crazy.

He brushed a stray hair out of your face and placed both his hands on your ears as he tossed his head back and let out a strangled moan. He lifted his hips, driving his cock further into your throat. You could feel him quivering against your tongue as you slid back up his length, pulling your mouth off of him with a pop.

His lips curled into a smile as he peered back down at you. "Mommy. I was so close," he whimpered, his chest rising and falling with his labored breath.

"I know, pretty boy, but we gotta clean the kitchen before you can cum," you taunted him, climbing to your feet.

He licked his pouty lips as he let out a defeated sigh and pulled his sweats back on over his hard cock. He followed you to the kitchen, dragging his feet and silently throwing a fit about not being able to finish.

You put away the leftovers while Chris did the dishes, the whole time his cock aching at the absence of your mouth.

His erection was pinned between his stomach and the lip of the counter, and as he squeezed the excess water out of the sponge, he found himself rutting his hips forward and gently grinding against the marble finish.

You hoisted yourself up onto the countertop beside him and whispered in his ear, "Easy. You better not cum in your pants or mommy's gonna be really mad at you."

A pained whine drifted to your ears as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded. He went back to the dishes, trying to ignore his raging boner and trying to keep himself from rubbing up against the furniture like a dog in heat.

As he finished up drying off the last plate, you hiked up your skirt and flashed him your pussy again. His eyes widened, and his tongue darted out and slithered over his lips.

"Please, mommy. Can I have my dessert now?" He begged you, his voice saturated with lust and his eyebrows furrowed together in a look of desperation. "Yes, pretty boy. Come eat it," you nodded, spreading your labia open with two of your fingers.

He kneeled down in front of you, nervously leaning in to close the distance between his mouth and your cunt. You felt his warm breath first and the tickle of his smooth cheek grazing the inside of your thigh. He planted a delicate kiss on your pussy, causing you to grip his soft hair and gently tug on it.

He moaned against your sensitive bundle of nerves before gripping your legs and pulling you closer to him. Your mouth curled into a smile as he placed his hands on the insides of your thighs, pushing them as far apart as they could go. He gently nuzzled your clit before his pretty blue eyes flicked backed up at you, silently asking for your validation.

"Good boy. You're doing a perfect job. You're a natural," you praised him, running your fingers through his brown locks. That was all he needed to boost his confidence.

His kisses became more deliberate and more passionate as he drooled all over your cunt, periodically slurping up the mixture of his saliva and your wetness. You squirmed and squealed beneath him, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs while he kissed, licked, and sucked on your sensitive area.

"Mommy, you taste so sweet," he complimented you, coming up for air for a moment. He lapped away, his tongue swirling around on your delicate folds as you started to tremble beneath him. "Chris.." you hissed, your body tightening.

Your head fell back against the wooden cabinet behind you as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He couldn't tell if he was wine drunk or pussy drunk, but a warm, fuzzy sensation overpowered him as he lost himself in you, forgetting the boundary between his mouth and your heat.

He almost couldn't believe that he was making you feel that good, but the way your body was reacting to him seemed genuine. A few loud moans fell from your lips as you shivered, finishing onto his velvet tongue.

"Wow," you whispered, panting as you tried to regain your composure. "Was that your first time eating pussy?" You asked him, still gently combing through his hair with your fingers. He peered up at you, timidly nodding.

"That was the best head I've ever gotten, Chris. Your tongue is every girl's dream," you giggled, reaching for the hem of Chris' shirt. He loved the way you showered him in compliments. "Please. Take this off, and put your big cock in me."

"Big?" He whispered, looking into your eyes. "What? Does that surprise you, baby? That you're big?" You asked him, helping him take off his shirt. He slowly nodded, pulling his dick back out of his sweats and peering down at it as he lined it up with your entrance.

"You gotta be gentle with me at first because of how big it is, okay?" You cooed, biting back a smirk. You knew you could handle it, but you knew your words were like music to his ears.

"Okay," he replied, gently tapping it against your clit before slipping the tip into your hole. It felt better than he ever could have imagined. He gingerly rocked his hips back and forth, allowing you to get used to his size as he firmly placed his hands on your hips.

His jaw fell slack, and a look of pleasure seeped into his expression. It took everything in him to go slow and gentle, trying so hard not to get carried away. A couple faint whines unfurled from your lips, and Chris immediately stopped, glancing up at you.

"Are you okay? Am I hurting you?" He sweetly asked, concerned that the noises you were making were out of pain. "No, baby. I'm making those sounds because it feels really good. Go deeper," you whispered, tenderly cradling his face.

"Yes, mommy," he whimpered, fucking you a little deeper and a little faster. He leaned in to kiss you, your lips locking with his as you pushed your tongue into his mouth. His shaky hand slid up the hem of your shirt, and he gently squeezed your breast, noting to himself that you also hadn't worn a bra.

The soft clicking sounds of your mouth filled the space between you. You could taste the rosé mixed with the flavor of your pussy on his tongue as you pulled him deeper into the kiss. He felt completely intoxicated - drunk off of the wine and drunk off of you.

Once he pulled back, his eyes wandered between your legs. He took in the lovely sight of your pussy expanding around his girth.

"Harder, baby. Fuck me harder," you ordered him, resting your hand on his chest and feeling his sped up heart rate. You heard his breath quicken as he picked up the pace.

He pushed up your pretty, blue top, exposing your tits. He was immediately enamored with them, gently pinching your nipples between his fingers and listening to the pretty sounds that left your mouth as he played with you.

"Suck on them, baby," you directed him, and he nodded, leaning in to take each one into his mouth as he squeezed each one in each hand.

"Such a good boy," you purred, petting the back of his head and massaging his scalp with your manicured nails. He whimpered against your breast, the vibration sending pleasure through your nipple and causing you to clench around his cock.

"Faster, Chris. Faster," you demanded, feeling yourself getting closer and closer. "Fuck," Chris muttered, stopping abruptly. You felt his cock pulsating inside of you. He was afraid if he moved at all, it would send him over the edge before he could finish you off.

"What's the matter, baby? Hmm? Why'd you stop?" You cooed, cradling his head and pushing his face into your breasts. "So close, mommy," he whimpered, holding his body still and using every last ounce of willpower to keep from drilling into you and letting his orgasm run its course.

"Fuck. I can't," he whined, pulling out of you and waiting for the feeling to subside. "It's okay, baby. Yes, you can. Take a breather," you encouraged him, placing a hand on either side of his head with his nose just inches from yours as you peered into his beautiful, blue eyes. He nodded, taking a few deep breaths.

After a few moments of fending off his climax, he slid it back in, letting it go in all the way before pulling out again. He watched in awe at the way you stretched so perfectly around him as he plunged into you with his thick cock over and over again.

"I wanna turn you around so bad," he whispered, peering into your eyes as he pulled out again. You hoisted yourself off of the counter, spinning around, and propping your leg up on the edge of the marble cuntertop.

"Give it to me, pretty boy. Fuck me as hard and as fast as you can," you instructed him. "Yes, mommy," he answered, pushing up your tight skirt and slipping his length into your cunt from the back. He loved being told what to do by you.

"Good boy," you moaned as he started pistoning his hips forward, driving his cock deep into your drooling pussy as he reached around and grabbed a handful of your breast.

You could feel his hot breath against your ear and hear his pretty moans as he fucked you with all his strength. "Oh, Chris.. so big.. gonna cum.. gonna cum all over your big cock," you babbled as you shook violently.

Your orgasm hit your system, feeling like a series of explosions going off in your body. You tightly gripped the edge of the cool, marble counter as you clenched around him again, finishing all over his rod. Your juices flowed down the sides of his dick as he railed you, extracting your climax from you.

"Good boy. You made me cum all over it," you breathlessly whimpered, trying to catch your breath. A satisfied smile started in the corner of his lip as he realized he'd made you finish. "Fill me up, Chris," you demanded, letting your head fall back against his chest as he pounded into you.

He couldn't take it anymore. The feeling of your pussy convulsing around him and your words encouraging him to shoot his load inside of you, it was all too much.

He delivered a few more powerful thrusts, jerking his hips forward and triggering his own orgasm. His strokes slowed to a stop as he filled you to the brim, pumping you full of his liquid.

Pleasure coursed through him, leaving him feeling completely drained after, but in the best way, like he'd just finished running a marathon and had won first place.

He finally pulled out of you, nearly collapsing onto the floor and having to steady himself on the counter as all the blood rushed back to the rest of his body.

You spun back around, hoisting yourself back up onto the marble counter and spreading your legs and your puffy lips open for him again.

"Look at how much you came," you smirked, putting yourself on display for him as his thick, sticky fluid leaked from your cunt. He focused his blurry vision on the way it gushed out of you every time you clenched around nothing.

"Oh my god. It looks perfect," he responded, admiring the mess he made before slumping over and nestling his nose in the crook of your neck. A wave of embarrassment overcame him, wondering if he'd done a good job or if he was too awkward or shy about it all.

"Was I o-okay?" He nervously asked, his voice becoming small and shakey. "Chris. I can't feel my legs," you chuckled back in response. "Is th-that a good thing?" He timidly asked. "It's a great thing, Chris. You give the best dick. Best I've ever had in my life."

Your praises had blood rushing back to his cock, and it sprung to life once more.

"Oh, don't tell me that. You're gonna make me wanna give it to you again," Chris whispered as you felt his erection poking you in the thigh. You chuckled, surprised by his stamina.

"Give it to me again, baby. I promise. I can take it."

[wildgeese98]

Ok everyone buckle up, I've gone full brain rot and assigned TMA Fears to each Locked Tomb house. This was tricky and I'm not 100% on all of these but this is the best it's gonna be.

First - Exstinction

This one's kinda a no-brainer, you could honestly argue all the houses are extinction coded since they are what replaced humanity after it was destroyed.

Second - Hunt, Desolation

John uses the Cohort to hunt down and destroy the descendants of people he has a 10,000 year vendetta against. They also literally kill planets, wipe out populations, and cause widespread suffering and despair.

Third - Flesh, Corruption

Flesh for obvious reasons. The third seems to do bonkers, toxic relationships harder than anyone else and that's saying something in this universe. The Tridentari twins scream Corruption to me.

Fourth - Slaughter

The Fourth are the infantry, the cannon fodder. Marching eternally into battle in an endless war.

Fith - Web

There's a specific scene that made me associate the Fifth with the Web. It's the scene in HtN when Abigail and Magnus very subtlely and politely corner Harrow into reading one of the notes. It's in chapter 28 and it struck me as very web like.

Sixth - Eye

Amassing and cataloging Information, a tendency to pursue knowledge to a fault. Honestly, they're the nerd house and the nerds kind of have to be Eye.

Seventh - End, Stranger

Veneration and worship of death. Technically all necromancers are pretty End coded but the Seventh takes it to a new level. Also that beguiling corpse business is some Stranger shit for sure.

Eighth - Spiral, Vast

Spiral was really hard to place. It ended up here for the absolute mind fuck it must be to have your soul tossed out of your body while being siphoned. Vast is also kinda shoehorned in here because I couldn't fit it anywhere else. I guess you could say complete devotion to a religious moral code is sort of affirming your personal insignificance in relation to something much larger than you. But I'm aware that's a stretch. Honestly idk if the Eighth really fits well with any of the Fears.

Ninth - Lonely, Dark, Buried

They are both physically isolated and ostracized from the rest of the houses by their reputation as a creepy cult. It is notably literally very dark on the Ninth but it is also a house dedicated to hiding the truth. Alecto is evidence of a terrible truth that John locked away in the deepest darkest hole possible. It's also all about that tomb, they exist to protect a grave. There's a lot more I could say about Harrow specifically being buried under guilt and expectation because of her conception but that would go on for a while.

I'd love to know people's thoughts on this! It was a fun exercise trying to match everything up.

[faeorecom]

I think it's time to clean up the chaos and make this comic a bit easier to follow instead of playing chase the pages!

Primarily taking place in 1268 DR, the comic begins with the events that lead to Astarion’s corruption as a magistrate and how he came to be a target of Cazador Szarr.

It’s been nine years since Astarion has traveled to Baldur’s Gate, stubborn and hopeful that this city would offer a new beginning from the oppressive rules of his family. Arriving with nothing more than the pack on his back and a meager amount of coin, it’s taken years to claw his way through the ranks and arrive at the cush seat of magistrate. Now that his dreams have been realized, and life is lush with any number of pleasures he could imagine, the truth behind how he gained his power has begun to unravel to everyone. Even himself.

Chapter 1: Available all together in one single post!

Chapter 2:

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My main art blog is @icephoenixcom which features both my less serious comic one-shots and other art.

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 29. karma's a bitch

chapter tags/warnings: manipulative! naoya. naoya's anger issues continue. infidelity/adultery. extremely strong language. corruption. mentions of physical violence. family drama.

word count: 3.2k

notes: my sixty-hour work weeks have been taking a huge toll on me, so i apologize for this incredibly slow update. the good news is that i cannot take this corporate america bullshit anymore and will resign in the next two months. thank you for being patient! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Naoya had never felt this humiliated in his entire life.

When people said karma was a bitch, he never thought that it would actually make its way back to him. While he was not the most righteous person in the world, he was the Zenin CEO, for god’s sake! He was the leader to a multi-billion dollar conglomerate, the heir of a centuries-old bloodline. 

Yet, here he was, charging back to his apartment like an irate animal.

He startled the lobby doormen upon his loud entry, and once he returned to his penthouse, he had to will every muscle in his body not to tear apart his abode in a rampage.

In his head, his encounter with Toji looped like a broken record, fueling his chagrin.

When Naoya sought to confront his cousin for the first time in months, he thought he had been prepared. He did not expect to end up digging himself into a deep hole surpassing the world's layers due to a judgment error—a slight miscalculation. 

Correction: this miscalculation was anything but 'slight' because he wildly underestimated what felt like everything. Now, he bore the consequences of his mistakes after inadvertently turning himself into a laughingstock. Because his ego was his hamartia, he had become a mere jester in a story where he was meant to be the sole hero, and thus his ill feelings burned hotter than the surface of the Sun.

As much as he hated to admit this, Naoya had been shortsighted. He should have known better. Just weeks ago, he saw a vision filled with saccharine promises of a happy, comfortable life as the most powerful man in Japan imbued with power and wealth. He had been confident—a hundred percent certain—that absolutely nothing could go wrong in the trajectory he worked hard to create. But, what the actual fuck just happened at the therapist's office?!

He did not expect his mistress to make a complete fool out of him. Her very existence was an anathema to him, and he hoped to never be in contact with that woman ever again. In hindsight, Naoya should have taken the hint a while ago. He had previously forgiven his cousin's ex-wife, dismissing her blissful but intentional ignorance. Mari had never been too keen on actual intellectual and corporate matters, for she took far more interest in the money and comfort that came with starting from the bottom and sleeping her way to the top. Despite that, Naoya trusted that she at least had half the mind to not publicly discuss their affair, only for him to be proven wrong in front of none other than...Toji Fushiguro.

"Fuck!" Naoya screamed into the void of his empty living room. His reality was a nightmare as he thought about his despised cousin again—the assured gleam in his viridescent eyes, the smug smirk that tugged across his lips. The imagery soured his mood beyond measure. "I'm going to fucking—"

He did not finish his sentence.

Instead, he kicked a nearby lamp in an angry bout, toppling the fixture over and sending tiny shards cascading across the floor accompanied by the dull thud of the shade. Whatever. His housekeeper tomorrow morning would come in and clean that. 

What he instead focused on was how he had never been this infuriated, this belittled, this undignified.

The entire apartment echoed with Naoya's loud huff.

'About ‘your wife’ or whatever you want to deem her, there is not a single chance in hell that she’d ever think about calling you her husband anymore.' These words from Toji affected him more than he would have liked.

What did he mean?

That bastard is bluffing, the blonde had to tell himself, yet even he could not believe in his own consolation.

He needed to do something about this. 

No, no, Naoya wasn’t scared.

He couldn’t possibly be, right?!

Yet, after he could feel his ears begin to cool and breathing start to re-regulate, he stared at the emptiness in his halls as he came to the realization that had no better choice but to talk to you.

You didn't want to be here.

The moment you read Naoya Zenin's text to meet up for a 'quick chat' at the café near his office, you already knew that the upcoming conversation was going to be anything but 'quick.' The last thing you wished to do was to be in the same vicinity as that very man again.

After spending the last few days at your family residence, you had been showered with warm attention from aunts, uncles, cousins, and even house attendants who—despite naturally wondering the reason behind your stay—welcomed your visit with open arms. To your relatives' many inquiries, you forged a pretense that all was well even if all was not. (Besides, all did seem well in your family estate, away from the incessant pandemonium that was the Tokyo city center.)

While you knew that this peaceful break was not meant to last forever, you did not anticipate returning to the capital just to sit with the Zenin CEO alone.

Naoya had specifically chosen a corner table in the Hong Kong-inspired establishment, distanced from potential eavesdroppers. He seemed to have been waiting for a while by the time you arrived, his right leg crossed over his left knee as he twiddled with his thumbs impatiently. Sprawled on the table were a freshly brewed pot of jasmine tea and a platter of warm custard pastries.

He remained quiet as you took the seat across from him, observing with a crease on his forehead and a knit to his brows.

Anyone could tell that the blonde was not the least bit happy.

"Giving me dirty looks is not going to get this conversation anywhere," you pointed out while helping yourself to a tart.

From your comment, the inverted slope on Naoya's lips twisted into a deeper frown. 

He did not understand where your annoyance came from. 

Fine, he never treated you nicely either, but he did not expect you to snap at him when the discussion had hardly begun. You offered him no greetings, and Naoya also took great offense at how you chose not to look at him as you talked.

Truth be told, your neglect reminded him of all the other upsetting things that he was dying to bring up, and your unpleasant attitude whittled away the little restraint he had left.

“You didn’t try to ask where I’ve been. Not one text or call. Guess it would not have mattered to you if I disappeared, huh?" he lashed out through gritted teeth. He hated being forgotten, hated being looked over, and hated how easy it was for him to prove you to be a neglectful and apathetic wife.

Which was why there was no better option than to cut him off.

“You ordered me to leave you alone, Naoya.” Only slightly did you turn your head to glance at him. Stirring sugar into your tea, you kept your attention otherwise on the nearby window and watched businesspeople scurrying about on the streets on their lunch breaks. "You can live without my attention since I'm not the only woman you have around. What happened to your lady friend? Hasn't she been entertaining you long before our marriage? I am sure she would love your company, so why not pay her an impromptu visit?”

From a slanting angle, you could tell that the transformation from your normally calm demeanor dismayed him. Naoya, not you, was typically the one to make snide comebacks, but he could not deny your latest comments. Evidently, he wanted you to go back to your submissive and passive self, but that was precisely what you no longer could be for him.

His silence prompted you to reach into your purse and retrieve a thick manila envelope, and you presented the package on the table.

Naoya's gaze snapped to the parcel. 

He was curious, but cautiously so. He had invited you here, expecting to control the narrative, to dictate the terms. As a result, your unexpected move threw him off balance. 

"What...?"

“Take a look and find out for yourself.”

A puzzled Naoya demonstrated no hesitation.

He snatched the folder, tearing the top open and greedily grabbing the curated pieces inside. He stared for a long time at the first item: a photo. But he recognized the image of him and his mistress, boarding a private jet for their most recent trip to Mexico. Then, he flipped through the stack rapidly, barely registering each item before he turned to the next. Some were printed-out pictures and others were cutouts from news articles, but all featured him and his paramour. The confusion on Naoya's visage slowly morphed into aggravation, and when he finished his inspection, he forcefully threw the items back onto the table.

In the end, Naoya sat back and went still, not even blinking, thinking, or doing anything but pressing his tongue along his inner cheek. "How did you get these?"

No apologies. No remorse.

Hell, based on his response, the man could not even bother to deny your accusations, a telling sign of how little he could care for his relationship with you. Obviously, you must be a joke to him.

In one firm motion, you placed down your teacup.

"You're missing the point.”

While one's eyes may be the windows to the soul, Naoya's offered nothing in his current state. His pupils looked at—no, examined you in intense dark pools despite the iridescent glow from the lights above.

"Toji gave you these, didn't he?" Naoya continued with a disdainful laugh, himself insistent on getting answers to his own questions. "You can't find this shit on the internet anymore since I've had them all taken down. But Toji's fast. He has eyes everywhere, I know he does. Look at him. Months later, and he's still hung up on reclaiming a position he should've never had the right to in the first place!"

Thankfully, you didn’t flinch from his loud voice. What you did do was become more indifferent as if you were placing a wall to separate yourself from him, mentally bracing for his emotional maelstrom.

"You are missing the point," you said once more. This time, you shook your head in disappointment, and your tone was far more frustrated than the last. "Aren't you shameless?”

"Me? Shameless?!” His brows pinched closer from fury. "Take a look at yourself, woman! What did you do to get all this dirt from Toji and his henchmen, hm? Ha! Know what? I bet it’s because you're so willing to spread yourself for them,” he rambled with a nasty sneer plastered on his expression. At his comments, your jaw fell open before snapping shut as the meaning behind his words sank in. The way this man disregarded how he had an affair (that began many months ago!) only to redirect the spotlight onto you was repulsing, implying that the sole reason the therapists talked to you was that you had slept around. “A whore like you love taking all them all, don’t you? Well? Well? Am I right? Goddamn, you’re such a—”

The harsh scraping from your chair as you stood was what finally interrupted him. Unable to tolerate his vilification, you counteracted his anger with the venom in your rancorous glare. 

"How dare you talk about me like that!”

In the meantime, prying eyes started to turn in your direction from the commotion: teenage girls, sharing nervous glances across their table; a lone businessman, stopping mid-sip from his cappuccino; even the barista, pausing mid-grind such that her arm froze inches from the hopper.

"That man...doesn't he seem familiar?" a distant voice asked.

"Is he a celebrity or something?"

"No, wait. He's the person on the cover of last month's Fortune magazine. Naoya Zenin!" another replied.

"Isn't that lady his wife?"

While the onlookers' curious glances turned into full-on stares, their regard steeled your resolve rather than bothered you. Instead, you wanted the crowd to take in the spectacle. Corrupt tricks and dirty money had long painted the Zenin heir as 'the most perfect man in Japan,' and the public deserved to understand the fraudulence and cruelty that underlaid his facade.

"For months, I trusted you. I respected you. I put aside the harrowing loneliness weighing on my heart all because I tried to understand you. You told me that finding the time or energy for our marriage was not easy because board meetings kept you late in the office or business meetings required you to spend several nights abroad. Fine! So, I had been patient. But," and your voice overflowed from anger as you pointed a shaking finger at the pictures on the table, "Taking another woman to Michelin restaurants for dinners? Spending nights with her at Ritz-Carltons and Four Seasons? Going on entire vacations with her across the Pacific? All while you had a wife at home? Are you out of your fucking mind ?!" 

The man's nose flared with deep-seated rage, his eyes mirroring the same bitterness in yours. "At the end of the day," he began sternly, "we're still married."

Ridiculous.

“On paper, ” you had to clarify. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be cheating on me with your older cousin's ex-wife."

Immediately, louder murmurs rippled through the crowd. Naoya turned stiff, uncomfortable with the attention. So much for selecting a quiet corner in the café. He wasn’t stupid enough to sense that he had to be careful. Saying one wrong phrase would condemn him to a public meltdown. 

However, you were already steps ahead of him when you loudly declared: “I’m filing for a divorce.” 

That caught him off guard.

Your announcement even drew audible astonishment from bystanders as they stopped their meals, turning to each other and drawing out their phones.

In literal milliseconds, the vexation once riddling Naoya's demeanor shifted into denial.

“No. We’re not going to talk about a fucking divorce right now. We’re going to fix what we have, and you’re going to come back to me. We’re...We're married for a reason, and we’re going to keep with it!”

"That's a bullshit reason,” you had to snap. “Listen to yourself. Do you hear how selfish you sound!?" At this point, nothing could hide your bafflement. "Naoya, you were the one who said that if I wanted to leave this marriage badly, then I should leave. Ask Mai and Maki! They heard the entire conversation. Didn't you also say that you didn't give a fuck anymore?"

The man attempted to salvage some semblance of control. "I was just joking!"

"No, you were not." Picking up a photo of Naoya and Mari together, you pressed the picture to his face. “How much more can I take? How many days would I still have to go through alone in the penthouse, all because you would be spending your sweet time with the woman that you love?”

Unloading all this emotional baggage, not only for Naoya Zenin but also for the café spectators to hear, took courage. Previously, you would have let the burden gnaw at your soul. You would have rather wallowed in suffering rather than even think about speaking up.

But the past was the past, and you had grown immensely since then. Currently, you were stronger, more confident. You knew that, in Toji's words, you deserved better. Life was too beautiful to waste on a man who did not love or respect you and, with that in mind, you relaxed your clenched fists with an exhausted and fatigued sigh. 

You broke me first, you said through a deserted gaze. 

Naoya Zenin was the reason why you had become the way you were: a cold, seemingly heartless wife who cared none for her husband. The misery that he placed on your shoulders finally reached its limit, and while you could forgive, forgetting the memories in your scarred heart would be a task over months, years, and even a lifetime. 

“Listen,” you began, tone terse, “this divorce will set you free. Mari is the person whom you need—”

“The hell. No!” the man interrupted in a violent outburst, taking your breath away as he slammed the table and hissed. “I don't give a damn about her right now! We’re…We’re over!" he snarled with incredible anger such that he almost appeared to growl. "I don’t need her, I need you! That...That whore doesn't give a flying fuck about my shit! All she cares about is...is...Fuck this. All she wants is the money. Why else do you think she married and then later divorced Toji? She doesn't want to hear about all the shit in my family because she had not been brought up to deal with all the fuckin' drama in my household. She can't understand because, unlike you, she wasn't born with a silver spoon shoved down her goddamn throat!"

Quietly, you absorbed his words, stunned.

So this was how their relationship had been.

You had not expected him to reveal all these entrenched feelings willingly, but his concoction between reckless rage and sheer desperation had allowed him to spill the ugly side of this extramarital affair. Naoya could not afford to lose you, and not just because this marriage solidified the respect of those around him. While Mari offered him an outlet for physical indulgence, only you could offer the cornerstone to Naoya's mental and social fortitude.

“So you ‘need’ me now, but what happens when you find another reason to hate me again? What will you do if you don’t think I can fulfill the role you want me to have as your partner? Or if you wake up one day and suddenly want your cousin’s ex-wife again? Or if you meet another woman? Am I supposed to stand there again, and watch this all happen?" 

No answer.

The fact that he couldn't respond hurt.

"My decision is final. Looking back, I despised every single second married to you. In fact, I feel sorry for myself. The fact that I blindly put up with your manipulation, betrayal, and blame for all these months.” With your belongings collected, you prepared to leave. “You would be stupid to think you're the only one with options, you know.”

Only when you turned around did Naoya react, scrambling to his feet.

“What the fuck are you—”

In any other situation, he would have grabbed you, lunged at you, did everything in his power to stop you from going. Yet, given all the witnesses, all he could do was call you back like a helpless child, trying his best to not escalate the scene (although, at this point, even passerbys outside have stopped by the window to spectate).

"Hey!" Naoya called after you. “Hey! I’m still talking with you!”

Pathetic, really, to see him desperately beg for you to stay in his life.

There was a certain satisfaction in finally having the control at your fingertips. The feeling was empowering—electrifying, even—and you became so focused on the gratification that you barely registered Naoya's last question.

“Where are you going?”

At this point, you already stood by the exit.

“That’s not something that my soon-to-be ex-husband would need to know,” and you hardly gave him another glance as the door closed behind you. “Thank you for showing me everything I hope to never find in another man again."

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: Part of why this update took so long was because I wanted to have an encounter between Naoya and Y/N to showcase Y/N’s development, from someone who thoughtlessly defended her husband to someone who could stand up for herself (all while alone!). I envisioned this interaction many times, and I thought about different ways to approach the scene, the delivery, the dialogue, the choreography, etc. It took me a while to go for what I currently have. Thank you for reading!

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[detective-inspector-her]

A Heart Full of Hatred Part 2

24 - 49

Don't read unless you want odd unexplained spoilers

Chapter 24

The crime of blinking is unforgivable in Winter's eyes. Probably how China felt during the first book. Let the babies look at bees, Winter! Why would they try to catch them, they'd get stung! Winter's scary and not because of Valkyrie, couldn't be because she's unpleasant to be around or anything. WHY IS SHE SMILING OVER THAT Brazen is flip-flopping. I doubt Winter's going to WANT to stop Chorus with how she's been thinking though. Valkyrie just got the shit beat out of her, in her pjs, so Brazen isn't wrong. But also, I'm glad Winter has some faith left over from phase 2. I heart Mia. This was a better Winter chapter, she wasn't unbearable.

Chapter 25

Haha, Desmond is running and failing at it. Should I be concerned that her parents are being mentioned more frequently in phase 3? Desmond is wearing bad shorts and it's embarrassing his daughter. He isn't wearing underwear in spandex shorts. 'The daughter who speaks to us'. How the turn tables have tabled. I love Valkyrie and her parents. I love them dearly. Desmond is a good dad who knows when something is wrong. 'She was acting like she was traumatised'. Honey, how do I tell you this? She's crying. No, hon, seeking love from your parents isn't a mistake. God, this is hard. It answers the question of if Desmond and Melissa ever think about everything that happened. They do and they continue to. Fletcher is a disaster and I love him. Fletcher wants to wear a hat. Fletcher isn't allowed to call Skulduggery.

Chapter 26

Sorcerers are coping as best as they can. Again, it's very interesting. Why did Darquesse let them keep their memories of the events? Skulduggery don't talk for Valkyrie, we both know she feels for the guy. Efficient as it is, I hate when Skulduggery does this sort of interrogation, where he doesn't let anyone speak and exposes the story while the suspect breaks down. And this, this is a man's brother's death. It's not okay to do. Oh, the lawyer is a teleporter? Of friends with one at least. Ugh, Skulduggery had to sign that thing in AmFoM and get in the way of things. Valkyrie is a smart girl until paperwork is involved and I don't blame her, that'd take up all her free time. Skulduggery, you had a chance to change the laws, you're too corrupt to actually do it though, don't act all high and mighty I knew I liked Iota.

Chapter 27

Skulduggery can see in the dark. Skulduggery is an asshole to Fletcher. I hate this man. Fletcher spent all his money on a cloaking sphere that no one will use. I love them. Fletcher is acting British and Valkyrie is acting Irish. Sibling-Coded mother fuckers. This is a group I didn't see doing a mission together, but I appreciate it. Valkyrie's too muscular to be sneaky. Oh what in the bullshit. This mystery guy is correct, Valkyrie didn't ask to be born or to be Darquesse. What does this have to do with her being 17 though? She was fighting Argeddion and Mevolent at the time, so they maybe nearly crossed paths during KoTw but how? 'If Darquesse is the universe's mother then I'm it's father'. Fucking what? Valkyrie why are you nodding, who is this motherfucker?! Valkyrie is your child? Nah, she's the Daughter of Desmond Edgley asshole. This guy is fucking creepy, don't say you love her you weird pair of glowing eyes. Oh that was the guy- Arava. The Hidden God- Okay. Alright, makes sense with the whole 'Darquesse tricked him' Okay. Why did he talk like that, it's giving me au ideas.

Chapter 28

Val, the Arava wasn't trying to kill you. He was literally talking about how he loves you and you're his child. That's not going face-to-face. Glad Valkyrie is acknowledging that if she hadn't become friends with other people, if she hadn't left, she'd have been a machine who happens to run with Skulduggery. And there she goes, panic attack. I love Militsa, she's a godsend. THE FLETCHER, MILITSA AND VALKYRIE TRIO I DESIRED! OMG I LOVE THEM Oh god, Fletcher became friends with Handsome. Valkyrie wear the bracelet so you can remember Myosotis, this is getting annoying. For once, Fletcher is smarter than you. Well at least Ghastly is being friendly I guess. Do you think Fletcher was never the Last Teleporter? There were probably more in these Hidden Cities right? They want a country of Sorcerers? Please enlighten me on how that works. Ohh, these people are not very friendly. Even Militsa knows that Winter wouldn't hesitate to swear off Mortals. Ohh, the girls are fooling.

Chapter 29

Tanith having a chapter worries me. Something bad is going to happen I can feel it. Ha, China and Tanith met again. Nevermind, I love this chapter. Oh god, China mentioned Rapture. Oh, I hate this chapter.

Chapter 30

The girls fooled around Militsa is walking through the case with Valkyrie, interesting. Oh, Militsa knew Sable. Oh honey. Notice how Valkyrie skipped over the creepy bits with Arava when talking to Militsa? That's healthy and won't backfire. They're flirting. I don't like that Militsa is in this more either. This normally means they're going to die. And Valkyrie can't handle that right now. NO! MYOSOTIS!GOD DAMN IT, LET FLETCHER BE HAPPY PLEASE! She forgot Myosotis existed and left her body omg no. The recurring joke was a warning.

Chapter 31

I miss when the chapters had funny titles. I miss it because I don't know what's coming.

No, Winter, saving the day isn't what you do but considering running a terrorist group is coolo. Winter what the actual fuck. The Mortals being traumatised from Mevolent's rule doesn't make them less annoying. Would you like your parents more if they were like that. This is making me wonder what she'd have thought of Stephanie. Oh great, Brazen pulled the same trick as the First Wave. But on Winter. Who is not nearly as nice and amazing as Omen Darkly. I'm sure this will go over well. Okay, Winter is scared. I feel bad for being so mean now. Oh. The bad guy killed Brazen. The bad guy is going after Winter. Well shit.

Chapter 32

Mel and Val are flirting while China is making someone cry. Mel did you forget who Valkyrie is? If she wants to see her second dad, she'll see her second dad. Solomon can't hide. Mel wants to flirt more but Valkyrie is reciting 'Love in Paradise' in a less angry tone. Val and Mel are now best friends and talking about how they'd have died if they'd befriended each other as teenagers. Valkyrie didn't even have to fight this guy, everyone is that scared of her. Chorus Wild, you son of a bitch. You know, the Mortal-Resenting Sorcerers living on an island in peace? That's fine. That isn't defeat! Sorcerers in this ballroom are famous for a reason, Chorus, did you expect them to just leave? Militsa saved Valkyrie from being beaten to death!

Chapter 33

Winter hates adventures Oh shit, the Witch Mother had given the Cage with the Faceless Ones to Winter. I suppose it's reassuring that the Faceless Ones aren't sentient beings anymore, just power.

Chapter 34

Valkyrie regrets wearing heels, she's now fighting bare foot. Fletcher can't teleport reinforcements in. That's concerning. Tanith is being a badass. Valkyrie finally admits that Fletcher has good hair. Mr Glee is back. yippee. Valkyrie and Tanith have experience with Sanguine dumbass, they know when someone DOESN'T want to kill them. Valkyrie's bonding with the serial killer. Skulduggery interrupted Valkyrie's plot. Skulduggery learnt things about bombs and that's why he was missing. Tanith insisted on going alone instead of with Valkyrie, concerning.

Chapter 35

Valkyrie can't even do her aura vision properly anymore. Jesus, Aura vision hurts her. Valkyrie is thinking about dimensions. Valkyrie is thinking about toads and frogs. They found a bomb. But the bombs have to be deactivated one second apart.

Chapter 36

Tanith is cursing how efficient they are at their job. 'I already died once' Ghastly please! They found the bomb. The bombs have been deactivated. GHASTLY'S GONE

Chapter 37

Val is unarmoured and being shot at by terrorists. She's very cool. ValSkul tagteam! Valkyrie is very injured right now. Her clothes aren't protective. This guy's suit makes it so she can't see his aura apparently, so I'm guessing she does know him personally. Valkyrie is running barefoot, things sticking out of her feet and now she has glass shards in her. I respect this woman so much. Valkyrie's trap worked! 'She was a legend. She was Valkyrie Cain.' Please this suck a confidence boost from phase 2 and I love that for her. I hate it when Val wants to cry because she should never have a reason to cry anymore. Skulduggery let her rest. SKULDUGGERY GOING IN FOR THE KILL HOLY SHIT HE REALLY SAID 'DON'T ATTACK MY GIRL -PLATONIC AND THAT'S ALL IT'LL EVER BE- LIKE THAT YOU SON OF A

Chapter 38

They're having another competition again, to take down more bad guys. Once more. Valkyrie wants to make a 'Emotionally? I'm ruined' joke but she's in too much pain. Militsa's being a badass. Can we have a Val/Mel/Mil poly relationship please? Valkyrie is losing a lot of blood. Ghastly gonna be burned. Someone who hates Mortals saying 'I pray to Darquesse' feels so wrong and uncomfy. Poor Val, she has to deal with this shit every day. Oh damn. OH DAMN Oh, Cadaver's back.

Chapter 39

Winter saw Valkyrie hurt and realised her sister isn't an immortal being. Winter told the killer to burn in hell and he said nah and got up. Winter saving people's lives. Maybe I was a bit harsh. I apologise Winter, don't make me regret it. Winter is being stalked by the killer

Chapter 40

Valkyrie,heavily injured and barely on her feet, just went after a bad guy who tried to burn Ghastly. VALKYRIE NO Valkyrie is going to kill me. She doesn't want anyone worrying about her even if she can't breath. She wants to say she's fine so that it isn't as scary for everyone else. Okay, Valkyrie is being healed and Fletcher is angry because he can't teleport her away to save her. Valkyrie knows Winter is on the island. Big Sister Mode has been activated.

Chapter 41

Cadaver and Skulduggery are fighting together but it's explicitly mentioned it's in the centre of the stage that the two of them are fighting together. Probably nothing but whatever. Tanith the Mortals did what they did out of fear, we know this. Some of them probably did things that WERE for fun and year they do deserve it, but I doubt every single one of them deserves to be there. Mel hates it when Val is in trouble.

Chapter 42

Valkyrie is in a prison. Bad guy is chasing Winter and Valkyrie could tell because of her magic fizzling out. Militsa is here to help! And Iota. Valkyrie saw her sister and nearly sobbed. Someone save my heart, I can't take this. Winter is hugging her sister and equally relieved. Oh god now I feel terrible. They're gonna trap him.

Chapter 43

Valkyrie knows she knows this guy but doesn't know who it is. See, he died right? And it made him stronger. This is giving Book 1 Serpine vibes but that guy's a pathetic loser who couldn't do this much damage to Valkyrie. The trap isn't working. Skulduggery has dropped from the sky

Chapter 44

Skulduggery is teaching Winter how to banter and shit talk. She isn't taking to it like Valkyrie did. Winter tried to pull and Omen Darkly but Valkyrie has experience now and shut that shit down. OH SHIT SKULDUGGERY. Valkyrie grabbed Winter and sprinted away and now she's doing mental detective work. Let me try and guess this at the end of the chapter. Another is dead and the bad guy can pull his machete towards him. So he might be an elemental and his suit nulls magic. But I'm legitimately clueless.

Chapter 45

Valkyrie is so worried about Winter. Winter is so worried about Valkyrie. Winter is trying to avoid explaining that she got Omened. Yeah, Valkyrie, I'm glad you weren't that kind of teenager as well. OHMYGODWINTER. OHMYGODVALKYRIE Valkyrie had to leave Winter unattended to draw the bad guy away. Okay, that's fine. Militsa, Mel, Iota, save Winter.

Chapter 46

Oh he finally speaks. Meaning he thinks he's won. Interesting. GOD FUCKING DAMN IT YOU HAD TO MAKE THE BOYFRIEND JOKE DIDN'T YOU. FUCKING CAELAN. Skulduggery you lying bitch. 'A lot of bullets will kill a vampire my ass'. Hey what the fuck Darquesse, keep the devil under control will you. Oh great, Militsa's been threatened. He did say Winter was dead but I doubt that. Wouldn't make much sense. He's such an abusive groomer. Oh he ain't a vampire anymore. Cool cool cool. Can we call Dusk over, turn him and dunk him in water a few times again? Valkyrie realising that she had horrible taste. Oh wait he killed Fletcher's close to being new girlfriend. Oh this bitch. Love this whole conversation guys but I need Valkyrie to do some murdering for once. Oh good, we're fighting now.

Chapter 47

Winter is alive but only a little bit. Oh dear, she's looking at the cage. Winter I know it hurts but don't do it girl. Damn it

Chapter 48

Branch vs machete. Seems fair. Lol Caelan is so fucking weak without the suit Valkyrie has to heavily pretend that he is. Okay so Caelan isn't a Sorcerer and he isn't a vampire so he's effectively a Mortal wearing a fancy mask given by a God. Cool. Shit Valkyrie got hit with a machete and has no healing powers. Curse this dumb, stupid crystal. FLETCHER HAS AN AXE LET'S GO Lol Fletcher called him emo-boy. 'But being a vampire was the only thing that made him interesting.' Fletcher preach! Omg I love this man. I think Val might be falling for Fletcher just the slightest bit. He's beating the shit out of Caelan and she thinks that's awesome. Fletcher nearly got chopped in half! Fletcher has a handgun and just told Caelan that if he moves he'll get spanked. What is this chapter? Right. Right he can summon the machete. Of course. I'm calm. I'm so calm. Winter's here and she saw Fletcher and omg. I'm so alright. How the fuck am I going to right my fics ever again?! The sister tagteam I wanted but at what cost? Valkyrie is thinking about how good Fletcher was and how he was her family and hes and apparently his family abandoned him so I'm guessing there was a conversation they had in the background about that shit but omg. Fletcher's voice is the only think keeping her from killing Caelan, I think I'm going to need a week to recover from this. This is so much worse than Xena. Shut up Winter it isn't the time.

Chapter 49

I don't even care about these other sorcerers who died, none of them were as good as Fletcher Fucking Renn. Oh god, all those teleporters who were taught by him are going to be heartbroken. Cadaver and Valkyrie having a private conversation. You know I have the headcanon that he killed his version of Fletcher. That's a whole AU I have, the alternate future. Cadaver admitting he was wrong about Fletcher is my breaking point I think. Dear God where the fuck is Skulduggery? Why is Cadaver talking to Val and not her actual best friend? Cadaver doesn't trust Ghastly anymore, which is awful, but I understand as well. Because why would he trust Ghastly, who is falling into Cadaver's traps and plans? Valkyrie told Cadaver off for using the phrase 'praise Darquesse'. Amusing given that Darquesse is alive in his timeline. Militsa is here, finally. God, these poor girls. Fletcher's heart was cut in half apparently, amazing. He hopefully didn't feel pain. Can Darquesse from Cadaver's timeline come back and bring Fletcher back please? Winter is the Child of the Faceless Ones again and the fact that Cadaver is concerned is valid seeing as where he comes from. Mortal man yelling at an obviously traumatised teenager for staring at him. But knowing Winter, there's probably thought in her head worse than his. Winter knows the Mortal. Do we know a David Slott by chance? Slott went after Sorcerers while working in the Navy. Does Winter have the memories of the Faceless Ones? He worked for Department X. So wait, why is that name fine but Dimension X is stupid? Ohhh. Okay so Darquesse attempted to save her family from the trauma by erasing memories but it didn't fully work on Winter. Oh fuck, while Valkyrie was fighting away from her family, Department X found the Edgleys. Oh shit. THEY KILLED DESMOND! THEY KILLED MELISSA! Winter was killed when she was nine by this guy oh my fucking god. No wonder she hates Mortals. No wonder she's fucked up. No wonder she resents Valkyrie. Holy shit. Winter I am so sorry for being so harsh to you, dear fucking god. Valkyrie and Cadaver are trying to calm Winter down and I'm half and half. Valkyrie doesn't want to have to arrest her own sister. But Winter is fucking allowed in this case. Winter is telling Valkyrie about her resentment. Oh, Valkyrie's going to break, she can't handle anything else. Where the fuck is Skulduggery and Tanith? Okay, no, I know they're at the High Sanctuary, but now is not the time. Oh shit, Valkyrie just killed David Slott. Valkyrie just shouldered Winter's burden again. Fuck. I'm with her on this though. Valkyrie can get away with it, Winter would have been arrested. Like with the whole Faceless Ones thing, Valkyrie really isn't given much choice. Her life or her sister's. She's always trying to make up for what she did. Valkyrie was arrested, transported to Coldheart and is now stuck with Cadaver. Then the book ends. Amazing.

I will give an overview maybe in a few days. I need- I need something.

Okay bye

[whorediaries-09]

kinkotober masterlist

serving my whores with kinkotber. check out rules and regulations here.

i think you make me a maniac kink- angry sex (number 30 on the event chart) prompt- 'you want gentle? wrong fucking address.' (number 28 on the event chart) request by anon. sirius black x reader.

take another drag; kink- choking (number 12 on the event chart) prompt- n/a dealer!sirius black x reader

keep your body open, kink- breeding (number 6 on the event chart) prompt- 'let me cum in you. please, let me fuck my babies in you.' (number 7 on the event chart) request by anon. harry potter x reader

art deco kink- edging (number 5 on the event chart) prompt- 'keep your hands where they are. or do i need to tie them up?' (number 16 on the event chart) request by anon. sirius black x reader

slow down; kink- overstimulation (number 4 on the event chart) prompt - 'sorry what was that? i can't hear you over all the noises your pretty mouth is making.' (number 8 on the event chart) request by @eternallybipanicking rockstar!sirius black x reader.

too many nights; kink- toys (number 16 on the event chart) prompt- ' love it when you act all controlling like that knowing damn well I can leave you shaking under me.' (number 17 on the event chart) request by anon. james potter x reader.

the hills; kink- phone sex (number 32 on the event chart) prompt- use your words (number 12 on the event chart) request by anon. rockstar!sirius black x reader.

mount everest; kink- knifeplay (number 11 on the event chart) prompt- n/a dark!sirius black x reader

new romantics; kink- praise (number 8 on the event chart) prompt- 'you're so fucking hot.' (number 25 on the event chart) remus lupin x reader

oxytocin (series) prologue chapter one; wanna see what you can take chapter two; if you find it hard to swallow, i can loosen up your collar kinks- dubcon, bondage, corruption kink, breeding, oral, degradation. prompts- dark themes, religious imagery. (a few kinks and prompts haven't been listed on the event chart.) dark!sirius black x virgin!reader

love's full of fire kink- dacryphilia (number 3 on the event chart) prompt- n/a sirius black x reader

fall from grace; kink- voyeurism (number 2 on the event chart) prompt- n/a groupie!sirius black x rockstar!reader

[sweetromanova]

Off The Record: Part Four🖤

Natasha Romanoff x Criminal Defense Lawyer!Original Female Character

Summary: She’s built a career on keeping secrets and defending the worst with nothing to lose. That changed when Natasha Romanoff showed up on the other side of the courtroom.

Warnings: descriptions of violence, psychological manipulation, implied child abuse and trauma, emotional abuse, mentions of torture, human and sex trafficking, war crimes and murder, implied coercion, legal corruption, gun violence, secondary character deaths, power imbalance, blood and injury depiction

Chapter Four

Avengers Secondary Holding Facility, Upstate New York

March 28, 2022 

The emergency alarms tore through the silence like a blast. Red strobes pulsed erratically, casting obscure shadows on sterile white walls. “Security breach. Level five.” Came the tense announcement from Friday.

Natasha was first to sprint toward the secure wing. Steve, Sam, and Maria were already converging on the same path, their expressions grim. Tony’s voice buzzed in her earpiece. “Multiple intruders, high tactical skill. Not a robbery but probably this is an attempted extraction or assassination.”

They reached the containment area where Maksim Vasiliev was held, glass panels reinforced with layered vibranium and energy dampeners. The security team was shaken but holding, the intruders bleeding heavily by their feet.

Maria barked orders into her comm. “Sweep the perimeter. No one gets in or out without clearance.”

Natasha’s gaze scanned the room, locking on Maksim’s guarded cell. “Was this an extraction attempt?” 

Sam shook his head. “Could be. Or a hit squad aiming to silence him before trial.”

Bruce’s voice came over the comms, tense but calm. “Either way, we need to rethink security protocols and fast.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The team gathered around the holographic display showing heat signatures and breach points.

Maria's expression was grim. “This was planned. They knew his exact location, the shift changes and the security blind spots.”

Tony tapped his chin. “Who benefits most from Maksim not making it to trial?”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “Lots of people. Old Hydra remnants, past contacts, arms dealers. But it’s not just about Maksim. What about Sienna?”

Steve frowned. “You think she’s a target?”

Maria nodded in agreement. “She’s been blocking attempts to bury Maksim’s crimes. That makes her a liability to some very dangerous people.”

Natasha’s voice was low. “Then that means she’s our liability.”

“Her team isn’t equipped for a hit.” Maria spoke, having looked at every aspect possible of Sienna’s current life. “Whether we like it or not, we need to protect her.”

Steve crossed her arms. “We need to double it. Full SHIELD protocols and bodyguards.”

Natasha glanced at the security feeds. “Well when she’s playing with fire, who knows who it’s going to burn?”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Foyer, The Avengers Compound, Upstate New York

March 26, 2022 

Through the reinforced glass entrance doors, Sienna Blake appeared, clearly flustered, hair just a little tousled, eyes sharp but wary.

Everyone’s attention snapped to her as she stepped forward.

The scanner set off.

Beep, Beep, Beep.

Then a loud, sustained BEEP.

Guards immediately moved to intercept but Sienna just sighed, almost amused.

Without missing a beat, she pulled a sleek pistol from her bag and held it up like a prop. A collective gasp rose from the agents, security guards already gripping their own guns. Natasha’s eyes narrowed. Tony’s mouth fell open. Sam took a half-step back.

Sienna glanced around, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Relax.” She said, voice dry. “I’m licensed for this. No need to call a SWAT team.” She calmly handed the gun over to security.

“Sorry for the inconvenience.” She added with a small bow then collected her briefcase and coat. "I forget I had it with me."

Maria approached, folding her arms. “You sure you have a license for that kind of weapon?”

Sienna shrugged, fluid and unapologetic. “I’m one of New York’s best criminal defense lawyers. Sometimes you need to protect yourself in the courtroom and outside of it.”

Maria’s gaze sharpened. “Bringing a gun here to the Shield HQ? Are you trying to defend yourself from the people who are paid to defend the public?”

Sienna met her stare without flinching. “Considering my car was broken into last night and then blown up.” She said, slowly. “I reserve the right.”

Maria’s expression flickered, respect mingled with concern. “Fair enough. But if anything happens to you in here, they hold SHIELD responsible so please refrain from waving a gun infant of trained operatives.”

Sienna’s grin was full of amusement. “Of course. But you should know I like a challenge.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Briefing Room, The Avengers Compound, Upstate New York

March 26, 2022 

The team sat around the table, still digesting the chaos of the day.

Tony rubbed his temples. “Okay so she’s got balls, I’ll give her that. But there’s more to her.”

Steve nodded, slowly. “She’s not just some ruthless shark. I saw it. She was unsettled when she talked about her car. Somebody came after her."

Natasha leaned back, arms crossed but less guarded. “She doesn’t flaunt her strength.” Natasha said, quietly. “She carries it but you can tell there’s a line.”

Bruce added. “Even the toughest people have a soft spot. It’s what keeps them grounded.”

Sam glanced at Natasha. “Makes you wonder what she’s been through.”

Natasha’s voice softened, almost involuntarily. “More than she lets on.”

Tony smirked. “So she’s not a total hard ass. That’s good, makes her more dangerous.” They all chuckled lightly, an uneasy feeling forming.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Briefing Room, The Avengers Compound, Upstate New York

March 26, 2022 

The walls were lined with whiteboards, cluttered with timelines, evidence logs and legal statutes. Maria, Natasha and Sienna stood shoulder to shoulder, the tension still palpable but underscored with a new layer of mutual respect.

Maria tapped a file on the table. “The tribunal wants witness lists and additional evidence by tomorrow. Sienna, you ready with your subpoenas?”

Sienna nodded, flipping open her folder. “I’ve identified several experts who can challenge the prosecution’s psychiatric evaluations. Also, I’m bringing in a forensic analyst who’s worked with SHIELD before, someone the court will respect.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Won’t that tip your hand?”

Sienna smiled, cool and confident. “If they want a fight, I’ll give them one. But on my terms.”

Maria whispered to Natasha. “She’s playing chess while we’re still setting up the board.”

Natasha’s expression was unreadable. “Then it’s time we learn the rules.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Natasha caught Sienna just as she was about to leave.

“You’re impressive.” Natasha admitted, voice low.

Sienna paused, surprised but pleased. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said all week.”

Natasha smirked. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Sienna chuckled softly. “No promises.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Federal Tribunal Courtroom, Washington, D.C.

March 28, 2022

The courtroom was grand yet sterile, a high-ceilinged chamber with tiered seating for observers, a raised bench for the judge and a central dock where Maksim Vasiliev sat, flanked by SHIELD security. The air buzzed with anticipation.

Sienna Blake strode in confidently, her tailored suit immaculate, briefcase in hand. She exchanged a curt nod with Maria, who had a stack of files ready. Natasha stood just outside the courtroom, eyes sharp and watchful.

The judge entered, a stern woman with silver hair and piercing eyes. The room fell silent.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

“Court is now in session for the case of The People vs. Maksim Vasiliev.” The judge introduced, motioning to the prosecuting team.

The prosecutor on Maria’s side, a grim-faced man in a dark suit, stood first. “Your Honour, we will prove beyond doubt that Maksim Vasiliev, once a Hydra scientist and war criminal, orchestrated horrific acts resulting in thousands of deaths. We will present testimony, classified SHIELD evidence, and forensic data to show his guilt.”

As he sat, Sienna rose, voice steady and clear. “Your Honour, my client’s rights must be upheld without prejudice. We will demonstrate that the evidence presented is insufficient and that due process must prevail, even in cases clouded by past associations. Innocent until proven guilty is the foundation of justice.”

A murmur ran through the courtroom. The judge nodded, motioning for order.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The prosecution called their first witness, a SHIELD analyst in a crisp grey uniform whose badge shimmered under the courtroom lights. He took the stand with practiced composure, though a flicker of nervousness crossed his face as he adjusted the microphone. “Please state your name and position for the record.” The prosecutor asked.

“Silas Hart. Senior Intelligence Analyst, SHIELD.”

The prosecutor nodded. “Mr. Hart, can you explain what your department uncovered, regarding Maksim Vasiliev’s alleged activities?”

Hart cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. Our team intercepted a series of encrypted transmissions between known Hydra operatives. These messages, some dating back over a decade, reference a figure code-named ‘Black Winter,’ whom we later identified as Vasiliev through voice recognition software and metadata trails.”

“And you’re confident in this identification?”

“Yes. The data points are consistent with Vasiliev’s known operational patterns, voiceprint, and locations tied to Hydra’s black site activity.”

The prosecutor continued his questioning, making Sienna want to roll her eyes. Is this the best they could do?

Once he’d finished with his monotone line of questioning, he thanked him and returned to his seat. Sienna stood slowly, her posture calm, her tone measured as she approached the stand.

“Mr. Hart, how are these transmissions gathered?”

“Via secure satellite intercept and SHIELD’s internal surveillance networks.”

Sienna gave a slight nod. “And once gathered, where are they stored?”

“In our classified data vaults, Tier 4 security clearance required.”

“Impressive.” She spoke lightly, pausing just long enough to draw the court’s attention. “Tell me, are these systems completely immune to tampering?”

Hart blinked. “They’re highly secure, with multiple encryption layers and internal monitoring.”

“Highly secure.” Sienna repeated. “But are they infallible?”

There was a beat of silence. Hart shifted in his seat. “No system is entirely infallible.” He admitted, his eyes darting from the prosecution team back to Sienna.

“So, it’s possible someone with the right access, or the right tools, could manipulate or plant data?”

Hart hesitated. “It’s… theoretically possible. But it would require significant expertise and deep access.”

Sienna’s eyes narrowed, voice unwavering. “But possible?” 

“I-“

“For example, say I could bypass a few firewalls, access a couple of internal servers, maybe reroute some encrypted credentials, basically what college students are doing these days for fun, it’s possible?

A pause. 

“Yes. There is always a margin for error.”

A small, satisfied smile crossed Sienna’s lips. “That’s all, Your Honour.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The defense called their first witness. A psychiatrist, silver-haired and solemn, who stepped into the box with quiet authority. His credentials were read into the record, decades of clinical experience, multiple publications on trauma and coercion in high-risk environments and recent work with survivors of psychological warfare.

Sienna approached with careful, deliberate steps, her tone steady, respectful. “Doctor Levin, you’ve spent considerable time evaluating Mr. Vasiliev. Based on your clinical assessment, did he have full control over his actions during the periods in question?”

Levin folded his hands in front of him. “In my professional opinion, I don’t think it’s possible. Mr. Vasiliev was operating under extreme psychological duress. His records, combined with observed behaviour patterns, suggest a sustained state of coercion and what we call dissociation, a mental detachment from one’s actions, often triggered by trauma.”

“Dissociation.” Sienna repeated. “Meaning he may have acted without conscious, deliberate intent?”

“Correct. He was, effectively, in survival mode, conditioned, manipulated and monitored by a regime that employed brutal psychological control. It is not uncommon in cases of long-term coercion for individuals to lose a sense of agency.”

A ripple moved through the gallery. The judge gave a warning glance, and silence returned.

The prosecutor stood, buttoning his jacket as he approached the stand with deliberate steps. His tone was sharp but composed and controlled. “Doctor Levin, you’ve testified that Mr Vasiliev was under extreme psychological duress during the events in question. But you also interviewed him recently, did you not?”

“Yes.” Levin replied, evenly.

“And during those interviews, would you say he was coherent? Responsive? Able to recall details?”

Levin nodded. “Yes. His memory has improved significantly in recent years.”

“So, he's capable of structured thought? Of understanding right and wrong today?”

“Certainly today, yes.”

The prosecutor stepped closer. “And when exactly did this psychological recovery begin?”

Levin considered. “Roughly five years ago. After extended treatment and time away from the environment that caused his trauma.”

“Five years.” The prosecutor repeated. “So he’s had time to reflect. Time to reconstruct memories. Time to shape his version of events.”

Sienna rose slightly from her seat. “Objection. Speculation.”

The judge gave a small nod. “Sustained. Counsel, rephrase.”

The prosecutor barely missed a beat. “Doctor, in your professional opinion, would a subject, any subject, with knowledge of legal consequences be capable of manipulating their own story during therapy?”

Levin’s expression tightened. “It’s possible but I found no indicators of deception in Mr. Vasiliev’s case.”

“No indicators.” The prosecutor echoed. “But also no way to be completely certain.”

“Objection. Asked and answered.” Sienna interjected, her voice calm but firm.

“Sustained.” The judge said, again.

The prosecutor gave a polite nod, though there was an edge to his smile. “Let’s move on.” He paced slowly in front of the witness box. “Doctor, we’re not saying he was incapable of making choices. We’re saying he was under pressure. But he still made them.”

Levin drew a breath. “What I’m saying is that coercion, over time, alters the lens through which a person sees those choices. It’s not black and white.”

“Perhaps not.” The prosecutor said, turning away. “But the consequences of his actions were. No further questions.” He returned to his seat, leaving the weight of his final words to settle across the courtroom.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

As the court adjourned for the day, whispers filled the hall. Natasha lingered near the exit, watching Sienna collect her things. Despite herself, she felt respect growing beneath the surface of her frustration. 

Sienna caught her gaze and gave a slight nod. Natasha turned to leave then paused. “Don’t get comfortable.”

Sienna smiled, watching her go. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”