#just to score some points with the in-laws | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cinnamorollcrybaby · 2 months ago

Note

Couldddd you please write something with hiromi?? I'd appreciate itttt so muchh :)

At Law

Tags: Hiromi Higuruma x fem!Reader, modern!au, nsfw, mdni, academic rivals, enemies to lovers, hate fucking, unhinged!hiromi, depictions of violence including murder

Synopsis: Being the state’s district attorney was your dream job. After years of law school and hard work, you were finally appointed the job and allowed to represent the state in court. You singlehandedly decided which cases to prosecute and who to bring to justice. When your old academic rival, Hiromi, shows up as a defense attorney in court one evening, you know he’s going to give you a hard trial… and a hard fuck.

An: Anything for you nepobaby :)) Hope you enjoy this. I swear I'm going to make these shorter every time, but then, I start writing and literally can't stop.

You two have been chasing each other for the longest time.

It started in law school. You don't exactly remember how it happened, but slowly over time, you and Hiromi began playing your little academic race.

Both of you were brilliant, quick, and determined. Honestly, you two were like a professor's dream to have.

You found yourself studying longer, committing to all-nighters just to read over several codes of law and past cases in the court. All of it just to score a little bit higher than him on a test.

But dammit, he was faster than you when answering questions the professor proposes. His photographic memory serves him well as he's able to distinctly remember what code a law comes from and where the code is at in the Code of Federal Regulations.

Don't even get me started on how mock trials went. The professor would actually have to stop pairing you two against each other because it would become so toxic and brutal between the two.

As law school progressed, the workload just got worse. The school expected you to complete assignments, study for the bar, and take on unpaid internships. You were a slave for your degree.

Hiromi wasn't immune to those types of pressures either, and as much as he hated to admit it, study partners help retain information better. It would help effectively consume the source material in half the time. Unfortunately, the rest of his peers were just so beneath him...

Well, besides you.

All-nighters weren't lonely anymore. You and Hiromi would drink enough caffeine to kill an elephant and go through weeks worth of content in a night.

"You know... the release of endorphins can help concentration and reduce stress, thus helping students study." Hiromi said one early morning.

It was around four a.m, and you two were covering the petty crimes section. To say it was incredibly boring was an understatement. Students like you and Hiromi would never represent or prosecute clients in petty crimes. You two were destined for so much more.

"What are you suggesting, Hiro?" You ask before a small yawn escapes your mouth. You hadn't even looked up from your book.

"I'm suggesting that we help each other by taking a quick break." He responds as he shoves the book away from your lap. Your surprised eyes look up at his tired ones, and he cups your cheeks before he leans down to kiss you.

You would walk into class sore the next day. As soon as the adrenaline from one round wore off, you two were gunning for the next.

Your study sessions continued on and so did your competitiveness.

When you scored one point higher than him on the bar, he hate fucked you until morning.

Then, he made it his mission to surpass you everywhere else too. Recruiters and attorneys personally from different law firms were ringing Hiromi's phone constantly.

You genuinely believed that he would take the calls on speakerphone just to fucking spite you. You could hear the lawyers on the phone praise him so highly, practically begging for him to come practice at their firm.

Of course, you were getting some recruitment opportunities too, but it was still somehow harder for women to find jobs in the criminal justice field than it was for men. You also hadn't been selling yourself to these firms as much as he was because you had your mind set on working for the state. You wanted to be a prosecutor for the district attorney.

The icing on the cake was when you two were having one of your "study breaks" (aka Hiromi had you bent over your bed, and he was delivering the deepest, most toe curling backshots known to man), and he took a phone call from the district attorney's office.

His hand covered your mouth as he continued to thrust roughly into you while the man on the phone offered Hiromi a job.

"Hm? Oh, thank you for the opportunity." He graciously spoke over the phone as he was absolutely bullying your insides. Your stomach coiled from anger and arousal. You fucking hated him so much. "I'm weighing out all of my options now, but I'll have an answer for you by the end of the week, sir."

After more pleasantries, he hung up the phone and bent over to where he could whisper in your hear. "Hear that, little dove? I'm getting job opportunities from the state while you're under me getting ruined."

"You know, I'll probably be too busy from here on out to play this childish games with you." Thrust. "That'll be too bad, won't it?" Thrust. "Can't say I'll miss you though." Thrust. "Maybe this pretty cunt, but that'll probably be it." Thrust. "Better make this last one count, shouldn't we?" Thrust.

Oh, and he made good on his word. Your entire body ached after he made you finish for the nth time that evening. "I'll see you around, little dove." He whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek and leaving your dorm.

He made good on his word about that too. He never returned to your dorm. Sure, you two were graduating in two days, but some small part of you thought he'd might come over for a celebration.

No, he left you behind. He left you behind. You lost.

The anger burned hot for a few months as you gathered barrings after law school, especially when you'd see his name in the papers.

Defense Attorney Higuruma gets a non-guilty verdict for alleged drug trafficker!

Higuruma sways jury in closing argument, providing the most gut-wrenching speech!

Higuruma, Higuruma, Higuruma.

He was a fucking sensation in the criminal justice field, and his name left a sour taste in your mouth.

The anger only started to subside once you landed your dream job after a long internship. You were finally a prosecutor in a major circuit court in the crimes division.

Hiromi's name finally fled from your brain as you started to flood the newspapers.

Prosecutor helps put away notorious serial killer for life.

Cartel drug lord behind bars after district attorney helps deliver a guilty verdict for over 32 charges.

You finally felt like you hadn't been left behind. You were living the life you wanted to live ever since you were little. Did you imagine you'd be married by now? Yeah, sure. You just... hadn't met the right one yet.

Dating was hard while maintaining a professional career. You had to be extremely choosey for one. It would be scandalous to see a prosecutor dating someone with a criminal record.

And the men were sweet, don't get me wrong. They'd take you on nice dates, write you pitiful love letters, and treat you like a princess... They were all so collectively boring, especially in bed.

You'd tell them! You'd give them incredibly detailed instruction to be rough and mean to you, but they'd always laugh and make some excuse for not wanting to hurt you. Ugh.

Maybe you were ruined by Hiromi... because the only thing that got you off nowadays was the thought of him whispering hateful words into your ear while pounding himself into you with little concern or remorse.

Slowly, the gifts would start appearing.

A bouquet of white roses sitting on your desk. Do you miss me, LD?

You thought it was a simple mistake or a sick prank from one of the criminals you help lock away. You would quietly dispose of the gifts until the slowly became more alarming.

Miss your sweet sounds, LD. An audio recording of you moaning on a tape recorder played.

Who are you trying to look nice for, LD? None of those men could treat you like I did. Pictures of you going out on a date.

I'll take care of them for you. Don't worry your pretty little head, LD. A dead dove.

This was enough to get a harassment and stalking charge, but you didn't want to concern the local police. For one, you knew how lousy the police were when it came to crimes like this from working alongside them. They were honestly an embarrassment. For two, you didn't want this getting out to the public because then copy cats would start up.

You tried investigating on your own, but you came up to a dead end every time. The way this person called you LD made your head spin. That's not even your initials, but the gifts were certainly intended for you.

The only refuge for you was when you were in a court room. You felt safe and protected. A stalker of this degree wouldn't be ballsy enough to confront you in a courtroom while you're surrounded by police and bailiffs constantly.

Your refuge was short-lived by catching a glimpse of a familiar face in court one evening.

He looked as handsome as he did in law school. Hiromi's tired eyes met yours, and he almost immediately cracked a smile as he approached you during recess.

"Well look at you, dove." He smiled as he looked down at you. Hiromi's dark hair laid messily on the top of his head, and he was wearing a full business suit that framed his body nicely. "I see the district attorney's office settled for the second best option after I turned them down. Good for them."

He was still as arrogant and competitive as ever, making your heart flutter like it did back in law school. "Very funny, Hiro." You roll your eyes as you stand to look up at him.

"It's all harmless jokes. I promise. I'm proud of you, really." He assures as his eyes wander your body for just a moment.

You're not use to his praise. Normally, you're not the type to enjoy it, but hearing those words made you clench around nothing as your stomach swirled with butterflies.

"Thanks... I've heard good things about you as well.." You murmur quietly, suddenly losing all your nerve. "So, are you representing someone?"

"I am. I didn't just come here to watch you for fun. Though, I would've had I known you were such a big shot." He nudges your arm gently, causing you to laugh softly. "I'm representing a young man charged with murder. I'm sure you heard about it. Big news all over the television."

"Who was the victim?" You ask as you flip through your case files. If this was a first setting, surely you wouldn't go to trial today, but the thought of going to trial against Hiromi made your heart pound with excitement. Not many lawyers gave you too much trouble during court, but Hiromi... he would be a good match.

"They can't identify the victim. Male, John Doe, early twenties. That's all the information the cops have." He explains, and you start skimming through the case file quickly. It's astonishing that the police made an arrest when there was hardly a body to work from.

"Huh." You muse quietly as you look through the crime scene photos and pictures of the defendant's hands covered in soot from a fire. The victim had been burned.

"I'll be making a motion to dismiss this case based on a lack of substantial evidence linking my defendant to the body. Just a heads up." He then winks at you and walks away from your bar as the judge comes back and sits on the bench.

It seems as though you and Hiromi will have one last back and forth like old times.

When his case gets called before the judge, Hiromi takes the pleasure in speaking first. His client is handcuffed, sitting down next to him. The defendant was young, maybe nineteen. The evidence supporting his conviction was weak, but it was still there. Convincing a jury to convict him will be tough, and that's if the judge doesn't dismiss the charges outright.

After a long, drawn out argument between you and Hiromi about the proponderance of evidence, the judge decides to not dismiss the case.

"In that case, your honor, we would like to request a hearing today." Hiromi speaks with such confidence as he stands before the judge.

"Your honor, the state hasn't had adequate time to prepare for a hearing, and this is first setting. We'd like to request a reset date to prepare our defense." You immediately follow up as you also stand up.

"Your honor, my client has been incarcerated for over twenty-five days for a charge that has flimsy evidence at best. He has a right to a speedy trial." Hiromi rebuttals.

"Enough. We'll have a trial today whether the state is ready to proceed or not." The judge decides. Wonderful.

The trial is as painful as you imagined it to be. The evidence is flimsy, and Hiromi is practically bullying the witnesses on the stand, and when it's your turn for redirect, he practically bullies you with objection after objection.

"And what did the police-"

"Objection hearsay." Hiromi stands from his chair and eyes you with that cold stare of his.

"Your honor, I haven't even finished my question without the defense counsel butting in." You argue to the judge.

"Overruled. Counsel, let her finish." The judge warns.

Your head is practically throbbing by the end of it. The jury deliberates for two hours before coming back with the sentence. You tried your hardest and made good work with what evidence you had.

"On the charge of first-degree murder, we the jury find the defendant... not guilty."

Dammit. Hiromi won once again.

"On the charge of abuse of a corpse, we the jury find the defendant... guilty. On the charge of tampering with physical evidence, we the jury find the defendant... guilty. On the charge of arson, we the jury find the defendant... guilty."

He didn't win.

"On these charges, I will impose a sentence of twenty-five years in the Fuchu Prison with the possibility of parole after ten years." The judge sentences before whacking his gavel down.

You let out an exhausting sigh as you slowly gather your things after court adjourns. Today was likely the hardest day in your career, and you can't help but think about that young nineteen-year-old who won't see freedom until he's twenty-nine.

Hiromi approaches you after the courtroom is completely empty.

"You seem tired, dove." He muses as he loosens his tie from around his neck. He'd never admit it, but you absolutely gave him a run for his money.

"It's not everyday someone gives me that much trouble in court." You softly laugh as you look up at him. You feel your cheeks warm as you realize how close he is to you.

"Yeah? Did it bring back old memories?" He steps closer as his hand slowly reaches up to cup your cheek.

"Hm? Of me winning our mock trials?" You ask with a cheeky grin, and his grip tightens a bit.

"I distinctly remember our record being 15-13 with me having 15 wins." He replies as he leans down to you. He remembers the score you two kept from back in law school?

"You must be still sore about me outscoring you on the bar if you kept up with our scores from mock trials."

"Mmm, quite the contrary actually, you've always been my favorite opponent, even if you piss me off." He replies as he leans down towards you and presses his lips against yours.

The kiss was full of everything you could ever imagine: heat, lust, a hint of resentment towards each other. Before you know it, you're pressed against the table as Hiromi's hands roam your body like he's in a frenzy.

"Hiro.." You moan as he kisses down your neck roughly biting on your flesh. "My office.." You whine, trying to get him to ease up on you just long enough so you two could get out of the courtroom.

"And if I say no, little dove?" He whispers in your ear as his hand slips underneath your dress with such ease. "You'd let me take you right here, wouldn't you?"

"Hiro~" You whine in a breathy tone as his fingers trace around your clit like they did so long ago.

"That's not an answer, little dove." He demands as he applies more pressure. "I asked if you'd let me fuck you on this bar until you forgot your own name."

"Yes-!" You gasp as his fingers skillfully play with your most sensitive area.

"That's what i figured. You were always such a slut back then too. Somethings never change, hm?" He muses as he goes back to sucking and kissing on your neck. His fingers tease near your entrance, but they slowly trail back up to your clit.

"You're lucky I respect you enough." He growls lowly before he removes his hand. "Lead the way to your office."

As soon as you two are behind closed doors in your modest office, clothes are being thrown onto the floor, moans and small whispers of sweet nothings were exchanged. You could quite literally feel your heartbeat fluttering deep inside your cunt.

He gently nudges you to lay down on the leather couch you had in your office for the late nights you spent reviewing evidence. Your skin connects with the soft leather as he gets between your legs. "I wonder if you still taste the same, little dove."

His tongue gently laps at you, and he immediately hums with satisfaction. "Somehow sweeter, actually." He answers his own question as flattens his tongue and licks you from entrance to clit, savoring your fluids of arousal on his tongue.

Your hands find his hair, and you gently tug on it as he helps himself to your wetness. He takes his time, lapping at you slowly while gently suckling on the small bundle of nerves. Sometimes you swear he's spelling his name into your cunt with his tongue before he shoves his tongue directly inside you, drinking your nectar straight from the source.

"H-hiro~!" You whimper as you try to shuffle your hips away. The stimulation was too much to handle.

"Don't try to run from me, little dove." He grunts as he wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you right back down onto his mouth.

His nose bumps into your clit as you subconsciously ride his face, searching for release. "Yeeahh, there we gooo. There's my little dove.. bein' such a slut." He coos as he buries his face deeper into your core.

His entire face is damp from your delicious juices. He's such a messy eater, getting it all over his chin and nose. His tired eyes flutter up to look at you as you're on the crux of your orgasm.

"Cum on my face, little dove. Let me have you." He instructs before lapping at your cunt like a starved man.

Your voice goes high pitched and breathy as you grab onto his hair tightly, forcing him in even more before you finish all over his mouth. He gratefully continues to run his tongue along your folds until your legs are trembling on his shoulders.

You softly pant as you relax into the couch. You hadn't had an orgasm like that in so long. You had almost forgotten how they feel.

Hiromi looks up at you with a confident smirk and an intoxicated gaze. "Seems like you missed me, little dove."

"Please, I only missed when you're too preoccupied to run your mouth." You retort with a grin.

"Is that so?" He questions as he pulls down his boxers, and his length springs up from the constraints of the fabric. You tug your bottom lip between your teeth as you're reminded of how big he is.

As if on muscle memory, you turn to get in doggy position because that was his and your position of choice back in college, but he grabs your thighs and prevents you from moving.

"Nuh uh. You're gonna look at me when I take you this time." He grins as he positions himself between your thighs. He fists his length a few times before slowly dragging his fat tip up and down your sopping wet folds, savoring the feeling with a small groan. "I wanna see the tears in your pretty eyes, little dove."

You're about to argue and protest about the tears part, but he's quick to shut you up by forcing his length into you all at once. Hiromi's not only long, but he's very girthy, stretching you so deliciously. White hot pain courses through you as your nails dig into the couch.

"Ah-! F-fuck!" You curse as you try to get use to his size.

"Mmm~ you're tight, dove. How long has it been for you, hm? Surely you've fucked someone since college, unless you've been hopelessly waiting for me." He grins as his hips are slow. He allows you the space to almost get use to him before he shoves into you aggressively, making you see stars.

"Ngh... p-probably like.. uh.. oh god, six months?" You answer as you stutter over your words. Your last hookup had ghosted you after you slept with him. Though, it didn't really bother you. He wasn't good in bed at all, and he called you crazy for asking him to be mean to you during the deed.

Hiromi simply smirks down at you, proud of himself for how fast he can make you a mess underneath him.

"Oh, you poor thing... hah.. No one can take care of this pussy like I can, hm?" He taunts as his hands grab ahold of your hips. His eyes are fixated on where you two are connects. He loves watching his length sink inside you.

Your warm wet entrance only serves to suck him in further, causing him to groan and continue his deep, ruthless pacing.

"N-no..." You're not even able to deny it to him and play hard to get. No one comes close to making you feel as good as he does.

His hips snap forward harshly, fucking you deeper into the black leather of the couch beneath you. Your entire body jolts with each rough thrust.

"Only I'm good for you, isn't that right little dove? You're mine, aren't you?" He asks as his hand reaches up and wraps around your throat, gently applying pressure. His eyes are now staring deeply into yours, waiting for an answer.

"Fuck, Hiro.." You whine, unable to commit to saying you're his. He applies a bit more pressure with his thumb and fingertips.

"I asked you a question." He grits as he slams back into you at a dizzying rate. "Are you mine?"

"Oh~ fuck.. I-" You can barely get a word out as he's ruthlessly abusing your little cunt. This was the roughness you had begged all those other guys for. "Yes-! God, fuck, yes." You cry as you feel your stomach clenching with the burning passion of another orgasm.

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret because you're mine now, dove." He mumbles lowly as he leans closer towards you. His hips keep up with his rhythm as his face is close to your ear. "That guy you sent to prison today was innocent of all counts."

Your hands reach up and hold onto his back muscles as he's rutting deep inside of you, reaching new places with his new position.

"What-? Hiro... I don't.."

"You sent an innocent man to prison, little dove. Doesn't that bother you? You're sick just like me." He continues on, making you feel all confused.

"How... ah~ how do you know he's innocent?" You ask as your eyebrows furrow. Your hands search his back, and your legs wrap around him as if you're hugging him.

"Because I did it." He growls into your ear. "That pathetic excuse for a man wasn't good enough for you, LD."

Chills immediately shoot through your body from him calling you by those damn initials. LD. You cling to him for a moment, unsure of what to even feel or say. His hips continue to rut inside of you.

"What's the matter, little dove?"

LD. Little dove. You squeeze your eyes shut as you finally piece everything together. Your last hookup didn't disappear. Your stalker, Hiromi, took care of him just like he promised he would.

For some sick reason, your stomach continues to clench as he's rocking back and forth. Your eyes meet his.

"Hiro... that's so.." You can't get the words out before you're finishing all over his cock with a high-pitched squeal.

Hiromi grins wildly as he watches you come undone from your orgasm. "My little dove is just as sick as I am, isn't she?" He coos before he leans back up.

His hips starts to drill into you mercilessly, not giving you a chance to catch your breath or even think. "Oh, fuck!" He curses as he's chasing his high deep inside you. “Mmnph~ gonna cum inside you and really make you mine.” He coos as his hips start moving sloppily.

You know it’s so wrong and taboo, but you couldn’t help but feel your arousal start building again. He just confessed to you about a serious crime, yet your pussy was still soaked, making the most delicious plap! plap! plap! noises as he pounded into you.

“Fuuuuck~” He groans as you feel his thick length twitching inside of you as he spills deep into your womb.

For a moment, you’re completely speechless. Hiromi softly pants as he presses small kisses into your collarbones. “‘m sorry. I had to do it, dove. I couldn’t let him get close to you.” He murmurs quietly. “Only I get to hear your sweet sounds. No one knows you better than me.”

Taking a deep breath, you realize that if this ever gets brought to light, you and Hiromi are going down for life. You gently nuzzle your face into his neck. “Hiro, you’re insane.”

“I know that, I do.” His voice is so sweet, cooing to you. “But we can get away with it, even if we’re miraculously caught.” He presses a sweet kiss to your temple.

Well, a year later, and the two renowned lawyers are married. At least you didn’t marry someone with a criminal record ;)

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httpsryu · 6 months ago

Text

the cc; campus crush

pairing: kim minjeong x fem! reader

summary: kim minjeong feels her heart rush at the sight of the cold-hearted rich girl

category: enemies-to-lovers(in minjeong's head)

genre: very very slight angst, fluff at the end

warnings: y/n is kind of mean (ITS IN HER BLOOD)

Hong Y/N, the youngest daughter of one of the richest conglomerate family, a real life nepo baby whose life has been granted since the day of her birth.

Much like her old sister; Hong Haein, Y/N is known for her cold-stoned face and cold-hearted soul. No one dares to even step in front of the pretty female.

Kim Minjeong on the other hand, oh how she wishes she was able to run into the raven-haired student that roams the campus.

"Isn't it crazy how I only saw her walk by once and I never saw her ever again?" Minjeong rants to her best friends while reading a news article about Y/N and the recent collaboration with YSL.

Jimin looks up from the medicine book, pushing her glasses up. "Well, you two may have different schedules."

"Or, she's only here once in a while?" Aeri assumes. "Like look at her family, college is probably like a hobby to her."

How could college be a hobby when the love of her life is sitting right here in the library.

"Her shoe game always kill." Yizhou scrolls through Y/N's Instagram and looking at the high heels in each post with envy. "You better get on that before some other man does."

Aeri laughs at Yizhou's words and for her friend to have so much hope in the latter. "That's if you ever see her again gracing these college floors."

Minjeong could only grumble under her breath, throwing a rolled up straw wrapper at Aeri. "At least have faith in me, yeah?"

"I have faith in you." Jimin says, raising her hand in support of her friend which earns a smile from the puppy-like female.

Minjeong stretches her arms, letting out a noise in content of how the stretch felt before throwing all her books and notebooks in her bag.

"Going home already?" Yizhou pouts, not wanting the other to leave. "But who will I bother now?"

The short haired rolls her eyes at her friend before pointing at the Japanese and getting out of the chair she's been in for 4 hours. "You can bother her, she's not even doing anything besides watching that dumb rom-com."

"Will we see you in tomorrow's morning lecture or you're skipping again?" Jimin asks, eyes still focusing on the materials written down in the medicine book. "Just wondering if I'll need to bring four or three cups of coffee."

Minjeong contemplates for a second. "I'll show up."

"Okay! See you tomorrow."

For some strange reason, Minjeong will score high on exams yet her overall class grade drops because of lame professors counting attendance, the short-haired has no choice but to start showing up again.

With a hum in response, Minjeong slings her bag around her shoulders as she turns towards the door of the library. She looks down on her phone, checking for any important emails from any professors.

"OW!" A voice gets the short-haired's attention off her phone. "Could you at least watch where you're going?"

OH MY GOD?

Hong Y/N, the girl of Minjeong's dreams.

You pat off your clothes, afraid of dust flying onto your cropped blazer that you JUST got yesterday while shopping with your sister and brother-in-law.

The short-haired is caught in a trance at how beautiful your voice sounds. With a pretty face of yours and a music-like tone of a voice, she doesn't mind dealing with that cold-heart of yours.

"You're not going to apologize or anything?" You ask, glaring at the female in front of you.

Right.

"My bad, I got distracted." Minjeong nervously giggles, not that she's afraid of you but because you're standing in front of her. "I'm sorry for not watching my direction. If you want, I can pay for your clothes if anything is wrong with them."

If Yizhou was here, she would laugh in Minjeong's face at how much of a simp she already was for a girl who BARELY pays attention to anyone.

You look at the puppy-like female, no expression on your face. "No, you don't have to do that. It'll just be a waste of my time."

"Let me treat you out to coffee then!" The other spits out those words in a flash, her eyes full of determination of some sort. "It'll at least ease my mind."

You actually have no time for anything.

"It doesn't have to be today! Or tomorrow or the day after that." Minjeong exclaims, her eyes are puppy-like as she stares down at you. "Just, when you want cofffe, let me know."

And before your mouth forms a response to say, the red haired girl is already off on her heels and walking.

"I don't even know her...?" You speak to yourself, hold on your handbag tightens as you proceed to walk into the library with the same face you had on the entire time.

Being the youngest daughter of the Hong family isn't the easiest. Sure, others may argue that you got everything handed to you since the second you were born. You admit that they're correct, you were born in a family full of money.

Being born into one of the wealthiest family in South Korea already had a career already chosen for you.

But, it's not something you'd want to do for the rest of your life.

It's different for your sister and brother. While Haein is good at her job and takes charge while also being confident about it, Soocheol was adamant about extending his resort business. And you; you hated being in the business industry. Whether it'd be retail or resort, you'd be homeless instead.

"Y/N, keep your head in the game." Your father's voice brings you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to your senses. "You're going to be working alongside your sister after college so you need to make sure you're paying attention."

You let out a nod, apologizing under your breath as you pay attention back to the board where your brother-in-law is talking about the results of kicking out designer stores that aren't reaching their sales. Whatever that was.

"If we let that happen, we'll be required to pay a penalty fee if they found out due to the branding." Hyunwoo explains to your father.

You let out a bored sigh, looking across the table at your brother who's cluelessly flipping through the papers then at your older sister who is sat beside you, at ease listening to everything being said.

"Stop sighing." Haein warns you, worried that you'll get a scolding from your father at home during dinner. "Just endure it."

You pout your bottom lip out in response, picking up a pen and doodling on the papers that were handed out to you earlier before the meeting. Oh, how you wish you could be anywhere else but here.

"On the topic of counterfeit products, it may affect how the overall sales in a whole range." Hyun-woo points at the estimated percentages.

Fighting to urge to let out another sigh, you rest your chin in the palm of your hand trying to pay attention to whatever your brother-in-law babbling about now.

While trying to look interested in the contents of the screen, you can't help but to think back on what happened earlier on campus and the encounter with the puppy-resembling female.

How come you've never seen her before?

How were you even going to get coffee with her if you don't know the girl? Not saying you would but maybe; if it ever comes down to it; then it will.

"We will take a look and come up with appropriate measures." Your father said, giving a look to your brother to write that down. "Meeting done."

The way everyone in that room can see how your eyes lit up at those last two words from your father. Everyone exits the meeting room, besides your family. Rolling your eyes at what this may mean.

Another lecture on being professional as a Hong family member

Possibly a really good vacation trip out of nowhere

"Hong Y/N, just why do you think you can behave the way you do?" Your father clicks his tongue in a scolding manner, pressing the button on the remote which rolls down the blinds of the meeting room so other employees would not be able to see.

You look down at your hands, not wanting to make eye contact with the angry man.

"I understand you're the youngest but Y/N, you need to realize that you've been off the hook since birth." He continues, letting out a deep sigh after. "You need to start taking things seriously, you are not a kid anymore."

Without letting you say a word, you hear the footsteps of him leave the room with the door clicking shut behind him.

There it is again; the stupid burden falling and feeling heavy on your shoulders. Your body starts trembling and your tears can't stop falling from your dagger-like eyes.

"Y/Nnnie?" Your brother softly calls out, walking over to where you sat. "Are you crying?"

Your brother-in-law's hands you a tissue.

"That's why I told you to endure it." Haein warns you.

Soocheol pats your back. "You know how father is like. He's serious when it comes to business."

"Don't comfort her." Your sister takes Soocheol's hand off your back. "She needs to learn and grow from this."

Hyunwoo calms his wife down. "Honey, let's not stress her out."

"That's right! She's already startled by father's words from earlier." Your brother defends you.

The older female shakes her head, disapproving the two males. "Once you're all settled down, come to my office for a talk, Y/N."

Soocheol gasps, placing his hand over his mouth in a way to not frighten you (it didn't work). While your brother-in-law could only give you a 'good luck' look as he goes back to his office. Soocheol shortly leaving afterwards after getting a phone call from the chairman (your grandfather).

Clicking on the button of the remote to draw the blinds back up, you stare through the windows and across into where your older sister's office is at. She's furrowing her brows upon reading some critical conditions and you know she's unhappy with something.

With a sigh to calm down your nerves, you quietly exit the meeting room and walk across to knock on the CEO's door. Seeing her through the clear glass door, she brings her hand up which prompts you to walk in. Each step you take, nerves are taking over as you walk towards her desk.

"I'm not being tough on you because I want to." She looks up, crossing her arm. "But because you're a smart woman, Y/N. We just want to push that towards the business that's been in the family."

Business this! Business that! Why does no one ever want to hear what you want to do?

"Do you get what I'm trying to say?" Her brow is raised, looking stern yet she means no harm. "Push through for a few more years, alright?"

You want to laugh-out of absurd. Everyone always tells you that as long as you listen to father and grandfather, you should be set. After all, we were born and raised into a conglomerate family. One of the wealthiest at that.

Yet, why does it bother you when you know you're set for life?

"Are you listening, Y/N?" Haein says, waiting for your response.

"Yes."

With a hum in satisfaction, Haein leans back in her chair. "Okay, meeting done."

With a small bow, you can only walk out of your older sister's office feeling disappointed in yourself.

Minjeong sighs while taking a seat in the back of the lecture room waiting for the class to start and for her friends to get here. She can only get her materials out and prepare for class in the meantime.

While opening her tote bag, she hears the lecture room's doors open again, indicating that another person also decided to come early. Looking up, still tired and out of her mind, to see who the other person is; Minjeong suddenly sits up and instantly widens awake.

What are you doing here? You were in this class? How come the others never told her about you?

You stand up straight, bag clutched in your hands while looking effortlessly beautiful in a vintage Chanel long sleeved blazer which hugs your waist perfectly along with a white turtleneck and a matching vintage Chanel skirt. And rarely; a backpack is hugging your back.

Minjeong has to give it you; she does admit that your shoe game will always do the outfit even more attention. Valentino heels seems to be one of your favorites.

Oh; how down bad Minjeong is for this classy lady in front of her.

You and her make eye contact. You look at her, realizing that it's the same puppy-eyed girl from yesterday. With a small quiet sigh, you walk up the lecture room's stairs.

The short-haired feels her breath hitch at the sight of you walking, omg the universe is blessing her with all of these Y/N moments.

"Is anyone sitting here?" You ask, the same cold sounding voice like yesterday but oh does Minjeong love the way your voice sounds. (she can never be your hater like the others are)

The ginger shakes her head immediately. "Please sit!"

'Strange.' You talk to yourself in your own thoughts at how eager that girl sounded.

Nonetheless, you sit in the seat next to her. Taking your backpack off and placing it aside before staring at the side view of the red haired. How strange yet intriguing she is.

Minjeong can see from her peripheral vision, her ears starts heating up and she can't help but to awkwardly turn to you. Expecting you to look away, you continue staring. Same unfazed cold expression that you're known for.

"W-why are you staring at me?" She asks, unsure of what to do or say.

Getting a shrug in response from you, you sigh before turning your full attention to the front of the room.

"What time does this class end?" You look down at the watch sitting on your wrist, ready to bolt out of here before getting yet another scolding from your sister.

"9:45."

With another sigh escaping your mouth, you sit up straight while continuing to stare at the whiteboard against the wall.

Minjeong wonders how long you've been in this class for. Perhaps; it's your first day.

The door opens again, this time with two loud voices and one voice shushing them constantly. A specific ginger short-haired hides her face from them, on purpose (and to also not mess up her love life).

"Oh! Minjeong is here today!" Aeri looks up, ready to wave at the named girl before trailing her eyes over to the figure next to her and her mouth instantly hangs low.

You nod to yourself at the recent information. Her name is Minjeong? Somehow; that name matches the puppy-like student.

"Let's not bother her." Jimin pushes both Aeri and Yizhou to rows a couple behind the first before sending a look over to her best friend.

The Japanese fights the urge to look back, whispering to Yizhou. "I thought Hong Y/N dropped this class?"

"She probably had other things to attend to." Yizhou whispers back.

Clearing your throat, you turn towards the female besides you.

Minjeong fidgets with her hands before she too turns to face you.

"About that coffee-" "-Would you like to get coffee today?"

The both of you stare at each other, until she lets out a laugh which caught your attention. Suddenly, you're staring a bit harder at her, focusing on her features a bit longer than you normally would focus on other people. And you cannot help but to wonder why once again, you've never seen her before until now.

"Would you like to get coffee with me today after class?" Minjeong asks, a smile on her pretty lips as she patiently waits for your answer with nervousness rushing through her at the expression of yours.

You clear your throat again, pulling away from the eye contact as you stare back at the front while ignoring the way your cheeks suddenly feels warm. "Okay, then."

Your answer simply means yes.

To Minjeong, that answer sounded indecisive almost.

"Your treat, correct?" You ask, still ignoring the weird heating effect on your cheeks.

The puppy-like female is doing summersaults in her head, jumping up and down mentally like an overly excited puppy who's ready to tackle down their human.

"Yeah! Of course, it is!"

next part: may 8, 2024; publishing date

i LOVED qot SO MUCH so of course i had a bit of inspo for this small short, characters from queen of tears are NOT mines (all rights go to the writers) leaning to writing another part to this (maybe?)

#kpop x reader #kpop imagines #aespa x reader #minjeong x reader #kim minjeong x reader #winter x reader

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mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months ago

Text

How to shatter the class solidarity of the ruling class

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me WEDNESDAY (Apr 11) at UCLA, then Chicago (Apr 17), Torino (Apr 21) Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

Audre Lorde counsels us that "The Master's Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master's House," while MLK said "the law cannot make a man love me, but it can restrain him from lynching me." Somewhere between replacing the system and using the system lies a pragmatic – if easily derailed – course.

Lorde is telling us that a rotten system can't be redeemed by using its own chosen reform mechanisms. King's telling us that unless we live, we can't fight – so anything within the system that makes it easier for your comrades to fight on can hasten the end of the system.

Take the problems of journalism. One old model of journalism funding involved wealthy newspaper families profiting handsomely by selling local appliance store owners the right to reach the townspeople who wanted to read sports-scores. These families expressed their patrician love of their town by peeling off some of those profits to pay reporters to sit through municipal council meetings or even travel overseas and get shot at.

In retrospect, this wasn't ever going to be a stable arrangement. It relied on both the inconstant generosity of newspaper barons and the absence of a superior way to show washing-machine ads to people who might want to buy washing machines. Neither of these were good long-term bets. Not only were newspaper barons easily distracted from their sense of patrician duty (especially when their own power was called into question), but there were lots of better ways to connect buyers and sellers lurking in potentia.

All of this was grossly exacerbated by tech monopolies. Tech barons aren't smarter or more evil than newspaper barons, but they have better tools, and so now they take 51 cents out of every ad dollar and 30 cents out of ever subscriber dollar and they refuse to deliver the news to users who explicitly requested it, unless the news company pays them a bribe to "boost" their posts:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/04/saving-news-big-tech

The news is important, and people sign up to make, digest, and discuss the news for many non-economic reasons, which means that the news continues to struggle along, despite all the economic impediments and the vulture capitalists and tech monopolists who fight one another for which one will get to take the biggest bite out of the press. We've got outstanding nonprofit news outlets like Propublica, journalist-owned outlets like 404 Media, and crowdfunded reporters like Molly White (and winner-take-all outlets like the New York Times).

But as Hamilton Nolan points out, "that pot of money…is only large enough to produce a small fraction of the journalism that was being produced in past generations":

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/what-will-replace-advertising-revenue

For Nolan, "public funding of journalism is the only way to fix this…If we accept that journalism is not just a business or a form of entertainment but a public good, then funding it with public money makes perfect sense":

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/public-funding-of-journalism-is-the

Having grown up in Canada – under the CBC – and then lived for a quarter of my life in the UK – under the BBC – I am very enthusiastic about Nolan's solution. There are obvious problems with publicly funded journalism, like the politicization of news coverage:

https://www.theguardian.com/media/2023/jan/24/panel-approving-richard-sharp-as-bbc-chair-included-tory-party-donor

And the transformation of the funding into a cheap political football:

https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/poilievre-defund-cbc-change-law-1.6810434

But the worst version of those problems is still better than the best version of the private-equity-funded model of news production.

But Nolan notes the emergence of a new form of hedge fund news, one that is awfully promising, and also terribly fraught: Hunterbrook Media, an investigative news outlet owned by short-sellers who pay journalists to research and publish damning reports on companies they hold a short position on:

https://hntrbrk.com/

For those of you who are blissfully distant from the machinations of the financial markets, "short selling" is a wager that a company's stock price will go down. A gambler who takes a short position on a company's stock can make a lot of money if the company stumbles or fails altogether (but if the company does well, the short can suffer literally unlimited losses).

Shorts have historically paid analysts to dig into companies and uncover the sins hidden on their balance-sheets, but as Matt Levine points out, journalists work for a fraction of the price of analysts and are at least as good at uncovering dirt as MBAs are:

https://www.bloomberg.com/opinion/articles/2024-04-02/a-hedge-fund-that-s-also-a-newspaper

What's more, shorts who discover dirt on a company still need to convince journalists to publicize their findings and trigger the sell-off that makes their short position pay off. Shorts who own a muckraking journalistic operation can skip this step: they are the journalists.

There's a way in which this is sheer genius. Well-funded shorts who don't care about the news per se can still be motivated into funding freely available, high-quality investigative journalism about corporate malfeasance (notoriously, one of the least attractive forms of journalism for advertisers). They can pay journalists top dollar – even bid against each other for the most talented journalists – and supply them with all the tools they need to ply their trade. A short won't ever try the kind of bullshit the owners of Vice pulled, paying themselves millions while their journalists lose access to Lexisnexis or the PACER database:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/24/anti-posse/#when-you-absolutely-positively-dont-give-a-solitary-single-fuck

The shorts whose journalists are best equipped stand to make the most money. What's not to like?

Well, the issue here is whether the ruling class's sense of solidarity is stronger than its greed. The wealthy have historically oscillated between real solidarity (think of the ultrawealthy lobbying to support bipartisan votes for tax cuts and bailouts) and "war of all against all" (as when wealthy colonizers dragged their countries into WWI after the supply of countries to steal ran out).

After all, the reason companies engage in the scams that shorts reveal is that they are profitable. "Behind every great fortune is a great crime," and that's just great. You don't win the game when you get into heaven, you win it when you get into the Forbes Rich List.

Take monopolies: investors like the upside of backing an upstart company that gobbles up some staid industry's margins – Amazon vs publishing, say, or Uber vs taxis. But while there's a lot of upside in that move, there's also a lot of risk: most companies that set out to "disrupt" an industry sink, taking their investors' capital down with them.

Contrast that with monopolies: backing a company that merges with its rivals and buys every small company that might someday grow large is a sure thing. Shriven of "wasteful competition," a company can lower quality, raise prices, capture its regulators, screw its workers and suppliers and laugh all the way to Davos. A big enough company can ignore the complaints of those workers, customers and regulators. They're not just too big to fail. They're not just too big to jail. They're too big to care:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi

Would-be monopolists are stuck in a high-stakes Prisoner's Dilemma. If they cooperate, they can screw over everyone else and get unimaginably rich. But if one party defects, they can raid the monopolist's margins, short its stock, and snitch to its regulators.

It's true that there's a clear incentive for hedge-fund managers to fund investigative journalism into other hedge-fund managers' portfolio companies. But it would be even more profitable for both of those hedgies to join forces and collude to screw the rest of us over. So long as they mistrust each other, we might see some benefit from that adversarial relationship. But the point of the 0.1% is that there aren't very many of them. The Aspen Institute can rent a hall that will hold an appreciable fraction of that crowd. They buy their private jets and bespoke suits and powdered rhino horn from the same exclusive sellers. Their kids go to the same elite schools. They know each other, and they have every opportunity to get drunk together at a charity ball or a society wedding and cook up a plan to join forces.

This is the problem at the core of "mechanism design" grounded in "rational self-interest." If you try to create a system where people do the right thing because they're selfish assholes, you normalize being a selfish asshole. Eventually, the selfish assholes form a cozy little League of Selfish Assholes and turn on the rest of us.

Appeals to morality don't work on unethical people, but appeals to immorality crowds out ethics. Take the ancient split between "free software" (software that is designed to maximize the freedom of the people who use it) and "open source software" (identical to free software, but promoted as a better way to make robust code through transparency and peer review).

Over the years, open source – an appeal to your own selfish need for better code – triumphed over free software, and its appeal to the ethics of a world of "software freedom." But it turns out that while the difference between "open" and "free" was once mere semantics, it's fully possible to decouple the two. Today, we have lots of "open source": you can see the code that Google, Microsoft, Apple and Facebook uses, and even contribute your labor to it for free. But you can't actually decide how the software you write works, because it all takes a loop through Google, Microsoft, Apple or Facebook's servers, and only those trillion-dollar tech monopolists have the software freedom to determine how those servers work:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/04/which-side-are-you-on/#tivoization-and-beyond

That's ruling class solidarity. The Big Tech firms have hidden a myriad of sins beneath their bafflegab and balance-sheets. These (as yet) undiscovered scams constitute a "bezzle," which JK Galbraith defined as "the magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it."

The purpose of Hunterbrook is to discover and destroy bezzles, hastening the moment of realization that the wealth we all feel in a world of seemingly orderly technology is really an illusion. Hunterbrook certainly has its pick of bezzles to choose from, because we are living in a Golden Age of the Bezzle.

Which is why I titled my new novel The Bezzle. It's a tale of high-tech finance scams, starring my two-fisted forensic accountant Marty Hench, and in this volume, Hench is called upon to unwind a predatory prison-tech scam that victimizes the most vulnerable people in America – our army of prisoners – and their families:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

The scheme I fictionalize in The Bezzle is very real. Prison-tech monopolists like Securus and Viapath bribe prison officials to abolish calls, in-person visits, mail and parcels, then they supply prisoners with "free" tablets where they pay hugely inflated rates to receive mail, speak to their families, and access ebooks, distance education and other electronic media:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/02/captive-customers/#guillotine-watch

But a group of activists have cornered these high-tech predators, run them to ground and driven them to the brink of extinction, and they've done it using "the master's tools" – with appeals to regulators and the finance sector itself.

Writing for The Appeal, Dana Floberg and Morgan Duckett describe the campaign they waged with Worth Rises to bankrupt the prison-tech sector:

https://theappeal.org/securus-bankruptcy-prison-telecom-industry/

Here's the headline figure: Securus is $1.8 billion in debt, and it has eight months to find a financier or it will go bust. What's more, all the creditors it might reasonably approach have rejected its overtures, and its bonds have been downrated to junk status. It's a dead duck.

Even better is how this happened. Securus's debt problems started with its acquisition, a leveraged buyout by Platinum Equity, who borrowed heavily against the firm and then looted it with bogus "management fees" that meant that the debt continued to grow, despite Securus's $700m in annual revenue from America's prisoners. Platinum was just the last in a long line of PE companies that loaded up Securus with debt and merged it with its competitors, who were also mortgaged to make profits for other private equity funds.

For years, Securus and Platinum were able to service their debt and roll it over when it came due. But after Worth Rises got NYC to pass a law making jail calls free, creditors started to back away from Securus. It's one thing for Securus to charge $18 for a local call from a prison when it's splitting the money with the city jail system. But when that $18 needs to be paid by the city, they're going to demand much lower prices. To make things worse for Securus, prison reformers got similar laws passed in San Francisco and in Connecticut.

Securus tried to outrun its problems by gobbling up one of its major rivals, Icsolutions, but Worth Rises and its coalition convinced regulators at the FCC to block the merger. Securus abandoned the deal:

https://worthrises.org/blogpost/securusmerger

Then, Worth Rises targeted Platinum Equity, going after the pension funds and other investors whose capital Platinum used to keep Securus going. The massive negative press campaign led to eight-figure disinvestments:

https://www.latimes.com/business/story/2019-09-05/la-fi-tom-gores-securus-prison-phone-mass-incarceration

Now, Securus's debt became "distressed," trading at $0.47 on the dollar. A brief, covid-fueled reprieve gave Securus a temporary lifeline, as prisoners' families were barred from in-person visits and had to pay Securus's rates to talk to their incarcerated loved ones. But after lockdown, Securus's troubles picked up right where they left off.

They targeted Platinum's founder, Tom Gores, who papered over his bloody fortune by styling himself as a philanthropist and sports-team owner. After a campaign by Worth Rises and Color of Change, Gores was kicked off the Los Angeles County Museum of Art board. When Gores tried to flip Securus to a SPAC – the same scam Trump pulled with Truth Social – the negative publicity about Securus's unsound morals and financials killed the deal:

https://twitter.com/WorthRises/status/1578034977828384769

Meanwhile, more states and cities are making prisoners' communications free, further worsening Securus's finances:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/14/minnesota-nice/#shitty-technology-adoption-curve

Congress passed the Martha Wright-Reed Just and Reasonable Communications Act, giving the FCC the power to regulate the price of federal prisoners' communications. Securus's debt prices tumbled further:

https://www.govtrack.us/congress/bills/117/s1541

Securus's debts were coming due: it owes $1.3b in 2024, and hundreds of millions more in 2025. Platinum has promised a $400m cash infusion, but that didn't sway S&P Global, a bond-rating agency that re-rated Securus's bonds as "CCC" (compare with "AAA"). Moody's concurred. Now, Securus is stuck selling junk-bonds:

https://www.govtrack.us/congress/bills/117/s1541

The company's creditors have given Securus an eight-month runway to find a new lender before they force it into bankruptcy. The company's debt is trading at $0.08 on the dollar.

Securus's major competitor is Viapath (prison tech is a duopoly). Viapath is also debt-burdened and desperate, thanks to a parallel campaign by Worth Rises, and has tried all of Securus's tricks, and failed:

https://pestakeholder.org/news/american-securities-fails-to-sell-prison-telecom-company-viapath/

Viapath's debts are due next year, and if Securus tanks, no one in their right mind will give Viapath a dime. They're the walking dead.

Worth Rise's brilliant guerrilla warfare against prison-tech and its private equity backers are a master class in using the master's tools to dismantle the master's house. The finance sector isn't a friend of justice or working people, but sometimes it can be used tactically against financialization itself. To paraphrase MLK, "finance can't make a corporation love you, but it can stop a corporation from destroying you."

Yes, the ruling class finds solidarity at the most unexpected moments, and yes, it's easy for appeals to greed to institutionalize greediness. But whether it's funding unbezzling journalism through short selling, or freeing prisons by brandishing their cooked balance-sheets in the faces of bond-rating agencies, there's a lot of good we can do on the way to dismantling the system.

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/2024/04/08/money-talks/#bullshit-walks

Image: KMJ (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Boerse_01_KMJ.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

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justawritterwithideas · 2 years ago

Text

law in pink | s.r

♡ next part ♡

summary: when the BAU needs an extra helping hand, Washington decides to send the best of the best, but what they didn't expect was to see... pink.

warnings: a bit of stereotypes, beyond that a bit of comedy and fluff. there may be mistakes in writing because I wrote it too fast :(

this story is spencer reid (season 7) x ssa elle woods!reader

words: 1,649 words.

a/n: elle woods from legally blonde comes to my mind constantly because is one of my favorite movies, so I wanted to make a mix called "ssa elle woods"; I hope you like it and you can understand the idea of reader as elle woods, I also hope I didn't portray it wrong and that it will be misunderstood T T

The BAU needed a hand with the rising crime wave, so, straight from Washington they sent the best of the best from their office.

And of course Penelope had to investigate.

According to her research, you had graduated from Harvard with honors and had given the honorary alumni speech at your class graduation. In addition, you were a part-time Harvard professor of Political Theory during the fall and part of a prolific group of researchers in your Washington office, which had the highest rate of successfully resolved cases in the last 5 years.

In addition, you had achieved on your LSAT a score of 179 out of 180 points.

Something inside Penelope reminded her a little of her friend, Spencer Reid, in you.

But what she didn't expect to see when she looked you up on the interwebs was the fashionista and family friendly life you had. The way your apartment was decorated with a pretty pink aesthetic, your outfits videos that reached millions of views and your day to day routines were the mantra of many girls, being all perfectly edited.

With that and more, anyone would think that your job was not to be a federal agent, but an influencer.

Penelope was already smelling perfume from her computer, and that made her more than eager to meet you.

It was seeing one just like her in front of her screen.

You were the perfect candidate to be her new best friend.

The clacking of your heels and the smell of your Chanel perfume filled the entire BAU office, causing the complicit glances of all the workers who were there.

"Have you seen Barbie yet?" "Is the model missing?" "What about her? Maybe she's a lost intern. First-timer problems."

Everyone was making comments you'd heard more than once in some police office, maybe it was the way you dressed didn't go along with the aesthetic they had or how feminine your attire might be, but that's who you were and for a couple of comments about your appearance and the stereotype they had they weren't going to sour your day.

"Excuse me, are you looking for someone?"

You turned to see a tall, dark man, who was watching your outfit from last season's Prada fit you to perfection.

"Oh! Finally someone nice." You commented with a smile. "Yes, I'm looking for Agent Aaron Hotchner."

"He's my boss, would you like help finding his office? I can help you."

"That would be great, thank you very much..."

"Agent Morgan, Derek Morgan."

"It's a pleasure, Agent Derek. I'm Y/N, nice to meet you."

You didn't like to introduce yourself officially as an agent, it made you look rather intimidating if you did, and that was what you didn't want.

It wasn't a long walk to the wooden door which was adorned by a plaque with the name of the person you were looking for.

"This is it, you come for a case? Any family members involved?"

"No, I'm coming to help. Thank you very much, by the way."

You gave him one last smile before knocking on the door, hearing a "pass" from inside.

"Who was the girl you were escorting, Derek?" Emily watched the man reach them, peering curiously inside Hotch's office.

"Her name is Y/N, she said she was coming to help, but... I don't know, she doesn't look like someone coming to help, maybe she's a witness."

Spencer's eyes scanned the situation, trying to conclude who the mystery woman inside his boss's office was about, but coming up with nothing on the spot. Like his friends, they were all searching for an answer to the abiding doubt in his head.

Who exactly was that girl and why had she said that? She didn't seem like a person whose job was an office job, but not one that was very risky either.

But before they could say anything, Aaron came out of the office with his ever-serious face.

"Meeting in 5" was the only thing he announced, so the group took heed and went to the place.

Once inside the office, Penelope found herself with her dear friends, who were trying to figure out the causes of the recent meeting.

"You don't know Pen either, do you?" J.J. was the first to speak.

"No idea, Hotch just asked me to be here."

"Just like everyone else." Rossi replied, settling around the round table with his coffee cup.

The conversation didn't last long when Hotch entered the boardroom.

"Good. I know there's no case yet or apparent reason to get them together first thing." Hotch began. "But as you may know, the last couple of months have seen an increase in crime for the BAU, which is exactly why we've been given extra funding to bring an extra agent onto the team."

Sounds of excitement came from everyone's mouths.

"So I've been contacting old colleagues, who recommended the best of the best. So they've transferred an agent from Washington to help us."

"Boy, they must be desperate." Derek's comment drew a few chuckles.

"I'd like to introduce you to the SSA, Y/N Woods."

Everyone's countenance changed to one of surprise when they saw you walk in, smiling in the friendliest way possible.

The same girl who looked like a model fresh off a runway was the newest member of the BAU.

"It's nice to meet you all, I hope we can work well together." You set your Prada bag to the side, being able to scan each of the members quickly.

"Woods, this is SSA Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, dr. Spencer Reid and our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia."

"Hey, I know you." You commented in the direction of Garcia, who was smiling politely. "You were the girl who commented on my recipe for the vegetarian tacos."

"Yes! They looked exquisite."

"Thank you very much, I hope they were helpful. We need to be a little more conscientious with our four-legged friends."

Spencer didn't know if he was dazzled by the whiteness of your teeth or the warm way you had entered into trust with Penelope with a simple recipe.

"Woods, Garcia. You'll have time to talk."

"I'm sorry, sir." They both replied at the same time.

"Fine, I'll go prepare the case, Garcia come with me."

They both walked out of the meeting room, leaving you alone with the rest of your new group of colleagues.

"I didn't know you were an agent." Derek was the first to break the silence surrounding them, causing you to turn in his direction.

"I didn't mean to mention it, I'm not a person who usually blurts it out just like that on the first interaction. You never know what kind of person a stranger is." You commented before you could look at him again. "No offense."

"No problem."

"From Washington, right?" Your gaze went to the blonde, who was watching from her position with a warm smile.

"That's right, even though I'm from California but I moved to Massachusetts after getting into Harvard, and then to Washington when I got an opening in the federal office there. So I'm from here, there and over there, but I'll always be a California gurl." A chuckle came out of your mouth after making a reference to the Katy Perry song, bringing your hands to your sides.

"Harvard? What did you study?" Spencer looked more and more interested.

"Law." You commented offhandedly. "I actually studied Fashion Merchandising at UCLA with a 4.0 GPA. But I wanted to prove myself and decided to get into Harvard Law."

"Switching from Fashion Merchandising at UCLA to Harvard Law is a big jump, how much did you get on your entrance exam?" Rossi asked.

"179."

Everyone's surprised face made an impression on you.

"What, like it's hard?" your eyelashes fluttered softly, before you remembered what you were holding as a "peace offering". "By the way, I made cookies yesterday for being the first day and making a good impression." Your hands went to your bag, pulling out a heart-shaped tupperware. "They're lavender and butter, it's a recipe I read on a fairly well known blog forum, they say Paris Hilton gets her recipes from there."

You held out the tupper to each of them to take out a cookie, leaving it on the table in case they liked to take out more.

"If they like more, just pull out. There's enough for everyone." A little smile tugged at your mouth. But before you heard any response from either person, the catchy ringtone of Gwen Stefani's "Rich Girl" interrupted any culinary criticism. "Excuse me..." Your hand went for your phone, which didn't surprise others by being pink, and you left the room letting out a "Woods" as you answered.

"This is new." Derek said.

"And delicious." Emily took another bite of her cookie.

"She's different than what we usually know." Rossi looked at the rest, taking a second cookie out of the tupper. "But I don't mind at all, in fact, I think new always comes in good."

"True, it's always good to have someone new and with a different vibe."

The group turned to look at Reid, who was holding the cookie with his right hand. The young man wasn't usually one to blurt out a comment, just like that, least of all referring to a girl.

"Oh kid, you find her attractive." Derek was the first to smile in amusement.

"What, no." The voice in a higher pitched tone than normal was what gave Spencer away.

"Spencer likes Y/N." J.J annoyed, walking out of the office laughing along with Emily.

"That's not true!"

"See ya, lover boy." Derek commented along with Rossi, who was gently patting his shoulder with a knowing smile.

And so it was that Spencer was left in the meeting room with his cheeks as pink as his new co-worker's heels.

♡ next part ♡

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fanfic #blurb #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid x elle woods!reader #legally blonde is superior #alme was here!

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mrs-saturday · 4 months ago

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♡ OP81 Fluff Headcanons

♥ my masterlist!

♥ pairing: Oscar Piastri x Reader

♥ synopsis: some fluffy OP81 HCs for my pastry girls

♥ warnings: brief suggestive mention

♥ a/n: Needed to start feeding the OP81 babes so here's my HCs about Kimi Raikkonen 2.0

♡ Oscar will never beat the polite cat allegations, especially around you, he can’t help but hold doors, take your coat and pull out your chair

୨୧ and SHOES, everytime you go out, Oscar makes sure there is a pair of flats on hand, and always offers to tie your sneakers, even in the middle of a busy street

♡ Contrary to popular belief, he likes a good photo, especially with his lady. Oscar has a whole album in his camera roll dedicated to selfies of the pair of you.

୨୧ Oscar drives, all the time, he’s just too scared you’re gonna smash his car into a bollard one day (plus, he likes you getting all cosy in the front seat on a long drive)

♡ his glove box is FULL of your stuff; lip glosses, nail files, setting powder. He did his research (snooped though your handbag) to find out exactly what you needed

୨୧ Osc gets super emotional sometimes, only ever behind closed doors. He’s the new Kimi to the cameras, but to you? He’s George Russell crying after scoring points in a tractor Williams.

♡ Nicole is the sweetest mama-in-law, and ALWAYS backs you up in a disagreement with Osc (not that those happen often, but girls supporting girls right?)

୨୧ The man really wants a baby, like, every time he visits family with babies, he pulls little puppy dog eyes at you. He can imagine how beautiful you’d look carrying his child and it always brings him joy (and a bit of a hard-on imagining the process)

♡ He’d propose with a family heirloom, for sure. Sentimental is his way to go

୨୧ And sentimental he is. He keeps all your wedding photo albums on the coffee table, and REGULARLY spends evening flicking through them and swooning at “his beautiful gorgeous amazing wife”

♡ You are saved in his phone as “Mrs. Piastri” and you have him saved as “Baby Iceman” (true love right here)

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one #formula 1 #f1 fic #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #op81 fluff #op81 x reader #op81 #op81 imagine #op81 fic #hungary gp 2024 #mclaren

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missaengg · 1 month ago

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Gojo F*xxing Satoru

Day 12 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Jujutsu Kaisen | Gojo Satoru x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, fluff, first time, virginity loss, big dick, cunnilingus, p in v sex, alternate universe - grad school, porn with some plot Prompts: First Times | "Where do you want me to cum?" A/N: How did this take me two and a half days to write?!?! Slightly off schedule for the rest of Kinktober, but will probably skip a few prompt days to even this out. May circle back after October 31 to finish any missing prompts, but we shall see :) ao3 link here.

Gojo Satoru was the bane of your existence.

Literally the bane of your fucking existence.

Because he was fucking perfect.

It was aggravating just how perfect he was: born to a wealthy family, star athlete, valedictorian, scouted by the top law firms in the country, all without breaking a sweat. Gojo Satoru had everything, the money, the jobs, the grades, the looks… the women.

It was disgusting how many women threw themselves at him, not that you could blame them. Not really. If you were anybody else, but you, you’d probably throw yourself at him too.

But you weren’t just anybody else. You were the perpetual number two. The salutatorian. No matter how hard you tried, how hard you studied, how hard you persevered, you could never hold a candle to Gojo fucking Satoru, not even in a mock courtroom arguing for or against a case.

So it was absolutely baffling when Gojo Satoru started pestering you. Out of all the women at Jujutsu Law College, the most prestigious law school in the country, which you worked your butt off to get into, you.

At first you thought it was just a coincidence. You attended the same law school. You had a fair number of shared courses. It was only logical you would interact with one another at some point during your grad school career, but then it became frequent, a multiple-times-a-day daily occurrence. You went to lunch in the school cafeteria – never on a fixed schedule… bam, Satoru… you went to the gym after a full day of classes to work out… bam, Satoru… you went to the gym mid-day because you had a free period – when you knew for a fact Gojo Satoru had class… bam, Satoru… you started the only internship offered to you at some small, no-name law firm… bam, Satoru.

It was getting to the point that you actually thought he might be stalking you with how frequently you ran into him around campus, off campus, way you-need-a-fucking-car-to-get-to off campus. It was uncanny and disturbing.

And of course every time you ran into him, he would relentlessly tease you with that ridiculous smirk of his, calling out to you as soon as he spotted you with his infuriating, “Yo, salutatorian” or “Yo, number two”, beelining towards you to brag about how he scored higher than you in Torts or Corporate Law or whatever other course you shared with him, ruffling your hair or resting his arm on the top of your head because, of fucking course, he was also freakishly tall.

Seriously, how could one person be so goddamn perfect?

It was one of those nights, when you were out with your best friend of two decades and fellow law school classmate, Ieiri Shoko, at some obscure, dingy bar that offered Thursday, ladies only, one dollar beers, where you again happened to see Gojo fucking Satoru striding in with his shock of unruly white hair, those stupid dorky sunglasses he wore all the goddamn time, and his usual expensive, brand name, black bomber jacket over a pristine white T-shirt.

You caught him in your peripheral, groaning as you saw his face light up when he caught a glimpse of you, making his way over easily through the crowd, which parted like the red fucking sea for him, that shit-eating grin plastered devilishly on his stupid handsome face.

“Oh, shit. Isn’t that Gojo?” Shoko asked, poking you incessantly.

You irritably sighed, swatting Shoko’s hand away. “Yes,” you replied flatly, glowering at your beer, your hopes of one fucking day without seeing your academic rival dashed to pieces.

“Yo, number two!”

God fucking damnit.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“I should be saying the same to you,” you muttered darkly into your beer.

“Yo, Ieiri.”

“Hi, Gojo.” Shoko greeted him, but you knew her well enough to hear the squeal of excitement hidden under the smooth facade of her greeting.

You didn’t have to see Shoko’s face to know how brightly her eyes were shining, trying to catch yours subtly without giving herself away. You downed the rest of your beer, knowing you were going to need another one – or four – to deal with Gojo Satoru’s shit tonight.

“Whatcha drinking?”

You almost spat out your beer. Gojo’s face loomed right in front of yours, so close you could make out the black specks in his brilliant clear blue eyes peering at you over his sunglasses.

“What the fuck, Gojo?!” you choked out, coughing, having swallowed the beer before you sprayed him, but having swallowed so quickly a portion of it went down the wrong tube.

“Satoru.”

“Gojo,” you stressed, pushing his forehead back with your finger, “do you mind?”

“Satoru.” He pouted, but thankfully withdrew. “Whatcha drinking?”

“Pilsners,” Shoko interjected, not fully understanding what exactly was happening between the two of you, but understanding enough to be amused.

“I got next round.”

You exhaled as you watched him walk away.

When did you even start holding your breath?

“So…”

“Don’t.” You glared at Shoko, who had the most sly, impish twinkle in her eye, warning her not to continue.

“What’s going on with you and Gojo?”

You sighed heavily, a regular occurrence whenever Gojo Satoru was involved, bringing your glass to your lips, grimacing when you remembered you were out of alcohol. “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“Shoko…”

Shoko looked at you innocently, shrugging as if she had no idea what you were going on about. “I’m just saying… it looks like he’s flirting with you.”

You snorted. Flirting with you. Hilarious.

“He’s not flirting with me. He’s torturing me. Rubbing in my face how I’m just ‘number two’.”

“Mm… that’s not what it seems like to me. You don’t buy beers for someone you’re torturing.”

“You do if you’re flaunting your wealth,” you darkly quipped.

“At some dingy bar on one dollar beer night? Yeah, big spender.”

You massaged your temples with your middle finger and thumb. “Shoko, can we not?”

“Fine.” Shoko threw up her hands, backing off albeit reluctantly. “I’m just saying. You don’t treat someone like that unless you like them”

You scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Gojo Satoru liking you? Please. There was no way Gojo Satoru had a crush on you. That was ridiculous. He had a majority of the women at Jujutsu Law College falling over their feet for him, why would he want you?

Not that you wanted him either.

Something cold pressed against your cheek.

“Pilsner for my salutatorian?”

Gojo Satoru was holding a new, full pint of beer up against the side of your face. Scowling not-so-subtly, you reached for the glass. While you were loath to accept something from Gojo Satoru, beer was beer, and it would be a crime not to drink it.

And god could you use it.

“Ah, shit,” Shoko suddenly exclaimed. “I forgot I had a thing.”

You frowned. “Thing? What thing?”

“The thing.” Shoko gestured with her hands. “The thing I told you about. The thing.”

You stared at her, confused as to what she was going on about. “What thing? You’re the one who wanted to come out tonight.”

Shoko pulled on her jacket, gathering her phone and her purse. “I gotta go. Gotta go do the thing.”

“What– You’re leaving me on my own in some dingy ass bar?” You narrowed your eyes at her accusingly, fairly certain that she did not actually have a thing that she needed to attend to.

Shoko gave you a lopsided grin. “But you’re not alone. You’ve got Gojo.” She turned to the freakishly tall, laidback individual beside you. “You’ll make sure she gets home, yeah?”

“Of course.”

“Great.” Shoko hugged you, bringing her mouth to your ear. “Have fun.” She pulled away, giving you a wicked grin and a wink, leaving you gaping after her as she disappeared into the crowd.

What the fuck just happened?

Did Shoko seriously just abandon you, leaving you alone with Gojo fucking Satoru in some bar?

You chugged your beer, finishing it in record time before Gojo Satoru even had a chance to start drinking his.

“Uh… You sure you can handle that?”

He was observing you, his arrogant smirk still present, his own glass halfway to his lips, but there was a hint of something else, something unfamiliar and foreign, something… soft?

No, not soft. Knowing him, it was probably something condescending like pity or belittlement.

“I can handle it,” you snapped, and eyeing the second beer in his other hand, you added, “Is that Shoko’s beer? You gonna drink it?”

You reached for the extra beer, but he held it above his head, way out of your reach.

“Nuh uh. I don’t think you can handle it, lightweight.”

He was looking down his perfect, chiseled nose at you, the taunt blatantly apparent on his face, mocking you.

“Believe it or not, Gojo, I can handle my alcohol so will you please…” you stood on your toes swiping for the beer, “... just give…” you jumped, “...me the goddamn…” another swipe, “...beer!”

You lightly panted, having failed to procure the beer you wanted from above his head.

Seriously, how was he so fucking tall?

Even on the very tip of your toes, the top of your head barely came to his chin

“Satoru.”

Exasperated, you lost it, yowling like a feral cat, your brows knitting together, creating deep, firm grooves on your forehead. “What. Does. It. Matter?”

Gojo finished his beer, placed the glass down on a nearby table, and then flicked you square in the forehead.

“Ow!” you yelped, rubbing furiously at the red mark you were sure was growing above your brow. “What the hell, Gojo?”

Gojo sighed. “Sa–to–ru. And it matters to me.” He ruffled your hair, turning your carefully blow dried curls into a tangled mess.

You dodged his hand, glaring at him. “You don’t tell Shoko to call you Satoru.”

“Ieiri’s not you.”

Scowling, you brushed your fingers through your hair, trying to undo some of the knots he created. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it means.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense, you’re the thick one for not getting it.”

Gojo brought Shoko’s beer – your beer – to his lips, downing the entire pint in three large gulps.

Watching his Adam's apple bob up and down, something in you finally snapped, all the moments of him relentlessly taunting you about being second place, teasing you about how short you were, stalking you around campus, one-upping you in mock court runs, all erupting into an explosion of something downright deranged.

“Gojo–”

“Satoru.”

“Gojo, for the love of god, shut up.”

You grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, and with as much strength as you could muster, hauled him towards you crashing his lips down onto yours. Gojo froze for a second, stunned, before pushing back, lips moving against yours with a hungry intensity. His tongue darted along the crevasse between your closed lips demanding to be let in, and you acceded, parting your mouth for him to slip in. The kisses deepened, your fingers curling even tighter around the fabric of his jacket, breathless sighs escaping in between kisses. Somewhere in the torrent of kisses, his sunglasses came off and his hands found themselves twisted in your hair, intertwining your curls between his fingers.

Breaking for air, you released your hold on Gojo’s jacket, rocking back on your heels and pulling away, keeping your eyes averted towards the ground.

Fuck. Just… fuck. What the fuck have you done?

Biting back a self-deprecating groan, you closed your eyes, taking a shaky deep breath in and letting it out slowly.

“Gojo,” you hesitantly started, threading your fingers together, for the first time in your life, not quite sure what you wanted to say to him. None of your bravado remained. All you knew was that you would have to see him again on Monday in class, and the last thing you needed was for things to be awkward or for him to hold whatever this was over your head.

“It’s Satoru.”

Your eyes snapped to Gojo’s as he spoke. There was a forceful edge to his husky voice, a commanding presence, one that he rarely displayed outside of the courtroom. Your breath hitched at the way he was just staring at you, his eyes dark and turbulent, storming with need and want.

“Sa–” you cleared your throat, the feel of his first name foreign in your mouth, “Satoru.”

Satoru acknowledged you with a hum of approval, the corners of his lips flicking up into the start of what could be a smile.

Your mouth felt parched. You were shivering at how intensely he was staring at you, at how his hypnotizing cerulean eyes were reeling you in, mesmerizing you until everything other than the infuriating man in front you faded away.

He grazed his lips along the outline of your shoulder and up your neck until they reached your ear, electric tingles crawling from where he touched, jolting down your spine. “You wanna get outta here?”

You nodded slowly. Your mind was hazy and dazed, drowning in Satoru’s eyes, barely able to put together a single intelligent thought to save your life.

How have you never noticed just how gorgeously blue his eyes were before?

“Come on.”

Satoru took your hand, interlocking your fingers between his. Your hand felt so small in his hand, cradled in his broad palm, his body heat radiating up your arm.

The tension between the two of you was thick and supercharged, heavy and tumultuous, on the verge of a catastrophic eruption – coming out of the bar, in the taxi ride back to your apartment, in the elevator going up to your floor, down the hallway to the door of your unit, as you input your code into the lock and the door clicked open.

When the door opened, it was like a switch flipped in Satoru’s brain. His lips were on you faster than you could react, tasting you with his tongue, nibbling on your bottom lip. His dizzying onslaught of kisses came so rapidly, you barely had the presence of mind to make sure you closed your front door and locked it before stumbling through the foyer, wrapped in his embrace.

Keeping his lips locked with yours, he fumbled to remove his jacket, yanking his arms out of the sleeves, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. Your fingers teased the hem of his shirt, slipping under and feeling his muscles ripple under your fingertips, feeling for the first time just how lean he was.

Holy fuck.

You knew he was muscular. You’d seen him engaging in casual sports with other members of your law class, seen the hem of his shirt ride up when he raised his arms or wiped his face, but feeling it for yourself was different than just catching accidental hints.

Feeling your hands grabbing at his torso, Satoru tugged his shirt off, also throwing it to some random corner of your apartment.

“Where’s the… bedroom?” Satoru murmured in between kisses, tugging at your waist, grabbing a handful of your hair.

You burst into laughter, continuing to kiss him as you shook against his chest. “Satoru, I live in a studio.” Maneuvering him towards the wall, you flipped the switch flooding the room with light.

Satoru blinked, squinting as his eyes re-adjusted to the light, pausing from his titillating ravishment of your lips to quickly survey the small room you called your home.

“My bed’s over there,” you whispered, guiding his chin in the direction of your modest double-sized bed.

Satoru hiked you up without warning, forcing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist, an unexpected yelp squeaking out. He strode over to the bed, covering the distance quickly given how long his legs were, and tumbled onto the soft mattress with you still in his arms, beginning another dizzying wave of an unyielding assault of his lips, but this time they roamed down your neck, along your collarbone, planting themselves on every inch of exposed skin he could reach.

His lips were like fire on your skin.

Your legs were hooked around his thighs, and your hips ground into him every time he lit another part of you on fire, evoking small groans from Satoru.

“Take my shirt off,” you breathlessly moaned into him, wanting to feel his body heat burn against your bare skin.

Satoru was only happy to oblige, removing himself from you only long enough to pull both your shirt and bralette over your head and to admire your heaving chest. He cupped them in his large hands, planting his needy mouth over your pert nipple.

Ah, fuck.

An electric zing ripped through you when he rolled your sensitive peak gently with his teeth.

Oh heavenly fuck.

His hands were kneading, pinching, squeezing, while his mouth was pulling, biting, sucking, and the combination had you writhing in his hands. Your hips were gyrating into the firm bulge in his jeans, the friction against your pelvis delectable.

“Fuck, saluta–”

“You know my name, Satoru.”

Satoru groaned your name, a shaky growl on the edge of the last syllable, shuddering when your hips jerked and painfully dragged along the length of his clothed erection. “Fuck, I wanna taste you.” He reached for the waist of your tight jeans, undoing the button quickly, pulling down the zipper, sliding his hand under the fabric.

Your eyes, which were closed in euphoria, snapped open, and in a panic, you grabbed his wrist before he could delve even further.

“Wait.”

Satoru stopped. He looked up from where he had just been worshiping your chest, brows furrowed with concern. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s–” You bit your lip, the words sitting heavily in your throat.

“What’s wrong?” Satoru propped himself up higher, the hand on your stomach rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

“I’ve…” you took in a shaky breath, “I’ve…”

Supporting himself on one forearm, Satoru cupped your cheek, his gorgeous, azure blue eyes peering down at you softly. “What is it?”

You swallowed, finding yourself drowning in those stupid eyes again, your stomach in knots from the anxiety of the words you were about to say. “I’ve… never done this before.”

His brows wrinkled, not following what you were trying to convey. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never done–” you gestured to his lap “–this before.”

“I don’t under–” Satoru’s eyes widened, the meaning of your words hitting him. “Oh… Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You felt yourself blush seeing his reaction to your admission. You chewed on your bottom lip, anxiously wanting him to say something. Anything. You had never admitted this to anyone before, not even Shoko, though she likely already knew that you were still a virgin. She did have a front row seat to all of your sparse romantic entanglements.

Gojo Satoru for the first time in all the time you’d known him was silent.

“S’toru?” you hesitantly asked, prodding the stunned man hovering above you.

He blinked, coming out of whatever trance he was in, an expression you couldn’t read crossing his face. “We can stop if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

“You sure?”

You nodded, holding your breath.

“You’ve had a couple of drinks, I don’t think–”

You scoffed. “Satoru, I’m not drunk, let alone tipsy.”

“I– Are you sure?”

You looked straight into his eyes. “Yes. I want to do this.”

In all the years of wondering when and how you would lose your virginity, you never imagined it would be like this. With him. But you did want this. Badly. You wanted him right here, right now, virginity and rivalry be damned.

“You won’t regret this?”

Jesus Christ, even when he was tender he was infuriating.

You threw your head back, a long, drawn-out, frustrated groan exploding out of you. “Oh my god, Go– Satoru, no, I will not regret this. Will you please just fuck me?”

Satoru blinked, and then he was capturing you in a passionate, toe-curling kiss, caressing your cheek. He sat upright, sliding the last remaining articles of your clothing down your legs, grazing you softly with his fingertips, and then he sat there, mouth open, drinking in the sight of you under him.

“Satoru?”

“Uh, yeah, gotta… gotta get you ready for me.” He gave you a lopsided grin, and gently palming your thighs, settled in between your legs, quietly groaning as he inhaled your scent. He pressed a murmur of a kiss on your clit, and sensing the nervous tension in your thighs, he squeezed them reassuringly. “You gotta relax.”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

You clicked your tongue. Smart ass.

But his quip didn’t hold his usual teasing sass, and you focused on releasing the tension in your tight muscles. Which, as you found out, turned out to be easy. Because you turned into jelly the moment Satoru ran his tongue along your slit and up to your clit.

You sharply gasped. You might be a virgin, but you weren’t a stranger to pleasure having learned how to stimulate yourself with your fingers and the occasional toy, but this…

You arched your back as he flicked the tip of his tongue over your swollen, sensitive bud.

This was nothing compared to how you satiated yourself alone in your bed at night on those occasional moments you needed release.

This was bliss.

You felt him snicker against your cunt. “So wet for me…”

You had half a mind to swat at his head, but he sucked down hard, and whatever thoughts you had of wanting to slap him flew out of your head, reacting to his sinful mouth by twisting your hands in his unruly hair instead. He grunted when you inadvertently pushed him in closer, your thighs clamping against the sides of his head, hips bucking up with each jolt of electricity buzzing through your center.

“Goddamn, girl.” But he didn’t let go, continuing to devour your quivering cunt with the desperation of a man deprived. “So fucking wet.”

You squirmed, the sensation of him mouthing you, lapping at your folds, circling the entrance of your pussy, spinning into an intense whirlwind.

“That’s it,” Satoru instructed, feeling how your muscles were clenching and releasing rapidly. “Let go. Cum for me.”

Everything within you pulled taut, tightening into a pressure cooker of overwhelming ecstasy, bursting violently in an explosion of strangled cries moaning Satoru’s name, your back lurching off your bed, stars swimming in your blackened vision.

And as the explosion roiled through your trembling body, Satoru continued to tantalize every inch of you between your thighs, firmly holding your erratically bucking hips in place, until you softened into a quivering mess.

“Geez, number two, didn’t know you could scream like that.” Satoru smugly smirked, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand.

“Don’t call me that,” you mumbled, flushing from the embarrassment of how hard you just unraveled for him. “Aren’t you a little too dressed to fuck me?”

“Want me that badly, huh?”

But the speed at which he kicked off his own jeans and briefs betrayed how much he needed to be buried deep inside you.

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when he sprang free.

It wasn’t as if you’d seen many dicks in your life outside of movies or TV, but fuck… Satoru wasn’t just big… He was big. The man was fucking blessed.

Without meaning to, you whimpered, your stare fixated on his blessed appendage, wondering how the hell it was going to fit into your virgin cunt.

“That’s not going to fit.”

“I’ll go slow, don’t worry.”

Your eyes flickered from his dick to his surprisingly gentle face, a grimace of distrust written all over yours. “Satoru, you’re too big, I–”

“Sweets,” Satoru calmly said, gazing gently into your eyes with assurance. “It might hurt a bit, but I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

You swallowed thickly, but you nodded. Satoru smiled, a genuine smile absent of any teasing, and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Let me know if you need to stop.”

Another nod.

Satoru positioned himself at your entrance, sliding the remnants of your climax along his erection. He pushed gently, slowly sinking his tip in past the tight entrance.

You hissed, the sudden sensation of yourself stretching to accommodate him deliriously painful in the best way. Satoru waited patiently for you to adjust to him, and when you relaxed, he painstakingly slowly pushed further in, inch by inch.

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” you rasped.

Satoru was shaking, the exertion of holding himself up not to crush you, controlling himself to sink in slowly, forcing him to hold a static position for a prolonged period of time. He was concentrating so hard, the tip of his tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth.

Had Satoru always been this adorable?

Or maybe his dick was just that magical, making you think the most infuriating man alive on this planet was adorable.

Satoru sank in another inch. You groaned. He was stretching you out, dragging along your walls as he sank in, filling you to a fullness you didn’t even know existed.

“Are you not in yet?”

Satoru paused, letting out the most indignant exhale of air. “Are you serious right now?”

You stifled a giggle, but you weren’t trying to be silly. It was sweet how Satoru was taking his time for you, but you wanted to feel him, buried to the hilt, filling you overwhelmingly so that he was all you could think about.

Fuck it.

You wrapped your legs around his waist tightly, hurling his hips into yours for the last couple of inches.

Satoru swore under his breath, but you barely heard him. That last forceful push in meant his tip barreled into your cervix, and fuck… fuck, did that hurt.

Tears welled in your eyes from the dull ache throbbing in your lower belly.

Satoru brushed your hair back, keeping his hips as still as he possibly could. “Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed. “Breathe, breathe.”

A tear slid down your cheek, which Satoru wiped away. You gasped, breathing heavily as you waited for the ache to dissipate, focusing on the air entering your lungs and exiting through your mouth.

“Why’d you do that? Should’ve let me handle it,” Satoru fussed, rubbing soothing circles in your skin and placing gentle kisses on your cheeks.

“I wanted to feel you,” you wheezed, feeling like a downright idiot, but also pleased with how fully buried he was in your warmth. “But you’re too fucking big.”

“Tch… silly girl,” Satoru grumbled, but the corners of his mouth twisted upwards. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to start moving now, is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

Satoru brushed his lips on your forehead where he flicked it earlier that night, and without taking his eyes off of you, started with tiny, slow thrusts. He was barely moving, but even his tiny thrusts were sinfully divine. You rolled your hips with his, wanting more.

“Fuck,” Satoru hissed. “I can’t hold back if you squeeze me that tight.”

“Don’t.”

Satoru broke. He laced his hand with yours holding it tightly above your head, and drove into you frenetically, nuzzling his mouth into the crook of your neck, nipping the soft skin. The heat between your writhing bodies all-consuming, a blazing inferno caught in the dizzying tornado of passion.

You clung to him, deep, thready moans tumbling from your lush, parted lips.

“Satoru…”

“Keep saying my name.”

You whispered his name, the pressure of him moving inside you filling you with a torrential flood of euphoric sensations, reducing you to a puddle of whimpers under his powerful, frantic thrusts. His strokes were unbearably hot, waves of searing pleasure overtaking you, receding and building, incensed by the obscene grunts escaping him.

“I– fuck.” Satoru bit your shoulder hard, growling unrestrained, primal. “Where do you want me to cum?”

It was a bad idea. It was quite possibly one of the worst ideas you’ve had in a while, but it didn’t matter, you wanted to feel him, you wanted him to claim you as his, you wanted him to mark you with his animalistic need.

“In– inside…”

Satoru let out a long maddening moan, so full of his desire, pouring into you in a frenzy, you hit your peak, pulsating around him desperately, unraveling at the sensation of his burning cum coating you inside in erratic bursts.

The two of you shook against one another, heaving as the cloud of ecstasy receded and your breaths calmed to normal. Satoru slumped to his side, pulling you into his chest, pressing a light kiss to your temple.

He chuckled, still wrapped in the hazy aftermath of your shared bliss. “I’ve wanted to do that forever.”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Geez, miss number two,” he grinned down at you, “do I really gotta spell it out for you? Thought you were smarter than that.”

“Don’t call me that,” you retorted. “Spell what out for me?”

Satoru grumbled something you couldn’t quite catch, yelping when you pinched his side, but wrapped his arms around you even tighter, sighing. “It means, I’ve had a crush on you since last year.”

Oh… Your eyes bugged when it sank in. Oh.

Gojo fucking Satoru had a crush on you.

You.

Out of all the women you knew he could choose from…

You.

Your face grew uncomfortably hot. Embarrassed, you buried your face in his chest. You felt Satoru shift, squirming at your silence.

“Say something, will ya? Before this gets more awkward?”

You bit back a groan. “I–” Fuck, you weren’t ready for this. “I think… I think I like you too,” and because you were so embarrassed and upset with how fucking smooth he was, you added, “when you’re not pissing me off.”

Satoru snickered. “So, like we dating now or what?”

“I– I guess?”

“What do you mean by I guess?”

Satoru sounded downright offended. Cute.

“Yes, we’re dating,” you clarified, grumbling that he was making you spell it out for him. “Especially if I get your magical dick all to myself.”

“Magical dick, huh?” Satoru chuckled. “So, miss number two–”

“You really need to stop calling me number two.”

This whole thing was madness. God, Gojo Satoru drove you fucking insane. In more ways than one.

“What should I call you then?”

Brat.

You rolled your eyes. “How about just my name?”

Satoru hummed, the gears in his head turning. “I know, I’ll call you my number one.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he craned down to meet your eyes, glittering with a mischievous sparkle, “you’re number one in my heart.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Ugh. Fucking Gojo Satoru.

Feeling your blush deepen, you buried yourself into his chest again, rubbing into the space between his pecs ferociously. “You’re so fucking cheesy, S’toru.”

“Admit it, you fucking love it.”

You knew that tone of voice. It was the one that came out when he had that adorable boyish grin on his face.

“No,” you grumbled.

But you did. You fucking loved it.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

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moonydustx · 2 months ago

Text

response to this request @i0fty I loved your request (I have a thing for writing hurt/comfort and angst). I really hope you like it. I wrote it as f!reader, but I can adjust it if I want

warnings: F!Reader is attacked, mention of celestial dragons, Law and she have feelings for each other and it's obvious, Law saves F!Reader

one piece masterlist

----

As soon as you set foot on that island, you knew there was something strange, something that sent a chill down your spine. It would be a short break to stock up on some emergency supplies and head towards the next island, which was larger and would have more interesting information for your crew.

Even so, some crewmates and your captain, Law, disembarked next to you.

"So, do you need a lot of things?" Law tried to make conversation, seeing you take a small map out of your pocket and point to something he could barely understand.

"I needed some lemongrass herbs. I saw they sell them here, but they are expensive, however, given the climate of this island I think I can find some in this green area." You explained, seeing him nod and hand you a few more berris.

"Don't go far, it might not be safe. If you can find something to buy, buy it" he insisted, seeing you look around, apparently suspicious. "What it was?"

"Do you feel something strange in the air?" you asked and saw him repeat your gesture of checking the surrounding environment.

"Some residents seem a little scared." Shachi who had also disembarked scored.

"It could be our imagination, as well as some confusion that happened. Which would be a great attraction for the marine." Law explained as you walked behind him. "Be careful and don't get into any kind of trouble."

"Yes captain." even in uncoordinated unison, you responded together.

"And you, what are you going to explore?" you asked Law as the others scattered. "Not that there's much to do."

"Do you remember that old book about spirit hunters that you mentioned? I saw that there might be a copy around here."

"Bullshit! Are you going to buy it?" Law laughed lightly, almost imperceptibly when he saw your excitement.

"Just don't tell Bepo, he'll say I have favoritism in the crew." the captain pointed out. "If you finish early, meet me at the bookstore. It should be easy to find, I don't think there are many around here."

The promise of meeting him later made you excited. Your relationship with the captain was something different from your relationship with others - you shared games, reading and conversations until late at night. Sometimes, it was as if the two of you were in a little world of your own.

You even tried to use the money provided by Law but, in addition to being insufficient, the little shop had strange looks from all sides. The feeling on that island was of being spied on with every step taken, with every interaction.

Moving away from the small shopping center and without even entering the small forest that almost annexes the city, you found some bushes that you needed. It was simple to harvest them and tie them in a way to transport them without losing any leaves.

Before you could stand up and continue your journey to the bookstore, you felt something against your neck, but you were able to dodge it and roll to the other side. Finally standing up, she could see two men staring at you.

"I'm sorry, lady, but we have orders to take you." one of them warned and you bent down to reach the knife you had used to harvest, unfortunately not fast enough to feel something burn in your hand.

"What the fuck… You know what? I'm going to kill you" you left things aside and went out to fight them.

Even using everything you knew about fighting, trying to use all the blows that came to your mind, you still ended up getting hit more times, some of the blows you barely understood where they were coming from.

"What do you want with me?!" you shouted once again, being ignored.

The metallic taste on your lips indicated that the attack you suffered had been much stronger than you expected. Both the desire to fight and the fear itself caused your adrenaline to skyrocket, leaving you alert to any movement from the two men.

"You should save your efforts." one of them emphasized, the handcuffs on his hands made an annoying noise as they clashed together. "They will need you at full strength."

"And it's not like you're going to win alone." the other completed, stretching out the whip and hitting your arm squarely.

The sensation was something like an unexpected burn, but it wouldn't stop you from fighting, from returning to where you really belonged. Standing up, you advanced towards the shorter man, landing a few punches, enough for him to stagger a little and give you space to escape.

At least that's what you thought until you felt someone pull you back and the click of the handcuffs awakened your despair. No, you couldn't let yourself get carried away like that. How would your friends be? Would they ever see you serving as a doormat for one of those damned celestials?

"This is an aggressive one, just like they asked for." the man pressed his body to yours, in order to speak in your ear. "The guys up there, the big celestial dragons will like a piece like you. They'll hunt you, they'll hurt you and I'll get rich."

No matter how much you struggled, his grip grew even stronger against your body, while the other man got closer to try to cover your face. Perhaps desperation had prevented you from noticing some things around you, awareness hit you completely when the aggressive grip around your body became a gentle, almost protective touch. His voice hit you before your own perception.

"It's ok, I'm here now." Law let his hands run down your arms and he advanced towards the other man.

In another situation, Law would have fun tearing those bodies into pieces and watching them try to reorganize themselves. But this time it was different.

They had messed with one of his crew members, an intelligent aspiring doctor, who would know how to use any and all plants to her advantage, who was great at playing chess and had read a good part of Sora's stories - even if the last ones were by his invitation. She was the girl who laughed at anything while dying of shyness when someone pointed out an adjective to her. She was the girl he dreamed of getting some attention, but her scared eyes indicated that those bastards had hurt her and he couldn't let that go.

The first man - who Law hadn't changed places to reach you - soon fell to the ground, clearly unconscious.

"Where's the other one?" your voice was exasperated, as your eyes tried to hunt the other guy through some trees.

"Shachi and Penguin already took care of him." Law pointed out while looking for keys to the handcuff.

"W-we need ... W-we need to check!" the way your voice sounded urgent alerted Law, forcing him to get closer to you. "He can get help, they have whips and…"

"Hey!" He tried to call you, not having much success. When his hands found your face, Law saw you flinch. "Look at me, Shachi and Penguin already took care of this… Look at me!" he pulled your face back, seeing you want to dodge.

"But… T-they had whips... and handcuffs and they were going to t-take me to the c-celestial dragons." the words stumbled as they left your lips.

"They won't, I would never let them." Law insisted, seeing you nod, even though he knew the words wouldn't truly reach you.

"Let's go back to Polar Tang, what do you think?" he suggested and saw you nod practically in slow motion and remain silent.

As quickly as Law had transported you back to the submarine, the thoughts were faster than you could express.

It was difficult to process some things, you still had a hard time accepting that there were people who felt so superior to others that they chose random people to be hunted. You had heard of it, but you always thought of it as something far away from you, that it was just a scary story that would stay far away.

But there you were, feeling your wounds being cleaned by careful hands, extremely contrary to what you had felt just now.

"Please…" Law's voice came out almost like a sigh. "I need you to say something."

"What do you need?" Your eyes watched as Law left the tweezers with the cotton on the small tray next to him.

"You're too immersed in your own mind and I can tell you that's not a good thing." he explained and saw you rambling again, it was clear that something was wrong. "Please don't think just talk to me."

"I thought everything was lost, you know?" you began, feeling your eyes sting with tears. "I've never felt so scared."

"I told you, I would never let that happen." Law didn't hesitate as he ran his hand over your face, brushing away some tears that insisted on coming out. "And I promise this won't happen again."

"You're the captain, you have more things to worry about." a weak, almost inaudible laugh came out of you. "Do I really matter that much?"

"Much more than you think." he pointed out and saw you smile shyly. "I was in the bookstore and I started hearing some comments about missing people. They all had some kind of similarity to you… I know they are in different ways, but I felt scared like I haven't felt in a long time."

"What does that mean?"

"That I'm going to finish stitching up those wounds, I'm going to make you something to eat and after that, you won't be out of my sight anymore." he explained.

Even though you felt a slight discomfort in the wounds on your arm, you allowed your face to lean against his chest, your arms to wrap around him in a simple hug. His face lowered itself to the top of your head and a "I promise to always be here" was whispered in your embrace.

#fiction #reader insert #one piece #no use of y/n #trafalgar d law x reader #law x you #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law

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ooffmlsorry · 1 year ago

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One Piece Men Driving (you around)

monster trio

A/N: I don't know a lot about Kid but I thought I'd give a shot anyway :I I'm really sorry if he's OOC

LAW

Would make a great get away driver honestly, like he genuinely has a great understanding of driving/the road and hardly ever gets lost and he knows you think that's hot

He drives SO FAST like WHERE ARE YOU GOING??? This man actively considers the speed limit a challenge

For that reason he's either always early or on time to pick you up...but somehow suspiciously late getting you home 😉

8/10 times he's in charge of the music, it depends on your taste and his mood honestly. If you don't have the same music taste, he'll grin and bear it because he loves you, really you're torturing this man

Yeah he drives really fast but never in a school zone or neighborhood, he takes that really seriously

Acts like it's a big pain to drive you around but secretly loves it and always claims he was headed that way even if he wasn't

Loves late night drives with you that end in some empty parking lot to talk for hours or make out or both

The two of your are menaces to late night convenience store clerks

Loves holding your hand or keeping a hand on your thigh while driving

Keeps his car pretty clean except for all the coffee cups and energy drink cans on the floor in the backseat that he thinks you don't notice

KID

His car > you sorry not sorry

Drives a loud, obnoxious hot rod

Drives like a MANIAC and LOVES IT. Fuck it we ball, if y'all die then y'all die. This man is not afraid to take a risk and you know that

That being said he'd probably never put you in real danger

"Oh look, y/n there's some kids riding their bikes. LET'S HIT 'EM!!" does not actually hit the kids but definitely keeps a point score in his head as if he did. "You know I just missed 40 points for you, tricycles are worth more."

Doesn't let you drive it but thinks you look totally hot behind the wheel

Gets there when he gets there, babe, but wherever you're going you're going in style

Genuinely loves blasting the music when he's near you so you know he's on the way

The best part of driving with him is being obnoxiously loud and wild and free together

Acts like he's gonna crash just to mess with you a little

Drag races for sure

Secretly prefers your company over everyone else's while tinkering with the car y'all have definitely fucked on top of it like he just likes having you in presence while he works, it kind of puts him at peace

There's definitely some kind of detail that's an homage to you and any sort of decoration you buy that he can put in his car he will

ACE

I'm so serious DO NOT distract this man

It takes every last brain cell he has not to fuck up

Like when he's alone he's fine, but as soon as another person's in the car with him he gets so distracted especially with you

He can't help it he's just so happy to see you and talk to you and look at you and whoops! There was the exit he was supposed to take

He's either picking you up a half an hour early or twenty minutes late there's no in between

Y'all share the music but he can listen to just about anything just don't put on anything boring

You already know the deal, if y'all end up going out to eat you're driving home because he's absolutely asleep

Definitely prefers back roads and intentionally takes the "long way" so he can spend more time with you

Of course there's a 50/50 chance y'all are gonna get real lost anyway so either way he's spending more time with you

Gets really embarrassed anytime he fucks up so don't backseat drive because it'll only make it worse

King of Normalize Hitting the Curb™️

Loves a good snack run

#law x reader #trafalgar law #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid #portgas d ace #ace x reader #one piece x reader headcanon #ngl Ace is just me because he's so ADHD coded #and by menaces to store clerks i don't mean rude #you and law are just loud and ridiculous for whatever ungodly hour it is

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dostoyevsky-official · 13 days ago

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Bill Clinton Justifies The Mass Killings Of Palestinians In Racist Michigan Speech

As Vice President Kamala Harris begins to make her closing arguments before the election, former President Bill Clinton decided to campaign for her by lecturing Muslim Arab American voters who oppose the Biden administration’s support for Israel’s ongoing attacks in Gaza ― going so far as to justify the massive number of Palestinian civilians killed by the military.

The 78-year-old Democrat made the stunning remarks Wednesday at a Harris campaign rally in Michigan, a crucial swing state that has one of the largest Palestinian and Arab American communities. Those communities, both in Michigan and other states, have repeatedly voiced their hesitation to vote for Harris due to her stance on Gaza policy, which is virtually unchanged from that of President Joe Biden.

In response to critics pointing out the disproportionate casualties and collective punishment ― a violation of international law ― the former president said he’s “not keeping score” but that Israeli forces have to kill tens of thousands of Palestinians because they are allegedly human shields for Hamas.

It should be noted that the Israeli military has recently been accused of using Palestinian civilians as human shields in their Gaza operations. International and U.S. law also warns against the indiscriminate killing of civilians, even if militants are allegedly embedded among them.

“What would you do if it was your family and you hadn’t done anything but support a homeland for the Palestinians? And one day they come for you and slaughter the people in your village?” Clinton said. However, this also describes what the Israeli military is currently doing to families in Gaza and the occupied West Bank ― some of whom are loved ones of the Palestinian Americans he directed his remarks to.

Clinton echoed sentiments voiced by right-wing Israelis ― such as equating all Palestinians with Hamas fighters ― that work to dehumanize occupied people so that large civilian casualties are more accepted in the public eye. The former president also argued that Israelis inhabited the land “before their faith existed,” referring to Islam ― a historically inaccurate claim framing Palestinians as just Muslims when they are, factually, a multifaith group largely descended from native Canaanites who have lived on the land for thousands of years.

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bunmurdock · 4 months ago

Note

hey bun :) what you said ab performance anxiety got me thinking... i love the new/young lawyer take, but may i present to you: bitter academic rivals w dark!mean!matt

you’re an anxiety-ridden student at Columbia Law and you have a visceral hate for Matthew Murdock. he’s always been cocky and smug, sometimes even downright mean with the snide comments he makes about your test scores falling just short of his. you have no clue what the hell you did to make an enemy of him, but when two weeks pass and he still makes an effort to contradict every point you make in front of the entire class, you’re over him being a menace and start being snippy back.

thus begins a long, long semester of the two of you trading thinly veiled insults and barbed comments, only cordial when in front of professors (and sometimes Foggy, who’s become something of a neutral mediator that both of you had an unspoken agreement to respect).

but as finals approach, you’re starting to work yourself into a frenzy. your caffeine intake has skyrocketed. you barely eat, and when you do, it’s granola bars and chips and sometimes fruit roll ups (i.e. library snacks that can be easily stowed in your bag), not actual food. you’re always in the library, leaving in the early hours of the morning to trudge to your dorm to catch a few hours of sleep before dragging yourself out of bed to get to the dining commons as soon as they open, scarfing down whatever is quickest, and then hightailing it back to the library before it gets packed.

it’s become something of a routine for you, to the point that even Matt has noticed. and far from being relieved that his academic rival was driving herself into the ground trying to beat him (which strokes his ego, i’m sure), Matt is more… irritated? like, you and Foggy are the only people he really keeps a metaphorical eye on. it’d be hard not to with Foggy because that’s his roommate, but with you, he’d actually had to put some effort into getting to know you (i.e. stalking recon), so he’s more than a little miffed that your downfall is going to be at your own hands instead of his own. sure, he’d still win this little cat and mouse game you two have been playing, but it wouldn’t be as satisfying, you know?

the day before your final, you’re barely even functioning. you’ve been running off caffeine and empty calories for so long that your memory has started to suffer, a fact you’d become forced to come to terms with when you got to the library and realized you’d been in such a hurry to leave that you’d left your laptop—which held all your notes and court documents—on your desk, charging.

you’d been close to tears as you made the trek back to your dorm, feeling as though everyone you passed was staring at you, aware of your monumental mistake.

as you fumble with your keys in front of your door, you could already feel yourself choking up, your vision blurry as the tears well up in your eyes. god, you’d been working so fucking hard for the past week. you were in the home stretch now, the second most important day of the semester (the first being actual day of the final, of course) and you somehow managed to screw up in the most pathetic way possible. it was your fucking laptop, for god’s sake! how stupid could you be to forget the one object that was arguably the most important thing in your life at this moment.

sniffling, you just managed to get your door open when you hear someone say your name behind you. you turn around and see Matt of all people. you’re too sleep-deprived to be mad (or wonder how he’d gotten in your building without a key, or how he’d even known what building you lived in), and it takes all your energy to tell him, “i’m not in the mood.”

it comes out more defeated than you’d wanted it to, but you’re too tired to care, hurrying inside and going to shut the door—only for Matt to shoot out a hand and stop it just before it closes.

“the fuck do you want, Murdock?” you ask, your voice shaky and exasperated. “i promise you can’t make my day any worse than it is, so don’t waste your time.”

his expression is one of contemplation, his eyebrows furrowed behind his dark glasses. “you’re upset,” he states, sounding almost… disappointed?

you can’t help but laugh wetly at how fucking pathetic you must be for the blind guy to notice. “and?” you challenge, the word feisty despite your obvious distress. you try to shut the door again, but he doesn’t let you, an aggravated noise leaving you as the conversation is prolonged. “why do you care?”

he pauses for a moment, weighing his words carefully. “you need an 89% on the final to stay at an A,” he says evenly, and you’re too tired to wonder how he knows your grade. “if you want to go up to an A+, though, you need at least a 94%.”

your eye twitches in irritation, and you get the strong urge to punch him right in his stupid face. you manage to control yourself though, gritting out, “get to the point or i’m breaking your nose.”

it’s a bluff. you’ve never punched anyone in your life, but you know how to make a fist without breaking your thumb and you’re angry enough to not be worried about the consequences of violence against another student—a dangerous combination as far as you’re concerned. Matt, however, seems delighted at the prospect, his eyebrows raising in silent challenge as the cocky grin you’ve grown to hate slides onto his face.

“my point,” he says slowly, as though explaining it to a child, “is that i’m already going to get points taken off my final because of that little stunt i pulled last week.” he’s referring to last Wednesday, when he’d gotten so pissed off at the professor’s reasoning for a case he’d been a judge for that he’d blatantly insulted him in front of the entire class, and had been swiftly told that points would be docked for ‘unprofessionalism’. “so even if i ace the test, i won’t be getting any higher than an A in the course.”

you blink once in the 10-second silence that follows, understanding what Matt was saying but not understanding why he was saying it.

Matt sighs, as though not sure why you weren’t quite getting it. “you want to beat me, right?” he asks exasperatedly.

“well, duh,” you say, though your thoughts are admittedly more along the lines of physically beating him rather than beating him academically.

“so stop fucking crying,” he spits condescendingly, leaning in close to hiss the words mere inches away from your face.

you’re not totally sure what comes over you, but your fuse is so short that you don’t even hesitate, flinging the door open and smacking him across the face. the sound echoes through the deserted hallway, and in the silence that follows, you’re not sure who’s more surprised, you or Matt.

apologizing is out of the question. he was being an asshole. he’s been an asshole to you all semester, and though you’d done your best to give as good as you got, it was tiring to have to mentally prepare yourself for every 2-hour lecture just because Matt was going to pick on you. he was an asshole. he’d deserved it. but still, smacking a blind guy who had no real way to defend himself didn’t exactly sit right with you.

for a moment, you both stare at each other, jaws dropped, and in the next, Matt has surged forward, crashing your lips together. the kiss is rough and messy, but you’re too tired (and he’s too horny) to care. his foot kicks the door shut and he spins you around so that you’re pressed against it, caging you in with his body. you have half a mind to try and shove him off, to hit him again and tell him to get the fuck out. Matt had been a pain in your ass since day one, constantly taunting you and belittling your knowledge of the law. he wasn’t someone you’d ever pictured yourself doing this with… but then he shoves a leg between yours, chucking menacingly at the strangled sound that leaves you, and your mind begins to spiral with a mix of fatigue and—surprisingly—arousal.

“always so fucking difficult,” he mutters between kisses, his fingers already dipping beneath the waistband of your sweatpants. “if i’d known all it took to shut you up was some goading and a kiss, i’d’ve done this sooner.”

he dips his head to kiss you again, and you bite at his lip and palm at his hard on in retaliation, smugly noting the way his hips twitch and his jaw clenches.

“funny,” you say breathily, all thoughts of the library and studying and your forgotten laptop drifting away. “i was about to say the same thing.”

both of you are breathing heavily, sharing the same air, but you gasp as Matt’s fingers slip between your legs, gently running along the hem of your underwear, as though the stitching was a boundary he wouldn’t dare cross without permission.

“i have a proposition,” he says, his tone strained. “every time i make you come, you get three hours of sleep.”

you blink, surprised. “t-that’s your proposition? you want me to get more sleep?” the next moment, your eyes narrow, your sleepy, paranoid mind wondering if this is all some ploy to get you to study less and do worse on the final. “are you trying to make me fail?”

Matt huffs out a laugh, and—weirdly—your heart skips a beat. “i’m trying to make sure you don’t.”

you lick your lips, thinking quickly. “counteroffer,” you say, your own mischievous grin mirroring Matt’s. “every time i make you come, you get a question wrong.”

a triumphant smile makes its way onto your face as Matt’s grin falters, his eyebrows jumping up in surprise. you’d been around Matt long enough to know that he’d have no problem acing the test, but with the professor already docking points for his antics during class, if you could get him to intentionally answer 1 or 2 questions wrong, his grade would drop to an A- or maybe even to a B+, giving you the chance to finally take his spot as #1.

“you can’t be serious,” he says, seeming astonished that you would even propose that.

you make a nonchalant noise, shrugging. “you’d be surprised,” you say, impressed with your own ruthlessness. “if you’re not willing to take the risk, though…” you trail off, pointedly removing your hand from the bulge in his pants and smirking at the way his mouth immediately twists into a scowl.

you’ve got him—hook, line, and sinker.

“fine,” he grits out, taking off his dark glasses. his voice is aggravated but there’s a bit of a manic pride to the smile that makes its way back onto his face, as though he was reveling in the (minimal) danger posed by your suggestion but also proud of that you had thought of such a scheme.

you barely get the chance to celebrate your victory—and admire just how pretty his eyes are—before his lips are on yours again, his fingers rubbing at your clit until you’re a panting mess. you come once against the door, your moans muffled by his mouth on yours. by the time you’ve quieted down, he pulls back, suave and cocky once more.

“one.”

leading him to your bed takes a while, as you’re both shedding clothes while simultaneously trying not to trip on them as they’re discarded. your fingers are fumbling with the button of his pants when he shoves you down onto the bed, kneeling down and resting your legs on his shoulders as he dips his head down and starts licking and sucking at your still-sensitive clit, easing a finger into you as he works you back up again. he’s able to fit three of his fingers in your pussy before you come again, this time having to use a pillow to muffle the sounds you make and avoid being found out.

“two,” Matt pants, his voiced strained as he rests his forehead against your thigh, his cock throbbing.

it’s halfway to your third orgasm that he finally breaks, spilling inside his boxers like a fucking teenager as he eats you out, the taste of you on his tongue too much for him to handle. you raise yourself up on your elbows, half-surprised and half-flattered at the dark spot on his front.

“one,” you giggly teasingly, your mind so foggy with both fatigue and pleasure that everything seems funny.

Matt only grins in response, quickly shucking off his pants and boxers as he catches his breath, a wicked gleam in his unfocused hazel eyes.

“i'm still winning,” he says, catching his breath. “i’ll take those odds."

long story short, you sleep 9 hours, the irresistible tug of sleep trying to pull your eyes shut almost immediately after your third orgasm, your body completely wrung out. Matt makes you drink some water before he redresses, pulling a granola bar and some fruit gummies from the bag he’d had slung over his shoulder and placing them on your nightstand, knowing that at this point you're really only half-conscious and trying to get you to eat now would be impossible.

he dresses you in his shirt and helps you back into bed, chuckling softly as how you immediately burrow beneath the blankets, snug and warm and... cute. he brushes the hair out of your face in a movement that’s much too fond for what’s supposed to be a casual hookup borne of spite. you think you feel soft lips ghost against your temple right as your eyes slide shut, but you’re probably just imagining it… right?

-⭐️

BROOOO YOU WROTE HIM LIKE A MEAN VERSION OF COCKY!S1 MM SOBBBBING SO HARDDDD

matt murdock who is doubly cocky and triply intelligent and will play cruel, twisted mind games with you but not let you sabotage yourself WHIMPERING SO LOUD SMOKE COMING OUT OF MY EARS BANGING MY FISTS ON THE TABLE

also:

“so stop fucking crying,” he spits condescendingly, leaning in close to hiss the words mere inches away from your face.

H- HEY. *visibly shaking and tearing up* HEY UM WHY.. HOW DID YOUR BRAIN THINK THAT UP AND NOT EXPLO- *explodes*

reader in this fic is so so cute i’m gnawing on my fist. i love the way you characterize both of them, it’s hypnotizing. and maddeningly hot how toxic he is before they hook up whimper.. ꩜_꩜

ANYWAY, THIS FIC IS MY LAST STRAW OKAY. i’ve been getting many a masterpiece in my inbox, i will be creating a masterlist soon so followers can read and reread these posts, attributions to respective emoji friends and all. this is too good to get lost in my inbox tag. thank you so much for sharing, please come back.

share your mm thoughts

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #dark!mm nonnie is back.. im making a mf shrine in my apartment in hells kitchen for u holy fuck #⭐️.txt #inbox #bunny brain #>500 words #matt murdock angst #dark!matt #mean!matt #college!matt #student!reader #shy!reader #!degradation #!oral #!impactplay

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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 10 months ago

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Love and Liabilities: Chapter Two (Agatha Harkness/Fem!Reader)

Summary: The weekend before your last year of law schools begins, you celebrate the end of your summer associate position, where you meet an intriguing woman at the bar.

Word Count: 6.6k

Tags: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage!! Smut, dirty talk, light degradation kink

A/N: Hello! I’ll be in rehearsals this weekend so I’m updating a few days early. This chapter, as well as the next few, will be set in the past and marked accordingly. Thank you so much to everyone who read chapter one, I’m so glad you enjoyed it! If you’d like to be added to the tag-list let me know. As always, I hope you enjoy and feel free to let me know what you think. 🩵

Tag-List: @aggieslittleslut @gilmorelivie @ris-ris-mind @sabstance-blog

Ten Years Prior

There was something so enticing about law school. Every attorney you ever met would warn you not to pursue law. It was their biggest regret, they would bemoan, and share horror stories of mountain high piles of readings and difficult exams that would slowly weed out the unworthy. The hundreds of thousands of dollars you would invest that wouldn’t guarantee you to pass the ever dreaded Bar Exam. The world of law was much like a game of cat and mouse; with the law student being the meek mouse and the demanding law professors and your fellow students as the prowling cats. Despite the many, many, many warnings, you ignored them.

You were the first person in your family to decide you wanted to be an attorney, so you were shocked to learn the vast majority of your classmates already had major ins to some of the top law firms in the country. It didn’t seem to matter that you received a top LSAT score, or that you were also accepted into one of the top law schools in the country, just like them. None of that mattered, you were already hundreds of steps behind everyone else. So, you conditioned yourself to work even harder. Endless hours of studying in the library, attending every office hour your professors would offer, taking any opportunity you could to network with any attorney who would reply to you on LinkedIn.

There was an even more alluring pull for you to get into corporate law, or “Big Law.” It wasn’t just the temptingly sky-high salary, or the perks that came with working for a major firm, it was the reputation. The attorneys who worked in corporate law were practically guaranteed a job in whatever other field or firm they wanted to move to next, due to the prestigious reputation they’d previously acquired. Unfortunately, you were competing against the majority of your classmates, most of whom had those direct family connections. Your ambition would always get the better of you, as it merely made you work even harder.

Eventually it paid off, as you received a summer associate position at the end of your second year at the top corporate law firm in Manhattan, Stark & Strange. You spent your summer working alongside some of the more powerful attorneys in the industry, and received paychecks that were larger than anything you had ever seen prior. The firm paid for an Uber Black to take you to and from your shoebox law school apartment, and even gave you a free gym membership. Practically every meal was comped, as you were wined and dined at restaurants where the bill cost more than your rent. It was a foreign world to you, the grueling hours made up for by designer handbags and any luxury you never dreamed of being able to afford, especially not on a summer associate’s salary.

You made a point to stay as late as they needed, and always volunteered to assist various attorneys with whatever work they needed done. Most of it was grunt work, like looking over a contract for typos, or printing hundreds of documents, but you soaked everything up like a sponge. Despite the many hours you spent at the firm, you hardly ever saw the men whose names were on the building, Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. But, you were making good connections with a few of the other attorneys.

Maria Hill, one of the senior attorneys, usually requested for you to assist her on projects. She was only slightly terrifying, and practically ran the firm like the Navy. But, she was extremely knowledgeable and always made a point to introduce you to anyone she deemed important enough. Towards the end of the summer you were working on a tedious editing assignment from one of the junior attorneys, when Maria sent you an email to stop by her office before the end of the day. This wasn’t entirely unusual, as she sometimes wanted your help with a last minute deal, and she would almost always DoorDash whatever meal you wanted if you stayed long enough.

Once you finally finished your assignment, you packed up your belongings and made your way to the top floor where Maria’s office was located. Stark & Strange was a towering skyscraper in the center of Manhattan. Even though you were in a smaller office with a few of the other summer associates, you still had a breathtaking view of the skyline. Many called the design a waste of time and money, but those people clearly never met Tony Stark. No expense was spared when designing the project, and Maria told you it took over a decade to complete. But, when you’re a multimillionaire attorney, money was but a mere object. The hallways were becoming more familiar as the weeks passed, and it was a bittersweet feeling when you remembered your time was almost up.

The door to Maria’s office was slightly ajar, but you still knocked and waited for her curt response for you to enter. She was sitting at her desk, her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun, glasses hanging low on her face as she appeared to be typing. Her office was one of your favorites, it was so open and had a comfortable atmosphere. She had a variety of plants placed throughout the room, and you figured she must have a green thumb, but her paralegal once quietly shared how Maria often committed one of the worst sins of gardening…overwatering. You awkwardly stood near the doorway, contemplating if you should come back when she appeared to be less busy.

As if she sensed your hesitation, she gently shut her laptop, and placed her glasses on the desk, looking up at you. “Sorry about that, Stephen needed a contract updated before tonight.” She motioned to an empty chair. “Come, sit.”

Taking a seat, you nervously folded your hands across your lap, setting your bag on the ground next to your feet. “So, you wanted to see me?”

“I did,” Maria confirmed, giving you a curious glance. “Your last day is tomorrow, right?”

You nodded, and felt a twinge of sadness at the thought. “My first day of classes is next Monday.”

Maria hummed, a thoughtful appearance on her face. “This is your last year of school?”

“Yes ma’am,” You replied, unsure of why she was asking you this.

“Tony and Stephen like to take out a select group of the summer associates every year for celebratory drinks,” Maria explained, and you swore you saw her roll her eyes ever so slightly before adding, “It’s mostly an excuse for Tony to brag more about the firm, but the drinks are free, and strong.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, you didn’t realize they were having another dinner. “Oh, well that sounds nice.”

Maria nodded before continuing talking. “They usually ask the senior attorneys to each invite one of the summer associates, and my pick was you.”

You felt your eyes widen, she picked you? Shaking your nerves aside, you gave her a wide smile. “Thank you so much, Ms. Hill. I’m honored.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Maria insisted, standing up and motioning for you to join her. “I know I’ve asked a lot of you this summer, but you rose to the challenge.”

Lightly blushing, you waited for her to grab her briefcase before you followed her out of the office. “I didn’t mind, I actually really enjoyed all of it.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Maria said, and she seemed sincere. “I believe Tony made the reservation for eight o’clock, but I’ll send you the details in the morning. Thank you again, I’ve appreciated your help.”

The elevator doors opened and you bid her farewell, as she went down the hallway to see if her wife was still working or was wrapping up. You could hardly believe it, sure you were sad that your summer was just about up, but you were one of the few associates selected for a special night out with all of the top attorneys and partners. A few of your classmates told you the partners would occasionally extend job offers to the top performing summer associates for when they graduated and passed The Bar, but you knew there was a slim chance of that happening to you.

Your last day flew by. You weren’t assigned much actual “work”, instead you spent most of the day chatting with the other summer associates and a few of the junior attorneys. Before you knew it, you were signing out for the last time, and handing in your key card and laptop on your way out. Maria had her paralegal forward you all the details, the bar they selected was yet another establishment you normally wouldn’t be able to afford, The Raines Law Room at The William Hotel. One of your roommates went there once with her parents, and gushed about how pretty and unique the space was, so you were excited to see it for yourself. The firm had allotted you one more Uber on their card, and you fully intended to use it.

The drive was surprisingly short, as traffic was relatively light for a Friday night. You sent your roommates a text reminding them that you’d be out late, before focusing your attention out the window. It had almost been three years since you moved to New York for law school, against your parents wishes, and you were still in awe of it. Yes, it was filthy, and there were rats and cockroaches galore, but every major city was dirty. New York was full of history and culture; there were thousands of places to explore, and millions of other people who were trying to find where they fit into this beautiful, messy story. You couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

You arrived at the bar just before eight, you had a habit of needing to be early for every social function you attended. The Raines Law Room was everything your roommate described, and even more so in person. It wasn’t the usual type of bar you’d go to, and it was broken up into multiple rooms with the actual bar in the center of it all. Many of the rooms were furnished with bookcases and cozy, expensive furniture that reminded you of a library. It didn’t take you long to find your group, as Tony had apparently rented one of the private rooms. There were only around twenty people in attendance, Maria wasn’t kidding when she told you it would be a small gathering. You recognized two of the other associates who had been invited, Kate Bishop and Yelena Belova, and you gave them a friendly wave.

Maria was in the corner of the room, sitting on one of the couches with her wife, Natasha Romanov. You’d only briefly encountered the redhead, as she did a lot of international travel for the firm. They were speaking with Tony Stark, the latter who appeared to be at the end of telling a very animated story. Maria noticed you lingering, and waved you over once Tony finished talking. You awkwardly made your way over, trying not to trip in the process; you’d always been terribly clumsy. There was an empty spot next to Maria, so you took a seat.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Maria warmly greeted you. “Do you remember my wife, Natasha?”

“Of course, it’s great to see you again,” You said to the woman sitting on the other side of Maria.

Natasha offered you a small smile, wrapping her arm around Maria’s shoulder. “Maria’s been telling me all summer how much of a help you’ve been, and believe me, she doesn’t praise just anyone.”

Maria nudged Natasha’s shoulder. “That’s not true, I just have high expectations, unlike someone.”

Natasha playfully rolled her eyes. “Right, of course dear.” She turned to Tony, who was scrolling through his phone. “Have you met Maria’s young mentee, Stark?”

He looked up at the mention of his name, and his eyes landed on you. “Oh right, I remember you. Maria’s been raving about you for the past few months, and Natasha’s right, that’s a pretty rare occurrence for her.”

Maria glared at him, clearly unamused. “Funny as always, Tony.”

Sticking out his hand, you took it and gave it a firm shake. “Thank you so much for the opportunity this summer, Mr. Stark. I’ve learned so much.”

Tony waved his hand in dismissal. “Don’t mention it. Have you met my other platonic, legal half? He’s probably lurking around here somewhere.”

“Most likely avoiding you,” Natasha quipped to Tony, her eyes scanning the room. “Looks like he’s over by my sister.”

Her sister? You turned your head to look around the room, until you saw Stephen lightly conversing with Yelena. You didn’t realize she was Natasha’s sister, and Natasha seemed to note your confusion.

“Yelena doesn’t like people to know we’re related,” Natasha explained, her tone more gentle as her eyes were locked on her sister. “She thinks people will say she only got the position because I work here.”

“Well she’s not entirely wrong,” Tony offered, ignoring the glare Natasha gave him, before wildly waving his arms to get Stephen’s attention. It didn’t take long for Stephen to notice, and you watched him frown.

“Did you need something, Tony?” Stephen questioned, annoyance clear by his tone.

“Well you keep lecturing me on not offering the summer associates jobs without you being present,” Tony pointed out, “God forbid I have any fun.”

“I only told you that because you once tried to convince half of them they could only have the job if they signed a contract saying they could only refer to you as their Overlord,” Stephen pointed out, and Natasha briefly snickered before Maria shot her a disapproving look.

“It was a joke!” Tony exclaimed, pointing at you. “Back me up here, if I told you that, you would know I was joking, right?”

“Um…” You trailed off, your brain replaying what he had just said to Stephen about jobs. “I’d probably have to read the contract first.”

Tony sighed, “The world isn’t what it used to be. Fine then, Strange, you’re up.”

Stephen sat down next to Tony, and just like the latter did, he stuck his hand out for you to shake. “It’s nice to formally meet you. Maria’s kept us up to date on all the work you’ve been completing. How have you enjoyed your summer at the firm?”

“It’s been the most wonderful opportunity,” You raved, wondering if this conversation was heading where you desperately hoped it was. “I’m so grateful for everything I’ve learned.”

Stephen nodded, “We’re always happy to see our summer associates take the opportunity to use all of the resources we have available. Now, at the end of every summer, we like to ask our senior attorneys if they would like to refer anyone for a job. Maria, as well as a handful of others, all recommended you.”

Your brain short circuited, not quite believing what you were hearing. “You’re offering me a job?”

“We’d like to invite you to join the firm as a junior associate once you’ve graduated and passed The Bar,” Stephen continued, and you felt faint. “It’s a written offer that we can send to you on Monday morning.”

“That you’ll have one of the paralegals email out on Monday morning,” Tony corrected him before looking back to you. “What do you say? Do you want to join the greatest firm in the city? The salary is competitive, of course. Full benefits and all.”

Natasha snickered again, only this time Maria didn’t try to stop her, and you remembered how Maria mentioned Tony liked to take this time to brag. There were so many emotions swirling around in your head, but you were mostly in shock.

Stephen seemed to notice you were overwhelmed. “You can take the weekend to think it over, and take a look at the offer on Monday. I’m sure this is a lot to take in all at once.”

You nodded, grateful for that. “Thank you so much, Mr. Strange, Mr. Stark. I’m so thankful for the opportunity.”

“We’ll talk on Monday,” Tony reiterated, standing up, and practically dragged Stephen with him. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you so much,” You acknowledged Maria, who had been quietly conversing with Natasha. “I honestly can’t believe this is really happening.”

“You deserve it,” Maria insisted, relaxing ever so slightly against Natasha. “Congratulations, and I hope we’ll be working together again next summer.”

“You’re getting soft in your old age,” Natasha lightly teased her wife, giving you a wink. “Congratulations, and good luck on your final year of school.”

You thanked them both for a final time, before letting them have some privacy. There were still so many thoughts rushing through your brain, and the room was so bright and so loud, you needed to clear your head. As you started walking out of the room, you entered the main bar and decided that you didn’t need to clear your head, you needed a drink. The bar was fairly quiet, with a few patrons scattered throughout the room. You made your way to an empty stool, and waited for the bartender to finish making a drink before you ordered a vodka tonic.

There was hardly anyone else sitting at the bar, except for a woman a few stools down from you. She had dark brown hair, tucked behind her ears, and she was sipping on a glass of some variety of red wine. From a quick glance, you could see she was reading something on her phone, and you watched the frown lines on her forehead deepen every so often as she continued to scroll. The bartender came back with your drink, and you thanked him before taking a small sip.

“Come here often?” An unfamiliar voice asked, and you curiously turned your head to find the woman a few stools down was now staring at you.

“I beg your pardon?” You replied in confusion, wondering if she was talking to you.

The woman arched an eyebrow at you, and you felt your cheeks flush under her heated gaze. She stayed in her seat, but her eyes remained locked on yours. “Some people would call that a pick up line, but not you apparently.”

“Do you often hit on strangers in a bar?” You questioned, watching her take a sip of her wine.

“Well if you came and sat next to me, you wouldn’t be much of a stranger,” The woman countered, and patted the bar stool next to her.

This was crazy, you reasoned with yourself. This woman could be a lunatic, or a serial killer. But she was looking at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher, and her eyes were so blue that you could feel yourself slowly getting lost in them. Before you fully realized what you were doing, you scooted over until you were sitting next to her. Her red lips turned up in a smirk, and she shut her phone off, placing it in her bag. There was something so intriguing about her, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“So what brings a pretty little thing like yourself here on a Friday night?” She asked curiously, her eyes hungrily searching yours, and you could feel your cheeks begin to darken at her words. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you the way she was.

“Um, I’m here for a work event,” You said quietly, unsure of how much information you were willing to share with a stranger. “An internship event, rather. What about you?”

The woman nodded, taking another sip of wine. “Mmm, this and that. I’m staying at The William for a few nights while my place gets redecorated,” There was a sparkling glint in her eyes as she added, “And there’s a rather spectacular view of the city from my room.”

The color deepened in your cheeks, and you chose to take a rather large sip of your drink. “Oh, that’s…interesting.”

“Isn’t it though,” The woman agreed, and you watched her fingers lightly twirl around the glass in her hand. “I never got your name, darling.”

“You didn’t ask,” You pointed out, and she smirked at you.

“Feisty thing, aren’t you?” She guessed, gracefully scooting her stool closer to yours, looking at you expectantly.

There was something so addictive about the way she was staring at you, and it made you lower your guard as you told her your name. She let out another low hum, and repeated it back to you, saying it nice and slowly, drawing out each syllable. At this point, she was close enough that you could smell her perfume. The rich notes of vanilla and lavender swirled together through your senses, and you felt yourself becoming more and more distracted. Taking another large sip of your drink, you realized it was nearly empty. The woman also seemed to notice, as she waved the bartender over.

“What are you drinking, dear?” She asked, her voice sweet like honey.

“A vodka tonic,” You replied, and she slid your empty glass towards the bartender.

“Another one of those, please, as well as a Pinot Noir. Put her drinks on my tab,” She instructed the bartender, ignoring your protest that you could pay for your own drinks.

“Don’t be silly,” She gently chided you, one of her hands moving up to brush your hair out of your face. “You have gorgeous eyes, has anyone ever told you that?”

Every compliment was leaving you more flustered than the last, and you had no idea how she was having this strong of an effect on you. It was the alcohol, your brain reasoned, that had to be it. “No, not really,” You replied, your voice growing more timid.

The woman let out a disapproving tsk, her fingers lingering on your face before slowly pulling away. “Disappointing, but not surprising.”

The bartender returned at that moment with your drinks, and you mumbled a quiet thank you, hoping this would give you some liquid courage. You realized at that moment she never told you her name.

Clearing your throat, you did your best not to sound as intimated as you were. She was this beautiful, sort of menacing, and slightly strange woman. You didn’t want to humiliate yourself. “You know, for someone who hounded me for my name, it’s a little odd you never told me yours.”

The woman smirked again, and you thought you saw her lick her lips. “You never asked, dear,” she pointed out, and her fingers reached out to lightly brush yours. “I’m Agnes.”

Her touch, light as it was, felt like a shock of electricity coursing through your system. You kept waiting for her to let go of your hand, but instead she gently turned it so your palm was visible, and began tracing patterns on it as she sipped her wine.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Agnes,” You said, your courage slowly disappearing, and you weren’t sure what it was that you wanted from her, you just knew you didn’t want her to stop touching you.

Agnes laughed, the rich sound ringing deliciously in your ears. “Believe me, honey, the pleasure is all mine.”

The hand stroking your palm began to make its way up your arm, and you were embarrassed by the goosebumps you felt by having her hands on you. Agnes also seemed to notice this reaction, and she was looking as if she wanted to eat you alive. She leaned in closer to you, her breath hot on your ear as she whispered, “I don’t normally do this, but I’d love to continue this discussion in my hotel room. Would you care to join me?”

It would seem tonight was just full of surprises. Her face was so close to yours, and your brain was still actively short circuiting. You’d barely spent any time with this woman, and you only knew her first name, but it didn’t matter. It was clear what this was, a one night stand. This didn’t have to mean anything, and you were riding a high from your job offer; you didn’t want it to mean anything. All you knew was that her breath was hot in your ear, and her fingers were lightly gripping your arm, and you wanted more. No, you needed more. You needed her.

Fearing you wouldn’t be able to produce any actual words, you wordlessly nodded in agreement. Agnes proceeded to close out her tab, and you made a quick note of the Black AmEx card the bartender returned to her. She guided you out of the room, her hand grazing your lower back. You felt like you were floating, and the only thing grounding you to reality was the feel of her fingers stroking your back, slowly moving lower with every step you took.

Upon reaching the elevators, Agnes waited for you to enter before following, and pressed the button for her floor. As soon as the doors closed, it was as if a switch went off. Her hands were all over you, and within a moment you were against the wall of the elevator. While her right hand stayed pressed against your back, moving down to grab at your ass, her left moved up to gently cup your cheek, forcing you to look at her. Her eyes began to darken with arousal, and before you could even process what was happening she kissed you.

You’d been kissed before, and you thought you knew how good it could be, but that was nothing compared to the feel of her lips against yours. She kissed you with fervor, like a woman starving and you were her salvation. Her lips were so soft and smooth against your own, it was addictive. As she lightly slapped your ass, bringing you impossibly closer to her, you let out a moan and she took that opportunity to slip her tongue between your lips. She tasted faintly of Pinot Noir, and you eagerly allowed her to dominate your mouth. Her hips jutted against yours, creating just enough friction for you to imagine how much better it would feel to have more.

The elevator dinged, signaling you were at her floor, and she reluctantly broke your kiss. You let out a quiet whine and Agnes chuckled, leaning in to whisper, “Patience, honey. My room is right down the hallway.”

She nearly had to drag you along, as your legs were starting to shake, and the walk to her room seemed endless. When you finally reached it, she hurriedly tapped her keycard to unlock the door. Yanking you inside, she slammed your back against the door, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Wasting no time, she began messing with the clasp of your dress, and as it became undone she helped you out of it, leaving you in your bra and panties. The older woman let out a low growl, and pulled you flush against her. Moving you towards the bed, she nearly tore your bra and panties off in the process, before laying you flat on your back.

She straddled your hips, and when you attempted to move your hands up to her waist she swatted them back down. “Be a good girl and behave,” Agnes warned lightly. “I’d hate to have to restrain you.”

You couldn’t stop the moan that left your lips at that threat. Agnes smirked again, taking her shirt off and tossing it across the room, revealing a lacy dark purple bra. She leaned down and kissed you again, lightly biting your lower lip, causing you to groan into her mouth. It felt like she was all around you, but you needed more. You always prided yourself on your patience, but you were quickly losing it. Her lips left yours to trail down your jaw and the side of your neck, stopping near your collarbone. She began to leave hot, wet kisses along it, before biting down on the flesh at the base of your neck and sucking.

“Fuck,” You cried out at the sensation, and you heard her let out a low hum in response, keeping up her ministrations.

She left dozens of marks on you, and you were too lost in the haze of how good she felt to remember you were starting classes in two days. Her hands were relentless, moving all over your body. As her lips began to alternate attention between your breasts, her right hand moved between your thighs, and you both moaned as she felt how wet you were.

“Is all this for me, baby?” She murmured, raising her head up to yours, using two fingers to lightly tease your aching pussy. “What a pretty girl, dripping for me.”

Moaning, you arched your hips up, she was so close and you needed her fingers inside, filling you. “Please, Agnes.”

Letting out a low tutting noise, she pulled her fingers back. You whined, louder this time, and her responding grin sent a shiver down your spine. “Please what, honey? Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,” You begged, desperate to feel her fingers on you again. “Please, fuck me.”

“Good girl,” Agnes praised you, roughly thrusting two fingers inside you, going deeper than you normally could on your own.

Her fingers were so long, and so good, as she set a fast pace, twisting and hitting all of the sweet spots in you. You could barely breathe, all you could focus on was how good it felt to have her fucking you. Her thumb rubbed gentle circles on your clit, and the added stimulation made you cry out. You were soaked, the movement of her fingers taking you created an obscenely filthy sound that filled the room. It didn’t take long until you felt a familiar unraveling, signaling you were close to orgasming.

“Such a good little whore, you’re taking me so well,” Agnes cooed and you felt yourself clench at her words. “Do you like this? Do you like having me fuck your tight little cunt?”

“Oh my fucking-” You cried out, but were cut off as she chose that moment to add a third finger, expertly curling them and bringing you that much closer to your release.

“That’s it, slut,” Agnes growled, fucking you even harder. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good around my fingers.”

“Agnes, please,” You whined, needing to feel yourself come undone. “Please I need…”

Agnes smirked, not relenting in her efforts, and began to leave kisses around the edge of your mouth. “What do you need, baby? Use your words for me.”

“Need to come, please. I need to come,” You babbled, as she took you higher and higher with every thrust of her fingers, and your words caused the older woman to groan.

“Come on my fingers, sweetheart,” Agnes ordered, and you felt yourself lose focus as the pleasure overcame you.

It was mind numbingly good, and you barely recognized the scream that left your throat. All you could feel were her fingers inside you, gently coaxing you through your orgasm. Her fingers slowly stilled, and you felt yourself pulse around them as her thumb gently eased off your clit. Pressing a sweet, slow kiss against your lips, Agnes pulled her fingers out, causing you to whine at how empty you felt.

“You took me so well,” Agnes purred, and you felt yourself drip even more at her words. “Such a slutty little pussy, you can’t even form complete sentences when I’m fucking you.”

You groaned, the filth spewing out of her mouth was a major turn on for you. “It’s not my fault you’re turning my brain into mush.”

Agnes fake pouted at you. “Oh, poor baby,” She mocked, pressing her hips against yours. “It’s a good thing you don’t need to use that little brain while I’m fucking you.”

“Want to taste you,” You moaned out, the idea just popping into your head. “Please.”

“Oh? You want to eat me out, baby?” Agnes questioned, her eyes growing darker yet still from arousal. “Do you want me to ride that pretty little face?”

“Fuck yes,” You begged, causing Agnes to chuckle before taking off her pants and panties, and moving you closer to the headboard before she straddled your face.

You could smell her; the scent was musky and sweet and you were salivating, sticking your tongue out in anticipation. Agnes rested one hand on the headboard and the other in your hair, slowly lowering herself onto your mouth. You wasted no time, licking and sucking, tasting her arousal. The guttural moan she let out spurred you on, eager to please her. She tasted so fucking good, and your tongue lapped up as much of her as you could. Her fingers tightened in your hair as she began to rock against your face, and you moaned against her as she roughly tugged.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl, baby,” Agnes panted as she moved her hips faster. “You’re doing so well. Such a good job. Suck on my clit.”

Ever hoping to please her, you switched to swirling your tongue around her clit before sucking, hard. The moan she let out, louder than before, was entrancing. Her fingers kept your head in place as she rode your face, and you could sense her getting closer to the edge. Your tongue teased her entrance, slowly pushing inside and Agnes let out a loud hiss, encouraging you to go deeper.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck,” Agnes began to grind down, getting closer with every thrust of your tongue. “Such a sweet fucking mouth. Do you want me to come all over that pretty face?”

Nodding against her, you sucked and licked, thoroughly enjoying being used by her. It wasn’t long before she began to shudder, hips thrusting even harder against your face as she let herself go. She tugged on your head as she lost herself in the throes of pleasure, and you never saw something quite so beautiful. Her eyes were closed, head back as she let out several loud grunts, the sound causing you to twitch. You moaned at the taste of her cum, eager to get as much as you could. Her hips slowly stopped, and she gave herself a moment before lifting herself off of you, collapsing on the bed. She immediately pulled you closer, wrapping her arms around you. Her body was flush against yours, and you relished at the feeling of her tits pressed against your back. She was so soft, and so warm; every part of her felt like heaven to you.

She began to nuzzle your neck, pressing gentle kisses against your skin. “Fuck that was so good. Thank you, honey.”

“It was my pleasure,” You drawled out, growing more tired with every word you spoke, slowly feeling yourself drift off.

Agnes murmured something to you, but you were too far gone to hear what she said. The last thing you remembered was the feel of her body curled up around you as you finally passed out from exhaustion. You weren’t sure how long you slept, for when you finally woke up the room was filled with bright sunlight, causing you to wince. It didn’t take you long to realize you were alone, and the already large bed felt ten sizes too big. A part of you wondered if Agnes was in the bathroom, but when you eventually made it out of bed you realized she was gone. The room was completely empty, save for you and your clothes from last night.

You weren’t entirely sure what you had expected, it was a one night stand after all. But, you had assumed she would at least still be there in the morning when you woke up. Shaking those thoughts aside, you rushed to pick up your clothes and get dressed. As you were putting on your clothes, you noticed a small folded up note with your name on it on the bedside table. You slipped your heels back on before grabbing it, and was slightly disappointed to see how short it was.

Thanks again for a great night. -A

Well, at least she left you something. You crumpled the note and stuck it in your purse, leaving the room without a second thought. The next two days were spent in a daze, trying to get everything ready for the start of classes. Your roommates were thrilled to hear about your job offer, and even more intrigued to hear of your night out with an older woman. You kept the details to a minimum, as you always kept those things more private, but they enjoyed it nonetheless. By the time Sunday night rolled around you were absolutely spent. You had just finished marking up your planner for the next few weeks with your class schedule, and double checked the time for your first class as you set your alarm for bed before finally drifting to sleep.

Unfortunately, the exhaustion from the last few days made you sleep through your alarms, which almost never happened. But, after hearing your alarms go off one after another, one of your roommates came to check on you, the knocking on your door sent you shooting out of bed. You rushed through the apartment, throwing your laptop and books in your bag. As you were getting dressed, your eyes landed on the hickeys all over your neck, and you groaned. Great. Despite it still being summer, and extremely hot in the city, you wore a lightweight turtleneck. The lecture halls and library were usually freezing, so this wouldn’t seem too out of place to anyone.

Luckily your apartment was only a few blocks away from campus, and it never took you more than ten minutes to get there. You kept obsessively checking your watch, hoping to make it to your first class in time. Finally, you reached the correct building, and pulled up the class schedule on your phone to check which room you were in. Whipping around the corner, you spotted the door at the far end of the hallway. With one minute to go, you passed other students and professors, not a thought in your mind besides making it through those doors. Reaching the lecture hall, you opened the doors and went inside.The hall was relatively full, and as you searched for an empty seat you heard your professor begin to speak.

“Welcome to Ethics and Professional Responsibility in Criminal Practice.”

Wait a second, you knew that voice. How did you know that voice? You looked up, finding the last person you ever expected to run into, and you almost fell out of your chair. Standing there on the floor of the lecture hall was a strikingly familiar woman. It was the same woman from the other night, Agnes. Her messy dark brown hair was pulled back into an updo, and she wore an expensive looking black pantsuit. She was pulling up a slideshow on the laptop, so her back was turned, but it was her. You knew it was her. The strange thing was you didn’t remember reading her first name on the syllabus that had been sent out a few weeks prior.

After she finished projecting the slideshow, she turned her focus to the crowded lecture hall. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Agatha Harkness,” Her eyes scanned the room, until they eventually landed on you, and you watched her freeze, before quickly regaining her composure. “And I’ll be your professor for the semester.”

Fuck.

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