stop being a needy brat and behave. or face the consequences.
A/N: based on this request, the doffy's work i was mentioning is just here btw. have a good meal.☆
CW: f!reader, established relationship, specific CW are listed under each character
WC: 1,1k
“Go ahead bitch, do my fuckin’ job. Wanted my attention, now you got it,” Kid growls, voice low and dangerous, slamming his length inside you in one rough thrust, keeping you pinned and bended over the desk with a strong grip. Mind spinning, you try to figure out what Kid was working on — but you can’t guess what’s inside his mind, he didn’t draw any plans and it doesn't matter if you're good at crafting, you need a guide to figure out what to do with all the metal pieces spread on the cool wood.
“I don’t know what to—” Air rushes out of your lungs, Kid stretching you wide open in punishing, mean thrusts. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to play with him and distract him by trying to get laid. Kid forces your hand to keep working on the metal pieces, but you’re clueless. And you don’t have a damn devil fruit to help you.
“Focus,” Kid snarls, snapping his hips roughly. “Ya wanted my cock, now you're gettin’ my work too.” His voice is thick with anger. “Tighten that fuckin’ bolt,” Weakly, you try to follow his commands, but with each thrust, your hands tremble. “Faster!” Kid urges you, spanking your ass hard enough to leave a red handprint. “I don’t have time to explain shit to you.” Gasping, sweating, you desperately try to hold the metal pieces but they clatter on the ground, Kid’s fat cockhead punching your cervix with each stroke. He holds your hips tightly, using them for leverage to slide even deeper as if he was trying to fuck some sense inside your needy, wet cunt. “Tighten that fuckin’ bolt or I’ll make you tighten on somethin’ else.” He keeps bossing you around, his heavy balls slap against your pussy in lewd, sloshing noises, thick cock twitching inside you, sweat dripping from his forehead. “Stupid bitch…” He grunts as you try to pick up the dropped pieces.
“Useless,” He snaps, pulling out angrily, forcing you to kneel in front of him. “Open your fuckin’ mouth. And keep it open.” You try to open it as wide as you can. Kid studies you for a second, amber eyes shining with dark satisfaction. He sits down on his chair, grabbing a handful of your hair, shoving his fat cock into your mouth and down your throat until it chokes and tightens around his girth. “Keep droolin’ I don’t care, just try to be useful for once,”
Metal storms inside the workshop, the pieces clasping together in a metallic chime barely covering the wet sounds of your lips and tongue trying so hard to please Kid as he uses you as nearly a tool — just something to satisfy him while he fixes the mess you did with his work.
ft.Shanks
CW: cockwarming, humiliation, brat taming, discipline, use of haki
You grind in Shanks’s lap, trying so hard to get his attention but his hand steady you with a firm grip. “Behave,” He warns, fingers sliding from your waist to your throat, squeezing tight as a silent warning.
“Come on… just need your cock,” You plea, shamelessly. “I’ll stay still, I swear.” Shanks groans, tossing aside the plan he was working on, his fingers playing with the hem of your dress. “And you’re going to be a good girl and behave?”
“I mean it: no moving, no sounds.” You nod eagerly, still grinding against him. Shanks holds back a grunt, flipping you in his lap, your chest pressed against his. He yanks your dress up higher, pulling your panties to a side, brushing his fingers against your wet folds. “Naughty girl, all wet for me when I’m trying to work,” Quickly, he unbuckles his pants, freeing his hard length, brushing the tip against your cunt. “Stay still.”
He doesn’t even have to ask twice, you immediately comply, impaling yourself on his cock, your tight walls clamping down around him as you burry your face in the crook of his neck. Shanks hisses in a sharp breath, but doesn’t move, working on his plan again, acting like nothing is happening despite his throbbing length buried deep inside you — his breath is steady, face unfazed, almost stern when yours is flushed. His tip is brushing your sweet spot so good you want to move.
Biting your lips, you cling onto his shoulders. “Stay.Still. Don’t even think about it,” Shanks warns, voice low and commanding, laced with control and dominance. Frustrated, you try your best to not move and Shanks absentmindedly caresses your hips from time to time. “I could get used to this,” he murmurs, enjoying how tight and warm you feel around him. When he adjusts his position to lean closer to his desk, he pushes himself deeper inside you, making you whine against his neck and soaking wet down his balls. You shut your eyes close, fighting against the urge to move… just a little.
Just a rock of your hips.
Just one.
“I said: stay still.” Shanks whispers, giving your ass a rough spank.
“I barely moved!”
“Barely, yes.” He points out, fingers already working to take off your dress and reduce your panties in pieces, leaving you totally naked and vulnerable. “Stand up. Bend over the desk.”
You feel so empty without him inside you — like a little brat, standing naked in front of him while he adjusts himself in his pants as if nothing happened. “What was so hard to understand when I said stay still?” He doesn’t wait for your answer. Slowly, he lifts up his hand and flips his forefinger, ordering you to turn around without bothering speaking. Automatically, you obey, gripping the edge of the desk.
And then, the weight of the whole world crushes over you.
So overwhelming, so heavy, it makes your heart races so fast you’re afraid it might stops. Sweat drips from your forehead, the sound of blood flowing in your veins so loud it makes you gasp. Mouth open on a silent scream, you fall on your knees, paralyzed, eyes frozen, open, you try to move just a finger, just a muscle, but the pressure is too much, too rough you’re afraid of exploding.
You can barely hear the surprised exclamations on the deck, crew mates unable to resist this storm.
That was a taste of Shanks’s haki.
Flabbergasted, like a ragdoll, you feel Shanks’s foot pressing your shoulders, until you rest on all four like a pet, still paralyzed. “Now you won’t move.”
Your trembling body stays in this helpless position, poor heart thumping trying to process what just happened. It was so quick yet so brutal — that brutal the door of the office slams open on Benn. Unaware of the scene unfolding behind the desk.
“What happened?” He asks, stern, his eyes looking for you because you’re always glued to Shanks. “Nothing, Beck. I was just taming a little mouse. Now… she’s quiet. But now you’re here, take a look at this.”
You hold back your whimpers as Benn makes himself at home, grabbing an armchair to sit in front of Shanks while you’re literally under the desk, totally naked, punished for not being able to follow a simple order.
Stay still.
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ please, reblog, like, comment if you like my work.
Summary: You work at a bakery and a couple of punks take a liking to you
Pairing: Kid/Killer/Reader
Rating: First chapter is pretty tame, chapter 2 will be explicit
Ao3 Link: Chapter 1 (2,247 words)
The bakery was quiet. Not terribly surprising for a rainy day, providing a reprieve from the usual busy foot traffic. The regulars still came in on their way to work or class or wherever they were headed, but beyond that it was calm. The soft pattering of rain against the windows helped ease the tension you usually felt upon facing another work day.
An ease that was interrupted only slightly by the chime on the front door. Straightening up from filling the donut case, the first thing you noticed was the customer didn’t take off his motorbike helmet.
“Hello, welcome to Katakuri Cakes~!”
The man approached the case with a small nod, looking over its contents. The next things you noticed were that he was tall, and he was built. His fringed leather jacket made him cut an even more imposing figure, helped further by the fact he still hadn’t removed his helmet.
You leaned over the checkout counter, growing more curious about him. “Is there anything I can help you find today?”
He turned his head slightly, and after a beat he said with a lilting Scottish accent, “D’you have anything with custard?”
You smiled and bounded back to the bakery case, pointing at the different selections as you went. “So these long ones with the chocolate on top, those are Long Johns, and then we have these with maple frosting, but then we also have some different kinds of flan...”
As you continued to list off a few more of the options, you were unaware the man’s eyes were watching you more than the case. He had passed Katakuri Cakes regularly, but never once had gone in before. He probably would have stopped in sooner if he’d known someone so cute was working there.
“So yeah, there’s a few options,” you finished, folding your arms atop the case. “Personally the strawberry flan is my favorite, if you’re looking for a recommendation.”
The man nodded again. “I’ll try it, then. And I need a dozen cake donuts.”
Your smile widened and you unfolded a box. “Any kind? Blueberry, chocolate, plain?”
Though you couldn’t see it, you could hear the half-smile in his voice. “Surprise me.”
As you rang him up for the items and set the strawberry flan in a tiny pink box of its own, you asked, “Is there anything else I can do for you?” Anything to hear more of that accent.
He shook his head, handing you the cash. “Not today, but maybe next time, m’eudail.”
You weren’t sure what the last word was — may doll? may dell? — but it made the hair on your neck tingle. As did the brief contact of his fingers brushing yours when you gave him his change.
The rest of your shift, you kept turning the encounter over in your head. You really hoped there would be a next time.
Next time turned out to be a few days later. Again, the man didn’t take off his helmet when he came in. You nearly tripped over your coworker to greet him as he came up to the register.
“Hello, welcome to Katakuri Cakes~!” You couldn’t hide the genuine beam in your smile as you added, “Did you like the strawberry flan?”
The man’s shoulders shook with stifled laughter, his tone tinged with sarcasm. “Am I really that memorable?”
Your smile turned into a smirk. “Is that a trick question?”
Again, the stifled laugh, then he nodded. “I did like it. And my friends liked the donuts.” He side-stepped toward the cake display. “Anything you’d recommend today?”
You followed behind the counter, folding your arms atop the case. “Well, it’s hard to go wrong with chocolate. We’ve got truffles, brownies, devil’s food cake...”
The man pointed to a chocolate cake slice with a marbled raspberry icing. “Is this one any good?”
You nodded. “Did you want something to drink today?”
He seemed to think for a moment before nodding. “A small black coffee.”
“Name for the order?”
“Killer.”
You scribbled it down on a cup, resisting the urge to shrug at the name. Maybe he was messing with you, but you could play along with that. You’d certainly been given weirder names, and it admittedly fit his intimidating appearance.
Once you had Killer rung up and finished pouring his coffee, you went to hand it to him, only for him to already be reaching. Your hands made contact once again, just for a moment. This time it felt like lightning shot through your veins, sending your heart rate through the roof for just those few seconds. And then the moment was gone as he pulled away. Your imagination had you believing his pinky intentionally brushed over yours, but you were more certain that Hell would freeze before this near-total stranger would do something like that.
If Killer could read your mind, he’d crack that he better get a warmer coat.
“Thank you, m’eudail,” he said, the word rolling off his tongue. “Do you work tomorrow?”
You nodded, still too stunned by the electricity in your arms to speak.
“I’ll see you again, then.”
Killer came in every morning shift, each time giving you a chance to know about him a little more. He was a drummer for a band called Victoria Punk, and they played metal and (appropriately) punk music. He also liked cooking, and you learned he liked elephants one morning when the manager put out various animal-shaped sugar cookies.
You still hadn’t seen him without his helmet, but you didn’t want to press him about it. Especially when it seemed like your politeness paid off and eventually earned you the privilege to see him with the visor up one day. It only revealed his eyes, but they were a striking blue that pierced your heart.
That same day, as you handed him his order, Killer said, “Maybe I’ll cook for you sometime,” and you could see the hidden smile crinkle his eyes.
Killer, in turn, learned more about you. He was surprised your taste in music aligned with what Victoria Punk played, even sharing a few favorite bands of his. You told him about how you liked to bake even in your free time, and that you went to art school for a few years. You had jokingly offered up your skills to draw an album cover or poster, but he genuinely kept it in mind after you had (sheepishly, at his insistence) shown him your art instagram.
As much as you were intrigued by Killer, he was interested in you in equal measure. He kept it to light flirting, though, unsure how comfortable you were with anything more. There was something about you that sparked a bit differently, even though he hardly knew you. Maybe it was the dimples. Every time you smiled at him, there they were. They were unbearably cute.
“Killer.”
He looked up from his coffee, looking right into the eyes of his friend and partner, Kid.
“Thanks for comin’ back to Earth,” Kid said, his brow raised. “Mind tellin’ me what’s got you so distracted?”
Killer shrugged. “Ah dinnae ken what you mean.”
“You fuckin’ know well what I mean.” Kid folded his arms. “You’re quiet. And not in the usual Killer way.”
Killer took a sip of his coffee, staring the redhead down through his shaggy bangs. “Nope. Still dinnae ken what you’re on about.”
“You ‘dinnae ken’ me one more time and we’ll be here all day.”
Killer stifled a laugh, his shoulders shaking. “It’s nothing. Just another day.”
Kid took a step closer, narrowing his eyes and leaning down to look under his friend’s bangs. After a beat, his eyes flicked to the tiny box by the drumset behind Killer and he asked, “How come you always got something extra?”
“‘Cause I pay for it,” Killer deadpanned.
“What d’you get?”
“Nothin’ you’ll like.”
Kid’s eyes narrowed further and he smirked. Killer knew that look. He side-stepped to block the path to the drums. “Don’t you dare—”
“SHAAARE!”
Killer braced himself as Kid lunged forward. They grappled for several minutes, the equivalent of two brick walls crashing into each other as neither relented. When one side gained the upper hand, the other would soon reclaim it, until finally Kid gave a hard push that forced Killer to slide back almost a whole foot. The latter relented with a heavy sigh as he let his friend snatch up the box. Kid’s triumphant grin quickly dissolved when he opened it and saw its contents: a blueberry muffin.
He made a soft sound of disgust before handing the box back to his friend, who only offered up a deadpan, “Told you so.”
Even with his victory, the disappointing discovery left Kid unsatisfied. “Just never seen you eat so much junk before. You’re obsessed with that place — their donuts weren’t even that good.” He folded his arms, his eyes narrowing. “What’s gotten into you?”
Killer took another sip of his coffee. He figured it was only a matter of time before Kid said something, but he debated whether or not it was too soon to mention you. Still, he wasn’t one to lie, especially not to his partner.
“Nice girl works there,” he said. “That’s all.”
“Nice girl, huh?” A smirk graced Kid’s features and he cocked his head. “Why didn’t ya say so in the first place? Is she cute?”
Even though his eyes were mostly shielded by his hair, he still averted them. “Very.”
Closing shifts weren’t the worst, you supposed. The part that didn’t make much sense to you was being open until ten at night, especially since it was usually dead after seven. At least it meant there was plenty of time for prep work for the early morning when most of the baking was actually getting done.
It wasn’t entirely unusual for someone to come in thirty minutes before closing time, but it was still annoying to hear the bell go off. You heaved a sigh, your back to the door as you worked on the frosting for tomorrow’s cookies, before putting on your best customer service smile and turning to face whoever just walked in.
“Hello, welcome to Katakuri Cakes~!”
The spiky redhead standing near the door gave you a look that, were you in the presence of your boss, would have scared you stiff. Instead it just annoyed you more. Why did the ones who came in late always have an attitude? They were still gonna get what they wanted. Your smile slipped as he approached the counter, catching him give you a once-over. Under different circumstances, you probably would have blushed, given he wasn’t half-bad looking himself. But you were tired; you just wanted to finish the frosting prep and go home.
Rarely did Kid find himself at a loss for words. He usually said what he was thinking no matter who was nearby and gave even less of a shit if it hurt their feelings. He’d heard from Killer that you’d be working that night, and he had a whole thing ready to go about how you better stop giving his drummer the goo-goo eyes because it was distracting him. But the second he saw you, his mind went blank. Even though your smile was fake, the dimples weren’t, and he found himself grasping for straws.
He’d been told before that he had something called “cute aggression”. He hadn’t really understood what that meant, but the phrase came to mind when the first thing he wanted to do upon reaching the counter was pick you up and start shaking you. No wonder Killer kept coming back.
You knit your brow, his intense stare starting to get unnerving. “Um... How... can I help you?”
Fuck. Right. Distracting. “I need you to stop flirting with my drummer.”
“Huh-what?”
“You heard me,” Kid said, putting an elbow up on the bakery case and leaning closer. “Stop flirting with my drummer. Long hair, always keeps his face covered. Sound familiar?”
You took a step back, trying not to let the Scottish brogue lull you into a false sense of security. Was he talking about Killer? “I’m not flirting with him. We hardly know each other.”
“Bullshit.” Kid flexed his hand, resisting the urge to reach over the register to roughly poke your damn cute little cheeks. “How come he’s in here every day, then? You’re fattening him up with these sweets and trying to get into his head. What is it you want, then? You wanna be his little groupie? Is that it?”
Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me? You can’t be serious – I was just being friendly.”
“Friendly. Sure.” The way your face was steadily turning red had Kid pushing down urges like his life depended on it. You looked even cuter angry.
“Yes. Friendly. Ever hear of it?” You folded your arms, trying to keep from raising your voice. “Now are you gonna stand there and keep making baseless accusations, or are you gonna buy something and get out.”
Goddamn that was hot. Kid always liked them fiery. He finally cracked a crooked grin before pushing off from the bakery case and giving it a quick glance. “I want whatever the hell that is,” he said and pointed to a Long John.
Glaring the whole time, you packed his order, took his cash, and handed him his change. “Have a nice night,” you snapped, intending every ounce of venom that came with it.
…..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment
likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post
the last time I reblogged this post right before I got a great job, in a permanent work-from-home position, with benefits, retirement, and a salary literally 3x what I was making before, doing something I really like.
every time someone realizes they dont have to pick between being a boy or a girl an angel gets its wings btw. and also extremely loud cheering can be heard in the distance from me specifically
I reblogged this last month, tagged it, and said “might as well see if it works.” I used this video as a reference to find all the forms that i needed (which is A LOT, especially if you’re a dependent) and sent them through the mail, not really allowing myself to hope.
dude.
$2,714 of medical debt from my top surgery - gone. im shaking this was such a weight on me for 2 years and it fucking worked. what the fuck.
Hospitals like to hide these policies under a lot of successive links in obscure places, so if you don't see anything right away, keep looking! Get friends to help! Make it a scavenger hunt. A game where you're assassins sent to slit capitalism's throat
