#i'm genuinely trying to get these jobs done for him as well

[lustnhim]

დ︎ “impatient.” — 70s! elvis x fem! reader დ︎

note: requested / warnings: MDNI, hand job, oral m-receiving, slight edging, praise, slight degradation, submissive elvis, reader calls elvis daddy (elvis calls himself that too but whateva-) prob typos, kinda pwp, poorly written. / summary: you’re too busy to help elvis out with his ‘issue’ so he tries to take care of it himself, but you catch him.

Elvis had been out pretty much all day doing interviews, you knew when he would come home he’d be hungry. You had been cooking since 12, and it was 5:30 now- You liked to make all his favorite foods when you knew he’d had a long day… Stirring a pot of gravy and watching out the kitchen window you waited for the car to come into view. You checked in the oven to see the cornbread was about done and when you looked up you saw the car pull up and Elvis, who was already out. Jumping nervously, you rushed over to the table to make sure everything was in place, fried chicken, collard greens, mashed potatoes, and an un-iced chocolate cake. Rushing back over to the stove you poured the gravy in a gravy dish and sat it on the table. You still had to ice the cake and get the cornbread out you rushed around the kitchen, trying to get the icing out and ready to spread. 

“Well look at you! Runnin’ around like a chicken with your head cut off!” Elvis said, opening the front door and looking at you, standing in the kitchen, over the stove, and all dolled up in an apron as you cooked. You stopped and smiled at him, admiring his appearance. His messy hair, the soft white jacket and blue undershirt, the glasses that hid his pretty baby blues– he was gorgeous. “I wanted to have everything ready for you when you got home, but I ain’t quite done yet so you’ll have to wait.” You said smiling, walking towards Elvis and wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed you gently on your forehead. “Alrighty, little one. But, daddy’s got another thing he wants ta’ do…” Elvis said, wrapping his arms around your waist, and pulling you closer. Your eyes narrowed, “What…?” You asked, seeing his crooked smirk play across his face. Elvis's hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer, and you instinctively lean into him, the heat of his body warming and comforting you. His smirk is mischievous, and his curiosity piques. "What daddy wants," he coos his voice, a low rumble, "is for you to help him out with ‘little elvis' he's been actin’ up all day." His hands drift lower, rubbing your hips teasingly. You can't help but notice the obvious bulge in his pants pushing against you gently, and a blush creeps across your face. "But… I'm almost finished with dinner, Elvis. Can't it wait a little while? I’ll be done in maybe 30 minutes–” You pull away gently, remembering the cornbread in the oven. “Darlin’ I don't think I can wait that long, I-I’ve been fightin’ it all day..” Elvis retaliates with genuine desperation in his voice. You bit your lip nervously, “El- I got cornbread in the oven and it's gonna burn, after dinner, I’ll help you m'kay?” You say gently, pulling away from Elvis and heading back to the kitchen.

Elvis groaned gently as he watched you walk away. Frustrated, he sighed gently, running a hand through his hair and weighing his options. Sure, he could wait on his little housewife like a good husband, but something about this was different. The tension was unbearable, he needed to do something or he might lose his mind. “Ah- Darlin’ I’m gonna head to the bedroom and watch some TV, just holler for me when dinner’s ready,” Elvis called, heading up the stairs upon hearing you yell back. He walks towards his bedroom, his steps faltering as his erection strains against his tight pants. He can't focus on anything else now. Every thought revolves around relieving his ‘little’ problem. Elvis stripped down to nothing but his underwear and wrestled with the fastenings of his pants, his belt almost refusing to come undone. Once they hit the floor, his throbbing member springs free, bouncing lightly as he bites his lower lip in anticipation. Sitting on the bed he quickly gets to work. He grabs his hard cock, feeling the hot, pulsing veins beneath his gentle touch. Elvis's other hand rubs over his abused balls, encircling them tenderly before giving them a firm, loving squeeze. Letting out a groan he begins to stroke, the pent-up desire consumes him. His breathing becomes ragged, eyes half-lidded as he bites his lip, trying to remain as quiet as possible. Pre-cum drip from his swollen head as he feels himself nearing orgasm.

“El! Dinner’s done–” You say, opening the door abruptly, Elvis quickly struggles to cover himself, grabbing the blanket off the bed and yanking it over him. “B-baby! I- I’m sorry- I just couldn’t wait-” Elvis explains, his face growing red from embarrassment. Your cheeks flush a deep pink, partly in embarrassment for walking in on Elvis, and partly because of the arousal that lingers in the air. Without saying a word, you step deeper into the room, closing the door behind you. Approaching the bed, you reach out and gently tug at the blanket, revealing Elvis's now glistening, hard cock. A small smile plays on your lips as you kneel between his legs. “You couldn’t wait for him?” You coo, taking his cock in your hands, causing Elvis to let out a shaky gasp. “H-honey you ain’t gotta do that…” He whimpers, feeling your hands begin to work. You ignore Elvis's statement, instead focusing on how good it felt to be holding his cock in your hands once again. You stroke him gently, watching as he moans softly under your touch. “My poor husband…couldn’t even wait till’ after dinner..” You tease, watching his face carefully. “I-I’m sorry baby…” Elvis says, through a soft moan. “You’re not sorry…Nuh-uh…My baby wanted to be caught didn’t he?” You coo, starting to move faster now, running your thumb across his tip gently, beads of precum coating your fingers. “I-I’m gonna cum, baby…” Elvis said, bucking his hips gently. You hesitated for a moment before stopping, your hand still gripping his cock. “No you ain’t neither.” You say, causing Elvis to look down at you from partially closed eyes. “You’ll cum when I let you…Kay’ Daddy?” You say, shooting him a soft smile. 

You lean forward, extending your tongue to lick the tip of his cock, tasting the salty pre-cum that gathered there. Elvis lets out a shaky breath, his fingers threading through your hair. “Baby…Please I-I was about done when you came in” Elvis pleaded, feeling you wrap your lips around him. You let out a breathy giggle before taking him deeper into your mouth, moaning softly around him as you suck him. Elvis lets out a shaky moan, his hips bucking up into your mouth. You hum around his cock, enjoying the way he reacts to you. Your tongue flicks against the underside of his shaft, teasing him. Elvis's grip on your hair tightens as he nears his climax, his breathing growing more ragged. You can feel the tension building within him, and you know he won't be able to hold back much longer. Popping it out of your mouth you smile at him for a moment, watching as his belly heaves and his teeth bite his lip in desperation. “C’mon…” Elvis’ groans, his voice weakened.

Sliding down his body, you grasp his cock firmly, your thumb wiping away the beads of pre-cum that had already pooled back up. Elvis lets out a shaky breath as you lean in, taking the head of his member back into your mouth. He grasps your hair, gently guiding you as you bob your head, taking more and more of him into your mouth. You moan softly around his shaft, the vibrations sending shivers through Elvis's body. You pull back, leaving his cock glistening with your saliva as you look up at him. Elvis's eyes are half-lidded, his face flushed with arousal. "Arch your back for me, baby," you whisper, and he does as instructed, giving you better access to his eager cock. You lower your mouth back to him, this time taking him deep enough to reach the back of your throat, making him moan loudly. His fingers are still tangled in your hair, pushing you down deeper onto him, making you gag slightly. Releasing his grip on you, you raise your head smiling at him as strands of saliva still connect the two of you, “My poor husband…Can’t just let me work..hm?” You coo, stroking his cock lazily. “Please baby, please…just- just let me cum, I’ll wait on ya’ from now on just- just please hon’..” Elvis begs, you can feel his cock throbbing in your hands, copious amounts of precum leaking down onto your hands. 

You giggle before moving your head back down onto him, looking up at him, and placing your hands on his tummy as you thrust your head down onto him. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he twitched and gasped, the way his fingers dug into the sheets. You sucked, deep-throating him once more before pulling back, letting out a breathy moan. "Fine Daddy, cum for me," you say, grinning up at him as you resume your slow, teasing strokes. Elvis's eyes roll back as he nears his climax, his hand tangling in your hair one last time, pushing your head down onto him, his hips jerking violently his cock explodes, streams of hot cum coating your throat. You moan against him as he comes, the sound muffled by his cock buried in your mouth. Once he finishes, you pull off, licking your lips and wiping your mouth as he slumps back against the pillows, panting heavily. "There we go, Daddy," you purr, stroking him gently a few more times until he begins to soften. Standing up you admire, his chest heaving, his tummy rising with each shaky breath he lets out, “T-thank you, Darlin…” Elvis whispers, closing his eyes. Looking around the room you find his pants and underwear, picking them up you toss them on the bed beside him.

  “You better get dressed, El…Dinner’s gettin’ cold.”

hii! i think m’ gonna make a master list to put all my fics in cause i’ve got another one i’ve gotta start writing 😭 tysm for all the love on my last fic and just every fic i’ve posted on general- it means sm to me <3

taglist: @hooked-on-elvis @atleastpleasetelephone @lola-1013 @18lkpeters @indiatuck @eptodaytommorowforever @suspiciousmindsxo @tupelomiss @mysteriouslymagicalwolf @myradiaz @i-r-i-n-a-a @elvispresley1956 @sisssygirl @your-nanas-house @generousspirit @joyouswonders @callieselvisobsessed @iminlovewithaustinbutler @eapep @auntbee22 @scarlettlight06 @wildhorseinkansas @elvisiana @spookyeagleflower @ladelinee @jhoneybees @elviswhore69 @peaceloveelvis (lmk if u wanna be added or removed!)

[separatist-apologist]

I just read an article in that guy who murdered two women. Absolutely horrifying. All the booktok crazies fawning over him reminds me of the women that would write letters to Ted Bundy while he was in prison.

I wasn't gonna answer this because I felt like I said what I needed to say and like, I was just preaching to preach but THEN while I was asleep, an anon came into my askbox to accuse me of not being a girls girl while intentionally missing my point. I blocked them before I thought of a good comeback (tragic) but like fellas is it anti-feminist not to stan a man who killed two women because (and this is so important to me) he hates women?

I'm gonna put the rest of this under a cut with a heavy trigger warning for domestic violence, I just want to say it and then I think I'm done talking about it because it's genuinely so disheartening.

Anyway, I think sometimes I get nervous to answer these kinds of asks because as a therapist I should know better than to speculate on people and what they're going through and whatever else, but as a person, its like...do you want to be picked that badly?

I think we all know by now that I work in DV and all the people fascinated with men like this fuck me up because like..."oooh what makes him tick, I want to talk to him, why did he do it-" and for me, I sit on the opposite end talking to survivors of violence asking the same questions with hollow eyes, with shaking hands, with safety plans meant to buy them just enough time to get out of their house so they aren't killed. I still think about some of the people I spoke with who didn't survive it.

When I was in grad school, I took a summer internship at the local DV court helping survivors with orders of protection. The system was set up better than a lot of other courts, but its still the legal system, you know? With all its flaws. My job was to flag for lethality based on what I was reading in the OPs and then reach out directly to survivors to help them navigate the process, connect them with resources, and sit with them in court. And I still remember this one particular woman who's situation was so desperately dangerous. We did a safety plan- and at that level, a safety plan isn't like, "remember to take your keys and wallet with you when you go", its "don't go into the basement or bathroom if he's in the house with you because there are too many hard surfaces, exposed pipes, and basins of water that making killing you easier. Go to a bedroom or closet because strangling a person is really hard and takes time," like THAT kind of safety plan. Anyway she thanked me, I remember this so well, she said thank you and I told her I'd call her the next week with an update and over the weekend he bludgeoned her to death.

And I guess I just don't think there is anything fascinating, interesting, or otherwise unique to men like this (obligatory yes I know women kill/abuse too). They're everywhere. I saw another post about how some podcaster is trying to get him on to talk to that guy and its like, why don't you just call up one of your friends' exes. Like. If you've got more than one female friend, you've probably got a friend who has experienced violence at the hand of a male partner, call him. Talk to him. Ask him why he did it, let him give you his made up story about trauma and sadness and oh life is hard because whatever whatever.

That's my thing. Books, movies, tv- they're not making people like this, and I'm not condemning people for what they enjoy in fantasy spaces. I am condemning it when you bring it out of those spaces and side against the women who were violently murdered because, and this is so important to me (did I say this already??), he HATES women. You are not special. You cannot fix him. He's not smart, or interesting, or fascinating and the having an attractive face is literally just chance and not something inherently moral.

And like, lastly, when you prop these men up and give them a platform, you signal to EVERY man just like him that there is something special and tragic about him. You let him play the victim, you let him rewrite the narrative, you shift the blame of his actions off of him and onto the people he hurt. Like with this particular man, you also side with a white supremacist so what are you saying to all your BIPOC/Jewish friends/mutuals, you know?

Anyway. That's my self-righteous rant, I guess.

[rebouks]

Oscar wound up missing another deadline despite his best efforts and a painful all nighter. He obviously didn't listen to Cookie's advice to take it easy, he's still pushing himself too hard! Either that, or the years of abusing his body with drugs and alcohol have started to catch up on him! Eh, it's probably both..😬

[cynicaldesire]

Almost all of the coverage I've seen regarding Polin has been centered around how Colin Learned to See Penelope and how She fell first, He went completely unhinged. All the nice, good, positive things about friends-to-lovers and two people falling in love.

But one thing I haven't seen discussed is Penelope's actions between hearing that he would never court her and his apology.

She thinks after he goes out of his way to save her from her cousin's fake ruby mines and dances with her and "You're special to me, I'll always look out for you" that Colin must've finally come to see her as a romantic option. But then, when confronted by some toxic dudes about their relationship, Colin is like Ew, no, never in your wildest fantasies.

She's been in love with this boy for years at this point and this is the final nail that he, and by extension the rest of the Ton, will never see her as anything other than a joke. She has no respect, she is not viewed as a romantic option, her and her family are a joke. And it was Colin that said it.

This is her final straw. She's hurt and so she hurts him. Either on purpose or in an attempt to protect herself. She never says whether she read his letters, we only hear that she never responded. He said to her before that she is a constant in his life, that she would never forsake him, and she does just that. Because he did it first (without knowing). She withholds her friendship and affection because he doesn't want to court her.

Sounds a lot like a certain subset of men. Men who befriend women and are nice with the expectation of sex. (I don't truly believe this, but it was brought to my attention in this way.)

She withholds her letters, the one thing that he looks forward to on those trips, because he unknowingly hurt her. Cutting him off from her affection is what causes him to realize some measure of his feelings for her, so it ends up working in her favor, but it's still an abusive move.

It does help her find the strength to finally confront him about his behavior last season, which is the communication they needed to move forward. But it is in her anger and giving up that she is able to find the strength to even remotely touch on her feelings for him, and his feelings for her.

[buckttommy]

god. god. but like. so eddie is dating this woman, right. she's shannon's mirror. shannon is every way that matters. she's got that rasp to her voice, that scrunch to her nose. she is, for all intents and purposes, the best parts of his wife minus the memories together. and so, it's like. he's with her, he's living this fantasy, this delusion, as ryan called it. and. it really is the most selfish thing eddie has done, which is incredible because eddie is a deeply unselfish person, not because of nobility but because he is violently self-sacrificial in a way that verges on self-harm. but we won't go there right now. so he's dating this woman—this fake shannon—and is just like. he's happy. for the first time in years, he's genuinely happy and he's tasting just a little bit of what his life could have been like if...

but then it's like. eddie. eddie. you don't know what you are to this woman. are you her second chance? did her fiance die? is she trying to find love again after tragedy? is she a cancer survivor? are you her new lease on life? is she from a different city? did she have a bad breakup? did her mom die? did her pet run away? did she lose a job? just. it's like. he's inserting himself into this woman's life and all he's thinking about is him him him. she's like my shannon, she's like my wife, i need to do this for me. and it's like ok... great. so you're entering this woman's life for your own selfish gain and you have no idea how badly, how deeply this will hurt her. eddie diaz, you may very well be Just Some Guy to her but you may very well also be The Guy to her. YOU JUST DON'T KNOW

and so. i'm thinking and i'm like. so she finds out. she finds out he's not single, finds out he lied to her from the jump, and she's hurt. and. i don't think eddie's thought that far. because right now, right, right now he's just seeing, and tasting, and feeling the joy and euphoria inherent to being in shannon's orbit. but baby boy. when you hurt her. when you see the tears well up in her eyes and hear that voice crack. when you see her brows draw together and her face tighten when she's pissed, and sudeenly you are twenty-something and stupid breaking your wife's heart for the goddamn millionth time all over again. what then. what then eddie? it's like. you cannot have the joy of "shannon" as some cosmic second chance without having the grief of her too. and it's grief either way. it's grief whether "shannon" is alive and he gets to live this fantasy up until he breaks her heart again, and it's grief if she's dead and she stays dead and life doesn't give him anymore second chances, like. it's all grief. it's all sad.

and he's gotta pick his poison. he has to. this is a path he must walk, but damn if he isn't picking the poison that's going to hurt him the most. i mean jesus. he should have just stuck to pining for a damn ghost. my god eddie. my god.

[ghouljams]

Viking!Soap has consumed my entire being! Just imagining how unhinged he'd get if highland!reader got hurt or taken!!

Or or or! Him seeing her holding/caring for babies! They way he'd get sooo feral... 🥴

(Your writing > Me 🤰)

While the vikings aren't back home quite yet in the Soap story line, I did have an idea in my head and this is honestly the best ask to write it out in. Here's some of highland!reader being a healer and Soap being just... so dead over it

uuuuuh tw for descriptions of birth. I'm giving Gaz a baby.

Now this is a good use of your skills. You forget sometimes, that the vikings come from somewhere, that there must be people waiting on them, that they must have a home. This? You could never deny that Gaz is human after this. Not with the way he holds his wife's hand and frets over her as she grits her teeth and pushes. You know this, you've been midwife to enough of the people in your village to feel her dilation with your fingers, to cup the baby's head and ease its shoulders. You try to look reassuring as the mother sobs above you. That's what Gaz is for you suppose, he murmurs quiet affections to her, trying to keep her calm through the worst of it.

When the baby finally slips free and falls into your hands you can feel the relief that sobs through its mother. You're quick to dip your scissors in the boiled water nearby and snip the cord, tying it off with deft precision. You frown at the quiet infant, rub your fingers against its chest as Gaz comforts his wife. It scrunches its little face, opens its mouth on a silent cry and you turn it over to hit its little back hard. Then again, until it coughs and its cry finally pierces the air.

You sigh, and pass the baby off to be cleaned up by one of the mother's friends. "It's a boy," You tell the happy couple, taking their weary smiles as payment for a job well done. The only job you've ever done well.

The fire has burned low and the rest of the village has gone home to wait, but the 141 is vigilant. The crazy shepherd pops her head out of Gaz's house with good news after hours waiting. Soap lets out a breath and leans back to look at the rising sun. A new day for a new life.

He doesn't expect to see you holding the new wee one when they're actually allowed in. Sat next to the bed, fingers checking over the infant as your wrap and re-wrap its swaddle. His swaddle. Gaz said the baby was a boy.

You look tired, but you smile fondly down at the sleeping baby none the less. Again he finds himself staring at the rising sun, the warmth of you permeating every shallow corner of the room. The baby shift in its blankets and you shush it before it can start crying. Your fingers are so gentle as the skate over its little cheeks and nose. Every angle of you seems to gentle the infant, each soft touch to calm it. Soap's never seen anyone like you, never thought someone like you would step down from the realm of the gods to grace the earth.

Something warm melts over Soap's heart, the tender moment broken when you hand the baby back to his mother. Gaz and his wife laugh as Ghost and Price crowd close to give the congratulations, but Soap can't take his eyes off of you. He wants to see it again, wants to see you cradling an infant, looking content and proud.

Soap goes to stand next to you, brushes his fingers against your shoulder to try and catch some of the warmth breaking off of you. You stiffen and glare up at him. He takes his hand away, feels his fingers tighten, his smile hollow when he pastes it on. How differently would you look at him if it was his baby you cradled close to your chest? Would your gaze still cut into him like the bitter winds that carry snow down from the mountains? Would you soften for him, let him see the warmth in your eyes that now seems so far away? Would you look at him like you look at the baby?

As something human?

"Thank you," Gaz's wife give you a genuine smile, her eyes tired but shining with joy, "I know this isn't what you-"

"No," You stop her, the nordic tongue sounds so foreign to Soap's ears when it comes from your mouth, "I'm happy to help." Your accent is bad, it makes Soap smile a little fuller as he tries not to laugh. You seem to warm again watching the happy family. It's just him then.

Soap can see it when you give Gaz a weary smile, he's human in your eyes. He wonders what it would take to be granted the same honor. If you'd ever give him that, just that, he could live a lifetime on it.

[canonizzyhours]

I'm a professional screenwriter. I know nobody reading this has any reason to believe that, and I work pretty hard to keep my fandom activity separate from my professional identity, so I'm not going to offer any proof that would doxx me here, believe me or don't. But it's true and I don't just mean I'm trying to get hired as a screenwriter, I mean I am pretty well established in the industry and I've worked on some stuff big enough you've probably heard of it. I've also been active in OFMD fandom for about two years now, since nearly the beginning.

The canyon really freaks me out because seeing it up close makes me worried I've drastically underestimated audiences' empathy gap around characters of color and tendency to sympathize with and excuse the actions of white characters. I've always tried to be conscious about that sort of thing in my work but now that I'm seeing the whole process up close it's so much worse than I always thought.

I think a lot about what I would have done during season 1 of OFMD, if I were in the writers' room and I'd wanted to make sure it would be clear to the audience that Izzy was Ed's abuser and wasn't acting out of secretly sympathetic motives and we're supposed to be genuinely horrified by his actions. I'm in writers' rooms workshopping issues like this all the time. I know the kinds of suggestions I'd make.

Like, if we were worried that the audience would think Izzy's hostility toward Stede was about class instead of homophobia, I might have suggested we make sure Izzy's dialogue never has any reference to Stede's class at all, and that we might do a subplot in one episode where Izzy is equally hostile toward Lucius, since Lucius clearly isn't rich but is extremely gay. But that already happened, and it didn't help.

If I wanted to make sure the audience understood that Izzy is bossing the crew around and screaming at everyone to work harder because he's a petty little bully on a power trip and not because the work actually needs to get done, I might have suggested a scene where Izzy deliberately makes a mess on purpose just so he can order the crew to clean it up. But that already happened, and it didn't help.

If I wanted to make it clear that Izzy has always been awful toward everyone around him -- especially his colleagues of color -- since long before the show started, I might have suggested we repeatedly emphasize throughout the season that while Fang is willing to work with him, he doesn't like or respect Izzy and this is because Izzy has always treated Fang very badly. Have him pull on Fang's beard for no reason and have Fang explicitly say he hates that but knows it wouldn't help to complain. Have Fang tell strangers jokes about times Izzy humiliated himself in public. Have a scene where everybody unanimously VOTES TO MURDER IZZY and someone explicitly stops to ask Fang if he's cool with this and Fang explicitly says yes this is absolutely fine with me and then he actively participates in the murder plan while smiling. But all of that happened and I still see the canyon insisting that Izzy was a much nicer person before the events of s2 when he wasn't under so much stress and has always been liked and respected by the PoC around him, including specifically Fang!

If I were worried that the audience might take seriously the idea that Izzy is motivated by "loyalty to your captain" -- well, honestly I don't think it ever would have occurred to me to worry about that, since he says that in a scene where he's in the middle betraying his captain and I'd probably assume people are capable of picking that up and understanding that when someone says they're abusing you for your own good you should not believe them. But if someone else insisted we address the concern, suggestions I'd make would include: make sure some of the first interactions we see between Ed and Izzy involve Izzy complaining about how he doesn't want to do the job Ed just gave him, then half-assing the mission and lying to Ed's face about it. Show Izzy deliberately undermining Ed to the crew by telling them he's half-insane, then insist to Ed that he's the only one keeping the crew loyal when they're worried about his judgment. But they did that stuff and we still have people thinking Izzy's central motivation throughout season 1 is selfless devotion to Ed.

The show did every single thing I would have suggested, and none of it worked. So what does it say about all the stuff I've already worked on, whenever I've written a scene where a white guy was being a dick to characters of color? Have I just been embarrassingly naive this whole time? Have I undermined my own work by not getting this?

You can't control audience reactions, I know that, that's part of what's great about art, you have to let go and accept that people will interpret things in ways you never intended, I get it. But if it's THIS impossible to choose words that will create the kind of feelings you meant to, what's the point? Is it even possible to write about the kind of abusive relationship Ed and Izzy have, where the white guy thinks he's entitled to control a brown man's life "for his own good" and that the brown guy is obligated to be grateful and reciprocate his "love" and not have a huge group of people creating elaborate justifications for the white guy? What else could they have done? What else can I do, when I'm writing about characters of color? I'm seriously asking. If anybody reading this has advice I want to hear it. What could I do?

#408.

[salmon-bagel]

Tf2 mercenaries x Seductress! Class! Reader

Warning: nsfw content, female reader, sexism

Scout

When Scout heard that there's a woman who's a professional at seduction, he had already started plotting.

"Hello, name is Y/n L/n, but you can call me the Seductress. It's nice to meet you."

"Heya, nice to meet cha' mommy- Oh, i mean mommy i mean mommy i mean mommy i mean mommy-"

Constantly hits on you. Scout believes that you're the type of girl that's 'easy', someone who will let anyone bang them regardless of who they are.

That boy isn't going to leave you alone until you let him into your pants.

Even when he's not busy trying to get in between your legs, Scout is asking you for advice on how to woo the ladies. Considering you're a professional at flirting with people.

You go back and forth on giving him good advice and bad advice. Sometimes you feel bad that he can't get a girlfriend. Then again, you think to yourself that no woman should be within three feet of Scout because of how much of a horny asshole he is.

After some time, you did grow to have a soft spot for him. Since he's bullied a lot by the other mercenaries. He can be kinda cute when he's not being a complete jerk.

Soldier

Soldier treats you like the other mercenaries. Ruthlessly bleating in your ear when you're doing something wrong.

"GIVE ME ONE HUNDRED SQUATS NOW! I WANT THAT AMERICAN ASS NICE AND PERKY BY THE TIME YOU'RE DONE!"

He wants the best from you. Regardless of your gender, he'll push you to the limit until he's proud enough to call you a warrior.

Soldier tests that you're a good seductress by making you flirt with him. It's an ego boost on his part, but he's genuinely trying to make sure you're hot enough for the enemy.

"YOU CALL THAT FLIRTING!? I'VE HEARD BETTER FLIRTING FROM A MONKEY! AT LEAST THEY CAN PUCKER THEIR LIPS BETTER UNLIKE YOURS!"

Buys you clothing that he believes would work well when you're seducing the enemies. It's always american themed swimwear or lingerie. You began to believe he's just buying that for himself for you to try.

Whenever the team successfully wins for the day, Soldier immediately rushes towards and smacks your ass as hard as he can.

"NOW THAT IS AN ASS I'M PROUD TO CALL AMERICAN!"

Sniper

Sniper believes your work is very unprofessional. Considering he believes you have to whore yourself out to the enemy team. Instead of using your actual skills.

He says he has nothing against prostitution or sex work in general. Sniper just thinks that stuff you do should be kept behind doors and not on the battlefield. He says it causes too much of a distraction. However, you claim that 'distraction' is the point. Sniper doesn't seem to get it.

You honestly could care less what he thinks. Snipers throws jars of piss for a living, and he really thinks he has the right to judge other people?

The truth is you're good at seducing people. Too good. That it distracts him from doing his own job. Sniper has a tendency to watch you through the scope of his gun.

The way your body gets all hot and sweaty from the terrible heat, oh it does something to him. Sniper has imagined licking your sweat off your tits while you degrade him for being such a filthy fuck.

You are his go-to jerk off material. The women in his porno magazines don't get him off like they used. The only way he can relieve himself now is by imagining your fat ass bouncing on his cock.

When he noticed a pair of your panties in the laundry basket, Sniper couldn't help himself to inhale the sweet scent of your panties before putting them back.

Sniper knows he's a damn hypocrite.

He slut shames you for what you do, only to get off to you afterwards. The post nut clarity consumes him with guilt and shame.

Sniper still hasn't built up the courage to apologize to you.

Heavy

Heavy is one of the very few people who treat you like an actual human being. He was raised by a single mother alongside three sisters. Heavy knows to treat a woman right. Less he wishes to face their fury.

Heavy doesn't understand why you seduce the enemy. You're supposed to shoot at the enemy, not bat your eyelashes and wink! However, after watching your work on the battlefield, he gets to more of an understanding.

"Oh, I see. You lie to enemy and lure them in like fish? HA! Very clever!"

Absolutely loves gunning down the enemy that is distracted by you.

Is one of the few men who genuinely falls for you for your personality. Heavy knows you're drop-dead gorgeous, but he knows that beneath all that beauty is a truly intelligent woman. You earned your place on the team by impressing Mann Co., with your skills instead of batting your eyelashes and begging to be a part of the team. You make his heart swoon like no other woman has.

He likes to write you poetry. It helps convey how he feels for you because he's too bashful to put it into simple words.

Heavy is not afraid of anything. Nothing, not even death itself. However, it took him a lot of courage and constant rehearsal to ask you out on a date.

He hopes to start a genuine relationship with you. Heavy doesn't want a one-night stand or be friends-with-benefits with you. He wants you to be his girlfriend and maybe possibly his wife later down the line.

Engineer

"Well, I'll be! Aren't you the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

Engineer is taken aback by your good looks and sauve personality. He genuinely questions why you wanted to be a mercenary. A beautiful lady like yourself is too of high risk to get hurt!

Will always be there to help you if it gets too much for you to handle.

However, he can be very overprotective over you on the battlefield. Engineer thinks it would be safer for you to stay on the rancho relaxo than getting shot at by the enemy. As much as you'd like to not do anything on the job, Mann Co. isn't paying you to be lazy. They see everything and will tell you to get off your ass and start fighting.

You have to beg Engineer that you can do it on your own. He understands your point of view and begrudgingly lets you fight with the others. Even if it means going against his code of defending and protecting a lady when she needs it.

While putting up dispensers and sentries, he can't help to admire you from afar. Engie believes that a guy like him has no chance with a girl like you. What woman would be interested in a bald man who has a robotic hand and locks himself away in his work? No gal that's who.

Engie fantasizes about working up the courage to flirt with you and ask you out, which would eventually lead to a rather sensual night spent together. He did try to ask you out once but miserably failed. Engie kept stuttering and mispronouncing words out of nervousness while attempting to seduce you. You couldn't make out what he was trying to say. Thankfully, Demo had the heart to pull Engie out of that mess of a conversation and save him from further embarrassing himself.

So now, he just admires you from afar. Dreaming that one day he'll get to win your heart.

Spy

Surprisingly, he wants to get to know you as soon as possible. It's not every day you get to meet a lovely lady.

When he learns of your class type, oh boy, this man will make you question if you're even meant to be the Seductress.

"Mademoiselle, you are the most beautiful creature I've ever laid my eyes on."

"Do you know why they call Paris the city of love? Why don't I take you there and show you?"

"If the verb ‘to love’ didn’t exist, I would have invented it upon seeing you."

Spy leaves your entire face red and completely frozen after he's done talking to you. He's so flattering and charismatic. In comparison to the other men, he makes it seem like they're not trying at all. It isn't their fault, though, Spy is a natural at wooing the ladies.

You're surprised when Spy gifts you things that you really like. You never shared these intimate details with him before or with the other mercenaries. When you asked him how he knew what you specifically liked, Spy merely winks at you and grins. He has a way of receiving information without anyone knowing.

He has a tendency to kiss the back of your hand whenever you two are greeting each other. Spy is a gentleman and can't help himself to be sweet to a beautiful woman.

When Spy asks you out on a date, you agree to it because you have been meaning to go out. You felt like you'd go insane if you stayed in the base any longer. You put on your best dress and left with Spy into town.

After having a nice meal and a few glasses of wine, both of you give into temptation. Spy could hardly keep his hands off you when he drove you both back to the base. All your clothes came off the moment you reached his bedroom. You found it a little strange he refused to take off his mask. Oh, what the hell. He's hot and treated you to a nice date.

In the morning, you receive uncomfortable stares from the other mercenaries. Let's just say you and Spy weren't exactly quiet during your lovemaking. Unfortunately for the others, you decided Spy would become your fuck buddy.

Medic

He's been meaning to include a female subject in his experiments- I mean, he's glad to meet you!

You try your best to steer clear of him. However, on the front lines, it isn't so easy. When you're constantly getting shot at and stabbed by enemies, you'll need the Medic's help to get better.

When he sees you in action, Medic feels a new emotion that he's never felt before. Is this.. love? Maybe it is. Or maybe it's just lust.

Medic has never been infatuated with any woman. Except you. The way you lure in these pathetic men with your good looks and false promises, only to kill them afterwards- oh God, it makes him giddy. He feels like a schoolboy all over again!

Medic does routine check-ups on you. To make sure all your lady parts are in working order. In reality, this perverted fuck wants to have an excuse to grope you. Always gaslights you into believing he's not being a degenerate.

"Is this really necessary?"

"Why, of course! Breast cancer isn't something to take lightly!" He'd respond. You would understand, but after thirty minutes of him fondling your breasts, you knew what his true intentions were.

Medic writes you love letters and his dove, Archimedes, deliver them to you.

The letters start off relatively sweet. Medic writes that he views you as a Goddess, a truly ethereal being that is too perfect for this world filled with lesser mortals. And how he's the only man truly worthy for you.

Then, the letters take a complete turn the more you read it. He writes how he wishes to fulfill every filthy fantasy he's ever had with you. Oh boy, the list is long. For one, Medic wants to tie you down, gag you, and breed you like the filthy whore you are. Another consited of how he wants to fuck you on the battlefield while you're bleeding out and fingering your open wound as if it was your pussy.

You've stopped reading his letters and tend to light them on fire.

Demoman

"So, how much do you regularly charge for a quick shag?" He'd ask you before laughing his ass off.

Demo will never take you or your work seriously. Even if you politely ask him to.

He doesn't see what's so hard about showing off your tits and saying how much you love to suck cock. Demo believes you should've been a stripper if you wanted to tease men so desperately.

You frequently explain to him in detail how you help and provide for the team. You honestly can't tell if Demo deliberately forgets or because he gets drunk so often, he hardly pays attention to you while you talk.

Don't worry, though. After you've instilled the fear of women into him, he'll be gladly reminded that he shouldn't judge or ridicule a woman. If his mother were here, she'd knock some sense into him.

Demo apologizes to you, drinks, gets drunk, and apologies some more

"I'm sorry, lassie! It's just that I just get so lonely sometimes! What woman would give me, a one-eyed freak, a chance!"

He bawls on the floor, crying in front of you. You attempt to cheer him up by comforting him. Instead, you end up getting drunk with him.

Did you shag him in the heat of the moment? That's all up to you ;)

Pyro

Has no idea what you're doing to the enemy. Anything sexual you do is translated as innocent in their vision. Will never know what real seduction or sex.

Luckily, they think everything you do is nice and polite!

Regularly gives you grotesque gifts, which are usually human hearts and bones. You begrudgingly take the gifts because you know they mean well and don't wish to be disrespectful.

Pyro has a tendency to go through your closet when you leave your room. Or while you're sleeping. Either why, they steal your clothing and belongings. They pick out outfits and wigs they like along with makeup supplies. You wonder where you placed your dress and immediately begin searching for it. Maybe you left it in the laundry room. As soon as you exit your room, you see Pyro wearing your clothing over their suit. Fake eyelashes have been glued onto their eyes, and lipstick smeared all over the breathing hole.

You can't even be upset with Pyro. They're doing their best.

You let Pyro keep the dress they're wearing, considering it most likely wouldn't fit you anymore.

[goldustwomun]

pacifier (s.b.)

pairing: sirius black x younger potter! reader

summary: something about your relationship with sirius black had never sit quite right with you, and now that he's back after two years of travelling the world, you're beginning to think that you'll soon find out what'll happens if the two of you finally fall over the edge of whatever precipice you've been teetering close to all these years. anyway, you've got to work with him all summer, so what's the worst that could happen?

warnings: allusions to sex (minors dni!!!), swearing, cocky sirius and like kind of an annoying younger sister reader (but also that's literally me lol), bad transitions between light hearted banter and angst but i'm trying my best RIP, i imagine sirius to be mid-20s and reader only 3/4 years younger (but everyone is OF AGE), mommy issues if you squint

wc: 4.9k+

note: soooo i'm back :D again :D i'm almost done with second year and actually somewhat ahead with all my papers (with very minimal finals; def recommend being a history major x) and i've just been missing the community so enjoy this! i had this first chapter posted a while back (like maybe a year) but it was actually ass so i've redone it a little :)))) as always, reblogs and comments are MUCH appreciated and i can't wait to interact w/ y'all over this because i have been DAYDREAMING about brother's bf sirius :')

Oh but, babe, you know I've tried and failed But you just don't know how it feels To lose something you never have and never will

“What do you mean he’s working at the shop as well?!” you all but screeched, chasing your Mother around the kitchen, feeling a lot like the pesky youngest child you were. 

“He needs some help so we offered to give him a job. Honestly sweetheart, aren’t you too old for this childish feud?”

“Too old? Shouldn’t you be saying that to him? He’s like– thirty or something, and still continues to be the bane of my existence. Fucking Bla–”

Your Mother whirled on you abruptly, brandishing the wooden spoon she was about to stir the boiling pot with right in your face.

“Oi, language! I would tell him the same but unluckily for you, you’re my daughter and currently living under my roof, so you get to hear it first.” She gave you a saccharine sweet smile, the kind that had you biting back the urge to roll your eyes.

“--now, he’s been gone for such a long time, and we’re all very excited to see him, so don’t ruin this reunion with any more of your tantrums.”

You opened your mouth once more, intent on not letting the argument die there, but your Father bounded into the kitchen at the same moment, ruffling up your hair with a “Hey there, kiddo,” before promptly moving on to snake his hands around your Mother’s waist.

“Looking as beautiful as always, my dear,” he cooed into her ear. She let out an uncharacteristic giggle that had you bolting from the kitchen before you were scarred any further.

Your parents’ tooth-aching affections for each other was just that: sweet, but sickly all the same.

Somewhere inside of you, in between the urge for unattainable perfection and the fear of failure, you yearned for a love like theirs. Something genuine but passionate, able to withstand the test of time.

James, your older brother, had found it with Lily, and their son Harry being a product of their young but no less intense love. 

You loved that kid like he was your own. Would beg James to let you come over, play with the babbling toddler for a few hours, even going as far as to offer up your weekends, encouraging the young couple to “go out, live a little!”. But they were about as infatuated with their own child as you were, and had a never-ending supply of friends who were equally as eager to help out.

And one of those always eager friends was currently pounding his stupid fist against your stupid front door, and you were already riled up from the news your mother had broken to you only moments earlier, head pounding and fists balled into shaking fists, that you couldn’t take seeing his face quite literally in front of you, as well. 

You shoved past James, knocking him back a step as his hand reached for the door to let his best mate in. You caught a glimpse of him on the doorstep, the first in almost two years– hair unruly like he’d just rolled out of bed, long, black strands; newly tanned skin blushing under the heat of the sun; those thick, brooding eyebrows that raised up in your direction – eughh. 

“What’s got your knickers in a bunch?” James called at your retreating figure, shouting loud enough to be heard over your heavy footsteps despite the carpeted floor. 

“Ask your best mate over there!” you answered back with a bite, slamming your room door shut.

“Fuck,” he sighed, defeated, yanking his confused friend in and a chucking a thumb towards the stairs. “How’ve you managed to piss her off before you even got here?” he asked incredulously. “Peace– we had peace in this house for the past two years since you’ve been off, and now look–! It’s a bloody riot!”

“Oi– I’ve done nothing,” he moaned indignantly, hanging his coat and scarf on the gold-crested hooks by the door. “--I think,” he added for good measure after a beat. "I mean, I've only just stepped inside."

Sirius had yet to quite grasp why you got under his skin so quick, squirming between his nerves like a misfired electrical impulse.

You’d grown up together, spent every waking moment in each other’s presence when he was at the Potter residence (which happened to be just about always given his own family situation). If books and movies were to be trusted, what with fiction being so reminiscent of real-life, he'd have expected be like some sort of brotherly figure to you.

But even the thought of it had bile creeping up his through, as if it was so unfathomably wrong his body refused to entertain the possibility of it.

So no. Something about you and your irritatingly know-it-all personality, shrill when indignant voice (which was rather often around him), your need to always be right – something about you brought the worse out of him.

Had him constantly searching for something new to point out, to irritate you all over again, hit the nail on your specific head - something to really push you that little bit over the edge. 

It wasn't even like he enjoyed it, watching you get all huffy, nostrils flared, brows knitted together, face verging on a flushed red. Sirisu was well aware that with every jab the two of you threw at each other, things got a little more out of hand.

Right before he had left, two years journeying through the glades of Scotland, then France, Greece, Türkiye, India, Taiwan (he'd been close to everywhere), he had made the mistake of aiming a particularly ruthless dig at you, and watching your face crumple, devastated and defeated, it had finally cracked him inside.

But there wasn't anything he could do about it then, what with leaving the next day, and two years later, it seemed a little too late.

The rest of the Potter family didn’t share your sentiments about Sirius, and rather adored him immeasurably. Had since he’d taken to hiding out in their house after a particularly brutal fight at home when he was only eleven. Heck, he’d even attended every Potter-family gathering, dinner, birthday, you name it, since then. It was why he came over every Sunday for a roast, pudding and some chat – he could never put into words what your family had done for him, the safety, security, home, even, they'd given him when he’d been lost and entirely clueless of what a real family looked like.

So he made the thirty-minute drive, every Sunday, much to your irritation. He plastered on the biggest smile for your Mum, complimenting every minute detail of the meal she cooked for the family, drank a glass of whiskey and smoked a cigar with your Dad; he was even Harry’s favourite, always humming quiet melodies into the youngest Potter’s ear.

With him away, he’d missed out on the family time he usually looked forward to every weekend. Mondays seemed a lot less dreadful after having a belly-full of Mrs Potter’s food.

Still, he’d sent postcards and printed pictures of everywhere he went, the sights he’d seen, people he’d met. It wasn’t the same, not without the lot of you to pester him but he’d needed some time to find himself.

He still wasn’t sure if he’d found what he was looking for, but the money had to have run out eventually so he was back home, ready to work and settle down in his life for once after graduating Hogwarts. 

Sirius followed James into the living room where he found Lily, sipping on a glass of red, sitting by the empty fireplace. Instead, a window had been cracked in to let the temperate wind in.

She perked up as they entered, waving with that soul-wrenching smile of hers that could persuade even the most strong-willed of men into submission. 

“Pads, you’re back!” she called from her seat. "And you've grown a moustache-- interesting choice of facial hair." Sirius, however, raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, ignoring her greeting-slash-judgement as he peered into the empty crib by her side, even going as far as to search under it as if the toddler might have escaped.

“Harry’s gone to bed in the guest room. There was a bit of a shouting match before you arrived,” James explained, sinking into the space beside his wife and pulling her into his side. “Actually, now that I think about it, there was a lot of shouting after you arrived as well.” 

Lily snorted, snuggling into her husband without hesitation, and Sirius couldn’t help but avert his eyes, feeling entirely like he was imposing on an intimate moment as the two of them whispered in the other’s ear.

“Well, don’t mind me. Sitting here, all by my lonesome, no company or polite chatter to partake in, not even my dashing God son to entertain me” he sighed, dramatically, to no one in particular. James rolled his eyes at his best friend’s antics, chucking a frilly throw-pillow at his face (that’s what they’re for, right?) which he just as easily caught. 

“Har-Har! Ever the clown, Paddy,” James mocked, flipping him off just in time for his Mum to walk in and see.

“James! Don’t aim such crude displays at my son,” she scolded, wrapping her wrinkled arms around Sirius’ shoulders from behind his chair. She leaned down, kissing the top of his head affectionately. Sirius only whimpered in agreement, leaning into her motherly touch and whining on and on about how James was being a right bully. 

“My sweet child, I’ve missed you!” She beamed down at him, and that longing Sirius sometimes felt for his own Mother’s approval, her devotion or fondness, it lessened. 

“But you didn’t– He was just!-- You missed– arghh!” James groaned defeatedly, head flailed back to rest against the sofa, receiving no sympathies from his giggling wife and glaring Mother. “I’m starting to understand why she hates you.”

Sirius’ eyes flashed at that– did you really hate him? Had it gotten to that point?

At the mention of your name but current absence, Mrs Potter ordered, “Go call your sister for dinner, I’ve set the table.” 

He began to protest, failing to come up with a half-decent reason why he can’t walk up the two flights of stairs and pull your petulant frame from your bed– but Sirius interrupted in time, before James could make any more of a fool himself in front of his own Mother.

“I’ll go get her. Got to figure out what I did this time,” he offered coolly. 

Euphemia, that is, Mrs Potter, had a strict no-apparting rule in her house, had lost too many expensive vases from James and Sirius’ apparition-sprees the second they’d turned seventeen.

You already had your licence, having been of legal age for some time, and had, since graduating (top of the class, as you tended to point out, much to your Ravenclaw friends’ dismay) from Hogwarts, found a job at a school in the muggle world, teaching children English Literature in preparation of some exam -- O Levels, you’d called them. 

Sirius thought it to be some sort of torture device - these O Levels – but you’d smacked him across the head in admonishment with whatever book was in your hand before he could say much else. Having a family-run bookshop made it so that the books, or the weapons (in Sirius' mind at least), were in endless supply for you.

Your love for reading had come from him, your Father, from when he’d stay up till the late hours of the night, hushed whispers under your bed sheet so your Mother wouldn’t hear, as he read you the Classics in animated voices that had you completely enchanted. He made sparks fly from the tip of his wand, bright colours that your little eyes couldn’t quite get enough of.

You loved being a wizard, were eternally grateful for the world you lived in and the undeniable awe of it all. But words, books, literature – they were enough magic for you, took you to places you could only ever dream to visit, and had you feeling such all-consuming emotions that sometimes, you wondered if you’d ever make it to the end of the page, or chapter, or book. 

“Oi– your Mum’s put out dinner, she’s calling you downstairs,” he called through the thick wood of your door. 

Sirius didn’t know why he such an uneasy feeling settled into the pit of his stomach, like he'd swallowed some moldy bread or a particularly strong cider.

He's known you your whole life, watched you graduate from pencil to quill, and then again from Hogwarts.

Two years was a long a time, and the thought of you holding what he had said all those months ago -- what he hadn't meant, not really -- he was dreading the confrontation.

He nudged the door open when you didn’t respond, only to find you slumped across your bed, glaring, silently, at the ceiling and the pale-orange ring of light from the lamp on your bedside table.

You certainly looked different– older, possibly? He couldn’t quite place what had changed, only that he knew something had. In the way you dressed, styled your hair, held yourself. Even the look of your room– no longer plastered in repeated patterns of owls and roses, but instead a single wall painted a burnt umber and with the remaining covered in tapestries and muggle band posters hanging across every wall.

A stack of vinyls were shoved into one side of your room, along with stacks of books, some old and missing a few pages, while others were untouched. 

You heard the door click open, sitting up on your elbows to see a Sirius, oozing an annoying amount of effortless confidence, and leaning against your doorframe. 

Something in your chest stumbled almost immediately. He looked the same as the day he'd scolded you before leaving, and those stupid, brown eyes of his, like murky swamps you wouldn't be caught dead looking into, were training on you.

Though, he might’ve managed to actually tan, now that you really looked at him, imagining the broad planes of his shoulders, hidden by a thin linen button up, were more sun-kissed than milky-pale now. 

Except you refused to even entertain the thought. You were not thinking of him or his skin or his bare chest or--

“What’s with your face?” you asked, already knowing you'd regret the answer.

“Was that meant to be a greeting?” His eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Hi Sirius-- what’s with your face?” you answered, again, between clenched teeth. 

“You changed your room,” was his only response, and really, what did he expect to say to that?

"I did. Figured I'd use your absence wisely," you snarked back, meeting his gaze as you continued, "--you know, finally grow up and all that."

And you hadn't forgotten, but he didn't blame you.

You got up at his lack of silence, walking the few steps up to him, head tilted like a cat, wary of her surroundings but curious nonetheless.

"Was there something you wanted, Sirius?"

And fuck if the way you said his name didn't have him fighting whatever foreign feeling, urge, instinct was shouting at him in that moment.

You walked past, trembling as your shoulders touched, making it all the way to the bottom of the stairs before you had your moment of revelation as well.

Somehow, whether it had been a slow process over his two-year absence or something far more sudden in the past few minutes, he'd wormed his way back between the cracks of your heart, and this time, you worried you wouldn't survive.

The quiet jingle of the bell tickled your ears as you opened the door to the bookshop, dust immediately invading your senses as you fought back a harsh cough.

Your Dad pushed in front of you, forcing the door to stay open by propping a stack of intimidatingly large books in front of it. You laughed silently to yourself, noting how they were all Dickens (he hated Dickens, said his novels were disturbingly boring and unnecessarily detailed). 

“So, you can dust a little, and sweep the floor, before we open. Count the money in the till, as well, that’s very important,” he noted off, and you suddenly wished you had a pen and a pad of paper to write it all down.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t been helping out at the shop since when you were younger, but this was the first time you’d been granted the responsibility of having it all to yourself (minus the inconvenience that was Sirius Black). 

You were deemed an adult now – loved to point it out any chance you got, and that meant that your Dad trusted you enough to not hover over your shoulder every time you took a shift. He was working fewer hours, though now, none, as he wanted to finish the novel he’d been writing for the past decade after melodramatically announcing at the dinner table that “It’s time!” 

You weren’t sure what that exactly meant, but you weren’t about to argue with the man paying you an overly generous ten pounds an hour. 

You didn’t need the money for yourself, what with still living at your parent’s house, but you wanted to contribute to the house and expenses and what not, even if it was a minuscule sum. 

“Another thing,” he added, stopping, rather abruptly, in front of you, voice worryingly grave as he placed his large palms over either of your shoulders. “Please,” he begged, brows dipping, “don’t fight with Sirius in front of the customers.”

“I haven’t even done anything and you’re already after me,” you objected, pulling back from his usually comforting hold and pulling the broom out from behind the counter. His hands fell defeatedly against his sides as he sighed, standing in your way before you could mope yourself into a tizzy before the work day had even started. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he ensured, pulling you into his tight embrace once more. “You know you’re my number one, sweetheart. Just don’t like seeing you so upset.”

James always teased you for being your Father’s favourite, and you’d never argue, relishing in his pointed fingers and sneering words, because it was true– there was something between you and your Father, an understanding that no one else had clued in on.

He eased your worries like no one else could, smoothed irked creases across your face, replacing them with belly-hurting laughter lines and a grin so wide, you were worried it would fall off your face.

Anyway, James was the same with your Mum. You found her difficult to communicate with, what with her being as hot-heated as you were, so as much as you and your Dad got along, you butted heads with your Mum just as much.

“It’s ‘cause you two are so similar, like twins, I tell you!” But it did little to calm your nerves around her, or stoke the flames of anger you so often felt. 

You were about to respond, ready to tell your Dad just how much you loved him, when someone crashed through the door, slamming into the counter you were standing behind. You turned, eyes connecting with your (late) colleague. He looked utterly windswept, as if he’d run – or been chased – the whole way there. 

“You okay, son?” your Dad asked, worry shifting from you to the panting, bent-over Sirius. 

“Me? Oh– peachy, just– peachy,” he answered between heavy breaths, waving off his doting hands. “Sorry I’m late, got a little carried away with something and lost track of time.”

You were conscious of how your Dad didn’t offer Sirius the same advice, to not pick a fight or argue or whatever it was the two of you did, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how he had everyone charmed.

So you busied yourself behind the till, doing as you were instructed and counting the money, writing down the number of each of the bills on a notepad you pulled from the drawer at your waist. 

Your Dad left soon after, turning the closed sign out front to open as he wished you, and Sirius, good luck. 

“Guess it’s just the two of us, little Potter,” Sirius pointed out, already sounding bored as he fell into a stool at your side. He leaned his head against his arm, stretching it from side to side as he groaned at his tense muscles.

You didn’t mean to stare, swore it wasn’t something you’d let become a habit, but your gaze immediately travelled to the exposed skin of his neck, zeroing in on the trail of newly-formed purple bruises  down the side.

You snorted, shaking your head at him, slamming the money compartment shut a little too aggressively so that it caught Sirius’ attention. He recognised your expression to be something close to amusement, jabbing you in your side until you were scowling and slapping his fingers away.

“What’s wrong with you– you’re acting like a fucking child,” you admonished, moving out of reach and resting a hand on your hip. 

“Why’d you make that face?” he asked instead of answering your question, nodding at you like it was you who had started it.

“It’s nothing,” you went with, hearing your Father’s words echoing in your mind from just moments ago. You needed to diffuse the situation before you really got mad, because past that point, you weren’t responsible for what you said– or did. 

So you ventured into the aisles of books, a curious Sirius on your heels, following you like a lost, yapping puppy. “If it’s nothing then why are you running away?” he pushed back.

You ignored him pointedly, stopping to stack a few books and dust along the shelves. No one had come in yet, still too early in the morning for any tourists to stumble upon your admittedly quaint but bursting shop. 

The sunlight barely filtered past the dense collection of books and mahogany shelves that lined the walls, but the windows stretched to the tall ceilings, and if you went up the spiralling staircase at the centre of the store, you’d find yourself in a cosy loft space, bathed in gold and stuffed with arm chairs and sofas for people to sit and read in. 

It was your favourite part of the store, and you were seriously debating hiding up there on your first day, just to get away from the walking-plague that followed you. 

“Come on– tell me,” he whined, standing too close for your liking. You side-stepped away, brushing a cloth against the worn covers of the Mystery section. He followed suit, returning to his previous position, and this time, you had no way out with the wall of books you’d met. 

You turned, facing him and finally acknowledged his presence. “You lied,” you stated matter-of-factly, loving that you actually had the upper-hand with him. As much as you prided yourself with being quick-witted, Sirius always seemed to find a way to stay on-top.

“Gonna have to give me something more than that, darling. Lied about what?” he countered, raising an eyebrow at you. 

You bristled at the endermeant but continued nonetheless.,

“You weren't busy. You were screwing some girl according to the bruises on your neck,” you stared pointedly at the affected area now, though it was covered by his hair in this position. His hand flew to his neck, as if hoping to shield them from your gaze.

“That’s none of your business Potter,” he countered, irritated. 

“It actually is my business when you’re both late to your job and lying to my Father,” you threw back, shoving forward and relishing in his slight stumble back– as if he hadn’t yet noticed the two of you were so so close. 

“You can’t–” his eyes were wide, worried, as he grabbed your elbow, forcing you to meet his gaze, “You can’t tell him. He’ll be so disappointed and I can’t–”

You frowned at the look of genuine distress written so plainly across of his face. If you two were anyone else, you might've let it go.

Might've--

“Well tough shit, Sirius. You’re an adult, now. This is the real world we’re talking about and not whatever fantasy you've been frolicking about these past two years." You were fuming, unnecessarily so, but both of you knew this was fight had been years in the making.

"I understand you lack the ability to form real, genuine connections but come on, Sirius. You're not a fucking teenager. Grow a pair and take some responsibility for once in your life!"

And really, you deserved it, now that you thought back. His anger was reasonable but your need to poke straight through his ribcage, wrap your fist around his heart and squeeze tight, was not. 

“Fuck you, Potter.” he bit out. “Just because you're not getting any doesn't mean the rest of us have to be equally as miserable."

It was already going to shit, Sirius was well aware of it, but he couldn't get himself to stop. To just shut up.

“Maybe if you weren’t so fucking uptight all the time someone might actually give it to you too," his voice now barely above a whisper with his anger deflated as he stared, pained, at your reaction.

And it didn’t take long for you to react -- for your hand to fly up and connect with his cheek, hard. You hadn't done anything two years ago but he thinks he saw you consider it. So the fact that you had finally, struck across the face, spoke to how different things really were. How different you were.

"Potter, I--" and he was speechless when he really shouldn't have been. He swallowed, trying again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered then, fighting the urge to look away from your glassy stare. “I’m sorry, Potter. You know I don’t mean it.”

What you hated most was that you did know. You knew you both brought out the worst in each other. Only, you could never figure out why that was. Why you wanted to hurl insults at him for every comment or look or the stupid way he’d string together the most perfect sentence and his irritating eyes and mouth and–

“Excuse me? Is anyone here?” 

You inhaled, all sudden, as if only just realising what you had done. You brushed past him without a word, needing, more than ever, to put some space between the two of you. If not for your anger then for whatever pesky emotion was seeping through your cracks.

You were (reluctantly) pulled from wherever your thoughts had been racing to as you called into the store, “Just one moment!”

Sirius debated if this was a sign for him to get back onto a train to anywhere you were not. It didn’t matter if he had no money or nowhere to be, but if it meant he could avoid maiming you with his words, he couldn’t quite see a way out of his predicament. 

“Sirius!” you shouted again, no longer faking your emotions but rather genuinely just exasperated by him once more. 

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” He managed to not get lost in the labyrinth of books, and found you by the travel section, chatting good-naturedly with a blonde in a tight dress.

“How can I help, doll?” he asked the blonde in question. His one tactic for almost every conundrum he’d ended up in was avoidance. And bloody hell was he good at it. 

He smiled at her, the customer, doing little to hide his admiration for the legs she had on display. She flushed a pretty pink, averting her gaze, lip between her teeth. Bingo! 

“Christ, you’re disgusting,” you muttered, mouth pouting and quiet enough that only he could hear.

“Only for you, sweetheart, only for you,” he bit back, not wanting the currently oblivious customer clue in on their conversation. “So, how can I help?”

“She needs that book–” you pointed to the top shelf, well out of reach. “--the green spine that says Amsterdam, but I can’t reach it and the step ladder is too heavy.”

“Alas! Only ever needed for my body, it seems,” he moaned with an irritating amount of flourish. 

“Whatever it takes to get the book down– do what you must, Black.” You patted his chest reassuringly, taking your spot, once again, behind the cash register.  

“So– planning a trip are you?” Sirius asked in between excessive displays of strength as he hauled the bulky ladder with a single hand. You glared at the girl as she swooned at him, wanting, rather unreasonably, for her to combust right where she stood.

But that was a ridiculous thought to begin with. You could barely stand to be even within a metre’s distance of the guy, let alone on the receiving end of his affections. You were tired, emotional and dehydrated. Must be. Though a glance at the clock had you realising it had barely been an hour since your day had started. 

So, maybe just emotional and dehydrated. 

“I’m going to get a coffee from across the street,” you announced, slugging your tote bag onto your shoulder as you walked past the preoccupied pair. Not waiting for a response, you stepped out into the early morning sun, frowning, for once, at the glare in your eyes and not the irritant you’d left behind. 

It was easier to refer to him as something pesky, infectious, fungus-like even, rather than the only person who knew how to break your heart (and despite your somewhat impenetrable facade, you let him do just that every time).

please please PLEASE reblog & leave some feedback <3 i'll boop you if you do x

[luveline]

hi!!! i really love your writing, i was thinking maybe i could request something for the steve zombie! au? maybe the reader and steve get separated (maybe the reader and eddie go outside of camp and don’t come back for a couple of days, so steve thinks something went wrong and maybe someone got to them) but after days they reunite and it all protective steve fluff? idk if you don’t like it it’s fine just ignore me hehe 🫶🏼

sorry this wasn't very angsty but there is fluff! ty for requesting ♡ steve zombie au. fem!reader, 1.4k

You and Eddie lie with an amicable space between you, though you've agreed to share a huge sleeping bag to conserve a modicum of heat. His hair touches your shoulder whenever he moves. 

"Why are you looking at me?" you ask. 

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly. 

"No. I… yeah, I'm okay." 

Eddie never tries anything, doesn't touch you beyond friendly pats on the shoulder or knuckle touches after a job well done. He's never given you any reason to worry, but Steve said he's a guy. He didn't think Eddie was gonna hurt you, but there was a possibility he'd flirt. All I'm saying is that it didn't take long for me to fall in love with you, Steve'd said, his hands in your waistband, tucking in your shirt. 

You laughed. Steve, you didn't like me. 

Well, not out loud. And I was dumb enough to miss how lucky I was for a while. Eddie's not that stupid. He's not gonna try nothing, but… You know, don't fall in love with him. Please.

You'd wrapped your arms around his neck and shoulders and had him take your weight, impressed and in love at the subtle strength he used to keep you both standing. Don't worry. I won't. I never would. 

Not with Steve in this world. Even then, if Steve somehow met his demise, you're pretty sure you'd be done with love. 

"Worrying about loverboy?" Eddie asks. 

You're definitely worrying about loverboy. "I told him I'd be back in the morning. It's been a whole extra day. He gets– gets so worried. Honestly, it won't surprise me if he turns up looking for us."

"You've been apart?" 

"Two or three times." You wince, thinking about Steve the last time you'd been separated. How he'd put his hands under your arms and hugged you, even though you couldn't open your eyes. The time before, how he'd cried into your stomach, hands grasping blindly at your back. "I think he worries about me 'cos I'm kind of useless." 

"That's not true. Robin told me all about your psycho takeover." 

"She did?" you ask, covering your face with your hand.

"I wanted to know why she calls you killer." 

"That's pretty much the only time I've defended myself. He always does the hard work."

"If you're really that useless, why'd you come?" He turns on his side away from you. "You're fine. You've learned to fight just like the rest of us. Steve knows you can take care of yourself. He's probably sleeping like a baby waiting for you to bring him back his new jacket." 

You dig for the necklace Steve gave you so long ago under your shirt. You'd thought you lost it, having taken it off before bed the night you escaped the College, but he had it. He gave it back. The little diamond is hard between your fingers. You press it to your lips, wondering if he's really as okay as Eddie claims.

—

Steve lies on his back in the clearing, wishing he was dead. The anxiety is genuinely so bad he's agonised and prone. 

Robin laughed at him for worrying when you didn't show up in the morning as you planned to, but by nightfall she was equally worried. A day later, she sits cross legged by his head, her hand on his arm. She's feigning reading, her bottom lip nibbled raw. 

"You want some chapstick?" he asks. 

"Nah. Stings." 

He sits up feeling like someone's kicked him all over. "The brain is a stupid organ. I'm worried about Y/N, so sure, I get to feel like a jet engine fell on me."

"She's fine." He and Robin have been playing a game where one of them mentions you and the other immediately reassures that you're alive. He quite likes it. It makes it easier to breathe. "You need to chill out, that's all. Eddie had that fucking shotgun. They're not in any danger." 

"What if she fell and broke her leg or something? He's carrying her across the country like a backpack. That should be me." 

"What if he fell and broke his leg? You wanna go give Eddie a lift?" Robin asks, grinning. 

Steve thinks the worst part is that he misses you. He's so worried about you he could throw up (he almost did at breakfast, every mouthful cement thick), but he just hates turning to talk to you and finding empty space. He misses the way you smile, your tentative hand holding, even the way you look at him. He remembers the first time he realised you liked him, how your gaze had slowly gone from annoyed to admiring, how your eyes would catch on his arms or the corner of his mouth. 

He remembers wiping sleep from your eyes, how hot your cheek felt under hand, and the pit it opened in his stomach. It's a strange thing to notice someone's fallen in love with you by themselves. He had catching up to do. It's probably why he feels like he's on death's door whenever you're not around.

"I don't wanna give Munson anything. S'already stealing my girl, smarmy bastard. They ran away to be together."

Robin gasps. He thinks, Well, I was kidding, then, Holy shit they've actually run away together.

"Stevie!" your voice echoes. "Hey! I've been looking all over for you, why are you guys out here?" 

Steve's neck clicks like a Jacob ladder as his head whips up. The fear and anxiety drains from his body, a rapid exsanguination. You look tired but blissfully alive as you jog across the grass clearing, your backpack weighed down and your empty canteens rattling against your thigh. 

Steve trips over grass whorls to get to you. Your little laugh before he grabs you drives him crazy. 

"Where the fuck have you been?" he asks. 

"Got lost. Sorry. Love you," you say, rubbing your cheek against his, your hands bunching up his shirt. You smell like dirt, grass, and tent plastic. It's frankly the best smell in the whole world. He sniffs at you greedily.

"I thought you died," he says. 

"Yeah, I did. Eddie gave me sloppy CPR–" You screech as Steve sweeps your leg from under you and giggle as he holds you up, begging for forgiveness as he threatens to drop you. "Sorry, it was just so easy! You set it up for me!" 

You laugh as he drags a kiss along your jaw, his stubble scramming your softer skin. 

"I love you," he says, "even if you're seeing other boys."

"Never." You close your eyes and wait for a kiss. Steve's more happy that you expect one than he is to give one, which is saying a lot —he wants to kiss you bad enough to feel the phantom of it before he's closed the gap between you. 

He gives you way too many kisses. 

You push your head down into the crook of his neck and hold him tight. "Sorry I didn't come back when I said I would. Didn't scare you too much, did I? 

He was scared shitless. "No, it's alright. It's okay."

He takes your face into his hands and checks you're all in one piece. Same smile. Same dazzled squint when he kisses you. 

You leave his arms too soon for his liking. Robin waits patiently for her own hug, less so when you shed your backpack. She hugs you as it falls to the floor. 

"Miss me?" you ask into her hair. 

"Thought I'd be stuck with mopey Steve forever." Her insult doesn't land, her voice heavy with relief. "You know coming back in the morning doesn't mean any morning, right? Just checking." 

"Sorry, Robin. I missed you." 

"Eddie bad company?" 

"He's nice, he's just not you guys." 

Steve puts a hand on your back, fingers hooked in your belt loop. "Where is he?"

"Playing Peter Pan in the mess tent. I got you guys the best winter jackets ever. Though me and you are sort of matching, Steve." You look at him over your shoulder sheepishly. "Sorry." 

"The horror," he murmurs. 

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM THE TRUMAN SHOW (1998) *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary.

it isn't always shakespeare, but it's genuine.

i'm not going to make it. you're going to have to go on without me.

you're crazy, you know that?

well, for me, there is no difference between a private life and a public life.

it's all true. it's all real. nothing here is fake.

i have love handles?

in case i don't see you! good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight!

what the hell is wrong with your job?

can't get any further away before you start coming back.

it's not that simple. it takes money. planning. can't just up and go.

i don't like the look of that weather. i think we should head back.

you're talking like a teenager.

we need adventure.

i thought we were going to try for a baby.

i might as well pick one of these up while i'm at it.

i almost hugged a perfect stranger in the salon last thursday.

you're just feeling bad because of what happened.

i've never blamed you. and i don't blame you now.

i made macaroni!

i've been such a klutz all day!

you're a better person than i am.

you know, [name], i'm not allowed to talk to you.

i can understand that. i'm a pretty dangerous character.

would you wanna, maybe, possibly... sometime go out for some pizza or something?

if we don't go now, it won't happen. do you understand?

we have so little time.

they don't want me talking to you.

i've never seen you before today.

if you don't tell me what's happening, i'll report you!

i think i'm mixed up in something.

you're going to get both of our asses fired, you know that?

just between you and me, i'm going away for a while.

i need to talk to you, but let's go outside.

can you pass along a message?

i'm sorry to keep you.

i guess i'm being spontaneous.

you're blaming me for the traffic?

i'm sorry. i don't know what got into me.

you want to destroy yourself? do it on your own.

why do you want to have a baby with me?

what the hell are you talking about?

you're having a nervous breakdown.

you're part of this, aren't you?

whatever the answer was, we were right together, and we were wrong together.

you're the closest thing i ever had to a brother.

i'd gladly walk in front of traffic for you.

the last thing i'd ever do is lie to you.

i never stopped believing.

let's get some champagne up here!

don't you ever feel guilty?

look at what you've done to him!

give me the phone.

was nothing real?

you never had a camera in my head.

i know you better than you know yourself.

[zgvlt]

sending your crush a survey form hcs part 2 second years x reader (separate) -> riddle, ruggie, azul

author's note: jade, floyd, kalim, jamil, and silver will be posted separately because of the tumblr image limit, i can't fit them all into one post (also i'm having trouble with massive lag for this post as is huhu)

general tags: gn reader, fluff + attempt at humor, sfw, not beta read, mix of text and images (for images, alt text/image description available)

part 1 w/ first years

character: RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS premise/trope: sending Riddle an "academic survey" to answer

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

You've done too good a job at making the link look legit, at hiding your intentions. Using a link shortener like twst.ly so that no preview would show up, talking about how you needed respondents, all that jazz.

Riddle would help any student in need (academically) if he was capable of doing so, he was just that kind of person, but because he liked you he was very willing to go above and beyond.

He was going to help anyway, but telling him things like "I really appreciate you doing this for me," seals the deal for him.

You had a survey that needed answering and you wanted him to answer it because you needed respondents? Well, what if he sends the link to other people as well?

He asks you about how much respondents you still need, though you don't respondent yet. He decides to delay sending it to the rest of Heartslabyul for now, only sending it to Cater and Trey.

Thank the Sevens for that.

Trey and Cater are immediately poking fun at him, telling him to actually open the survey first because they knew that he wouldn't want to send it to anyone if he saw the contents.

"Aren't you lucky you sent this to us and not the rest of Heartslabyul?"

"How embarrassed would you have been if you sent this to the Dorm Leaders gc?"

"Or worse... to Ace and Deuce."

He's rather angry, not necessarily at you (though he is a little bit annoyed, could you not have done something else less... troublesome?) but mostly at himself for not checking first. He should be more vigilant next time.

RIDDLE: Cater said this was a trend, but... I still don't understand why you would make something like this.

You haven't responded yet, so Riddle decides to answer the form all the way through.

In his head he wonders, whatever happened to regular courtship? Like he's not flustered by the whole situation.

Riddle's answers carry that tone where it feels like he's seriously questioning your intentions/decisions, but also like he's trying to answer genuinely. It's almost like he's trying to let you have your cake and eat it too (that is to say, letting you have your fun) despite not being quite sure of how to go about it.

The point is, the fact that he actually answers it is a miracle in itself, and you don't shy from letting him know you appreciate it.

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

Actively seeks you out in person to confront you about the form. He has a feeling you were being serious about it despite the formatting, so he pretty much confirms that you do like him.

Also asks you why you would want to go about it this way, and most answers don't exactly satisfy him, but at the end of the day he's happy about the results.

You like him, he likes you, and that's what's important, really.

(Though he has no real intentions of telling his mother that he's getting into a relationship, he wonders how she would react if she found out not only did he not ask his s/o out first, but that you did it in such a bizarre manner)

"I don't think I would even give this the time of day if someone else sent it," Riddle tells you honestly, "but because it's you... even something this weird is endearing."

character: RUGGIE BUCCHI premise/trope: sending Ruggie the classic crush form, except you send it when he's busy with work and now he can't concentrate because he's too busy blushing and giggling and kicking his legs at the thought of you 👍👍

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

He hadn't planned on viewing any of your messages at first (or anyone's messages, really). He planned on viewing them once he finished up for the day.

But Leona was getting annoyed with the constant beeping, and honestly he was too (like, couldn't they just send it all in one message, whatever it was they wanted to say?) so he moved to view the messages quickly, maybe answer if he felt like it, then mute his phone for an hour.

Except he saw that the messages were from you, and he caught a peep of the link preview... and then he just lost it.

"It" being all sense of focus and comprehension and he knows it's bad because Leona's staring at him weirdly.

"Why are you blushing and giggling like a school girl what the hell..."

Leona just doesn't get it, Ruggie justifies. When the actual love of your life confirms their feelings for you it's enough to make anyone collapse to the floor and weep, and if anything Ruggie is holding up pretty well by, well, still being able to fold a shirt properly in spite of it all.

And then he almost messes up the laundry by mixing the colors with the whites, so maybe he is too distracted after all.

RUGGIE: ya rly hda to go send it now of all times, dontcha?? do ya want me to embarras myself in fornt of leona or smth???? wth have mercy on me

He makes a bunch of typos but he can't be bothered to correct them.

He can't really focus for the rest of the day, and when he's free from his assigned tasks he heads straight for his phone. He should be studying, but he doesn't think he can focus on that at this point without reading the form and just... seeing if you're for real, for real.

Ruggie answers like he's trying to be slick but he also can't help but slip in just how much he likes you and the types of reactions you get out of him.

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

He needs to call you (honestly would prefer to meet up in person, but it's pretty damn late and he wants you to get your rest and... yeah, the in person talk can wait for a little bit)

Honestly you've just... lightened up his mood, like a lot. Like he just knows he's going to be full of energy and motivation tomorrow, and maybe the days after because of how much happiness you've given him.

You can tease him all you want for his answers and the spelling/grammar mistakes (in his defense, his hands were shaking the whole time!) but he can't even get himself to be too upset by it. You're laughing and giggling and that's all enough for Ruggie's good mood to skyrocket.

After that dies down, though, the two of you end up planning for your upcoming date.

"Don't think I'm not gonna getcha back for this, shishishi..."

character: AZUL ASHENGROTTO premise/trope: sending an s/o application form to Azul, who's been crushing on you for a while now

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

Makes sure to check the link properly first since bait links are popular these days (he learned his internet safety from Idia). Messages you in a different platform to ask if you've been hacked.

When you tell him you were the one who sent the link, it still doesn't quite sink in that you're being genuine. Before a crush you are a friend and he does trust you, but a part of him wonders if this is some prank or if someone forced you to send him something like that. You must know how badly he likes you, don't you? Please don't make fun of his feelings like this.

He calls you to really make sure, and with some reassurance from you he finally understands that this isn't something mean, that it was a trend you wanted to hop on, and that you won't judge him for his answers

You tell him that he doesn't have to answer if it makes him uncomfortable, that you just thought it seemed fun, but he tells you he does want to answer it.

"If... if you really consider me as someone who could become your partner... When opportunity knocks on my door, who am I to not answer its call?"

He tries to sound more confident, but inevitably hangs up because he doesn't think he can answer properly with you on the phone. He might end up typing a bunch of nonsense!

Azul struggles with having a fun answer and answering completely seriously, almost like it's a job interview or something. Doesn't realize until the last few questions that there are no other candidates to compete with. Maybe he should have skimmed all the questions first before answering.

The good thing, though, is that you do learn about how Azul sees romance, so even if the whole form was meant as something silly at first you do learn more about him.

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

The last two questions gave Azul some confidence when it came to pursuing you. There's just something reassuring about actually knowing that his feelings weren't unrequited as opposed to having to make assumptions or having to make the effort to get you to fall for him.

You've already made most of the first moves, from confessing your feelings (albeit not quite in person, maybe he could try doing that...), to being the one to ask him on a date... There must be something he can do. He wants to play on equal ground, make the first move as well.

That's when the idea strikes him. It's not very innovative, but there's no need to fix what's not broken, is there?

Azul sits in front of his laptop for approximately an hour, and when he's satisfied he converts the file into a PDF. It's not a very serious document, even if it's formatted as such, and that's how you know that he's finally eased up.

"Since I've passed the application period, the next step is to sign a partnership contract, is it not?"

masterlist | end notes

[ 1 ] twst.ly is basically bit.ly, the link shortener

[ 2 ] compared to part 1 (the first years) where it was set post-NRC, this time i set it during NRC. the remaining second years will also be set during NRC, though the third years is mixed 👍

[ 3 ] the text versions of the images are in the alt text/image description but do let me know if you would prefer it to be in the post itself!

[ 4 ] i'm thinking about whether i should continue making the forms manually instead of just using the actual google forms app, it's such a hassle my laptop keeps overheating these days huhu

[sexydoffyman]

day 21 - PROSTITUTION

John Price

navigation

genre: smut

mdni

A/N: I'm starting to question why are there people still waiting for this, considering my unannounced 1-week breaks.

Your country was at war. Everyone was panicking, trying to get the hell out of there as soon as possible. Companies were crashing, and people started losing their jobs. People were desperate for even a little bit of money.

You knew you couldn't turn a blind eye to the situation when the war broke out. Everyone thought it would be a one-week thing. No one knew how wrong they were. Fortunately, you found a job right after the announcement.

Sure, this job was described as "unethical" or "dirty", but it got the job done. You had a place to live and food to eat. You understood that the job was risky. And sometimes, some dudes really went far beyond your comfort zone. Well... sometimes is an understatement. It got to the point where dudes not breaking the ground rules was a rarity.

Even tho these things happened, sometimes you knew that during an attack, you'd be most likely spared or even protected. No one would want to lose a sex worker in such a situation.

Your customers were mostly military men and cops. Sometimes, you'd even find yourself a drug dealer. Good news has been spread about the British army joining the war and allying with your country. That also meant that the foreigners would be more inclined to pay more.

One day, you met this particular military man. He was always walking around the building as they had received some intel on the enemy soldiers. You met him in a hallway. You wanted to buy a candy bar. You were exhausted after your last customer.

But just as you walked up to the automat you realised you had no money on you. You sat on the floor in front of the automat and groaned in frustration.

Suddenly, you heard some beeps and thuds inside of the automat. You looked up and saw a man staring down at you with a soft smile. He was handing you a candy bar. You recognised him by the hat he always wore. You took it, still kind of disoriented, as he nodded and walked away.

You stood up quickly and yelled out a "Thank you!" He only waved at you as he kept walking down the hall. You kept bumping into him more and more. You always smiled at him, and he smiled back at you. It was a nice, friendly interaction.

As time went on, the stress took a huge toll on him. He was tired, and he wasn't able to focus. And with all of the weight on his shoulders he decided that he would think rationally and slept with someone.

But finding anyone who would be dtf in this horrible time would be hard. So he decided the second best thing he could come up with.

You heard a knock on your door. You got up, taking all of your strength to smile as you opened the door. You really weren't expecting him to show up. He didn't say a word he just handed you a stack of money. It was like three times more than you usually got.

You smiled at him, this time the smile being more genuine. You invited him in and closed the door behind you. He put the money on a small table that was in the room. You went to ask him if he wanted anything specific, but he already picked you up.

He knew what he wanted and felt a little embarrassed that he had to take such measures. He gently put you on the bed and put your legs on his hips. He closed his eyes and kissed you softly. You kissed him back and waited for what was about to come. You knew he was a military man. And from your experience, it was the military men that usually took advantage of you.

You could already feel the bulge in his pants. He pulled your pants off while still kissing you. He then took his own. He didn't waste a second and slipped into you. You were surprised by the stretch. He was huge, and he was aware of it. He didn't want to hurt such a sweet thing.

He pushed in gently and started to move his hips. You usually hated the sex, but this time it was different. He was sensual. It felt almost loving. You whined a bit. He felt the stress wash off him as he listened to your sounds.

He didn't have to be rough to make you go crazy. He caressed your cheeks and peppered you with kisses. He felt himself get close. He got a little more talkative. "You feel so good, sweetheart." "Just like that, darling." The nicknames he gave you made you shiver. You felt the knot in your stomach snap.

Your back arched as you made a sweet sound. The thought of making you cum made Price feel things he couldn't describe. He pulled out and finished into his hand. You laid on your back as he put you down gently. He took a tissue and cleaned his hand with it.

He didn't understand how much of a sweetheart he was to you. He just thought about the time he saw you so exhausted. He put a few extra dollars on the table and left.

You walked up to the table and chuckled, knowing he'd be there for a couple more months and that he couldn't resist you.

You just had to teach him that he's not obliged to pay that much. (He still pays you huge amounts of money.)

[persephonewritessometimes]

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader

Where after months ( cuz shes new n young working there)they cant také anymore their attraction to each other.

Key sentences: Hotch: I’m old enough to be your father. R: Should I call you Daddy then?

Smut n fluff

Please

Author's Note: oooo thank you for this request anon!! thinking many thoughts, head very full

Summary: It's no secret that you have a thing for your boss - a man 25 years your senior. What happens when he reveals he has feelings for you too?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x (AFAB) Reader

Word Count: 5108 (i got carried away hehe)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! UNDER 18? PLEASE KEEP SCROLLING! SMUT; DADDY KINK; SIR KINK; OVERSTIMULATION; MULTIPLE ORGASMS; UNPROTECTED P IN V (don't be like them y'all, stay safe); DOM!HOTCH, SUB!READER; READER IS HORNY; FINGERING; ORAL (F RECEIVING) reader gets distracted by Hotch's hands, pining, confession of feelings, reader blacks out from cumming really hard; Hotch calls reader "good girl, princess, baby"; Morgan is a cheeky bastard (as per usual)

This work is meant for readers aged 18 and over. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

“Y/N, you're staring, again," Morgan says with a chuckle and I quickly find somewhere else to look that isn't our section chief. Which I was definitely not having rated-R thoughts about.

"Shut up, Morgan," I mutter.

"Why don't you just tell him how you feel?" I turn and stare at him now, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Sure, why don't I just tell a much older man that every time I look at him, I feel weak in the knees and sweaty? That would really go over well." I say, sarcastically.

"We're getting tired of watching you eye-fuck him, Y/N." Emily sighs, jumping into the conversation.

"It's getting kind of pathetic at this point," Morgan adds and I smack him on the shoulder.

"You guys are being mean. Let me pine in peace."

"Y/N, none of us are at peace when you start acting like a dog in heat every time Hotch walks in the room. It's genuinely hard to watch." Morgan shoots back, grinning at me. I feel my cheeks grow hot at his brazen comment. "Just put us out of our misery and get laid for once, damn." I feel my cheeks growing even hotter.

"He - he doesn't like me like that." I'm tripping over my words, embarrassed that everyone can see what's clearly written by my body language when Hotch is around.

"Y/N, sweetie, you're smart, but sometimes you're an idiot," Emily says kindly. "He likes you."

"Trust us, we know," Morgan adds.

"How?" I say and cross my arms over my chest.

"Really? Okay. Whenever he's giving a briefing and you're standing next to him, his body gravitates towards yours, you're the first person he looks for in every room, Y/N, two weeks ago on that case in Charleston he almost throttled the officer that merely tried to flirt with you."

"Wait, that officer was flirting with me?" I've only been here a few months, so I haven't learned how to read people as well as him yet.

"Oh my god, she actually is an idiot." Morgan groans. "Yes! He always got you coffee refills without asking, offered you the first pick of the donuts, and gave you, and only you, a very thorough tour of the precinct. He was trying to impress you." He looks at me closely. "How the fuck did you get this job?" I shrug.

"Impeccable academic record?" I suggest timidly, and he snorts.

"Just pay attention to Hotch. More than you are already. You'll see."

"He's old enough to be my dad," I say.

"Why do I have the feeling that only fuels your fantasies?" Morgan mutters. "I'm done with this conversation. Either you tell him, Y/N, or I will."

"MORGAN!" He just throws his hands up in the air giving me an exasperated look. "Em? A little back up here?"

"As much as I hate to agree with Morgan, he has a point. It’s kind of hard to focus on work when we all know what’s going on except for you two. I mean this in the nicest way possible, but just say something, for the sake of everyone who has to be in a room with you guys. I could cut the tension between you two like a knife.” She gives me a small smile.

“I- I’m just nervous. What if you guys are wrong?” She places her hand over mine.

“We’re not wrong, Y/N. We even asked Reid to weigh in and he agrees with us. Just say something.” I frown and head back to my desk, needing to be alone with my thoughts for a while. I’m deep in a stack of paperwork when Hotch calls the team into a meeting. I sigh, set my pen aside, and make my way into the boardroom. I’m on high alert, due to Morgan’s comment, and as I step into the room, I glance at Hotch to find him already looking at me. He looks away quickly and I watch as the tips of his ears turn pink. Oh my god, they were right.

I’m hyper-aware of him the whole meeting, so much so that I barely heard a word he was saying.

“Y/N? Are you paying attention?” Hotch asks, looking at me.

“Uh, yes, sir.” I blurt out in a panic. I wasn’t expecting him to directly address me.

“YES SIR?” Morgan hollers. “That’s a new one.” Even Em is hiding a smile behind her hand. Hotch glares at him.

“Don’t tease her, Morgan. Y/N, please pay attention.”

“I will, sorry Hotch.” He just nods and goes back to what he was saying. I tried to pay attention I really did but I found myself watching his hands as he talked. He gestures at the screen, then to something in the paper he had given us, then puts his hand on his hip. His fingers are so thick I wonder if two would even fit inside of me. I’m thinking about him fingering me on his desk, pussy splayed and dripping for him, and I shift in my seat, feeling the wetness in my panties. Dammit, Y/N, don’t get carried away.

“Y/N, seriously,” Hotch sighs a few minutes later and I’m dragged from my dirty daydream. “I need you to pay attention or leave. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Morgan whispers with a grin. I glare at him.

“I’m trying to pay attention, I swear.”

“Are you sick? You look a bit warm, why don’t you step out for a few minutes.” I just nod, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. “And I want to see you in my office when we’re done with this meeting.” I nod again and feel my stomach drop to my ass in nervousness. I quickly walk out of the room and am pacing when the door opens up and Morgan walks out, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“What the hell were you thinking about in there?” He whispers, then pauses, “Actually, I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Just leave me alone, Morgan. I’m embarrassed enough already.” I say quietly.

“Oh, baby girl, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease you too much. You’re just an easy target. If it helps any, Hotch was downright flushed after you left. He stumbled over his words. Twice. I’ve never seen him that flustered. It’s like he knew what you were thinking about.” He nudges me with his shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, okay?”

“You’re not the one who has to face him in his office,” I grumble.

“Well, just make sure you guys close the blinds.”

“MORGAN! Shut up!” He’s laughing as he walks away. JJ and Em shoot me sympathetic smiles as they walk by and Reid pats me on the shoulder. Hotch doesn’t say a word as he walks out of the boardroom, and I diligently follow him to his office.

“Take a seat.” He says, gesturing at the chair and my eyes follow his hand again. Y/N! Stop! That’s what got you in trouble in the first place! I quickly take a seat, clasping my hands in my lap. “Now do you want to tell me why you were so distracted today?” He asks, looking at me. I feel the heat creep up my chest and onto my cheeks.

“I-um-no. No, I don’t.” He raises an eyebrow at that.

“Really? Because Morgan seems to have an idea. Maybe I should go ask him what he thinks.”

“No!” I blurt out. “Sorry. It’s just…embarrassing.” He just looks at me and I sigh before whispering, “Your hands. I was distracted by your hands.”

“My…hands?” He says slowly.

“Yes, sir, I mean Hotch, sorry. I know it’s not appropriate and I apologize.”

“What is it about my hands?” He asks, his voice low and in a tone that makes my heartbeat travel down to my pussy. I shift in my seat, a movement that most likely does not go unnoticed by him. “Y/N. Look at me.” I take a shaky breath and look up at him, all rational thoughts leaving my head when I see that his cheeks are pink, and his pupils are so blown I can barely see the brown. “What is it. About my hands.” He enunciates every word.

“They’re big,” I whisper.

“And what does that make you think about?”

“Please don’t make me say it.”

“No, no I want to hear you say it.”

In the smallest voice possible I say, “I was wondering if your fingers would even fit in me.” I hear him take in a sharp breath. “What it would feel like to be spread out on your desk with - with your fingers inside of me.”

“Careful, Y/N, you’re walking a thin line.” He murmurs.

“Haven’t I crossed it already, sir?”

“I’m old enough to be your father.” He says, words clipped. I get a sudden burst of confidence and stare him down.

“Should I call you Daddy, then?” I ask sweetly. I watch as he tightens his jaw.

“Watch your mouth, little girl. You don’t want to see how mean Daddy can get.”

“And what if I want to find out, Daddy?” I watch as his nostrils flare and he takes a deep breath.

“That’s enough, Y/N.” He spits out and I still, and fear that I’m about to lose my job to ill-timed arousal. My breath hitches as he leans back in his chair, eyes carefully watching me. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Whatever you’d like to, sir,” I say simply and I watch his jaw tick again.

“Listen to me very carefully. We are going to go downstairs, you are going to gather your things, and you are not going to say a single word. I’m going to tell everyone that you’re not feeling well enough to drive, so I’m taking you home.” I swallow hard, not believing that this is actually happening right now. “Do you understand?” I nod quickly. “I need to hear you say you understand. Or else this stops now, and we don’t speak of it again.”

“I understand completely, sir.”

“Good girl.” He says in a low voice and a whimper escapes me before I can shove it down. He stiffens. “Do you like that? Hearing that you’re a good girl?” My pussy clenches around nothing, begging to be filled.

“Yes, Daddy.” He hums, getting up quickly and my mouth goes dry when I see the tented fabric of his pants. He shrugs off his suit jacket and slings it over his forearm and in front of his body, effectively hiding his raging boner. He walks over to me, and I hastily get up from the chair, and he grabs my arm, gripping it just hard enough to keep me grounded and lucid despite the lust-filled thoughts in my head. He yanks open his office door and we make our way down the stairs. I keep my head down as we approach my desk, the bullpen so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“Y/N isn’t feeling well. I’m driving her home.” Hotch says, letting go of my arm so I can grab my jacket and purse. I glance at him, nodding that I have everything, and he grabs my arm again, and we hastily walk towards the elevator.

“GO EASY ON HER, HOTCH!” Morgan shouts, and I hear Em laugh.

“Shut up, Morgan.” Hotch growls over his shoulder, and I glance back at Morgan, who mouths ‘Good luck’ at me. “Don’t look at him. The only person you should be looking at is me, princess.” We get in the elevator, and he pushes the button so hard I think that he’s going to break the damn thing.

“Jesus, what’s got you so riled up?” I say sweetly, not caring that I’d probably pay for that question later. I just want to see him snap, lose that carefully cultivated control and unleash himself on me. He turns on me in a second, caging my body between the wall of the elevator and the hard planes of his body. He grabs my chin, tilting my face up to look at him.

“Watch yourself. I’d hate for you to get into something you can’t handle.”

“I can take whatever you throw at me, sir.” He laughs.

“Yeah, right, princess. Keep talking a big game – we’ll see how far that gets you.”

“Well, it got me here, didn’t it?”

“Right where you wanted, I presume?” He asks, tilting his head and there’s nothing friendly in his eyes. I just nod, sucking in a breath when he pushes his body closer to mine and his hard-on is pressing into my thigh. “Before this goes further: green for go, yellow for slow down, red for hard stop, no questions asked. Do you understand?” I nod, and he raises his eyebrows.

“I understand!” I blurt out.

“Good.” He suddenly dips his head down, nose bumping into mine as we share the same breaths for a few seconds. “I’m going to ruin you.” He whispers onto my lips, not quite kissing me.

“Please. Ruin me, Daddy,” I whisper and he’s kissing me as soon as the last word is out of my mouth. It’s overwhelming, the way he kisses, stealing all the air from my lungs in a millisecond. I gasp when the hand from my chin drops to my chest, reaching into my dress shirt and under my tank top to tweak my right nipple. He takes that opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth, tasting me. The elevator dings and his hand disappears from my shirt and his lips retreat. I whine at the sudden loss of contact, as we had just gone from 100 miles an hour to 0 miles an hour.

“I know, princess, I’m sorry. You don’t want Daddy to get caught, do you?” I shake my head vigorously and he chuckles, escorting me to his car, and opens the passenger door for me, ever the gentleman. He gets in and starts the car as I buckle my seatbelt. He backs out of the parking spot, placing one hand on the back of my headrest and I suck in a sharp breath. He glances at me. “Really? You’re turned on by my driving?”

“I can’t help it. I’m sorry.” I breathe out, not daring to look at him. My cheeks are warm, and I feel frazzled. I jump when his hand comes to rest on my thigh, dangerously close to where I want him. I shift my hips, trying to get him closer to where I need him. He smacks my thigh abruptly.

“Don’t do that. You can wait.” He says gruffly.

“I can’t. I can’t wait.” I gasp out. “Please. Please touch me. I need you. Please, sir, I’ll do anything.”

“I’ll oblige you, but only because you begged so prettily. I like it when you sound desperate. One rule though: no cumming without my permission.” His hand slips under my skirt and I thank god that this was one of the rare days I decided to wear one. His fingers ghost over my cunt, the lightest touch and my breathing is already starting to labor. When his fingers press my clit from outside my panties my hips buck into the air. “Someone’s responsive.” He says, more to himself than me. His fingers trail lower, and he groans when he feels the wet spot. “Already this wet for me, princess?”

“Only for you, Daddy.” I whimper when he pushes my panties to the side, hand now free to touch as he pleases. His fingers come up to tease my clit again before one deftly slips inside of me. I let out a choked sound, tight around him. Just one finger feels thick, and when he slips in another finger I keen, tightening again.

“Jesus, you’re tight.” He curls his fingers and hits that spot inside of me that I struggle to hit by myself. I gasp, hand closing around his wrist, and I don’t know if I’m trying to stop him or egg him on. He continues to work his fingers in me as he drives and I’m not sure how he’s managing to stay on the road. I know I should reciprocate but the feeling of his fingers plunging in and out of me has made every thought I’ve ever had flee my brain. After a few minutes, my thighs start to shake and I’m panting, so close to a mind-blowing orgasm that I forget he told me I can’t cum without his permission. His fingers slip out of me seconds before I hit my peak.

“NO!” I shout, shaking in the passenger seat, sitting in a small puddle of my own arousal. I hope it stains his impeccable leather seats.

“Only good girls get to cum, and you haven’t been a good girl today, baby,” He says, “Open.” I open my mouth and he slips the fingers he just had inside of me into my awaiting mouth. I suck his fingers off earnestly, just like I would to his cock if he gave me the chance. He pulls his fingers out with a pop and I realize he’s parked the car in his garage. Is this really happening? I think to myself. “Color?” He asks me, turning my face so I can look into his eyes. I could get lost in his eyes.

“Green,” I say quickly.

“Good girl,” He whispers and meets my mouth in a messy kiss full of tongue, need, and teeth.

I don’t know how we made it inside, but as soon as I cross through the doorway, Hotch throws me over his shoulder, and I shriek. He carries me to the bedroom, dropping me on the bed. I’m paralyzed as I watch him rip his tie off, dress shirt following soon after. He’s beautiful, and I want to run my hands all over him and feel every scar. My eyes are tracing his chest and ever the profiler, he notices.

“You can touch. It’s okay.” He walks over to me, planting himself between my legs. I timidly touch his stomach, trailing my hands up his abdomen, running my fingers along his scars in quiet admiration. He suddenly takes my hand, kissing it, a break in the dominant façade. I give him a soft smile, one that has always been reserved for him, and his breath hitches in his chest. His hands cup my face, looking into my eyes, and I’ve never felt safer than I have at this moment. I close my eyes, leaning into his touch, my hands resting on his wrists. It feels like we’re the only people in the world, two souls destined to collide. His next kiss is gentle as if he doesn’t want to ruin the moment, but he tosses his resolve out the window when I bite his bottom lip. He growls, pushing me onto my back and stepping out of his pants and boxers. I push myself up on my elbows to watch him and gasp when he’s revealed to me completely. He’s big. Bigger than I’ve had before. I knew it would be big because of his damn hands. “You’re far too dressed for my liking.” He mutters, and the next moment he actually rips my shirt off of me, buttons flying everywhere.

“HOTCH!” He stops, looking at me.

“Try again, sweetheart.”

“Sorry. Daddy.”

“Much better. And Daddy will buy you a new one, okay?” I nod, suddenly unable to think as he slides off my tank top and unclasps my bra. My nipples are aching to be touched and as if he can read my mind, his head dips down to take my left nipple in his mouth. I suck in a breath, my hand coming to rest on the back of his head. His tongue laves over my nipple, and I swear I see God for a moment. He moves to the other side and my cunt is begging for attention. He slides my skirt and panties off without once leaving my chest. And when I’m naked before him, he kisses his way up my throat, leaving hickeys that will definitely be hard to hide.

“Daddy, people will see.”

“And? They should know whom you belong to.” He says plainly, he leans back, admiring my form and my hips jump up on their own accord, grazing his weeping tip in the process.

“Fuck, princess, don’t do that.”

“Please, please, please, Daddy, I need you so bad.”

“Daddy has to make sure you’re ready for him. I don’t know if my fat cock will fit in your tight little pussy.” I whimper at his words, more turned on than I’ve ever been in my entire life. He slides down my body, pressing kisses into my skin as he goes until he gets on his knees, dragging me towards the edge of the bed. He slings both of my legs over his shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss into my thigh. “Your pussy is dripping for me, princess. Can I taste it?”

“Please,” I manage to whisper, and I watch as his head dips down and he licks up my pussy. He groans against my clit when he tastes me, and I shout in surprise at the added stimulation. He chuckles against me and goes to work, tongue thrusting shallowly in me before coming up to tease my clit. He’s getting me closer to the edge and when I feel two of his fingers slide into me easily, I sigh contentedly. He finds the spongy spot inside of me with ease, hitting it every time he thrusts his fingers into me. I’m hurtling towards my peak when I gasp out, “Daddy, please, I’m close, can I cum? Please? I’ll be a good girl, I promise. Your good girl.” His eyes flick up and he watches me, never stopping, and watches as my abdomen tenses and I start to clench around his fingers, panting. He pulls his mouth away from me just long enough to whisper,

“You can let go, princess.” And resumes his torturous pace on me. My hand shoots down to grip his hair and a few seconds later my orgasm rips through me. I shout loudly, hips moving with abandon against his face, and he doesn’t let up, continuing to lick and finger me through it until I’m twitching with overstimulation.

“Daddy, please, too much.”

“You wanted to cum, princess, so you’re going to cum until I’m done.” He growls and goes back to eating me out. I had no time to come down from my first orgasm and my body is already sprinting full speed ahead toward my second. My thighs clench around his face but it doesn’t stop him. He stills his fingers inside me and simply presses them into my G-spot, never letting up, just putting constant pressure on it.

I’m babbling at this point, nothing coherent coming from my lips except for ‘daddy’ and ‘please’. My orgasm blindsides me and I clench hard around his fingers and scream, not caring if anyone can hear me. My vision goes spotty as I continue to cum until he finally slips his fingers out and I feel like I can breathe again. I’m gasping for air as his touch trails along my hips.

“Still with me, pretty girl?” I nod still gasping. “Color?”

“Green, green, green.” I pant out quickly and he chuckles. He gives me a few more seconds to come down, tracing gentle patterns into my sides and he kisses me once my breathing slows. I pull away to bite my way down his neck, leaving my own marks on him. “Daddy, need you inside me, please.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for me, princess?”

“Yes! Yes! So ready! Please just fuck me!”

“Okay, let me grab a condom.”

“No!” I shout, grabbing his shoulders. “I’m clean. Please, I want to feel you. Just you.”

“You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” He says, kissing the tip of my nose. I watch as he pumps himself a few times and lines up with my entrance. He pushes in, just barely, and stays there until I’m begging him to push the rest of the way in.

“Please, Daddy, I want to feel full. I feel so empty.” He sheathes himself in me in one quick motion and I gasp. “Thank you, Daddy,” I whisper onto his lips.

“Fucking hell, Y/N, you’re so goddamn tight.” He’s still above me, and I can see his shoulders shaking in restraint. “You feel like heaven.”

“Please move, please. Let go, I can take it.” I whisper, peering into his eyes and he pulls out a little bit to thrust shallowly. He swallows my moan with his lips, kissing me with the fervor of a man starved. He starts off at a slow pace and despite being sensitive from my previous two orgasms, I need more. I dig my nails into his shoulder. “Please, for the love of God, fuck me. Hard. Please. I can take it. All of it.” He looks at me hard, searching for any hesitation, but his dick is literally inside of me, so there’s no hesitation on my part. I nod up at him and he leans down to kiss me as he starts to set a brutal pace. His hips are slamming against mine and when I shift my hips up to meet his thrusts he hits my G-spot with every thrust. “SHIT!” I shout, the words quickly turning into a loud moan as his thumb comes down to flick at my clit. I’m shaking with arousal, and I can feel his balls slap against my ass with how hard he’s fucking me.

“Come on, pretty girl, I know you’ve got one more in you. Give it to Daddy. I want to feel you cum around my cock.” There are no thoughts in my head anymore, everything in me has zeroed in on the feeling of him literally fucking me into the mattress. “You look so pretty fucked out like this, bet you can’t think of anything but my cock inside of you, huh?” I nod and he laughs, kissing me hard. He leans back just enough to change the angle by shifting my calf onto his shoulder. He thrusts, hard, and I whimper. “You make such pretty sounds when I’m fucking you.” He picks up the pace again, moving his thumb on my clit in tight circles. I let out a broken moan as he hits just the right spot inside of me, and he takes note of it, hitting the same spot repeatedly, thumb keeping its pace on my clit. It’s overwhelming and I know that this orgasm is going to ruin other men for me. No one can do it like him. “Y/N,” his voice is low, “Look at me, baby, I want to watch you fall apart.” I drag my eyes open and look at him with dazed eyes. One particularly hard thrust and a drag of his thumb over my clit and I’m cumming violently, thrashing against him and gripping the bed sheets, my body spasming and I feel him fuck me through it and spill inside of me with a shouted curse before I black out.

I come to and can feel a warm washcloth being dragged between my legs gingerly. I hiss at the contact.

“Oh, thank god, are you okay?” I nod, throat raspy from screaming. “Can I get you anything?” I shake my head no, and the warm washcloth returns, I jump at the sensation. “I know, I have to clean you up though, okay?” He finishes in the next couple of moments and throws the washcloth into the hamper.

“How long was I out?” I say softly.

“Five minutes? Maybe six.” I nod.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry? Y/N, that was the biggest ego boost I’ve had in years.” He chuckles and I let out a weak laugh.

“Help me up?” I whisper, holding my hands out toward him. He obliges, gently grabbing my hands and pulling me into a sitting position. My vision starts to go spotty again. “Oh, Jesus,” I say, starting to slump forwards. His arms wrap around me quickly, holding me against his chest until my vision starts to return to normal. His thumbs are rubbing my back and I wish I could stay in this moment forever. “I’m okay, I think,” I whisper after a minute and try to pull away but he only lets me get a few inches away, eyes worriedly searching my face. “Hotch, I’m fine. I swear. Now let me go so I can go pee.” He lets go of me slowly and when I stand up to walk toward the bathroom, my legs buckle underneath me. “Oh, come on!” I exclaim, but Hotch is right there to catch me. He scoops me up despite my protests and carries me bridal style to the bathroom, setting me down on the toilet. “Thank you,” I whisper, suddenly embarrassed.

“No, don’t do that. I can see you trying to hide, getting embarrassed.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Yeah, when your guard is down, you’re easy to read.”

“So, uh, do we just pretend this never happened? Go back to the way things were. I assume that’s what you want?” I bury my face in my hands, unable to look at him.

“Go back to the way things were? Y/N, baby, no. I can’t go back. This was not a one-time thing. I’m yours if you’ll have me.” I peek at him from between my fingers.

“Wait, you’re being serious right now?”

“Dead serious.” He gets on his knees in front of me. “I’ve wanted you from the first moment you walked into my office. I just didn’t think you’d reciprocate, until Morgan made a comment two months ago about your body language, and that’s when I had the hunch you felt the same way.”

“So, you’ve known I’ve been pining over you for months and didn’t think to say anything?” My pitch gets higher as the sentence goes on.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Yes, I’m clearly uncomfortable with you as I’m sitting in front of you, naked,” I say drily and he laughs again.

“Yeah, I know, I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you are,” I say, smiling, before adding, “But you’re my idiot.” His eyes brighten at that.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. As you said, I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

“Good. Because I’m never letting go of you.” I feel my cheeks grow warm.

“Good, because I don’t want you to.”

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

The Babysitter (1)

Meeting The Maximoffs

Wanda Maximoff X Reader

Summary: In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

The Babysitter Master list | General Master List

A/N- I would just like to say that there will be some sensitive issues in this story such as alcoholism, homophobia, anxiety as well as more mature content such as smut so, if you continue to read this, please consider this warning.

Meeting The Maximoffs

The sound of the bell rang around the room, Professor Stark in front of the first row, reminding everyone in the class to have completed the assignment by Monday before returning to his desk, fingers moving to type away at his keyboard, presumably writing an email about the assignment as people were flooding out of the door, his words falling on deaf ears. You made a mental note to complete the task before grabbing your backpack from the ground, quickly placing all your books and notes away before hurriedly leaving the room and the college campus.

The sound of directions filled your earphones as you looked down at your phone, the screen displaying a map with a blue line to lead you towards your destination of the house you were going to be babysitting at. Your gaze flickered between the screen and your surroundings as you stepped off the bus after thanking the driver, your mouth parting when you turned the corner your phone told you to. The street of houses here had you looking at them in awe, the area clearly wealthy judging by the houses that you felt should be referred to more as mansions.

Your feet carried you to the intended house, your hands nervously putting your phone away and fixing your outfit a little before ringing the bell of the large house. While waiting for someone to answer, your fingers fidgeted with one another as you were unsure of what to do.

Soon, the door swung open to reveal a tall blonde man with striking blue eyes dressed in professional attire, a soft smile that was definitely not genuine covering his face as he offered his hand out to you.

"You must be Y/n," you took his hand, shaking it briefly and trying not to grimace at his firm grip while nodding at his words.

"Yes, that's me sir," you say, noticing how he appreciated the formality, "You must be Mr Jarvis?" He nodded his head and moved to let you into the house, you follow behind him while your eyes scanned the hallway.

A smile took over your face at the sight of a photo of two young boys, both grinning ear to ear in the photo as they were dressed up in Halloween costumes, one in a sky-blue jumper with silver lightning bolts running across it, the other in a navy jumper and red cape flowing behind him. Your eyes flickered over to another photo this time of the two boys and a woman but before you could look any more at it you heard your name being called from another room.

"So," Mr Jarvis started, "I'm not sure how much you have discussed with my wife over the phone, so I'm going to cut to the chase and make sure we're both happy with everything." You sat opposite the man, listening attentively to what he was saying, a little shocked by his forwardness though. "You are to look after the twins, make sure they do any schoolwork, keep them entertained and feed them," the way he was speaking made you think it was something rehearsed, something he didn't actually care about but had to make sure was done, "Be in bed by nine if neither of us are home and that's pretty much it. It will most likely be Monday to Friday as my wife and I both work, and you will need to be on time as my work only lets me out to pick the boys up from school to bring them home. We'll pay you in cash afterwards."

"What time will I need to be here for you to go back to work?" you ask, praying that it fits with your class schedule.

"By four at the latest," he looks down at his watch, noting the time and standing to grab his suit jacket that was draped over the sofa. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work," your eyes widen at his words and follow after him.

"Wait, I'm starting now?" you practically blurt out, your nerves doubling every second he continues to get ready to leave the house.

"Yes," he answers shortly before walking to the bottom of the stairs and calling the twins down, "Tommy, Billy, come down here." The sounds of feet running down the stairs fill your ears as you see the two boys from the photo come into sight. "This is Y/n, your new babysitter so listen to her and behave," he ruffles both of their hair, one of them seeming to not like the action, before turning back to you. "Any issues, call or message Wanda," with that said he makes his way out of the house, the sound of the door shutting echoing inside your head.

At least you were good with kids... right?

With a nervous expression, you look at the boys who have smiles on their faces, pure excitement emitting from one of them, the other clearly more timid than his brother. You crouch down and give him a comforting smile, tilting your head to the side as you smile at the other.

"I'm Y/n," you offer the more confident brother your hand, his smaller one taking a hold of yours and shaking it a little too enthusiastically making you laugh.

"I'm Tommy," he says, teeth showing as he seems to like the idea of having a new babysitter. "This is my brother Billy," you give a soft smile to Billy who gives a small one back.

"Well, how about we have some fun now we've got the house to ourselves," your tone is playful, both of their eyes lighting up at your words.

"Can we be ninjas?" Tommy rushes out, your eyes widening once again. His brother laughs at your shocked and equally confused reaction.

"I..uh.. Sure, we can be ninjas if we want to," you chuckle out, "But after we play, we have to do our schoolwork." They both groan a little, but you raise your eyebrows at them, making them giggle at the fake serious look you were giving them.

An hour ago, if someone told you that you were about to play ninjas with two nine-year-olds you would have simply laughed in their face, now look at you. "Do you want to be a ninja too Billy? Or do you want to be someone else?" His face lights up at your question, your heart melting a little at his shyer nature.

"I can be something else?" He looks to his brother who is already doing karate moves in the air, your gaze following his and mouth tugging up into a smile. You nod at him and wait for him to think of something he wants to be. "Can I be an astronaut?"

"Of course you can," your tone is cheery, and you stand upright, mirroring the position Tommy was in. "So, we have a ninja and an astronaut, what's the first plan of action for tonight?"

"We have to sneak into the living room and defeat the bad guys!" Tommy exclaims, taking his role seriously and crouching down, slowly creeping towards the room. You copy him, watching as Billy also mirrors the action, and gradually make your way into the living room. You have to hold back your laughter when Tommy and Billy both check the corners of the other doors in the house before they leap into the living room. Billy doesn't fight as many bad guys as Tommy, the latter slicing his palm through the air and punching imaginary figures. "We did it!" he cheers, face beaming up at you as he goes to high five you.

"We did," Tommy looks proud of himself while you turn to his brother, "Now, I think it's time for a mini trip to space for our little astronaut over here."

Moving to the middle of the room, the boys either side of you, you bring your hand up to your mouth in the shape of a radio. "Pshhht, this is your captain speaking," chuckles fill the room with the voice you put on as well as the awful static noises you try to make. "Are we Psshhhht," another set of laughter, "Are we ready for take-off?"

"This is astronaut Billy saying he's ready," he says, eyes full of joy while he looks up at you. Tommy also says he's ready and you put your captain's voice again.

"Taking off in 10...9...8...7," the twins joining in with the countdown.

"6...5...4...3...2...1!" At the end of the countdown, you lift Billy off the ground, swaying your body around with him earning a squeal of surprise and excitement. You place him down after a little more flying through space, his brother pretending to steer the spaceship.

"And that concludes our space mission," they both pout a little, trying to make you guilty for ending the fun so soon.

"But we never flew back to earth," Tommy counters, you just shaking your head at them.

"If we all do our schoolwork then maybe we can fly to another planet then back to earth," you reason, the twins practically sprinting to go and get their homework. You sit with them at the table, pulling out your own work to do while they start theirs.

You want to say many, many things about the work Mr Stark gave you to do but refrain from saying them due to two little people sitting near you. Your pen scribbles word after word for your assignment, your gaze occasionally flickering over to the others to make sure they are doing their work and understand it.

"Y/n?" you hear Tommy say, "Can you help me with my maths question?"

"Of course I can," you move your chair so it's next to his, your eyes searching the paper for the question. You notice he's doing fractions and wish your work was like these fraction questions instead of an entire essay on science theories. After a few minutes of explaining, a flash of realisation and understanding washes over his face while he tries another question on his own.

The sound of the door opening catches your attention, your eyes checking your watch to see that it's just gone half five. You wait at the table with the boys who haven't seemed to notice someone's home until she walks in.

Your mouth parts slightly at the sight of the woman, no, the goddess that just walked into the room. A smile that could brighten any room, mesmerising green eyes that practically enchant you and auburn locks cascading down her back with a few framing her face adorns her perfect figure, your mind lost for words at the beauty of this woman. The boys rush over to her, hugging her and letting her lean down to press a small kiss to their foreheads before turning all of her attention to you. The expectant look on her face suggests she asked you a question, making you flush at the intensity of her gaze.

"Uh... pardon?" you say, embarrassed from being too captivated by her to listen. She simply smiles at you, nose scrunching at your nervous state.

"I said 'You must be Y/n, the new babysitter," there's a slight teasing in her tone as she repeats, "It's lovely to finally meet you face to face."

"You too, Mrs Jarvis," you awkwardly say, Tommy and Billy going off to watch Tv as they claim to have finished their work.

"I actually go by Miss Maximoff," she corrects politely, "And no need for formalities, call me Wanda, dear." The way her words have a slight accent to them has your face flushing even more, especially at the term of endearment. "I hope they behaved for you," she says, her head looking over her shoulder at her boys sitting on the sofa, engrossed with the cartoon currently playing.

"They were perfect for me Miss Ma-" Her eyes look over at you, eyebrow raised, "Uh Wanda." Your flustered state must have amused her as she let out an angelic laugh, your mind desperately wishing to hear that sound again. Your gaze travelled to the twins, your mind replaying the surprisingly fun afternoon you had. Stuck in the memory, you don't notice the way Wanda looks at you, an undecipherable glint in her eyes before her words break you out of your thoughts.

"Well thank you for taking such good care of them and somehow managing to get them to do their work," she jokes out, before reaching into her purse to find some cash to pay you. She offers you £50 and your eyes widen at how much she's giving you.

"That's way too much Wanda," you say in disbelief, you would have been happy with £10 never mind fifty. "I only looked after them for two hours," she shakes her head at you dismissively and takes a hold of your hands, placing the money there. You're too busy trying not to panic at the feeling of her hands on yours to stop her from pulling away.

"I can already tell they love you, so please take it," her eyes hopeful that you won't try and refuse once again. "Consider it a starting bonus," she argues, and you open your mouth in protest but close it almost immediately after as you can't think of anything to say to make her change her mind.

"Thank you," you say, looking up with an extremely grateful expression, "This really means a lot to me." You see the questioning look in her eyes and avert your gaze to your watch to see the time. "Um, I'll be going now if that's ok?" you move to the table to pack your books away, trying your hardest to ignore the feeling of her eyes on you.

"Yes, that's fine dear," when you turn you see a soft expression on her face and silently thank her for not pressing any further. "Billy, Tommy, say goodbye to Y/n," she calls, and the boys come rushing towards you with wide eyes.

"But we still have to go to another planet," Billy says, Tommy nodding his head along to what his brother says.

"And we need to get back to earth," Tommy adds, your heart clenching at the worried expressions on their faces. You look over to Wanda who just has a confused but entertained expression on her face. You move closer to them, Wanda even more intrigued by what was happening.

"Pshhht this is your captain speaking," they giggle at the static noise again, Wanda letting out a chuckle at your fake voice, your cheeks flushing as you look back at her. "Mission to Mars will happen on Monday, Pshhhht and mission back to Earth will happen afterwards," the worry washes from both of them at the promise of continuing the game before they rush over to hug your legs.

"Goodbye Y/n," they both say, then walking back to the sofa as you pull your backpack on and walk towards the door with Wanda close behind.

"Thank you once again for taking such good care of them," her voice is gentle as she holds the door open for you.

"It was honestly no problem, Wanda," you step out of the house, turning back to her before leaving properly, "They're amazing kids, you should be really proud of them." A small tint of pink covers her cheeks at your words

"Get home safely Y/n," her fingers brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "I'll see you Monday."

You watch as she shuts the door, a smile on her face, and start to walk down the drive, whispering a small 'See you on Monday' to yourself as your mind fills with thoughts of a certain woman.

---

The journey begins...

I hope you enjoyed :)

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Daddy’s boy prt two rnnnnnn

Daddy’s Boy-Part Two

Warnings: angst, angry Timmy, cursing

“How could you fucking do this, y/n? He’s my son!” His thick brows were furrowed with anger. “Why did you keep him from me? Why did you keep me from him?!” Timmy was more than right to be angry with you, but he kept his voice low as to not startle your son who was in his room trying to sleep.

“Timmy, I am so sorry. There’s no way I could possibly make it up to you or him. I feel awful about not telling you. There’s been so many times that I almost called you.”

He put his hands on his hips, and narrowed his brows at you. “Then why didn’t you?”

You started to cry as all of the old, hidden away feelings came back. “I don’t know.” you trembled, “I just thought that you were done with me. That you wouldn’t want to see me, much less raise a kid with me. I thought you had better things going on in your life, that you wouldn’t want to be tied down. I knew you didn’t have time for me, so adding a kid would have been worse in my mind.”

“That’s ridiculous! He’s my flesh and blood, I never would have shunned either of you. You know me, y/n!”

“I know. It’s terrible, looking back now. I was just in so much pain from losing you back then. I didn’t want to put myself in a position to get hurt again. I was selfish.” Tears flooded your cheeks, and you put your head in your hands out of shame.

You heard Timmy sigh, and you felt him come closer to you. His hands were on your arms and he said, softly, “I never wanted to hurt you. I shouldn’t have broke it off with you. I never should have let you go.”

You weren’t expecting him to put his forehead on yours, or for him to wipe the wet tears from your face, but he did. You nearly shivered feeling his touch finally, after so long.

“Timmy, if you want to hate me, I would understand. But you have every right to be in Theo’s life. I won’t keep him from you.”

Timmy ran his hands through his hair, obviously exhausted, taking a seat at your kitchen table, “You should know that I could never hate you. I tried talking to you so many times after we ended things. You chose to ignore me. But you could have told me you were pregnant then.”

You sat down at the table as well, “I know. I’m sorry. I’d take it all back if I could”.

He took your hand, holding it in a resting position on the table. “It’s okay. I know you would, y/n. But there’s really no point in dwelling on the past, or the way things could have been. I hope we can move forward and get to a good place.”

You looked him, smiling softly, feeling the genuine warmth from his words. “Of course we can. This is a lot right now. We can take time to decide how to raise him. I assume that you want to."

"Yes. Now that I've met him, I don't want to be without him. Nor do I want him to feel abandoned, or that I don't love him."

"He is so much like you. He feels things so deeply and he thinks a lot. Now that you've met, I can just see your relationship growing. He has longed for you, Timmy." you gently gripped his hand, the hand you used to hold with all your heart, and you did in this moment as well.

He smiled softly, the long hours and heavy weight of the day was plain to see on his otherwise handsome face. "I can't wait to get to know him better. He's perfect, y/n, you've done a great job with him." he looked into your eyes, "I'm proud of you." He then squeezed your hand lightly.

"Thank you." you said, trying not to blush. This man still had an enormous effect on you, even after not seeing him in the flesh for years.

"I should go." he declared, standing up from his chair, "I have a bunch of meetings tomorrow, but would it be okay if I called tomorrow night? I wanna ask Theo about his day."

"Of course." you stood up with him, "You can call or come see him anytime."

"Good." he smiled. His eyes looked so dreamy, a stray curl fell along his forehead. You seemed to have forgotten how tall he was. And he had put on more weight since you’d last seen him, he had really grown into a man. He wasn’t just the skinny, goofy boy you knew anymore.

Before you went totally weak in the knees, you said, "Let me walk you to the door."

Timmy followed you to the front door, and once you approached it, he said, "It's weird. I thought I'd really never see you again."

You turned and looked at him, "I know, I'm glad that it has happened, though. Is it weird for me to say that I've missed you?"

He chuckled, "No, not at all. I've missed you too." his eyes narrowed at you, and his gaze lowered slightly and you could have sworn he was staring at your lips.

"Timmy.." you said his name in a whisper, in a moment of hope that this moment meant something.

He leaned in, his eyes slowly closing.

You felt the need to close your eyes so he could kiss you. You’d melt at the feeling of his sweet, soft lips again.

But his lips didn't even graze yours.

You popped your eyelids open and heard him clear his throat. Apparently, he had stopped himself.

"Um, I'll call you tomorrow." he nodded at you, then took ahold of the doorknob, opening the door. "Goodnight, y/n."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, "Goodnight, Timmy."

As the door was shut behind him, you said to yourself, "What the fuck?"

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