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#the hours are flexible and it comes with benefits

gcabestva · 1 year

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Asset for being a Virtual Assistant

Virtual assistants are the backbone of many businesses. They provide administrative and clerical support to companies, allowing their clients to focus on their core business activities. While many people think that being a virtual assistant is just answering emails and making phone calls, there's much more to it than that! A great virtual assistant will have excellent time management skills, multitask while simultaneously keeping track of several projects, and pay good attention to detail when organizing information or documents.

Virtual Assistant Skills

You need a few skills to be a virtual assistant, but they can be learned. The most important thing is the ability to type quickly and accurately. You will also need excellent communication skills to communicate clearly with your clients and colleagues.

As far as customer service representatives go, there are several different types of positions available in this field: answering phones, processing orders or taking messages for customers who call in; helping customers find products through catalogs or websites; resolving complaints from customers (whether through refunds or exchanges); providing information about company policies or other issues related to using its services; researching solutions for problems outside regular working hours when necessary.

Being a virtual assistant is an excellent asset for those looking to make money from home.

Many benefits come with being a VA, including:

Flexible schedule - VAs can set their hours and work around their lives, so you can choose when they want to work and how much time they want to put into it each day. You may even be able to work while traveling!

Work from anywhere - Because most of our clients are located in different places worldwide, we need an office or other physical location where everyone works together daily. Instead, we communicate via email and phone, so we can all be in one place at a time (which would be expensive!). This makes it easy for people who don't have access yet and have wanted it since childhood.

Time Management Skills

Time management skills are essential for a virtual assistant, and it's your job to know how much time you have each day and prioritize tasks accordingly. It would help if you learned how to say no and when it's okay to say yes.

For example: If an opportunity will take up half of your day and doesn't bring in any money, it may not be worth taking on right now (or ever). You should focus on completing the most important tasks first so they don't get pushed back due to lack of time later on!

Organization Skills

Organizational skills are essential for any business professional. You'll need to be able to multitask, prioritize your tasks, and manage your time effectively. If you have this skill set, it will help ensure that you meet deadlines and complete projects promptly.

Customer Service Skills

You will need excellent customer service skills to succeed as a virtual assistant. You must understand your client's needs and respond to their requests promptly. You'll also need to handle questions and requests positively, solve problems and provide solutions.

Attention to Detail

Attention to detail is an essential asset for being a virtual assistant. You must listen closely and pay attention to your client's words because they may only sometimes express themselves clearly. You also have to understand the details of their project or task, which may involve researching information online or referencing documents they send you.

Finally, attention to detail can help you notice when something has gone wrong with their project--for example, if they didn't receive an email when it was sent out (or vice versa).

Virtual assistants are excellent for those looking to make money from home. If you have the right skills and can manage your time well, this could be a great opportunity! Global Conversion Agency has a lot to offer.

#Virtual assistants are the backbone of many businesses. They provide administrative and clerical support to companies #allowing their clients to focus on their core business activities. While many people think that being a virtual assistant is just answering #there's much more to it than that! A great virtual assistant will have excellent time management skills #multitask while simultaneously keeping track of several projects #and pay good attention to detail when organizing information or documents.#Virtual Assistant Skills #You need a few skills to be a virtual assistant #but they can be learned. The most important thing is the ability to type quickly and accurately. You will also need excellent communication #As far as customer service representatives go #there are several different types of positions available in this field: answering phones #processing orders or taking messages for customers who call in; helping customers find products through catalogs or websites; resolving com #Being a virtual assistant is an excellent asset for those looking to make money from home.#Many benefits come with being a VA #including:#Flexible schedule - VAs can set their hours and work around their lives #so you can choose when they want to work and how much time they want to put into it each day. You may even be able to work while traveling!#Work from anywhere - Because most of our clients are located in different places worldwide #we need an office or other physical location where everyone works together daily. Instead #we communicate via email and phone #so we can all be in one place at a time (which would be expensive!). This makes it easy for people who don't have access yet and have wante #Time Management Skills #Time management skills are essential for a virtual assistant #and it's your job to know how much time you have each day and prioritize tasks accordingly. It would help if you learned how to say no and #For example: If an opportunity will take up half of your day and doesn't bring in any money #it may not be worth taking on right now (or ever). You should focus on completing the most important tasks first so they don't get pushed b #Organization Skills #Organizational skills are essential for any business professional. You'll need to be able to multitask #prioritize your tasks #and manage your time effectively. If you have this skill set #it will help ensure that you meet deadlines and complete projects promptly.

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star-anise · 2 months

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are we talking about broke therapists yet?

I've been out of things for a couple of years now, which is why I'm willing to talk about it, and maybe the pandemic has helped things a little, but holy shit the counselling and psychotherapy field is not equipped to help its practitioners in the gig economy.

Of all my interests and talents, I pursued a degree in psychology because being a therapist is supposed to be a safe, stable, well-paid job. Every therapist I met who was registered before 2008 worked and lived under that assumption. And oh boy are all the fee structures--registration, supervision, continuing education, conferences--set up for that scenario.

After getting my Master's, I struggled like hell to get a job. It was especially bad because to get my license, I needed a supervisor to take me on. To take me on, most supervisors wanted me to already have a caseload and client base. To get a caseload and client base, I needed a job.

Friends: Every single job I heard back on wanted me to have my license before I could even land an interview.

Professors and career advisors and professional development specialists all advised me very earnestly to just keep cold-calling people on the supervision list, and it began to feel a lot like my parents' friends telling me to hit the bricks and hand out resumes. That's what worked for them, right?

I finally got a supervisor who agreed to take me on, and I'd be able to use her clinic for advertising and workspace, and we were doing the paperwork to send in with my registration, when she called me up and said, "Is this job going to be your only source of income? If you're trying to depend on getting clients and building your practice for your basic needs, this is not going to work out. This has to be something you're doing on top of a basic salary. Okay, so you're not working anywhere else right now? I'm sorry, I can't move forward with this."

Even once I landed a supervisor and a job building my own private practice, I struggled. I have ADHD and am not great at self-promotion, so trying to do all my own advertising, scheduling, bookkeeping, billing, and records management (on top of counselling) was an enormous strain. One my bosses, supervisors, and other senior professionals watched with a slightly critical eye, but consoled me about because in their early days, their clinics had had business managers, receptionists, filing clerks, and accountants, and getting used to doing everything online yourself was a bit of a learning curve, wasn't it?

I counted my pennies very carefully, because I had to pay my supervisor roughly $180 for their services every 6 hours of in-person counselling I did. This meant that to break even I had to charge my clients an average of about $30 (plus room rental and service fees) an hour--and my clients, being people with complex trauma, were frequently poor, disabled, unemployed, and had no health benefits, so even $10 or $20 a session was a lot for them.

Maybe it would have been easier if I could have taken some of those nice comfortable organization positions where they find clients and funding for you and you work 40 hours a week and get benefits and a pension, but I had to be disabled into the bargain, so working 40 hours a week just isn't possible for me. I start passing out from stress and exhaustion. Older colleagues gave me serious-faced advice about approaching my employer and asking them for some flexibility and accommodation in my schedule, and I tried to explain across the gap between us that employers simply did not hire me if I made the slightest noise about the workload. They weren't going to invest in me as a person; they were hiring 40 units of work a week, and if I wouldn't do it there were a dozen applicants after me who would.

At one point I broke down enough to email my licensing body because the Annual General Meeting/Professional Development Conference was coming up, and I wanted to attend, but I could not produce $500 to do it with. Was there some kind of way I could attend anyway? I felt ashamed to have to ask, and then absolutely mortified when the response came from the organization president, who needed to personally sign off on me being too poor to attend the single most important event in my profession's calendar year.

I honestly felt so ashamed all the time at how I was apparently failing to be a successful therapist, failing to be rich and successful, and every time I mentioned it around mentors and bosses, I could feel myself shrinking from a person to a problem to be solved. My closest therapist-friends and I have reflected on how much more difficult, poorly-paid and underworked, our various career starts have been than we were ever warned about. About the classmates and coworkers who couldn't get disability exceptions when they fell behind in their registration requirements, or burned out and left the field, or dropped their registrations and took up as life coaches, or moved their whole family somewhere exceptionally remote or rural because it was the only good job available, or worked for some godforsaken app skirting the bounds of malpractice like BetterHelp.

I like those conversations, because I feel less like an absolute fuck-up in them. There's less "Hey Lis, you were so talented in grad school, I really admired you, what are you doing now?" "Oh, I, uh... am professionally disabled, so I get government benefits, and I... sell embroidery patterns on Etsy now."

My own therapist kept asking if and when I felt like going back to being a counsellor, and I finally told him: I don't, actually. I don't want to go back and do it like I was doing it before. It was a profession I loved to the depths of my soul, and it profoundly did not love me back. I can't even imagine what would have to change, in me or it, to make it have a space in it that could fit me.

All of which I was way too scared to admit to at the time, because the more I let people know I was struggling, the more they hinted that maybe I just wasn't in a place in my life where this was a job I could do, and I needed to take a little break and wait to come back until money and disability just weren't issues for me anymore.

Eventually my cups of doubt and exhaustion did overflow, and I quit. I'm here now, living a much different life. And at the very least, all my years of helping people in bad life situations set me up perfectly for my own. I already knew what form to fill out for financial assistance, which student clinics to access for mental health support, and which government agency would, if pressed, cough out pharmacy coverage for the genuinely destitute. It gave me that much.

I hope this is just me being in extraordinary circumstances, sitting at the intersections of a few different shitty life situations that most people skip right past. Because it's on one level comforting, but another deeply infuriating, if I'm not, and I've just missed it or we've just all been too afraid to admit it to each other.

#staranise original #therapisting

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faebaex · 9 months

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TWST Characters - Big Spoon or Little Spoon? Ⅱ

author note: Spoon headcanons for the remaining dorms! enjoy (✯◡✯)

characters: Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim

Definitely a little spoon

Literally dives into you when he sees you on the bed

Likes to use your stomach as a pillow with his arms around your waist

He’s the type who takes ages to fall asleep

Like he’ll keep talking and talking and talking

And then suddenly he’ll fall silent and he’s passed right out

Kinda difficult to wiggle free from him ngl

Jamil Viper

Big spoon but that’s bc he needs to be able to get out of bed easily in case he needs to go wrangle Kalim

I feel like he was a front sleeper but he had to adapt for when you share a bed so now he sleeps on his back with an arm wrapped around you

Fairly peaceful sleeper, doesn’t move much

Does mumble in his sleep occasionally though

Like little exasperated sounds and angry mutters

Kalim bothers him in his dreams too ig

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit

Big spoon big spoon big spoon

There are RULES when you share a bed with THE Vil Schoenheit

He exclusively sleeps on his back because he needs to protect his skin at all costs

He may allow you to cuddle him, but make sure you’re moisturised!

He MAY make an exception and lay against you but ONLY if your pyjamas are made from the finest mulberry silk

Only the best for his skin

Epel Felmier

Desperately tries to be the big spoon

Literally won’t accept being the little spoon

Thinks its more manly if he is the big spoon

He looks very cute when he sleeps but don’t tell him that

He will never sleep again if you do

Rook Hunt

Tbh this guy is flexible, he’s happy being either the big or little spoon

He can appreciate the benefits of both positions

But like… Probably limit the spooning to your bedroom instead of his

Because his bedroom is a bit… Y’know

Definitely has taken pictures of you whilst you’re sleeping

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud

Little spoon little spoON LITTLE SPOON

Such little spoon energy omg

He’s kinda awkward at first because he’s so touch starved so he was a bit twitchy when you touched him

But as soon as he gets used to it he coils around you like a snake

There is no escape

Sleeps at absolutely awful hours though, has no concept of a bedtime

You may have to physically drag him to bed

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia

Big spoon but only out of sheer necessity

He can only sleep a certain way because of his horns, y’know?

Oh how he WISHES he could be a little spoon

How he dreams of falling asleep, head cuddled into your chest, listening to your heartbeat…

But alas, he settles for wrapping his arms so tightly around you that you can barely escape

Is grumpy about it but nothing an enthusiastic hug won’t fix

Silver

Both

Not through any preference but because he drifts off to sleep at the speed of light so sometimes you just have to climb into bed and spoon him

Other times he will fall asleep on you

He doesn’t mind either way, every time he’ll wake up with a smile on his face

If he finds out you have a preference, he’ll try his best but he is just a sleepy boy

Sebek Zigvolt

Oh jeez

If he finds out that his Waka-sama is a big spoon, then he will proclaim that he is ALSO is a big spoon!

In actuality, he’d secretly love to be a little spoon sometimes

So ironically, he’s closer to his Waka-sama then he realises

He’s an excellent big spoon though

And when the weather is cold, he’ll use huddling for warmth as an excuse just to spoon you

Lilia Vanrouge

A nightmare

Big spoon, little spoon, silly spoon

Likely to try and make you spoon in odd positions

Has tried to convince you to try spooning with him upside down at least three times

Is a good spoon when he takes it seriously though

But he comes to bed at all sorts of odd hours so there really isn’t a routine

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 1 year

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Matt and Peter trying to see who can fuck you better but they both fuck you so good that you become a babbling mess

i meshed two requests together, this one as well as matt and peter fucking villain! reader :)) i had a lotta fun with this one, enjoy!

VIGILANTE SHIT- P.B PARKER & MATT MURDOCK

Pairing: Peter! Matt! x Vigilante Black Cat! Reader (enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 8.8k

Warnings: SMUT, praise and degradation kink, mocking/ babying, petnames, teasing, swearing, mentions of blood/ violence (matt also bandages readers wound), bondage, dry humping, masturbation, breeding kink, man handling, overstim, fluff tho<33

"and i don't dress for villains, or for innocents.. i'm on my vigilante shit again. i don't start shit but i can tell you how it ends..."- vigilante shit, taylor swift

You had married the night.

It was your escape, your desires, your dreams. The stars were rings upon your fingers, the moon a shining spotlight through the clouds as you’d stalk your prey during the hunting hours.

You came alive in the darkness.

You felt like a burst of light, energy and power bursting through your veins. It was when you could take charge. When you could sneak up on people, make them fall to their knees and beg for salvation.

It was when you could get revenge on the people who deserved it most.

You had trained yourself to be a soldier. To have your guard up, to be alert and stealthy. The Black Cat, is what they had called you. You were quiet and flexible, getting in places the average person couldn't.

It was ideal for stealing.

“Stealing” things that didn't belong to the people who had stolen them in the first place. They didn't belong to the white, rich old men the prowled the upper parts of New York.

They didn't belong to the thugs and gangs in Hell's Kitchen either.

They belonged to you.

It was a waiting game, finding the right time to swoop in from your spot on the rooftops to scurry down and collect the goods. But it was one you were willing to play. You had played many games since your time on the streets in the twilight hours, like cat and mouse.

Matt Murdock and Peter Parker were crawling on you like spiders, and you had run into them more times than you could count. As fast as they appeared, you had fled.

They had no idea who you were, but you had made headlines. The thief in the night. The media didn't know anything. They liked to spin and twist lies for their own benefit, so that things would sell and people would become frightened.

What they didn't know- is that you only stole from people who deserved it.

Your own version of justice.

And right now, the men you were watching from the alleyway deserved it. You had been watching the Pirus gang now for days, hiding behind old warehouse containers and perching yourself upon balconies and ledges to spy upon them and their dirty deeds that made your own hands feel greasy with grime.

They had something that belonged to you. You had noted the 18k gold ring getting pocketed between them, a ring that had been gifted to your mother before she had passed.

You didn't care about the imaginary price tag that was attached to it, like these crooks did. You didn’t care you could sell it and easily make a hundred thousand dollars, waving goodbye to student debt and mortgage rates. You just cared that it was in a safe, and valuable place.

Tucked away in the little vintage jewelry box she had gifted you before she took her final breaths on that old, creaking bed.

A growl ripped through your throat as you saw them flip it up like a coin, hearing their mutters about ‘thank god the bitch is dead’. They were just a leap away. With a push, you could jump down upon the pavement, ripping them to shreds with your claws.

You had been patient enough, a clock ticking in your head with each second that had passed where the ring wasn't in your possession.

The ring was an easy target, and you shifted your weight stealthy to propel your body forward.

It was all coming together. It was easy.

Almost too easy.

As you guided yourself, eye on the prize- a sharp jerk yanked you back. The breath was stolen from your lungs, your scream muffled as a hand was placed across your mouth.

“Shhhh. Not a word.” the low voice murmured in your ear, his warm breath making the hairs on your neck rise with anxiety as you struggled against his chokehold grip he held on you against his large, solid body.

You were brought back in through the large warehouse window you had so stupidly turned your back on, too focused on the activities below to realize what was going on behind you.

Who was behind you, for that matter. You twisted your foot to step on his own, but he avoided it, clearly trained in combat as he fought back against your contained fight.

“Don’t make this harder for yourself sweetheart.” he growled, twisting you around to smash your body against the cold brick, the wind knocked out of you, too stunned to cry for help as he tossed you like a rag doll.

A black bandanna covered his eyes, toned body was hidden under the same black fabric, blood smeared across his cracked knuckles. You searched him for some recognition of who he was, but you were too dazed from the sudden assault, heartbeat racing too loud in your ears from adrenaline to think clearly enough.

“She's got fight in her man.” the mystery man smirked, as if you were a wild animal in a cage, desperate to get free.

Shivers broke out across your skin from under the leather as shocks went through your whole body, white, sticky webs clinging you to the wall like a mouse in a trap.

Then it clicked. Oh. Fuck.

“Oh you fuckers.”

A second body hung from the ceiling, emerging from the darkness into the dingy warehouse lighting, attached to a web as he waved at you from upside down.

“Well hello there!” he said cheerfully as if the three of you were all buddy-buddy and this was an everyday event.

“Was that a goddamn Star Wars reference?” you huffed, wanting to strangle the both of them.

“Yes. Maybe. Maybe yes.” He dropped from the ceiling, bouncing on his heels as he looked at you with interest through his mask, head tilted with curiosity.

“You need to slow your heartbeat. Calm down.” the masked man murmured lowly, listening to the increasing speed of its thumps as he neared you. It was then your vision cleared, and you could get a good look at them in the dimmed lighting.

Matt and Peter.

“I would be calm, if I wasn't webbed to a fucking wall right now.” you sang sweetly, making him smirk.

“It's for your own good.”

“Well technically, it’s for our own good because if she weren't bound she’d be clawing our faces off right now.” Peter noted, his voice fading in the distance as he found some random old chairs that were scattered in the corner.

“Peter’s right ya know.” you played along, the dragging of the chair's feet against the stone floor coming to an abrupt halt.

“You know my name?”

“Well duh. I’m not stupid, no matter how much you and Mr. Matthew over here may think I am.” You couldn't keep the sly smirk off your face, knowing you had them right where you wanted them.

You couldn't defeat them, and you knew the gang had most likely scrambled by now, along with your ring- but you could keep them talking.

“It's nice for us to finally be acquainted again.” Matt sighed, watching as Peter brought up the chair, plopping himself in one directly in front of you. As if you were a circus act, or the hottest new movie in the box office.

You huffed, not meeting his eyes as Peter curled his feet under him, sitting crisscross in the old, rusting chair. “What is this a therapy session?”

“Does it need to be? Tell me, my darling- how is your relationship with your father?” Peter asked mockingly, making you hiss out in response.

“Alright, alright enough. We just want to talk to you…”

“I’m not giving you my name.” you replied sharply, slightly struggling against the webs, having no luck of them weakening.

“How is that remotely fair?” Peter scoffed.

“Peter- enough. Fine, be that way. As I said, we just want to talk.” Matt exclaimed, cracking his knuckles as his head tilted to listen, surveying the nearby area with his ears.

“I think they left.” you murmured, and he nodded in response, mouth drawn into a hard line. “They left cause you scared them off with all your thrashing. Settle down woman, the webs won't break that easily.” Peter hinted, watching in amusement as you finally gave up, putting your head down in defeat.

“I hate you.” you murmured softly, quiet as a pin drop as you stared down at the cold concrete.

“Yeah, yeah tell us something we don't know.” Matt sighed, your eyes flickering back up to look at Peter, his legs still crossed in an almost childish manner as he leaned his head in his hands- appearing bored.

“Let's get this over and done with. What do you want to talk about?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

They were going to threaten you- obviously, or they'd try and talk you over with their magical words of wisdom, about how being ‘good’ was better than whatever the fuck you were doing. You didn’t care for it.

But you knew they wouldn't let you go until they said what they had to say.

You fought the urge to shiver, a cold breeze filtering through the broken windows, seething to chill your bones. Your nipples hardened, and you swore Matt’s head tilted slightly, a smirk dotting his face.

“You. Helping us.” Peter retorted, and before you could stop it, you laughed.

You laughed and laughed and laughed because what the fuck? That was the last thing you had expected them to say, his words seeming like an inside joke you weren’t involved with.

The cold had now disappeared, replaced with a warmth and bubbliness that pooled in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” was all you could gasp out, your sides hurting from the continuous laughter that poured out of you. You laughed partly because yes- it was funny, but also because you were confused and anxious. Not that they needed to know that of course.

“We need your help taking on Kingpin.”

There it was.

The laughter stopped. That name had left you scarred, your insides shriveling up at the whispers of memories that trickled through your brain.

“I don’t get involved with him.” you stated, voice hardened like cracked sugar. The air was sucked out of the room, and you saw fear and darkness slither across the brick.

“I know you don’t. That's why we’re now asking you to get involved with him, with us. We need another hand to play in his card game.”

“I don’t. Get. Involved.” you hissed, drawing out each symbol as if they were illiterate. Which they must have been. They must have been borderline stupid to think you would help them, with Kingpin nonetheless.

He was way out of your territory, and there were even lines you didn't cross once they were drawn.

“We’ll help you get your mother's things back.” Peter said cooly from his side of the room. Your head whipped towards him, eyes wide.

Maybe you didn't have the upper hand afterall.

“I don’t need your help.” Peter snorted, hand extending to the broken window, the one you had been perched out of a few minutes prior.

“Yeah. I’m sure.” he said sarcastically. “I had it under control, until you two showed up and ruined it.” you snarled.

“We saved you. They had multiple firearms on them, and you were severely outnumbered. The second you dropped, you would have been shot on the spot, too many bullets to stand a chance.” Matt replied to your outburst coolly. “But you wouldn't have known that, would you? They were tucked away, in their boots and under their jackets. Because if you did know, you would have been openly committing suicide, and that seems unlike you since theres jobs that still need to be done.”

You were silent. They had you in their webs. Quite literally, at that.

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“You always have a choice.” Matt replied softly, his demeanor seeming to change. Almost as if... as if he felt bad for you. As if he could see right through you, could feel the pain and sorrow in your heart that ripped and clawed at you daily, could feel the loneliness and anguish that haunted you.

Maybe he didn't have many choices in his lifetime.

His words were nearly comforting, but you knew they were one-sided. You did have a choice, but if you didn’t accept their offer- things wouldn't turn out good. Not that they would working with them anyways.

But what ‘choice’ did you really have?

“Fine. When do we start?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It’s fucking cold.” you groaned, the air around you seeming brisker with each passing second. New York never seemed to be warm, the skin-tight suit plastered to you not helping the cause.

It was lightweight and stretchy, its fabric perfect for fighting and climbing- but it provided next to no warmth.

The sirens shrieked as they passed by under you, the city lights illuminating the two men next to you as you sat perched on the roof.

It had been a few weeks since the webbing incident, and you now waited- bored out of your mind for an instruction. It was unlike you to listen and not lead, but you wanted to see how the dice would roll.

You crouched low, the concrete block rough and bitter to the touch as you knelt at Peter’s level.

“It’s not cold. You’re just being a pussy.” Peter drawled, the wind whipping through his messy locks as he looked down, taking in the bustling traffic below.

The cars were all fancy here, all Porches and Bentleys on this side of town. It made you feel out of sorts, and uncomfortable in your skin.

“Did you just call me a pussy?”

“He meant it romantically.” Matt replied, your eyes meeting his sharp jawline as he sourced out the area from the other side of you.

“I did not.” he scoffed, a blush burning on his cheeks as he turned away, suddenly very interested with the stone ledge.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. When are we moving in?” you asked impatiently, rocking on the balls of your feet anxiously. It felt like you had been sitting up here forever, despite meeting them back near Hell's Kitchen over half an hour ago.

So in reality, you had really only been sitting here for a good twenty minutes. Yet, it dragged on.

Where was the action? The fighting? You were sick of waiting.

“Don’t even think of moving in without my signal.” Matt stated, sensing your anticipation as you sighed.

“What are we even waiting for?!”

“For them to take their fighting somewhere else.” Peter snorted, obviously as anxious to get going as you were, but it appeared he was more collected. He had been working with Matt a lot longer than you had, and you hoped to keep it that way.

You watched as Matt listened closely, obviously aware of the conversation that was appearing behind the glass in front of you. The two men were tall and build, almost double the size of you. Anger was written across their faces, buried in the creases of their foreheads as they yelled, hands frantically moving. Their black suits were wrinkled, blood dotting one's forehead as if a fight had occurred before this one.

You tilted your head, curious.

Were they not on the same side? Were they not both fighting for Fisk, defending him?

“They seem pretty angry for people who appear to be on the same side.” you hinted, trying to think of reasons they could possibly be so mad.

“You’d be surprised how competitive his men can get, when he's angry the way has been lately.” Peter stated, looking to Matt for instruction as a gun was cocked, hands going up in surrender.

“Should we intervene?”

Matt just shook his head.

“Let it play out.” was all he said. You despised how calm and collected he was about this. Part of you wanted him to be rash, so you could save him and yell at him for how stupid he was. But that wasn't his style, and you knew it never had been. He and Peter waited in the shadows, counting down the minutes until it was right to strike.

Suddenly another man appeared from the hallway, breaking up the fight. They left the room, and you felt your body instinctively moving forward, ready to leap, though you couldn’t reach.

“The documents Peter and I need are in the office across from that one, in a safe behind the painting behind the desks. All the offices look the same, it's an industrial office. You’re in charge of making sure no one comes up on this floor.”

“So what I’m on watch duty? You brought me along so I could protect you guys while you play capture the flag?” you scoffed. Seeing as to how they quite literally webbed you to a wall, asking for your help- you figured it’d be for something much cooler than this.

“For now.” was all he said, a tone in his voice indicating something else was on the table for a later date. “I don’t really have a choice in this.”

“You always have a choice.” he repeated, words echoing those at the warehouse.

“I’m going to fucking punch you.”

A laugh escaped Peter and he was quick to cover it with a slap to the mouth as he watched the stand down you had with Matt. Nothing was coming out of this, and you weren't expecting it to. But it was still fun to try and bother him anyways.

Nothing seemed to get under his skin, which irked you even more. He was the water to your fire, the voice of reasoning. Fuck his reasoning.

“Punch me and I’m telling you right now things will not end in your favor.” Matt snarled, hand grabbing your wrist as you raised it.

“I’ll take my chances.” you hissed back, hair raising on your arms like a cat’s from under your suit.

“Go.” he commanded sternly. “What?”

“Go. The floor is clear, for now. Peter’s taking you over.”

“Wha-” Before you could beg to differ, confused about what the man meant, you felt an arm wrap around your middle. Matt's grip released from your wrist, yet you could still feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the area where his fingers brushed you starting to tingle.

The wind rushed in your ears as Peter grabbed you, a web shooting from his wrist as he swung you off your feet. It took everything in you not to scream, the movement so quick and sudden you felt your lungs come out through your ribcage. You were soaring through the air, Peter's grip tightening on you as you watched the world blaze by in a blend of colours from under you, coming to a standstill as he stuck to the side of Fisks building.

You looked over to where you once were, finding it empty. Matt had already disappeared, not a whisper or a trace that he had ever been there remaining.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” you whispered, looking down and regretting it immensely.

“I thought you liked high places? Don’t all cats?”

“Not this high.” you whimpered, willing for him to pry open the window quicker than he was currently. Although you gave him credit, he was doing it one-handed after all.

“Just don’t look down. That's what I did before I got used to it.” he shrugged, and you clung to him tighter, breathing in the cologne he wore through his suit. It was nice, you realized, sort of hating yourself for liking it as much as you did.

All of a sudden the two of you were much too close, the air becoming hot and saccharine despite being almost twenty stories high, the wind whipping through your hair wildly.

He let out a small grunt as you heard the window click open, the glass freeing enough space for you to wedge your body through.

“This is the storage room, down the hall from the office we’ll be at. Stay close.” he instructed, and you scrambled to grip onto the window ledge. “And don't let yarn be a distraction.” he added teasingly, darting away before you could let out a sly remark in return.

“Asshole” you muttered to yourself, slowly and quietly shutting the window behind you. You had landed upon a shelf, filled with cleaning supplies. The smell of chemicals burned, your nose twitching with disgust as you took in your surroundings.

It was quiet in here, minus the gentle hum of the air vents. Dark as the night outside, you were stealthy and careful not to knock anything over as you leaped to the floor, the hard tile cold under your hands.

Mops, buckets, vacuums and brooms all were dotted against the walls, cleaning chemicals so advanced you didn't even know if you could pronounce them. Sometimes you forgot how much money this man really had. It seemed unimaginable.

Kingpin could probably buy the entire city if he wanted, in all honesty. You were rather confused why he hadn't yet, since that always seemed to be his endgame. Changing the city. Changing the way people lived, changing the way the economy ran to better suit his needs.

All this change that didn’t need to happen. He could change his shitty attitude, or even the paint colour in here. You thought with a sigh, dusting your hands off as you rose to your full height, on high alert as your hand reached for the door handle.

It was quiet outside. Too quiet.

You held your breath, feeling your lungs tighten as you slid beside the door. Your back was to the wall, heartbeat thumping in your chest as you heard a voice call from the end of the hallway, turning the corner.

Waiting wasn't something you were very good at, but you knew you had to time this right. The whole mission- and your life, depended on it. Just as his foot hit the hardwood in front of your hidden alcove, you swung the door open, arm reaching around his throat.

A meer gasp escaped him as you pounced on him, dragging him into the cleaning closet with you. His arm went back to hit you with his gun, but you had wrapped around him like a koala bear- his arms unable to you. His gun clattered to the ground as you kicked it, squeezing your arm around his airways even tighter as he fell back against a shelf.

You winced as the pain shot up your arm as he slammed you back against the wooden ledges, cleaning supplies rattling in the struggle.

“Can you pass out quieter?!” you hissed, feeling his grip lack as he slipped into unconsciousness. You jumped off of him as he thudded down to the ground, limbs spread out as his breathing steadied.

You sighed, dusting off your suit again with the quick bush of your hands. He had got dirt on you- the bastard. Grabbing underneath his armpits, you attempted to trudge the large, beefy man to sit against the shelf.

If he was going to be unconscious, he might as well ruin his posture in the process. It seemed like a fair trade, seeming as he almost pointed a gun at you and smacked your shoulders hard enough to see little black spots dot across your vision.

He would be out cold for a while, hopefully, long enough for your little boy scout duo to get their shit and scramble. You watched as he slouched over, proud of your handiwork. You were lucky he wasn't as large as the other guards you had seen, or else you weren't so sure your strategy would work.

Remembering you had a job to do, you slipped back over to the closed door, poking your head out slightly as you heard the ever so slight creak of a window close from the office down the hall.

Good. They got in.

You were scared to breathe, scared the rush of air whooshing through your trachea would set off some sort of alarm or trigger. It was like walking on pins and needles. The air seemed tighter here, stuffy as it weighed down on you. It was almost an unfamiliar presence was lurking nearby, someone you had seen in a nightmare once before, but had convinced yourself they weren't real.

Shivering, you tried your best to ignore it, slipping off behind the corner- somewhere you knew the cameras wouldn't be able to see you. Peter had already mapped out the floor plan earlier- his long, elegant fingers gliding over the page, his words tuning out slightly as you felt warmth spread through you the longer you watched his fingers point and tap.

You thought of them now as you watched the empty hallways, knowing they were probably gliding across the ridges of the mahogany desk as he waited for Matthew to finish his task.

They brushed against you now as you felt the hairs on the back of your neck raise, a ghost slipping through you.

Someone was watching you. Someone was here with you, and it wasn't Peter.

Before you could turn fully, hands reached for you, tugging you under an invisible wave. You were dragged under the surface, the shock and adrenaline causing you to gasp for air as they yanked you back against the wall.

Men came from all directions, swarming you. You kicked and clawed, getting in a good few punches as you struggled.

You were caught. Again.

But this time, they wouldn't be willing to talk- like Matt and Peter were. You didn’t know what they do, which was the scary part.

“MATT-” You managed to call out, quickly silenced as a butt of a gun was hit to your forehead, the force so strong your neck snapped back, head rolling limp as the sound of the crack reverberated through your ears.

The world turned dark, and you prayed deep down he had some idea what was happening to you at the time being.

He was a catholic. He’d hear.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The world was fuzzy.

Everyone said that, that when their eyes opened it was difficult to see for a bit, shapes and colours blending together. But it was bad. Worse than they put it in the books, when they didnt know how else to change the scene, so they just made the character unconscious or whatever.

You feared you were trapped in a watercolour painting as your eyes opened, hand reaching up to grab the place where your head was throbbing like a jackhammer.

You ached for it to stop, moaning out in pain as the word started to reform itself.

“Shh, shh relax.” a familiar voice called, though he sounded slightly out of tune and distant. Matthew came into view as you turned your head, his hand reaching out to press you back into the pillows.

“What happened?” you croaked out, trying to hold back the tears as you felt dried blood crust on your forehead. There was the sound of water trickling as he twisted out a clean rag, the bowl on the bedside table scattered with medical supplies.

You managed to move slightly, allowing him to sit next to you on the bed, a slight frown on his face as he sighed.

“Peter ran out to back you up, but we were outnumbered. He grabbed you and we took off. There were too many of them swarming us for it to be a decent fight, especially because you were knocked out.”

The warm cloth was pressed against your gash, and you flinched from the sudden contact as he tended to you.

Who would have thought? Not you.

“I thought the Matthew Murdock never backed down from a fight?” you asked curiously, knowing it would twinge a nerve or two. But it didn’t. He just shrugged, setting the cloth back down next to the others.

“I do when someone who is on my side is hurt.” he stated, voice seeming to be filled with an emotion you couldn't quite decide on. It was a factual statement, and you were honestly shocked he wasn't more upset with you.

You were silent as he stood, bed creaking slightly from the removal of his extra weight, his arms hanging limp at his sides. It was then you could get a good look at him, though the lighting was dim in his apartment.

His knuckles were slightly smeared with dried blood, some slashes dotted across his forearms that seemed fresh.

But he was unbothered.

He had put on the mask you had put on so many times before, becoming a soldier. Becoming guarded.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” he noted, sensing your gaze on the marks that dotted across his exposed skin. All you could do was clear your throat as you peeled your eyes from him, desperate to think of anything else but running your fingers across his skin.

You focused on the red numbers from the analog that stared at you, seeing it was an odd hour in the early morning. The heavy rain pattered against the windows, the comforting sound reminding you of nights at your mother's, listening to the rain hit the tin.

Her soft perfume would wrap you in an embrace as she’d lie with you, book in hand as you’d drift off to sleep. The sound always brought you back to a place of serenity, even in the toughest of times. You urged to find yourself back to the memories of her, but were interrupted by the sound of the door slamming, and the squealing of wet boots.

“He returns triumphant.” Peter called from the entrance, a plastic bag dropping to the ground with the water that dripped from his coat as he shrugged it off.

You groaned, forcing yourself to swing your legs over the bed, the hardwood cold against your feet. Pushing up, you wobbled slightly as you rose to your full height- feeling like a fawn on its new legs.

“Did Claire cause a fuss?” Matt asked, flicking on a light from around the corner. You heard water run from a faucet as Peter shook out his dripping hair, running his fingers through it before carrying the bag over to him.

“No, no she seemed fine with it. Kinda rushy but-” His attention slid over to you, concern across his features.

“Hey, hey you're supposed to be in bed.”

“I don't like you.” you murmured, trying to shoo him away as he walked towards you.

“I don't care. You’re supposed to be resting.” he sighed, rolling his eyes as you protested. Peter's hands were warm, despite being outside in the crisp, chilled New York air as they picked you up gently.

He treated you as if you were a piece of fine china when he walked, moving ever so slowly to avoid jutting you around more than necessary. It was odd, considering you both had given each other the side eye more times than you could count.

You weren't used to the attention. You weren't sure if you liked it or not, it was too unfamiliar and new. But you accepted it, tucking your head to your chin as you clutched his sweater tighter, the clenching of your fists bringing you relief.

He carried you to the bathroom, the brighter lighting making you squint as he entered. Matt stood at the vanity, the bag of goods Peter had picked up scattered out on the counter. You gulped at the sight of the medical tools, the needle and thread making your skin crawl.

“I think I’m fine.” you said, anxiously clearing your throat as Peter set you down beside the sink. Matt resumed his doings, gathering the thread as if this were an everyday occurrence for him.

It very well could be, you realized.

“Seriously, I’m okay-”

“Hold her still.” Matt insisted to Peter as you made a move to slide off the counter. Panic swarmed you like flies, maggots chewing away at your lungs as you found it harder and harder to breathe.

It wasn't because of the boys, far from that. They had taken quite good care of you, despite the circumstances. It was the needle, the damn needle that made your stomach turn in on itself.

The idea of something sewing through layers of your skin did not sit right with you. You wanted to turn to the invisible camera, break the fourth wall during this shit.

“Can you believe this shit? I can help take down Fisk, but I’m scared of a small needle? (and commitment sometimes)”

“Breathe.” Matt commanded sternly as his hand gripped your thigh, sensing your bubbling fear. You shook your head frantically, your stomach starting to clench.

A gentle touch to your other thigh startled you, and you looked over in alarm as Peter's fingers brushed your skin, his eyes seeming to bleed raw with empathy. He seemed genuinely concerned for you, and you welcomed his touches with open arms as you started to shake and buzz with nerves.

“Kitty, it’s okay. I promise you, he knows what he’s doing.”

”I used to stitch up my dad after his fights when I was a kid. I’ve been doing it my whole life.” Matt replied softly. “It’s not that it’s just… it grosses me out. The needle- I mean.”

Matt tilted his head slightly, a small little smile on his face. The one you had seen so much when you were around him in the short period of time, the one he did when he was teasing you.

You wanted to rub it off his face, smear it like chocolate into his skin with the palm of your hand.

“You’re a brave lil thing. You’ll be okay.” You closed your eyes, doing anything to dissociate, anything to convince your mind you were in a better place. Knuckles clenched around the counters edge, nails scratching the sharp surface as you keened.

“I’ll be gentle.” he murmured in your ear, close enough so that you could breathe in his scent, could feel the heat that pulsed off him in a sinusoidal wave.

He was far, yet so close in your mind, sight like tunnel vision as you tried not to be consumed by him. But it was impossible. The soft gentle squeeze on your thigh took away from Matt's actions, and you exhaled softly, steadily.

In for four. Hold for four. Out for four. In for four. Hold for-

“Which one of them did this to you?” Peter asked you benevolently, finger strumming a steady rhythm. You were scared for him to stop.

Suddenly, you didn't want to be left alone anymore. It was strange how the human body could react like this, how it could change and fluctuate depending on each situation was thrown at it. It wasn't equipped to handle them alone. It was a machine, but was unusable, nor was it well-oiled if someone wasn't there to support it.

In some cases, that was the last person you'd ever expect in your life to keep its maintenance.

“I’m not sure. He had a scar, right across his cheek. That’s all I could see of him, before the others came.”

Silence. Then another beat.

“We’ll kill them all.” was all he said, eyes slipping up to admire Matt's handiwork. Matt nodded, humming to himself softly as he patched you up with ease. Your eyes threatened to bulge out of their head at their comments, shocked that they could talk about this so… so lightly.

And for you? They would kill for you, someone they could barely stand to work with. It rubbed you the wrong way.

There was more to this than you realized.

“I thought the two of you didnt kill?” you asked hesitantly, gritting your teeth so hard they hurt as you felt Matt tug on the final stitch.

The two of them just shrugged. You didn't like how much they shrugged.

“We don't really.”

Then this was personal. This was about Fisk. You needed- no ached for more answers for the more questions that brewed in your mind,

Why Fisk? Why bring you into this? They most likely weren't planning on killing them because of you. You seemed too insignificant. There was a larger cause behind this, if it was driving them to killing instincts.

“So why?” You couldn't help but speak your current interest, too many questions churning deep inside the labyrinths of your mind.

“Done.” Matt sighed, ignoring your questions. A chill spread through your thigh as you felt Peter's hand slip from the surface of your skin, slightly scarred but smoothen after healing.

It felt like a shock, his hand retracting as if he was zapped from you. As if the trance was broken, and things were back to normal. Where you hated him, and he hated you, and neither of you could look at each other for more than two minutes without making faces like children.

His footsteps were silent, cat-like as he removed himself from the tension sharp enough you could cut it with a knife- as he should.

You’d go, or he would.

You slipped from the counter, watching as Matt started to put his supplies in random drawers, although they weren't random to him. He opened each one swiftly, knowing exactly where to put each item where.

You stood still, hoping he’d provide you with the answer you desired. You didn't want to leave this apartment without one.

But he ignored you, acting as if you weren't there. A childlike tendency was brewing inside you, and you fought the urge to not stop your foot against the cool tile and huff.

“Matt?”

“Yeah?”

Why won't you tell me anything? Why am I being left in the dark? Why, just why can't you tell me anything? But you didn't want to push anything.

It was too soon. You had a feeling deep down, small but visible, that’d they'd tell you at some point. Patience was key. It was key in that cleaning closet, and it was key now. It had overtaken so many parts of your life- being patient. It was difficult to master, but it was essential for independence.

“Thank you. For stitching me up, and taking care of me. I appreciate it.” you nodded, not waiting for a reply before you stepped out of the bathroom, heart heavy in your hands.

It had weighed on you- how exhausted you were. It was a lot for your body to handle, in such a short period of time. It was hard for you to admit it to yourself, but you registered the fact you hadn't done something as extreme as this.

Of course you had taken down organizations before, small little street gangs and such that caused disturbances to your true targets.

But this? Fisk? It was a lot. And you had a very strong feeling it wouldn't be ending soon.

The sound of a glass shifting across the table made you jump, the scraping of the glass against the mahogany an uncomfortable pause in the everlasting silence.

Peter’s hand closed around the cup, adams apple bobbing as he chugged the water back.

“You gonna sleep in just that?” he asked, eyebrow raised with a sly grin on his face. You looked down, the oversized tank top hanging down just past your knees.

You presumed it was one of Matt’s considering how large it was on you- and the fact all you had on you at the time was your suit.

They had seen you mostly naked. Oh my god.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you looked back up at him, determined not to let the humiliation you felt win. Besides, Peter was more pretty to look at than the floor anyways.

“What else am I supposed to wear? You gonna be a pervert?” His hands flew up in mock defense, eyes widening.

“No, no I’m a gentleman. Just worried you’ll be cold, that's all.”

“These floors better be heated then.” you shrugged, snagging a warm fuzzy blanket off the arm of the couch.

“No ones sleeping on the floor. I’m on the couch, you're with Parker in the bed.” Matt chipped out, emerging from the bathroom at last. It was as if he was your conversation- not wanting to interrupt in case someone said something snarky and he’d drop the popcorn.

It took you a second to understand what he said fully, feeling incompetent.

“The bed?”

“The bed.” You shook your head hectically, the room blurring.

“I can sleep on the floor.”

“I know you can.” he replied, hand touching the lower area of your back as he passed you, making you shiver.

“But it’d be much better if you slept in the bed with your injuries. And besides, what guest sleeps on the floor?” he asked coyly, fluffing up the couch pillows.

Peter’s smile was mischievous as ever, a glimmer in his eye as he took you in.

“C'mon kitty. I don't bite. Promise.” You refused to trust a promise from Parker. But you felt your feet begin to automatically walk over to the comfort of the bed, with its warm sheets that smelt of lavender.

Today was bundles of nightmares all smashed into each other, toppling over one another to cram themselves into the twenty-four hours.

What would sleeping next to Parker do to add to that?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ He added a lot.

Though it wasn't nightmares- the opposite in fact, it was more trouble to your own morals than you thought was possible.

You woke just as the sun rose, only managing to muster a few hours of shut eye despite the events before. Though your injuries were numbed from pain meds, it was spent tossing and turning between the sheets, trapped in the labyrinth of your own mind.

You were internally angry at yourself, mad at the attraction you felt towards the two men. It had only been a few weeks, and anytime their eyes lingered on you for too long you felt your panties start to dampen.

You wondered if they could tell.

The idea that they could excited you even more.

This wasn't supposed to happen, this little rendezvous of sexual tension between the three of you. You were the villain, they were the heroes. The villain wasn't supposed to clash with the hero in that way- it was off-script.

Yet you felt frozen in place as the birds chirped, Peter's warm body so close to yours you felt the hardening bulge in his pj pants- his large arm draped over your body.

Everyone was still asleep as far as you knew, but you wouldn't be surprised if Matt was awake. He was as quiet as a mouse, most likely listening to your quickening heartbeat as Peter's arm brushed against your hardened nipples, and you opened your legs slightly.

You swallowed, too afraid to make a sound.

“Mmm here kitty, kitty.” he whispered, voice husky and laced with sleep against your scalp.

Your eyes widened.

Was he dreaming about you?

Shifting, you brushed the curve of your ass against his bulge, making him groan. There was no harm in a little fun- was there? It’s not like you were in love with them or anything.

Who said you couldn't mess around for a bit- act on that sexual tension?

You heard his breath catch in his throat, eyes opening slowly to feel you pressed up against him.

“Were you dreaming of me?” you asked innocently, starting to slowly tease him, his fingers brushing circles against your hardened nipples.

“I like when you do that, ya know. They're so sensitive.”

“You minx. You're being a tease.” he growled softly, pinching your nipple harshly as you softly yelped.

“Don’t you like it when I’m a tease though bug boy? It just means you’ll have to train me real good.” you smiled, turning back to give him puppy dog eyes, resulting him practically dry-humping you.

You knew Matt could smell your sweet arousal, and you wondered how long he would hold off before yelling at the two of you to stop fucking around on his bed.

“I thought you hated me?”

“I do. But you feel so good.” you sighed, coy smile blooming as he shimmed lower, teeth sinking deep into your neck as he slid his hand down to part your legs even further.

“Such a fucking whore. Just some cock will shut you up- won’t it?”

You nodded frantically, the hiss that slipped from his lips sounding like music to your ears as he felt how wet you were through the flimsy fabric.

“Please. Please I’ll be so good I promise-” you begged, squirming with anticipation as he chuckled lowly.

“Oh so now she switches up hmm? Silly girl.” he cooed, slipping your thong to the side. You couldn't believe this was really happening. It made your head spin, made your limbs tingly at the thought alone how wrong this was.

Wasting no time, he tugged down his boxers, slowly teasing you as he slid the tip along your wet folds. You knew he was doing it just to spite you, and you were insistent on not giving him the satisfaction.

Biting your lip, you shivered as he toyed with you- a cat playing with its dinner.

“Oh so no back talk now? Good.” he growled, sliding it in to the hilt, making you slap your hands over your mouth with a means to silence the moans that threatened to escape.

Though there was no point, Matt heard every little breath and whimper you protruded, cock hard and heavy in his hands as he stoked it like some pervert.

Peter stuffed you to the brim, brushing your g-spot as he tossed his head back in pleasure.

“F-fuck-” you whimpered, almost unable to speak with how sudden the stretch was. It sent fire coursing through your veins, an adrenaline rush bringing you back to when you were in his arms on the rooftop.

“Fuck is right, Jesus Christ you feel so good. So fuckin tight.” he moaned, slowly sliding out of you, feeling your juices coat the base of his cock as he thrust into you hard enough to send your body jolting before he steadied you.

A new body had entered the room, his presence searing and as hot as embers. Little moans escaped your mouth as you stared at Matt, mouth agape, eyes wide as Peter hammered into you.

“In my bed? Really?” he smirked, and you followed his happy trail down to where his large, veiny hand palmed himself as he heard your heartbeat skip a beat.

“Well someone’s happy to see me. Hmm kitty?”

You moaned, hiccuping on your spit and drool as Peter’s thrusts became more erratic. By the way he was handling you, you knew he didn’t care how quickly you came.

He was using you as a toy, a means to get off. That turned you on even more.

“You’ll get your turn with her after Matty. We talked about this.” he mused, watching your breasts bounce from his harsh manhandling.

“Oh, I know. It’s only fair, isn't it kitty?”

“Y-yeah.” you choked out, Matt’s fingers reaching out to wipe the drool that had dribbled from your lips, swirling his tongue around the coated digit and releasing it with a pop.

“She’s already going dumb. Like a bitch in heat.” Peter smiled, him and Matt holding you steady as your body instinctively attempted to wiggle away from the intense waves of overstimulation, his moans ringing out throughout the room as he came in you with a grunt.

“She just needs to be bred.” Matt smiled, tugging off his boxers and your eyes nearly rolled at the sight.

This was addicting. The way they were making you feel, the way they spoke to you as if you were just a toy for their pleasure. But that's what you liked. Which made it so you knew it would be even harder to avoid this scenario again. It was like a drug.

His hand gripped your chin, forcing your gaze on his as Peter slid out of you, cum oozing out all over your puffy, swollen cunt as you whined from the abrupt emptiness.

“Shhh. You’re fine.”

Your body was limp as Matt took over, flipping you on your stomach, knees bent with your ass in the air. Kisses trailed down your spine, thin tanktop slung somewhere in the room.

You didn’t know. You didn't care.

All you cared about was the way he handled you, so gentle compared to Peter. But you knew he’d get rough soon.

“S’too much-” you mumbled sleepy against the sheets, feeling spent.

“She's spent. Fuckin whore is cockdrunk.” Peter smirked, shrugging on a t-shirt as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.

It felt dirtier with him watching in a way, knowing his eyes would linger on you in your most vulnerable state.

“But she had so much backtalk with us these past few weeks. What happened to that now angel?” Matt asked mockingly as he slid back in you, stuffing Peter's cum back into your abused hole again.

“Mhm-” you moaned, fisting the sheets as he entered you. He was more patient than Peter, slowly filling you instead of slamming to the hilt- but the stretch was just as delicious.

“M’so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” you mindlessly babbled- for what you didn't know. You just wanted to be good, to make them happy, and to please them. If that meant shattering your ego, then so be it.

“Silly girl.” Matt provoked, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he started to use you as he saw fit. You sunk your head deeper into the pillows, tears starting to stream down your cheeks from the sensitivity.

“M’gonna cum-” you hiccupped cautiously, seeing as Matt’s pace was not stopping for anything, or anyone.

“Yeah? Go ahead baby. I’ll let you, since Parker was being so cruel.”

“She was being a tease. She had to learn a lesson.” Peter mused, teeth digging into his lower lip as he watched where you and Matt connected, knowing his cum was being shoved further into you.

“But she’s such a sweet girl. Deep down, you just wanna please us, don’t you baby? Your little demeanor doesn't fool us.”

You felt your brain go fuzzy, his voice sounding distant as you came around his cock with a high pitched whine.

“Atta girl kitty.” Peter called, creaming Matt’s cock as he stilled, filling you up just the same. His grunts were like music to your ears, following you as you came down from the little cloud you were perched on.

“So good baby. Just stay put, yeah?” Matt murmured, and you didn’t even have the strength to nod as he slowly inched his way out of you, both of their cum now slowly spilling out of you as your legs twitched and quivered.

You couldn't move even if you wanted to. Your body felt like jello, and you felt your lower half slowly slide down onto the bed as you whimpered.

“Hurts s’bad.” you groaned, Peter's hand finding its way to stroke your cheek bringing you some form of comfort as you heard Matt start to run the tap, warm water spewing out onto a clean washcloth.

“I know kitty. But you did so good for us. It’s okay, just go back to sleep yeah?”

You nodded, eyes starting to droop as you clung to consciousness.

“I fucked her better you know.” Peter called, making Matt scoff as he returned with the damp fabric in hand.

“Yeah right. Older men just do it better Parker.” he shrugged, and you almost wanted to deride them. They were bickering like children and if you were in the position to bicker back- you would.

The feeling of the cloth against you made you jolt, and Peter reached out to steady you, rubbing small soothing circles on your back as Matt cleaned you.

It was strange and unfamiliar, the kindness and soothing physical contact the men were showing you. You bathed in it, scared it would all slip away like sand when the after-orgasm haze wore off.

“I’m sure Murdock. But who got to have her first?”

“Because she was sleeping right next to you! In my bed, may I add.”

You rolled your eyes, their endless arguing lingering over to the kitchen as you clung to the warm blankets that smelt of them.

It was going to be a long day indeed.

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celestialsister0918 · 6 months

Text

Fireside: A Sirius Black Christmas Oneshot

Happy holidays, loves! Here is a gift for my Sirius Black friends. Tumblr exclusive for now, probably cross-posted to my AO3 and Wattpad eventually.

A few warnings— it’s EXPLICIT smut. 18+ interaction only, please.

It’s a Sirius x You (fem-reader) fic, but you have a House. It was necessary for the plot. Hopefully you are House-flexible or can be for the next 6k+ words.

Get warm and cozy and enjoy… and please let me know what you think… reblogs are much appreciated, as are likes and comments. I love chatting with readers and fellow Sirius lovers.

You stood at the doorway to Number Twelve with your heart beating wildly against your chest. Harry and the other students had left for second term just a few short hours ago, with the Weasleys close behind. They were giving Arthur the chance to continue his recovery at the Burrow, hoping to speed his efforts with the comforts of home rather than the sullen, dreary darkness of Grimmauld Place. At least that’s what you’d overheard in their whispers after last night’s dinner, which had followed the last meeting of the Order for the year.

The whispers, of course, were for the benefit of the one inhabitant of the house who wasn’t granted the choice of leaving. No matter how dark and dreary, no matter how much his spirits needed lifting. And they certainly seemed to need lifting last night. As soon as the meeting had adjourned, Sirius Black retreated upstairs with nary a goodbye. Harry had seemed disappointed at this. It was only natural he’d want to soak up every minute possible with his godfather before returning to Hogwarts. But Black had fallen prey to another “fit of the sullens,” as Molly liked to label them with a disapproving shake of her head.

You understood those types of fits all too well, having suffered your own tragedies throughout the Wizarding Wars, as well as typical adolescent heartaches and disappointments that seemed to continue into your early adult years too. Maybe you simply took things too seriously. Life just seemed to come easy to more carefree witches and the wizards that worshiped them. You’d heard stories that Sirius Black himself used to fall into that lighthearted, devil-may-care category many years ago. But he’d experienced unimaginable darkness, and you knew the last thing he needed was to hide away alone, even if he fought you tooth and nail over it.

With a sharp intake of breath, you broke through the warded door with charms meant only for official gatherings of the Order. You prayed to the gods that there wasn’t some terrible punishment for doing so. You sighed with relief when you were greeted only by the eerie silence of cold, dark air— which was a sound unto itself, strange as that seemed. The familiar dank smell filled your nostrils, but it didn’t bother you. It simply set the ambience of a home filled with magic and mystery and stories, dreaded though some of them may be. The walls were alive with history, and there was something intriguingly romantic about the place, if you were honest. You knew the man you were about to encounter would adamantly disagree and would probably throw you out on your arse for thinking so. You’d be sure to keep your strange admiration for the place to yourself for a while, at least until he warmed up to you a bit.

That could take awhile indeed, you thought grimly. Rather than start on such a task right away, you chose to descend to the kitchen and make yourself a calming cup of tea. Perhaps a drop or two of schnapps for some liquid courage were in order also. As the kettle warmed, you made your way to the flocked tree in the rear of the kitchen and smiled as you studied the ornaments there. Sirius himself had conjured and crafted most of them just days earlier, when he’d been noticeably more joyful. The anticipation of Christmas had lifted him out of his funk, and he’d been determined to replace his family’s fancy heirloom ornaments with much more colorful, animated, and exciting ones. You enjoyed examining them while you waited for the kettle to whistle. They were a glimpse into his true self— the fun, whimsical side you always heard about in tales from the older Order members.

You’d seen that side a bit in your interactions with him so far. He had a certain glint in his eye as he teased you for your lack of coordination, which coincidentally had landed you in his lap one evening when you’d hooked the toe of your boot unceremoniously under the crossbar of the wooden kitchen bench.

“I- I’m so sorry,” you had stammered, your face painfully hot. He’d caught you with an arm scooped under your back.

“I’m not,” he’d quipped back with a glimmer in his blue gray eyes. And he’d given your thigh a couple quick pats with his large palm, just fatherly enough that you weren’t quite sure if he saw you as a cute, clumsy, overgrown kid— or something a bit sexier, as that glimmer in his eye along with his comment might have suggested.

Subsequent meetings were difficult after that fateful fall. You couldn’t stop your eyes from straying in his direction. In spite of his scraggly, unkept stubble and perhaps accelerated aging from Azkaban, he was undoubtedly a beautiful man. The Black family genetics were famous for a reason. Their symmetry and grace, smooth skin, full and shiny hair, and silky, aristocratic voices were mesmerizing. It was no wonder they drifted toward the Dark Arts; with gifts like that, they could clearly coerce lesser mortals into doing anything.

Sirius was made only more handsome by the tattoos that covered the previews of skin he revealed— a sexy “fuck you” to the house, the Black family line, and anyone who may chide him for daring to be different. You admired the confidence his swaths of ink portrayed, and each passing meeting made you yearn to study them up close. For academic purposes, of course. Continuing education in Ancient Runes. Field work.

“Do you not take sugar in your tea?”

The voice was quite light and innocent, but it startled you so much you spilled said tea straight through the holes of your wool sweater.

“Fuck!” you hissed. “You scared me, Black.”

He smiled and strode behind you, reaching around your front to grasp a kitchen rag that hung from the lower cupboard handle. He spun you around with hands on your upper arms and promptly began absorbing the spill. Of course he could have taken care of it with a mere wand wave. Interesting that he chose the more manual route.

“I scared you?” Sirius mused. “And to think you’re the one breaking and entering and stealing my tea. Which, strangely, you’re sipping black at the moment. Is this because you don’t know where to find the proper accompaniments, or are you simply that odd?”

“Simply that odd, I’m afraid,” you admitted, leaning back against the wooden counter with legs outstretched. “I like it black. Enjoy the flavor.”

This was met with a slightly arched eyebrow, but he recovered quickly and reached around you again to grab his own mug.

“I prefer it quite sweet, and loaded with cream, personally,” Sirius commented, voice still maddeningly silky and light. It tickled over your eardrums like a melody. His tongue snaked out as he tilted the mug to his lips and slurped.

“Don’t you Blacks have to attend some finishing school before you’re sent to Hogwarts?” you teased him. “Don’t they teach you not to slurp there?”

Sirius didn't miss a beat. “You’ll find I’m a bit of a dog, darling. I’m rather noisy and messy with my mouth.”

That rush of heat filled your cheeks again, and you found yourself trembling a little with adrenaline at how quickly things had escalated. Or did they? The conversation was quite innocent, on a service level. Perhaps your building desire for him had you reading things that weren’t there. You decided to change the subject and try to calm your racing blood.

“You seem quite a bit… happier… than the other day,” you offered as he continued to enjoy his tea. “Did you have a nice day today?”

Sirius seemed to snort. “I had a fucking awful day. How could I have anything but in a place like this?”

“I’m sure it’s not so bad, with the right company,” you pointed out nervously, suddenly scared you might piss him off enough that he’d order you to leave.

“I’ve had nothing but company for weeks,” he replied. “It can help, I suppose. But I’m still trapped.”

You weren’t quite sure what to say to this, so you busied yourself with your own mug, roving the kitchen slowly to avoid eye contact while you plotted where to go next.

“Is that why you’re here?” Sirius continued softly. “Do you believe you’re the ‘right company?’” His expression seemed skeptical.

You shrugged shakily. “I— I dunno. I guess I just thought… you shouldn’t be alone. I… I like being alone occasionally. But you… you don’t really seem like that type.”

“Not a bit,” he agreed. “But it’s not just about the company. It’s about experiences. And I’ve experienced everything there is to do here. Millions of miserable times over.”

You bit your lip, knowing you could never be so bold as to suggest novel experiences he might try. You were pretty sure he hadn’t had many of those— if any— within these walls. Not with multitudes of pureblood portraits staring him down. Of course he very well could have fooled around with pureblood girls here growing up, right? Just because he wasn’t a supremacist like his forebears didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy a dip in the pureblood pool from time to time.

“So,” he continued, addressing you by your name as he crept closer, step by step. “What experiences are you bringing with your company? How will you keep me from being bored?” His eyebrows arched and narrowed adorably with his words as he challenged you.

He stopped just short of invading your space, so you could still view him easily from head to toe. He wore a thick velvet robe in deep burgundy overtop a black and green pinstripe shirt that was honestly a bit… Slytherin-like, when taken in isolation. Perhaps he hadn’t invested in a new wardrobe upon his return and simply relied on the house’s contents. But it suited him nonetheless— this regal contrast of the two houses adorned with his double Albert chain and shiny brown dress shoes. Of course the colors were befitting the season as well, a reminder that Christmas joy still lingered in the air, if one looked for it. You imagined that the house once saw splendid Christmas feasts— glittering, elegant affairs filled with firelight and extravagance as the Wizarding World’s upper crust filled every floor. Personally you enjoyed picturing something more intimate, more cozy, within those old walls.

“Let’s light a fire,” you suggested, setting your teacup down and leading the way to the parlor.

Sirius scoffed behind you but followed nonetheless. “Why would we do that? The entirety of the house is under a warming charm, darling.”

“Hogwarts has fires in the common rooms, does it not? They were nice.”

“Nice, but obviously unnecessary,” he continued practically.

“You need some actual warmth in this place,” you insisted, setting to work lighting the floo. “The kind of warmth that feels good on the inside too. Comfort. A glow.”

“You’re a Hufflepuff, aren’t you?” Sirius asked with a snicker, reclining in a large, faded velvet armchair. He spread his legs in a wide slouch, and you couldn’t help but gaze downward at the movement. Thick, ribbed corduroy slacks hugged thin legs and tapered down to fine silk socks, above which you saw the faintest glimpse of pale skin and dark hair.

“What does my house matter?” you returned in a non-answer. The fire roared to life in the large black marble, and instead of joining him in the companion armchair, you chose to settle on the rug right in front of the flames. Your skin was already on fire, of course, from the turn-on of his earlier proximity and banter. But the added warmth felt nice, and you hugged your knees to your chest.

“Your house doesn’t matter,” he agreed. Just simply a guess. Now, what about that experience you’re going to offer me? Still waiting for an answer on that one.” Sirius rested an elbow on the chair arm, his fingers toying with the ends of his long mustache where it met the unruly stubble on his chin.

“Come down here with me. This is an experience,” you responded, patting the empty space next to you on the rug. It was thick and smooth, richly woven, and of course very expensive. You could feel thick loops of fine threads beneath your fingers as you traced its intricate pattern.

“Sitting by a fire?” Sirius asked incredulously. But he did make a move to join you, settling down in the spot you indicated and then shifting closer. His robe brushed the sleeve of your sweater, and he made no move to back away.

“Well, what kind of experience did you have in mind?” you shot back.

Sirius shrugged innocently, eyes twinkling in the dim light. “No idea, love. You’re the one who showed up on my doorstep, remember? Don’t you have a plan for these things? Or are they spontaneous? Maybe you’re a Gryffindor then?”

You gave a small smile, refusing to answer the question. Instead you studied the details of his face you’d never noticed from afar, features augmented by the dancing shadows of light. He had a very well defined facial muscle that gave an intermittent sexy twitch. And another defined crease on the underneath of his nose that made you curious if you had one; you had always just envisioned it to be smooth. But most magnificent was the way the firelight bounced off of every soft curl — a bountiful dark mahogany crown that would be the envy of any woman alive. You longed to run your hands through it, betting it was even more luxurious than the tapestry rug beneath your increasingly aroused bottom half.

“I’m beginning to feel rather exposed,” Sirius declared, amused. “I don’t think I’ve ever been examined in such detail before. Is this for ‘science,’ as the Muggles say?”

You cleared your throat nervously. “Uh, yes. Wizarding genetics, I guess. You’re just very… impressive.” You winced at the terrible recovery.

Sirius responded with a sweep of a tattooed hand over your cheek. “I’m flattered, coming from a witch as exquisite as yourself. Not to mention young. I believe I have quite a few years on you, yes?”

Your heartbeat was painfully audible as you tried to craft an answer. His fingers still explored your face, alternating with occasional twists of an adjacent lock of your hair. Each sweep of his skin over yours seemed to make your veins tremble.

You truly didn’t know how to respond. Your Muggle friend had once informed you that the term for your specific brand of fixation was “daddy kink,” but you weren’t sure admitting that would do you any favors. You liked how his touch was so self-assured, and the richness of his scent, and how he always knew what to say without hesitation. You liked how the hard lines of his face and hands denoted strength and experience. And you liked how he made you feel small and fragile and protected just by being near you. You wished you could tell him all that without sounding ridiculous. But you were fairly certain you were already communicating it with your parted lips, panting breath, and love-drunk eyes.

“You are going to make my night interesting after all, aren’t you, little one?” Sirius husked, and the bud between your legs danced frantically up and down in response. How did he know to call you that? Your eyes closed with the dizziness of your anticipation, and the hand that had drifted so gently over your cheek now rested fully on your throat. His scent became even more pronounced, alerting you to his closeness just before his mustache tickled your upper lip in the briefest of warnings.

The kiss he gave you was chaste and just enough for you to learn the shape of his lips before he pulled away.

“If you don’t want this, you need to tell me,” Sirius said, his voice low as it drifted directly across your ear. “I’ll stop if you ask me to— at any point. But this is the only asking I’ll be doing myself. Once I begin, you’ll find I’m far too busy to stop and check in.”

His forehead rested gently on yours, his deep blue eyes smoky in the dim light.

“Busy doing what?” you whispered— half teasingly, half desperate for the fire between your legs to be stoked by all the dirty things he would promise.

Sirius chuckled lowly. “You like dirty talk, little one?”

Your affirmative answer came as a whimper, which elicited another devilish chuckle from his lips.

“Very well,” he said silkily. He punctuated the words with another firm kiss on your lips, this time allowing the very tip of his tongue to trace the outline of the bottom one before planting light kisses along your jawline to your earlobe. He paused there, allowing a breath to tickle your ear before he spoke.

“I am going to make every part of your body come alive, as if I cast a spell. But there will be no wand— only my hands, my mouth, my voice. I will make your delicious cunt so wet it will be weeping for my cock. Then I will bury it in you so deep you scream… so loud you’ll wake every portrait in this house and make them curse your sweet, beautiful name. You will ride my cock for as many mind-numbing orgasms as your body can handle, then I will take my pleasure and fill you so full of my seed that it trickles down these soft, smooth thighs all day long tomorrow. You’ll feel it and remember me, and you’ll want it all over again.”

Sirius accompanied his filthy murmurings with firm strokes to your inner thigh, hand already buried inside your skirt. You let out an almost agonized groan in response— all intelligible communication now impossible. Your body literally shook just from his promises, and you knew the look you gave him as he came to a kneel on the rug was one of complete and utter submission.

His hands came beneath your head to cradle it, hands swept in the tangle of your hair as kisses became more insistent, open-mouthed, and allowed you taste the salt and firewhisky on his breath. His tongue explored in gentle licks followed by long sweeps of your mouth, as if it was truly a mission to discover inner parts of you and not just kissing.

You became eager for his hands to move elsewhere, but they still held your head still for his mouth to continue its wicked work. His kisses made your head spin, but the rest of your body felt in heat and neglected. You came to your knees yourself, hands introducing themselves to the sturdy velvet of his jacket, your legs making a move to straddle one of his trousered thighs. He let out a low laugh.

“So eager,” he chastised. “I’m the one who hasn’t shagged in fourteen years, yet I’m the one demonstrating all the patience.”

“I want you!” you defended yourself breathlessly, not even caring if you sounded desperate now. You just needed relief, and to have this wizard covering every inch of you.

“Ah, there it is. The answer I needed to my question,” he said with a wink. “You needed to give me permission, you know.”

“You have it,” you insisted, and as a visual aid to your words, you took the initiative to shrug out of your own sweater. Your breasts swelled over the cups of your lacy, favorite-colored bra. You noticed Sirius became strangely still at the sight, his mouth parting.

“Fucking beautiful,” he managed to mutter, and he cast his own robe aside to free his movement as he reclined you both onto the rug. His fingers gently slid one strap from your shoulder, replacing it with his mouth and soft whiskers. The detailed attention he paid to a spot as random as your shoulder reminded you of his promise to awaken every part of your body. Sirius planned to make every cell literally beg.

His kisses danced across your collarbone in a similar fashion, tended to the next shoulder, then came to center on your pulse point, where he began a gentle suction. You let out a cry at this and took the chance to enjoy his gorgeous, thick curls while he worked his mouth on your upper body’s most sensitive spot.

“I’m going to have wicked marks if you keep doing that,” you teased with a whisper. Sirius’s nose brushed your earlobe as he went for the other side, sucking the sensitive skin beneath like he was starving.

“Good,” he finally broke to whisper back. “And your neck’s not the only spot I plan to mark you.” He added teeth to the mix now, grazing lightly over your throbbing pulse. Would he bite? Would you even care if he did? But he only threatened such before moving lower, working your arms out of the dangling bra straps to reveal your breasts to him. His breath caught in his chest as he appreciated them with his eyes first before cupping them hard, one in each hand. His rough thumbs drove your nipples into peaks, watching each little bump emerge with fascination.

You observed him with a smile, arms leaned back behind you to prop you up for his amusement. You realized of course that it had been over a decade since he’d played with such toys, and though your body was humming for more, you granted him his boy-like fun. Sirius alternated between circling your nipples into painfully hard peaks and kneading your breasts like dough before finally suckling the left into his mouth. The action caused your eyes to roll back in your head. This wizard knew what he was doing. It was more than just taking the soft, pliable tissue into his mouth— he created a firm, merciless suction whose movements echoed between your thighs in violent waves. Your legs parted reflexively, and you grabbed his hand, encouraging it down to feel your burning heat.

“Please touch me,” you begged. “I’m so wet for you.”

Sirius responded to this with a hungry growl, releasing your breast to reveal brand new marks as promised. He gave the other another very rough squeeze before grabbing at your skirt, ripping it downward. He sent it hurling away, narrowly missing the fire. The rip of lace echoed through the air as your knickers followed.

“Am I supposed to walk home with no knickers tomorrow?” you mused above the noisy kisses he planted to the soft skin of your stomach.

“You’re not going home tomorrow,” he replied quickly. “And you’ll be naked all day. And you certainly won’t be walking by the time I’m finished with you.”

“Oh, so you— you like it rough then?” you asked between gasps, shuddering as his fingers traced the tops of your inner thighs, which opened to the hot breaths drifting over your sex.

“Not always,” he answered, grinning up at you from between your parted legs. “But the Black family genetics extend to other endowments as well. In both size and stamina. Even sweeter lovemaking can lend itself to the need for pain potions, love. Do you still consent?”

You licked your lips and lowered your eyes, feeling them burn with sultry want. “I thought you weren’t going to ask anymore?”

“Gryffindor chivalry,” he dismissed with an adorable pursing of his lips. “It’s a curse sometimes.”

“Yes, I consent,” you answered with a grin of your own. “But before you touch me like I asked, I want you out of those clothes. I need to see this endowment of which you speak.”

Sirius sat up and gave your thighs a swift tap before closing them. Your own wetness was dripping onto them at this point, and you could smell sex on the air already.

“You don’t believe me?” he inquired with raised brows.

“Well, you know, Gryffindors are fond of bragging…”

Sirius let out a deep laugh. “So I can assume you’re not a Gryffindor, then, with a comment like that.” He stood and began disrobing, his thumbs drifting over the buttons of the dark green shirt. Each tattoo he revealed made you salivate. He wore a thick, shiny belt buckle now displayed over a prominent bulge in his trousers, and you imagined he was growing quite uncomfortable in there.

“Still not telling you my house,” you replied, shifting your closed legs from one side to the other as you watched your strip show, offering him tantalizing glimpses of your cunt and arse but never separating your thighs for a full view. Sirius never took his eyes off of you, and when his trousers swiftly lowered, you were greeted by the surprise of no underwear— followed by the thick, glorious inches of a very hard, uncut, pureblood cock on display. Your jaw dropped open.

“Already opening up for me?” Sirius commented silkily. “Good girl.”

You nodded, ready to have your mouth fucked speechless if that’s what he wanted. But Sirius seemed to have other plans, pouncing back on you in under a second. He parted your legs almost violently, his face voracious as he plunged his nose into your soaking wetness to inhale before licking furiously.

“Oh, fucking gods!” you moaned, arching into his frenzied movements. He was truly very noisy and beast-like with his mouth, as he’d warned. His tongue alternated between flat, all-encompassing licks across your entire slit, and tiny, strong, targeted flicks around your bud. He approached your sensitive, nerve-filled opening with his tongue in a stiff point, swirling it around to beckon wetness from you in droves.

“I’m fucking drowning you down there,” you moaned, arching your back against the soft rug.

“I told you I like loads of sweet cream,” Sirius responded with a murmur. “Keep it coming, love. Soak my face.”

His tongue rammed your g-spot now, his whole stubbled face buried in your cunt. Your smell filled the hot air and was so sexy you wanted some yourself. Sirius seemed in tune with your needs because his fingers found your hole as his tongue drifted upward to concentrate on your swollen bud again.

“Let me taste your fingers,” you whispered.

“So you do like sugar and cream after all?” he chuckled before obliging with a rather rough shove of his soaked digits into your mouth. His wet stubble scratched your face as his words sought your ear. “Or maybe you’re just a very dirty girl.”

You sucked the delicious sweet-salty combo from Sirius’s fingers, offering kitten licks, strong suction, and previews of all the things he could expect once that glorious cock was in your mouth. His hand found its place within your slit again and began purposeful movements, the back of his palm massaging your clit as his fingers found the g-spot again, kneading the spongy, swollen tissue.

“Please fuck me,” you begged. “I need your cock.”

“Oh yeah?” he mused delicately, leveling his heady eyes to yours. “You don’t like what my fingers are doing to you, darling?”

“I love it,” you panted. “But I’m gonna come!”

“Then come, sweetheart. You can still come on my cock. Promise.” Sirius’s hand picked up its pace so any resistance was hopeless. His mouth returned to your neck to secure you in place as the waves took over your body, your whole frame convulsing in one giant shake after another with your beautiful release against his hand. Sirius’s wet mouth closed over yours, his tongue invading as he situated his warm, taut body between your legs. Your bud was still tingling with aftershocks when he touched the head of his cock to it, angling for pressure.

His girthy shaft sought its spot between your glistening lower lips, hips driving the thick tip up against the underside of your clit, and his hard, veiny surface sliding against your still swollen vulva. Sirius wasn’t going to let the pressure ease for even a minute, making sure to build another climax even stronger than the first for his cock to work you through.

“Inside me, please!” you breathed into his mouth.

“I think you can come just like this, darling,” he argued. “Don’t you?” The ridge of his cockhead massaged your clit furiously with his back and forth, and your body gushed messily all over his shaft. Your nails made deep half moons in his tattooed shoulders.

“Y— yes, I can come for you.” You arched up to grind into his impossibly hard length, seeking the rhythm and friction you needed to push over the edge. It required wild gyration and complete abandonment of any self consciousness. Your breasts bounced against his chest, and you clung so tightly to him to ground yourself that your nose was buried in his curls, smelling his animalic musk.

You screamed as you reached peak again, the tremors tinier this time but still exquisite. Exhausted, you fell limply to the rug and took him with you, giving grateful caresses to the smooth skin of his back. Of course you were still aware of his inches throbbing against your thigh, and you knew you had to summon more energy if you were going to give Sirius the satisfaction he needed. The man hadn’t lain with a woman in nearly a decade and a half, and you wanted his cock thoroughly and ecstatically drained. You’d be lying, though, if your twice-satisfied cunt wasn’t worried about such a massive invasion. Your gratitude for the blissful, explosive orgasms aside— you kind of wish he’d honored your request and fucked you when you were swollen, open, and on fire.

Sirius raised himself on his elbows, gazing down at you with a lazy smile.

“You’re really fucking beautiful, you know that, Slytherin girl?”

You blinked and jumped. ��What?”

Sirius gnawed at his lip and continued to grin, deep blue eyes sparkling. “You heard me.”

“What makes you say that?” you demanded. “You haven’t even guessed Ravenclaw yet!”

“You let me fuck you way too dumb to be a ‘Claw, and I haven’t even fucked you yet,” he pointed out. “I’ve had my fair share of Ravenclaw witches, and they never quite know when to shut up, Merlin love them.”

“Hey, Slytherins are smart too,” you said with a narrowed brow before you could stop yourself.

Sirius gave a hard smack to your arse before pulling you onto your side, his erection buried in your stomach. You laid breasts to chest, feet and legs entangled, faces flush.

“Tell me,” he said with a slight scowl. “How did they let another Slytherin into the Order? Do they not have standards anymore?”

“Oh, fuck you, Black,” you muttered.

“You’re still doing that, darling, don’t worry. No slithering your way out of that one. You know I’m just trying to rile you up and get you going again so you can handle my cock. Maybe a hate-fuck would be a nice game, now that our alliances are on the table? Would you like that?” His fingers tickled down your ribs and hips before finding the triangle he sought, just his fingertips easing lower to scissor your bud.

“Our ‘alliances’ are the same, you prick,” you laughed, accepting his fingers with an approving arch of your hips.

“Yes, but this new tidbit makes it so much more fun,” he insisted. “You’ve delivered on that new experience I wanted. A fine Christmas present indeed.”

“So this is your first time with a Slytherin?” you asked, doing nothing to hide your pride at that possibility.

“Virgin,” Sirius confirmed with a nod. “As if twelve years in Azkaban didn’t revirginize me enough, this makes it official. Now, show me what I’ve been missing.” He collapsed rather dramatically on the rug, hand behind his head, curls strewn about the intricate paisley pattern. His body was breathtaking— glowing in the firelight, each turn of muscle accentuated by shadow, each tattoo taking turns in the spotlight with the maneuver of flames. And at the center of the beauty was that cock, which hadn’t lost a bit of wind with this latest reveal of information. A generous leak of precum glistened at the tip, and you lowered your mouth to drink it in, your hair tickling his thighs. The first taste left you craving more, and your mouth slid over his huge shaft like a sleeve, locking him in your throat. You heard a grunt of shock escape his mouth.

“Fuck, that was fast,” Sirius groaned.

You eased off of him teasingly, lips forming an up and down suction which you accompanied with twists of your hand. He tasted positively feral yet clean and refined, just as you would have imagined. His tip leaked loads into your mouth, feeling like it would burst at any second if it weren’t for his exceptional control.

“Mmm… you taste good, Black,” you moaned approvingly. “Almost good enough that I’d settle for your load in my mouth if I didn’t want you to fuck my pussy so badly.”

“On your knees, fucking snake cunt,” he ordered with a wink, the fact that it was a game unmistakable. You gave one long, final suck up his shaft and gave a squeeze to his balls, drawing another deep groan from him.

In an instant Sirius’s hands were in your hips, holding you in place while his dripping head found your center. He was right— the banter had you on fire again, and your swollen walls took every inch of him as he pushed inside without hesitation.

“Ahhhh!” you cried out, unable to help yourself. His hips were a frenzy, abandoning every bit of his previous control now that he was within your tightness. Your breasts bounced in mad circles with the force of his pounding, and sure enough, you could hear the portraits stirring down the hall from the primal noises the two of you made.

“Oh, Sirius, yes,” you breathed, enjoying the repeated raking of his tip, ridge, and underside along your spongy, swollen front wall. He knew just how much to drag back and surge forward, never breaking the rhythm you needed to build to another crest in a matter of minutes. His chest was sweaty when it made contact with your back, and he occasionally dropped open-mouthed kisses to the skin of your shoulder blades with his forward surges. Every so often he broke his rigid support on the rug to squeeze your breasts, kneading them so tightly you knew you’d have bruises for weeks.

“Feel good, love?” he husked, and you knew he knew full well you were beyond good. His ego just wanted to hear it.

“Yes, Sirius. Fuck yes. Please come inside me.”

And it was truly your foremost want in that moment — to fill his hot cum paint your insides and have the satisfaction of giving him what he’d needed for so long. He renewed his lock tight grip on your hips and granted your request, resuming the pounding of your g-spot but faster now, the friction very much for his benefit— with yours as a mere pleasant side effect.

“Fuck, yes, I’m gonna fill you so full,” he promised breathily. “And you better come for me again. You better scream.”

You reached around to toy with your clit and make sure you obeyed his command, but he swatted your hand away and replaced it with his own, his fingers taking on a rhythm to match his snapping hips. All you could do was let out a long stream of moans and buck furiously in return, knowing that chasing your own pleasure would only increase his. His escalated moans confirmed he was approaching release, and you grinned as you picked up the pace even more feverishly, wanting to torture it out of him.

“Fucking GODS!!!” Sirius yelled, and he emptied into you with one hot jet after another, so much it ran right back out over his trembling cock. You kept your pace even after his cock stilled, the added lubricant from his release making easy work of your movements. The thought of being filled with him made your orgasm deliciously hot and dirty as your walls burned with pain and need. Sirius recovered enough to resume the pace of his fingers on your clit, and you spilled over the edge, lurching forward in a series of shakes that wracked your entire body.

You fell forward onto your belly, a mess dripping from your insides, your muscles and bones useless, your skin bruised. It was every way you should feel after a proper fuck. Your brain positively hummed with endorphins, and you breathed in the deliciousness of your combined sex on the air. You could hear Sirius struggling to regain his breath behind you, and you knew he looked sexy as fuck back there. But you were too exhausted to lift yourself up and look.

You weren’t even sure how much time had passed when you felt his arms encircle you, along with the cold rush of air as he lifted you from the warmth of the rug. He wasn’t a huge man, though you’d heard from other Order members that he was considerably stronger now than when he’d escaped the sea prison two years ago. He carried you easily up multiple twists of stairs until you reached a Gryffindor red room on the very top level. Then Sirius nestled you gingerly into a brightly colored duvet.

“Will you be able to sleep with this much red, or should I move you to the green room next door?” he asked dryly, shuffling his naked body next to yours and leaving you little choice in the matter.

“Well, it is Christmastime,” you reminded him sleepily. “The two play rather nicely together right now.”

Sirius responded by nuzzling into your shoulder, his whiskers scratching tiny red prickles into your skin.

#orderofthephoenix #older sirius black #post azkaban sirius #gary oldman #sirius black x you #sirius black one shot #sirius black x y/n #smut #christmas smut #sirius black smut #sirius black imagine #oneshot #grimmauld place

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neonthewrite · 3 months

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The Office Fae

The next prompt was Tangled, and I ended up with a brand new character for this one. He's fun so far. I'm enjoying his very gremlin energy. I hope you all like him too!

~~~

Life in an office building generally worked well for Simon, despite technically being a house fae. The rules could be fuzzy on that front, with so many humans coming and going every day. Sure, there wasn’t a singular family loving the place and cherishing their lives there, but a lot of humans from many families liked the building and their jobs there well enough to make the energy inviting. Something about flexible hours, good wages, and a solid benefits package made for a harmonious office with plenty of memories–some friendly, some dramatic, even some spicy memories.

Plus there was a vending machine. Simon came for the vibes originally, but he absolutely stayed for the vending machine. At a modest five and three quarter inches tall, he had easy access to a good variety of things in portions that lasted him days.

Another house fae rule he bent–it wasn’t precisely a bowl of cream left out for him specifically, but nobody could expect that these days. Keeping the vending machine stocked was close enough, and if the light bulbs and printer cartridges in the building all lasted longer than they should, well, Simon earned his keep. He probably saved them hundreds on the annual operations budget.

Work always slowed down around the end of winter, aside from some buzzing over in the accounting office. All the holiday parties were done and the potluck food all taken home from the break room fridges. Simon planned for it and handled it well, though things could get cold with the shorter hours and heat on less to make up for the emptier office.

To that end, Simon wintered in the ceiling of the server room. The servers, bulkier and taller than a human, stood clustered in a side room and were never turned off. Blinking lights of green and red and blue twinkled on each machine, colors filtering into the ceiling along with the ample warmth those hulking obelisks gave off.

With so much downtime, he found himself perched near an opening in the ceiling, a spot where the tile had broken off long ago, and watched the server lights flicker on the tangled mess of multicolored cables that ran between them. It was a game of his to trace each cable from end to end with his eyes, idly kicking his bare, grey-skinned feet (his skin had shifted to a tasteful, cool grey a few years ago after an office refresh had updated all the paint). Long, slender fingers absently braided silky hair the color of faded ballpoint ink while he scanned the cables with eyes reminiscent of the shocking, dreaded blue of a computer on its way out.

Most house fae took on colors in equal parts camouflage and defense. Simon would be tough to spot if he happened to be out in the open near a human, but if someone did see him, humans never liked seeing that blue. So his eyes would probably protect him.

Not that he ever intended to test that. As much as he liked his many many humans and their water cooler chatter, Simon was realistic. They wouldn’t like him much even if he shared their scale. All his features were a bit elongated, just enough to seem strange and other. He only wore flowing pants made of scrap fabric and he ate bugs sometimes. Humans would call him scary or freaky or any number of words they had for things they didn’t like, and if his eyes couldn’t scare them off he’d be in danger of a rolled up magazine or a dusty phone book.

He’d stayed hidden for a long time, and he anticipated many games of look-at-cables in his future, all without humans being a bother.

Of course, until they were a slight bother anyway. Simon paused his movements and tensed when the door opened abruptly. Light flooded in and he lost track of the cable he was tracing when he looked over, grateful for his higher vantage point and the human tendency to ignore background details.

Two figures stood there, one familiar and one not. One was Tom, a human whose limbs gangled a bit but whose middle had padded out after so many years in a desk job. His bald spot glowed with light from the hallway, and his rumpled t-shirt sported a band name Simon thought he recognized. From what Simon knew, Tom was every bit an IT master and a vital cog in keeping the office running smoothly. He didn’t have to dress any higher than casual.

The other human was a new face. A woman, probably younger than Tom by a couple decades. Her dark skin contrasted with his pale complexion. Her hair, coily and thick, grew longer atop her head though it was tapered close at the sides. She wore a smart blouse and slacks, which Simon immediately recognized as the sort of thing one wore to a job interview, or one’s first day at work.

Tom waved a hand at the servers whirring away in the room. “Servers in here. Probably not gonna need to be in here a ton, but y’know. If something needs a reset…”

The woman nodded and smiled faintly as she scanned the room. “What are the chances I can fix up some of those cables?”

She said it as a joke. Simon didn’t find it funny at all. Tom did. He laughed. “Now that I get someone to pass tasks like that along to, I imagine I can convince the bossman to let me schedule a maintenance day. Now, let’s get you some of your equipment…”

The door closed and the humans walked away, and Simon cared not at all for their conversation or the rest of the onboarding for this new IT interloper. She wanted to organize the cables, which simply would not do. Simon stalked back to his makeshift camp to get his pack.

This new hire was simply not a good fit, and he’d do what he could to stop her horrible plan.

#gtjuly #gtjuly2023 #mywriting #simon the office fae #gt #g/t #giant tiny

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kiefbowl · 1 year

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job interview advice pls!

Research the company before hand via their website. Try to mirror the language they use publicly. If they have a section about company culture, talk up company culture. If they have their mission statement on their website, try to appear to align with their values. You don't want this to feel too rehearsed or fake, so don't practice too much and don't try to memorize things off their website. Just read it up and get a sense of their vibe and the words they like to use, and keep it in the back of your mind. If it flows with the conversation, you could casually mention you saw something on the website you had a question about, thus proving you did your research (which is good!)

Have questions at the ready, and don't have zero questions. In fact have a lot of questions. Have questions about the job and company (and benefits!!!!!), but also have questions about career growth and the next step process. I always ask "how many other candidates are you considering?" because this will give you a sense of where you stand. For example, they might tell you "we have several more we're interviewing this week" or they might say "we've interviewed about five and will be discussing our decision tomorrow." Or they might be so vague you can assume they're not going to consider you past this point. Other great questions are "What are the next steps" and "How soon will you be making the decision" so that you aren't walking out unsure of when, how, or if you'll hear from them again. Be your own best advocate. Another thing to ask is questions about the company from the interviewer's perspective - "How long have you worked here? What's your career path looked like?" People love talking about themselves and this also demonstrates you're looking to fit into the whole infrastructure, not just trying to land a job.

Try to treat it like a conversation. It can be intimidating if you're just starting out, but if you try to come off as a pleasing yes man so excited to answer the questions they come up with, that's not going to be very memorable. Also if while answering a question, you volley back a question at them, you have now done a little exchange of power where you are now in control of the conversation a bit, because they will answer and then you get to say the next thing. Once they're talking about something, instead of being in the position where you have to come up with interesting things to talk about on the fly and hope they're relevant, they might remind you of something worthwhile to talk about. Is it more comfortable being asked "What sort of difficult choices have you had to make" or having a conversation with a person who might say "I remember when I was first starting out such and such thing happened" which might genuinely remind you of a relatable experience you had totally forgotten about. See the interviewer as a resource of knowledge, not just gatekeeper to what you want.

You have to seem like a fun and nice person, and you should be honest. "I'm a little nervous, I'm really excited about this opportunity" is not cringy, it's relatable and an ice breaker, and you've turned your negative "I'm nervous" into a positive "I'm eager." Things like "I'm looking for something that has flexible hours" might cost you an offer at a job you'd be miserable at, which can be frustrating at first but good in the long run. You obviously want to be selectively honest and present things in a professional way, but people don't want to work with wet blankets and ego maniacs. Cracking a joke, laughing, talking up hobbies, these are good things. Finding some common ground with the interviewer is fun too, because sometimes you knock them off track and you guys are just shooting the shit, and then they recommend you because they just remember liking you.

Treat the interview like a reasonable and good process, even if you hate it. Yeah, you're on the back foot. Yeah, it can feel inane sometimes. If you go into an interview with a sour attitude about how it should work differently, it doesn't matter how good of an actor you are, it'll come across. You won't be prepared to treat it like it's worth the time for both of you. The interviewer is there to find someone capable, worth the effort, with some potential, so treat it like talking to you is worth it when they probably have 100 other things they need to get back to. You're there to show you can do the job, you're fun to work with, and you want to fit into the company culture and infrastructure, so treat it like you're marketing yourself. You have to sell yourself not as the best person for the job, but the best person for the company, and you're happy to talk about it for the sake of the interviewer giving you a portion of their day!

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bluerosetarot · 4 months

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Everyone on Task Force 141 knew you had a date tonight since you'd been going on and on about it for the past week, so when you come back to base with puffy cheeks and eyes still red from crying a certain someone comes to comfort you.

Tags: female reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley, hurt/comfort, mild descriptions of violence (Simon wants to hurt whoever hurt you, after all), PIV rebound sex.

Tagging @the-californicationist because you wanted me to tag you once I posted this.

You hadn't been with the task force for long, but your presence had certainly had an impact on the team as a whole in the year and a half you'd been around. Being the youngest and shortest had earned you official "little sister" status despite the fact you could toss all of them around at hand to hand practice thanks to your lower center of gravity and aikido background, with the exception of Simon. That man was not only tall but was surprisingly flexible, which you took as a personal challenge.

"One of these days I'm going to topple you, Ghost." You'd all just come back from a sparring match and were sitting around a table enjoying your beverages of choice.

"Of course you will, sweet'eart." He'd smile behind his cuppa without looking at you, but you could see the slight wrinkles around the corners of his eyes. "An' one 'a these days Price'll start layin' golden eggs so we can all retire."

So imagine everyone's surprise when you mention you were seeing someone, a civvie you'd met on a dating app. You'd been gushing over your crush and hadn't noticed Soap playfully nudge Simon in his side or the glare the taller man gave him in return.

"Going out to see him on next leave, said he wanted to take me somewhere nice for dinner. And before any of you try anything I don't need backup, or shadowed, or anything else. I know we're all a little paranoid here but I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."

"Not you we'd be worried about, luv." Gaz gave you a knowing smile before continuing. "We're worried about the poor guy getting folded like a pretzel if 'is 'ands go anywhere they shouldn't, y'know?"

It took you a few months before you could properly go on a date; a mission got in the way, but you promised your new beau that as soon as you got back from your classified trip you'd be all his. Whenever you could, you messaged him, even sending him a few spicy pictures over the course of your flirting.

When the special night finally came around, you snuck off to your quarters to put on a lovely little black dress and did your makeup as best you could. Taking a look at yourself in the mirror, you psyched yourself up and inwardly hoped that you wouldn't run into anyone on your way out. That hope was quickly dashed upon the rocks of reality when you nearly ran into the brick wall named Ghost as you left the washroom.

"Bloody Jesus, Ghost. Trying to give me a heart attack?"

His answer was to scoff under his mask and lean against the wall beside you, those brown eyes of his looking you over as he slowly shook his head.

"Got no place to 'ide a knife, gun, or anythin' else. Sure you don't need any backup, luv?"

"I appreciate your concern, LT, but I should be fine."

He backed away with a chuckle, not expecting your tone to be so dry and he held up his hands in an appeasing gesture.

"Roight, roight. Well, knock 'im dead, luv. But if you aren't back by midnight, we'll all assume you turned into a pumpkin 'an start a search party. Deal?"

"Deal."

Your date went a bit... less than stellar. When you arrived at the restaurant, he'd been nearly a half hour late and was dressed more casual than you, but you weren't used to being all dolled up either so you gave him the benefit of the doubt. Conversation was minimal with him mostly talking about himself as you sat there bored until he hit you with a bombshell.

"You're hot like this, but now that you're my girl you're going to have to give up this whole military thing."

You'd been about to take a bite of food and nearly dropped your fork from laughing at what you thought was a joke, but he just got irritated.

"I'm serious. You can't go wasting your prime childbearing years pretending to be an action hero."

"Excuse me?" You matched his tone, a bit of annoyance seeping into your words. "What happened to you going nuts over my career plans? How you said you always liked a 'girl in uniform'?"

"Uniforms are hot, but I figured once we met, you'd realize you wanted a nice civilian life and leave all that fantasy behind you."

"Uh-huh..." Flagging down your waiter, you asked for the check. "I'll take my half of the check, please. This date is over."

"You can't just fucking leave!"

"I can..." Giving your card to the waiter, you then locked eyes with your sad excuse for a date. "And I will. See? I'm doing it right now."

Once your tab had been taken care of, you made a beeline for the door with the guy chasing after you, yelling at you to change your mind. He made the mistake of trying to grab your wrist, and you managed an aikido move that brought him down to a knee.

"You don't get to touch me that way, got it?"

You'd leaned down to stare daggers into him, a look you'd perfected from watching Ghost, and your failed date nodded in fear as he got up and backed away.

Turning on your heel, you made it to your car and closed the door before slumping over your steering wheel with a sigh. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, a mixture of sadness and anger. Willing yourself to wait until you got back to base for a good cry, you started the car and headed back but couldn't help a few stray tears from rolling down your cheeks.

It was a little past 2300 when you got back to base and, to your disappointment, there were a few lights still on. You'd hoped to take your walk of shame without anyone noticing, but fate had other plans. You hadn't realized that everyone in 141 was worried for you and stayed up to wait for you to come home.

Which meant that you opened the door to the common area, and four sets of eyes instantly looked up at you. All of them taking note of your tear streaked makeup making you feel warm and nervous.

Soap was the first one to speak up, cutting the tension with a joke.

"Aye, lass, who we needin' to knife up for ya?"

Price sat to his right and gave him a very good "not now" look as you clenched your jaw in annoyance.

"Don't want to talk about it." You turned to the Captain and gave him a polite nod. "Heading to bed, sir."

Taking a thoughtful puff of his cigar, he returned your nod.

"Right, everyone here should do the same. Lights out, everyone."

Gaz and Soap reluctantly got up. You could read it plain as day on their faces they wanted to pepper you with a thousand questions, but stern looks from both Price and Ghost made them think twice, and they both wished you a good night and hurried off to their rooms. Price followed after them after giving you one final concerned glance before heading down the hall.

It was Ghost that put a comforting hand on your shoulder. He had a way of sneaking up on everyone even when he was in plain sight, and this situation was no different. You tried your best to compose yourself before meeting his gaze, but something in his eyes made you break down when your eyes met and you let out a soft sound somewhere between a cry and a whimper.

"Fucking christ, look at me. All bent out of shape over little more than a schoolyard crush."

"If 'e 'urt ya I know plenty a places to hide a body 'round 'ere."

Where Soap has been jovial, you could tell Ghost was serious, and you couldn't stop an involuntary shiver creep down your spine before shaking your head.

"Not worth the effort, Ghost. But I appreciate it. Damn chauvinist thought I'd get one look at him and want to stop all my work here and pop out babies."

That got a laugh from the larger man, a deep rumble in his chest.

"Th' public doesn't realize all tha' we do to keep the world spinnin', luv. If you 'ad never joined up with us, who knows 'ow our missions would've gone. You've been damn good at not only covering our sixes on multiple occasions but..."

He trailed off, catching himself before he said something further. But this only made you more curious since this was the most words you'd ever hear the man string together outside of mission briefings.

"But what?"

"But... christ this is a bit embarrassing but you remind all of us what we're fightin' for, y'know? You remind us that we aren't just killin' machines an' that we're 'uman. That we do this to protect 'umanity, outside and within. Y' deserve someone who understands tha', not some chav bloke who sees y' as just a baby factory."

The hand that was on your shoulder went up to smooth his short hair back as his eyes looked away from yours. You thanked whatever god was up there that he did because he didn't see the blush creeping into your cheeks.

"Uhh... th-thanks, Ghost."

Those eyes locked back onto yours, and you could see the telltale crinkle of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that betrayed his smile.

"Y' can call me Simon, luv. Just between the two of us, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'll keep that in mind."

A heavy sigh left your lips, and you gave him a small smile.

"Simon. Think, uh... think you would want to join me for a bit tonight? It's been nice talking to someone who understands what's going on in my head."

That got an eyebrow raise from him, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Y' propositionin' your commanding officer now?"

His tone was low, tinted with humor, but his rough voice made it sound suggestive all the same. He left the question open, and it emboldened your reply.

"Well I need someone to really show me the difference between a "chav bloke" and a real man, don't I?"

With a look over his shoulder down the hall towards the barracks proper, no doubt making sure everyone else was already in bed, he nodded and gestured for you to lead the way.

"Ladies first, luv."

That earned him a playful punch in the arm, and you grabbed his hand in yours, leading him down the hall to your quarters.

Once inside your room with the door shut tight behind you, Simon was looming over you, pressing your body to the wall. In the dim light of your room you could barely see his eyes as they looked you over once more while his hand came up to cup your cheek.

"Y' sure about this, luv? Not that I mind bein' a rebound but I want to make sure y' really want this..."

He knew how to catch you off guard, that's for sure, and you gave him a reassuring nod. Your own hand reaching up to glide along his that caressed your face so gently, a welcome juxtaposition to his normally cold demeanor.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm actually glad that you, uh..."

Now it was your turn to stifle words better left unsaid, though those swallowed words turned into heat and crimson on your neck and cheeks as embarrassment kept you from saying what was really on your mind.

In truth you'd always had a "thing" for the big badass types, the "scary dogs", outcasts, loners, and Gho- Simon, you reminded yourself, ticked off all the boxes to pique your interest. He'd always given off just enough tidbits about himself, crumbs that you had devoured in the fire of your curiosity that only proved to stoke it into a further inferno. The date you'd gone on tonight? He was meant to be a distraction from the man you couldn't have had, shouldn't have been able to have, yet here he was gazing down into your very soul in your quarters.

"Glad? Glad for wha', luv?"

Simon had picked up on that thread you left dangling and you could hear the smirk in his voice as he pressed further. Both his body squeezing against you and his words pressing the opening he'd found.

"Glad y' got th' big, scary Ghost as y' own personal toy for th' night? Glad that you'll get to experience a real man in y' bed tonoight?"

Each word brought his face closer to yours and you watched as his hand slid from your cheek to his mask, pulling it down past his mouth and finally letting you see his face. Your mind went blank for a second as you took in his features for the brief moment he hovered in front of you before he buried his face in your neck to kiss the sensitive skin there.

The kiss was gentle, lips pressing to your jugular as your heart raced so fast you could swear he'd be able to feel your pulse through his lips. Even gentle as it was you couldn't stop the soft sound that escaped your own lips.

"Am I on the money, sweet'eart? You been 'oping I'd get jealous or somethin' like that?"

Teeth grazed against your neck and a jolt of pleasurable lightning raced down your spine.

"Well... between you an' me... I've been very jealous, luv. 'Ere I thought some young bloke was gonna steal you away from us, from me, before I got to show you 'ow I felt about you..."

As his lips and teeth continued to explore your neck his hand grabbed yours and brought it down to palm at his tented trousers, the size of him made you gasp involuntarily and you felt his low rumbling laughter deep in his chest.

"S-simon... I've never had someone so... so... big before."

"Don't worry, sweet'eart... I'll take my time and show you 'ow a true gentleman treats a lady like yourself."

Simon picked you up with ease, walking the few steps to the bed and setting you down on the edge. No sooner had your backside met the mattress he was hiking up that short black dress over your thighs to expose the matching black lace panties you had worn.

"You were plannin' on spoilin' that bloke tonight, weren't you, sweet'eart? Or, an' correct me if I'm wrong..."

His thick, calloused fingers pressed against your clothed slit, finding your nub and rubbing it through the scant cotton and lace as his eyes locked onto yours again.

"...Or were you 'opin' that 'e'd left you alone and that this exact scenario would 'appen, you comin' back to base wantin' me to 'elp you feel better?"

"F-fuck, Simon... I... ahh... that's n-not what I was hoping for at all..."

He rolled his eyes, not believing you, and slid the panties aside to slide one finger inside to entice a moan from you.

"Christ! Fine, yes, I.. I wanted my date to be you tonight... but how am I supposed to bring that up? Just walk up to you and say "hey, LT, how's about a shag tonight after supper?""

That earned you a second finger inside and another laugh.

"I knew y' were a brat at trainin' but damn am I glad you aren't a shrinkin' violet in the bedroom. Makes this more fun."

For what felt like an eternity he slowly widened you in preparation for his shaft. Simon was a patient man, for the most part, but those moans and sounds you were making for him and him alone were wearing down that patience. Still, he had promised to treat you like a proper lady and only when he could slide three fingers inside easily did he stop his work.

"Do us a favor and clean these off for me, luv. My mouth 'as more important things t' do."

Unceremoniously he slid his slickened fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself as he leaned down to bury his face between your legs. That tongue of his quickly found your nub and circled around it, alternating between that and his lips puckering around it to suck on it. The fingers in your mouth did nothing to muffle the noises he was coaxing from you as your thighs clamped down on either side of his head. Somewhere in the back of your mind you were cognizant of putting too much pressure on him but it was quickly drowned out by your building climax.

Simon felt it building in you as well; the way your thighs got tighter around his head, the throbbing of your nub in his mouth, and the quivering of your slit. In the mess of it all your hands had come down to grip his short hair, tugging on it as if trying to pull him closer.

"Tha's it, luv, cum for me."

Barely above the haze of lust you registered Simon's command as you felt yourself come undone for him. Your own slick mixing with his spit to coat your inner thighs as he lapped greedily at everything you had to give him. Eventually your orgasm began to subside and you took notice of him standing up from where he had knelt. The sound of leather on denim was barely audible above your panting, followed by a zipper being pulled down. Craning your head up off the mattress you finally saw his full length in the dim light of the room as he slowly rutted against your womanhood.

"I think y' should be ready for this, luv. But I wanna hear y' say it. Tell me 'ow badly y' need this inside..."

"I... fuck..."

Word were hard to come by in your lust filled haze, biting your lower lip in concentration you finally were able to articulate the words.

"Take me, Simon! I want every inch of that inside me now!"

"Needy, aren't ya? Don't worry, I got exactly wha' y' need roight... here..."

On that last syllable he slid his full length inside of you in one fluid stroke. You could swear he crashed up against the back of your womb with how big he was and before you could cry out he locked his lips onto yours, stifling any sound you made.

You two lay there connected, Simon not moving until you were used to him, for a few brief moments before he pulled away from the kiss to gaze into your eyes. You gave him a wordless nod to reassure him you were okay before he started his thrusting in earnest. Slow, full strokes to make sure you felt every inch of his desire for you.

"Been 'oping to 'ave y' like this for awhile now, sweet'eart.. sure when y' first started up 'ere I was skeptical..."

Your brain was barely paying attention to his words, still shrouded in a fog of lust. Simon, on the other hand, was talking to take his mind off the pleasure you were giving him so he could last longer than a few pumps.

"But after I saw y' toss Gaz an' Soap around in 'and t' 'and I thought maybe y' were alroight after all..."

Now even Simon was barely registering his own words as his thrusts started to pick up the pace, chasing his own orgasm as he felt your body tense under him while your second climax built up inside you.

His hands went from your hips to your own hands, lacing both your fingers together as he held your hands above your head and leaned down to kiss you again. There was a bit more force, a bit more need behind this one and with a low growl he slammed his hips against yours one more time, burying himself deep as he emptied into you. Your own climax hitting at the same time made it feel like your walls were milking him dry.

Both of you were spent after that; a sweaty mess of half clothed bodies that clung to each other tightly. He didn't want to pull out but he wanted to lay you on the bed proper, opting to slide himself out from between your legs and gingerly place you on the bed before laying down next to you. Once he was settled in beside you, your hands wrapped around him in a loose embrace as you rested your cheek on his chest, feeling the slow rise and fall from his breath.

A heavy arm draped over you, pulling you in tightly as you both lay there in the dark. Simon was the first to break the silence, kissing the top of your head.

"May not 'ave been a proper date, sweet'eart. But I promise we'll 'ave one eventually. Now get some sleep, I'll be 'ere in the mornin'."

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #reader insert #hurt/comfort #rebound #cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghost cod #ghost #look i just got broken up with recently and wanted some comfort fic so i made my own

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robfinancialtip · 3 months

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youtube

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🛡️ Discovering Safety with the Halo Collar In this video, John introduces the game-changing Halo Collar, an essential tool in their travels. This innovative collar creates a virtual GPS fence, ensuring that Wrigley stays safe and where he's supposed to be. No more concerns about him wandering off during their explorations.

🌈 Tailored Comfort and Pleasant Experiences The Halo Collar is designed with Wrigley's comfort in mind. Unlike traditional shock collars, it offers a gentle sequence of warning sounds, mild vibrations, and optional static feedback, providing a customized and pleasant experience for Wrigley during their adventures.

📲 Seamless Setup with the Halo App John takes you through the simple setup process using the Halo app. Within just 10 minutes, the entire system is up and running. The app allows flexibility in setting up virtual boundaries, making it convenient for John and Wrigley to explore new places while ensuring safety.

📋 Steps to Get Started: Download the Halo app from your favorite app store. Add user profile information. Allow Halo to use the location to view your dog's location data. Follow the app's user training to create your first Halo fence. Start your dog's pet training by fitting the collar strap properly.

🌟 Cool Features and Benefits Explore the cool features of the Halo Collar, including its effectiveness in tight spaces as small as .02 acres. It's a handy tool during their drives to new locations, giving Wrigley a small patch to explore during stops along the route.

👉 Share Your Thoughts! What are your thoughts on the Halo Collar? Share your opinions in the comments below! If you found this information helpful, give the video a thumbs up and always prioritize the safety of your furry companions. Thanks for joining John Max and Wrigley on this incredible journey! 🚀🐕 #HaloCollar #PetSafety #AdventureTogether #DogLovers #TravelSafety 🐾💙

🐶UNRIVALED FEATURES!🐶 CHECK OUT THE GAME-CHANGING FEATS OF THE NEW HALO COLLAR 3:

✅ New PrecisionGPS(™) Technology ✅ New Active GPS Antenna ✅ 24-hour Battery Life ✅ Auto-connect to Any Cellular Network Worldwide ✅ New Perfect Fit System ✅ Magnetic Charging Port ✅ New Colors: Orchid and Sunburst

BONUS Halo Collar 3 is available in 4 vibrant colors: ✅GRAY ✅BLACK ✅ORCHID🆕 ✅SUNBURST🆕

#Youtube

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darklovecat · 1 year

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Beauty tips?

Taking my vitamins and beauty supplements every day!

I believe that beauty and health go hand in hand so I got a complete blood work-up to figure out what vitamins and minerals my body was lacking, and I make sure I'm taking my them daily. On top of that, I take various supplements such as Collagen, Fish oil etc but I swear by my 10-gram daily collagen regimen. I take its powdered form right before going to bed and have noticed its benefits within a short time - My knees used to sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies when I bent down, but after a few days of collagen, the crepitus is gone. Plus, my hair is growing faster and my skin is looking plumper. It's done wonders for my joints, giving me a healthy glow, and making me look way more refreshed.

Having perfect posture at all times!

I think this is a very simple but overlooked beauty tip that truly elevates your appearance. It's like the secret weapon of beauty, it can transform not just the way you look, but also the way you feel. When you stand tall and hold yourself with grace and poise, you radiate confidence and elegance. Good posture also has numerous health benefits. It can help prevent back pain, improve your breathing, and even boost your mood and energy levels. Ever since I've started incorporating Pilates and Ballet into my routine to build strength and flexibility, my posture has improved greatly. The way you carry yourself says a lot about who you are and by standing tall and confident, you'll not only look beautiful but also feel empowered and ready to conquer the world.

Getting 6 hours of quality sleep every night!

You know what's a major beauty tip that most people sleep on? Sleep!! Forget about slapping on expensive creams and doing a gazillion steps in your skincare routine. You gotta start with the basics, hun. Get your sleep game on point, eat right, and manage your stress. Now, I know we all have different needs when it comes to sleep, so I won't give you a specific number. But trust me, beauty sleep is not a myth, it's legit! I turn on Night Mode on my devices at 6:30, pop my sleeping pills at 9:30, and hit the hay an hour later. Oh, and I'm not afraid to take a nap during the day if I need to. Don't underestimate the power of a good night's sleep. It's the secret to looking and feeling amazing.

Growing out my eyelashes!

I take pride in my long and voluminous lashes, they're one of my best features and one of my most complimented features. However, my natural lashes were not always this way, they became longer through regular lash serum usage. I do not really need wear mascara and after a lash lift, my lashes appear as if I'm wearing extensions. While Latisse has worked wonders for me, it's important to note that the product does come with potential side effects such as orbital fat loss and irritation. Thankfully, I did not experience any adverse effects. Another caveat is that the product only works as long as it is used consistently. Despite these considerations, I wholeheartedly recommend Latisse. To see the results for yourself, check out the Real Woman Gallery.

Cat.

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optimal-living-lab · 2 months

Text

Strength Training for Beginners: A Comprehensive Guide

Strength training is an essential component of overall fitness, providing numerous benefits such as increased muscle mass, improved bone density, and enhanced metabolism. If you're new to strength training, getting started can feel overwhelming, but with the right guidance, it can be both enjoyable and rewarding. This comprehensive guide will walk you through the basics of strength training for beginners.

Understanding Strength Training

Strength training, also known as resistance training, involves exercises that use resistance to build muscle strength, endurance, and size. This resistance can come from various sources, including free weights, weight machines, resistance bands, or even your body weight.

Benefits of Strength Training

Increased Muscle Strength: Strength training helps to build and strengthen muscles, making everyday activities easier and reducing the risk of injury.

Improved Bone Health: It stimulates bone growth and can help prevent osteoporosis, especially important as we age.

Boosted Metabolism: Muscle is more metabolically active than fat, so building muscle through strength training can help increase your resting metabolic rate, aiding in weight management.

Enhanced Functional Strength: It improves your ability to perform daily tasks, such as lifting, carrying, and bending.

Getting Started

1. Consult a Professional

Before starting any new exercise program, especially if you have any health concerns, it's wise to consult with a healthcare professional or a certified personal trainer. They can help tailor a program to your specific needs and ensure you exercise safely.

2. Set Clear Goals

Identify what you want to achieve through strength training. Whether it's gaining muscle, losing weight, or improving overall fitness, having clear goals will guide your training program.

3. Start with Basic Exercises

Begin with compound exercises that work multiple muscle groups simultaneously. These include:

Squats: Targets the legs, glutes, and core.

Deadlifts: Works the back, glutes, and hamstrings.

Push-ups: Engages the chest, shoulders, and triceps.

Rows: Targets the back, biceps, and shoulders.

4. Learn Proper Technique

Focus on mastering proper form and technique for each exercise to prevent injury and maximize results. If you're unsure, consider working with a personal trainer initially to learn the correct form.

5. Gradually Increase Intensity

Start with lighter weights and gradually increase the resistance as you get stronger. Aim for 2-3 strength training sessions per week, allowing at least 48 hours of rest between sessions to allow your muscles to recover and grow.

6. Incorporate Variety

Include a variety of exercises in your routine to target different muscle groups and keep your workouts interesting. This can include different types of resistance exercises, as well as cardio and flexibility training.

Tips for Success

Listen to Your Body: Pay attention to how your body feels during and after workouts. If something doesn't feel right, stop and reassess your form or consult a professional.

Stay Consistent: Consistency is key to seeing results. Stick to your strength training program and make it a regular part of your routine.

Rest and Recovery: Allow your muscles time to recover between sessions to prevent overtraining and reduce the risk of injury.

Fuel Your Body: Eat a balanced diet rich in protein, carbohydrates, and healthy fats to support muscle growth and recovery.

Conclusion

Strength training is a valuable addition to any fitness regimen, offering a multitude of physical and mental benefits. By following this guide and staying committed to your goals, you can build strength, improve your overall health, and enhance your quality of life. Remember, progress takes time, so be patient and enjoy the journey to a stronger, healthier you!

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arvandus · 11 months

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literally how can u be in ur 30s with kids and STILL write x reader shit abt children???

I'm cracking up because I feel like as a writer here on Tumblr, I've finally "arrived." I've "made it" so to speak. I managed to be left alone for literally years, here in my corner just doin' my thing while you and/or others like you went around harassing other writers over things that have zero bearing or impact on the real world and the problems in it.

Normally, I would block and delete this cowardly anonymous ask, but I'm feeling charitable this fine morning on three hours of sleep, so I will gladly go into a discussion about this.

I hope you're prepared, anon. I have a lot to say about this subject since I've thought about this before back in the 2020 days of Tumblr.

First thing's first, I'm curious what spurred this...? Most of my writings DO focus on "adult" characters (Dabi, Chisaki, Nighteye, Aizawa, Gojo...). I've written for the "younger" characters a handful of times, usually small romance bits that others have requested or that I felt inspired to write because I felt it would make a good story. However, that's neither here nor there, since I have no problem writing the "younger" characters as aged-up adults engaging in adult situations and experiences (and yes that includes *gasp* sex!).

Why all the quotations around "adult" and "younger" you might ask? Because the simple fact is this: it's all fictional. None of these characters are real. So, in that sense, their age (physical, mental, emotional) is flexible, particularly when it comes to creative/artistic interpretations that expand beyond canon (friendly reminder, ALL fanmade material deviates from canon no matter how well drawn or how well written).

This means I'm able to look at a character and age them up in my mind utilizing my imagination. Why would I even want to do that in the first place, you might ask? If I'm willing to "age them up" then it means I'm attracted to them as they are portrayed in canon first, as teenagers, correct? Wrong. First off, if I were attracted to them as teenagers, then I would WRITE them as teenagers. See how I'm not doing that? Let's use Bakugou as my example for this. When I think of writing Bakugou, I'm not writing 15 year old Bakugou who's constantly loud and shouting at everyone aggressively to the point of comedic relief. I'm writing a 20- or 30-something Bakugou, who's still got that undercurrent of aggression, but he's learned to temper it over time; I'm writing a Bakugou who's been forced to grow up a bit through having failures, and or dealing with the loneliness of his single-mindedness around being "the best."

What I AM attracted to is the character "type." This includes their design (i.e., how they look), their personality/archetype (e.g., cocky asshole, aggressive pomeranian, aloof silent type), and their backstory/circumstance (e.g., daddy issues, self-esteem issues, past traumas, etc.). I'm basically borrowing all of these things when I write a character into my own fanon universes.

There's this little not-so-secret 'secret' within the fanfiction community: the canon version of a character and a fanon version of the character are NOT the same character. They look nearly identical (i.e., same appearance but aged up, so broader shoulders, taller, etc.); they share the same backstory/experiences (i.e., what makes them who they are); and similar mannerisms. We like to PRETEND they're the same, but in reality they're not. The character stops being a canon version of himself when I, a writer, get my hands on him. He's no longer a teenager when I write him; he's an adult, and he has new experiences that have transformed him into a new characterization that I'm utilizing for my own benefit. The canon still exists of course, but my rendition is a little bit removed from that just by the nature of creative license.

That is what, I as the writer, am attracted to. I'm attracted to that character "template" and the personal modifications I've made to it. It allows me to play with character concepts in way that I'm comfortable, including changing a canonically teenage character to an adult so that it aligns with my personal morals and comfort levels.

So for me, I have no interest in writing NSFW stuff/adult themes for characters as teenagers because I'm not attracted to teenagers. I've written some soft romance short stories (e.g., my very first BNHA fic was a prom-night first kiss with Kirishima) because it makes for a good romance story; and quite frankly, there's nothing wrong with writing that. Love is something you can write about no matter the age; writing about teenagers finding love does not equal perversion/pedophilia; and if you think it does, then never read a YA book again, since those are, well, all written by adults (you're welcome).

What I DO have interest in is exploring characters in non-canon situations. What would Pro Hero Bakugou be like? How would he approach a villain that he's attracted to? Or how would he handle almost losing someone he fell in love with that he was supposed to protect on his watch? And yes, that includes exploring sexual themes as well, such as what kind of a lover would he be like? What kind of kinks would a character of his archetype and backstory enjoy?

"But why utilize canonically under-age characters?" you might ask. "Why not use one of the canonically adult characters to explore these things?" And the answer is likely because maybe that character archetype that I'm drawn too for this particular idea/story isn't available in an adult form within the canon story. Stories that have a large cast, and particularly a large number of adolescent characters, have a wide variety of character archetypes to choose from that may not be as available with the adult characters. In short, it's because that particular character type fits that particular creative idea/thought. It's all about imagination and play.

So, long story short, if you have difficulty with extending your imagination beyond canon, then please, by all means, don't read or write aged-up fics because you won't be able to suspend your disbelief, and all it's going to do is gross you out. That's a you problem, not a me problem. I have no moral concerns with myself at all. I know for for a fact I have no romantic or sexual interest in teenagers either in fiction (thus why I age up) or in real life when they cross my path.

The TL;DR: You can "age-up"/imagine a canonically teenage character as an adult simply because the character is just that - a character. It's not real. You're taking an archetype, a template, and you're modifying it so you can use it to tell your own stories, stories which are important to the creator for a variety of reasons - sometimes the writing is therapeutic to process/explore sexuality and/or trauma; sometimes the writing is simply because it's fun, because we enjoy the stories we imagine and we want to share them. There is a refreshing flexibility and freedom in it that allows us creative folk to modify and play to our liking without having to create characters and worlds from scratch.

This is NOT the same as someone looking at a real-life teenager and "imagining" them as an adult or thinking they are sexually available because "they're so mature" or "they'll turn 18 soon" and treating them inappropriately for their own personal gain. Real grooming, real pedophilia, impacts a real, flesh and blood person. That person will STILL be a teenager, despite what an actual groomer might like to think or pretend. No amount of sugar coating or grooming talk will change that fact, and it will be the teenager that gets hurt.

#arvandus answers #anon #tw discourse #I hope you enjoy this can of worms anon #You better read all of this. Every word. And then think on it for a good while before coming back into my inbox.

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frosty-mage · 7 months

Text

YGO OC Week Day 1: Introduction!

Hi all! This is my favorite YGO blorbo, Penelope Smith! She's designed for the VRAINS setting, though there are a few instances where she gets thrown in other settings for fun.

More info on her below the break! (Also, all of the art here is commissioned; credit is in the alt-text.)

Appearance

Penelope Smith is young woman with mostly-straight light brown hair that falls to her upper back, who stands around 5'8" in height. She can often be seen in the Den City High uniform, coupled with a pink, heart-shaped hairpin above her left eye. In addition to the uniform, she often wears white leggings that go to the lower part of her thigh. She has green eyes and almost always has a cheery expression.

She also has a VRAINS avatar, Transcendence, but details of that will come at a later day!

Personality

Penelope is helpful and excitable to a fault. She will always do her best to help out others, often to her own detriment in terms of time commitment. As a result, she is often pulled in many directions to the point of tiring herself out, but she manages to keep up a cheery demeanor all the time. Any stress that she does encounter gets bottled up, lest she show signs of weakness or cracks in her personality to others.

Her outlook could be described as "pragmatically optimistic". She is always hopeful that things will work out, but she believes things will get better because she (and others) will make them better.

If she were asked why she has that worldview and demeanor, she'd say that she wants to be the person she needed a few years ago. She needed positivity, so she brings it. She needed hope and a friend, so she brings it. She needed honesty and security, so she brings it.

Of course, the drawback to wanting to be so friendly, open, and generous is that she can often be extremely naive and manipulable. She often forgets that people can lie and is very easy to take advantage of; she often gives the benefit of the doubt to others when she really shouldn't.

Her name, Penelope, was chosen because she was reforging herself. She kept her prior last name. (Out of character, that was chosen because she's a machine user.)

Biography

Penelope was born [REDACTED] to loving parents. She partook in many standard activities for her age, and her father helped to instill in her a love of robotics. He also taught her how to play Duel Monsters.

However, when she transitioned near the start of puberty, she was the subject of much bullying, and many of her friends turned on her. Conveniently, around the same time, her family had to move away, so she never really got to have closure on her former friends would have treated her; her new classmates only knew her as Penelope.

She spent the next several years of her life in Den City, continuing her research and schooling. She remained near the top of her class academically.

During the events of VRAINS, she wanted to help, but didn't know how, and was risk-averse enough to avoid being caught in the crossfire of many of the incidents.

Deck

Penelope uses a Crystron deck. The cards allow her to adapt to the situation as needed, keeping herself flexible, while also being defensive.

She has a deep appreciation for Crystron Citree and sees it as a parallel to herself; she likes to find people who are in their darkest hour and drag them out to become something better than they ever were.

(There are also other canons of her which have used other decks, including Machina, Geargia, and the custom archetype of Reclamatron, but they aren't relevant here.)

@ygoc-week

#ygo #vrains oc #penelope #yugioh oc week 23 #my ocs

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seancosy · 10 months

Note

I saw ur post in the solarpunk tag and! I think we can do better! I think nobody should have to work ever, because how do we pick who's exempt? who's making that decision? the only way I can think for it to be fair is if the person themself gets to make that decision.

bc like the system you're describing isn't hypothetical and as someone who's gone through a nightmare of uncaring bureaucracy just to be allowed not to work due to disability I can say it doesn't work and definitely doesn't feel like a utopia!

I don't follow you and not gonna come back to this so do with it what you want but yeah something to consider I guess

Points I agree with:

People should have the ability to self-determine their capacity to work, and should not be expected to work if they are unable to.

External parties should not be deciding who is able or unable to work.

Points I disagree with:

"Nobody should have to work ever"

I may be misunderstanding you, but... life is work. Someone needs to drive trains, design functional sewerage systems, deliver babies, rescue people from burning buildings, grow rice, implement grain shipping logistics, change diapers, develop vaccines, wash clothes, teach children to read, sterilise surgical equipment, provide counselling to antisocial or dangerous people, cook food for the elderly, insert urinary catheters, repair potholes in roads, pick up rubbish, code the software that checks pressure in dam walls, etc.

None of the above jobs are particularly sexy. Very few people would dream of performing any of these roles when they are growing up. But the work is necessary to maintain a functional society. What links these jobs is that they are meaningful. They help. They improve society. People can find purpose and fulfillment in these tasks because they know they are helping society, even if indirectly.

There are so many jobs in our current society that do not provide a benefit to anyone other than a select few capitalists. If we restructured to become more 'solarpunk' (which I interpret as more communist and likely more anarchist than current societies), these capitalist jobs wouldn't exist, and we wouldn't miss them. Merchant bankers, advertising executives, influencers, soldiers, funko-pop factory workers (I have a personal dislike for these products; such an overt waste of materials and for literally no benefit! people often don't even take them out of their packets?!?!), mortgage brokers, the list goes on.

If we redirected the people working in these capitalist jobs towards roles that directly help society.... everyone would work a lot less, but society would function just as effectively, if not more so. There would be fewer jobs, and more people to do them. There would be more chance to rest and enjoy leisure time. And yes, some people would probably be able to never work at all, if they chose to. But if the work is meaningful, I genuinely believe most people would want to work, and I don't think it's unreasonable to expect people to do something meaningful for others even for just a few hours a week (clean the dishes at the cafeteria or babysit your friend's kids). But no, I don't think people's work contributions should be monitored or quantified at all, unless it's to tell people to rest when they are overworked. People should work of their own volition. And of course those with disabilities or any other factors that prevent them from working safely shouldn't need to work if they are unable or unwilling.

An interesting book that portrays a world that is anarcho-communist is The Dispossessed, by Ursula K LeGuin. It details the struggle between the need for work VS personal freedom exceptionally well.

(Original post linked below)

#ask #anon #solarpunk #work #communism

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cluelessatthispoint · 1 year

Note

yandere emesis blu demo and soldier sharing (or fighting) over a new recruit,?

Emesis Blue is the best sfm ever! This is my first Emesis Blue ask and I am so very happy! I am crying tears of joy right now.

instead of fighting or sharing the new recruit, how about both? ;)

Warnings: some blood, mild gore, nothing bad happens.

~~~~~~~~

This was not what you were expecting when you signed up to be a part of the Mann Co cleaning crew. The job offered a decent pay with good benefits and a flexible schedule. But the commute was hell. It took you a good two and a half hours to get to the site and as far as you could see, there was no visible damage to the structure itself. Formerly the RED base; now the Conager Slaughterhouse.

The black clouds above you seemed to groan with the heavy weight of oncoming rain. The clouds were dark and ominous, the smell of moisture in the air and whatever resided in the slaughterhouse sewer mixed together in an abhorrent stink.

Looking to the side of the car, then to the other side you opened the car door and stepped out onto the gravely landscape. It was odd, you were the only one here. Pulling out the crumpled letter in your pocket containing the name and address of the place you furrowed your brow.

"This, this is the place."

Folding the paper back up and sliding it back into your pocket you took a step forward. Looking around at the building you could tell that is hasn't acted as a slaughterhouse for a long, long time. Shuddering involuntarily, you make your way towards the old wooden bridge. Eyeing your car one last time you waled closer to the front doors. Two identical doors on the same side of the wall were strange, but hey, you figured that each building has its own eccentricities. Making your way inside and stepping over the singular large stepping the doorway you were hit with the strong smell of iron and something rotting.

"Hello? I'm here with the Mann Co cleaning department! There are supposed to be more people here and I-"

A strong hand covered your mouth before you could even finish your sentence. Breathing hysterically through your nose you pulled desperately against the hand covering your mouth.

"Hush now, we gotta stay quiet or else you end up dead."

Not daring to move a muscle you gave a small hum of fear and confusion.

"Now then, I'm gonnae remove me hand and when I do: DONT make a sound, okay?"

Nodding tearfully, you could feel the larger man remove his hand. Turning around to face him you took notice of two things. One: This man was the supposed missing Demoman from the RED team. And two: His other arm was ripped clean out of its socket. You didn't know which observation made you more scared.

Hearing footsteps from behind you whipped your head around and came face to chest with another large man. From the looks of it, and his helmet he appeared to be a Soldier.

"Listen here kid, if you go back out there after making all that racket, you'll get shot. Now, you are going to see things, but if we stick together and IF you follow my orders to a T, we'll be okay."

Swallowing the lump in your throat you forced your head to give a nod of understanding.

"There will be no one else arriving at this location, you are the only member of the cleaning crew to make it here. So, if you want to survive then we will be treating you like a new recruit. Understand?"

Giving another curt nod the Soldier led you around the corner and deeper into the base. The sounds of the floorboards creaking and shifting above you made you flinch.

Eyeing the way that Soldier led you further into the base made his blood boil. He and Soldier worked hard to ensure that you would come here by yourself. Why is he the one who gets to lead you? Locking eyes with Soldier the same thought flashed into their minds; Their ours now. Letting go of his annoyance he allowed a small smile to rest on his lips. With the Connagers dead, and your crew MIA, you were all theirs. You wouldn't even know that even right now there was nothing to be afraid of. Everything was dead. And just for you, they could keep up the charade. In time you would come to rely on them completely. After all, isn't that what love is?

~~~~~

Creepy, creepy and creepy.

I wish I had more yandere Emesis Blue asks.