#Custom Content Policy

[ag--arts]

I can't vote in the upcoming election so you you guys better get your shit together

as horrified as i am that trump is still alive i’m even more horrified by the oncoming victim complex the right is going to develop over this. for the love of god i need all my fellow usamericans to vote in november, there is no overstating the damage another trump presidency could do

[pooklet]

A quick-ish guide to the culture of The Sims 2 modding community.

Are you new to The Sims 2 community? Are you coming from more modern games, either in The Sims franchise itself or other contemporary games? Are you excited to start your #brand and become a #simfluencer and post your #earlyaccesscontent to support your #sidehustle?

Have a seat, then! Let's chat.

Hello, friend! My name's Pooklet. I've been playing since 2004 and creating since 2007. I'm by no means an expert in most forms of content creation itself, but I've been around since the heyday of The Sims 2, I've watched how community opinions have shifted (or not) since practically the beginning, and I'm hoping to give you a basic outline of the community culture that you can expect to encounter as a newcomer.

A very brief history of Sims 2 content monetization:

People have been trying to monetize content since there has been content to monetize, all the way back in the days of The Sims 1. We tend to call them "pay creators" and their websites "paysites." Some big names in this arena include The Sims Resource (their free-with-ads model is a relatively recent development, which is why you will find people to this day calling them T$R), PeggySims, Newsea, and many others that you can find on this handy website:

Paysites Must Be Destroyed

Now, if you have a glance at that website, you might be saying to yourself:

"But, that's illegal! I own the copyright to my custom content!"

Alas, no! Due to the wording of the End User License Agreement for The Sims 2, no custom content creator owns their creations for this game (or The Sims 1, or 3, or 4, for that matter, but we're talking about 2 right now). It all belongs to EA at the end of the day, and by installing and playing the game, you have agreed to these terms. Which means you have no individual, protected copyright, and it is perfectly legal for someone to download your paywalled content and then reupload it for free for others to enjoy. And they will!

Furthermore,

You are not making anything alone.

Everything from modding resources, to tutorials, to the mods required to fix disastrous glitches in the game code and make it playable at all, to the third party programs used to make any and all custom content, such as SimPE—all of these have been provided to you for free by other creators, many of whom have a usage policy that asks that people not use their freely-provided tools to make a profit. Although no one can be forced to follow a creator's policy, it is generally considered good manners to not try to make a profit off of someone else's free work. And if you are using these tools to make paywalled content, that's exactly what you're doing.

Pay creators have been ignoring these policies since the beginning of time, and so free creators likewise ignore their policies against sharing their paywalled content. Pay creators have also tried lots of different ways to keep their content exclusive, everything from trying to track leaks with slightly altered files to actively filling their content with malicious code. It has never worked.

Free creators have always found a way around these barriers. In fact, it's taken as something of a challenge to undermine monetization efforts. As you can see from Paysites Must Be Destroyed, there are entire teams of players devoted to reuploading paywalled content for free.

A culture of sharing.

The Sims 2 is something of a time capsule. At 20 years old, it predates a lot of the hyper-capitalist hustle culture that has infested every creative hobby. It is from a time when monetization was an outlier rather than the norm, and a much maligned outlier at that. This attitude has persisted for 20 years. Believe me when I say, you won't be the combo breaker. Especially now, given that The Sims 2 is not the most contemporary in the series and the community has shrunk considerably, down to the people who have either been here for a very long time, or newcomers that understand the community culture.

Also, it's just kind of not a great idea in general to try to make money off of a 20-year-old game with a pretty small community?

Like, I get that The Sims 4 is really saturated with pay creators and it's hard to get a foot in the door. I get that you might look at The Sims 2 and think that the small pond will give you room to be a big fish. It won't. You might get a handful of people willing to pay for your content, but at least one of those people will be resharing it for free.

Paywalls vs. optional donations.

Okay, so hopefully you now understand why people don't like it when you put content behind a paywall. But what about those Ko-fi and Paypal donation links you sometimes see at the bottom of people's downloads? Why is that okay, but a locked Patreon tier isn't? Well, because they're voluntary. No one is obligated to pay for that content to be able to download and use it. It's just a way for someone who does have a little extra cash to basically "tip" a creator whose content they like. You have no way of knowing whether the person who posts those links is actually receiving any donations. And that's kind of the point. Whether or not they receive any donations, they are still sharing their content, because they enjoy the hobby of making and sharing content.

"I can't make a living off of that!"

No, you can't. Because that's not what we do here. That is not part of our community culture for all the above reasons. If you want to make a reliable income off of your hobby, you're going to need to get a different hobby. Try Second Life! That is a community that actively encourages monetization. The Sims 4 allows for "early access" monetization. There's options out there for you, if what you want is to make a profit off of your creations for a game.

"Fine, what about monetized link forwarding services?"

Link forwarding services historically have malicious trackers or viruses embedded. People will also strip those and provide direct links to each other. Or they just won't download your content.

"What if I want to make YouTube videos of someone else's written tutorials and I enable ad revenue on them?"

Personally, I still think that's a dick move. I love video tutorials, I'm a very visual learner myself, and although you might feel entitled to compensation for reciting the steps of someone else's tutorial into a microphone and then editing and uploading the video, you're still monetizing someone else's freely-provided content. I would consider this an 'ask permission' scenario, one in which you tell the person, explicitly, that you will be making ad revenue off their work. If they're fine with that, then you're good! (For the record, I'm not fine with that.)

edit: more of of my thoughts on monetized youtube videos over here.

"What if—"

Look, no one can stop you from trying to monetize your content, or worse, someone else's content. But you will have the exact same arc as every pay creator who came before you: your efforts will be undermined at every turn, your reception in the greater community will be chilly at best, and it will become a battle between you and the folks resharing free reuploads of your content until any fun you initially had making content is gone.

"The steady erosion of every known social safety net beneath the crippling weight of end-stage, line-goes-up capitalism and the yawning abyss of poverty over which I am dangling has imbued me with such anxiety that I cannot engage with a hobby that precludes monetization. I am exhausted. I know no other way."

I get it, friend! I have lived in poverty all my life. I do not begrudge the impulse to find a way to make passive income off of your every waking moment. Increasingly, it seems like that is the only way to survive! Unfortunately, you will not be able to do that with this specific community. We know that we have something special here, having resisted monetization's encroach for so long, which makes us fight all the more viciously to maintain it. You are entitled to try to find ways to supplement your income, just not here. Personally, I consider that a feature, not a bug.

Bonus Round: Remember, That's Not Just Yours!

I said it earlier, but I want to reiterate: you are not making any TS2 CC alone. You are making it with tools, resources, knowledge and code that people have provided on the condition that they not be used for pay content.

To use myself as an example, "my" hair textures are a blend of resources provided by other creators. Namely, Nouk's original hair texture was edited by Vintage D, which I then further edited over the years, using parts by the creators Ephemera and Helga. It would be extremely shit of me to say "well, I think that the time that I put into my edit is worth money, so I'm charging for it" when the edits that I made would not exist without the work of those people. And it continues on down the line with edits that other people have made of my texture blends and color actions, and the content they make with them.

(If you see someone charging for these, btw, lemme know. I'd love to have a talk with them.)

In closing,

The knowledge base, the resources, the coding required to make any and all working content for The Sims 2 has been compiled for 20 years. Please understand, I'm not trying to denigrate anyone's creativity when I say: you cannot bring anything wholly "new" to TS2 CC-making, something that uses no one else's resources or programs, something you can point to and say "no one helped me with that. I did it all on my own. It is my property." Nor should you aspire to! The fun of The Sims 2 community is to share and share alike, to credit each other for our contributions, to hype each other up and iterate on shared works and resources. We've been doing it for 20 years, and hopefully we'll be doing it for many more! Wanting to be a #simfluencer is utterly antithetical to the community culture. No one is influencing anyone else. You need to leave that shit at the door if you want to be invited in.

TL;DR:

Don't show up to the commie circle-jerk trying to charge for handjobs. We're already giving them to each other for free, and nothing about your wrist technique is special enough to justify the cost.

edit: a follow-up for those who are feeling personally attacked by this post.

[simkhira]

New Year, New Save File ✨

Simkhira’s Small Town Save File is inspired by my little hometown in Southeast, USA. For this save, I wanted to create a world that caters to all of my favorite gameplay styles (country core, university core, legacy core, etc.) in a nostalgic way that made sense to me. Over the past couple of months, I have been able to transform Willow Creek into something that I am really proud of. I hope you all enjoy the lots, the backstories, and the small town political lore just as much as I do.

Please continue reading for more details and download information:

What’s Included in Version 1:

Willow Creek

21 Lots (5 Community Lots / 16 Move-In Ready Residential Lots)

17 Households (50 Sims / 64 including animals)

All of the Sims have relevant careers, skills, lifestyles, public reputations, likes and dislikes, gender preferences, romance preferences, turn ons and turn offs, relationship dynamics, defined walkstyles, and defined voices.

Disclaimer: I own all of the EP's, GP's, SP's, and Kits.

Custom Content (Included):

This save file contains 1GB worth of custom content. I have included these files in the download to save any hassle. If the game opens and says you are missing content, no you are not. I have play-tested this save file using only the files included and did not find any issues.

Required Mods (Included):

More Selectable Icons Mod by @zerbu

Willow Creek Clickable Mod by @awingedllama

Working Elevators Everywhere Mod by @littlemssam 

21 Calendar Days Instead of 28 Mod by @littlemssam 

The calendar mod allows the game to have 12 weeks in a “year”. So, each week is a “month” (i.e. Week 1 = January, Week 2 = February, etc.). The calendar holidays have been created according to this method. Recommended Mods (Not Included):

707 Nature Replacement Mod by KHippie

Grannies Cookbook Mod by Littlebowbub  Disclaimer: The restaurant in Crawdad Quarter will still function without it - however, I have included some menu items from Grannies Cookbook.

Sim Spawn Overhaul Mod by Lotharihoe

NAP Policy Overhaul Mod by Kuttoe

How to Install Save Files:

Make a backup of your “Electronic Arts/The Sims 4/Saves” folder.

Download the file, unzip, and place the file in your “Electronic Arts/The Sims 4/Saves” folder.

If you already have a file with the same name, change the slot number to a number that you don’t have. (i.e. change Slot_00000000d.save to Slot_00000009d.save)

Once you open your game, you will see “Simkhira’s Small Town Save V1”. Open it!

Once opened, “Save As” to create a copy of the save file for your own gameplay.

If the game says that you are missing custom content, no you aren’t. I have double-checked.

Lastly, enjoy and have fun!

Inspiration: 

I want to say thank you to all of the amazing save file creators who inspired me throughout this process. Some of my favorites include (but are not limited to) @folkling, @wolfxdreamersims, @coolpuppy12, @florwal, @awingedllama, and more. 

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Download (Google Drive)

[cozykhuwa]

Sister Pack: Part II by northern siberia winds [lips conversions 4t3]

🍰 latte lips

♡ polycount: texture so non existent polycount ♡ categories: lips ♡ custom thumbnail: yes ♡ recolorable: yes (2 channels) ♡ age groups: young adult female, adult female

🍰 lip color n1

♡ polycount: texture so non existent polycount ♡ categories: lips ♡ custom thumbnail: yes ♡ recolorable: yes (1 channel) ♡ age groups: young adult female, adult female

🍰 lip liner n2

♡ polycount: texture so non existent polycount ♡ categories: lips ♡ custom thumbnail: yes ♡ recolorable: yes (1 channel) ♡ age groups: young adult female, adult female

♡ I am not the original creator, I just converted the cc

♡ These may look slightly different from the original sims 4 ones since sims 3 and 4 features aren't the same (obv)

♡ Ensure to always read my TOU

♡ Credit has been given to the relevant users/softwares

💋latte lips

💋lip color n1

💋lip liner n2

🍰Patreon (alt) (FREE)

Feel free to tag me if you use these in your game, I'd love to see it! And if there is any problems don't hesitate to contact me <3

♡ @northernsiberiawinds for your beautiful work <3

♡ Blender 2.76, Photoshop 2021

Wanna buy me a coffee ☕ or even a slice of cake 🍰, feel free to donate via my ko-fi.

My Ko-Fi Page 🎀

Or sub to my Patreon!

💌 Thank you to everyone who is reblogging and supporting my content! Y'all are greatly appreciated!

♡ PERSONAL USE ONLY: My original cc & overrides are free for personal use in you Sims 3 game. DO NOT redistribute or claim as your own.

♡ CREDIT OF USAGE: If you share my cc in any way, please credit me.

♡ NO PAYWALLS: DO NOT put my cc behind any paywalls or adlinks such as linkvertise.

♡ REDISTRIBUTION POLICY: DO NOT reupload my cc on other sites. Please share my original download links to respect work put into my cc and spread the word.

♡ MODIFICATIONS: If you edit or recolour my cc, and want to share it, please give full credit where it's due.

[bisexualbaker]

Why do people keep recommending Dreamwidth as a Tumblr alternative, when Dreamwidth and Tumblr are so different?

To be flat-out honest, it's because Dreamwidth has so many things that Tumblr users say they want, even if it's also lacking a lot of features that Tumblr users have come to love:

Dreamwidth has incredibly lax content hosting rules. I'd say that it's slightly more restrictive than AO3, but only just slightly, and only because AO3's abuse team has been so overwhelmed and over-worked. Otherwise, the hosting policies are pretty similar. You want to go nuts, show nuts? You can do that on Dreamwidth.

In fact, Dreamwidth is so serious about "go nuts, show nuts", it gave up the ability to accept transactions through PayPal in 2009 to protect our ability to do that. (It's also one reason why Dreamwidth doesn't have an app: Dreamwidth will never be beholden to Apple's content rules this way.)

Dreamwidth cares about your privacy; it doesn't sell your data, and barely collects any to begin with. As far as I'm aware, it only collects what it needs to run the site. The owners have also spoken out on behalf of internet privacy many times, and are prepared to put their money where their mouth is.

No ads. Ever. Period. They mean it. Dreamwidth is entirely user funded.

Posts viewed in reverse chronological order; no algorithm, opt-in or otherwise. No algorithm at all. No "For You" or "Suggested" page. You still entirely create and curate your own experience.

The ability to make posts that only your "mutuals", or even only a specific subset of your "mutuals", can see. Want to make a post that's only open to Bonnie, Clyde, Butch, and Cassidy? You can do that! Want to make a post that's only open to Bonnie and Butch, but Clyde and Cassidy can't see shit? You can do that, too!

The owners have forsworn NFTs and the blockchain in general. Not as big a worry now as it was even a year ago, but still good to know!

We are explicitly the customers of Dreamwidth. Dreamwidth wants to make us happy, so any changes they make (and they do make changes) are made with us in mind, and after exploring as many possibilities as they can.

Dreamwidth is very transparent about their policies and changes. If you want to know why they're making a specific change, or keeping or getting rid of a feature, they will tell you. You don't have to find out ten months later that they're locked into a contract to keep it for a year (cough cough Tumblr Live cough cough).

So those are some things that Tumblr users would probably love about Dreamwidth.

Another reason Dreamwidth keeps being recommended is that a significant portion of the Age 30+ crowd spent a lot of earlier fandom years on a site known as LiveJournal. Dreamwidth may not be much like Tumblr, but it it started out as a code fork of LiveJournal, so it will be very familiar to anyone who spent any time there. Except better.

Finally, we're recommending Dreamwidth because some of the things that Tumblr users want are just... not going to happen on the web as it is now. Image hosting is the big one for this. Maybe in the future, the price of data will be much cheaper, and Dreamwidth will be able to host as much as we all want for a pittance that a fraction of the userbase will happily pay for everyone, but right now that's just not possible.

Everywhere you want to go that hosts a lot of images will either be running lots of ads, selling your data, or both.

Dreamwidth knows how much it costs to host your data, and has budgeted for that. They are hosting within their means, within our means.

Dreamwidth is the closest thing we may ever get to AO3 as a social media platform. One of the co-owners is from, and still in, fandom; she knows our values, because they are also her values. It may as well be the Blogsite Of Our Own.

[ariestrxsh]

sub!pizzaboy!chris x customer!reader

🍕 content warning: smut, oral (m! & f!receiving), praise, masturbation, edging, fingering, unprotected sex, age gap (both characters are adults)

🍕 summary: your delivery boy, chris, is used to getting away with everything due to his dashing good looks, but it does him no good when he tries to resist your magnetic charm. when he arrives with your meat lovers earlier than expected, you're hungry for more than just the pizza.

if it's cheesy, it's because i wanted it to be 🧀 may this fic make you cum whilst you laugh at my stupid wordplay

dividers by idkk?? i saved them forever ago and forget where i got them from; if you know who made them, lmk so i can give credit !

Pizza Guy

chapters: | intro | 1 |

It was a cool, late-autumn evening, the wind rustling through the falling dead leaves and the temperature slowly dropping with every day that winter neared. You were at home, lounging in a silk pajama set on your couch, curled up with a book and a glass of wine while you were waiting for the pizza you'd ordered to arrive.

Suddenly, a knock at the door broke your attention away from the page and brought you back to the present moment. You glanced over at the clock. Surely, that couldn't have been the pizza. You weren't expecting it for another half-hour.

You pulled open the door to reveal a cute blue-eyed brunette in his work uniform who greeted you with a sweet smile. He was a few inches taller than you but looked to be a few years younger than you, and he had this innocent demeanor about him that immediately sparked your interest.

You wet your lips as your gaze scanned the delivery boy's features. You were drawn to his captivating eyes, his pink cheeks, and his pouty lips. "Hello, ma'am. I have your meat lovers pizza with extra Italian sausage," he said, double-checking the box he held in his hands.

"You're gonna hate me. I left my wallet upstairs," you stuck your bottom lip out at him in a little frown. "Oh, that's fine, ma'am. I can wait here," he kindly responded, the corners of his mouth turning up again. "Aren't you gonna get cold out here?" You asked, giving him a sympathetic look. "I'll be alright," he shrugged, his eyes dancing over your attractive features.

"I can't make you wait out in this weather, sweet boy. Why don't you come inside?" You replied in a nurturing tone as you crossed your arms, pushing up your breasts and revealing your hardening nipples that were straining against the soft fabric of your silk button-down.

"I don't think I should," he softly answered even though he was contemplating it, his eyes drawn towards your chest. "I'm not even standing out there, and I'm freezing. What if you catch a cold because of me? I couldn't live with myself," you said in an endearing voice as you ran your fingertips along your arm, trying to warm up.

He knew it was against store policy to enter a customer's home, but he figured he could bend the rules just this once. After all, the only thing providing his hands warmth was the pizza box he was holding, and the tip of his nose was growing red from the biting chill. He nibbled on his lip and nodded, accepting your generous offer and hesitantly stepping into your home.

"Make yourself comfortable," you told him, letting him in. You turned around to retrieve your wallet from upstairs, and Chris' stare migrated to the way your ass jiggled in your silk bottoms as you hurried up the steps. He couldn't help himself. You were just so hot. He glanced at the fancy bottle of red wine you had sitting on your coffee table along with the romance novel that laid beside it.

He wondered what a gorgeous woman like you was doing on a Saturday night, drinking alone and reading a book about love instead of making it.

You trotted back down the steps with your wallet in hand, sights fixed on the boy standing in your cozy living room who immediately noticed you'd undone the top two buttons of your shirt while you were upstairs. He knew exactly what you were doing, but he couldn't entertain it. It was a weekend, and he knew there would be plenty of pizzas to deliver and a lot of money to make.

"What's your name, baby?" You wondered as you reached into your wallet to count your bills. "Chris," he replied, loving the pet names you called him. "Alright, Chris. How much do I owe you, sweetie?" You asked, peering into his gorgeous blue eyes. "Um, $19.69," he blushed, clearing his throat and looking down at the price on your receipt he had pinned between his thumb and the box.

You smirked at him, pulling two $20 bills out of your wallet. "Here's for being so patient with me," you leaned in and whispered into his ear as you hooked two of your fingers into Chris' front pocket and slowly slid the cash in. While your were leaned in so closely, you could feel the heat radiating from his body and you picked up on the scent of pepperoni and hint of weed that lingered on his clothing.

"Thank you, ma'am. That's so generous. I don't know if I can accept that much," he replied, feeling all the blood rush to the tip of his cock as you flirted with the idea of breaking the touch barrier but not doing so just yet. "Sure, you can. You deserve it." You took the pizza box from him and placed it gently on your coffee table.

"You should stay a little longer. I'll make you a cup of hot chocolate, and you can warm up a little before you have to go back out into the cold," you offered, licking your lips while you examined his softening expression. "I should really get back to the shop," Chris said, breaking eye contact and trying to exercise self-control.

"Oh, come on. Stay for one cup of hot cocoa, sweet boy. You can just tell your boss you had trouble finding my house. Do you like it made with milk or water?" You asked, not giving him another chance to decline your proposition.

His gaze flickered back up at yours. He had your money. He could have easily excused himself and gone back to work, but he was secretly hoping for an excuse to stall and spend a little more time with you.

"Milk," he softly responded, completely in a trance with your caring nature. "You want whipped cream on top, baby? And marshmallows?" You cooed. "Yes, ma'am. Both please," he nodded, accepting your kind gesture. "Have a seat, Chris. Have a piece of pizza," you motioned towards the couch as you stepped into the kitchen to warm up some milk.

"How long have you been a delivery boy?" You asked, lighting the front left burner of your stove. "About a year," Chris replied, plopping down onto the sofa and reaching into the box to grab a slice. "Yeah? You make good money?" You inquired, fillling up a pot with milk. "Yeah, about $150 a night," he told you with his mouth full of pizza.

"Wow. That's a lot of money for this area. It must be because you're so timely and polite. And so handsome," you casually added, peeking up at him. He blushed and gave you a shy smile. "Oh, I don't know about that," he humbly replied. "Sure you are. You're cute, and you know it, too," you smirked at him. He took another big bite of pizza.

"So, do you always come quick?" You asked him. "Excuse me?" he politely answered you, nearly choking on his food and raising his eyebrows, unsure if he heard the question correctly. "I mean, when you're delivering pizza. Do you always arrive so quickly? I wasn't expecting you for another thirty minutes," you said, your eyes shifting between the boy on your couch and the clock on the wall. "I drive fast," he smiled.

"You really care about pleasing the customer, don't you?" You insinuated, bringing over the cup of hot chocolate. Your fingertips gently grazed his as you passed him the warm, ceramic mug. "Yes ma'am. I do. I live for it," he said in a submissive tone, glancing up at you.

"You ever get pulled over because you were driving too fast?" You wondered, raising an eyebrow at him and taking a seat on the couch beside him. "A handful of times, but it's always by the same officer in the same area I drive through. She always gives me shit, runs my license, registration, and insurance, and the whole bit, but she always lets me off with a warning," Chris replied before taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

"Mmmm, this is good," Chris said, licking the whipped topping off his lip. "Oh, baby. You missed a spot," you chuckled, moving a bit closer and gently running the pad of your thumb against the smudge and cleaning it off his upper lip while you stared deep into his eyes. You slowly licked the sugary cream from your thumb and grinned at him. He secretly liked the way you babied him and how in touch you were with your maternal instincts.

He took a few more sips of his chocolatey drink, savoring the warmth and sweetness it provided. "How much longer is your shift?" You wondered, studying his jawline and his full lips. "I close tonight, so at least another six hours," he gave a disappointed half-smile. "Awh. I can't believe they're making you work late on a Saturday night," you gave him a little frown. "It's alright. It's good money," he replied, drinking more of his hot cocoa.

"You know, I really appreciate the tip, the slice of pizza, and the hot chocolate, but I really should get going," Chris replied, setting the nearly empty mug on the coffee table. "Oh, sweet boy. Look at your pants. They're a mess," you chuckled, brushing crumbs off of his lap and gently grazing his cock that twitched in response to your light touch.

"Ma'am, you're making this very hard for me right now," Chris said in a serious tone, grabbing your wrist and looking into your eyes. "What am I making hard for you, baby?" You cooed. "I know what you're doing," Chris looked at you with his submissive eyes.

"Then why don't you let me keep doing it? I'll take good care of you, darling," you placed a hand on his cheek, cradling his face and searching for the answers in his expression to get him to stay. "It wouldn't be right.." he started to say, but his voice trailed off and he loosened his grip on your wrist as you leaned in, closing the distance between his lips and yours. You pulled him into a trance with your deep, passionate kiss, swirling your tongue around in his mouth.

"Says who? Isn't the customer always right? Don't you wanna leave me satisfied, baby?" You asked him, nudging his chin up with your nose, exposing his throat, and planting a soft kiss on the side of his neck. Chris was such a sucker for neck kisses and pleasing the customer. He couldn't stop you now. He wanted you too badly and so desperately craved to satisfy you.

"What would I even say?" Chris wondered out loud, racking his brain for an excuse to get out of the rest of his shift but getting distracted by your luscious lips. "I'm sure you'll think of something," you mumbled, pressing your tongue against a sensitive spot on his neck and giving him another passionate kiss.

"I can't think about anything except how amazing your mouth feels," Chris whimpered, giving into the sensation. "Give me your cellphone," you said, pulling away and holding out your hand. "What for?" He asked you, hesitantly reaching into his pocket and placing it in your palm. You handed Chris back his phone after dialing the number to his work and tapping the speaker button.

"Just tell your boss you got a flat tire or something, and that you can't come back to work for the rest of the night. I'll make it worth your while," you seductively suggested, whispering as you gently nibbled on his ear. He let out a soft moan as your teeth grazed his earlobe. "Hey, Chris. What's up? You've been gone a while. You find the delivery address?" A man answered the phone, recognizing Chris' caller ID.

"I got kind of lost on the way there, but I eventually found it. Um, I actually called because someone slashed my tires when I stopped to take a leak. Could you put a manager on so I can explain the situation?" He asked, trying to keep his composure as your lips traveled back to his neck, sinking your teeth into his sensitive flesh. He bit down on his lip to suppress another moan.

"Of course. Give me a sec. I'm gonna put you on hold," the guy on the other end of the line replied. You grabbed the hem of Chris' work shirt, pulling it up and off over his head, disheveling his hair while you did so. "I can't believe you have me doing this right now," he whispered as you fell to your knees in front of him. You smirked up at him, your hands reaching for his belt.

"What are you doing?" He whispered, looking down at his lap wide-eyed, the sound of the metal clanking against itself as you unbuckled it. "You just get so many nice tips, I thought maybe you could spare one," you chuckled. "While I'm on the phone with my boss?" He peered down at you in disbelief. "Let's see how well you can hold it together," you smirked.

"Oh my god. I don't usually mix business and pleasure in this manner, ma'am," he innocently whispered as you reached into his underwear. "You can save the I don't usually do this talk for someone else, because guess what? You're already doing it," you giggled. He sharply inhaled as you pulled out his half-erect cock.

"Wow, it's so big, and it's not even all the way hard yet," you gasped, taking it into your hand and slowly beginning to stroke his shaft.

It was long and veiny, and the head was pink, smooth, and already beginning to swell with arousal. He was so flattered by the way you lovingly looked at it, gently petting it and causing more blood to flow to it. He peered down at you with hungry eyes and a lustful expression.

"Chris? Someone slashed your tires?" A woman spoke into the phone as you slowly licked from the base of his length, stopping right where the heads meets his staff. Chris' jaw dropped and his breath hitched in his throat as he watched the way you teased him. His cock, that had now grown to its full size, twitched at the sensation of your heavenly tongue, and a bit of pre-cum gushed from his slit.

"Chris?" The woman said again, sounding agitated. "Yes ma'am," Chris said in a strangled voice as you began spiraling slow licks around the tip, cleaning up the clear fluid. "Chris, are you stoned right now? You know, we've talked about this. If it were anyone else, I would've fired them on the spot after the first time. You're just such a hard worker and get such good reviews-" his boss started to scold him.

"No, no. Nothing like that, ma'am. I'm just shaken up. That's all," Chris cut her off, trying to keep his composure while he stared down at the way you flickered your tongue over his slit. Her tone immediately changed. "Awh, Chris. I'm so sorry I accused you of being high on the job. Do you need a ride home, sweetie?" She tenderly asked him.

"No, ma'am. I appreciate it. I already got one. I just wanted to call to let you know I can't get new tires until tomorrow, so I won't be able to finish my shift," Chris managed to get out before a small sigh escaped his lips and his head fell back as you worked your magical tongue on him. "Of course. Let me know if you need anything, Chris," his manager relayed in a tone you swore was almost seductive. "Anything at all," she emphasized, the desperation in her voice coming through.

He was so mesmerized by the way you sheathed his marble-smooth, pink head between your soft lips that he nearly forgot he was on the phone. "Chris?" His manager broke him out of his trance. "Yes. Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate that," Chris responded, staring down and nodding at you as you started to move your lips down his length, taking more of him into your mouth, massaging the backside of his dick with your tongue.

"Good night, Chris. Do whatever you need to do to relax," she said, definitely picturing him masturbating. "Good night, ma'am," Chris replied before concluding the call just in time for a guttural moan to pass through his lips and fill the room. You paused for a moment, taking Chris' dick out of your mouth with a faint pop, creating a wonderful suction for his nerve endings.

"Are you fucking her?" You narrowed your eyes at him and gave him a smirk. "My boss?" He asked with a surprised inflection, raising his eyebrows. You nodded at him. "No, ma'am. I swear I'm not," he quickly shook his head. "Well, she wants you to," you smiled. "Anything at all," you mockingly exaggerated her desperation. "I know. She's so obvious about it," Chris smirked down at you as you made his cock disappear behind your lips again.

He could finally enjoy the way you gently suckled on it, rolling your tongue around on his tip, and he didn't have to hold back his delighted noises anymore. Whimpers escaped his lips, one cascading after the other, filling the room with the sweet sound of his pleasure. He started to comb through your hair with his fingers as he sank further into the couch and further into his desire to fill your mouth with his seed.

"You work so hard, always taking care of everyone, but at the end of the day, who takes good care of you, hmm?" You cooed, stroking his length. He moaned loudly at your words. "Good boy. Enjoy it. You deserve it," you whispered before teasing the head with your tongue again.

"Ma'am, I don't know how much more I can take," he looked down at you lustfully, studying how you encircled the head with your licks. His dick involuntarily jerked again, a reflex to the way you intuitively knew what he liked. "I know you can take it, and you're going to," you whispered seductively. "Yes, ma'am," he whimpered as you took more of him into your mouth, sliding your lips all the way down until his tip hit the back of throat.

You loved how respectful he was even when he was on the brink of orgasm.

He clawed at the seat cushion underneath him, a desperate attempt to keep himself from finishing too soon. He thoughtfully watched your every move, thoroughly enjoying every subtlety of your technique that was becoming sloppier and messier. "Please, I need to cum," he whined, furrowing his brow, wetting his lips, and looking down at you with carnal desire in his eyes.

But you couldn't give into him just yet. You wanted to hear the desperation seeping into his tone of voice and see the neediness carved into his expression before you even thought about letting him finish.

"You don't understand how bad I need it," his luscious voice poured into the room. You carried on, ignoring his pleas to cum and fervently bobbing your head up and down on his cock some more. His moans became more strained as you continued to make him hold out, letting his head fall back and closing his eyes.

"Look at me, baby," you ordered him before you resumed manipulating all his tender nerve-endings. He loved the way you bossed him around, obediently following your directions. He did as he was told, peering back down at you and your tongue that was dancing around his tip, relentlessly teasing him.

"Please, ma'am. I've been such a good boy," he urgently begged, becoming teary-eyed. That's it, you thought to yourself. That was the kind of desperation you'd been patiently waiting for. You nodded at him, giving him silently permission as a tear rolled down his cheek. He let out a few loud, guttural moans, his voice cracking and his breath getting caught in his throat again.

You felt his dick pulse between your lips while you hummed against it, pressing the flat part of your tongue against his tip and causing his sweet and salty substance to spray off into different streams into your mouth, intensifying his orgasm. A few more primal sounds poured from his lips while you drained his throbbing member of his tasty seed.

"Thank you, ma'am. Thank you," he graciously praised you as you collected every last bit onto your tongue before swallowing it, making sure not to waste a single drop. He stared down at you breathlessly with his bedroom eyes, his flushed cheeks, and his slightly parted lips, his heart beating out of his chest.

"You're so good with your mouth, ma'am. How can I ever repay you?" Chris wondered, wiping away his tears of satisfaction and slipping his cock back into his pants. "Not necessary. It was my pleasure," you whispered, winking at him. "Ma'am. I insist. Please let me show you how good I can make you feel," he said in a soft, subservient voice, giving you puppy dog eyes.

You nibbled on your lip as you stood up in front of Chris. You reached down and picked up your glass of wine, taking a long sip before you started to unbutton your silk shirt. He watched as you slowly opened your blouse, exposing your breasts to him as you peered into his blue eyes.

"You'd do that for me, sweet boy?" You cooed, brushing your thumb against his cheek while you tilted your head down at him and held eye-contact. "I'd do anything to please you," he whispered, tipping his chin up at you. "Be a good boy and get on your knees for me," you said in a soft and sweet but domineering manner. He nodded before he dropped to his knees in front of you.

He curled his fingers into your waistband and slowly stripped your bottoms off of you. You stepped out of them, one leg at a time, Chris' eyes fixed on the treasure between your thighs. Chris bent your knee and slung your leg over his shoulder, so you could rest your foot on the edge of the couch while he nestled into your warmth. His tongue gently flickered over your clit, sending a lovely sensation through you.

Despite having just finished, the act of eating your pussy had him all worked up and needy again, his hand slithering below his waist as it found its way into his the waistband of his boxers. He wrapped his fingers around his shaft and started pumping back and forth. He clamped his lips down on your sensitive bud, moaning against it.

"Good boy," you whimpered, running your digits through his hair and brushing it out of his pretty face. He was so gentle and tender, taking his time with his licks, but they were perfectly sensual and effective nonetheless. You gasped as he suckled on your most delicate nerve-endings, and the sound of him hungrily lapping up your wetness filled the room.

You let go, allowing yourself to be swept up in the delightful feeling his tongue brought you as it expertly prodded around your glistening folds. "That's it, baby. You're doing such a good job," you commended him. You smiled down at him, whimpering and licking your lips.

"Ma'am, you taste so sweet," Chris softly replied right before taking his hand out of his pants and placing his middle finger at your entrance. "I'm gonna make you feel so good," he smirked up at you, sinking his digit into your hole.

He noted how tight you felt wrapped around just one finger. He couldn't keep himself from fantasizing about how your pussy would feel encasing his cock.

He went back to delicately licking your clit while he worked his curled finger into your heat, pulling it almost all the way out and pushing it back in again. You loved the way it felt, but it left your core aching for more.

"Chris.. I need something else from you, sweetie," you responded, looking down lovingly at the obvious bulge in his jeans. "What do you need from me?" He sweetly asked, resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh and peering up at you, eager to serve you in any way he could.

You loved his subordinate nature, his obedient tone, and his enthusiasm about doing anything for you that you wanted him to. "Let me ride you, sweet boy," you requested, playing with his hair. "Oh, yes, ma'am. I thought you'd never ask," he softly whined, hypnotizing you with his desperate eyes.

You unhooked your leg from the boy's shoulder, and when he stood up, you placed your pointer finger on his chest and lightly pushed him back. He bent to your will, allowing your gentle shove to subdue him onto your sofa. He sunk into the furniture and pulled his dick out of his waistband once more, presenting it to you in all its glory. It was still incredibly hard.

You straddled him, sticking your breasts in his face, and he eagerly took one of your nipples into his mouth. You grabbed onto his cock, holding it in place, so you could lower yourself onto it. You gasped as you enveloped the tip, and you let out a delighted sigh as you sat all the way down on it. Chris moaned against your breast, relishing in the sensation of having your heat wrapped around him.

He placed his hands on your waist so he could feel every intricacy in the way you rolled your hips forward, grinding on him as you rode him. You slid up and down on his rod with ease, becoming increasingly wet. "You're so big," you complimented him, feeling the way his dimensions filled you snugly, and he blushed at your praise.

You reached between your legs and started drawing tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves while you maintained your stamina. "Ma'am, this is the best tip I've ever received," Chris whimpered, breathlessly. "I'd have to say the same," you smirked down at him. A few subtle whimpers escaped the boy's lips as you sped up your pace.

Chris' eyes started to roll back, but you gently tugged onto his ear, and whispered, "Look at me while you cum, sweet boy." He weakly nodded at you, his expression drenched in sheer lust and his facial features making it apparent to you how good you were making him feel.

"I'm so lucky I got you as my pizza delivery boy," you moaned, looking into his eyes. "Respectfully, ma'am, I think I'm the lucky one," he whimpered, furrowing his brow and digging into your sides with his fingertips.

"You've been such a good boy. Why don't you cum for me, sweetie?" You cooed, recognizing how close he was and how badly he needed this. "Inside?" He politely clarified. "Yes, Chris. Fill me up," you responded, nodding at him. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, letting all his muscles relax as his orgasm washed over him like a rising tide.

His climax ebbed and flowed through him. His cock twitched inside of you, pumping you full of his seed until it started leaking down his length and making a mess on his jeans. He was incredibly sensitive, but he waited patiently until your orgasm followed shortly after.

"Oh, Chris," you called out in a sultry moan as you clenched around him, finishing onto his rod and adding to the mess of fluids that were leaking onto his lap. The pace of your fingers on your clit slowed down as well as the movement of your hips until you finally came to a halt. You smiled down at Chris, pulling him into one more intense kiss and overwhelming his tastebuds with notes of red wine.

You climbed off of him, and started to slip back into your clothes. He admired your body one last time as you covered back up, taking a few moments to recover from the powerful sensation. His chest rose and fell as his breathing began to regulate itself, and he tucked himself back into his jeans, pulling his zipper closed, buttoning them back up, and buckling his belt.

You reached into your wallet again, pulling out $150, the amount Chris told you he would've made had he worked the rest of his shift, and you tucked it into his pocket. "Ma'am. Do you think I'm some kind of hooker or something? I can't accept money for sex," he smiled at you, pulling his work shirt back on over his head.

"You were on the job. I'm only paying you for your valuable time. We just so happened to have sex," you shrugged, winking at him while you did up the buttons on your silky pajama top. He shook his head, ready to decline your money offer.

"Come on, if you had trouble making rent this month because I got greedy and wouldn't let you leave, I'd feel just awful," you seductively said, tilting his chin up with your finger. "Even if you just spend it on weed," you winked at him. He chuckled and rolled his eyes in response.

"I can't wait to leave you a good review. Let everyone in town know how filling the Italian sausage is."

🍕 click for part two

taglist: @bsturnzmtt @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @zariyam @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @new2024cats4life @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @babysturniolo @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1 @chrislova @stellarsturns @lelesturniolo @sturniolodoll @ilovemattsturn @blahbel668

[ranidspace]

there's a lot of fear mongering around the new firefox terms of service and privacy policy and most of all of it is bullshit and, just fear mongering. One thing that is concerning however is the following:

Your use of Firefox must follow Mozilla’s Acceptable Use Policy, and you agree that you will not use Firefox to infringe anyone’s rights or violate any applicable laws or regulations.

Before this would only apply to mozilla services such as the matrix chat, firefox send (rip), the vpn, or whatever, but now they are saying it is applied to the browser as well.

And one of the things you shouldn't do according to the policy is, you guessed it:

Upload, download, transmit, display, or grant access to content that includes graphic depictions of sexuality or violence

So mozilla (perhaps accidentally, companies love to do this but also mozilla is kind of stupid), just said you cannot use firefox to browse porn. If it is intentional and they double down on this (which I'm really not sure if they even can, firefox is a program running locally on your computer, it's not a service they can just ban you from or anything like that, again, mozilla is a bit stupid), it's not a reason to use chromium. In the terms of service they also write:

These Terms only apply to the Executable Code version of Firefox, not the Firefox source code.

"the Executable Code" is vague, like does it count if you build it locally on your computer, or is it just the mozilla packaged versions of it downloaded from official sources or whatever idk.

But i think it would make sense forks don't count as the terms apply to "Firefox" and not anything else. So here's some alternative browsers which aren't firefox, but are firefox based:

Librewolf: just firefox, all the crap removed, and lots of privacy features turned on as well. Google is disabled in the search bar, but you can enable it again with a bit of a hack, and by default, history and cookies is cleared when you close it. You can turn that off easily. Basically identical to regular firefox otherwise, it's what i'm currently using.

Zen: Very new but gaining popularity quickly. kind of buggy due to it's recency, but people seem to love it. Main focus is customization, but with improvements in privacy, and speed. Pretty different from other browsers, but that might be what you want.

thats. basically the main two rn. i dont think anything else really would be good for most people and even as someone who really likes to get into things deep with privacy and security and shit i think librewolf is just fine. there's lot of other options but they're kinda all in the categories that these two cover.

While nowhere near in a state to be used as a regular browser, i would keep your eyes on Ladybird which is undergoing the insane challenge of making a web browser from scratch; it's not based on chromium or firefox. The first alpha version is projected to come out next year and it seems very promising.

[stellophiliac]

you should make a website!

"my favorite social media site is shutting down!"

"the CEO of the site i use just committed another atrocity!"

"i want a webspace that's all my own!"

if any of these sound like you (and if you're on tumblr, i know at least one applies) you should make your own website!

why make a website?

incredibly customizable

you can put whatever you want on it

it's, well, your own! like a house you build with your own hands

things you'll need

a computer. you can maybe get away with doing this on a mobile device, but i have zero experience there

a code editor. i like VScodium, which is a de-microsoft-ed version of VScode.

a will to learn ;)

site hosting

neocities. everyone knows neocities. at this point i do feel like it's become a bit too centralized, but it's a good option nonetheless. do note that there are filetype restrictions for free users, but that shouldn't be a huge issue for most. what may be an issue, though, is that there's a content security policy that prevents sites made after jan 1st, 2024 to use outside scripts. also, you have to pay to use your own domain

nekoweb. similar to neocities, but there's no filetype restrictions or a content security policy. some differences are outlined in the FAQ (thinking about moving here... i am a traitor...) i'm not sure if domain support is free or paid.

github pages or codeberg pages. you'll need an understanding of git for this

pages.gay: run by besties.house, uses git

teacake: free hosting is currently closed, but paid hosting starts at 2 bucks a month.

leprd.space: i know next to nothing about this.

a web server. don't recommend this if you don't know computer stuff but it is an option (you'll likely have to provide your own domain though)

gripes & solutions (?)

i'm not comfortable maintaining pages in pure HTML / templating with JS sucks!

with a static site generator, you can write pages in markdown and they'll be converted into HTML and (if you'd like) be put into a template of your choosing. my personal choice is 11ty but there are tons of options!

static site generators can be a bit of a learning curve (and you will have to write some html for templating) but if you're making a lot of pages or blogging regularly it's something to consider

there are starters for 11ty online but i might make a more beginner-proofed starter and/or guide in the future? don't count on it

i don't want to write/maintain CSS

simpleCSS is a tiny CSS file you can use to make semantic HTML ("naked" HTML) look nice. it's got decent customization options too. it's not particularly fancy or opinionated, but it's a good starting point if you need something

i don't know what to put on my website!

small list of ideas:

weblog

art/writing/music gallery

movie/show/book tracker

place to store bookmarks/links

scary! i'm scared!

my askbox/messages/e-mail inbox/etc. are open to anyone who'd like to ask for help!

[stxrrkissed]

── ۶ৎ QUICK RELEASE .ᐟ

꣑ꦌ jj maybank x fem!pogue!reader ৴ LENGTH 1.1k

DESCRIPTION after an altercation at his job, jj needs your help in order to calm down.

CONTENT angry!jj ꣑ slight mention of luke (ew) ꣑ blowjob ꣑ p in v ꣑ creampie.

THOUGHTS another addition posted from my kinktober event that i didn't get to finish, only three more left to finish. i think that this is my first smut fic for the obx fandom.

𝒾. mlist 𝒾𝒾. previous fic 𝒾𝒾𝒾. prompts 𝒾𝓋. based on this ask

TODAY HAS BEEN A VERY BUSY DAY, you would think your job is giving something away with how many people there were. You locate your punch in card, indicating that you’re going on lunch. 

You need the break, with how overwhelming working at the country club can get from time to time. Plus you saw your boyfriend going on break just a few minutes ago and you wanted to spend some time with him.

But the first thing you do is head to the kitchen to pick up the food you asked your friend to make for you, she always hooks you up which is why you love working with her other than your boyfriend. “Thanks Nayeli, you’re the best,” you praise as you pull her in for a quick hug. 

“No problem, enjoy your food.” 

You make your way to you and jj’s secret spot knowing he’ll be there waiting for you, you found the place the first day you started work there when you got lost. No one really goes there so it is just you two spending time together there. 

You open the door and there is your blond boyfriend pacing back and forth as if he’s planning to dig a hole in the ground, a frown sits on your face as you watch him, clearing your throat to announce that you’re there. 

JJ looks at you though furrow eyebrows that only soften a little when he sees you, you could tell how angry he was by how red his face was. “What’s wrong?” You query, setting down your food in a safe spot, walking up to him, softly placing your hands on his waist. 

“I can’t fucking wait to quit this place!��� He rambles, not answering what you had asked but you stand there and listen. “These customers are so fucking annoying, it took so much not to curse them out.”

“All of them have fucking attitudes like I won’t spit in their food!” JJ spoke, inhaling and exhaling as he went on. “Fuck customers are always right policy, all of them can go fuck themselves!” he curses, you run your hand up and down his chest, knowing how much he loves when you do that. “I know you’re upset and you have every right to be but remember why you got this job,” you speak softly. 

“You got bills you need to pay and not to mention your father will be on your case and I know you don’t want that,” you continue, looking into his blue eyes. “I know this job can be much at times but you need it, I don’t want you getting fired for losing your cool.” you add. 

“I know but I can’t go back out there, I’m way too angry and I might just snap at the first person that annoys me.” 

An idea pops up into your mind, separating yourself from him a bit as you walk up to the door, locking it with the lock, you know no one will come here as many don’t know about this spot but just in case, they couldn’t get in. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Shh, I know exactly what’s going to change your mood,” you say, standing in front of him again, going down to squat position, your hands wasting no time to unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants, and pulling his pants along with his boxers down, watching how his semi hard dick springs up, aching for your attention. 

You wrap a hand around his shaft, bringing your lips to the tip, giving it a kiss. 

You swirl your tongue around his pinkish tip as you give his shaft a few pumps before parting your lips to take him into your mouth. Your saliva makes it easy to slide his length down your throat. You look up to him, making sure that he’s enjoying it, his brows are knitting together as he lets out small moans making your cunt clench around nothing, making you wish that his cock was inside of you right now.

You begin to move your head up and down, sucking in your cheeks to cause more friction. JJ lets out a groan as he looks down at you, thinking of how pretty you look as you continuously bobble your head like a toy as you take his erect pulsating cock down your throat, occasionally the tip brushing past your gag reflex.

You love how much he’s enjoying you giving him head, seeing how relaxed he is than before. You bring your free hand under your skirt, placing it on your clit, moving your fingers over it in circles, moaning onto his cock, your fingers getting drench with your juices. 

“Shit…” JJ curses under his breath, your mouth was like magic to him. Working your way up from his base to the tip, massaging his balls and all he could feel was pleasure, all the anger he felt, fading away while he watches you do your thing.

“Babe, you’re making me feel so good,” he moans, not taking his eyes off of you, watching how you play with your pussy, hearing the squishy noise that comes out of it. You look up at him with tear filled eyes as you hold your position while drool makes its way down your chin.

“Hold on babe,” JJ starts, knowing how close he was. “I want to cum inside of you, can I?” 

“Yes,” you nod your head, getting up to bend over on one of the tables, spreading your legs wide open as JJ lines up the tip of his dick to your sopping hole after putting your panties to the side. He slowly slides his length into you, stopping once his pelvis flushes against the swell of your ass before starting to rock his hips, holding your leg up to reach a deeper spot. 

Your shared moans filling the room as he pounds deep into your aching core. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you, indicating that he’s about to cum.

“Ahhh fuck…” he flushes against your ass once more, painting your gummy walls with his hot seed, breathing heavily as he drains every last drop inside of you. 

“Mmm… I’m happy that I could get you to feel better,” you stumble out. “We should get back to work now.”

You try to get up but he places a hand on your back to refrain you from doing so. “Nuh uh, we ain’t done until you cum baby, the customers can wait a few more minutes.” JJ smirks as he continues his torture on your greedy cunt.

COMMENTS (if you want to be tagged in obx fics, click here) @cherriespopsicle, @anamiad00msday, @ren-ni, @agnxstic, @nashira1nix.

thank you for reading! © stxrrkissed 2025. all rights reserved — do not claim, copy, re-post or translate.

[farfallasims]

Petition To End Perm Paywalling Creators

Over the last several days, Perm Paywalling creators such as Bergdorfverse, Leosims, AggressiveKitty & Cowbuild have done organized & illegal DMCA attacks/takedowns on my content & several other creators. Due to this & Tumblr's lack of knowledge of EA's Custom Content policies, my Tumblr & other's are at high risk of being DELETED.

I recommend all creators that if you have linked to the Vault or any other free sites with the creators listed above, to please REMOVE those links & photos to avoid having a copyright strike on your account. If not, you are also at risk of having your Tumblr PERMANENTLY REMOVED.

You are able to counter strike the UNLAWFUL strikes these creators have done since EA/The Sims OWN all CC created if listed as a .package for download. Therefore, these creators are abusing their lack of DMCA rights to try to prove a point. However, if you do counter strike, you have to provide legal name, address, email, etc. to creators who are known for DOXING. So, I do not recommend countering if you fear your personal information being leaked.

Now, I urge you all to please join a movement that Jake, (@simstwink) has started by making a petition to have EA finally enforce the rules & policies they made LAST YEAR. We wish to put an end to these toxic Perm Paywalling Creators and protect the creative community of content creators like myself and YOU.

I have provided a link below to the petition that I urge you strongly to sign. Please help protect the content creating community for old simmers like myself and for the new ones to come.

I love all 22K of you IMMENSELY, and wish to say a massive thank you for the platform you've given me. Although this blog will probably be terminated, it will not be the end of me as a creator nor on this platform. The Butterfly Garden will flourish, and I will be back stronger than ever.

LINK TO PETITION

[cinematiquemuse]

This Is Fine (And Other Lies I Tell at Work)

Pairing : Officemates! John Walker x Bob Reynolds

Summary : Bob Reynolds didn’t expect much when he transferred to the customer service department – just a desk, a more decent benefits package, and hopefully no talkative officemate. Enter John Walker: too charming for his own good, recently broken up with his longtime girlfriend, and assigned to train Bob the newbie.

Bob swears he didn’t mean to volunteer as a lifter for their department’s cheerleading squad for their company's upcoming Sports Day — and he definitely didn’t mean to volunteer John Walker along with him. But one distracted nod in the middle of a casual conversation with the cheerleading captain (he didn't know she was the captain), and suddenly, they were both signed up with no way out due to the lack of willing male participants.

Between awkward routines, shared laughter, and unexpected moments of comfort, Bob and John start breaking down walls they didn’t realize were there.

What began as reluctant teamwork turns into something messier: friends who show up for late-night texts, casual touches that linger, and a no-strings agreement neither fully trusts.

Warnings : 18+ content, minors dni, smut, friends with benefits, alternate universe - office, hurt/comfort, suggestive sexual content, p in a.

Author's Note : This is my first time writing something in here, hopefully it would turn into something great and I'm kind of second guessing if I should go ahead with it. Anyways, will be posting the chapters soon!

Small update, I also posted this in my AO3.

Chapters :

Chapter 1: Orientation & Other Work Hazards

Bob is doing great in the new department he transferred in: he hasn’t embarrassed himself (yet), the vending machine likes him, and HR didn’t scare him that much. But what he did not anticipate was accidentally signing himself and his grumpy hot tenured workmate John Walker up for the department’s cheerleading squad. Bob can confidently say that HR did not orient him for this kind of scenario.

Chapter 2: No HR Policy Covers This

A smoke break in the parking lot sparks an unexpected connection, but cheer practice chaos, a beach getaway, and a well-timed office gossip throw everything off balance. Back at work, Bob’s drunk vacation posts fuel the teasing, tensions simmer, and on the eve of competition. A quiet shopping run with John turns into anything but routine.

Chapter Three: Terms and Conditions (May Apply) — Part 1 | Part 2

It’s officially Sports Day. Bob’s stressed, John’s suspiciously charming, and Joaquin’s ready to throw hands. The routine? Nailed. The feelings? Debatable. The ending? …Complicated.

Chapter 4: Mutual Misunderstanding

Bob broke HR protocol in a parking lot, fed the man pancakes, then tried to professionally ghost him—like any emotionally-repressed corporate darling would. But John "doesn’t know how to quit" Walker circled back like a follow-up ticket. Add a graduation, a team outing that smelled like tequila and trauma, and unsolicited wisdom from terrifying coworkers,— and suddenly Bob has answers to questions he never asked—but absolutely needed. Bob’s work-life boundary is in shambles. Feelings? In this economy?

Chapter 5: The Printer Jammed Again (So Did We)

The office printer isn’t the only thing breaking down under pressure. Bob and John’s undefined thing keeps glitching between routine comfort and emotional malfunction. Miscommunications pile up like unsorted paperwork— but just as things start spiraling into something messier, in walks a new player in the field: brooding but charming, inconvenient, and unknowingly about to make it all worse for John.

Chapter Six: Pending Approval: What Are We?

Bob’s still treating emotional vulnerability like a scam email, and John’s heart has officially entered its new era. But as a wave of office gossip swells and Bob's unbothered mask starts to chip, John realizes wanting more isn't enough. Not when everything between them is still stuck in limbo, waiting for someone to say what they really mean. Feelings: drafted. Honesty: pending approval.

Chapter Seven: This Meeting Could’ve Been a Love Confession

It’s the office year-end party — which means neon lights, questionable drinks, a foam machine someone definitely shouldn't have approved of, and John trying really hard not to spiral after saying something he maybe, possibly, definitely shouldn’t have. But it’s fine. Totally fine. Nothing a little awkward small talk, emotional whiplash, and an HR-violating dance floor can’t fix. Probably. Maybe. God, he hopes so.

ONGOING.

Add yourself to my taglist! <3

[alastorssimp]

Under the hood

Eddie munson x steve harrington x y/n reader

⚠️ CONTENT WARNINGS:

🔞 Explicit sexual content / Smut / NSFW

💔 Infidelity / Cheating (Eddie is in a relationship)

🛠️ Mechanic shop setting / Workplace sex

👄 Oral sex (including under-the-desk BJs with customers nearby)

🔧 Semi-public sex / Risk of being caught

👨‍🔧👨‍🔧👩 Threesome (M/M/F)

🫢 Secret relationships / Lying / Deception

🫦 Degradation, praise kink, dirty talk

🤬 Language / Crude dialogue

🧠 Dubious morals / Questionable ethics

🚫 No condom / Unsafe sex

🥵 Rough sex, manhandling, slight possessiveness

🧨 plot with lots of filth

🔥 3k words of filth so potent it voids your HR policy

(Divider curtesy of @thecutestgrotto 🥰)

It always started the same way.

A lull in the grind of the day. The clang of a wrench hitting the floor. The buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead. Customers gone, workers on lunch, phones quiet. The air in the garage hung heavy with heat, the smell of oil, and the unspoken tension between Y/N and Eddie Munson.

Y/N had only been working at the shop for a year. Hired on the spot when Eddie’s uncle Wayne mentioned they needed help with paperwork and someone who could organize the chaos the guys left in their wake. She’d been quiet at first—sweet and polite, with long red hair she kept twisted up in a clip, her curves barely hidden beneath the mechanic-branded polo shirts and tight black pants.

But Eddie had noticed. Oh, he noticed.

She was younger, sharp-tongued when she got comfortable, and when she leaned over the counter to ask if he wanted a soda? His brain short-circuited. The flirtation was playful at first, innocent enough. Harmless.

Until that day in September. Rain pounding outside. The two of them alone. Eddie leaned over the hood of a Charger he’d been elbow-deep in for hours, and Y/N wandered in with a clipboard. She cracked a joke. He smirked. And then she said, "You missed a spot."

When he asked where, she pointed to his cheek. Then wiped at it with her thumb.

The kiss that followed was messy. Desperate. His hands gripped her hips like he’d die if he let go. She pulled him by his collar into the bathroom in the back, locked the door, and for the next eleven minutes, they forgot who they were supposed to be.

And that was the beginning.

Now? It was practically routine. If business was slow, you could bet Y/N was pinned between Eddie and the wall of the employee bathroom. Or bent over his workbench, engine diagrams sliding to the floor beneath her. Sometimes, if the mood struck, he’d lift her onto the hood of whatever car he was fixing—tools forgotten, her fingers white-knuckling the edge of metal while he left fingerprints on her hips.

They didn’t talk about what it meant. Or how it felt. Or the fact that Eddie had a girlfriend.

Heather. Blonde. Preppy. Sweet, in a way Y/N could never be. She brought muffins for the boys on Fridays and kissed Eddie’s cheek when she picked him up in her little white Civic. She had no idea. Not really.

But Heather wasn’t stupid.

Twice now, she’d walked into the shop unannounced. Once just as Eddie was zipping up his pants behind the office door. Y/N had her shirt half undone, her lips flushed. She spun toward the file cabinet and muttered something about inventory while Eddie called out “Hey, babe” like nothing was wrong.

The second time, Heather had walked in just as Eddie finished pressing Y/N’s thighs apart over his toolbox bench. Y/N heard the jingle of the bell, shoved him back, and dropped behind the desk with a frantic whisper of “Fix your pants, Munson!”

Heather had blinked. Tilted her head.

“Was someone else in here?”

“Nah,” Eddie lied smoothly, wiping sweat from his brow. “Just me and the radio.”

Still. It couldn’t last forever. Y/N knew that.

She hated how her heart skipped when Eddie looked at her like she was the only girl alive. How he whispered things like, “You feel better than any girl I’ve ever had,” while pulling her panties down behind the garage door. How sometimes, after he came, he’d rest his forehead to hers and breathe like she was the only oxygen he had left.

But he always left. Got in Heather’s car. Smiled like a boyfriend should.

And Y/N was left with grease-smudged thighs, a clipboard in hand, and a growing ache in her chest she didn’t dare name.

Until the day came when the ache got too loud.

Heather arrived again, this time with cupcakes. She smiled at Y/N—genuinely. Called her “hon” and offered her one with sprinkles. Y/N’s stomach turned.

She turned back to the desk, gripping the edge, while Heather wrapped her arms around Eddie’s neck.

“I was thinking maybe we could move in together,” Heather said softly. “I found a place.”

Y/N froze.

Eddie didn’t answer right away. He glanced at Y/N. Just a flick of his eyes. Fast. But she caught it.

“I... we’ll talk about it,” he mumbled.

And Y/N knew then—knew—that she was losing him.

That night, when the shop was quiet and Heather had gone, Eddie found Y/N in the back room. She was leaning against the file cabinet, arms crossed, hair wild from humidity.

“You gonna say it?” he asked.

She didn’t look at him.

“Say what?”

“That I’m a piece of shit.”

She shrugged.

“You are. But that’s not news, Munson.”

He stepped closer. Hands in his pockets.

“Don’t want to hurt you, Red.”

She scoffed.

"Too late for that.”

They didn’t sleep together that night. Didn’t even kiss.

But the next day? The tension was worse than ever. And when Eddie yanked her behind the stack of tires during lunch break and kissed her like he was starving—Y/N didn’t stop him.

She knew she was playing with fire. She just couldn’t bring herself to put it out.

It was a slow Thursday. The kind of day where time moved thick and sticky like molasses, and the fans spinning above couldn’t cut the heat in the air—or the tension.

Eddie had been watching her all morning. Watching the way Y/N’s hips swayed as she restocked oil filters. How she licked cupcake frosting off her thumb without realizing he was watching. She wore that same tight little pencil skirt she knew drove him nuts, and he? Oh, he was already sporting grease on his jaw and a familiar ache in his jeans.

So when the others left for lunch, and the shop fell quiet?

Eddie didn’t even bother with pretense.

He tugged her into the garage—hands under her skirt before the door even shut behind them. Y/N was laughing, trying to scold him, but she never really meant it.

Not when his fingers were already slipping into her underwear.

He pushed her back onto the hood of a half-fixed Firebird, the metal warm beneath her thighs. Her shirt was halfway undone, bra pulled down, skirt hiked up around her waist. Eddie leaned over her, one hand gripping her hip, the other fisted in her hair.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he growled, rocking his hips into her.

“You—oh.. fuck—only you, Munson,” she gasped, nails dragging down his back.

And then—

CLANG.

The back door slammed.

“Yo, Eddie, you left the keys to the van in—WHAT THE FUCK?!”

They both froze.

Steve Harrington stood in the doorway, wearing sunglasses, almost dropping his coffee, and staring at the very naked truth unfolding on the hood of a Firebird.

Y/N squeaked, scrambling to pull her shirt shut. Eddie? He just turned his head, blinked at Steve, and grinned.

“Hey man,” Eddie said, totally unfazed. “You wanna join or just watch?”

“What the fuck—” Steve repeated, voice cracking.

Y/N let out a strangled noise—half shock, half a why-is-he-like-this whimper—while Eddie casually adjusted himself, leaning on the car like he wasn’t mid-thrust two seconds ago.

“Eddie!” Y/N hissed, smacking his shoulder.

“What?” he shrugged. “Stevie's cool. He looks like he’s into it. Look at him. Mouth open. Coffee shaking. That’s not a no.”

Steve blinked. “I—I came for keys! Not a damn porno!”

“You sure?” Eddie teased, licking his thumb and dragging it slowly down Y/N’s stomach, just to make Steve flinch. “’Cause we could always use an extra set of hands...”

Steve made a strangled noise and turned on his heel so fast he nearly knocked over the mop bucket.

“I hate it here. I’m going to church.”

The door slammed behind him.

Silence.

Then She slapped Eddie’s chest, breathless and red-faced. “You idiot!”

“You liked it,” he said smugly.

“I didn’t say I didn’t,” she snapped back, cheeks burning.

Eddie just smirked and kissed her hard.

“Next time, I’m locking the damn door.”

She huffed, but pulled him back down by the collar anyway

Steve’s POV

Steve Harrington had come to the auto shop for one reason.

One. Reason.

Grab the goddamn keys Eddie left in the back of his van. That was it. In and out. No drama. Maybe he’d swing by Scoops for a free cone on the way out, flirt with the girl at the counter, feel like he still had it after his most recent dating disaster—a yoga instructor who ghosted him mid-downward dog.

Easy. Breezy. Low-effort day.

Except no one told him he was walking into Eddie Munson’s Grease Lightning XXX Edition.

The second he stepped inside and rounded the corner—he saw it.

Y/N. Gorgeous, red-haired secretary Y/N, bent backwards over the hood of a Firebird, shirt undone, skirt around her waist.

And Eddie. That smug, curly-haired bastard? Balls deep and smirking like he was filming a scene for a VHS tape called Backdoor Body Shop.

Steve almost dropped his coffee. “Yo, Eddie, you left the keys to the van in—WHAT THE FUCK?!”

And then—and then—Eddie had the audacity to ask if he wanted to join. Like they were ordering pizza. Like this was casual.

Steve spun on his heel and practically bolted out the door.

His heart was racing. His face was on fire. His brain was running like a Windows 95 dial-up modem with a virus. And below the belt?

Yeah. Awkward boner city.

He made it three steps toward his car. Three. Before he stopped. Dead in his tracks.

His hands were shaking.

His pulse was thudding.

And that image—Y/N gasping, Eddie gripping her hips, the sound she made—it was seared into his damn skull like a branding iron.

Steve stared at the keys on the pavement.

He’d had a really bad streak with women lately. Like, “rom-com protagonist who gets rejected at the altar” level bad. He was tired. He was horny. And clearly, the universe had handed him a front-row seat to something… fun.

And Eddie had offered. Casually. Like it wouldn’t even be weird.

Steve looked over his shoulder at the door. Then up at the sky.

“…fuck it.”

He turned around and walked right back inside.

---

Eddie had Y/N on the hood again, shirt half-open, his hands under her skirt when the door creaked open.

“...Steve?” She blinked and tried To move

Eddie looked over his shoulder, eyebrows up, cheeks flushed. “Thought you ran off to confess your sins.”

Steve cleared his throat. “Thought about it.”

“Changed your mind?”

“I mean…” Steve scratched the back of his neck. “...you did say you needed a third set of hands.”

Eddie’s grin went feral.

“Ohh, Harrington. We’re gonna ruin you.”

Her jaw dropped—but her thighs instinctively squeezed together.

Steve stepped forward slowly, hands trembling just slightly as he reached for his belt. “Go easy on me.”

Eddie turned back to Y/N, voice low.

“You okay with this, sweetheart?”

She bit her lip. Her eyes flicked between them—and lord help her, the idea of both of them, hands and mouths and that slow, sexy smirk Steve had… it sent shivers everywhere.

She nodded. “Yeah. Let’s wreck him.”Three’s a Crowd, But Who’s Complaining?”

Steve couldn’t quite believe where he was standing.

One second he was dropping his damn coffee and running like a flustered virgin, the next… he had Y/N—Y/N!—on her knees in front of him, red hair wild, mascara already smudged, and lips stretched wide around his cock.

“Jesus Christ—” he choked, gripping the edge of the hood behind him.

Eddie leaned beside him, arms folded, watching like a man at a drive-in—except this show was way better than popcorn and car chases.

“Fuck, look at you, Harrington,” Eddie purred, licking his lips. “Didn’t know you were packin’ like that. No wonder you walk around like you’ve got back problems.”

Steve couldn’t answer. He was too busy trying to keep his soul in his body while y/N gagged prettily around his length, tears beading at the corners of her eyes—but she didn’t stop. No, she took it, pushing deeper, letting out soft, sinful little moans like she loved choking on it.

Eddie crouched down beside her, one hand stroking her hair, voice low and teasing.

“Good girl, huh? You like showing off for him?”

Y/N nodded with his cock still in her mouth, humming just to feel Steve twitch.

“She’s fuckin’ filthy, man,” Eddie kept going, grinning as he watched her hands fist in Steve’s shirt. “Loves being watched. Loves being full. Loves messy. You’re gonna ruin her makeup, Stevie.”

Y/N gave a particularly loud slurp, and Steve whimpered. He had never whimpered before in his life, and yet—here we were.

“Holy shit,” he gasped, one hand moving to Y/N’s hair before pausing, unsure.

Eddie noticed. “You can touch her, Steve. She likes it rough. She’ll let you know if it’s too much.”

With Eddie’s encouragement ringing in his ears, Steve threaded his fingers into her red hair and guided her, hips stuttering as he accidentally hit the back of her throat.

“F-fuck, sorry—”

She moaned in response, eyes fluttering closed, and Eddie laughed.

“She’s sorry you stopped,” he muttered, palming himself lazily through his jeans. “Isn’t that right, Red?”

She pulled off with a wet gasp, a trail of spit connecting her lips to Steve’s cock, her eyes shining.

“Don’t be gentle,” she whispered. “I can take it.”

Steve blinked like he’d been slapped. “Oh my God.”

Eddie smirked and stood up, hand coming to wrap around Steve’s shoulder.

“Welcome to the dark side, Harrington. We spit, we bite, and no one’s pants survive.”

Steve was too far gone to care. She had already taken him in again, bobbing her head with purpose while Eddie reached down to spread her ass, teasing the slick mess gathering between her thighs.

“Once she’s nice and soaked,” Eddie murmured, voice filthy in Steve’s ear, “you’re gonna bend her over this car, and we’re gonna share.”

Steve let out a broken sound somewhere between a moan and a prayer.

Y/N gagged again. And again.

And still kept going.

And Steve?

He was starting to think coming for keys might’ve been the best decision of his

She barely had time to catch her breath before Eddie had her up on her feet and bent over the hood of the car. The metal was warm under her skin, but not as hot as her flushed cheeks or the dripping heat between her thighs.

“Hands flat, baby,” Eddie murmured, guiding her down. “Show Stevie how pretty you arch that back.”

Steve stood frozen for a second, flushed red from chest to hairline. “She’s… fuck, she’s dripping.”

Eddie grinned. “Told you she likes being watched.”

She moaned when she felt Eddie’s fingers tease between her legs, spreading her open. “So wet already,” he muttered, tongue practically hanging out as he looked back at Steve. “You ever see something this perfect and just wanna wreck it?”

Steve stepped closer. His cock twitched, still slick with spit, and when he brushed it against her lips again—Y/N whimpered.

“Let me taste you again,” she begged, voice ragged and desperate.

Eddie’s grin turned feral. “You heard her, golden boy. Feed it to her.”

Steve didn't need more convincing. He pushed past her lips, his hand in her hair again, more confident now—thrusting slow and deep while Eddie knelt behind her and dragged his tongue through her folds like a man starved.

Y/N gasped around Steve’s cock as Eddie moaned against her, tongue curling and flicking in ways that made her legs shake. The sensation of both of them—one in her mouth, one on her pussy—was overwhelming.

“Fuck, she’s clenching,” Eddie mumbled, breath hot against her. “She’s close, Stevie. Feel her moaning around you?”

Steve groaned, fingers tightening. “She’s—Jesus Christ—she’s gagging on me while she’s coming.”

Eddie didn’t stop. He licked her through it, two fingers curling inside her as she trembled, sobbing around Steve’s cock with messy tears streaming down her cheeks.

When she finally pulled back, panting, lips swollen and slick, she looked up at them both with that wicked, satisfied smile.

“Switch.”

Eddie blinked. “What?”

“I want Steve inside,” she said, voice rough. “I want you in my mouth while he fucks me.”

Eddie practically growled. “Yes ma’am.”

They moved like predators with a shared kill—Y/N guided back onto the hood, ass up, Eddie sliding in front of her as Steve lined up behind.

The second Steve pushed inside—slow and thick and fucking deep—She cried out and nearly collapsed. He was big, stretching her so perfectly she forgot how to breathe.

“F-fuck—Steve—”

“She tight?” Eddie rasped, watching her eyes roll back.

“So tight,” Steve gritted out, hips rocking into her with shaky control.

Eddie leaned in, feeding her his cock slowly, one hand on the back of her head.

“There’s my girl,” he cooed, voice low and dirty. “Stuffed at both ends, just how you like it.”

Y/N couldn’t answer. Her mouth was full. Her body was full. Her mind? Gone. Absolutely obliterated.

They found a rhythm, Steve pounding into her from behind while Eddie fucked her mouth slow and deep, watching her take it all. Filthy praise passed between them—Eddie calling her his favorite toy, Steve whispering how beautiful she looked all fucked out.

And when she came again—tightening, shaking, moaning around Eddie’s cock?

They both followed. Steve buried deep with a strangled groan. Eddie gripped her hair and spilled across her tongue.

Silence hit like a dropped wrench.

Heavy breathing. Sweat-slicked skin. Y/N still bent over, boneless, between the two of them.

“Holy shit,” Steve panted, half-laughing. “I’m never gonna be able to look at this car the same way again.”

Eddie chuckled darkly, tucking himself back in. “You’re welcome.”

Y/N turned her head, face flushed and wet and smug.

“You boys always this fun on lunch break?”

Eddie leaned down to kiss her neck. “Only when you’re the main course.”

[twistedpink]

Manipulative!Jade?

Maybe he plays mind games with reader until the roles suddenly switch around on him??

(btw I love your writing 💛, but I 100% just googled adjectives until something clicked. Didn't want to use the same things)

I WENT A LITTLE OVERBOARD

Your weird manager tm (an eel man in a chiseled man-man suit) has no real right to ban your boyfriends from the workplace, but you do see what you look for, and as a observer it is exceptionally easy for Jade to point out missteps. Dress code and volume are two of his favourite policies to call out- But the boyfriends never mattered, they’re just wallets and traps for the big fish now. Your new and improved passion project is figuring out why this guy hates you!

Manipulative!Jade that makes you drinks off of those “secret menus” in front of customers who want it after rejecting their order, no matter how made up it is or how often you deny his “friendly gifts”. You could say (to his face!) that you’ll never eat something he’s made for fear of whatever the hell he did to it, but he won’t stop. He likes to see you flip between the choices, that face you make is to die for <3

Manipulative!Jade that’s probably not officially certified for this gig- But that’s exactly what it is, a gig, and if he can fry an egg that’s really all you need for this “fine establishment”. He could do better, a lot better than this high turnover satellite joint. He’s the longest standing employee here, so if the creep can feel it he’s probably high off nostalgia. (At least that’s what your coworkers say) You know better, you know him and the actual hard on he gets “dissecting the scum of the earth”. You felt it, the last time he kissed along the column of your neck in his too-clean car. Promising you a ticket out of here that’ll never come.

Manipulative!Jade doesn’t put the effort into lovebombing or being the white knight, you’re too smart for that. This game you play is between the two of you. Not some victim that he shapes (he could find someone for that anywhere), you’re different. Not quite special, just different. He’s obsessed with your fight- biting against his fingers when he tries to ease them towards your mouth, crushing his sensitive inner thigh beneath your heel.. At times he thinks you’ll take the chance to bite his tongue off when you kiss. If you want it rough so badly, then he’ll play rough til’ your heart’s content :)

In the end you did find out why Jade “hates” you (yay!), he’s a massive idiot in love (awh! Or the closest he can get to it). At least you’ve found a partner that can’t be kicked out, and you definitely don’t miss the other guys you dated, you’re just not sure how to get rid of this one? Or even if you want to? He’s practically ingrained himself into your brain, and maybe that was his goal the whole time. Maybe you’re just into massive weirdos, but that’s for future you to deal with. (Hopefully with the help of an engagement ring! Maybe then you’ll have enough money to get out of this hellhole) <3

[oftenwantedafton]

contact | arnold/dispatch

He knows the job pretty well by now; has been doing it for nearly a year. So it’s not that he needs the guidance from Dispatch, precisely; more that he craves it. Another human voice on the line.

It was the dispatcher himself, that velvet rich voice of his issuing commands or, better yet, those infrequent moments of praise. He’s certain it’s all part of a protocol of speech, words that the man has been instructed to dollop like whipped cream on a slice of cherry pie, but he’s far into the delusion that it’s specially gifted for him alone, a concept he allows himself only once he’s home, behind closed doors.

Explicit content, 3.4k words, new 6/22/25

ao3 link

Evenings are the loneliest times for Arnie.

When the staff and customers are long gone and the noises fade from boisterous chatter and bustling commerce to the hum of electrical current through the wires and the creak of metal as it contracts and expands with shifting temperatures; the sharp clack as his fingers input codes into the keyboard and the satisfied little computer beeps that almost sound amused by his repairs.

He knows the job pretty well by now; has been doing it for nearly a year. So it’s not that he needs the guidance from Dispatch, precisely; more that he craves it. Another human voice on the line. Something to counteract all these lifeless alloys and circuits and cables. But that’s not quite all there is to it; at least, not anymore. Intially, maybe, it had been the companionship in general he’d desired. Then at some point that had shifted. It was the dispatcher himself, that velvet rich voice of his issuing commands or, better yet, those infrequent moments of praise. He’s certain it’s all part of a protocol of speech, words that the man has been instructed to dollop like whipped cream on a slice of cherry pie, but he’s far into the delusion that it’s specially gifted for him alone, a concept he allows himself only once he’s home, behind closed doors.

His eyes flick more than once to the communication console, hopeful he’s missed the light signaling Fazbear Entertainment’s lead operator was attempting to speak with him, perhaps when he’d left the security office to head for the vending machines. The remains of that snack are seated beside his right elbow: a can of Fizzy Faz Cola that’s long since lost its chill, and the crumpled wrapper of a Chica Crunch Bar, some of the chocolate still melted onto the silver lining, one forgotten remnant of puffed rice tucked beneath the seam. It’s warm inside the office; the electronics generate a tremendous amount of heat. Other parts of the facility are air conditioned, the patrons well taken care of, but he doesn’t have access to such luxuries. There’s only a desk fan that does little to circulate the stale air inside the office. He wishes he could shrug out of his required coveralls; the top portion, at least. It’s not like anyone would see him clad in the white tank beneath.

But it’s company policy to wear the uniform, and Arnie follows it to the letter, no matter how much it might be detrimental to his own well-being. Case in point, he’s closing on hour thirty six of this current shift. Numerous other technicians have come and gone before him, declaring the task load unreasonable and the overtime monstrous, but he doesn’t complain; at least, not too loudly. The few times he had dared voice a contrary opinion had been met with some very, very thinly veiled threats to terminate his employment without a reference. So he’s gone quiet. A quiet man working in the quiet evening hours. He thinks his eyes must be quite bloodshot by now. He can feel the weight of weariness pressing on his eyelids, his body demanding rest. He nearly dozes off a few times, jerking himself straighter in the swivel chair to find alertness, silently chiding himself for slacking. The sooner he gets this done, the sooner he can go home.

And what waits for him at home? Not much. Whom, you might also ask? No one. Arnie lives alone in a one bedroom apartment in a section of town that’s questionable at best. The kind of place you don’t really want to be caught walking the streets after dark unless you want to part ways with your wallet. Deadbolts are a must. He doesn’t have much to his name in the way of possessions, nothing of any significant quality or value, but that doesn’t mean he wants them stolen, either. He keeps telling himself it’s only temporary. He’ll keep saving up all this overtime and put it towards a nicer place someday. Someday: that distant shining beacon of promise, eternally guiding him forward.

The lie is easier to swallow at certain times; terribly transparent at others. Right now he’s simply too exhausted to care. He’s got an unmade twin bed waiting for him. He doesn’t think he’ll even waste time showering when he gets back, just drop face first onto the pillow and let the blissful oblivion of slumber overtake him.

At last he finishes his work, tossing his tools back into the case and clearing the desk, making sure to dispose of the remains of his meal in the wastebin. He slaps the light switch on the way out the door, dimming the interior of the office as he exits. It’s a decent length walk back to the company van parked at the rear entrance; the building is quite large. But he’s got a little pep in his step now, buoyed up by the knowledge that he’s almost free, his shift finally over.

For one heart stopping moment he almost thinks he’s forgotten the keys to the Fazbear Entertainment work van in the office as he settles behind the wheel, but a further pat down and rummage reveals they’ve worked themselves deep into one of his pockets, poking through a new hole beginning to unravel at the seam. He’ll have to take care of that later. Damages to company property mean fines. Deductions in pay. He certainly doesn’t want that. It’s why he takes such good care of the van, making sure to keep up with the maintenance. Regular oil changes. Balanced tire pressures. A routine thorough cleaning inside and out. It was about due for the latter, now that he thinks of it.

The vehicle engine rumbles to life as he turns the key in the ignition. He adjusts the rearview mirror, necessary with his current slouched position. He can’t quite find the energy to adjust his posture, the newfound burst that had initially fueled his egress already dissipated from his trek to the van. Now he just needs to keep his eyes on the road. There won’t be a lot of traffic at this late hour, but the path winds quite a bit, snaking back and forth before finally straightening once he leaves the establishment far behind. He turns on the radio, met with a burst of static before he finds a clear signal, a contemporary rock tune with lots of electric guitar and thumping drums. Not his taste, but it will help keep him awake.

Dispatch’s voice suddenly cuts through the song’s chorus and he hurriedly fumbles to shut the radio off.

“Arnie, are you there?”

“Yes,” he croaks, his throat dry. He clears it and tries again. “Yes, I’m here.”

“Did you finish up that job yet?”

“Yes, I just left. I’m done for the evening.”

“Good. I’ve had the Uppers breathing down my neck.” Uppers was a shortened form of Upper Management, a term used by those lower on the totem pole to address their superiors. Despite the large divides between employees, this was one that most were united on: a collective sort of deference that sat on the border between dislike and grudging respect.

“There were a few hiccups along the way, but I got them all sorted out.”

“Good job. I knew you could do it.”

Arnold squirms in his seat a little at the praise. It cascades over his skin, warm and pleasant. The man’s voice was appealing to begin with, but when it was combined with words like these…the technician shifts behind the wheel again. He’s never met the dispatcher in person, leading him to wonder just what that face on the other end of the line might look like. Clean shaven? Intense eyes? A strong jaw and sharp cheekbones? Tidy side-parted hair with perhaps just a single strand out of place, dripping down over his forehead, begging to be brushed back?

Oh, Arnie. You really are losing it.

He’s struggled with this one sided sort of crush for awhile now. He’s not even sure how it had started; it had just dawned on him one day after he’d gotten home, standing beneath the spray of the shower. He likes the voice. He likes imagining who might be making those sounds, but he also likes the mystery of it. The versatility. Dispatch can be anyone. Anything he wants, in the privacy of his thoughts. His desires. The first time he works up the nerve to rub one out thinking about him, replaying their earlier conversation in his mind, he comes so hard he has to rest his forehead against the side of the shower stall, his chest heaving. He’d been feeling a little guilty afterwards, especially the next time they’d spoken, but that shame had quickly been erased by a fresh wave of lust. He’s painted that shower wall more than a few times since then. His fist and belly while lying in bed. He doesn’t even know the man’s name, only his title, so that’s the one he pants and moans and curses as he comes undone.

His cock shifts at the memories now, straining against the seam of his work pants. One hand moves off the wheel and squeezes firmly, trying to calm that nagging need. Not in the work truck. He can’t. They’re not monitored or anything, but…no. He has to wait. As soon as he gets home. With those newest lines of praise echoing in his mind.

“Arnie? You still there?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Long shift. Thirty six hours, you know…”

“You’ve got your eye on that year end bonus, I’ll bet.” There’s a bit of smug teasing in his tone. Mocking him. A paltry twenty five dollars. Hardly worth all this lost sleep.

“What? No, I…” He lets his words fade to nothingness, the half-voiced protest dying in his throat. Once Dispatch was convinced of something, there was no point in arguing. He’d never win.

“Listen, there’s some new tech you need to pick up for your next assignment.”

“Can’t I do it in the morning?” He knows how whiny he sounds. He can’t help it. The fatigue. Now this sudden demand for release. Pathetic.

“Afraid not. Uppers want you to get started on this project as soon as possible. This is a big contract, Arnie. The biggest one Fazbear Entertainment has ever had. We need our best on the job.”

Another bit of praise helps soothe his scowl over the request to return to headquarters, but it certainly does nothing to assuage that raging need below his waistline that he’s still battling.

“What is it?” He asks warily.

“A tool you’ll need to access the interior of a building. We’ve ordered some schematics from a contractor who’s gone radio silent. You need to locate them and deliver them back to us ASAP.”

The technician blinks, peering at the display on his wristwatch. It’s so late. He still doesn’t understand why he needs to go right now. Surely the company doesn't expect him to continue working without a break?

“I’m sorry, I just don’t think it’s safe for me to keep working right now. Let me get a few hours’ rest and then I’ll—”

The dispatcher’s tone loses its friendly demeanor instantly. “—Perhaps you’ve misunderstood me. This isn’t a request. It’s an order. Return to HQ.”

“But I—”

“—Now, Arnie. I’ll be delivering the device personally into your hands, so you’d better not keep me waiting.”

He swallows thickly. Wait. Did Dispatch really just say they’d be meeting in person? Face to face?

“Confirm you’re going to follow these instructions.”

“Yeah. Yes, I’ll be there.” He can hear the nervous waver in his own voice. Suddenly his fatigue has been forgotten. His foot drops a little more weight onto the gas pedal and the van accelerates.

“Good. See you soon. Garage twelve. Dispatch out.”

***

Arnie hits the remote switch to raise the garage door as he’d been instructed fifteen minutes ago, pulling inside the bay slowly. The door closes again as soon as he’s cleared it. He usually just chooses one at random to park in, whichever one is closest and has space for the van. He doesn’t think he’s ever been inside this specific one, though.

The lighting is poor; so poor as to be nearly nonexistent, in truth, the back of the garage blanketed in impenetrable darkness. He’s used to working in reduced lighting conditions, due to factors like budget saving methods after business hours or areas requiring repair to the power supply itself, but this is taking it to a whole other level. He steps out of the vehicle slowly, sliding down from the raised step to the concrete below, his work boots landing with a soft thud. Now that the headlights have been extinguished, he can see even less of his surroundings. He should have taken a flashlight with him. There’s one in the center console. Another in the glovebox and several in the back with the other tools. He could still retrieve one, of course, but that means wasting more time. Further delaying this impromptu meeting. So he takes a step forward instead, in the direction of where he assumes a door leading to the inside of the building must be, straight ahead, deeper into that shadowed void, leaving the barely illuminated fluorescents overhead behind.

“Arnie.”

He stops walking immediately, his breath hitching. The size of the garage makes sound travel deceivingly. Dispatch might be some distance away. Or he might be right beside him. It’s impossible to discern with any sense of accuracy.

“Yes?” So loud. Too loud. Clumsy. Not like that dulcet satin that spills from the other man’s lips, coiling around him. His body aches from exhaustion; from dire want.

“Don’t move.”

“Okay.” He closes his eyes. They’re useless anyway. He can’t see anything.

“You got here quickly. Didn’t obey the speed limit, did you?” Oh, he sounds so close. “Wouldn’t do to incur a speeding fine for F.E., would it? Then we’d have to dock your wages. A real tragedy, when you’ve been working so hard.” The last word makes him whimper, a pitiful high pitched keen.

Arnie licks his lips, trying to work some moisture back into his mouth. “You said to get here as soon as possible.”

“That’s right, I did, didn’t I? And you obeyed every instruction. Just like you always do. Such a reliable employee. Faithful. Loyal. Like a dog…”

He hears footsteps then, a sharp click of what might be dress shoes against the concrete flooring, followed by the sound of something being set down, a slight click reminiscent of the handle of an attaché case falling to one side. He sucks in a sharp gasp of air, trying to brace himself, but it’s woefully insufficient. A hand curls into the buttoned coveralls over his chest, grabbing and pushing him until his back collides with one of the cement supports of the parking garage bay. His breath leaves his body in a rush. Contact, at last. Touch. That same hand now snaking down to his crotch, an appreciative little hiss escaping Dispatch’s lips before he crushes them against Arnie’s.

We must be nearly the same height, he thinks absently. The other man doesn’t seem to need to adjust much, their faces aligning smoothly. Clean shaven. He’d been right about that assumption. Full lips. Wet. God, so warm and wet. He drinks from them greedily. Melts into them. He knows his own cheeks are covered with scratchy new growth, the result of that overlong shift. But none of that matters now. He reaches tentatively to touch the other man’s cheeks, stroking past sideburns into hair that’s soft and silky. His own lies in greasy clumps. How wretched he must feel against this sublimely smooth, polished creature.

Yet Dispatch doesn’t seem daunted by Arnie’s disheveled appearance at all. He’s worked open the front of those coveralls with expert precision, diving beneath his briefs to stroke at his leaking cock, smoothing the precum slick over the crown and frenulum, his answering moan echoing loudly in the garage.

“How long have you been stroking yourself thinking about me, hmmm?”

Arnie doesn’t answer. He’s got a mouthful of the man’s dress shirt saturated in cologne stuffed in his mouth as he sinks his teeth into the space between his neck and shoulder, earning a raspy little sigh from the other employee. He smells divine, like he’s just stepped out of the shower. Clean. Fragrant. Notes of citrus and sandalwood. He tightens his fingers in his hair and tugs, painting a line across the arch of the man’s throat with his tongue. A louder sigh this time. He wants to hear more. He wants to know every sweet sound that sinful mouth can produce. Hardly believing his daring, he’s worked up the courage to caress the front of the dispatcher’s trousers. Scratches his nails along the seam, scraping along the bulge beneath it. Another hiss of pleasure.

“How long, Arnie? You still haven’t answered my question. How long…?”

“Weeks. Months. I don’t know,” he confesses, working his lips along the man’s jaw while he tugs on his zipper. “Is there even a device to pick up? Or did you just want…”

A soft chuckle tickles his cheek. “Oh, yes, there is. That’s wasn’t a ruse. You’re going to start that job right after you finish this one. Fuck,” he curses when the technician finally manages to pull his cock free. His hips lurch forward, bringing him closer to the other man’s erection he hasn’t ceased pumping since this encounter began. There’s an awkward collision of fingers and slickened dicks and then oh, they’re pressed together just right, two hot columns of aroused flesh lined up, encircled with alternating cages of first Dispatch’s fingers, then Arnie’s.

The technician feels like he could bust at any moment, but as much as he craves release, he doesn’t want this to end, so he grits his teeth, sucks and worries at Dispatch’s bottom lip, then the thumb of the free hand slotted into his mouth, lapping at the pad and curling around the digit, moving his head back and forth, applying more and more suction. His cock throbs, recognizing these movements, craving the same to be done to it. He wouldn’t last long on the other’s man tongue; not when he’d be whispering filth to him while sucking him off, that voice, that fucking angelic, demonic, rapturous tone huffed against his body, teasing and cajoling and wrenching the orgasm from his body. God, he’s so close right now, he doesn’t think he can take much more…

“Cum for me Arnie. Cum…Good job. Oh, well done, Arnie. That’s it. Just like that…”

A surge of heat pools in his spine before his balls tighten and he erupts over the man’s fingers, then his own, a breathy groan the only warning before he feels another load spilling over his still twitching cock.

Eventually the two men’s hands still. He wipes his off on his briefs, then fumbles to close the coveralls. A rustle of clothing indicates the other man is doing the same. Arnie isn’t sure what to do now. What to say. He needs guidance.

“I have to put the security cameras back on. Raise the lights,” Dispatch murmurs against his ear. So that’s why it was so dark. He should have figured that out sooner. But he’s tired. Not quite thinking clearly. If he’d thought himself exhausted before, he’s bone weary now post-orgasm.

He feels something pressed against his chest. His fingers curl around the edges. Rectangular. A case of some sort.

“There’s a device inside of here called a Data Diver. Take special care of this, Arnie. There isn’t another like it.”

“How do I use it?”

“I’ll issue you specific instructions once you get there.”

“Where is there?”

“That’s right, I haven’t told you yet. Murray’s Costume Manor. You’re familiar with it?”

“Yes, I’ve heard of it.” It was a large factory and showroom that manufactured and displayed animatronics and other assorted high tech products. He can’t imagine what’s so important that it necessitates him going there in the middle of the night.

“Head on over there now. I’ll be in touch shortly.”

“But I…”

“Don’t think, Arnie. Just do. That’s what you’re good at.” Dispatch’s warm breath briefly caresses his stubbled cheek, then vanishes, the sounds of his footsteps receding.

He’s alone once more.

[zurkdesign]

Infants Clothes Pack

Available for the base game.

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Content that is included in this pack:

Dress Ruffle for Infants

EP17 Blouse Spider for Infants

EP09 Dress Sweater for Infants

Fleece Set

EP11 PJs for Infants

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[defsiarte]

I highly recommend joining Cara right now!

It’s a new portfolio/social media hybrid website made by artists, for artists, as a way to network, find jobs, and see art. Born from ArtStation, Behance, DeviantArt, Instagram, and countless other websites’ implementing predatory AI policies, it aims to fill a gap left in the community for those who don’t wish to support that stuff.

To me at least, it really captures the better parts of being on DA in the early 2010’s. Account setup is very streamlined, your feed is all art and no ads, and the community is very active (Due to a huge exodus of users moving there from Instagram due to Meta’s new AI policy).

The app has all the same functionality as the main site too! You’re able to customize your timeline, mark your work availability, and even toggle your profile between just being a regular timeline and exclusively a portfolio of your strongest works (I have nothing up though bc I just made my acc lol).

A lot of new websites have popped up in the past couple years due to how awful and predatory tech giants have become, and personally I’m all for it. I don’t want an internet where everyone uses the same 5 websites to get all their content. Anyway yeah I highly recommend Cara.

You can see the official explanation of their features and stuff here.

Obligatory plug to own acc