#If minimum wage you'd like to make

[i-scan-your-poems]

scansion:

◡ – ◡ ◡ – ◡ – ◡ – If minimum wage you'd like to make, ◡ – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ – This ancient quiz you'll have to take. – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ – Step right up, but be prepared. – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ ◡ – Those who fail are poverty-snared. – ◡ – Question One! – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ If your labor proves most fruitful, – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ Raking quarters by the bootful, – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ – Who should excess profits reap, – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ – Me the wolf or you the sheep? – ◡ – Question Two! – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ – If, by merit, you're made pope, – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ – What will be your fervent hope? – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ – Law and order justly paired? ◡ – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ – Or mercy and the guilty spared? – ◡ – Question Three! – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ If a train should leave Topeka – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ Driven by a solar squeaker, – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ – How then should the cat behave? – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ – Give it milk or give it grave? – ◡ – Question Four! – ◡ – ◡ – ◡ ◡ – ◡ Do you have a criminal record?

metrical form: tetrameter, sometimes iambic and sometimes trochaic. the "question one/two/three/four" refrain between quatrains is a cretic monometer line.

rhyme scheme: AABB quatrains; the final quatrain ends abruptly after a single line.

other notes: quatrains two and four have a shift from feminine line-endings in the first half of the quatrain, to masculine line-endings in the second half of the quatrain.

this is for a part-time job as a barista

[combinecremator]

people on this website flat out do not understand what makes someone "bourgeoise" or even just rich. this is what people on this website sound like sometimes

[mosquitinho]

being a brazilian who mainly navigates the American Internet is soooo wild cuz like. you can see so clearly what a major privilege it is just to exist in the united states. do usamericans even realize that. being dirt poor broke in the usa is such an upgrade from being a regular working class guy in the 3rd world do u ppl even realize thisss.

[tardis--dreams]

Got my employment contract and it sounds so annoying already

[casinocarpediem]

▪︎■☆ Новое Mолоко 🐮🥛 ☆■▪︎

(Translation: New Milk)

☆ 🔞!!NOT SAFE FOR WORK!!🔞

☆ male! subtop! Francis Mosses / male! dombottom! Reader

☆ overstimulation if ya squint a lil, milking, breeding, dumbification, passing out, belly bulge (If your not into this, look away!! 👻👻)

☆ implied Russian speaking Francis (translated from google translate and research for needed accuracy, however, any form of critique or correction definetely is allowed!)

☆ short (I think???)

☆ author has played Not My Neighbor

°○☆nsfw under the cut☆○°

You and Francis had a thing. And, fuck, for a minimum wage worker who barely gets any kind of rest at all, he's fucking good at what he does. He's a big fan of milking. Not his job, no, he could rant about how shitty it can be despite not wanting to get a new one (A/N: so real) but he's a fan of milking. Just the other kind of milking.

The first tim you two had sex, he was pretty sheepish about it, yeah. He didn't know if you prefered topping or bottoming so he settled for a handjob. You did the same as well. Until you both got used to each other and realized that he was pretty flexible. He'd do whatever you'd want to do, whatever you had in store, as long as if it wasn't too much for either of you. He loves fucking but he surely isn't a sex devient. Somewhere in the middle. Pliant to whatever you to had planned. But recently, he may or may not have discovered a new kink. Somethig that made his legs flex and his stamina increase and the gooey, warm, and fuzzy gears in his head grind back to life to keep on going. The last time you two had sex, there was now no condom, and he was pounding you into the bed that you swore Isaack would definetely send a formally written complain, persuasive enough for the both of you to not have such intense, hot, steamy sex for the next few months, (He's a reporter after all, have to respect the man informing the people, and he definetely has a way with words).

Humming, groaning, a little against your neck. You swore it was like a kitten, as if he was purring in a way. You pulled his hair as per usual and with a louder grunt his dark brown eyes roll up just a slight and flutter, closing shut as he fills you to the brim with his warm baby batter. Shaking, sweating, and biting his lip when he just keeps on cumming until theres nothing more to give. Or is there?

What he didn't expect, was when you suddenly whispered in the midst of him balls deep inside you,

"Thats it... good boy, you fuckin slut... Cum in me, keep milkin' yourself f'me"

Ah shit, he swore something inside of him just snapped loose. With the way he shivered violently, and as your hand loosened on his sweaty brown hair he moves again. Oh how odd, after a few rounds, the last one being penetration, he's always so tired, opting to give you a handjob or finger you if you didnt get a taste of your climax but shit. If this wasn't hot then what was?!

When you had basically degraded him to milk his balls dry you didn't mean literally, but fuck. This was so appealing, that your little milk boy had his quirks.

You look down at yourself seeing the bulge appearing on your abdoment everytime he thrusts in and god does it make you feel dizzy. Your hard dick, leaking as well just begging to cum while Francis gasps and shudders a little more, oh he looks so dumb. Trying to do as he's told. To keep milking himself. Milking himself for you. Just for motherfucking you. It keeps fuzzy sparks inside of his brain that has him smiling and drooling against your chest.

"Awe, what an adorable little cow you are... Milking your-...yourself for me... Giving me every ounce of that sweet sweet milk of yours, hmm? You wanna give me your milk Francis? You wanna fucking cum in me again?"

He feels so lightheaded that he smiles dumbly at the idea and nods as if his head is too heavy, full of warm cream. Muttering several words in russian mixed in with english as he nods slowly, trembling as his cock, still hard and moving perfectly against every spot inside of you.

"Please please please К-Куколка please... fuck fuckk- let me cum... inside... inside... cum inside please please milk me- oh... П-Пожалуйста... З-...Золотце... Пожалуйста..."

The pathetic, brown haired man sobs. Pawing at your sides like an injured little puppy. Begging so prettily, who could deny those eyes of his? all teary and tired. Small blobs of salty water dripping down his eyebags which were now disappearing, thanks to yourself for keeping his sleep schedule normal again after years of nap malnutrition.

After a few more moments of Francis groaning so softly against your ear, you feel yourself about to cum too, and when you order it directly, he really does come undone. Panting like a dog in heat while nails dig against his back skin. All the while he buries himself deep inside of you once again and fills you up with a second load of his fluids that it's practically drooling out of your hole. You hiss as well, shutting your eyes with a shudder as your dick spurts out a thick white rope of cum, coating Francis' stomach and your chest. Fuck.

Francis pants, collapsing on you. You gently push him to the side and just watch him catch his breath. Eyes closed, skin warm and sweaty while he's still inside you. All soft. But its not uncomfortable. At least now, you definetely know how you can abuse this new found information with your lovely boyfriend.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

"My Sugar Mommy"

MODERN AU ABBY ONESHOT (Sugar Mommy Abby Anderson x Fem! Reader)

Contents: Smut, oral sex, strap-on sex, use of the term "Mommy", kind of angsty, bitter ending, older Abby, feminine college student reader, age gap between reader and Abby(reader is in her twenties, both are consenting adults!), seemingly unrequited feelings, THIS ISN'T PROOFREAD so there are probaby a few grammar mistakes Word Count: 3k

Description: When you're working some minimum wage job in college and money has you stressed, you resort to what feels like a laughable option: finding a sugar mommy. When said sugar mommy is the woman of your dreams, you end up worse off. You fall for Abby Anderson, and that was the one rule you promised you wouldn't break.

How you got into this predicament, you'd never want to say out loud to anyone who knew you. Neither family nor friends, not even the ones who knew the depths of your soul in ways that only she can reach. Those people who you seemed so close to were only brushing against your heart in ways that Abby had enveloped you, the ways she absolutely corrupted your once so sweet personality into her own insatiable sugar baby.

You were a simple girl with simple needs before you met her on that wretched website. You majored in English because you loved to write, and you wished to someday publish and get your name out into people's minds. You came from an average middle-class household, and struggling wasn't impossible, but you never knew the feeling of truly struggling financially until your sophomore year of college.

Your freshman year at your new university was tough, sure. However, you never had to resort to eating Maruchan on the regular. You never had to say no to hang-outs with your friends because you didn't have enough gas in your car. And you certainly never had a thought in that sweet little head of yours that you would ever need to go to a website like Sugarbabies.com to make ends meet. Things just seem to get more difficult as you become more financially independent, though. Even the miserable job at the gas station 10 minutes away from your university that you seemed to be working at nonstop was barely paying your living expenses.

At first, you truly considered Onlyfans. But your friends talked you out of it. That was a silly idea even for you, who was probably as poor as the dirt between the grass. They suggested something that could spare you some dignity: sugarbabying. You initially laughed off the idea, but as you found yourself struggling more and more along with homework toppling over you, you found yourself resorting to the last option. And that is how you met Abby Anderson.

Abby wasn't as old as most sugar parents; she was maybe 45, and she was extremely fit. When she initially sent you a friend request, you spent hours upon hours examining her muscles like it was going to matter whether or not you chose her as your sugar mommy. (You were totally whipped for her already..) The way you obsessed over the older woman was practically a sin, staring at her pictures as if she would jump out of the screen and fuck you silly on your twin-sized bed-

That small obsession was probably the first sign that the whole situation was a bad idea that could end in utter heartbreak for you. But what choice did you have?

Your first meet-up with Abby was extremely awkward for you. She was just as beautiful as she was on her profile, her dirty blonde haired braided, and her body adorned with a pair of baggy cargos and a casual t-shirt. She dressed so basic and you were still salivating. To you, this was no longer an act of money-making, but a pathetically huge crush on an older woman.

Abby was nothing like what her intimidating physique told you about her–she was sweet and caring. She went over every rule with you slowly and in this impossibly gentle voice, and she even complimented the skirt you had on that day. You laughed, pretty giddy and comfortable enough to express yourself around the woman.

The terms of her being your "sugar mommy" were simple: you would be cared for both emotionally and financially. She promised to take you out to the mall and buy you whatever cutesy outfits you liked, made sure to add in how much she already loved the way you dressed. She promised fancy dinners, and you were a girl who was obsessed with crab legs and anything other than shitty college-student food, so you happily agreed to that. However, the aspects of being in a sugar mommy / sugar baby relationship that were more catered to Abby was... that was where things got difficult to easily understand.

Abby was very upfront with you about the sexual aspect of your relationship. She warned you that in her previous relationships, sex was a common activity. She would never require it, but she did expect some level of romantic affections as a sugar mommy in order for the dynamic to work. You weren't an idiot- you understood what sex was, obviously. You also expected whoever you'd be in your arrangement with to expect sex, and you thought about it many times before signing yourself up on that website. It was the emotional aspect that left you feeling grey, and that was something that came after the two of you had already fucked around.

You agreed to a sexual relationship, and Abby didn't immediately request any sexual relations. The first month of your time together, Abby would simply pick you up and treat you to a shopping spree or just take you back to her luxurious home, treating you to wine and appreciating your company. Sometimes when you'd come back to your dorm after a long day with her, you would find random amounts of money slipped into your pocket. You found it endearing.

The sugar baby lifestyle was paradise in the beginning, especially that first easy month. You never had to worry about money, never had to say no to going out with the girls or hell, even worrying about your tuition. Anything you needed, Abby provided. If you were stressed, she'd massage away at your shoulders with her big, strong hands and make you feel at ease.

Really, you could say the first time you had sex with her was where things got so messed up. But that wasn't even true, because you were already so addicted to Abby by just her personality. She was everything anyone could ever want. That being said, the sex definitely lit the fuse that made you so certain you were falling for her.

The day the situation made a turn for chaos started off normal. You spent most of the Saturday morning at your job, and when you got home, you spent most of the evening finishing up homework that needed to be completed. It was when you got a short text from Abby saying that she wanted to pick you up that you felt a shift in your life. Usually, her texts were detailed with what she'd do with you, how fancy she wanted you to dress up, etc. This felt scary. You almost thought that she was planning on breaking off your relationship, which sent an ache through your heart that you should not have felt, but that wasn't the case.

You drove to her house, the road seeming to wind on forever before you finally turned into her drive-way. When she opened the door for you, she didn't look somber though. More serious with a slight twinge of nerves. When you stepped into the house, you were ordered to sit on the couch and listen to what your sugar mommy had to say.

"Look, I'm just going to get straight to the point with you.. I think it's time to take this further. I'd like this relationship to become more physical."

Of course, you agreed. You wanted her for a while, stared at the way her muscles flexed when she'd do certain mundane tasks. The two of you had kissed before, which was usually a short and sweet action, but you were always left wanting more. You didn't even know if you were supposed to be so eager for sex with her. Afterall, you were the one that was supposed to be entertaining her. You knew that you were supposed to enjoy it, obviously. It'd be quite awkward if you didn't. However, you figured that most sugar babies were never supposed to fantasize about their sugar mommies the way you did...

Just the night before, you were in your bed, hand in your panties, two fingers pathetically fucking away at your sopping cunt. Touching yourself was one thing, but dreaming of Abby's fingers taking over? That was a whole new can of worms to open. You'd never even admit to Abby how you gripped at your sheets when you came, biting your bottom lip hard to keep from screaming her name for the whole floor to hear.

When you agreed to Abby's new suggestion, she was pretty much indifferent. That made you feel so exposed: the fact that she could tell that you'd say yes. Maybe she was just some secretly magical sex goddess that could smell the twinge of arousal dripping off of you anytime she'd take you out to spoil you. Maybe she was aware of the feelings of attachment you'd harbored for her that you hadn't even known about that first month of business. Nonetheless, she calmly led you to her bedroom.

You hadn't seen it before, but now that you were standing in the middle of her bedroom, you felt a deep-seated wave of intimacy approach your heart. The lights were dimmed, a few candles lit on her dresser. There wasn't a pile of messy clothes on the floor, or a stray piece of trash on her nightstand like your dorm contained. It was so..mature looking. It suited her well, a clean and cozy bedroom.

You were told to sit down on the bed, so you obliged. She gently parted your legs with her knee to stand inbetween them. You looked up at her with slightly widened eyes, pupils blown. It wasn't surprising that you were already so ready for her. She didn't have to rush to feel between your thighs to know how soaked your pussy already was. That should've been a sign that you were too far gone, but Abby was a bit selfish. She ignored it.

Abby leaned down to press a few kisses onto your reddened cheeks before meeting your lips with a sweet kiss. Kisses with Abby was the best part of being her sugar baby. She kissed you like you were a treasure, like you needed to be protected and deserved every bit of attention you received. Her lips kissed you in ways that were so controlled, in ways you hadn't experienced from your past, when sloppy and fast was the way to go. No, she slid her warm lips against yours and when it was finally time, she'd coax your lips wide to swirl her tongue into your mouth, which had a way of making you moan into hers.

Her mouth finally broke away from yours with a burst of ragged breathing. Her voice was thick with arousal that you hadn't heard before. "Are you going to be good for mommy and let her eat that pretty pussy of yours?"

The thoughts resurfaced, the countless nights spend fantasizing about how her tongue would drill into your hole-

"Yes, mommy..", you answered, arousal seeping into your own voice, a hidden gem of emotional want buried so deep within it that Abby hadn't detected it, or chose not to.

With you naked on the middle of her bed, Abby's head between your legs, her tongue between your wet folds, heaven was no longer debatable. You should've thought of the consequences of letting yourself get so emotionally invested in what she was doing. It was just sex. That was something that was repeated into your mind overtime by friends and by social media. You knew that people could fuck and never love each other, but it was so difficult for you to not fall in love with Abby. The sex only made your conflicted feelings worse. The way your thighs engulfed her head, you could squeeze her face until your heart's content and she'd never complain. She'd only squeeze your soft thighs harder, only intertwine her fingers with yours which made you let out an embarrassingly horny moan. You were too high on Abby's treatment to even consider how badly it was to have what was supposed to be casual sex in a way that you knew wouldn't be casual for you.

Abby's tongue only swirled around your clit at times, and other time's it would ruthlessly devour your pussy just how you needed her to. She was drawing out your pleasure, coaxing every bit of need out of you and attempting to satiate your cravings. She was silent, mouth focused on your cunt, while you were loud and shameless.

"Abby, please- fuck, right there, please.."

"I wanna cum, please just make me cum..stop teasing."

"Ooh, fuck-"

Yeah, you were insatiable. After a torturous amount of time, the blonde finally stopped teasing your clit and let her tongue fuck you at a brutally fast pace. It didn't even take long to send you right over the edge, all over her gorgeous face.

Her tongue didn't cease, only continued with pressured strokes against your clit, milking every drop of pleasure from your body. You were on another planet, practically seeing stars. In that moment, you consciously knew that nobody would have such a hold on you the way Abby did. Nobody could have you wrapped around their finger, make you cum around hers...the way Abby had you.

After you came down from your high, Abby held your bare body in her lap, in her arms, muttering soft words to you. "Yeah, that's my good girl. Shh, just stay here, I'll hold you, okay?", she cooed to you, coaxing you back down to Earth.

You went home that night all giddy and surely in love.

Surely, loving Abby wasn't such a bad thing. She was a huge part of your life, and she was so caring. Who wouldn't fall for her? You recognized your feelings, your attachment, your dependency. Yet you just couldn't find it inside of you to think of it as a dangerous thing yet.

Over the months, Abby had you in countless ways, on countless nights, in countless moods. Sometimes, she was a bit stressed from her job. Those nights, she'd have you mainly pleasure her. You'd be so eager for the times you could lap away at her pussy, because it was a rare occurrence that she'd be vulnerable enough to let you. See, that's the thing about love. You want to give your person everything you have, and more. Other nights, Abby was feeling really sweet with you. She even bought a strap-on to use on you. She'd fuck you with the fake cock so mercilessly and yet so sweetly, just shy of breaking you. You almost broke down once and spilled out how much you loved her on one occasion after she had you in missionary, staring into your eyes at some points and kissing you while you came, whining muffled noises into her mouth so she could practically swallow your pleasure at its peak. Some nights, she was really tired but still wanted to see her baby cum. She'd let you bounce on her strap, whispering how good you were at taking her cock while kneading your tits in her hands like dough.

However, things seemed to change for the worse. You didn't even notice it at first.

It started with turning down your friends' questions to hang-out to go to dinner with Abby and have sex after. Then, you quit your job. At that point, Abby had paid your tuition off for you, and you felt financially well off. That was a truly stupid idea, but you really didn't want a job in the first place. It was too hard to balance a job and homework and Abby. The final major turning point was when you found yourself relying on Abby for more than just expenses. You were relying on her emotionally as if she were your actual partner.

Anytime you'd find yourself crying over stress or had a bad day, it was Abby's door you knocked on. No matter how many times that week you had already came over, you'd still call or knock right back on her door.

At this point, both of you knew how in love you were. How much you needed Abby. But to her, you were the perfect girl, and you had everything she needed in a sugar baby. You weren't spoiled or demanding, at least not first. But as time went on, it was clear the intense love was not leaving. It was only developing into something horrendously serious. And hell, maybe Abby felt the same. Felt the feelings rise up in her soul for you. But she was an older woman, she was more equipped in pushing them back. Anything she felt for you left as soon as it bubbled up.

The late-night calls you initiated, the constant need for reassurance because the current situation was just not cutting it, every part of your love was starting to grate at Abby. You started out as her perfect girl, and now you depended on her in ways that left her unable to simply move on.

Most of Abby's previous sugar babies simply moved on after a few months, when they had the closet of their dreams and had everything they wanted. But when what you wanted was an actual relationship, when Abby so accidentally ruined the sweetness in you, that's when she had to end it all.

You didn't take the "break-up" very well. You couldn't even call it that, because you were denied a true relationship. It was miserable being alone after having someone that you felt like was your everything. You fell back onto your bed each night yearning for something you didn't even get to fully experience, and your grades that were already suffering only got worse. You were still financially stable, at least enough to give you the time to find a new job, but none of that even mattered to you.

You were ruined, bitter and corrupted from someone so sweet. It was all your fault. You knew the rules, and yet nothing stopped you from falling face-first into Abby Anderson. And the worst part is, somehow, this wouldn't be the true end of the hold Abby had on you. Not when Abby had realized how wrong she was about her own feelings, her own naivety of her attachment to you after she ended it.

Maybe you had corrupted Abby back, and the two of you were far from done with each other.

[thatdiabolicalfeminist]

happy disability pride month!

i am physically disabled by serious chronic illness! (also autistic)

my income is about 1/3 of the local minimum wage.

and with grocery prices still super high and no food stamp increase to match, expenses related to my disability (i'm stuck in bed almost all the time because i physically cannot sit up for very long without fucking up my entire body for weeks), and various unfortunate surprises...

i'm broke, struggling and extremely stressed out about money.

there's about $100 in my bank account rn (July 12, 2024), I don't get paid again for over 3 weeks, and i'm running out or completely out of a bunch of necessities.

would any financially secure adults be willing to help with even a dollar?

a walmart card would let me pay for grocery delivery (i'm unable to shop in person & walmart's cheapest.) they can be sent anonymously (or not) and start at $5.

(my email is thatdiabolicalfeminist at gmail dot com)

i also have a food and necessities wishIist if you'd like to help that way. there's a lot of basic stuff on there that i need but can't afford.

(there's also uber/visa/etc cards on there if you'd like to help but don't want to choose.)

i'm incredibly sorry and embarrassed to have to ask for help again. i just don't have any other options rn. literally any help would make a massive difference and i'm so sorry to ask.

thank you so much for tolerating this on your dash!

[nouvxllev]

CAN I DO A REQUEST..

Jenna x Reader

Summary: R gets high off their ass after an argument w J, J gets home (xtra tired) w R drunkkkafff, but even in a drunken state, R still treats J like a literal princess, no matter the circumstance they're in cuz R loves J sm

LOVELOVELOVE YOUR WRITING SM.

-🦦

i (do)nt care!

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Gn!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: literally drinking tears away, on the verge of an alcoholic and stressed out reader, readers the sweetest but also dorkiest, bittersweet stuff but the author is trying to sound funny above most of it

a/n: one of my recognizable anons, thank you for requesting!!! APPRECIATE YOU SMMM

masterlist.

You're a shitty person at times, like having quips come flying out of your mouth like a 7th grade asshole. You don't know where they come from, but they came from something like maybe a stressful week.

Like people not knowing when and how to shut the fuck up, angry customers with blonde hair and a penchant for that pixie-cut hairstyle pestering you all day because you allegedly forgot their order as if you weren't new to the whole running a coffee shop thing while on a minimum wage!

The internet seriously romanticized it too much, it's becoming a hassle to know which job to take when all you want is something relaxing and pays well.

Job hunting was a pain in the ass more than you are.

But then there's that lovely and caring girlfriend of all that makes it all bearable even if you're on the brink of insanity. The one who makes everything okay with literally just her presence. If there were a worldwide contest for the best and most understanding girlfriend, you knew Jenna would win it hands down.

You'd sooner try to stop a bullet train with your bare hands than even hurt her in the slightest. You loved her all too much to even do so.

But somehow in your own fucked up, seriously-like-actually-what-the-actual-fuck-were-you-thinking way, you managed to mess that up too.

You had an argument with Jenna as soon as you walked through the door the both of you shared. (It was because she accidentally broke your Minecraft bed and now it wasn't placed beside her. Again, you were stressed, and everything piled up. Even if it's dumb ones.)

You still remember the sound of her voice, heartbreaking is all you could say. (Again, dumb argument. Why did you even bring it up as if it was some huge problem?)

So now you're here. Drinking all your sorrows away like it would magically bring Jenna close and sing some we are the world shit for the rest of your living lives and kiss.

It was moments like these when you question if you were dropped on your head as a baby multiple times and no one even bothered to tell you.

I mean, arguing over a Minecraft bed? Seriously? Maybe you should take up lobotomy without anesthesia.

You still remember saying, 'Fine! Go away and see if I fucking care!' like something out of a bad soap opera and then she actually went away.

And you do care. Very much so.

It's safe to say you spent 30 minutes crying on the floor before picking your ass up to get a cab and come up with a dangerous coping mechanism before you eventually spotted a bar and decided you'd start drinking.

And of course, being that one person who never drank before in their entire life without having to chase it all down with water the soon it hits your tongue, it tasted bitter.

The bar was quiet with a hint of peoples voices going up and down alot, screaming alot, and the occasional drunkard barging in with their work attire.

You'd like to think that you're none of these people, but your the person who argued with literally the love of your life that you vowed to never hurt over something so dumb and tried drinking it all away.

"Ffffuck..." you murmured to yourself. Your eyes burned like hell, that was a nice addition to a headache.

Your head was down on the counter, your fingers gripping the shot glass as if it was your last moment on earth.

"You've ordered two bottles of whiskey and a fuck ton of tequila shots in the past hour, something wrong?"

Let's see, I've been fighting sleep as if I've disrespected my ancestors, job hunting is literally chewing me like I'm flavored bubblegum, tired, stressed, and most importantly, I managed to upset my one and only girlfriend who only gave me nothing but pure happiness and love! So, I'm fucking not, thanks so much for asking!

But you can't say that to someone who's also working minimum wage at a bar in New York. Living in New York is hell enough, dealing with fucked up customers like you is already going to be the next problem.

Because what can you really say to someone who's just trying to do their job? They don't need to hear about your self-inflicted drama.

You hear the bartender sigh. Not unlikely because you've probably been groaning and whining for the past few minutes.

"Let me guess, gotten to a fight with your significant other?"

How in the hell did he know that!?

Your eyes widened, immediately sitting up straight. "Holy shit, you're a wizard!" By the way your voice slurred and literally no one on earth would have that as their first thought, you're drunk.

The bartender chuckled, cleaning off another class and chucking it in the sink. "Not quite. Just seen my fair share of broken hearts. Kind of comes with the job."

You shake your head, "Nope," you popped the P, "definitely a wizard."

"Wanna tell me about them?" He placed another shot glass your way, "On the house, juice, though. You shouldn't be drinking anymore."

Taking the glass of juice, you swirl it around absentmindedly with your hand perched on top of the table and carrying the weight of your head. People say don't talk to strangers, but they never really said to spill your guts over to them.

With a sigh you down it all.

"Her name's…" Oh, right. She's an actress.

You really shouldn't be going around telling people you're literally with America's Idol when you kept your relationship with her private until she's ready to go public.

"Her name is, uhm, Jenny." Fuck, she's gonna kill you if you tell her this story. But it does put a very stupid smile on your face.

"Pretty name."

Your eyes lit up like never before. You were passionate for her, how could you not? "She's pretty, very pretty—you wouldn't know how to describe it yourself, you'd have to write verses upon verses to."

"Have you?"

"I'm still writing. Everyday."

The bartender nodded with a slight smile to his lips.

You stand up straighter. "She's this—talented person with one of the most dangerously charming brown eyes that resembles a nebula. Her smile, oh—her smile is one of the most incredible things to witness. She could make a devil weep and laugh with her, it'll make them regret their sins in an instant." Your voice was warm, clear, not even a trace of drunkenness whenever you're talking about her.

"It's not just her looks, or her smile, or whatever, she has a brilliant mind you could never dissect. Tears were never a challenge for her, she's brave, braver than anyone I've ever seen. She's a kind and romantic soul, an old one at that, but romantic nonetheless. Not just to me, but to everyone around her. She cares for everyone around her." You didn't notice you started crying halfway through.

"Dreaming was never a problem when I'm around her, though it felt like reality was greater than anything I've ever slept in. She's just the most gorgeous and incredible girl. She sees right through me, through everything, but she still loves me despite all my flaws and fuck-ups."

You pause. "But tonight, I got us into an argument so stupid, like so stupid and then I burdened everything I was feeling on her. Before I knew it, I yelled some things at her that I didn't really mean and she was out the door."

You'd think you'd be fine after literally spilling everything out, but no, you just slump back again in defeat like some pathetic hopeless romantic loser.

You facepalm yourself. "Give me a bottle."

"You shouldn't be—"

"I'll pay you 100$ no change needed, just please give me a bottle." You were acting like one of those drunkards you see on TV shows where the character gets horrendously fucked over.

One of the all time low for you, you've really outdid yourself.

You hear the bartender sigh and place another bottle of whiskey. "Business is business."

In one go, or maybe one shot glass, you were back to words stumbling and your brain feeling like fizz.

"All I know is I screwed up big time, and now I'm sitting here feeling like the world's biggest idiot for doing something like that to literally the love of my life!"

"Well, is she—"

It happened in a flash.

Or rather it happened in a second by how fast your mood changed to serious to straight up bawling your eyes out and gripping the bartenders collar.

"What the hell do I do, John!? Is your name even John!?" You cried, even breaking down and making a mess of yourself in front of the population of this bar.

"ImessedthefuckupandIdon'tevenknowifshesgonnaforgivemeohmanwhatthehelldoIdo!?" You swayed him back and forth, it's amazing how he isn't calling for security and escorting you out.

"OKAY, OKAY! Calm down, shit!" He immediately grabs your hands and gently pries your fingers from his shirt and sits you back down.

"I feel like the—" you hic "—worlds biggest asshole and my girlfriend thinks that too!

"She's—"

"I still love her with all my heart! I'll do anything to be with her again, I'm so fucking serious, anything I—!"

"She's right behind you, man!"

You stop.

You turn around.

"Oh, shit."

You murmured. It was like your brain was stumbling on a delicate thread of soberness and drunkenness. Jenna looked like the most finest pair of blobs.

Jenna looks tired, exhausted, stressed. Her eyes are glistening with tears, and her nose carries a reddish tint to it. You didn't even notice that she was wearing your shirts with one of your jackets.

"Oh, love!" You come crashing down on her as you stood up, embracing Jenna into a warm hug.

"Y/n, you're crushing me—"

Jenna used to love your hugs, even if they were totally crushing her. Oh, you were so fucked.

"Sorry, sorry," you mumble, stepping back slightly but your hands lingered on her shoulders, offering a small massage to her stress. "Is that you, Jenna?"

She looks up at you. There were visible dark circles under her eyes and glint of past tears that trickled down her face.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, Jennaaaaauuhh!" you cry out, her name stretching as you bawled your eyes out in front of her, words tumbling out of you before you can even stop them.

"I didn't mean anything, or any of it! I was stressed, people were so mean to me, but that isn't a valid excuse for me to just..." you blew a raspberry for dramatic effect, "blow it up on you. Please don't ignore my hugs, you always adored my hugs! Oh, God, Jenna, I'm so sorry!"

You were still talking before Jenna could even get one word out, "I love you literally sooo so so much I was a fool for even—hey, how'd you know I was here? Fuck, you shouldn't be here! I can't let you know that I was drinking, turn around!"

"Y/n," she sighs, reaching up to cup your cheek in her hand, "Let's just go home. You've been here for an hour."

You nod frantically, not knowing if that was meant to be as an I forgive you gesture or an I will tear your limbs from muscle to tendon and taxidermy you into the most horrendous positions after we get home gesture.

"I'll get the door for you!" You shout while stumbling over your own feet as you rush to get the door.

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

By the time the two of you got home safely without you trying to insist taking over the steering wheel when you're completely blacked out of your mind, you're still clinging onto Jenna as if she was the one going to fall on her own feet.

"Y/n, what are you doing?"

Jenna looks up at you, your whole figure sprawled out in front of her like a starfish.

You turn around at her like some superhero who came to save the day, vision blurry from the light. "The moon looks suuuper close tonight. What if you'll get burnt!?"

"That's the porch lamp, Y/n."

"No, it is not—!" You look up. Oh, shit it is.

"Oh." You take Jenna's hand, giggling away your blatant stupidity with a goofy grin, "God, you're so smart, can't believe you're my girlfriend."

But Jenna just laughs. It's everything to you, a sweet symphony blessed with those close with her.

"I like 'ur laugh, Jenna." You whisper to her, hands in your pockets while you watch her struggle with the keys.

She doesn't respond but with a nod. Your heart sinks for her—she's that exhausted and it's all because of you!

Finally, she manages to get the door open with your heart stuck in your throat while Jenna leads the both of you inside. The house was warm, toasty, but it left remnants of your argument with her.

You steel a glance at her, her eyes cast downward while she struggles with her own jacket.

"Oh—here! I'll get your coat," you offer, your hands trembling slightly with your own coat hanging from your forearm. "Annnd I'll take care of your clothes—wait, did you have dinner yet? I can whip up something for you!"

Without Jenna's judgement, you hurry up with a tail stuck between your own two feet to Jenna's closet, throwing everything out and getting some nice and comfy clothes for her. Not knowing you went to your closet instead of hers.

"Jenna!" You run towards her, pretty fast for a drunkard without falling over, "Shit everything looks like hell for me—anyway, what do you want for dinner? I can literally make anything, just say the word!"

Jenna still stands in the doorway, looking up at you. "You can't cook dinner, love, you're drunk."

She called you love! Yes!!

"I'm not drunk. I don't have my hiccups anymore, my vision is not that impaired and I can walk perfectly fine. You just saw me run!"

"You mistook a porch lamp for a moon and tried to protect me, Y/n."

Noooo! Back to the first name basis already!?

"Well—"

"You're sweating even if the air condition is turned on, your eyes look red so is your face."

"Okay, maybe—"

All you heard was a sigh before Jenna's lips met yours. Soft and delicate, it was the effect she had on you. You can melt like winter bathed in sunlight for the first time by the touch of her lips on yours.

"Earth to Y/n?"

Your eyes were still closed even after she pulled away, what an idiot you must've looked like.

You blink.

"Oh—oh, that's me. I'm Y/n." You cleared your throat. "Here, your clothes!" You bounced back almost immediately, but you swear your heart is still fluttering like crazy.

Jenna took the neatly folded pile of clothes on your hands, "Let's just take a shower, okay—"

You're practically bouncing with energy and utmost passion to help out your girlfriend with a simple sentence coming out of her mouth. "I'll draw a bath for you! Even scented candles and bubbles—wait, let's get you on the couch first."

Jenna smiles at you. Oh, how you've missed her. "You know, you don't have to do this, baby." She murmurs as she makes her way to the couch with your hand between hers, sinking into the soft cushions with a relieved sigh like she was a plushie.

"But I want to," you respond softly, handing her a bottle of water and arranging pillows for extra comfort. "It's the least I can do."

Fuck, she's too adorable. How in the hell did you manage to get into an argument with this perfect girl?

"I'll be right back, baby. Just relax, okay?" You reassure her, giving her a quick peck on the forehead before eagerly skipping to the bathroom like your life depended on giving your girlfriend the most luxurious bath of all.

It took a long while before you got everything in place. It was all 50% work and 50% taking a rest because you almost tripped and fell into the bathtub, eaten shit on the floor and the bath bomb, mistook rose petals for blood, almost dropped your phone into the water, and took numerous breaks to calm your vision and heartrate down.

Returning to the living room, you find Jenna lying down with her eyes shut, looking cozy and content.

Yet she was still tired.

Visible traces of exhaustion were etched on her face, her eyebrows are slightly creased even in her REM cycle, and her hand is curled into a fist as she constantly twists and turns in her sleep.

You wince at the sight.

You approach her quietly, gently brushing a strand of hair away from Jenna's face. You watch her breathing even out, her chest rising to her breaths. She looked dangerously ethereal.

"Y/n?"

How long have you been staring at her for?

You smiled, getting into the couch with her, wrapping your arms around her soft body, hoping that it felt like comfort to her like how she felt like undeniable solace to you. She was cold, very cold, but you couldn't help wrap your arms around her.

"Hey." You murmur, planting a soft kiss to her neck, "You okay? I drew a bath for you."

"Just for me?"

"Mhmm, why?"

"Aren't you going to take one? You reek of alcohol, baby."

"Harsh."

She laughs at you, sitting up and pulling you along with her. "Take a shower with me, there's enough space for two."

You smirk at her, "Ooooh, sexy."

Jenna could almost burn holes in your face, rolling her eyes with the same smile as yours, "We are not having sex, baby."

"Oh." You wince as you get up, taking Jenna along with you, "But seriously?"

"Seriously, you reek."

"And I thought you love me!"

"I do, just not the smell."

By the time you both got into the shower, you were marveling at Jenna's figure.

She seemed almost too flawless, simply too gorgeous not to appreciate fully. You could almost cry at the sight (which you did). She was too perfect not to.

Jenna turned to you, her wet hair cascading from her shoulders as you sat behind her, massaging her shoulders to relieve any stress and tension in her body. "You alright, baby? You're... crying."

"Sorry," You wiped your tears away with a light laugh, "You're too perfect, how could I not!?"

Jenna leaned into your touch, letting the warm water and scented candles warm her spirit as well as heart, the tension melting away under your gentle touch. "You're pretty perfect yourself, Y/n."

"Compared to you, I'm no one."

"Now that's the dumbest thing you've ever said."

You paused in your ministrations. "I made you cry, Jenna. Over something so stupid." You let your arms fall to her waist, wrapping them in a tight hug as you bring her closer to you, burying your head on the crook of her neck. "'M sorry. I shouldn't have blown up everything on you. I didn't mean anything."

Jenna sighed, her hands finding yours cuddled around her and intertwining each finger with hers. "I know you're just tired—"

"You are too. More tired than me but you never harmed me like how I harmed you." You whisper to her, your breath shaking, "I'll do better, Jenna. I'm sorry."

She hummed, turning her head to plant a delicate kiss on your cheeks. "I forgive you, Y/n. We all have our moments, you aren't any out of the ordinary."

You hummed softly against her skin.

"Also, please don't go out drinking again, okay? It's gonna turn out a bad habit for you."

"You smoke, Jenna. We aren't that different."

Jenna narrowed her eyes, "I will drown you, Y/n."

You laugh, placing a kiss on the corners of her lips. "I'm just joking!"

You continued to massage Jenna's shoulders, feeling your own stress and tension melt away as you kiss every patch of her skin.

"How come you still treat me so well even when you're drunk?" Jenna adjusted her position as she nestled between your legs, her own drawing up to her chin.

You scoff, "For the second time, I'm not drunk and I love you too much not to."

"That's a stupid reason."

"Excuse me?"

"What were exactly your exact words... Oh, 'Go away and see if I fucking care?'"

"You know I didn't mean it!"

"I do. But I wanna hear you say it."

You couldn't see Jenna's exact face, but you know she's wearing a shit-eating grin with the most stupidest and cutest dimples around her smile.

"I do care for you, Jenna. So much. I was a dumbass for saying that, a dick, even."

Jenna laughed, leaning in to rest on your shoulder, her hand gently guiding your head to face towards her.

She pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "I love you."

"Well, I care for you." You kissed her back.

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

a/n: im surprised that this was so short also im back! my schedule is hectic and very stressful but im still alive for the most part

[changetyre]

If you don’t mind and have the time, could you do a George x Alex x Reader smut? You can go on however you’d like!

We'll take care of you II Alex Albon x Reader x George Russell ⓈⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: You're overworked, tired, and stressed but you trust your favorite boys enough to take care of you and make you feel better.

WARNINGS: **18+**, innocent reader, threesome, polyamorous relationship, DP (Not proofread)

A/N: I cannot think of Alex and George being anything other than gentle loving boyfriends tbh so some fluffy smut for once : )

You held your phone to your ear as you heard it begin to ring, you tried your hardest to hold in the tears that threatened to escape your eyes as you at the entrance of your work hiding away from the rain.

You'd been the first person to arrive this morning immediately faced with an infinitely long stack of pages you had to read through and as you continued through the day several pages were added to the pile resulting in you being the last person out...for the 4th day in a row now.

You loved your job, you really did but having been hired by a high-end company wasn't as exciting as you thought it would be right about now. You were good at your job, no excellent and you knew that but apparently so did your new boss who took advantage of your wit and efficiency leaving ridiculously large workloads on your shoulders while still being paid a minimum wage.

"Hi baby, I was worried you coming home yet?" You heard your boyfriend's voice through the phone as he picked up.

"G can you please come pick me up?" You couldn't hold your tears in now finally finding comfort in his voice. "I just left work and-"

"I'm on my way." George didn't need further explanation as you heard keys rustling in the background.

"Are you away from the rain love?" You heard your other boyfriend's voice through the phone and you could hear the car starting in the background.

"Yeah...just about." You sniffled. "I'm just tired." You knew your tears probably concerned them more than necessary.

"It's okay darling, we're almost there." you heard George's voice echo so you knew they'd put you on the car's speaker.

"I miss you." You sighed, speaking honestly despite having seen your boyfriends this morning you'd craved nothing more than to be in their arms the whole day.

You looked down at the soaked cuff of your pants along with your wet heels. Your body shivered with the spray that managed to get onto your coat.

"We're right here with you love..." You heard Alex speak as you could see the car round the corner. "Always." He finished before they pulled up in front of you and you hung up.

You were about to walk to the car but both Alex and George walked out running toward you, neither of them wearing a jacket although Alex held an umbrella in his hand.

"Oh, baby." George sighed as they both approached you opening their arms for you. You happily let yourself fall into them letting out the tears of exhaustion and frustration.

"I'm so tired." You cried in their arms as Alex rubbed circles on your back and George ran his fingers through your hair.

"It's okay darling, we're here," George reassured you kissing the top of your head.

"Let us take care of you." Alex added kissing your temple.

You finally looked up, the tug on both their hearts seeing your soaked eyelashes and puffy cheeks was enough for them to decide they needed to help you feel good again the best way they knew how.

The boys led you back to the car George getting in the driver's seat and Alex getting in the backseat with you. Alex cuddled you into his body while George began taking you both home.

Your boyfriend's body heat was already enough to make you feel better, you found yourself almost dozing off to sleep but just before you did George had already pulled up to your home.

"C, mon let's get you inside darling," George said as he parked the car got out, and walked around to open the door for you.

You were ready to step out but were pleasantly surprised when George scooped you into his arms allowing you to wrap yourself around him like a little koala as he carried you inside.

You shut your eyes, you trusted the boys with your life and you wouldn't care where they took you as long as they stayed with you.

"Let's get you out of this baby." you heard Alex's voice behind you as George carefully set you down. Alex reached for the hem of your shirt pulling it over your head.

Once the shirt was lifted off you did you realize you were in your bathroom. George began unbuttoning your pants while you heard the shower start running as Alex warmed the water up for you.

"Let's get you freshened up my love." George had stripped you completely naked before walking you to the shower.

"Come here, baby." Alex was already inside, his white hair quickly dampening.

You stepped in letting Alex pull you in by your waist to his naked chest. George only let go of you momentarily but you already missed his presence.

Luckily it didn't take long for him to also undress before joining you in the shower.

Alex ran his fingers through your hair making sure it got completely soaked through, you closed your eyes enjoying the feeling of your boyfriend's caresses.

Soon enough George was in front of you placing soft lingering kisses to your bare neck.

"mhm." You sighed feeling the stress melt away, as if George and Alex were sucking it out of you slowly.

"You feel better already baby?" Alex asked behind you and you felt as he began placing kisses along your shoulder.

"Yeah..." your voice was barely above a whisper but it didn't need to be any louder.

"Kiss me, darling," George whispered softly as he cupped the back of your neck, his fingers disappearing in your hair as he brought your face closer to his.

You didn't need to be asked again as you happily obliged to George's petition joining your lips to his. Your mouth opened and closed slowly along with his in a kiss filled with love and lust.

George's tongue battled with yours in a lazy and playful fight but it was still enough to make warmth pool at the bottom of your stomach.

You whined as George pulled away upset that the kiss ended but this sadness didn't last long as you were smoothly turned around, George and Alex holding you tightly to make sure you wouldn't slip on the wet floor.

"My turn my love." Alex smiled as he began kissing you. You loved the way you could feel the difference between your boyfriends kisses, although they both ended up making you feel the same.

George's kisses always took your breath away, they had you in a haze all throughout and you could feel as George silently fought for dominance by intensifying the kisses or making sure to pull noises out of you.

Alex however, his kisses were like a breath of fresh air, it literally felt like you were filling up your lungs all throughout his kisses despite the fact this was physically impossible. Alex's kisses were soft, so soft that it almost felt like he was constantly making sure you were in control, always careful not to hurt you throughout but still making sure you felt every fiber of his love through it.

Yet despite the difference they were both able to set off those butterflies in your stomach, they were able to make your hair stand up all across your body and they were able to make your blood rush right to your core.

"Fuck she's soaking-" Your breath hitched and you were forced to pull away from your make-out with Alex as George ran a finger through your slit. He repeated the process a few times with his fingers as he covered them in your wetness.

"Is she?" Alex smirked, as they spoke as if you weren't right there.

"Taste her." George brought his fingers that just went through you to Alex's lips who sucked them clean.

"Yeah...that's good." You could hear the smile in Alex's voice despite being turned away from him.

You were feeling all sorts of things watching your boyfriends talk about you this way and even more so when they proceeded to make out with you in between them. These were the moments you were humbly reminded of your short height compared to your giant boyfriends as you could literally look up and watch them kiss without you being much of a barrier between them.

"Let's take care of you, darling." George finally looked down at you as did Alex.

You felt again as Alex began placing kisses along your shoulder and George pecked your lips before kneeling. You felt as Alex took a hold of you from behind lifting you slightly so your core was level to George's face and he wasn't forced to crouch down further.

George placed his hands on your ass carrying some of your weight as he brought you forward, your back leaning on Alex's chest. You could feel George's breath on your folds and the anticipation was unbearable.

"G please." You whined.

"Shh baby I got you." George placed soft and quick kisses on the inside of your thigh inching closer and closer to your center.

"Don't tease her Georgie she's had a rough day." Alex spoke behind you.

"Yeah...you're right." George agreed but there wasn't much previous warning before he latched his mouth onto you.

His tongue quickly began to flick at your bud and then he switched to small but harsh suckles. The combination of both feelings was making you wild, you knew you wouldn't last long tonight.

"Ahh." You moaned as the pleasure increased when Alex began caressing your breast between his hands.

"Is he making you feel good my love?" Alex whispered in your ear before nipping your ear softly.

"Ye...yeah-" it was hard to focus on getting words out through the pleasure.

"Can I fuck you while he eats you out baby?" Alex asked you in a soft whisper again.

It took you a second to process his words but once you did you quickly nodded.

It was as if Alex was prepared for your confirmation as you quickly felt his dick running through your slit. You felt as if George helped lift you slightly, licking and sucking Alex's tip for a few seconds before he finally entered you.

"Ughhh." You could've almost cried with joy at the feeling that ran through your body.

George resumed sucking at your clit as Alex began setting a slow pace.

"Fuck you feel so good darling, I love you," Alex whispered.

"I...I love you." You wrapped your arm around Alex's shoulder allowing you to face him slightly as you kissed him sloppily all whilst George continued his torture on your core.

"Baby please let me fuck you too." George had stood back up again, his tongue swiping across your left nipple for a few seconds.

"Yeah." You nodded.

This wasn't the first time you'd let the boys take you at the same time. It didn't happen often because you were always forced to rest for a few hours before being able to move again but it was the last day of the week and quite frankly you didn't give a shit if you couldn't walk tomorrow right now.

George lined himself up with your entrance too, you felt Alex slow down his pace so that George was able to enter you slowly. Alex's eyes rolled back as he felt George's dick directly above his rubbing along it slowly.

"AH." You yelped at the stretch but after a few seconds, the momentary sting turned to pleasure.

"Can I move?" George asked before doing anything.

"Mhm...yeah." you linked your other hand around George's shoulder now being held up equally by your boys as they began moving.

They both trusted in and out of you almost in a rehearsed pace alternating between fucking in and out of you at a steady pace, not too quick, and definitely not too slow.

"Agh sh*t that's so good." George moaned, it's as if the pleasure was too much and he needed a distraction as he leaned forward to take your right nipple into his mouth.

"Ah ah ah...I'm gonna cum." You whimpered. "I'm gonna cum." Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as both Alex and George quickened their pace inside of you.

"George you almost there?" Alex panted as he asked George.

George groaned loudly which was enough of an indication but he still answered. "Right there with you."

"Let go, darling," Alex spoke to you and even if he hadn't told you your orgasm had already washed over you making you tremble in their arms in pleasure. Your legs shook as you would've fallen forward if it weren't for the boys holding you tightly.

Past your haze, you could hear them grunting as you felt them fill you up, their cream no doubt spilling out of you with how much they stretched you out.

"Fuck-" George sighed as he came down from his high as did Alex.

As expected you were completely tired out...fucked out. The boys carefully pulled out of you knowing how sensitive you were. They both took the time to wash you.

Alex continued his caresses on your hair now with shampoo and conditioner and George washed your body softly being careful between your legs but still making sure you were cleaned between them.

"D'you feel better darling?" George asked placing a kiss on your temple as he dried your hair.

"Much better." You sighed contently as you let your boys take care of you. Like they always did.

[strangerstilinski]

hiii my dear <333

would love if you could combine [heal] and [kiss] with steve 🫶

love u n have the bestest day

[HEAL] sender ends up in the receiver's lap trying to tend to their wounds to the best of their abilities. [KISS] the sender lowers themselves into the receiver's lap in order to kiss them properly.

Steve is bleeding. Again.

And why is it that Steve always seems to be fucking bleeding? If it's not a fistfight, it's inter-dimensional monsters. And if it's not monsters, it's foreign governments who hold no qualms against beating and torturing minimum-wage mall employees in the hopes that it might yield answers.

This isn't like any of those times. You know that. And yet, watching the slow trail of blood ooze from the gash at Steve's hairline, crimson dripping slow down his temple and smearing into his brow — It makes your stomach turn. Makes your knees wobble just slightly. The floor suddenly feeling decidedly unsteady beneath your feet.

You'd asked him to find a casserole dish and he'd practically crawled his way inside one of the lower kitchen cabinets in his search. Wide shoulders crowded into the space, his narrow waist on display as he reached even farther and prompted his shirt to ride up. Your eyes had been glued to the dimples at the base of his spine, objectifying gaze too stuck on the way his jeans pulled on his backside and thighs, the way the elastic waistband of his briefs cut into the softness of his hips-

He'd yelled triumphantly as he re-emerged, and you'd been too distracted to warn him to watch his head when he turned a bit too early and bashed against the edge of the opening with a resounding thunk.

You couldn't care less about cooking dinner, now. You're entirely too consumed with worry at the sight of the blood pouring from Steve's head. And, alright, pouring might be a bit dramatic. But your boyfriend is bleeding, and it's slightly your fault.

You push him from the kitchen and he drops dutifully into a chair when you give his shoulder a pointed shove. Both of your hands find their way to his face, warmth bleeding into your palms as you try to angle his head into the light a bit.

He only winces a little when you push his hair up out of the way so you can see where his skin is split. Your fingers tighten around his jaw, biting into his cheek as you turn his head this way and that in an attempt to get a better look. A frown pulls at your lips as you note the swelling that's already building into a sizable lump, and no sooner have your lips quirked downward when Steve's hands find the backs of your thighs.

"Hey, pretty sure I'm the one who's supposed to be pouting, pouty." His hands tighten, dragging you forward until you're standing slotted between his legs.

Warm, honeyed brown eyes peer up at you, his hands rubbing up and down the backs of your thighs in a comforting motion. The way he looks after you, even now, when he's the one who's injured — It sends your heart thrumming wildly.

You snatch some paper towel from the tabletop and dab at his head lightly, frown sinking further when blood immediately wells back up and begins to follow that same path down his forehead and into his eyebrow.

"It seems like it's bleeding a lot," You tell him, blotting at the growing egg on his head again, "I don't think it should be bleeding this much. Should it be bleeding this much?"

"It's a head wound, they bleed a lot." He shrugs, like it's no big deal.

You repeat his words back, mockingly, putting a little more pressure on the towel to his head. And then, "How much is 'a lot'?"

To your frustration, Steve just shrugs again, "I dunno, should stop in the next few minutes, I guess. If it does, we're good. If not, I guess I'm probably a goner-"

The pressure you're applying to the towel increases enough to have Steve wincing again, but you refuse to feel bad.

"That isn't funny." Your eyes drift as Steve's lower lip juts out, soft and plush and not even remotely portraying genuine apology. "Now who's pouting?" You grumble quietly.

"The guy who just came within an inch of braining himself to find your casserole dish, actually." Steve returns your snark all-too easily, "You know what'd really help, though?"

Your eyes narrow just slightly at the sweet edge to his voice, at the way his palms press with a little more intent into the backs of your legs. He's still looking up at you, lips quirked up now into that flirty grin of his, chin jutting out like he's expecting you to just bend down to kiss him already.

"What?" You ask, infuriatingly breathless in the wake of his touch, the gentle rumble of his voice.

"C'mere."

He pulls at your thighs again and you realize he's trying to get you to sit down. You smile softly, stepping back from between his legs and settling into place in his lap. Your thighs frame his hips, towel still pressed firmly to his head all the while.

"Better?" You ask, nosing at the space between his brows before placing a fleeting peck to his forehead.

Steve hums, "No, no, not quite. Think you could spare another kiss?"

"Oh, I suppose," You sigh woefully, like it's a big ask, though you both know it isn't. Your lips find the bridge of his nose, "Like this?"

Steve hums again, "Not quite. Little lower, honey."

You lean back just a bit to look at him, the way his eyes have clouded over with something like adoration. It still makes your head spin, that he looks at you like that-

Your thumb strokes his cheek, lips finding the tip of his nose and just staying there for a moment — waiting.

"Lower." He orders softly, his nose nudging up against you as he tips his chin up toward you.

Your lips brush his cupids bow, faint stubble scratching softly when you press the faintest kiss to his mouth. "Here?" You whisper against his lips, breath mingling warmly with his own, "Does this help?"

He knocks the bloodied paper towel from your hands and ignores your protests as he drags you back down for another kiss, this one deeper.

You're breathless when you pull back again, your eyes glued to the shine of spit on Steve's lips before your gaze flicks up to the drying blood at his hairline, the cut clotted and no longer bleeding.

"Hey, you stopped bleeding." You tell him, relieved.

"Yeah, that's great-" He says blankly, already sliding his hand to the nape of your neck to pull you back in, "Now, c'mere-"

[simpjaes]

pizza delivery guy!jake delivering reader an extra large sausage pizza 🤗

i hate how funny this is but also

pizza delivery guy jake:

tags: implied sex (not rly super detailed), reader is assumed to be vegetarian lol

Jake looks forward to his saturday night shifts for a lot of reasons, but none as good as you. The girl who orders for her group of friends at eleven at night on the dot, always two veggie pizzas, and always with a big tip.

You were a regular, of course, who he would jump to deliver to solely to see a room full of pretty girls batting their lashes at him despite his minimum wage status.

It got to the point even, that you'd request for him to deliver your food each time you order. Each tip got bigger, bigger, and bigger, up until Jake pulls up with your measly two veggie pizzas in a new car. With a new jacket, and a pretty smile.

What the pretty deliver driver didn't know? The fact that your friends hype you to try and get his number every single time he delivers.

The fact that sometimes you guys get a bit rowdy and tipsy, and go as far as making jokes about corny porno scenarios where he comes in with a large sausage for you, and oh no! you don't have money to pay! what ever shall you do?

It would stay as a funny little joke if it wasn't for the four plus hours of your friends hyping you. Saying, "come on, you never order a sausage pizza, he'll definitely pick up the hint. And if he rejects you, just play it off like a joke!"

You did. You did order that sausage pizza and, well, Jake did pick up the hint.

Driving to your house in silence, wondering why you suddenly added a winky emoji after his name in the delivery requests. Wondering why you suddenly ordered a pizza with an ingredient that resembles a dick. Wondering why he pulls up and you're alone when you answer the door in a scantily clad outfit and a shy smile on your face.

He's stunned to look at you tonight, to be honest, as he dips his head into your doorway with a confused face.

"Where are your friends?" He asks casually, leaning back and attempting to push your pizza forward and into your hands.

You shrug, pretending that they're not just around the corner listening.

"No one showed up tonight, I'm lonely." You play off the scenarios in your head, entirely because you really could just play it off like a joke.

"O- oh." Jake tries to smile at you, letting the puzzle pieces click together in his head. He really thinks you're implying right now. "I, um, I get off work at midnight, you know. If you're bored."

"Wait, really?" You ask, shocked that he doesn't appear to find this corny at all, but understanding far more as to why he offered when you note his eyes staring straight at the sheer pajama top you're wearing....with no bra.

"Um, yeah...if you want." He asks for your confirmation. "I could probably get off early too, it's slowed down a lot."

You smile, nodding to him as you take the single large sausage pizza.

"Okay then..." You say, kind of awkward and shy because you seriously can't believe that worked. "I'll see you in an hour then?"

He nods with a smile, clasping both hands in front of himself as if to hide the semi-hard on in his pants that you definitely notice.

And then he's gone, and you're standing there with a sausage pizza, a shocked face, and three girls rushing to giggle beside you.

♡♡♡♡

Naturally, and against the will of your friends, you have them pack up and leave the typical girl's night with a very sober uber as you sit in wait for midnight to strike.

And when it does? Jake shows up much as he said he would, in a plain t-shirt rather than his uniform, with a curious look in his eye because it does feel weird that he's here without a pizza exchange.

"So..." He says, rubbing the tip of his shoe into the frame of your door.

"So," You echo him, leaning against the frame yourself as you look at him.

"How lonely are you tonight?" He boldly asks.

You stay silent as you back up and flick your head to invite him in, still in your scantily clad pajamas with no underwear on.

"Lonely enough to order a fucking sausage pizza to get your attention?" You laugh, pointing to the uneaten pizza.

He lends you a laugh at that, which is a very nice sound.

"Was the sausage thing for real?" He finally asks when he sits on your couch with you.

"What do you mean?" You try to avoid the question, feeling dumb for even going this route to do this.

"Like, are you asking me to fuck you or do you actually just want to hang out?"

Well.

"Oh, um," You look away from him with a smile. "Could we not work it out to have both?"

Jake nods with a smirk, hand immediately landing against the button of his jeans as he looks at you.

"I think we can manage that."

And well, you do. Both of you do manage that.

You recall the events to your friends the next day, over how good he worked his tongue between your legs, over how good you worked your tongue on him.

They stopped listening around the time when you described the way you rode him right here, in the very spot on the couch they're sitting.

But their ears perked up a bit more at the description of how big his cock was, and how good it felt to have it split you open. Even better when he filled you up time and time again, until about four in the morning when he finally went home.

The best part about this? You don't even have to order a pizza to look at him next time. All you needed to do was snap a titty pic and Jake was risking his job to rush into your house just to fuck you up and against the little table in your entry way.

It's fun really, giving your little pizza delivery hook-up a quickie before his next delivery that will definitely come a bit later than it's supposed to.

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #5: CADMIUM COLORS

(also on bandcamp and spotify!)

Once again, welcome back to the Constant Companions Closeups - a series of in-depth dives into the songs off of my latest album, Constant Companions! Last time, I wrote a whole diatribe about my OCs while talking about I Wish That I Could Fall, and today, we're eating paint! Cadmium Colors featuring Soneji of Project Mikan!

Consider this a content warning: this post will discuss the pandemic, struggles with mental health, and suicidal ideation/attempts. I'm hoping it'll ultimately be uplifting, but the discussions at hand are incredibly heavy, and it wouldn't do this song right to be vague. Please be warned.

---

Let's talk about COVID.

At the beginning of 2020, I was in the midst of a long-term break from making music. It wasn't completely cold turkey, and I might not have even called it a break if you'd asked me at the time, but things were dire. I was still dealing with the burnout I'd sustained from the making of Autumn Every Day; I'd had my ego bruised by a live performance at a house party that went so hilariously bad it'd hurt even the most stoic performers (imagine watching an entire packed room of people clear out in 5 minutes flat from the already hyper-exposed vantage point of being on stage in front of them and knowing you single-handedly caused that lol); I had just moved across the country, and was preoccupied with trying to make ends meet as a 22 year old dealing with pure adulthood for the first time.

I was working a shitty minimum wage job at a discount clothing store I will not be naming, slogging through late-night shifts that wouldn't get me home until 3 am some nights. I had friends and roommates, but they were all just as overworked and exhausted and dealing with their own shit as me. I was mentally ill and unmedicated. Suicidal ideation was rearing its ugly head at my lowest moments.

Then, as I turned 23, a global pandemic shut the world down, my grandpa died with me being unable to attend his funeral, and I had a catastrophic mental breakdown that suddenly turned the voices in my head into a deafening cacophony of self-inflicted malice.

In hindsight, I think being 23 kinda just does that to you

---

Fast forward to 2021. I was back at my retail job with the pandemic raging in full force, my sense of self was held together with duct tape, positive self-talk essentially didn't exist for me, and I was the loneliest and lowest I had ever been. I was working the fewest hours I could get away with, and still, almost all spare time I had was taken up either by work or by my recovery from it.

This was around the time I got an email from Crypton, of all places - the people that make Hatsune Miku, for anyone uninformed. They wanted a remix of the song Happy Synthesizer for a Digital Stars compilation. I could not for the life of me tell you how I lucked into this or why they reached out to me of all people, but they did, and I was deathly determined to prove myself worthy of it.

This was August of 2021. I was staring down the barrel, languishing in what felt like only half of a life, fantasizing about death and trying to twist my thoughts into something that could at least keep me blearily shuffling forward another couple days. It was untenable.

(I'd also recently been diagnosed with OSDD 1b - this is a whole can of worms I can't really open until we talk about Breeze Blows, but it's important to at least mention that coping with this was a significant part of this turnaround.)

It's melodramatic, but I had only two options - make things again, or die.

I finished that remix within 24 hours of getting the stems, and I will gladly toot my own horn about it - it's really fucking good, in my opinion. Bittersweet ended up coming together in a mad dash over the next couple months as well. I was making music again.

Even though I was exponentially busier, things paradoxically got easier. I made the creative process a priority in my life, and not only did it give me an outlet for everything that had otherwise been eating away at my soul, but it struck a chord with other people who had been struggling as well. Things just... started getting brighter.

So I kept making music and living and yadda yadda blah blah here I am. This is all a lot of words and very personal stories of mental health struggles to say this:

One: The line between being an artist and being one of countless people forced to work jobs that go nowhere, that put their life at risk, that force them to strip parts of themselves away - it is a faint and transparent line built on circumstances of class and privilege and luck. Making Art and being an Artist aren't magical elevated states of existence, but something anyone is capable of if given the space to nurture their creativity. I believe the world should be a place where any person can do this.

Two: It's easy to convince yourself that art is meaningless in the face of the world at large. And yes, revolutions aren't fought by poetry and paintings, and people aren't fed through songs. But art is a source and a medium for connection; Art is how we find beauty in a disorganized and entropic world; Art is what we come home to and what words we write and pictures we paint and songs we sing to remind us that people matter to us and love is real and life is worth fucking living. Maybe that's corny and stupid, but it's true.

Three: So help me God, I will never work retail again in my entire life.

---

This is another song that is heavily inspired by artists like Prefab Sprout, Peter Gabriel, Kate Bush, and other artists of that ilk - very 80s, very flowery and sentimental lyricism, focused on telling a story. I greatly admire songs that aren't afraid to paint otherwise banal or ordinary scenes in abstract reverence!! I wanted the verses to contrast heavily with each other in that way, with verse one's relentless poeticisms (prosaic practice of depravity) and idioms turned on their head (suspending innocents above their disbelief) against verse two's incredibly straightforward depiction of a factory worker's circumstances.

The flowery language might have worked against me somewhat, though! I've seen a lot of folks that thought the ending was darker or much more defeatist than I intended, and while some of that is just inevitable with a work of art, I want to be clear.

Translator's note: this means "don't kill yourself, you idiot"!!

As you may have picked up from the previous post in this series, this song does heavily feature a leitmotif or two predominantly performed under pudgy pretenses. I'm not going to go on that whole novella-length spiel again, but rest assured knowing that this song, too, is one that makes me think about my OCs. Since it's something many people missed, however, I will take a moment to point out that this song quotes none other than Autumn Every Day off of my album of the same name!

Painting and visual art have been something of a reoccurring obsession of mine in my own art. I grew up around visual artists, have always been friends with many visual artists, and generally have a really intense love of it as a medium and a mode of expression. However, there's also always been a sense of... well, I don't want to call it jealousy, but it's jealousy. I've tried many times to start making visual art of my own, and I have made some things, but it's been a struggle, and I worry sometimes that my eye has permanently outstripped my ability.

However, in my quest to toss out grand expectations and simply have fun making art, I did recently pick up a cheap little drawing tablet! I'm excited to be a beginner at something artistic again...

Finally, I want to thank a couple people: Soneji of Project Mikan for the gorgeous, soaring saxophone solo; friend_xp for the mindboggling MV editing; and especially my good friend Que for the GORGEOUS painterly art that goes along with this song! Que's style was just perfect for this, and really tied the whole thing together immaculately!! There's no joke or deeper lore or anything I just fucking love Que's art go follow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And with that, I think this post is complete!! If you have anything else you wanna know about, ask away in the replies! Tomorrow will be Breeze Blows with Marcy Nabors and Marlow Jacobs!!!

MAKE ART AND BE GAY

[sadesluvr]

"Santa, Baby" - A Mike Schmidt blurb

After years of hating the holidays, Mike gets a Christmas miracle.

A/N: Merry Christmas / Happy Holidays everyone! 🎄✨ This is just me writing a silly little blurb bc I’m sad yet obsessed with the idea of spending the season with Mike and Abby. They deserve the world :’)

Set in the 2000’s like the movie.

Word count: 463

Tags: FLUFF / GN! Reader / Not much really / Mike gets to be happy for once

Mike couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed Christmas. It was no secret that it was difficult for him, working a minimum wage job with two mouths to feed didn’t leave much room for luxury dinners or fancy gifts, but it didn’t mean they didn’t try. They always put up a tree, a few decorations, and Abby got at least one present…Other than that, they spent the actual day watching whatever was on TV and listening to the radio. Then, he was usually back to work in a few days.

He hated not being able to give Abby the holiday she deserved. It killed him to think that the kids at her school would talk about all the cool things they got, whilst she got barely anything. 

He couldn’t even remember the last time he received a present. 

This Christmas was different. It was his first with you, someone who happened to have money at your disposal. Ever since you'd visited their house, you’d made efforts to turn it into a home - replacing the curtains, buying a new fridge - even spoiling Abby with art lessons. At first, Mike had been hesitant; but he saw the way that Abby smiled just a bit brighter, and the way slept just a bit easier, and slowly gave into the idea of being spoiled.

“Open it!” You buzzed, Santa hat bobbing slightly as you handed a large box to him, Abby engrossed in her new toy, but glancing up briefly to watch the interaction. Mike raised an eyebrow, blushing even at the idea of having a gift. Slowly, he tore off the wrapping paper, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he realised what it was.

“It’s a PS2!” you buzzed happily. “I remember you talking to me about how much you loved to game and had an NES when you were a teenager…I know memories of that time aren’t the best, but maybe you can make new ones..?”

Mike felt the tears well in his eyes, clenching his jaw as he trembled. 

You’d listened to him. Not only had you listened, but you’d remembered. You’d cared enough to go out of your way and get something that connected his past and present, when you could’ve just as easily got a cashmere sweater.

He felt twelve years old again; wasting hours in front of a tiny TV, shoving popcorn into his mouth as a gamed. His mom never understood the appeal.

With shaky hands, he looked up at you. You’d even bought him a game alongside it.

Smiling, you felt your heart break just a little, but you could see that he was practically screaming thank you. 

“Go ahead,” you smiled, watching as Abby rushed over to admire Mike’s new gift. “I’ll watch the food,”

[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

Summary: When a new Star Wars TV show called The Mandalorian premiered, you found yourself completely enamoured with the titular character. Enjoyment of watching the lone bounty hunter travel through the galaxy quickly turned to obsession. There was just something about the show that captured your imagination. Now, you spend much of your free time — when you're not working a fast-paced, minimum wage and incredibly stressful job at a prestigious London Museum— speaking to your online friends about your love for the show. There's just one thing... Despite how much you love The Mandalorian, no one knows the identity of the man behind the helmet... either in the show, or in real life. You only know him as Mando. No one has ever seen his face, no one knows his name.  Even after the countless hours of speculation from fans online, which even you have occasionally participated in, no one is any the wiser to the identity of the mysterious man who wears the shiny armour.  Surely, given the depth of your love for the show, you'd recognise if the man who you spend so much time obsessing over online was to ever cross paths with you. Right?

Content Warnings: Reader is AFAB, uses she/her pronouns and in her mid 20s. Age gap between her and Din is noted but not really central to the story. Grogu is human, hints of past trauma/child abuse before Din adopted him are mentioned but not described in detail. Some mature scenes later on in the fic but not explicit smut... because I just cannot write x reader smut! Author's Note: SO very excited to finally share this fic! Thank you to the lovely @suresnips for being my beta. I really appreciate you ♡ This baby was originally my NaNoWriMo 2023 project and was inspired by this post from @toxic-seduction that I saw one evening and couldn't stop thinking about! POVs will alternate chapter to chapter from Din to reader. It was fun to write that way! Set in London for a few reasons: partly because I love the movie Notting Hill and it has some of those vibes (if you squint), also, the village where Din lives is based on Elstree Studios just outside London, where the OT was filmed and ultimately because NO WAY was I writing a modern!AU set in the states, it would've been painfully obvious a Brit wrote it. While there are lots of references to places in London, I don't live there so it might not be truly accurate (Londoners don't come for me). Also, to be political for a sec, reader works at the British Museum and I hate that institution. This was actually the line of work I was interested in when I was at Uni but for many different reasons I did not pursue it. However, it works for the plot of this story and as you'll see, she doesn't exactly love it either and goes on a few rants. Just wanted to make that clear that her job there is not an endorsement of it or anything. I can't stand them or their historical apologist bs and I wish we would give back all the things we stole (including the Parthenon Marbles)! Finally, it was incredibly important to me that the actor behind Mando in this fic clearly be the fictional character of Din Djarin rather than the real person Pedro Pascal, because rpf is not my jam! I hope I did that pretty well but just wanted to warn that if you're expecting me to use Din as some kind of way to write a Pedro fic, this won't be for you! Okay, I'll shut up now! This fic is fully written, just needs editing so hopefully I'll get a couple of chapters up each week, but life happens. I'm very proud of this one and I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also if you would like to be added to my taglist for this fic, please let me know! Happy reading ♡

❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Why Does It Always Rain On Me? [Reader POV]: After a dreadful day which saw you drenched by a rainstorm after leaving a hectic day at work, you reflect on your love for Mando and upcoming excitement for the sci-fi convention you will soon be attending with your internet best friend.

He Is My Only Priority [Din's Pov]: The character of The Mandalorian is known and loved by millions. But there is another, much softer side to the man who portrays him that Din Djarin is determined to keep hidden from the world, despite the challenges that presents for him and his beloved son, Grogu.

This Is Why (I Don't Leave The House) [Reader's POV]: Your internet bestie arrives in preparation for the Star Wars convention you will attend together. Everything is set for the greatest weekend of your life! Until you arrive at the con and find yourself overwhelmed by all the crowds and noise. At least you have numerous incredibly realistic Mando cosplays to distract you from how stressed you feel, and there's one in particular which is uncannily accurate...

Curiosity Killed The Cat [Din's POV]: Despite his reservations and against his better instincts, Din heads to a Star Wars convention that he was invited to. Although he fears that his cover will be blown, curiosity gets the best of Din and he can't resist attending a panel. But Din doesn't exactly find the answers he was looking for. Instead, he finds something far more precious. Something that he would never have expected...

He's So Tall (And Handsome As Hell) [Reader's POV]: Being back in the real world and returning to work after an incredible weekend at the convention where you had so many fun experiences is taking its toll on you. The thought of collapsing on your couch in front of The Mandalorian is the only thing keeping you going. However, the universe has other plans for you. News of an out-of-hours tour for a private client that you are asked to lead almost sends you over the edge, but when you finally meet the man, he is the opposite of what you were expecting. Weirdly, he seems familiar...

With A Little Help From My Friends [Din's POV]: Din returns to the set of The Mandalorian to begin filming a new season. Despite his experience and capability, he finds that he struggles to focus as his thoughts remain firmly fixed on a certain someone...

You're The Sunflower [Reader's POV]: Despite feeling certain that you'll never see the ridiculously handsome man you gave a tour of the museum to, a special delivery is about to change everything...

Your Face Hung Up High In The Gallery [Din's POV]: After a difficult few days of filming The Mandalorian, Din is excited to spend time with you as he finally takes you on your first proper date...

Have I Known You Twenty Seconds or Twenty Years? - (Reader's POV):  Despite a messy evening which led to you waking up in an opulent hotel which you have no memory of falling asleep in, memories of kind brown eyes and breathless kisses soon come flooding back to soothe your soul. Your relationship deepens as the two of you spending time together whenever your busy schedules allow. But one night, a turn of events causes you - despite Din's reassurances - to wonder if everything you have been working so hard to build together has just come crashing down around you...

There's A War Inside Of Me - [Din's POV]: The realities of the secret he is keeping from you begin to weigh heavily on Din's mind and he seeks advice from a certain curly haired co-star on what his next move should be. Things don't go exactly according to plan, not least because of the typically awful English weather...

It Could Be Love, We Could Be The Way Forward - [Reader's POV]: With your respective busy jobs keeping you and Din apart, a mystery date after a hectic day at work is exactly what you needed.

The Calm - [Din's POV]: When filming overruns and conspires to keep Din from the fun weekend he planned for you, he agonises over his decision. Fortunately, he manages to salvage the weekend, even after a calamity involving a rowboat...

The Storm - [Reader's POV]: The happiness you feel in response to a question Din posed to you is somewhat clouded by lingering doubts. Yet your affection for each other helps you to push those emotions down, until a weekend spent at his cottage changes everything...

P.S. - I tried to be inclusive for all body types and skin tones in this fic, but if I missed something, I do apologise. If you do spot something that takes you out of the fic, I am more than happy for constructive criticism as I wouldn't want anyone to be excluded on those grounds. I am always trying to do better and would love to know where I went wrong so I can improve and be more aware of these things going forward, so I would appreciate it if you could let me know if you do spot anything. Thank you so much! ♡

[springseasonie]

Auralism Pt. 2 | PJS (M)

Voice actor Jisung x fem reader

Part 1. Part 3. Part 4.

Summary: just another night of your nightly routine except you've become a little more delusional than before.

Warnings: sexual content, auralism (voice kink), masturbation, guided masturbation, praising, degrading, parasocalism (it's bad for you)

Word count: 1,2k

A/N: I'm very glad all of you liked the first one so much. I had no idea people liked the thought of erotic voice actor Jisung as much as I did but I'm glad y'all all also see the vison lmao. Feed back is loved an appreciated 🩷🩷

"Hi baby."

"Jesus," you sighed breathlessly. Another night, you're laying in your bed on your back staring up at your ceiling. It's almost embarrassing how much you keep coming back to this specific audio. It's the first one you ever heard, but nothing will ever compare to it. "Stress relief" is what it's called, and it's exactly that. You only listen to it on your toughest days, and you're bound to have some tough days working a minimum wage job.

"For this audio, please calm your body down. Take a deep breath, okay? Close your eyes and feel the space around you."

You did just that, closing your eyes and sinking into your bed as you calmed your body down. At that moment you started to feel all the aches and pains from your day settle in.

"Try to forget about your day and just be present with me. I'm the only thing in your mind right now. I'm the only person you can hear. Focus on what I'm saying to you. You're gonna be a good girl and follow my directions like always aren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna be a good girl," you mumbled quietly to yourself. You'd crawl in a hole and die if anyone had to bear witness to this exact moment. You're in a room by yourself responding to a man who's only making audio porn to pay his bills. But it's not your fault no one can live up to the expectations of his voice alone.

"Today, I just want you to relax. I want you to pull your clothes off for me. You can pause while you do so, I'll wait for you."

You paused it, taking everything off your body till you were on your bed completely bare. You quickly started it up, sighing when hearing his voice again.

"Now I need your undivided attention okay? Rile yourself for me. Run your hands all over your pretty body. Press your fingertips into your skin and feel yourself. Run your hands over your nipples. Pinch, squeeze them. Aren't they sensitive?"

That they were indeed. And so was your cunt. If there was a thing you needed to fuck more than right now it would be him despite not knowing what he looked like. You need that voice in your ear telling you that you touched him so well, that you made him feel good. It was going to drive you insane for the rest of your life probably. You pinched your nipples, hissing at the sting on the sensitive peaks. You did this every single time, listening to every word he said and it never got old.

"Move your hand to your mouth. Suck on those fingers for me. Yeah, just like that. You look so good, beautiful."

You put your fingers in your mouth, swirling your tongue over the digits coating them in your saliva. You were so turned on at the point you would probably burst.

"Take your fingers and put them between your legs. Rub your clit for me. Get it nice and wet. I bet that feels real good. Don't you wish it was me touching you? I bet you do."

You rubbed your clit slowly in a circular motion, deep breaths slowly quickening. Your legs spread wider as your other hand squeezed your breast, the ecstatic feeling spreading all over your body.

"Keep touching yourself for me. You're such a good girl you know that? Pretty, beautiful, good girl."

You kept going, soft moans now falling from your lips. All that was in your head was him, his voice. What else were you supposed to think about? Your brain had gone numb the moment you heard him say baby.

"Now I want you to finger yourself for me. I want you to stuff that pretty pussy with your fingers."

You did as he said, eyes rolling back at the stretch You've been aching to feel all day. It's been fucking with you all day, wanting to hear his voice even just for a second. You were addicted.

"Does my voice turn you on?" He chuckled softly, making your brain turn to mush like always. "Does my voice make your pretty pussy wet?"

"Yes, yes it does," you sighed as you fingered yourself. The sounds coming from your body were shameful. Panting and whimpering filled the room, your body getting hotter and hotter as your sheets stuck to your legs.

"Keep going. God, I wish I could see you right now. All cute and wet for me, legs spread wide. You're such a little slut for touching yourself to my voice, you know that? My little slut."

You nodded, a small smile tugging on your lips as his deep sultry voice landed on your ears. You wish you weren't so crazy and delusional but when he talks to you like that you turn to mush all over again. Your fingers grew in pace, palm of your hand also stimulating your swollen clit.

"You wanna cum pretty girl?"

"Yes, yes I do." You were whining, the sounds growing in pitch and volume the more you moved your hand. "F-fuck, oh my god.."

"You can cum. Cum as hard as you want, but don't you dare stop."

You kept going, fingering yourself harder and harder. The moment you curled your fingers inside of you, you came hard, vision turning blurry and mind going fuzzy. You were already so sensitive, but you were a good girl so you didn't stop. You wouldn't dare stop.

"I want you to cum for me again. I love it when you cum for me. I wish I could see it. I wish I could feel it. Feel that tight pussy around my cock squeezing me tight. I know you want that too. I know you want my big cock to stretch you good."

Your moans bounced off the walls, back arching off the bed as you kept thrusting your fingers. It was too much, but it felt so good. Too good. Your cunt was squeezing your fingers once again, wet squelches coming from between your legs.

"If I had you, I'd fuck you so good you wouldn't remember your name. You'd love that wouldn't you?"

"Yes, fuck yes.." You were gasping for air, eyebrows scrunched together right as you stared down at your hand, watching your fingers go in and out of you.

"But for now, I just need you to cum in your perfect, soft hands. Make a bigger mess for me. You can do it."

"J-Jisung, shit.." You came, and you said his name. You've never done that before. Maybe you're a little in too deep, but Jesus, there is no one that could make you see stars the way you did just now. There's no one who can make you shake by just talking the way you did just now.

"Do you feel better? Are you still stressed because if you are, I guess I didn't do my job. But when have I ever failed, hm? Now clean yourself up and get some rest for the next day, or the rest of your day. Bye beautiful."

The audio finished, leaving you heaving on top of your covers. Usually, you would just get up and clean up, but you felt different now. You moaned his name out loud like a crazy person. You were definitely in a little too deep. Maybe you needed to take a break from your nightly routine.

Just as you were about to close the app on your phone another notification popped up.

"surprise :)"

And just like that your night got a whole lot more interesting.

[glassrowboat]

🐻 carnival prize

Another Shot. Lyney.

Author's note: Sorry this took so long. This piece was just fighting me the entire time for some reason :/

Word count: 2,400+

“You suck.”

You couldn't help but click your tongue as, once again, the blond across the sticky counter, no doubt from countless grubby fingers and spilled cups containing fizzy soda with lids that weren't quite put on right, missed his target. The bright red and white circles seemingly teasing him as they waved back and forth with the poster boards of some animals they were slapped onto.

Well, this was the ‘Hunters Paradise’ shooting game.

“I am trying here.” The blond protested with a slight whine in his voice that you welcomed the sound of far more than the same song you've been forced to listen to on repeat for hours. The entire duration of your shift always proved to have that song playing in your ears even as your head hit a pillow in hopes of some quality shut eye. Haunting you even in your dreams.

Behind him was a woman with a funnel cake and white powder staining her gloves. Not that she seemed to mind, though, as she asked if he really was trying at all.

Aka: the popular brother and sister act of Fontaine standing right before you, and failing at playing a simple game while they're at it.

��You know, magician, I thought you'd be a bit better at this whole rigged games thing considering your profession revolves around sleight of hand.”

Or that he'd be slightly self-aware enough to realize these were just a complete money sink. Not that it seems that way as Lyney once again placed a few mora on the counter, even when his sister's tail twitched at the sight.

Another shot at the game to be had.

“One more try?” He asked.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, even as you picked up the basket containing the ammo (they were really just rubber bullets) and filled the plastic gun he had been holding back up to its limit. Six shots for another six failures.

“Haven't you learned any better?”

“Well, maybe I just need a good teacher to show me the way.” Lyned said with a wink.

You shoved the gun back in his hands, gesturing for Lyney to continue. Arm outstretched much like you'd seen the very man…if he could be called that..do five minutes earlier when some kids came up to him and asked Lyney to show them a few tricks.

It was a cute sight and certainly far more humble than the shows you've come to know him for. There was no grand spotlight shining on everything, setting a stage alight, but there were eyes full of excitement trying to track his every move.

It's why you thought he came over here in the first place, to give one of those tiny hands a toy to play with, but his flirting had quickly changed your mind on that conclusion.

“Just shoot, cause I'm not taking students.”

Miss. Miss. Miss.

At this point, you were just sharing a look with Lynette and trying not to snicker too obviously.

“Brother, I'm surprised you've been missing the targets so much when you're usually so skilled with a bow.” Lynette said, and that was enough to have your quiet giggles breaking out into a full fit even as you tried to hide them behind your hand.

“Well, dearest sister, this is very different from a bow.”

You were rolling another one of those rubber bullets, ones that are purposefully made with a weighted side, between your fingers as you muttered: “Yeah, right. Sounds like someone's making excuses.”

“Shouldn't you be a bit nicer to me here? I mean, I am putting in money to the booth you're running and all.” As he spoke, Lyney's words slowly trailed off, like even he knew that point was mute.

“I don't get paid enough to be nice.” You said, sticking your tongue out at him.

Not on minimum wage, anyway. It's barely enough to keep your teeth from gritting as that damn song starts again.

“Besides, you're like a celebrity anyway, so I'd imagine you have the money to blow on this.”

Another miss.

“So you've heard of me then? I didn't know my name was so popular in Fontaine. Especially not with such a lovely individual as yourself.”

“Yeah, I heard about you cause of that murder case trial.”

This time, you couldn't blame Lyney as he missed, not with the way he flinched at being called out. An accidental trigger poll. “Ah…well…I was on trial for another thing too if you didn't hear. I can tell you all about it.”

“Alright.” You said as you picked up another handful of bullets, already expecting Lyney to pay for another attempt as they rolled into your awaiting palm. “Regale me, magician.”

“Gladly. Now, picture this: a grand scene. One that has everyone holding their breath in sheer anticipation as I was brought to the stand as a thief. You see, the crime I committed was stealing your heart.”

As he spoke, Lyney was dramatically gesturing to himself with his open hand. Chest right over his heart. Or better yet: the frilled ruffles of his shirt.

(That outfit was not doing him any favors with the twink allegations.)

“He really does say some strange things.” Lynette said, trying to speak around the bite of her cake she had just taken. A notion you couldn't help but agree with.

As he missed again, you poked the pink stuffed rabbit hanging above you, the fuzz brushing against your finger as you forced it to swing back and forth from being jabbed at. Its little feet almost hit your head as you ducked under it. “You do know it would be cheaper to just go to the store and buy yourself a stuffed animal, right?”

“But, it wouldn't be the same, now would it?” Lyney reached up, grabbing the rabbit's leg to force it to stay still as he smiled at you. “This one would be given to me by you.”

You couldn't help the sigh that left you, not when he was such a persistent little bugger. Especially over something you're pretty sure your supervisor mentioned was bought in bulk for fifty bucks. “Next round then?”

Lyney nodded in agreement, repeating your words as you got everything ready again.

“I wasn't aware your downfall would be a single stuffed rabbit, brother.” You heard Lynette say as the trigger was pulled again.

“It's a big compliment to the thing, at least.”

“Thing.” She rolled your words on her tongue for a moment before shaking her head, and you couldn't help but wonder if her cat ears naturally twitched with the movement. “Perhaps we should give it a name. Maybe then it will convince my dear brother to actually be good at this game.”

“Reginald?” You asked.

Two sets of eyes landed on you, both with a raised brow right above them, clearly questioning why you chose that name of all things. “I've been in a regency romance kick. Don't worry about it.”

Lyney muttered a small “....Right.”

“Just-” You tapped the gun, only slightly annoyed by how you could feel a sticky residue left behind. Something you've had to wipe away countless times now only for it to return as another customer happily runs up to try their hand at this. “Just get back to playing the damn game.”

His laughter had you ducking your head, eyes cast down on the ground to count the few popcorn kernels around your feet.

Though you did smirk the second you saw Lyney missing the target again. A dancing deer going back and forth as if it came to life long enough just to stick its tongue out at him only to return to normal a split second later.

“So, you don't have any special tools to help you in that hat of yours?”

“Unfortunately, a magician can only hold so many items in these things without them being so tall they'd fall off my hat just by walking through a door.”

“I wouldn't worry about that then, I doubt you're even tall enough to touch the doorframe. Let alone have it knock anything of yours off.”

He shot the next bullet at you, hitting you right in the forehead before it fell to the ground with a soft plink.

“Oh now you can aim.” You rolled your eyes. “Don't make me take that from you.”

Much like one would with a misbehaving child.

“Well, I may be out of luck with my hat, but a magician always had a few cards up his sleeve.”

A shuffle of papers graced your ears, barely heard over the sound of the passing crowd and children's screams as they whirled around on the nearby roller coaster that spun your hair in its breeze everytime the carts rolled by, as Lyney suddenly held a few cards in his hands. Shuffling the small deck between deft fingers only for it to seemingly fly in the air with a mock surprised look on his face. One you rolled your eyes at to stop from focusing on the pout he put on only for the cards, or confetti really, to disappear with a flash.

“See?” He asked, just waiting to see your awed expression.

“Impressive. Anyway.”

As you turned away from him, you caught Lynette covering up her laugh as Lyney looked back at her, head snapping. Only to start whining a second later. “Here I am, the greatest magician in all of Teyvat being kind enough to share a free show, and I only get an ‘anyway.’”

Nodding Lynette replied back with: “You did get an ‘impressive’ too.”

“In a tone that clearly said our lovely booth vendor here didn't really think much of it!”

You were half tempted to pipe up and say you have a name, only pinned onto your chest in bold font and surrounded by stickers you slapped onto the badge, but you held your tongue. They'd figure it out eventually as you walked over to the dancing cardboard animals.

Moving up and down endlessly.

Maybe they really were taunting him, you thought as you pushed one over and a loud ringing that caused you to flinch back, despite the fact you were expecting it. A robotic voice calling out "you did great, hunter” in what had to be the most half-hearted attempt at sounding cheery (and you work with teenagers) catching the twins’ attention.

“Congrats, Teyvat’s best magician, you won.”

Holding back on your urge to mock his bow at the end of each show, you pull the pink stuffed rabbit Lyney was playing with early off the hook it was hanging on. Floppy ears whacking your arm as you held it out to him.

“Wait, but I didn't even shoot the target myself. I can't say I won anything if I didn't do it myself.”

“And that matters why?” You asked as you shoved it into his arms.

“Well- I-” Lyney hugged the rabbit tight, wrapping his arms around it as he fumbled over his words. Struggling to get just the right sentence that would catch your attention. “You see, Reginald here-”

“Because the rabbit was supposed to be for you.” Lynette piped up. Hands clapped together as she dusted off the powdered sugar clinging to them, letting the few crumbs left of her dessert fall to the ground.

“I was supposed to tell them that, sister!”

You looked down at the rabbit, big ears the same as always, and a bow tied around its neck suddenly seeming slightly more tolerable after all the stuffies you had to fix when the shipment first arrived. Sewing them back where they belonged took hours and left your fingers pricked and stained red to high Celesta. You had cursed them then…but now.

“For me?” You asked hesitantly.

Lyney rubbed at the back of his neck, the fabric of his shirt rustling slightly with the movement as it just barely concealed a nervous bead of sweat sliding down his skin. “That was the intention, lovely booth vendor. You see, I saw you watching my performance earlier and thought you would like a personal show. One that may or may not have included pulling Reginald here out of a hat.”

“And because he thought you were cute.”

“Sister!” Lyney cried. “Please, can you stop outing me?”

You found yourself watching the two, fingers twitching into the rabbit’s plush fur. Truly, it was amazing how bad of a wing woman Lynette was, but considering Lyney wasn't doing himself much favors before, maybe she isn't doing too bad of a job. Even if she is currently looking upset with him, ears pulled back at the sudden change in his volume.

“Sorry. My apologies, truly, just..please allow me to take it from here. A magician sometimes has to perform a trick or two without their assistant.” He playfully tipped his hat, Lyney’s expression just out of your sight as the twins stared at each other.

“You know,” you interjected, right when Lynette was about to open her mouth, “I wouldn't mind seeing that trick. Or two.”

Spinning around on his heel, Lyney looked at you, eyes wide. Not that you could blame him after being so abrasive, but to be fair, he did that to himself.

“I'm serious.”

“Really? You are?” Lyney asked, hand taking your own that was still keeping the rabbit dangling in the air that carried the scent of fried food on it.

With your confirmation, he pushed the rabbit back towards you with a smile. The same one you saw Lyney giving those children who were running around him as he performed trick after trick at their behest. “Then I'll entrust Reginald to be in your care. And um…”

Your brow raised as you waited for Lyney to finish his sentence, but he kept looking back between the rabbit you were now hugging to your chest and you.

Though, you were half expecting Lynette to chime in with another comment even as she stood to the side watching you two with a deadpan expression.

“And if you happen to actually win the game,” you pointed back towards the dancing cutouts that were once again primed to be shot at, “then your prize can be a date with me. If I get to pick where and when.”

“Well then, our lovely booth vendor,” Lyney said as he placed the coins on the counter, a small chime coming from the handful of mora as they bounced against each other. “Can I have one more round?”

Let's just hope giving him another shot works in your favor you thought as you once again filled the plastic gun full of ammo.