#one day i will get this one custom printed as well

[bekolxeram]

Day 2 of @bucktommyfluffebruary, cooking together.

Fashionably late as usual🙇🏻‍♀️

You can also read it on AO3

Secret Ingredient

rated T | 955 words

“Open up,” Buck holds up a wooden spoon full of red sauce to Tommy’s face. It’s a classic Italian-American meat sauce, made with a base of well sweated sofrito, a large can of San Marzano style tomatoes from Fresno, completed with huge, unctuous chunks of beef chuck, Italian sausages, even several oxtail pieces for texture and flavor, and finished with a touch of Italian herbs. The exquisite aroma by itself is enough to make Tommy’s stomach growl and his mouth water.

“How’s that?” Buck eyes his boyfriend gingerly, trying to gauge his reaction.

Tommy’s brows crease as he closes his eyes.

“Mmmmmm,” He hums in enjoyment, “that’s the tastiest thing I’ve had in a while.”

“Really? Let me try,” Buck grins while sampling a small amount of his creation.

He frowns the moment the sauce touches his tongue.

“It doesn’t taste right,” Buck sighs in disappointment.

“I love it! I’m Italian, so when I say a pasta sauce is good, it’s definitely good.”

“Half-Italian,” Buck leaves his wooden spoon on the counter top, then hangs his head down out of frustration. “I’m not saying it’s terrible, but it doesn’t taste like Miceli’s.”

Tommy wraps his arms around the younger man’s waist from behind, comforting him. “We can always go order some if you’re craving Miceli’s.”

“No!” Buck turns around instantly, “Miceli’s is banned, for eternity. We’re not going back to that cursed restaurant.”

“But… takeout doesn’t count?”

Buck pouts at Tommy’s smart-ass smirk.

“Okay, no more Miceli’s. That’s what I’m willing to do for love,” Tommy gives Buck a few soft pecks on his lips, until his pout transforms into a sweet, dimply smile. “My nonna used to tell me, the most important ingredient in Italian cooking is…”

“Love?”

“It’s a good guess, but I wouldn’t say line cooks working for near minimum wage love their customers.”

“Then what is it?”

“Patience. You can’t rush over the simmering step. You have to give the onions, carrots, garlic, tomatoes and meat time to breath, to slowly get to know each other, to mingle, until they morph into something greater than the sum of their individual selves, something entirely different, something more beautiful.”

“Your grandmother sounds like a very wise person.”

“She was.”

Buck ducks his head a little, looking up at Tommy flirtatiously through his lashes, “then, what should we do to keep us occupied while we’re waiting?”

Tommy contemplates for a few moments, just in time for the playlist in the background switching over to a new song. “I have an idea,” the sound of string instruments swell, before the gently shimmering guitar picking joins in, “you still owe me a dance.”

Tommy lets go of Buck, then extends one of his hands as invitation, “may I?”

I knew a boy who was swallowed by the sky

By the flashing lights

They hang on to each other tightly, arms splayed across each other’s back, chests flushed against one another. No fancy twirls, no choreographed moves, no spectators. Just the two of them, in the middle of the kitchen, swaying lazily, intimately to the music.

I knew a man who got lost in the big dark blue

And he came out alive

Just the two of them, getting lost in each other’s presence.

I knew a boy, I knew a man that looked a lot like you

──────

Eddie keeps knocking on Buck’s door, but no one’s answering.

Christopher accidentally left his fully finished, printed out and bound science assignment behind when Buck was babysitting.

Eddie debates internally whether to break out his spare key. On one hand, he wants to respect his friend’s privacy, on the other, Christopher’s assignment is due tomorrow. He’s made a promise to himself and his son to become the best father in human history, Buck and Tommy are probably out on a dinner date anyway, so he decides to let himself in.

The view inside of the loft is… strange, to say the least.

The lights are on, albeit somewhat dimly, with a pot of sauce bubbling on the stovetop. Yet, there doesn’t seem to be anyone home.

Right as Eddie’s about to take another step, he hears a voice gradually descending from upstairs.

“LAFD is here! I heard there’s someone stuck in the kitchen?”

“Yes! Please help me! An Italian man tied me up for being impatient with his sauce!” Another voice comes out of the kitchen, from under the counter top.

Eddie meets Tommy’s eyes as soon as the pilot reaches the bottom of the stairs. Somehow, Tommy has his turnout gear on. Only his turnout gear, nothing else.

“Oh, hey! Eddie,” Tommy hastily covers himself up with his coat, “what are you doing here?”

“Uh….. Chris…. He left his uh... homework here…”

“Oh yeah yeah yeah,” Buck’s head pops up from under the kitchen island, “I put it on the shelf right next to the door.”

“Are you…” Eddie asks Buck, pointing his finger downward.

“Um… yeah. Sorry I can’t help you because…” Buck wiggles his tied up wrist to get the point across, blushing a little in the process.

“No problem. I’ll just go… get it,” Eddie starts taking off towards the shelf, which is unfortunately in the general direction of the kitchen.

“No no no no no, stop!” Buck shouts before Eddie can walk any closer. “Tommy, can you go get it for him?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Tommy slowly waddles his way to his destination, clenching at his coat for dear life to protect his modesty. “Here you go.”

“Uh… thanks. I’ll just… leave you two to whatever this is.”

Eddie suddenly turns around on his way out, “wait a minute. Are you cooking or having sex?”

“Both?” Buck chuckles.

“Argh, why did I even ask?”

[cenfitto]

hey guys

[legionofpotatoes]

FYI I found this person on Etsy selling prints of your art. https://www.etsy.com/listing/1431557941/

You should file a DMCA claim to get it taken down. https://www.etsy.com/legal/ip-dmca/

I'll add it to the list, thanks

[nordic-language-love]

So many people saying online check in isn't reliable but literally I have never had issues checking in online before which is why I'm stressing to high heaven lmao

[ozzgin]

Request/Idea-

Male Yandere Lawyer x Female Embroider Reader (a lady who works as a tailor is fine too)

Imagine a man falling head over heels for that newly employed lady who hand embroiders beautiful handkerchiefs in a luxury shop he visits to get his custom suits! And he just trying to coax her into dating him, marrying him, and becoming his stay at home wife (and mother of his children eventually) 🥰🤭

Age difference? I need some DILF Daddy energy more in my life (but don’t make him an actual father…yet)

P.S. I adore your OCs and writing. And your artwork is way too fucking good! You’re art is just *chef’s kiss* infuckingcredible

-👘

Ooh, you know what this reminds me of? I have a yaoi volume from Scarlet Beriko, “Queen and the tailor”, about an interior designer that visits a legendary tailor whose suits will supposedly help you achieve success. The tailor turns out to be a scary looking, blunt man but nonetheless extremely talented. I liked the premise a lot, so it’s definitely interesting to try out a different perspective.

In this case I have the image of a patient, soft-spoken reader and a hurried, short tempered lawyer. Comically different but in a way that eventually works out, you know? Also thank you for the kind words!

Yandere!Lawyer x Embroiderer!Reader Headcanons

Featuring a Reader that is blissfully unaware the lawyer she just stared dating has their entire life together already sorted out.

Content: female reader, age gap, older yandere, obsessive behavior

Your eyes begin to hurt mildly, so you look out the window and blink repeatedly, trying to refresh your poor sight. Such detailed works always strain you terribly, but you love seeing the finished result. Others must, too, given your handkerchiefs are often sold out the very same day. Right before your needle pierces the silk canvas anew, the door opens with a burst and you jolt. An older man in a suit, arguing loudly over the phone. He’s drumming his fingers over the counter, eyes darting around in search for an attendant. You know the type quite well, so you hurry over with the hoop still in your hand. “Might I help you with anything?” You mouth discreetly. He turns to you, stares for a couple of seconds, and promptly ends his call.

Out of all the places, he certainly didn’t expect regretting his rusty, unpolished flirting skills in a luxury tailor shop. Yet here he is now, clumsily mumbling something about his new suit he’s come to pick up and wondering how to connect that with your number. The name’s the easy part, as it’s neatly and conveniently printed out on the little badge pinned to your collar. Everything else, not so much. You excuse yourself and return moments later with his order. Shit. You tilt your head, confused by the delayed response, worrying whether you forgot something. Next time. He’ll figure it out for sure next time he comes here.

If there’s one good thing about his career, it’s that his eyes have been trained to spot every detail. For example the embroidery hoop you gently held while speaking to him, so he knows exactly what his next custom order will be. Truth be told, he didn’t anticipate your popularity and long waiting times, but a calculated raised tone with a sprinkle of intimidation has convinced the employee to assign him to you as earliest priority. Whether he can flirt remains to be seen, but arguing with others? Child’s play.

“Thank you for coming again today.” You bow slightly and extend the gift bag. “Although, I must say…I’ve never seen you using these before. What has caused your sudden interest in handkerchiefs?” Rather bold of you to begin such conversations, but your curiosity is too great. No matter how hard you try, you can’t imagine why a blunt, nonchalant man like him would abruptly become passionate about embroidery. A lover? You smile faintly at the idea. Whoever it is, they’ve taken quite the challenge upon themselves. The lawyer frowns at the inquiry. It seems you’re just as observant as him. Maybe this shall be the pretext he can finally cling onto. So he presents it in the factual truth you’d hear in a courthouse: it’s his excuse to see you. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Well now, isn’t it just silly? He could’ve simply asked. Buying countless expensive handmade items instead of plainly confessing his intentions…He stumbles, flustered. The same man whose ruthless reputation has even reached your humble ears is anxiously awaiting your response with a deep blush on his face.

The childlike innocence doesn’t last long. You’ve agreed to date him and that’s great, but he’s a man with little time that has known exactly what he wants for many years. When he laid his eyes on you he didn’t imagine cheesy coffee dates as you discuss your favorite color and cautiously breach the topic of intimacy. What’s the point? He’s already certain he’ll spend the rest of his life with you. Skip the unnecessary steps. On the other hand, you’re not as cooperative as he’d wish. Truly, the tangible proof that opposites attract. You’re always calm and take your time with everything. It’s almost frustrating how easygoing you are. When asked when you’re moving in with him, you just smiled and wondered out loud what could be wrong with your small studio above the shop. Marriage? Good question, you never thought about it.

Oh, the irony. Last time a client was being particularly difficult, your lawyer boyfriend pulled him out by the collar under the mortified stares of the other attendants and shoppers. The exact attitude he himself would’ve shown before, yet this time it’s different. Of course it is, it involves you. His thin patience runs out if it’s you. That’s all there is to it. Can you blame a man for following his heart? They say you should always chase your dreams; he prefers hunting them down efficiently, and the shotgun is pointed in your direction. His sweet, exquisite prey he can never get enough of.

Finally you agree to move in with him. Your hesitation was maddening and he’d started coming up with downright psychotic alternatives to convince you, such as your studio burning down after a vicious attack of some unknown hooligans. So it was rather wise of you not to push someone that knows the law like the back of his hand, even if you aren’t aware of it yet. He enthusiastically guides you around your new forever home, omitting unimportant details. The spare office he emptied for a future nursery? You’ll get to that later.

He can’t wait to spoil you. See, that’s the advantage of dating an older man. He’s gotten his life sorted out a long time ago. All that was left was finding you. You just need to be a darling and behave. He knows you will. After all, you’re his talented little embroideress that won’t have to worry about anything else ever again.

[wp100]

Why were customers so ducking rude today. Who pissed in their Cheerios I swear to god

[gremlingottoosilly]

Deaf!Reader are struggling to earn money to pay off their rent and living expenses, by handing out leaflets on the street X Mafia!Konig

(one time, I was walking past the metro, and there was this lady handing out leaflets to men. I wanted to take the leaflet as well because I always wanted to help the people who were handing it out, but she looked at me super weirdly when I took the leaflet. Turns out, it was a leaflet for illegal prostitution sites (sex work is banned in Czech Republic) You just needed money. The disability payments are dogshit and wouldn't even cover half of the expenses of renting your own place - but all the other jobs are basically blocked to you on the basis of not having enough resources to support a deaf worker. You know it's just their saying, they simply don't want to hire you even for brownie diversity points - but still, the only jobs that you could get without much of an education is something as shitty paying as handing leaflets. At least you can just not read the lips of people who are clearly cussing you out for bothering them with an abysmal task of accepting a thing piece of paper. Only, the gig is just a bit too shitty. It's illegal; technically, sex work is still as banned as always - you stare at the leaflets with half-naked women printed all over, disguised as dating websites, and you want to puke over how fucking terrible it looks. Still, they were paying a bit more than usual, and cops won't bother you as long as it's not a direct sex work endorsement. The people on the streets are having weird reactions, however... Konig had a shitty day and an even more annoying night. Having to oversee a big drug deal himself because Horangi was out dealing with some transgressors, and Krueger can't be trusted with customer service, he had to stay awake at ungodly hours just to finish the deal...and now there is some dumb girl handling him a leaflet for his fucking sex business like she doesn't know who he is and can't hear that he said he doesn't want it three times already and- He notices the way you stare at his lips and ignore the yelling of other people crowding around during rush hour at the station. Oh. Konig guesses even the illegal business of his had to get more open for workers with disability...although he looks at your cute lips and just knows he is ready to promote you from handling leaflets to never holding anything heavier than his hand (and his cock) ever again. Needless to say, you were terrified when this big, grumpy man in a suit just fucking grabbed you hand and pushed you into an unmarked and clearly dangerous-looking vehicle. Of course, sometimes people are annoyed at receiving brochures, but not to the point of kidnapping...and certainly not to the point of bringing you to their lap and then forcing a hand between your legs, squeezing and playing with the flesh like you were nothing but a stress toy. Not being able to read his lips since you were pressed so closely to him, terrified you even more...although his intensions are pretty clear when you felt a kiss pressed to your forehead, and a gentle hold on your neck until you finally passed out in his hands.

[suguann]

Possessive!Geto who pretends he doesn't care when he overhears that a new high-paying customer comes to the club every Friday to watch you specifically perform on stage, knowing he can’t really do anything about it unless a patron breaks the rules printed on a neon sign above the bar—No touching the dancers unless you're tipping—even if he’s the one in charge.

He’ll smile and nod, shaking hands with big spenders with sleazy smiles in the VIP lounge while his eyes find you from the other side of the room as you climb into another man’s lap.

He can’t stop his jaw from clenching when that same customer tips a month’s worth of rent every week or asks about private shows even though you don't do them. How he notices you smiling prettily for this customer, eyelashes fluttering with stars in your eyes to match the glitter on your cheeks before you walk off stage toward the dressing rooms. 

Sometimes you play the part of making a lonely man feel wanted too well. 

Possessive!Geto whose hand tightens around his glass tumbler, watching the man who’s been coming to see you (now twice a week) slip a thick white card into the top of your stockings. The fact that he touched your thigh with his dirty hands irks Geto the most.

In times like this, he wishes he had never come up with the rule about keeping your relationship a secret—so nobody thinks I’m picking favorites—because regret is a thick pill to swallow.

When you walk up to his office later, Geto wastes no time by dragging you down onto his lap, trailing his nose down the slope of your neck where your soft-smelling perfume is strongest and sucking a bruise into the hollow of your throat for everyone to see. 

You’re still wearing those cross-stitch stockings—the feel of them under his hands making him halfway hard—and he yanks the bodice of your dress down just underneath the swell of your breasts to get rid of the thought of another man touching you.

“B-but, Suguru, we’re at work—”

“Let me enjoy these pretty tits, huh?” he growls before sucking a nipple into his greedy mouth.

You whine his name, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

The blinds to his floor-to-ceiling windows are open, but it's tinted glass so nobody can tell what happens behind locked doors. Except, when he glances toward the busy club below, he wishes everyone in the building could witness what it looks like for you to fall apart under his hands—a personal show you put on just for him.

Only him. His fingers hook inside you to feel you tight and hot around him as a reminder.

Possessive!Geto who has enough one day after that customer asks for another private session—this time, he goes to Geto directly.

It’s a busy night, and every dancer works the floor. Well, almost. 

You’re kneeling between his spread legs, spit dribbling down your chin, whimpering while trying to open your throat for him.

He brushes your hair away from your face, watching your mouth messily slurp around his cock under his desk—his jaw is slack, and his other hand clenches on the armrest of his chair. “So good—fuck, baby—so fucking pretty,” he mutters, his top teeth catching his bottom lip.

His head tilts back when you eagerly fill your mouth with him again and again until he feels you choke, making his thighs flex under your hands. Geto’s thumb smooths an arc across your cheek.

“There you go,” he huffs. “I love that little mouth—”

There’s a knock on his door, and he feels you panic, moving to pull off his cock. But the hand in your hair tightens, keeping you pressed against him. Your nails bite into his skin, tears prickling your lashline as small distressed mewls escape your lips.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop,” he hisses. “Not unless I say so.”

Another knock echoes in his office.

“Come in.”

The customer with the too-shiny tie and a penchant for slipping thousands into your g-string opens the door with a smile on his face and a glint in his eye, sauntering into the room like he owns the place. “How about that deal—”

Whatever he’s about to ask is lost on Geto because his ears are ringing when he feels you swallow around him, and his balls draw up tight against his body, and—

Possessive!Geto who grunts when you moan around his cock as he cums down your throat, his lips twitching at the look of shock on the customer’s face.

“I’ve heard your deal,” he says eventually, glancing down at your glazed eyes and wiping away what little mess escaped your mouth with his thumb. “But she’s not yours to take.”

[l3viat8an]

Can we get some Solomon nsfw? 

Nsfw!

This has been chillin’ in my drafts for awhile ‘n I’m honestly not sure why anymore- I think I wanted to add something but the idea is long gone so rather then scraping it, here’s some vv random Solomon nsfw hcs!!!!

Hear me out,,, riding Solomon, now I know I say this a lot- but I genuinely mean it!- Solomon is one of the prettiest moaners you’ll ever hear!!! And he looks so pretty underneath you, with his cheeks flushed, brows furrowed, and the sweetest filthiest words falling from his lips between sweet moans when he cums.

Solomon loves the feeling when you tug on his hair or scratch your nails down his back when things get a little rougher in bed. The next day he’ll walk around purgatory hall shirtless (don’t worry Luke is out sweets tasting with Beel!!) he treats your scratches like trophies, and he’s utterly shameless about it- he wants Simeon and Raphael to see them and hopefully get jealous too. Solomon really enjoys flaunting just how well he fucks you.

Other times Solomon simply likes watching you- like say if you’re not in the mood to let him touch you, at least let him watch? Please? Extra points if you let him tell you what to do! Or maybe use some of his phantom hands? After all he’s still not technically touching you. With Solomon you have to word everything carefully or he’ll find a loophole, especially if it’s to touch you. And he knows exactly how to touch you, it’s hard to stay clear headed or even mad at him. You’re too busy cumming

Solomon has what he probably calls ‘a jerk off drawer’ it’s got a few polaroid nudes you gave him for his last birthday, a couple prints of you two together, and a few more that look like you passed out on his bed after sex. Then a pair of your dirty underwear, in his favorite color of course and lastly a custom pocket pussy, he magically made himself- he only opens the drawer when you’re not around and he’s feeling extra needy or when he wants to add something to his collection.

[hhoneyhams]

Full Count - Modern Laios/F!Reader

Word Count: ~2.7k

Features: lots of inappropriate uses of company time (ahem), closet sex, destruction of store property, technical difficulties, and pizza 'n soda for morale! It also gets a little sappy at one point, yippee!

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!! ESRB RATED M FOR MATURE (Technically A/O but who uses that anymore?? )

Content Warning: Unprotected sex, public sex, and cream pies

The reader has female genitalia and is human. I tried to keep all other descriptions/pronouns to a minimum.

Author's Note: Shout out to @toxycodone for making the post that inspired this whole thing! Minimum wage worker Laios is a darling idea, but thinking about him working in a video game and collectible store just stole my HEART! I'd let him tell me all about his D&D campaign and his most recent Skyrim run any day 🖤

“--have a good night!” you call out to a departing customer. As the door shuts behind them, you turn off the neon ‘open’ sign and begin your closing duties. 

Instead of wiping down the windows and letting the shutters down, you were handed pencils and two printed-off sheets of paper attached to clipboards.

“You and Laios go do the pre-owned and new console count, I’ll see what I can do about the internet before the night is over,” your boss sighs, pulling out their phone to make some calls. Your eyes meet Laios’ as he pauses what he is doing on the sales floor to make his way to the area behind the registers.

“The internet went down?”

“I think that storm knocked it out earlier…” you theorize, handing him the other pencil and clipboard. “We were having trouble over here with the POS and cards.”

“Oh, it's down-down then,” the blond confirms. You grab your second soda can of the night and your keys to the back room. He follows suit after he takes another piece of pizza, cold and tough from airing out on the counter. “That’s lame.” 

Taking care of a count by hand is nothing for you, but using your extra hours to redo a count isn’t your idea of a fun Friday night. The day of full-count inventory for your store was quickly looming, the internet going out another hurdle in the way of your freedom.

The two of you lock yourselves into the back. You open the side closet that holds both sets of consoles to count. The closet wasn’t cramped, but you were a bit cozy in there. Various gaming consoles lined the walls and were stacked along the floors.

You and Laios were rarely scheduled together, but you always enjoyed yourselves when you were. You met him at a staff meeting shortly after he started at the store. The whole night you had ended up talking about everything from dungeon-crawler games to Dungeons and Dragons, to even discussing the potential of getting some friends together to do a joint playthrough of one of his favorite games in the Monster Hunter series.

It isn’t a secret that you find him attractive. Your other co-workers poke fun at how you clam up around him. You’re just content with listening to him ramble, unlike some of the others. 

Usually, people don’t last at this job long enough for you to get attached, but you know you’d be a little sad to see him go. 

Your phone vibrates in your pocket with a text from your manager. Laios’ phone has been forgotten somewhere out front so he glances over your shoulder to read the text:

‘Going home. Finish the count and lock up when you’re done. Someone should be bringing us a router from another store tomorrow.’

Leave it to a manager to have you clean up their mess…

“Shit, why do we still have to do this then? I mean, if we’re just going to be back up and running tomorrow morning, why stay late and see if everything is there?” you vent to Laios, setting the clipboard down on the ground and flopping straight onto your ass. “They can’t even see if we’re actually doing this, so why not fudge these numbers and go home early…”

“Well, think of it this way,” he begins, sitting down beside you and settling his clipboard neatly in his lap. “They can’t see that we’re sitting down and taking care of it!” He begins to scan along the consoles sitting on the floor, marking off each console he finds by the serial number.

He was so content with the mundane that it hurt. He was a real ‘yes, ma’am’ ‘no, sir’ kind of worker, always coming to work with a smile on his face.

You felt like a bad influence every time you worked with him…

Your other coworker, Kabru, always makes it known just how much he wants to choke Laios during their shifts together. Something was very endearing to you about how dedicated he could be to a part-time position like this.

You joined him…and continued your work on the floor.

“--so our DM, right? This guy-”

“Our district manager or your dungeon master?”

“Oh, dungeon master, got mad at me for rolling SUPER high on a perception check and went after my sister’s character for it. So our next session is going to be us trying to get her back from a dragon. We’ve got to take some time off because we lost a couple of people but I’m ready to throw down next time!” he says, determination in his voice. You give him a smile in response, your mind pretty occupied by the task at hand. 

He continues to prattle on excitedly about some of the other escapades his party took place in as you counted the rest of everything that you could whilst sitting on the floor. You were always scared of whatever googly-eyed look you’d give him as you listened intently, so you would usually throw yourself into your work as he talked.

He was kind of like a big, hunky podcast or something…

“Alright, we’ve gotta get up now…” you huff, slowly getting up by grabbing onto one of the wire shelves for support. The hard linoleum floor was not doing you any favors in the comfort department and cut off the circulation to your legs.

You stumble forward and fall on top of Laios, jerking down the shelf you held onto for support, and flinging some of the handhelds onto the floor with you. His strong hands catch you around your middle so you don’t bang your heads against each other. 

A shot of heat rushes through you, embarrassment flushing your face and the telltale signs of butterflies blooming in your belly.

Were you really that touch-starved?

“There goes the Switches, 3 if you need to write it down,” he points out, not making any moves to let go of you as he does so. You settle down in his hands and look over your shoulder to see if he is actually right. 

You’ll have to test those to make sure they still work before you go home…

Laios continued to hold you, almost memorizing the way your body felt under his hands despite the space between the two of you that remained. 

Per your training modules, you knew that physical advances between coworkers were strictly prohibited on the store’s premises. This was clearly an accident, but if the prolonged touching between the two of you said anything, it's that it wasn’t exactly unwanted. 

Laios looks up to the ceiling, the light on the console room’s camera no longer pulsing red like it usually does.

“If the internet is out, the cameras are as well. You can’t get in trouble…”

Your eyes bore into his as you gaped in astonishment.

What is he implying…? 

There are a few beats of silence between the two of you before you close the gap, pressing a heated kiss to his lips and tangling your fingers into his soft shirt. He melted into the kiss, gripping your hips tightly to hold you against him. His lips were slightly chapped and he tasted like the pizza and soda from before.

“I’ve been wanting to shut you up all night,” you mumble, a smile stretching against your lips as you press more kisses against his.

“I thought you liked listening to me!” His tone is genuinely shocked as he says it, taking on a nervous edge like he has done something wrong. You hush him, rolling your eyes.

“I do, but holy shit, you’re so distracting!”

“You’re distracting too!” he fusses, pressing an accusatory finger to your nose playfully. “I’m always trying to get your attention and you never look at me!”

“I’m trying not to give you ‘fuck me’ eyes while you talk about Skyrim!” you confess, swatting his hand away. Telling him causes your cheeks to burn hotter than they have before. 

Suddenly, you feel something (or someone, rather) graze the underside of your rear. Laios’ cock strains against his pants as he looks away from you, his face turning a rather deep red to match the shirt he was wearing. He blushes all the way from the tips of his ears and down his neck.

“You…you want to fuck me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

It totally wasn’t. Laios didn’t think you liked him that much at all. He would see the way your eyes lit up at certain conversation topics and he did his best to keep your interest, but you always found something to distract yourself with. He’d even resorted to yelling across the store at you as you darted around to straighten up the shelves or stock. You didn’t tell him to shut up like Kabru or Toshiro, but you didn’t engage with him a ton.

He has caught your gaze on a couple of rare occasions, but you would quickly dart your eyes away when you found out that he had noticed. If you were worried about making him uncomfortable, he would have rather known that he wasn’t making you feel that way.

He wanted to make it all up to you. You now know so much about him, but he wanted to take the time to get to know everything about you. He’s heard you talk about your favorite game once or twice, but he wants to know exactly when you played it and why it is your favorite. He wants to know silly stuff, like your favorite Pokémon. He wants to know why you listen to him and why you don’t talk over him or cut him off. He wants to know how long you’ve liked him…

He wants to know why you’re so afraid to look at him…when it's all he ever really wanted. 

His thoughts run wild in his head about everything he wants to know about you, but they go silent the second you go in for another kiss.

Well…He knows you want to fuck him!

Your hands are cold from the store’s A/C, Laios ends up jumping slightly as you drag your hands underneath his shirt and along his back and sides. He lifts his arms up for you to pull the shirt off of him and wraps them back around your body in turn.

It was pretty damn cold in there, though.

In a heat-of-the-moment, split decision, he decides to reposition you so he can pull himself free of his pants. His overactive fingers struggle with the buckle of his belt as he begins to curse. You take over for him as he laughs at himself.

“Sorry, I’m a bit nervous… it's exciting, really! But, holy shit, I’m not used to all of this,” 

You don’t blame him, it's riskier than anything you’ve ever done in your life. You’re working part-time in a game store, your life isn’t remotely exciting enough to have had sex in public, much less at work and ON THE CLOCK.

From his perspective, he just found out that you liked him 5 minutes ago and now you’re pulling his dick out to suck him silly in your store’s console closet. Make it make sense!

Laios lets out a few quiet moans as you run your tongue along his cock, looking him straight in the eye. It’s everything he could have ever asked for, but he’s jumpy and keeping one eye on you and one on the door. You pull away and use the remaining spit to jerk him lazily with one of your hands. His head thrashes to the side and he lets out a low cry. 

“You know we’re still the only ones here…you don’t have to be quiet, Laios,” you simper. He breathes heavily and grabs your shoulder to stop your ministrations.

“We’ve got to be quick, I can’t wait much longer,” he rasps out. His hands begin to pull at your shirt. “I want to see you, please…”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice!

Laios’ eyes and hands are glued to your tits as you ride him, his fingers pinching your nipples as he notes the size and the way they bounce with you. Your body was something else to him, it was so familiar and foreign at the same time. He’d notice your shape, your clothes, and the way they complemented your figure and movement as you worked.

…yeah, you were distracting.

To have that same body held within his hands, wrapping snugly around his cock, crashing onto him and around him…He wonders how he could have gotten so lucky. 

“I’m…I’m standing up, I-I’ve got you,” he grits out, every movement against you bringing him closer and closer to the precipice. You wrap your arms and legs around him tightly, your fingernails digging into the muscles of his back as he hoists you up. You reach between your bodies to help guide him back in. 

He’s hitting at a new angle, pistoning in and out of you without abandon. Your curses and moans are buried into his shoulder as he keens out. His grunts and his sighs go straight into your ear, his encouragement not lost.

“F-fuck, I want you to look at me,” he says breathlessly. You tear your head from his shoulder and do as he requests. His face is red, sweat dripping from his brow, his iris blown black as his eyes dilate, and his jaw is slack as moans tumble from his mouth. His eyes aren’t staying open as he slams into you, his thrusts losing their rhythmic staccato. “Y-you’re amazing, and this is–”

“Laios, I’m s-so close,” you interrupt him, grabbing him and pulling him forward for a kiss. Your moans are rumbling in your throat as he picks up his pace again. You pull away long enough to breathe but find yourself back on his lips once more. 

You grab and hold one of the wire shelves for support, the position being a bit taxing to maintain for the both of you. He goes to warn you not to do it again but your grip and his movement cause the shelf to fall from the wall just like it did last time. You both yell and your body clenches around his, causing him to double over and almost drop you. 

There goes a whole PS4…

“Fuuck, shit, I don’t care, I don’t care, j-just keep going!” you shout, clawing along his back. Everything around you was becoming too much to bear. The sound and feel of your wetness, skin slapping against skin, the sweaty heat cooled by the A/C. You closed your eyes tightly, you focused on the orgasm rising in your belly, you let yourself get closer, and closer, and–

“I’m gonna cum inside you!” Laios announces with a line of drool running from the seam of his lips. He continued splitting you open with his cock, his form was sloppy but he held you so close to him.

Your orgasm ripped through you, causing you to clench against him tightly. Laios fucked you through your release and came shortly after, pressing you down onto himself as he shuddered and groaned. You weren’t sure how the two of you were able to stay upright after that.

Your legs on his back slide down and you hold onto him for support as he slides back out. His pants were still around his ankles, so it was a quick getaway for him to come back with some of the scratchiest brown paper towels your bathroom had to offer.

“T-thanks,” you say, trading his shirt you fished off of the floor for the paper towels. He hums, still pretty dazed. He sits right back in the floor against the wall as you change, watching you almost enraptured as you pull enough clothes on to toddle to the bathroom and finish cleaning up. “That was…something.”

It was something good though.

The rest of the night was spent testing those consoles that fell, just to make sure they weren’t broken. Luckily enough, everything was in working condition, even if the wire shelves remained discarded to the side of the room.

The two of you agreed to just say you clocked out earlier since it was pushing on midnight. You shared the rest of the pizza in the parking lot and drove your separate ways home. After you got inside your apartment, you received a text from Laios:

‘I don’t think we ever finished those counts…’

End Notes: Some of the work stuff is so specific...Don't ask lol

I'm still working on getting more confident with writing smut and oneshots. I've been writing fanfiction for years but it was all super involved multichapters that never went anywhere! Either way, I really hope you enjoyed reading this because I sure as shit enjoyed writing it!! 😎

Minor edits will be made if I find any mistakes and constructive criticism is always appreciated! (Just don’t be an ass about it 👀)

Credits: Dividers by @/cafekitsune, cover art from 'Daydream Hour' scans

🖤 Rules | Ask Box | Masterlist 🖤

[thrillered]

Spencer at a " Y/N L/N is dead | The funeral roast" pretty please🫶

(Bonus points if after roasting reader he gets all sentimental and reiterates that he CANNOT live without them or he'll just die on the spot)

"Y/N is dead. | The funeral roast" | Spencer Agnew x Reader

this was so fun to write! I hope you enjoy it!

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You were sitting in the blue velvet coffin, a bouquet of fake black roses in your hands and tears in your eyes. You were in the middle of shooting your funeral, surrounded by your friends and coworkers as they roasted the hell out of you. Right now Shayne was playing the CEO of converse, crying over who was going to keep them in business now that you were gone. You looked down at your pair of custom smosh platform converse you were wearing that Ian had bought you for your 3 year ‘smoshiversary’. 

Shayne finished his bit, earning claps from throughout the room. You peaked one eye open, looking to see who was going next. Tommy was stepping up to the podium, his signature lace funeral hat on. 

“Friends, coworkers… those who somehow managed to deal with Y/N, I am here to read the final will of Y/N L/N.” He began, pulling a piece of paper out of his long black leather jacket; a dig at your favorite coat you thrifted. “She left a lot of things for those she loved, I will not be reading those today.” 

You laughed, peeking at the offended looks on everyone's faces. 

“Courtney, Y/N leaves you her sense of humor. There wasn’t much of it but it was stolen from you to begin with.” Courtney gasped while Shayne let out a pfft. He turned his attention to Shayne, “Shayne, everyone knew of the “fake” beef the two of you played up on camera… so to you she left her 17 pairs of platform converse, this way you don’t have to look up to her… maybe now you'll see eye to eye.” 

You pulled a hand over your mouth, attempting to muffle the loud cackle that was escaping you. “Well damn.” Shayne sputtered. 

“To Angela Y/N leaves her entire Le Creuset cookware set. Everyone knew you were jealous of it.” 

“Okay that’s not fair, it’s literally all light blue, it's gorgeous!” Angela exclaimed.

“And finally Y/N leaves Spencer her heart… and yet he’ll still probably ask if she actually loves him.” 

“That's crazy…” You huffed, through fits of laughter. The entire crew clapping and ‘ohhh’ing at Spencer. 

Tommy left the podium, grabbing your knees as he walked by the coffin, knowing you hated it. “I gotcha!” He sneered, making you yelp.

The only person left to speak was Spencer. He was in a full suit and tie, dressed for an actual funeral. He looked really good, you just wanted to stare at him. He approached the podium, a large binder in his hands. 

“In honor of Y/N’s memory I would like to start by going through some of my favorite memories with her in this photo album.” Spencer declared, opening to a middle page of the album. “This is when Y/N and I met.” He turned the binder around, showing a picture from your first day at Smosh. 

Awe’s could be heard around the room. You scrunched your brows, not trusting Spencer to only be nice. “Then I got to know her…” He hesitated, pulling an awkward and tight grin across his face. “Then she passed. That’s my favorite” He showed a picture of you sitting in the coffin, clearly taken today.

“What the fuck?” you asked, “How did you print that so quickly?” 

“The dead don’t talk.” Erin reminded from the seats, earning a middle finger from you. 

“Anyway, time for the eulogy.” Spencer continued, tossing the album away from him, a loud clap echoing in the room as the binder hit the ground. “The world went quiet when Y/N died… mostly because she couldn’t cackle like a banshee anymore… frankly? Pretty peaceful.” 

“Oh my god.” Amanda laughed, covering her face.

“I think we can all agree that Y/N was an integral part of this company and an integral part of this cast.” Everyone nodded, Angela pretending to wipe away tears. “I mean.. Who else is gonna be worse Courtney? Or shorter Amanda? Or Taller Angela? Or less clever Arasha? Or Shayne if he was a lady barista who wanted to be a skater?” 

“Jesus Christ man.” Shayne said, shaking his head in confusion.

“He’s not wrong.” Courtney agreed, putting a hand on Shayne’s shoulder.

“But things will never be the same without her. I am reminded of her constantly… mostly because her hair is everywhere. I don’t know how she still has hair, she literally sheds like a husky; whines like one too.” 

You were shaking your head, holding in a laugh, not wanting to give Spencer the win of your laughter. 

“But seriously, I love you Y/N. I don’t know what I would do without you, I think I would actually die. Please don’t make me sleep on the couch tonight.” Spencer admitted, making eye contact with you, a smile on his face. “You mean the world to me.” 

Spencer sat down. You waited a dramatic few seconds before sucking in a large breath of air, pretending to wake from the dead. “How long was I out for?” you asked, making everyone laugh. “That was some… nice?... things you guys said about me, thanks guys.” 

“Luckily I just came from hell so I can handle the heat… I wonder if you guys will do the same,” you smirked, pulling a folded piece of paper out of your bra, unfolding it and reading it aloud, “Call me sometime, satan? Oops, wrong paper!” You joked, tucking the paper away. 

“Man what the hell?” Spencer asked.

“Well that's where she was apparently.” Shayne reminded, making himself laugh. 

“Okay this is the right one,” You began, unfolding a larger paper. “Tommy… ur gay. Courtney… ur gay. Shayne….” You stopped, staring at him for a moment before simply moving on. “Angela… me and your mom genuinely text, and I want you to think about that.” 

“That’s actually devastating.” Shayne cackled.

“Amanda… we need to hang out more.” You insisted. “But maybe just at my house, I’m tired of having to climb a beanstalk to come see you” You joked, turning Amanda's sly grin into a face of shock. “Erin… Erin Erin Erin….I lied when I said I lost that blue shirt I borrowed… I still have it and wear it regularly.” You admitted. “And you’re not getting it back.” 

“You bitch!” Erin gasped, disgust crossing her features as you blew her a kiss. 

“Last.. and least!” You emphasized, “Spencer.. My best friend, my boyfriend, and my other half… if I’m gone you’re a glass half empty. If you’re gone, I’m a glass half full.” You informed. “That’s all to say: You’re Y/N L/N’s boyfriend, and that’s your most impressive accomplishment.”

Everyone laughed, teasing Spencer with an eruption of ‘ooh’s and agreements. 

“Seriously though, I love you all so much. Honestly the specificity of each roast made me really happy, you guys really know me and that means a lot to me.” You smiled, looking around the room to each and every one of your closest friends. “And a special thank you to Spencer for loving me, even through all the quirks and flaws that were mentioned here, I love you.” You finished, suddenly pretending to have a hard time breathing before collapsing into dead weight. Then quickly waking back up, “You’re still sleeping on the couch though.” You noted, staying ‘dead’ this time.

[teslacoils-and-hubris]

There's this show i only watched one episode of called ugliest house in America, and the premise is that the host goes around America looking at submitted ugly houses and the Most Ugly house gets remodeled at the end of the season.

All this only matters because the one episode I caught made me just.... really sad. They show three houses per episode and I don't really remember the other two houses because they were bland and not that interesting, but the one house, the one that won that round and was closer to being remodeled was obviously an artists house.

Everything in this house had been customized around the previous owners life Pasion: birds. And I do mean everything. They had literally printed out dozens of various drawings of birds and plastered them onto the basement wall. They had made tile mosseics of cranes right on the front entrance. Drawn egrets with what I'm pretty sure were crayons on the walls. And it was really obvious how many hours and how much love went into making this house something beautiful to that artist. And here it was, being toured around on television, touted as the ugliest house in America.

Every time they saw another bird the show played up the hosts surprise and eventually disgust. How WEEIRD that this unnamed, presumably dead artist was soooo into birds that they carefully crafted their whole life around them. The attic was an aviary for (the current owners assumed) pigeons. How silly and foolish and stupid that artist was for ruining the market value of their home by making it a shrine to something they loved. Do I blame the current owners? No. Of course not. I certainly wouldn't want to live in a house plastered wall to wall with birds with an attic that still smells like bird. But it's just..... the way they talked about it was upsetting.

There was no compassion for the person who put so much time and effort into lovingly crafting a house they really were happy in. The genuinely well done and skilled crayon drawings on the wall talked about the exact same way as you'd talk about a stain on the carpet. Unsightly. Strange. Unmarketable.

I look at my own room, lovingly crafted to be my oasis after a hard day. Halloween decoration sticker bats permanently on the wall. The ufo mural I spent a good month on that would probably be more at home in a minigolf course than a bedroom. Years of artwork both handmade and purchased tacked up to the walls. How much of it would the host mock. Teal walls sanded down and painted the off-white eggshell of marketability. It's going to happen regardless, I can't take the mural with me and even if I live in this house until I die someone will be here after me and they probably won't want it. But there's a certain kind of.... humiliating exposure of watching someone's heart and soul get torn apart on television. The ugliest house in America.

[yearsbecomingcool]

good boy | daniel markowitz 18+

donate to gaza here | masterlist | part 2

pairing | daniel markowitz x f!reader

synopsis | your best friend is there for you after a shitty day at work.

warnings | f!reader, me ranting about working retail, drug use, sexual context, premature ejaculation, hair pulling, subby!danny, and grinding.

word count | 3k

a/n | the lack of fics for daniel is insane to me so naturally i had to fix that. thelma is amazing and you all need to watch it, super fun and cute!! i'm so thankful the screenplay for thelma is up online because i used it as a guide for daniel while writing. there will be a part 2 to this i swear. next fic is going to be for caracalla and I'm very excited for it. if y'all have requests for any of fred's other characters please feel free to send them in :)

There’s nothing you hate more than a customer who comes in at the last minute. You were at your retail job, clearing the last of the hangers out of the fitting room when you heard the front door open. You glance over at your coworker, giving her an annoyed look. You drop your voice low, with an empty store and the music turned off it won’t take much for your voice to travel. “Who comes into this place right before closing, who needs jeans at 9:51pm?” You groan.

“Let’s just hope they’ll be quick.” She returns to sweeping up the fitting room. About five minutes later the customer, a middle aged woman with a haircut that screams ‘I will call your manager over nothing’, walks into the fitting room holding a pile of jeans. You decide to grit your teeth and open up a room for her before wandering off to the back to find your manager. You put in the door code and head into the back, pounding on the office door where your manager is counting the registers already. If this woman tries to pay in cash you all are fucked. You hear your manager putting up the money and she opens the door just a crack. “We just had someone come in to try on like ten pairs of jeans, should I tell her that we close soon, or?”

Your manager sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance. “I’ll handle it in a minute, just let her try it on for now and put someone at the front to make sure no one else comes in.” You nod in response and head back out to the floor, sending someone up to the front before you slip into one of the fitting rooms. You open your texts, a small blue dot next to your conversation with Danny. Sometimes you envied him being unemployed, right now is one of those times. You open up the conversation, smiling down at his message. He had finally watched the horror movie you’d suggested ages ago and was telling you how much he loved it. You type up a quick response as you hear the other fitting room door open, you slip your phone into your pocket and slip back out.

“Do you carry anything not…ugly?” She asks, motioning down to the pair of atrocious jeggings she’s tried on. You internally cringe at the printed on pockets and crease lines. 

You put on your best customer service voice and nod, “Yes ma’am. Do you know what you’re looking for?” 

She gives you a look that makes you want to quit on the spot, “If I knew what I was looking for do you think I’d be trying on so much shit?” 

You manage to stay calm, giving her a strained smile. “Well if there’s anything I can help you look for just let me know.” The woman shuts the door in your face and you sigh, slipping back into the fitting room you were just in. You pull your conversation with Danny back up and type out a text to him.

please tell me you’re free tonight, work is making me lose my mind 

You slip your phone back into your pocket and try to keep yourself busy. It’s ten minutes past close now and you’re getting more annoyed as every second passes. As you’re fixing the clearance section for the hundredth time your phone buzzes, a new text from Danny. 

i am

what time are you off? 

You smile and type back a response

i was supposed to be off at 10:30 but some karen came in and is trying off half the store

so when i know i’ll let you know

i need canes so bad tonight 

His response comes quickly. 

canes sounds so good 

do you want me to pick you up or?

You bite down on your lower lip, trying to decide. 

yeah

do you wanna stay over tonight?

a movie night and canes maybe?

Your phone buzzes again with his response.

sounds perfect

mom is driving me up the wall again

You send a thumbs up react and head back to the fitting room to see if that customer is gone yet. You sigh in relief when you see the door is open and then immediately want to bash your head into the wall when you see she left every single item she tried on in the room and on the floor. You can hear your coworker locking the doors and feel relieved that she’s at least gone now. You snap a quick picture of the mess and send it to Daniel.

i love my job.

He’s quick to reply, the message coming seconds after yours. 

canes will fix it

promise

You smile down at the message and quickly type out your response.

if it doesn’t i bought more edibles last week

You ignore his next messages to fix and put back the items she had left in the fitting room. You hold down the button on your walkie, “Are we still getting out of here at 10:30? I fixed all the stuff she left.” As soon as she replies you send Danny a quick text to let him know to be here at 10:30. You pray the next 15 minutes will go by quickly as you find things to busy yourself with until finally you can grab your things and leave. As you all walk up to the doors to leave you smile at the sight of his car in the parking lot, parked right next to yours. 

As soon as you’re out you’re quick to run to his car, knocking on the passenger window, scaring the shit out of him in the process. You throw your head back and laugh at the sight of him dropping his phone and screaming. He unlocks the door and bends down to scoop his phone up off the floor. You’re still laughing when you get in. “Holy shit, I forget how easily scared you are.” You drop your bag to the floor next to a crumpled Wendy’s bag and buckle up, leaning back comfortably in his seat. 

“You’re such a dick,” he mutters, still recovering from how you scared him. 

“You looooove me,” you tease, reaching over to ruffle his already messy hair.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you need to sleep at night,” he jokes, buckling up and turning the car back on. 

You sit in silence for a minute as he drives out of the parking lot. “Thank you for coming to hang out, work has been such a goddamn nightmare lately…I’ve missed you.” You say softly as you play with the rips in your jeans. 

He smiles, his cheeks turning pink, “I’ve missed you too…I started taking those classes at the community college last month. I’m not taking a lot but they’ve kept me a little busy.”

“I’m glad you’re doing them, I thought you were gonna lose it having to be stuck around your parents constantly,” you chuckle. As sweet as his parents are they can be a nightmare to be around at times, you think they’re why he’s so anxious but you’d never say that out loud.

“They’ve been driving me insane today, I keep telling them it’s so hard to get anywhere to call back but they think it’s bullshit. They haven’t had to apply for a job in like 30 years, they think you can still walk in and get an application,” he rants. 

“Oh my god…there’s no fucking way. Every time someone comes in to get an application we have to tell them to apply online, I feel like an asshole every time I have to tell them. Y’know you should come work with me, it sucks but it’s something at least. We’re hiring.” 

He smiles, “Maybe I will, then I can get paid to annoy you.”

You groan playfully, “Y’know what they actually just filled every position so-”

“Oh fuck off!” He laughs, pulling into the packed Canes drive through. 

“Do you know what you want, or?” 

You cut him off, “You have my order memorized by now.”

He holds his hands up defensively, “Hey! For all I know you could’ve picked tonight to branch out.” 

You roll your eyes, “When have I ever branched out with food a day in my life?”

“Fair point…” 

As you sit waiting for the line to move you glance over at Danny, you grab his wrist, examining the rip on his cardigan. “Dude, you need to throw this out, or like go get it fixed.” 

“If you think that little rip is bad just look at this.” He leans forward to show you an even worse rip towards the back of the dark blue cardigan.

“Jesus did something take a bite out of it? You know we sell one that looks a lot like that, I could always get you a new one.” You offer. 

“I like this one, it’s soft. Just let me wear it until it falls apart.”

You sigh, “I think it’s about halfway there, bud.” 

Silence falls over the car again, you scramble for something to fill it. You regret the first words out of your mouth. “So, how are things with Allie?” 

His face sours, he looks down at his lap trying to come up with an answer. “She’s got a new boyfriend…seems like he’s got his shit together, so y’know, that’s uh…good.”

“Shit, dude…” You place your hand on his shoulder, “She’s missing out. You don’t have it all together yet, and that’s fine, but you still have a lot to offer.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “You sound like my grandma,” he sounds amused.

“I still can’t believe she pulled a fucking heist to get her money back…what a legend.”

He laughs, scratching the back of his neck, “I don’t know how she pulled it off still, she’s incredible. God…I was so stressed that whole day.”

“Yeah, I know, you were practically blowing up my phone. But hey, I’d do the same if my grandma pulled something like that.”

He turns to you smiling, “Well if she ever does you have an expert to help you handle it,” he gestures to himself cockily.

“I’m sure you’ll be great at helping me freak out.”

He smacks your thigh playfully, “Hey, be nice if you want me to pay.”

“Right, right, can’t upset my sugar daddy…”

“Fuck off,” he cackles, rolling his eyes.

Once you get your food he starts heading back to your place, you feed him his fries while he drives, the radio playing softly in the background. “It’s a good thing we both got extra sauce, I don’t know why they don’t just sell bottles of this shit already,” you say as you dip another fry into the sauce for him. 

“If they did, I think we’d be enough to keep them in business,” he laughs.

Back at your place Danny makes himself comfortable on your plush couch, it was one your grandma had been nice enough to donate once you got your own apartment, a one bedroom just big enough for you and your cat. You retreat to your room to grab your edibles, a small baggie with candy that looks similar to Airhead Xtremes. You toss the bag into his lap as you plop down next to him, grabbing your Canes box off the coffee table. “Don’t take a lot, you know I’ve never been one to go for a low dose,” you caution. 

“Thanks for the warning, the last time I took some with you I woke up high.”

You laugh at the memory, “You were such a mess that night, I felt so bad.”

He pats your shoulder reassuringly, “It’s fine, I lived, didn’t I?”

“Unless I’m hallucinating you right now, then yeah, you did.” 

He takes his turn feeding you your fries as you scroll through your streaming services to find something to watch. You turn to him, “Are you gonna kill me if I put on Spree again?”

“I might,” he deadpans. 

You click on it anyway, starting the movie and taking a small bite off your edible, Danny doing the same. You lean your head on his shoulder, cuddling up to him like always. He glances down at you with a smile, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you in closer.

“I’ve missed this…I hate being busy.”

You smile up at him, “I wish I was rich, then I’d have all the time in the world to do whatever I wanted. I’d spend all my days watching movies, annoying the shit out of you. Sounds like a better life to me.”

“Then you could be my sugar daddy.”

You roll your eyes, “I practically am your sugar daddy, I barely let you pay for anything.”

“You shouldn’t do that y’know,” he says softly. “I still live with my parents, I can afford to pay for your stuff. You’re like…an adult, you’ve got bills to pay.” 

“You’ll be in the same boat soon, Danny. Maybe I’ll need a roommate.”

“In a one bedroom?” He asks incredulously. 

“Yeah, you can sleep on the floor. I’m a generous host,” you joke. 

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “You let me sleep in your bed with you every time I stay over but I’ll have to sleep on the floor when I move in?”

“Fine, you can sleep at the end of my bed. Is that better?”

His brows furrow, “Like a dog?”

“Mhm, you can bark, right?”

His cheeks go pink and he stumbles over his words, unable to string together a comprehensible sentence. Eventually just nodding shyly.

You love to see him flustered. You reach out and pet his hair like a dog, “Good boy.” 

You bite your lip at how red he gets. You wonder if Allie ever messed with him like this.

They dated for a year and yet you feel like you barely know anything about what happened between them. You glance down at his lips. You kissed once, it was junior year. He’d come over after school, muttering a lie to his mom about needing to work on a project. Instead you had managed to get your hands on some bud, fluttering eyelashes and a twenty was all you needed to pay with. Your parents were working late, again, so it made it easy to get away with. He laughed at you, watching you pull up a tutorial on Youtube for how to roll a joint. Laughing even harder when you rolled quite possibly the worst joint in all of history. You smoked together, watching the Jackass series, laughing too hard at every bit. At some point you ended up in his lap, he pulled you into his chest, resting his head on your shoulder. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling playfully at the blonde strands. Your eyes went wide when he whimpered. You pulled his head back, his eyes squeezing shut in pain and…something else. You watch how he bites down on his lower lip to keep quiet, you’ve always thought his teeth were cute, as weird as it sounds. “Danny?” You say his name softly.

He opens his eyes, “Mhm?” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

He blushes, “I-I’ve never…” He looks away, embarrassed. 

“It’s easy, can I show you?” You ask softly, trying to make sure he’s comfortable.

“Please…” It comes out more pathetic than he intends. 

You pulled him in, kissing him softly, helping him figure out his pace. You want to take it further, but before you can his phone goes off. His embarrassing ringtone blaring, making him jump back, startled. You pull away from him and slide off his lap so he can answer it.

After that you two never spoke of the incident again, but you thought about it constantly. He had a few girlfriends here and there over the years but never any as serious as Allie. You hated her at first, a weird misogynistic jealousy bubbling up. But you got over it, sort of. You were kind to her, you liked her, but the jealousy still lived in you quietly. It gnawed at you every time you saw them put their hands on one another but you kept it to yourself. You wanted Danny to be happy even if it made you feel sick.

Danny wants to lean in, he wants to kiss you, but he’s nervous. He couldn’t be casual, it wasn’t in his nature. He hadn’t been with anyone since Allie, much less kissed anyone. He felt pathetic, a normal guy his age would kiss you easily. They’d lean in, maybe push your hair behind your ear. But he couldn’t, his hands trembled at the mere thought of it. 

“You look nice tonight,” he says softly, still staring at your lips. He means it, he thinks it’s cute how your mascara has smudged slightly under your eye from a long day at work. 

���You’re sweet…so do you,” you giggle. You reach up and caress his face softly.

“Me? I-I’m a mess, I stayed in bed all day doing school work.”

“Let me compliment you. You’re pretty. I love your eyes and your hair, you even have cute teeth…if you ever get veneers I’ll stop talking to you.”

He laughs, cheeks permanently pink at this point. “It’s sweet you think I can afford veneers.” 

“Can I kiss you?” You blurt out as if you’re back in high school perched on his lap. 

His eyes go wide, he runs his tongue over his bottom lip and pulls you into his lap, your thighs falling onto either side of him. You kiss him softly at first, almost like your kiss from high school, this time less sloppy. Your hand finds his way into his hair, the other gripping the back of the couch. You pull at his hair and deepen the kiss, your hips instinctively roll against his, he whines against your lips. His sweet pathetic sounds are like music to your ears. His hands are on your waist, pulling you down on hip by your belt loops. You roll your hips again and that’s all it takes. He whines loudly, his head knocking against yours. He grips your hips tight, his eyes squeezing shut, hips bucking up as he comes. You caress his face as he comes down from it, you can feel his cheeks heating up. 

“Danny did you just…”

He whines with embarrassment, “Don’t laugh…please.”

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Android x Reader (I)

It is the future and you have been tasked to solve a mysterious murder that could jeopardize political ties. Your assigned partner is the newest android model meant to assimilate human customs. You must keep his identity a secret and teach him the ways of earthlings, although his curiosity seems to be reaching inappropriate extents.

Yes, this is based on Asimov’s “Caves of Steel” because Daneel Olivaw was my first ever robot crush. I also wanted a protagonist that embraces technology. :)

Content: female reader, AI yandere, 50's futurism

[Part 2] | [More original works]

You follow after the little assistant robot, a rudimentary machine invested with basic dialogue and spatial navigation. It had caused quite the ruckus when first introduced. One intern - well liked despite being somewhat clumsy at his job - was sadly let go as a result. Not even the Police is safe from the threat of AI, is what they chanted outside the premises.

"The Commissioner has summoned you, (Y/N)." 

That's how it greeted you earlier, clacking its appendage against the open door in an attempt to simulate a knock. 

"Do you know why my presence is needed?" You inquire and wait for the miniature AI to scan the audio message. 

"I am not allowed to mention anything right now." It finally responds after agonizing seconds.

 It's an alright performance. You might've been more impressed by it, had you not witnessed first hand the Spacer technology that could put any modern invention here on Earth to shame. Sadly the people down here are very much against artificial intelligence. There have been multiple protests recently, like the one in front of your building, condemning the latest government suggestion regarding automation. People fear for their jobs and safety and you don't necessarily blame them for having self preservation. On the other hand, you've always been a supporter of progress. As a child you devoured any science fiction book you could get your hands on, and now, as a high ranked police detective you still manage to sneak away and scan over articles and news involving the race for a most efficient computer.

You close the door behind you and the Commissioner puts his fat cigarette out, twisting the remains into the ashtray with monotonous movements as if searching for the right words.

 "There's been a murder." Is all he settles on saying, throwing a heavy folder in your direction. A hologram or tablet might've been easier to catch, but the man, like many of his coworkers, shares a deep nostalgia for the old days. 

 You flip through the pages and eventually furrow your eyebrows. 

"This would be a disaster if it made it to the news." You mumble and look up at the older man. "Shouldn't this go to someone more experienced?" 

He twiddles with his grey mustache and glances out the fake window. 

"It's a sensitive case. The Spacers are sending their own agent to collaborate with us. What stands out to you?" 

You narrow your eyes and focus on the personnel sheet. What's there to cause such controversy? Right before giving up, departing from the page, you finally notice it: next to the Spacer officer's name, printed clearly in black ink, is a little "R." which is a commonly used abbreviation to indicate something is a robot. The chief must've noticed your startled reaction and continues, satisfied: 

"You understand, yes? They're sending an android. Supposedly it replicates a human perfectly in terms of appearance, but it does not possess enough observational data. Their request is that whoever partners up with him will also house him and let him follow along for the entirety of the mission. You're the only one here openly supporting those tin boxes. I can't possibly ask one of your higher ups, men with wives and children, to...you know...bring that thing in their house."

You're still not sure whether to be offended by the fact that your comfort seems to be of less priority compared to other officers. Regardless of the semantics, you're presently standing at the border between Earth and the Spacer colony, awaiting your case partner. A man emerges from behind a security gate. He's tall, with handsome features and an elegant walk. He approaches you and you reach for a handshake. 

"Is the android with you?" You ask, a little confused. 

"Is this your first time seeing a Spacer model?" He responds, relaxed. "I am the agent in your care. There is no one else." 

You take a moment to process the information, similar to the primitive machine back at your office. Could it be? You've always known that Spacer technology is years ahead, but this surpasses your wildest dreams. There is not a single detail hinting at his mechanical fundament. The movement is fluid, the speech is natural, the design is impenetrable. He lifts the warm hand he'd used for the handshake and gently presses a finger against your chin in an upwards motion. You find yourself involuntarily blushing. 

"Your mouth was open. I assumed you'd want it discreetly corrected." He states, factually, with a faint smile on his lips. Is he amused? Is such a feeling even possible? You try your best to regain some composure, adjusting the collar of your shirt and clearing your throat. 

"Thank you and please excuse my rudeness. I was not expecting such a flawless replica. Our assistants are...easily recognizable as AI."

"So I've been told." His smile widens and he checks his watch. You follow his gesture, still mesmerized, trying to find a single indicator that the man standing before you is indeed a machine, a synthetic product.

Nothing.

"Shall we?" He eyes the exit path and you quickly lead him outside and towards public transport. 

He patiently waits for your fingerprint scan to be complete. You almost turn around and apologize for the old, lagging device. As a senior detective, you have the privilege of living in the more spacious, secured quarters of the city. And, since you don't have a family, the apartment intended for multiple people looks more like a luxury adobe. Still, compared to the advanced way of the Spacers, this must feel like poverty to the android.

At last, the scanner beeps and the door unlocks. 

"Heh...It's a finicky model." You mumble and invite him in.

"Yes, I'm familiar with these systems." He agrees with you and steps inside, unbuttoning his coat.

"Oh, you've seen this before?"

"In history books."

You scratch your cheek and laugh awkwardly, wondering how much of his knowledge about the current life on Earth is presented as a museum exhibit when compared to Spacer society. 

"I'm going to need a coffee. I guess you don't...?" Your words trail as you await confirmation. 

"I would enjoy one as well, if it is not too much to ask. I've been told it's a social custom to 'get coffee' as a way to have small talk." The synthetic straightens his shirt and looks at you expectantly. 

"Of course. I somehow assumed you can't drink, but if you're meant to blend in with humans...it does make sense you'd have all the obvious requirements built in."

He drags a chair out and sits at the small table, legs crossed.

"Indeed. I have been constructed to have all the functions of a human, down to every detail." 

You chuckle lightly. Well, not like you can verify it firsthand. The engineers back at the Spacer colony most likely didn't prepare him for matters considered unnecessary. 

"I do mean every detail." He adds, as if reading your mind. "You are free to see for yourself."

You nearly drop the cup in your flustered state. You hurry to wipe the coffee that spilled onto the counter and glance back at the android, noticing a smirk on his face. What the hell? Are they playing a prank on you and this is actually a regular guy? Some sort of social experiment? 

"I can see they included a sense of humor." You manage to blurt out, glaring at him suspiciously. 

"I apologize if I offended you in any way. I'm still adjusting to different contexts." The android concludes, a hint of mischief remaining on his face. "Aren't rowdy jokes common in your field of work?"

"Uh huh. Spot on." You hesitantly place the hot drink before him.

Robots on Earth have always been built for the purpose of efficiency. Whether or not a computer passes the Turing Test is irrelevant as long as it performs its task in the most optimal, rational way. There have been attempts, naturally, to create something indistinguishable from a human, but utility has always taken precedence. It seems that Spacers think differently. Or perhaps they have reached their desired level of performance a long time ago, and all that was left was fiddling with aesthetics. Whatever the case is, you're struggling not to gawk in amazement at the man sitting in your kitchen, stirring his coffee with a bored expression.

"I always thought - if you don't mind my honesty - that human emotions would be something to avoid when building AI. Hard to implement, even harder to control and it doesn't bring much use."

"I can understand your concerns. However, let me reassure you, I have a strict code of ethics installed in my neural networks and thus my emotions will never lead to any destructive behavior. All safety concerns have been taken into consideration.

As for why...How familiar are you with our colony?" The android takes a sip of his coffee and nods, expressing his satisfaction. "Perhaps you might be aware, Spacers have a declining population. Automated assistants have been part of our society for a long time now. What's lacking is humans. If the issue isn't fixed, artificial humans will have to do."

You scoff.

"What, us Earth men aren't good enough to fix the birth rates? They need robots?"

You suddenly remember the recipient of your complaint and mutter an apology. 

"Well, I'm sure you'd make a fine contender. Sadly I can't speak for everyone else on Earth." The man smiles in amusement upon seeing the pale red that's now dusting your cheeks, then continues: "But the issue lies somewhere else. Spacers have left Earth a long time ago and lived in isolation until now. Once an organism has lost its immune responses to otherwise common pathogens, it cannot be reintegrated."

True. Very few Earth citizens are allowed to enter the colony, and only do so after thorough disinfection stages, proving they are disease free as to not endanger the fragile health of the Spacers living in a sterile environment. You can only imagine the disastrous outcome if the two species were to abruptly mingle. In that case, equally sterile machinery might be their only hope.

Your mind wanders to the idea. Dating a robot...How's that? You sheepishly gaze at the android and study his features. His neatly combed copper hair, the washed out blue eyes, the pale skin. Probably meant to resemble the Spacers. You shake your head.

"A-anyways, I'll go and gather all the case files I have. Then we can discuss our first steps. Do feel at home."

You rush out and head for your office. Focus, you tell yourself mildly annoyed.

While you search for the required paperwork - what a funny thing to say in this day and age - he will certainly take up on your generous offer to make himself comfortable. The redhaired man enters the living room, scanning everything with curious eyes. He stops in front of a digital frame and slides through the photos. Ah, this must be your Police Academy graduation. The year matches with the data he's received on you. Data files he might've read one too many times in his unexplained enthusiasm. This should be you and the Commissioner; Doesn't match the description of your father, and he seems too old to be a spouse or boyfriend. Additionally, the android distinctly recalls the empty 'Relationship' field.

"Old photos are always a tad embarrassing. I suppose you skipped that stage."

He jolts almost imperceptibly and faces you. You have returned with a thin stack of papers and a hologram projector.

"I've digitalized most files I received, so you don't have to shuffle a bunch of paper around." You explain.

"That is very useful, thank you." He gently retrieves the small device from your hand, but takes a moment before removing his fingers from yours. "I predict this will be a successful partnership."

You flash him a friendly smile and gesture towards the seating area.

"Let's get to work, then. Unless you want to go through more boring albums." You joke as you lower yourself onto the plush sofa. 

The synthetic human joins you at an unexpectedly close proximity. You wonder if proper distance differs among Spacers or if he has received slightly erroneous information about what makes a comfortable rapport. 

"Nothing boring about it. In fact, I'd say you and I are very similar from this point of view." He tells you, placing the projector on the table.

"Oh?"

"Your interest in technology and artificial intelligence is rather easy to infer." The man continues, pointing vaguely towards the opposing library. "Aside from the briefing I've already received about you, that is."

"And that is similar to...the interest in humans you've been programmed to have?" You interject, unsure where this conversation is meant to lead. 

"Almost."

His head turns fully towards you and you stare back into his eyes. From this distance you can finally discern the first hints of his nature: the thin disks shading the iris - possibly CCD sensors - are moving in a jagged, mechanical manner. Actively analyzing and processing the environment. 

"I wouldn't go as far as to generalize it to all humans. 

Just you."

[cowgirlcherrie]

florist! abby Headcanons ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

a/n: something quick n sweet you knowwwww got this random thought and had to write it I couldn’t resist I couldn’t. I also saw that no one done florist! abby(?) so I wanted to be the first to hop on! plus I missed writing for Abs — my baby, so enjoy ♡

warnings: 18+, MDNI, some fluff, gets smuttier halfway in, strap, blowjob (strap), eating you out, mentions of obsessive behaviors, polaroid nudes-ish, fingering, edging, public-sex-ishh, soft dom! Abby, tatted! Abby. Hinted at smoker Abby if you squint, petnames, fingers in mouth, masturbation, use of the word mommy, use of the word pussy, fem reader.

divider creds here

ೀ florist! Abby wears a basic white cropped t-shirt and black dickies under her beige apron. Her apron has a rainbow flag pin, with black pliers in one pocket. Doc Martins on her feet, tied miserably into a bow, it’s a miracle she doesn’t trip around the flower shop. She has a carabiner on her belt loop that jingles every time she walks. 

– apart from smelling like the flowers (obvi bc of where she works) smells like heavy pine and fresh soap, like forget the additives – just clean if ykyk

ೀ florist! Abby gets little patchwork tattoos in random places: a dainty lavender tattoo on her wrist, a little crescent moon behind her ear, paw prints on her bicep for her late dog Alice, a ‘gentle artist’ in bolded times new roman font – but dainty on her forearm. Her knuckles are tatted spelling out “FUCK YOU”.

ೀ florist! Abby that has a ‘Save the Bees!’ sticker on the back of her phone case. Super Bee activist.

ೀ florist! Abby who spends all day in the floral shop, playing music from her playlist on the shop’s aux, slightly swaying to the music as she works on a bouquet. She works with such prestige, god her hands work so quickly at building arrangements but the outcome is so beautiful and that’s why she has many customers. She definitely uses any leftover flowers as bookmarks for her books.

ೀ florist! Abby who’s aux will go from Lauryn Hill to Boy Genius to Mac Miller — she gets compliments on her music taste by customers all the time.

ೀ florist! Abby stops working on a bouquet when you walk into the store because of how confused you look. Wanting to save a damsel in distress. Abby moves from her place at the counter walking over to where you stood looking at the different types of flowers, creeping behind you. You smell divine to her, driving her head crazy knowing that your scent alone will be stuck in her head all day. The floral shop is a slow yet steady business, so Abby definitely doesn’t forget a face or a smell. The form-fitting dress you wore that day, the way your hands bunched at the fabric in confusion had her head spinning!

“Beautiful aren’t they?” Abby whispers from behind you,

Actually scares the living shit out of you when you see her standing behind you, but the way the sun was hitting her face from the big window panels made you less nervous. Rather in awe at the beauty in front of you. Her sunkissed skin, and silky blonde mane, were raveled in a delicate braid with wispies around her face. The raspiness from her voice – which honestly sounded like a smoker's voice now that you thought about it. 

ೀ florist! Abby who makes small talk with you while making your boquette for you (taking her slow sweet time), asking you where you’re from and what you’re doing in town? Absolutely praying that the flowers aren’t for some significant other of yours, Abby letting out an exhale when you say that they’re for your mom who you are visiting for dinner. When you mention you are unsure of what flowers to get don’t worry Abby will help you!

“So pretty girl, are you more minimalistic, talking Lilies, Gardenia’s, Jasmine – which is over there...or colorful? Which I think your beautiful self enjoys a nice Orchid, Camellia, or Begonia?”

Definitely shocks you with how well she knows her stuff

ೀ florist! Abby zones out when you are speaking and stares at your lips for far too long, looking at the way your pink gloss shines wondering how your pretty lips would look taking her strap. Percase covered in spit, from your saliva that has built up from blowing her off. Abby wanted to do nothing more than take the pretty little fabric ribbon from your hair and tie it around your hands as she went down on you while you beg her to touch you in all the right places – it was all a dream to her. Wet dreaming with you right in front of her.

Undeniably horny and touch deprived…she spends so much time in the floral shop she doesn’t have time for dating apps and finds shit like Tinder CORNY LOL. 

Meanwhile, you are trying your hardest not to stare at the way her arms are flexing or how her fingers are paying delicate attention to your bouquet, mentally laughing at the “FUCK YOU” on her knuckles, it contrasted her soft nature so much.

ೀ florist! Abby who slips in a little note into your tote back when you’re not looking, with her number on it, hoping that you would find it and call her soon, Which you do find when you are scrambling for your keys on your way back to the car. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to give the overly, steaming attractive florist a call. 

ೀ florist! Abby when the two of you start dating, she would teach you how to make a bouquet, standing closely behind you – her body right up against your back as you feel her breath tickling your ear as she whispers to you what to do

“Atta girl, look at that my sweet girl – woah! watch your hand there’s a thorn baby.”

Will definitely put her hands over yours as she works with the knife to make sure there isn’t any thorns so you don’t prick yourself. 

ೀ florist! Abby fucking you in the flower shop, when the shop is closed. Having her head in between your thighs, as her jaw slacks – the sound of your juices sloshing against her mouth as she sends hums into your pussy making you let out low mewls. Bringing a hand up to cover your mouth but she slaps it away so that she can see you

“Don’t hide from me baby, I wanna see you…look at how beautiful you look whining for me doll”

ೀ florist! Abby who kept your lace underwear in her pocket after she fucked you in the floral shop keeping it for safe-keeping (pft…we all know what she is doing with that)

ೀ florist! Abby who shows you her small pocket-sized notebook full of different flowers and arrangement ideas she had. Even the sketches of a flower bouquet that she made inspired by you and all your favorite flowers.

ೀ florist! Abby definitely tucks flowers behind your ears, specifically a white or light-pink Carnation. Especially loves putting one behind your ear as she fucks you with her strap, missionary style so she can see your face – just loves your face honestly. Bending down to kiss your lips, her cheeks dusted red with the pressure she applies.

Tucking her head into your neck swiftly smelling the carnation that she put behind your ear driving her even further insane as she drills into you — makes her go faster.

ೀ When she starts teaching you more about flowers, Definitely uses sexual enforcement to get you to remember it. Will have you sat on her counter as she stands in between your legs – locking you in as she lunges two fingers into you, edging you and not letting you cum until you say the right name of the flower that she taught you. But you could hardly focus staring at her inked knuckles as they pump in and out of you which only makes you reach your climax even further. 

“You wanna come don’t you my sweet girl? I know you want to…just say the name– awh don’t whine at me…I know you know it dollface, I don’t buy that you don’t.”

Sometimes she’ll give you a hint if the flower starts with one of the letters on her knuckles she will stick the corresponding finger into you, working at getting you just about there as her finger curls into you. Your vision is blurry as you can hardly tell what the letter is, moaning out as you try to focus on the order of the letters on her knuckles to catch the hint.

“C’mon baby I’m giving you a hint…pay attention sweetheart– focus!”

ೀ florist! Abby when you get it wrong and she finally lets you come — is fake-mad at you, shoving the lettered finger down your throat as you gag on her fingers covered in your juices.

“Baby the hinted letter was C, and the other finger was U, flower: Curcuma. You’ll get it right next time right sweetheart? You won’t let mommy down hmm?”

ೀ florist! Abby is definitely a soft dom just saying… soft as hell, loves when you hold her – kiss her, and skin-to-skin contact is important as hell she just wants to feel you and loves when you baby her. 

ೀ Definitely keeps a Polaroid of you holding flowers in pink floral lingerie in her beige apron and another one of you in her wallet, that way she has you on her at all times (honestly probably touched herself to blow off some steam after a hard shift while looking at it)

ೀ Depending on how far the relationship goes, especially if y’all start talking marriage will get your favorite flower tatted and not tell you until you see a dainty tattoo of your favorite flower on her collarbone slightly above her heart as she is filling you up, you questioning her in between moans about it.

“Mmhm…fuck is that new? Shit..abbyplease – wait is that my favorite flower?” You ask, as she grinds into you – your finger dragging against the tattoo

“Yes baby, you’re all mine. Mine…mine…mine” As she pounds harder into to you each time she says mine. Obsessive, possessive + territorial, let’s talk about it 

ೀ florist! Abby is overall just a sweetheart who loves you so much and just wants you to be her pretty flower – her muse, you definitely inspire most of her bouquets and she is so happy you ran into her shop looking for flowers that day.

[endivinity]

Hey yall!

it's been one of those weeks. a very, very expensive week. my savings will be completely wiped, but I can't open commissions, so it's not looking too hot for me right now. I'm not in any danger of eviction or other major consequences, but I can't front the costs by myself.

If you'd like to help out by chipping in a little bit, I've got the tl;dr over here! https://ko-fi.com/endivinity There's a pack of every public deathclaw artwork available through that as well, if you'd like a bonus incentive.

Long version and plan of attack under the cut!

I've been medically unemployed for a couple of years now. I've also been recently diagnosed with ADHD - inattentive. I was given an initial trial course of meds for them, which so far aren't working in any helpful ways. NZ has free prescriptions... but it does not have free mental health diagnoses, and especially not for adults. The initial diagnosis appointments cost me $1100, and there are at-cost followup appointments and other medical related costs that are chipping away at it. My medication will need reviewing and possibly switching, which requires more at-cost appointments. This was fine for me to pay! But. Miraculously, I barely self-medicated prior to diagnosis but when I did.... it was with sugary foods. I'm sure you can see where this ends up :'D

The other day I got hit with a dental bill that was not only staggering, but the treatment itself was a gutpunch. I'm not quite at root canal level but two of my teeth are tending towards it, even as the dentist commended my brushing and flossing. The quote is between $3200-4000 (give or take a couple non-priority preventative treatments). I can get government funding assistance up to $1000, and anything beyond that is a loan.

And unrelated I NEED new glasses, because the vision in my left eye from uveitis has deteriorated significantly. this costs less at i think $200-300, but the government does NOT assist with this for... some reason??

The plan of attack:

I'd - hoped, that the meds would let me focus more on owed work. I'd hoped I'd be able to clear the board. That's not the case right now. I'll keep trying, but for now I have to focus on the present.

So, the Ko-fi page is open! There's PWYW files of every deathclaw art I have, so if you'd like to help me out and get convenient lizards instead of browsing my posts, that's the option for you. I will also be making deathclaw designs to auction. I'd like to do customs in future because there's a hungry hungry market out there, waiting for me to do so, but that'd be a commission and I wouldn't complete it. So, premades it will be. My Inprnt store is currently barren; I will see about getting it filled. That'll be linked later. I can't mail out my print stock I use for cons, because I don't have a car or easy access to shipping packaging for larger prints. (And shipping would be immense because, NZ)

So far those are my only attainable options. If you have other suggestions though, please let me know! <3