#The one time I earned a little bit more money than I needed for bills I was basically stripped of a lot of it paying my folks rent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bettyfrommars · 8 months

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don't say you need me (it's understood)

vampire!steve x deliveryDriver!fem!reader

summary: you are a delivery driver who gets extra hazard pay to bring blood to the vampires of Crimson Alley, but this time, you get up the nerve to ask Steve for something you have always wanted. This story has a surprise ending and an appearance from vampire!eddie. Steve is not a typical vampire. Slightly True Blood au. wc:6.3k

18+ONLY, mature themes, Steve is a vampire but he is also something else, reader's first time feeding a vampire, smut, drinking blood, sensitive!steve, lovesick!steve, monsterfucking, doordash delivery for vampires, oral for all, reader wears a sportsbra, unprotected p in v, creampie, self-inflicted knife wound.

author's note: I've had this one in my wip's for a while, and it was going to drive me crazy if I didn't finish it. My Steve fics rarely see the light of day, but I can't stop writing them for some reason. This is my last little detour before I go back to working on my other series. Or, until I get distracted again, which will probably be in two minutes.

Part 2 smut extra Wolf Moon

Part 3 fluff request

The way you earned money lately was not your dream job, but it paid the bills. Food delivery was a necessary evil with your life being as chaotic as it was. The particular app you worked for paid better than the rest because of the “hazard pay” you accrued for some of the deliveries that required more “risk”.

The risk in question had you delivering blood to the local vampire population, most of which lived in a particular section of the city called Crimson Alley. It wasn’t just an alley; there were apartment buildings and a long street full of picket fence houses, all with heavy, black out curtains over them during the day.

One minute, you’re leaving tofu Pad Thai on someone’s doorstep, and the next—-you’re casually dropping off a grocery bag full of type O.

It was dark, of course, when you made your final delivery before clocking out. You took on as many deliveries to Crimson Alley as the app would allow, mostly because you needed the money, but also—you weren’t afraid of death.

Most of the vampire clients who signed up for deliveries on the app were decent, law abiding ghouls, but there had been two noted incidents where the vampire in question only wanted a live human to feed on, and ended up draining the delivery driver before disappearing into the night.

You told yourself they were just rumors, but also, you spent quite a bit of time ruminating on what the sensation of fangs breaking your skin would feel like.

The receipt stapled to the front of the paper bag from the blood bank said Harrington, and you matched it with the information on your phone before making your way up the sidewalk. It was an old, vintage building with renovated apartments inside, and so you punched in the alarm code from the notes in your phone, waited for the beep, and then made your way up to C5.

Two female vampires were just leaving as you stepped into the foyer, and they seemed to be dressed for a night on the town. You jumped back to make room for them, and they excused themselves with a laugh and a wave, fangs exposed, as if they were any other living humans going out for drinks. That was the great thing about vampire specific blood banks and the recently invented blood substitutes; fed vampires, for the most part, were happy vampires. Sure, there were those who still lusted after the chase and the thrill of the kill, but most of the newer vampires were surprisingly chill.

The customer requested that you hand the delivery directly to them, which meant you had to knock instead of just dropping it at the door and bolting.

But, as your finger rose to touch the doorbell, the door opened, yanking back into the apartment so fast, and you scrambled back, startled, testing the handle of the bag with your vise grip.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” the vampire said, smiling around his fangs, wearing Wayfarer sunglasses even though it was dark outside. “I didn’t mean to scare you, my bad.”

“You didn’t scare me,” you stiffened, shaking your head, hoping that was the correct answer, since the customer is always right.

In the next few heartbeats, the two of you looked over each other. Your vampire customer had a full head of lush, dark hair, just long enough to tuck behind his ears, and a solid, muscular frame. He had on a white shirt that was of little contrast to his pale skin, rolled up to the elbows and unbuttoned to expose a swatch of chest hair, black pants that made it look like he was getting ready to go somewhere fancy, and a pinky ring with what looked like a skull on it. He smelled like sandalwood and vanilla tobacco, and your mouth produced an overabundance of saliva that made you swallow and choke a bit.

Steve liked what he saw so much that he didn’t want to remove his sunglasses, so that he could continue to look you over without you seeing his eyes move. But, eventually, he did, sliding them up on top of his head, clearing his throat.

“Harrington,” he said, leaning against the door frame, forgetting why he was about to leave the apartment in the first place. “That’s me, I’m Steve.”

You introduced yourself, and then lifted the bag up in the space between the two of you. “Would you like me to set this by the door, or—?”

“Oh, damn, yeah, of course,” he chuckled fondly to himself, as if remembering a private joke. “I can—yeah, sure, here—I’ll take it.”

You passed it off and he opened it to look inside as if he didn’t know what he’d ordered.

“Alright,” you backed up, offering a low wave. “I guess I’ll be going,then? As long as everything looks okay.”

“Sure,” Steve said, uncertain, still staring into the bag. You turned on your heel to head for the stairs. “But, wait—” he called after you.

You spun around to face him, rubbing your lips together, wondering if you were crazy, or if the vampire was trying to flirt with you.

Steve held the bag with one hand and let it fall to his side while his other hand shoved into his front pocket, smirking at you in a way that screamed trouble. “Would you like to meet up later? After your shift? For a drink, or something?”

Or something.

This wasn’t a good idea, you told yourself, as you turned around to accept his invitation.

“I’m free right now,” you told him.

—-------

Steve didn’t have a plan; he just knew he didn’t want you to go.

“Were you about to leave?” You asked, gesturing to his outfit as you accepted his invitation inside the apartment.

“Nowhere…special,” Steve looked you up and down again, forgetting that his sunglasses weren’t covering his eyes. He was about to go and meet up with his friend Eddie, but he’d shoot him a text real quick and let him know he got “caught up”. Eddie had canceled on him at the last minute more times than he could count, so his conscience was clear.

Steve had eclectic taste, and the first thing you noticed was the Depeche Mode poster on the wall, along with some original art, oil abstracts, and there was a retro sense to the place: a boombox from the 80’s, a panasonic tv/vcr combo on a stand in the corner and a 1960’s wicker rattan chair with a big, dark blue cushion. He had a large collection of vinyl in vintage, wood apple crates stacked up the wall, and a yellow kitchen table set that looked like it was right out of the 1950’s.

You turned to ask him a question, but he was right there on your heels, and your chests pressed into each other, your noses almost bumping, and that was when you took a closer look at his fangs. They weren’t long, obnoxious fangs like in the movies, and could almost pass for normal, albeit extra sharp incisors, but for the way they extended down further than the rest of his perfect teeth.

“Do you ever accidentally—” you motioned to your own tooth, tapping it.

“Bite my own lip? All the time,” he gave a snort. “My tongue too, and it fucking sucks.”

He offered you a beverage and you were surprised to find out he had human food there.

“I have several human friends. I cook for them sometimes too,” he assured you from the kitchen which was around the corner. He carried the grocery bag of blood in to pour some out for himself, and then you heard the top pop off a beer. But then he peeked his head around the corner, raising his eyebrows at you. “Did you think all vampires were hermits that just hung out with each other in a cave somewhere? Like in The Lost Boys?”

You put your hands in your back pockets and went over to take a closer look at the bat with nail spikes through it that was mounted like a trophy above his stereo system. He came out carrying a wine glass full of a deep claret liquid, and handed you the beer, gesturing to the futon with his elbow.

He’d only known you for a few minutes and he already wanted to kiss you. He could see the heartbeat in your throat from where he sat, and he wanted to take a sip from your lifeforce and then kiss you with his bloody lips, smearing it down your chin. He couldn’t smell any other man or partner on you, but he also couldn’t let you walk out and be with someone else; he was actively attaching to the scent of your blood, and if you stayed any longer, he’d have to do something about it.

You took a few gulps of your beer, thinking that if you didn’t make you move, you’d lose your nerve. A chance to be consensually bitten by a vampire did not come around as often as people would think. Especially for the modern vamps of today who’d been following a set of rules for decades. Most vampires had specific humans they “bonded” with, be it a familiar or a partner, or they ingested a specific type from the blood bank or blood substitute. Vampires were very finicky creatures, and the blood had to taste good in order for them to want to ingest it. The way it tasted had to do with a certain mix of hormones and chemistry, you really had no clue.

After a bit of small talk about where you came from, and how long Steve had been a vampire—he was turned in 1996 by an ex he didn’t want to talk about—you set your empty beer down on the rectangular wood coffee table and sat back.

“So,” you bobbed your head a few times. “Here we are.”

“Yes,” he inclined his glass to you, taking the last sip of his Type O claret. “Cheers to us.”

And then, there was silence, but for the sound of people chatting out in the hall, the low hum of the Depeche Mode song It’s no Good, and your heartbeat in your ears.

But then, you just blurted it out, and Steve started to talk at the same time.

“How would you feel if I asked you to—”

“I have to confess that I—”

You licked your lips. “You go first,” you said on a nervous exhale, fiddling with the arm of the futon.

“No, you—please,” Steve sank down and rested his head on the back of the cushion, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your cheeks hot. You couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his pants was abnormally large even though it wasn’t even erect.

This was crazy, what were you even doing in his apartment? Your friends would be screaming obscenities at you if they knew, telling you to pull out your colloidal silver mace spray and run. But yet, all of your blood seemed to be tickling at the surface of your skin, wanting to escape.

You turned in your seat and Steve’s eyes followed your movements, watching how you bent your knee up and scooted towards him..

“Here’s the thing,” you cleared your throat, finding your words. “I’ve never been bitten before, by, you know, a vampire, but I’d really love to know what it feels like. I fantasize about it, sometimes.”

In an unexpected turn of events, Steve abruptly got to his feet, mumbling, “not another one,” as he put his back to you and rolled his head from side to side, walking away.

“Wait,” you stood up too. “What do you mean, ‘not another one’? Do delivery drivers normally show up here asking you to bite them?”

When he faced you, his eyes were full of weary disappointment. “I’m not turning you, okay? I will never turn anyone as long as I exist,” and then he rounded the corner into the kitchen and you heard the wine glass drop into the sink.

“Hold on,” you followed, coming up behind him as he bent forward to brace his hands on the countertop. He appeared so suddenly distraught, your hand hovered at his lower back for a while, wondering if you should touch him, and then you finally did—feeling his cold skin through his shirt like winter marble.

You made a few comforting circles with your palm, and he let you, secretly closing his eyes at the soothing nature of your touch.

“Hey,” you whispered. “I don’t want to be a vampire. And even if I did, I would never want to put that on you, a complete stranger.”

This admission made him stand, and you watched the way the ends of his hair caught on the collar of his shirt, shoulder blades flexing under the material.

You rested your hip by the sink, eyeing his back muscles. “I’m kind of embarrassed now, that I admitted that to you,” you laughed a little then, at yourself, at the situation, looking down at your nails. Could you have fucked this up any harder?

You barely had time to register that he had turned around and was coming toward you, it all happened in a human blink. But then he had your back pressed flush against the wall by the fridge, one hand cupped your throat while the other pinned your hip. It knocked the air out of you, but it also turned you on, and he returned your stare with a flicker of uncertainty. Silky brown eyes that seemed to go ink black as the pupils expanded.

He brought his cheek down, rubbing it against yours, inhaling the scent of your hair, his words a tight whisper at your ear. “Why do you want me to hurt you?”

“I-I don’t want that,” you stammered, knees wobbling as he sniffed along the side of your face and down your neck; his skin was cold and it made your nipples hard. “I just want to know what it feels like to be…needed like that.”

Steve snapped his head up to look at you; brows clenched, cherry lips parted. The urge to taste you, to feast on you, had him questioning almost a decade of sobriety from using his fangs to feed. His teeth ached, his stomach growled. The light in the kitchen was on, and aside from a lamp in the living room and the street lights from outside, the rest of the apartment was dark.

Steve nudged your nose with his; lips an inch or two away from yours. “Maybe…just a taste.”

You lifted your chin to kiss his pouty lips, but he pulled back. “We can’t do that, though. We can’t kiss.”

You searched his eyes, confused.

Steve released your throat, and the tension of the moment subsided. “It’s too…intimate. I can’t risk an attachment to a complete stranger.” You could tell he was using your words against you, and you wondered why that description bothered him so much. You were both, indeed, strangers, and you didn't know how else to categorize him.

“I want it to be a good experience, though,” he hushed, taking your hand, guiding you back out to the living room. “It’s the least I can do.”

He told you to wait there while he got a towel from the closet; he didn’t want blood on his new futon. If only you knew how many offers like this he’d turned down in his life; if only you knew how nervous he was to break this seal with you.

“Should I lay down or sit up?” You asked. Your mind was having a hard time registering that this was actually happening.

Steve came back and plopped down onto the squishy futon. His shirt was off, and your eyes locked on the patch of chest hair over his milk white skin. “It’s less messy this way,” he gestured to his bare chest, and then he raised an eyebrow, his face serious. “Are you comfortable straddling my lap?”

“Facing you?”

Steve dropped his shoulders, giving you a look, and then he patted the cushion on either side of him.

You were about to drop your knee down to do as he suggested.

“Oh wait,” he stopped you, giving you an open, earnest expression. “Do you want to take your shirt off? It might get blood on it. It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

You looked down at your shirt. It was a vintage concert tee, and you didn’t want to risk it. “Um, yeah, okay,” you had a sports bra on underneath, so this was fine.

Steve watched you remove your shirt with a hitch in his chest, but then looked down when you finished and tossed it over the chair.

You climbed on top of him, bracing your hands on his shoulders. “You’re so cold,” you observed. “You make me want to get you a blanket.”

“You’re all the warmth I need,” he muttered, shifting as your core settled above his cock, his hands tentative at your hips.

“Listen, it’s probably going to sting, or hurt, even,” he coached, watching the plump artery in your throat. “But once I start drinking, your endorphins take over and it should feel…good, in a way.”

You nodded, pushing your shoulders back.

“Now, come forward,” he continued, pulling you close so that the two of you were skin on skin, his fingers spread out on your back. “And tilt your head to the side, just like that.”

Steve’s mouth watered as he took in the sight of your neck so exposed to him, like an offering. It reminded him of way back when he used to confuse the gift of blood as a form of love. Back when he was naive and bursting with wet dreams about a home and a family and one love forever.

A few seconds passed and your chin rested on the cool muscles of his shoulder. You could feel his breath on your skin, tingly like wintermint gum.

“Should I count down?” He asked.

“No, I’m fine,” you returned with an edge of irritation. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You adjusted yourself in his lap and it made his cock throb, and now he was nervous that you could tell how aroused he was. It’s been a while since he drank from someone he wasn’t in love with, and his cock assumed it was its turn to get involved too.

You felt his lips tremble on your flesh as he brushed over the spot.

“Okay, here we go,” he mumbled. Steve’s stomach growled again as he made “O” with his mouth over your big, thumping artery, swiping his tongue a few times over your salty barrier.

But then his teeth broke the surface, making you choke and clutch his arm.

It did hurt, in the same way thorns from a rose bush hurt, and your adrenaline surged, preparing your body for fight or flight, but Steve’s arms were strong, and now they had you caged in a vice grip.

The sweet hesitancy of consent was gone now that he knew the honey nectar in your veins.

Now, his animal urges made him growl as he drank from you; whimpering, even, when he felt you ease into it, shifting to be closer to him.

There were only a few seconds of that sharp pain, but then as he sucked, you felt your pussy flutter and bloom—a reaction that you had not expected. You closed your eyes, vibrating, leaning into each pull, turned on more and more by his wanton need for you. A trickle of blood trailed down along your breast and it made your skin raise with gooseflesh.

Steve jerked his mouth away with a gasp after about a minute, breathless. He looked at the dripping fang marks in your neck, and then, without thinking, he kissed you there. He released his double arm lock on you and held your upper arms, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.

“Fuck,” be breathed. “That was so good.”

“You can have…more,” you whispered, keeping your head tilted to the side.

Steve swallowed hard: the temptation was real. “I can’t,” he managed. “I’m afraid I’ll take too much.”

You wanted to cry out in disappointment, to beg for more. But then, Steve picked up the towel and started wiping you off. He pricked his finger to heal the fang holes with his blood and you felt a sizzle as they closed up and vanished.

You couldn’t look at him right away, but when you finally did—you saw the trickles of your life force in the corners of his mouth and the strawberry wine tinted hue of his lips. His cinnamon brown eyes that had somehow turned hazel Your need was too great, and before you could stop yourself, you were leaning forward to flick your tongue out to taste the evidence of his feast.

Steve turned his head and that was when you remembered the rule: no kissing. He was the Julia Roberts Pretty Woman version of vampires.

But a twitch of his cock against your inner thigh from inside his jeans betrayed him.

“Oh, fuck it,” he hissed, acquiescing to his own desires, holding the back of your head to find your mouth. He kissed you deep, without any hesitation. It was innocent and urgent, like a man who had been starving in many different ways for a long time.

The taste of your blood in his mouth had your eyes rolling back in your head. There was something about the closeness of it; the way he received nourishment from you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back, not paying any attention to the way your hips were grinding into him.

“Wait,” there was a smacking noise as Steve pulled his mouth away. He ran the back of his fingers down your cheek. “Do you want this? Do you want…me?”

Your lips throbbed and felt bruised, and you nodded, unable to form words.

Steve would regret this the next day, he knew he would. He wasn’t one of those people who could do casual intimacy like Eddie and Argyle. He wondered if he was hypnotized by your blood, wondered if maybe he’d see clearer in the morning. But right then, he didn’t care.

You crossed your arms over yourself and pulled your sports bra off, watching Steve’s breath catch at the sight of your nipples. He took one in his mouth, swirling his tongue, moaning as he did so, and you flexed your hips against him. His sucking popped off as your mouth went to his neck; you didn’t kiss him, you just planted your lips there and said:

“I love knowing my blood is inside of you.”

And for some reason—that was it for Steve.

He gasped, clamping his hands onto your thighs, locking you in place. “Wait…fuck…oh shit—”

You felt him tremble and arch his pelvis up, his hips stuttered, and then his head dropped to your arm with a strangled cry.

“Hold on…did you just?”

“I’m afraid so,” Steve admitted with a tight, aggravated sigh. “Excuse me while I—”

He motioned for you to move out of his lap, but you stayed there, lowering your head to find his eyes. “Can I clean you up?”

Steve shifted, feeling embarrassed and a little uncomfortable, about to decline your offer, but then you were sliding down between his legs, pushing them wider with your shoulders. Your attention went to unbuckling his belt and zipper, but then your eyes flicked up to meet him, hovering there.

“What are you doing?” He asked softly, lifting his hips when you needed to scoot his jeans and red boxers down. You saw the wet spot where his tip had exploded and the dark hair around the base of his cock. You grabbed onto his length to bring it out of hiding and Steve shivered.

“You don’t have to—” but your lips were already on the fat, sticky tip, licking down the vein and the excess that dribbled down his shaft. His cum didn’t really have a taste—it reminded you of something with a clear flavor, like glycerine. He was semi-hard now; caught between being done and getting excited again. He threw his head back onto the couch, exposing his throat to the ceiling, Adam’s apple jerking as he swallowed back a whimper.

His hips bucked up when you took the tip to the back of your throat, and Steve’s fingers dug into the couch, wondering if he should touch you. “Do you like the way I taste?” He asked in a hush.

You nodded, meeting his gaze again, kissing the head of his cock. “I want more.”

Steve leaned down to grab your face with both hands and coaxed you back up into his lap for another depraved kiss; moaning into each dive of your tongue.

“It’s my turn,” he said with a crooked grin, rubbing his nose on yours, and then he flipped you over with surprising strength. You pushed your jeans down as he pulled them, yanking the denim all the way off your feet. They landed inside out in a crumpled pile nearby. He kissed down your breasts, your stomach, flicking his devilish tongue along the soft curve of your hip.

Your legs stretched out to meet the width of his strong shoulders, cursing when his tongue licked a stripe up and down your slit a few times. When his mouth pulled away, there was a string of saliva connecting you to his chin, and he found your eyes before he moved to taste you again.

He lifted your thighs up off the couch—god, he was so strong—and licked down even further, until his tongue fluttered at your tight muscle back there, making both holes clench. Your torso was almost bent in half when he looked up at you over your pussy. “Do you like that?”

“Don’t stop Steve, please,” you gushed.

He took that as a yes, smiling to himself, continuing to work you over in that spot.

He lowered you and moved up to suck your clit and sank two fingers in a little too fast, making you tighten up for a moment. “Shit, your fingers are so big.”

He made a guttural growl, staring at the way his fingers stretched you, and it sounded so unlike the noises he made thus far, it made your eyes snap open.

“More,” you gasped, taking his head in your hands. Your fingers threaded through his hair that was a bit crunchy from styling product.

He slipped a third finger in and your cunt pulsed around him, making his cock get stiff and leaky again. “Fuck, you’re going to take my cock so good.”

The throb of the artery in your inner thigh caught his attention and so—that was all he could think about.

His fingers went in to the last knuckle, and twisted them a few times.

Your jaw went slack with a moan. You watched his mouth lift off an inch so that he could stare at the spot just below the curve of your hip. You could almost hear his thoughts, they were so loud, and the thought of him feeding on you again made your cunt tighten like a fist.

“Fuck, Steve, please do it,” you whined, squirming. “Take more of my blood.”

Steve felt like a man out of control. Like the vehicle had already flown off the cliff, but he was still trying to work the break and steer. There was no hope for him now—he might as well release his grip on the wheel.

His fingers curled up inside you as his fangs nipped at your tender flesh, toying with you. When his his sharp teeth finally sank in, he didn’t give a shit about staining the couch or his clothes—he didn’t care if you could tell how much he fucking loved this.

When his mouth locked onto you, your pussy clenched around his fingers, and you were whimpering, clutching the back of his head, encouraging him, “moremoremore.”

Steve had to push himself off of you with all of his strength, sending the couch sliding back a few inches with you on it, knocking over a table and a lamp that went crashing to the ground. Your flesh was still leaking as he stumbled back, breathing quick and heavy, mouth and chin wet from his meal. His jeans were still down his hips a bit and his cock curved angry and sticky against his belly.

“Cover it,” he braced his hands behind him on the carpet, gesturing to your inner thigh, but you weren’t quick enough. “Cover it now!” He barked, wincing, baring his teeth.

You reached over for the towel and did as he asked, wrapping it around your thigh, securing it with your hand, watching whatever struggle he seemed to be having with himself. It looked almost as if Steve was…changing? The hair on his chest and arms seemed to grow thicker right before your eyes and his jaw muscles strained as if making room for more teeth.

Once he caught his breath, his eyes locked on your cunt—so open and ready for him—and another animal growl escaped his chest. You watched his cock twitch a few times, a sticky strand of precum connecting to his stomach.

No words were needed as he grabbed you by the crook of your knees and yanked you off the couch. You yelped only because his movements were so fast and your lower back skidded on the rug, but you were equally opening yourself up wider for him, spreading your knees out.

He knelt before you, chest hairier than ever, and his eyes flicked red for a moment. He stretched his thick cock down along your slick and with one thrust, buried himself to the hilt, making you both throw your heads back with a cry.

“Fuck,” you wanted him deeper, you wanted all of it. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the size. He put one hand at your shoulder and one at the crease of your thigh and began to pound you onto his cock as if you were a toy. Your breasts bounced and you kept eye contact with him as your jaw went slack, feeling a mounting orgasm already teasing in your core.

Steve’s hands no longer resembled the hands of a man; they were completely covered in hair now with curved claws. Honey brown fur covered his flesh entirely, and his nose was more of a snout as his eyes bore into you, burning an orange red. His mouth was wider, teeth bigger and sharper as he revealed them to you in a sneer; his tongue lolling out thick and sharp.

You were not afraid though, and he could see it in the way you regarded him, as if the change had not taken place at all. Your curiosity was piqued, but you were not disgusted, nor did you look away.

The curse, it was real. He had not dared to tempt it for so long, thought maybe he had outrun it, but now he was mating you and he didn’t know how to stop.

You didn’t want him to stop. You wondered if maybe this was what happened when some vampires had sex—you’d never tried it before.

His strong, animal hips slammed against you; muscular, hairy legs splitting his jeans open so the seams ripped to accommodate his size.

“Steve, I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, brushing your fingers over your clit.

Monster Steve’s movements sped up and got erratic as you screamed his name again and the fire in your belly swelled to your entire body, exploding like firecrackers behind your eyes.

Steve barked and locked you up against him, balls deep, as his cock pumped everything he had inside of you; body tensing, muscles straining.

You were both panting when your eyes found each other again. He searched your face with his feral eyes as his cock jumped a few times inside of you. You wondered if he had lost the ability to speak since he hadn’t said a word since the transformation.

He unhooked his hand from your shoulder and ran a claw down your face, gently, parting your lips with it, and then drawing down your throat.

There was a knock at the door, and somewhere in the deeply muffled civilized part of Steve’s brain he thought: “Shit, I forgot to text Eddie.”

You looked around, wondering what to do, wanting to cover yourself up, and Steve pulled out of you, savoring one last look at his cum leaking out before he bolted to the fire escape window on all fours and then crouched there.

“Steve?” Another man’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Yo Steve man, what gives? I waited at the bar for like two hours.” He knocked on the door again, and then tried the knob. “I’m going to use my spare key if you don’t answer, man. It’s not like you not to text.”

Monster Steve growled low, staring across the room at the door, snarling like a dog.

Getting the hint that maybe Steve didn’t want anyone to see him like that, you jumped up to find your clothes when you heard the key in the door. You had your shirt on and were struggling to button your jeans when the door opened.

You rushed over to greet whoever it was and found yourself face to face with another vampire, but this one had long, dark messy hair, and bangs that were too long, and a leather jacket over his Alice in Chains tee shirt.

“Hey,” he paused, offering a confused smile to expose his fangs. “I’m Eddie. Is Steve here? We were supposed to meet me but he—-”

That was when Eddie caught sight of the huge, hairy monster dropping from Steve’s fire escape and into the street.

“Shit!” Eddie cursed, pushing passed you, yelling for Steve.

You both made it to the window in time to see monster Steve bounce over the hoods of several cars like something out of a DC comic, and then bolt down an alleyway on all fours before climbing up the next building.

Eddie turned to you, the only human in the vicinity, and cursed. “You let him drink your blood, didn’t you?”

“Well I—” you stammered, trying to catch sight of Steve from the window again, but he was long gone. “I-I didn’t know that vampires couldn’t—”

“Most can,” Eddie sucked in his bottom lip and put his hands on his hips, looking around. “But not Steve. He was already a werewolf when he was bitten and turned into a vampire, and if hybrids drink blood directly from a human, they turn into a beast, like what you saw.” Eddie glanced down at how your jeans were unzipped, and then he quickly looked out the window again. “Especially if there is some type of sexual act involved.”

Eddie paced back and forth in a line for a minute, wondering what he should do—-who he should call.

You swallowed so hard there was a click in the back of your throat. “How long will he…be like that?”

Eddie scratched his forehead, parting his bangs. “It’s really hard to say. Could be hours, could be weeks. But the problem is—” Eddie trailed off, thinking about the last time this happened. “----he’s out there all alone and there’s no way to find him or catch him. He’s stronger than any vampire or a werewolf now.”

You told Eddie a little bit about who you were as you collected your things and went out in the hall with him so he could lock the apartment back up. You told him that you didn’t mind waiting there, until Steve came back. Maybe he just went for a run to stretch his monster legs?”

“That’s way too dangerous,” Eddie promised. “Once Steve is back to Steve again, he’ll want to know I kept you away from him, that I kept you from danger,” he walked you out of the complex and down to your car. “The smartest thing you can do right now, sweetheart, is go home and wait for things to go back to normal. I’m sure he’ll call you when he returns to himself.”

You thanked him and shook his hand, even though you knew Steve didn’t have your number.

You had a plan you thought might work even better.

Once you got back to your place, you showered, cleaned up the sticky trail of Steve’s cum down your inner thigh, and then wrapped a towel around you and went to the kitchen to find a sharp knife.

You went out to your modest balcony on the 6th floor of your building, and blinked against the breeze as a hand-shaped cloud circled the moon. The stars were bright and the air smelled of honeysuckle, and you held the blade of the knife tight before yanking it through your grip.

It slit the flesh of your palm like butter, and you bit your lip against the pain. You squeezed your fist in the air—a summoning on the wind—and watched the dark red flow trickle down your forearm.

You let it drip onto the railing, all along the cement ledge, and then left the sliding door open and made a trail of droplets on the floor to your bedroom.

And then, you waited.

#vampire!steve #Steve Harrington #vampires #monsterfucking #monsterfucker #monster!steve #Steeb #monster lover #vampire steve harrington #stranger things fic #Steve Harrington fic #Steve Harrington smut #steve smut #steve harrington one shot #Spotify

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fillinforlater · 4 months

Text

Blonde: Chapter III

Female Reader x Kim Gaeul

Length: 2500 words

Tags: angst/fluff, another bad day, losing your dignity, illness, someone who cares, there is a fever dream, Gaeul's relationship, struggling with your identity, we got a twist at the end

Inspiration: "Why Am I Like This?" by Orla Gartland

(A/N: Finally, another chapter to this slowly developing plot. I jope you enjoy it. @firagaarmor for obvious reasons)

"Didn't you say 108,000?"

"No, sir, it's 180,500 won."

"Oh, I see."

The old, fragile fingers of this confused, bald man creep back into his purse, trying to find another bill in what is probably a maze of money and plastic cards for him. You wouldn’t mind it one bit, you get paid either way and on usual nights, traffic is so little that barely anyone else gets inconvenienced. However, tonight is rather unusual. Apparently everyone forgot something and is now in a haste to buy said something. There is a long line of impatient stressed moms, annoyed teenagers and everything in between or beyond showing or voicing their disapproval.

It’s not you, you’re not the cause for their stress and discomfort, yet the customer’s toxicity still flies to you like you’re some kind of magnet. It all comes back to stab you, with passive-aggressive remarks or the glances up and down your small frame. Doesn’t really help that you only had cold ramen noodles, sweets and a little bit of bread in the past five days and that the ice cold showers make your nose itch with an impending cold. God, you must look pathetically miserable, even for your standards.

After the man finally gets his cash together, the checkouts are fast, heartless, and your heart aches for her to be at the end of the line. Gaeul—with her bright hair and even brighter smile to greet you when she is out buying drinks again—she could really save this evening. You yearn for her encouragement and presence more than for the next hot meal. Maybe even more than for the next two hot meals.

But there is no blonde angel to save you tonight. With the last customer buying their groceries, the lights die one by one, leaving you in a mostly empty store, alone with thousands and thousands of tasty and not-so-tasty products you’d love to put into a pan and fry. The thuds of your sneakers on the floor almost drown out the grumble in your stomach or the sniffling of your nose as you walk into yet another cold night with nothing to look forward to.

I fucking hate this shit.

You want to vomit, throw yourself off your bed, tear every single strand of your dark hair out as you dial your mother's number again. You hope it’s over quickly, but one can never know with her, especially if she still stubbornly refuses to help you. Take deep breaths, try to keep your head straight though thinking has become more and more exhaustive with every calorie you’re missing.

“What is it?” your mother groans, though you find her tone to be a lot more amused than last time. Someone is cheering and laughing in the background, drowning out even the loud TV.

“The bills, mom. I still have no electricity, no hot water, no heater.”

“Oh right.”

A response colder than your room. You try to straighten your back to speak to her loud and clear, with at least some authority, but you feel yourself crumble when the clanking of bottles loudly booms through the speaker.

“Did… did your boss finally pay you?” you carefully ask, earning an immediate response.

“Yes, he did.”

“Then why didn’t you pay the bills?”

Silence, except for the crime drama running in the back, finding all the suspects and then the killer, as they always do. This case right here is totally clear, no one needs to investigate for more than five minutes to find out that she is at fault, yet it feels like you're on trial, awaiting your parole, which for some reason is still in the balance.

“You know, sweetheart,” your mother cheekily responds, her saliva loudly flopping around in her mouth, mixed with the disgusting flavor of cigarettes and beer. “I really worked hard for that money. It’s my money. In the end I can decide what happens with it.”

Oh God, don’t do that, please for the love of—and don’t call me sweetheart.

“You can’t be serious,” you barely chirp out, your heart throbbing, crumbling like your entire body as you can see your entire foundation, the fragile remains of your fake stability finally falter. You can never cover all of your expenses with this one job and you can’t quit school now, not after getting so close to finally finishing it. You need her money and she seems to finally use it against you.

“It’s just the truth,” she responds nonchalantly, her voice a lot lighter and higher in pitch than usual. You hear someone cackle in the background.

“Sweetheart.

Don’t call me that.

“How about you—

Don’t do this.

“—start begging for my money. C’mon! Get on your knees and beg for it! I’m tired of funding your lazy, incompetent lifestyle. You should be so grateful for my throwing money at you all these years.

“I didn’t hear you! Get your lazy ass out of your bed now, and on your damn knees.

“Beg for it.”

Laughter from behind her. It's not the TV.

A hot shower, warm noodles, a cozy bed—they never felt so wrong, so disgusting. Even as your life objectively improves, it feels horrible, like you had to sell yourself and your soul for it to happen.

Your knees are still drawn to the floor. You might sit in a chair, listen to teachers all day or sit at the checkout, pulling items over the scanner, your knees still feel like they should get on the floor and beg.

Please let me pass.

Please give me more money.

Please leave me alone.

Please ignore my embarrassing existence.

"Hey."

"Uhhh, good evening, ma'a—Gaeul?"

Gaeul's dainty fingers catch your shoulders as you slump forward, against the checkout counter and almost fold over. Your body, devoid of energy, loses all tension.

“Hey, hey,” Gaeul calls out to you, and like the caring mother you never had, the warm palm of her hand cups your forehead. “Oh lord, you’re so hot! You’re definitely sick, what are you doing here?”

“I-I have to work,” you respond, a wave of something hot and heavy pressing down on your brain. This lava burns itself into you and makes every thought process excruciatingly hard. You haven’t even noticed it until now. “I’m not sick, every-thing is fine.”

Your smile is weak, dozy and fake, it cannot fool Gaeul a bit. Her beautiful face falls into deep wrinkles of worry as you can barely lift yourself out of her supporting arms. There is an awkward pause between the two of you, only interrupted by another customer clearing their throat. You try to get back to scanning, but one of Gaeul’s cans slips through your fingers a couple of times.

“I don’t think you should do this,” Gaeul says quietly, softly. “You don’t need to prove your toughness, it’s okay to be sick for a few days. I think your boss will understand.”

“Really, Gaeul, I’m okay.” The final can, straight into the blonde’s bag. Through your blurry eyes you can barely make out the color of her jacket, or sweater, or whatever it is—either way, it definitely suits her. “Thanks for worrying though.”

Why did I push her away like this? Why didn’t I listen to her? Why am I always like this?

Everything is hot and everything is cold. You need another jacket or the cold will get worse, but it simultaneously feels like you could die from overheating if you don’t start throwing away layer after layer of clothes. The way your body feels is close to how the inner mechanisms in your brain work in this fever haze. There is nothing, no thought, no conclusion, nothing that matters—yet everything is suddenly relevant.

Objects and details you’ve never actively released before come into focus of your decreasing sight, that one tile in the corner, just as dirty and unspecial as the rest, the second package of gum, purple and pink, the spooky hum when the door opens that never appears when it closes. So you stumble out of the store, tripping over your feet until the fever finally strikes you down.

The concrete, its gray color, is darker the colder it gets. It’s also harder, torturous to lay upon, scorching hot skin on freezing tarmac. Suddenly, brand new sneakers, black and white, small feet, about as small as your own, though they could be—

“Oh my God!”

—a bit bigger, judging by the length of the stockings covered legs that—

“Here, I’ll help you”

—disappear in a plaid skirt, above a combo of thick winter jacket and—

“I knew this was bad. Taxi!”

—a girl, whose hair is both silver and golden, a blonde close to whiteness, nonetheless it looks like a crown adorning and framing her perfectly formed features.

Gaeul.

You’re lost in a dream. A school full of students, their ages varying drastically and you do not recognize a single face. The teachers seem a lot more familiar, though they float through the room carelessly, gravity not applying to them. In fact, gravity only applies to you, as the rest of the students fly around the room with their chairs and desks.

A frame of an angel, her hands brushing your cheek, scorching hot, so she puts a wet towel on your face. That’s so nice of her, you must be sick. Sick or not, you cannot miss the day you go to the zoo with the floating class.

The zoo is filled with people, nothing but people. People that look at odd people. Those that have to stand on one leg, those that can’t talk properly, those who like weird things. You can hear your whole class laugh hysterically at all of them, so weird, so wrong, nothing better than to laugh at sickos and be glad that you’re not one of them.

“Uhm, hi.” A voice in the far background, damp, behind a shut door. “Care to explain why you have another girl in your bed?”

You feel like you have to explain yourself, but words are nothing more than concepts in your head, also the zoo is calling, you have to watch the lively corpses float through the water tanks. Luckily, someone speaks for you. The angel.

“She’s a friend and she is sick. That’s all there is to it, Yujin.”

"Oh, really?" The other voice is skeptical, eyebrows raised and she looks for a clever response. “I guess she got sick while laying in your bed? Gaeul, don’t lie to me, okay? Just be straightforward with me.”

“I—” the angel stutters and falls silent. You however found a new enclosure in this zoo which stretches in all directions. This one is rather empty and the enclosure is also no enclosure, just a mirror with a writing above it: ‘Sicko girls that like other girls’.

The reflection is you, of course, in all your—

“What am I going to do with you, hm?” The other voice, now a tall woman of incredible beauty, twirls a couple of golden strands of the angel and tugs them behind her ear with a weak—dishonest, you feel—smile. “The long hair suited you better. I really liked that.”

“I know, Yujin.”

The reflection is you, in all your fault and imperfection, far from perfection and any heavenly being. You are no angel, just a sicko girl that likes girls—and the whole class is laughing.

You open your eyes, but the aching, hot pain in your temple and a heavy, wet towel on top of it make actually seeing, realizing anything a pain in the ass. Just the outline of a small face looking down on you, very familiar, very pretty—oh, what a relief to have Gaeul be the first thing you see.

“Wh-where am I?” you ask past dry lips.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Gaeul turns around and quickly reaches for a bottle of water. “Here, drink this, your body needs a lot of water now. You’re in my—my friend's apartment.”

“Damn, then it must have been real fucking bad—”

You cover your mouth, realizing your loud curse in a foreign room, foreign bed, where are your manners, they might have foreign customs. Gaeul’s eyes fall shut when she begins to lightly chuckle.

“Don’t worry, she’s not here right now,” Gaeul says. “You’re all good. B-but you can’t stay here forever. Just rest up and—you have somewhere to stay, right?”

You carefully remove the towel from your face, catching all the drops running down your forehead as you think about home, your home, finally warm because you threw away your dignity. You’d love to not go there, tear up the contract for rent and run away to something new—into independence.

“Yeah, yup, I—I have a place, don’t worry. Sorry for all the trouble, fuck, I don’t even remember what—I did it again.”

Now Gaeul is holding her stomach, laughing, hitting the blanket that covers your legs and you join her. Though you might sit upright, you feel like falling over, the dizziness, Gaeul’s laugh, they make you feel like you’re still in that dream with the angel. The angel, so ethereal, but made fragile by this voice. A woman.

Suddenly, yours and Gaeul’s face are almost touching, her arms are on your shoulders, yours on her side, her petite frame is in your palm. The laughs have faded, smiles remain but you feel your heart racing. The smile fades and you’re tense. Gaeul is right there and she is so, so pretty.

“You sure you’re alright?” Gaeul asks as she sees your blush. You blush even more and avert your eyes.

“Y-yeah, thank you. You helped a lot. But—

“—are you okay too, Gaeul?”

That’s a smile full of uncertainty, a hint of anger, a glow of hurt. Gaeul’s eyes sparkle and you’d love to blow some life into them. Even better, all the love you have for her, you want to pour it into her and give her power. But no, you have no idea nor any plan to do such a thing. So it’s Gaeul who helps you out of the bed and hands you one of her sweatshirts that isn’t drenched in sweat.

“You are the one with a fever, I’m as healthy as ever!” Gaeul is so bright and her smile shines like a star. In a different universe, she is already a celebrity with a perfect red carpet smile. Fake.

“I didn’t mean that.” In a surge of confidence and worry, you reach for Gaeul’s hand and everything's in slow motion. “I-I’m scared that you’re not happy, that something isn’t right, that—Gaeul, I heard you talk to your friend and she seemed—”

“Look, I—she isn’t my friend.”

Gaeul looks at you.

“She is my girlfriend.”

Gaeul still looks at you. Now it’s your turn to fake a smile and get it over with.

...

(A/N2: Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for more chapters, though it will take time until the next release)

#kpop fluff #gaeul fluff #ive fluff #female idol fluff #female reader #female reader fluff #kpop angst #gaeul angst #ive angst

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splendidnothings · 1 year

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Is it in your opinion that Peter would be able to manage suddenly coming into tens of millions of dollars?

We've actually seen exactly what happens when he comes into tens of millions of dollars (and his own company) post-Superior Spider-Man. And let’s just say it did not end well--

("Now, let's tear it down!" Amazing Spider-Man #31 (2015))

Truly, the man did not last more than a couple months, in-universe, before force-ejecting from the entire enterprise, super-villain plot notwithstanding. Even without Otto forcing his hand Peter was routinely giving his money away or using exorbitant amounts for the benefit of his family and friends. His philanthropic work with the Uncle Ben Foundation. Helping out May, Flash, and Carlie. Generally, giving his money away at any opportunity. He bought the Baxter Building for Johnny!

("Everyone was trying to buy this place...and I outbid 'em all..." Amazing Spider-Man #3 (2015))

Peter during Parker Industries didn’t “manage” this money at all. He spent and spent and the only reason he didn’t eventually run out was because his corporation imploded first.

So, I think the easiest answer is if he suddenly came into a lot of money, like for example, if he won the lottery, he would not so much manage the money but just use it until it ran dry and then find a gig to pay next month’s rent.

Now, Parker Industries is a pretty on the nose example so if we disregard that run I still think it's clear that Peter would manage a million dollars just as well as he would ten dollars and that is to say quickly and/or probably for the benefit of someone else. Peter genuinely just does not care about having money just to acquire wealth.

(“I don’t value it.” Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man #10 (2019) I personally think this is a clunky panel because it’s telling us instead of actually showing us he doesn’t value money but alas it suits my purposes for this post.)

This is obviously not to say he doesn't know the value of money or that he is oblivious to the fact that he needs money for rent or that having money makes life easier. Most of his struggles come from a lack of money. But he doesn’t view money in the long term, he’s not thinking of it as a potential investment but merely a tool to solve immediate problems. Even when he comes into a bit of surprise money he needs it all just to cover bills (Thanks Robbie!)--

(“I have [a savings plan]?! You mean when Robbie made me sign all those forms last year?... That’s just enough for my back rent and a pizza!” Spectacular Spider-Man #126)

Peter and his relationship with money is established early as core to his character and in connection with his economic status. When you are poor any money you earn is for immediate necessities, not something to be saved and managed.

("Without Uncle Ben, we've no money to pay our bills." Amazing Spider-Man #1)

He just needs to make enough to pay rent, for May's medical bills, for food. Maybe he wants to get something nice for May or Betty, Gwen, or MJ. Later on, his money worries are in relation to being able to support a wife (this occurs with both Gwen and MJ). But it's all short-term and a means to an end. Past the immediate obstacle where the money is needed, he doesn't care about money at all.

His very first superhero team-up was less of a team-up and more of Peter thinking he could make money by joining the Fantastic Four!

("There's the way I can make some money--by joining the Fantastic Four!" Amazing Spider-Man #1)

I’ve been using multiple panels from Amazing Spider-Man #1 so far because I think it’s important in showing how ingrained Peter’s overall views on money are to the character. This is his second appearance ever (after Amazing Fantasy #15) and not only is his socio-economic class crystal clear but so is how he handles and thinks about money.

Canonically, almost every time Peter does come into a little extra money he gives it away. This is also a pretty consistent trait of his. He's just not one to keep extra cash around unless he's specifically saving for something. Why would he hoard money when he can help someone he loves or give it to a New Yorker who needs it more than him at that moment.

(...other people need it more than me, right?)

Further, he doesn’t view Spider-Man as something that holds monetary value.

(Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man #1(2019))

And he knows how important money is for the average person--

(“If that money isn’t recovered, what happens to relief payments this month?”)

And--let’s be clear here--Peter could very easily make all the money he wants. He could easily make loads of money. Whether it be because he is a certified genius. Or because he has superpowers and could employ them in a variety of different ways to get money...and he knows this.

("If money's a problem, then I'll just get money." Amazing Spider-Man #542)

(“I can go anywhere! No one, nothing can stop me! Any amount of money could be mine...” Amazing Spider-Man #1 (ASM #1 really doing the most work in hammering home so many core character traits huh!))

But, Peter is just not a character who aspires to be wealthy. He wants to be comfortable. He wants an apartment with a tiny skylight so he can easily sneak out and be Spider-Man. He wants enough money to take care of the people he loves. But that's it.

In fact, the jobs that have made him money usually become a problem because they get in the way of him being Spider-Man. He values being Spider-Man over making a name for himself, finishing grad school, making big science lab money, etc., etc. or he wouldn’t be dropping these pathways to a better economic status. He's had many well-paying science jobs throughout canon and he doesn't keep them because he eventually stops showing up. He's a flake who at the end of the day doesn't value that work or that money more than being Spider-Man and helping people Grad school meant so little to him at one point that he full-on dropped out, in part, because he thought he needed to make money to pay for Felicia's medical bills--

(“I might not have quit school to devote more time to making a living...OH WELL...”)

Pulling back a bit we also have to look at Peter and his purpose as a fictional character that requires thought and consistent theme-work. A Peter who acquires wealth. Who hoards such a valuable resource is kind of antithetical to his whole deal. Arguably, his most well-known villain is Norman Osborn the literal embodiment of what an evil man with lots of money and no responsibility can do. So, it really doesn’t make for a character like Peter so rooted in the lower class, so known for helping the ones who truly need him for him in his civilian life to be a well-off guy. Spider-Man is THE street-level hero dealing with street-level crime. At his best he is stopping muggings, beating up unfair landlords, or wealthy people taking advantage of the unfortunate. He's a man of the people and doesn't like when people misuse power and what gives people power more than money?

("...I had the most money!" "Oh, give it a rest." Spectacular Spider-Man #145)

Wrapping this up, I also think a big reason Peter never feels so beholden to money is because he knows how self-sufficient he is. He invents his own webbing, web-shooters, is shown to be extremely handy, and is a genius. Why should he care about money beyond his basic needs? He can figure things out as the situation calls for it even if all he has is $23.50 in his bank account :p

#peter parker #marvel comics #marvel #marvel meta #long post/

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petite-gloom · 6 months

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Hi Megan, you’re one of the only autistic people in their 20s that I know, so I hope it’s ok to ask this, sorry it’s so long. I just found out I’m autistic (and quite possibly ADHD - awaiting dx) and that the shyness is actually Anxiety. I’m 24. I have a degree from university but have been unemployed for the past two years. I feel so worthless, everything seems futile? But I’m starting to realise why typical 9-5 office jobs aren’t the best fit for me - like sure, I could push through every day and get the work done but it drains me so much. I’ve been trying to figure out the things that bring me autistic joy - reading, art, playing piano, and makeup are a few things. But I’ve really been struggling to find out how to make these a career, or if I even should rely on these things to make money, lest they suck the joy out of it. I’m grateful to be able to live with my parents, but part of me feels like I’m being a burden by not bringing in some income/contributing financially. Do you have any advice/suggestions for me? I’ve been entertaining the idea of creating a YouTube channel, but worry that the anxiety and ADHD will keep me from being consistent or successful. I appreciate any feedback you may have. Thank you ❤️‍🩹 I hope you’re okay 🥹

i really wish i had something helpful to offer, but i'm not sure i do. i'm only two years older than you (26) and obviously work from home doing art, but i also live with a parent and struggle a lot behind the scenes. one thing i really want to give you a heads up on is that (depending on channel size), youtube doesn't really pay a lot- with just shy of 60k subscribers and 10-20k views per video (one video a week) i usually only make around £400 a month (sometimes a little more, sometimes a little less). the amounts fluctuate, don't match your estimated earnings, and are only updated accurately within adsense around 2 days before you get paid. it's not a stable or reliable way to make a living, which is why most youtubers have additional work and income streams. £400 is obviously still £400 and im very grateful to be able to add it to the household bills/groceries etc but it obviously isn't an amount that allows me to live independently, and the fluctuating nature of the payment amounts makes it hard to rely on for anything recurring. it's also a lot of work behind the scenes, and i do find it very difficult during weeks when im feeling more anxious or my mood is low. i don't say this to be discouraging (majority of the time, it's really fun to make videos!) but i just want to be real about what it's like as a small autistic youtuber.

it's hard to suggest other options because i don't know you personally- the level of your skills, how much support you need, how much rest, etc. people tell me there's money to be made on tiktok, so maybe that's something you could consider for makeup and/or piano (the videos are shorter so i wonder if it would be a little better for anxiety/adhd)? could you offer classes for either of these things? could you sell digital art? is there any part time work along the theme of your degree? i had a weekend job at a garden centre that i enjoyed for a long time, so maybe you could find something super chill with smaller hours that would pay a bit- a book or coffee shop?

i wish it was easier and that i had more suggestions but to be honest im always thinking the same- how can i make more to help? how can i make enough to be independent? how can i survive as an autistic person? what will my future look like? and i don't really have any of the answers, much to the horror of my own increasing anxiety. but i hope you can find something fulfilling to work on that pays a little. i hope you can find something that helps you feel as though you're contributing to your household. maybe you could express your concerns to your parents, and see if there are other ways to contribute? i know you mentioned financially, but things like cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping (if you don't already) can be nice ways to help support the household while they're working. my dad cooks and does the dishes, but i do a lot of the cleaning, and have recently taken over ordering and paying for groceries. he's autistic too, and this helps free up some of his mental space.

i don't know if any of this is helpful, but i hope it is. even if it isn't, please know that you're not alone in these concerns, or in this issue. i think it's a difficulty that all autistic people face as they age. we have different needs, often limited abilities, and it's very difficult to stay afloat in a world that is increasingly expensive, where you're expected to be able to work for more hours than you rest. i wish it was a bit easier for everyone. i wish things weren't so hard for disabled people especially

#answers

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the-final-sif · 1 year

Text

Honestly, I think this past week with Elon Musk just kinda goes to show how much better Tumblr's longer, slower game is.

Like, take revenue sources. Hosting is expensive and those bills do need to get paid to have a functional website. So how do you go about earning money as a website in an ethical manner without locking out users that can't pay?

It's true that tumblr struggles a lot with advertisers, it has for a long time. Ads are the number one way that most websites earn money from their users, so that's a big problem.

So what did tumblr do? Tumblr made a really smart pivot when it realized that it's userbase wasn't a good market for ads. It looked to establish a more direct payment model and look to it's users as consumers rather than products.

The ad-free for 5$ a month is honestly a sound model. Sure, you can always use ad-block, but you can also chose to offer payment to the site directly if you have the ability to do so. Allowing users to blaze posts is also a really good choice because it removes the part of advertisements that is the real problem (the ad targeting and privacy invasion). Allowing users to operate patron like blogs or tip bloggers is also a great secondary revenue source that works well for both the site and the bloggers.

Tumblr "gifts" are one of the best ideas they've had. 3$ to send your friend some crabs for 24 hours? Hell yeah. It's tiny little bonuses that you absolutely don't need, but you can use to provide a little bit of joy to someone else for a small price. By and large, these features are all reasonably priced, and allow tumblr to get revenue without locking their users out of important features or selling user data. This is honestly one of the ways that I can see the internet moving forward in a much healthier direction.

Compare the reaction to tumblr's "ad-free for 5$" model to the reaction to Elon Musk's "checkmark for 8$" model. While your mileage may vary, my experience with the ad-free offer was a generally positive reaction from the userbase. Some people were neutral or dismissive, but there certainly wasn't outrage.

Meanwhile, Elon's dumbass idea has drawn massive outrage, and had to be delayed because it was a legitimate threat to US elections. Because Elon isn't selling an ad free optional experience, he's selling the ability to participate on the platform, impersonate other people, and effectively cutting off a huge amount of the userbase. That's a big part of why there's been so much outrage and such a mass exodus.

Since Automattic took over, they've been slowly working to make genuinely good changes that both maintain what makes tumblr work, while improving existing issues with the site and opening up better options in the future. While I certainly have criticism of them, it's a hell of a better path to go down then whatever the hell's been going on at Twitter and Facebook's dumb choices.

We'll see how all of this plays out, but I've got a feeling that tumblr's dedication to maintaining functionality & working on repairing it's relationship to it's userbase will play out better in the long term. Who knows though.

#sif speaks #tumblr culture #twitter migration #long post #just thinking thoughts

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fanfic-gallery · 2 years

Text

More touch, less talk [NSFW MDNI]

✎ Zhongli x Reader

✎ It was a fair exchange, his time for your money. Your hands never wondered, you kept to yourself.. yet he wanted something more than a shoulder for him to lean on..

✎ Tags: f! reader, modern au, sugar baby x sugar mama dynamic, friends to lovers

✎ CW: smut, porn with plot, dom! reader, sub! zhongli, panty stealing, secretly filming, pillow humping, thigh riding, dacryphilia, mommy kink, mistress kink

: ̗̀➛ Manager's/Author's note: Imma say it again.. minors do not interact! This is not a drill- the tameness of this is in the negatives, I repeat, minors do not interact- also this is my first time ever writing smut sooo, please don’t kill me in the comments-

“You really need to get a job, man- I can’t be paying for you for like, I don’t know, everything??”

Those words swirled his mind as Zhongli strolled his way through the bustling street. He was on a site that his roommate had recommended for his broke ass to make some easy cash without much effort, all he needed was his pretty face and cha-ching, dollar bills right on his front door step.

He was curious yet a bit skeptical but with the constant boasting of the hard stacks his friend has been earning from his “donor” just by smiling prettily, he had to see what the hype was about. And boy, did it deliver. He didn’t know he was getting a beauty alongside his many earnings. His pretty mistress, one of the many tops in her company, fully loaded, generous too.

“All you have to do is, spend time with me~ no need to act like my baby boy, just be yourself, like we’re just friends!”

He stared, flabbergasted. Ajax had told him the many stories of his “donor” doing the most ridiculous things with him [but of course he enjoys it] and Zhongli couldn’t help but feel concern flooding through his body. It was quite a surprise yet a real relief that his “donor” isn’t going to do anything to or even with him, but he can be a little defensive about it, can’t let his guard down after all, especially jobs like these.

But as time passes on, he was hoping for “it” to happen soon..

Every passing day he craved your affection more and more. Even the slightest touch of your fingers grazing his skin, sets his nerves on fire. Some days he throws quiet tantrums to have your attention, only to have you speak in soft tones every time and nothing else. He wanted your warmth enveloping him, he wanted you to squish him into an embrace. Just, TOUCH HIM, in SOME way-

He acts spoiled and bratty so you would put him in his place. Yet nothing. Only a disappointed smile and a verbal smacking are all he gets. He wanted you to throw him on your mattress and fuck him till tears were flowing like waterfalls, his lips trembling, not even a single word was hearable. He knows it’s wrong to wish that upon you, but who told you to be just that irresistible???

Friends, you said. No, he wanted more...

It started with just innocent photos of you in clothing that show more skin than he’s used to, like the many bikin shots he took when you brought him to the beach one summer. Now borderline excessive, taking short even long clips of you showering or heavy, breathy moans escaping from behind the doors to the master bedroom.

Panties every now and then missing from your wardrobe? They must have gotten lost during washing. Wait, why are your undergarments soaked even though they had been in the dryer for an hour now? Must have not been long enough. They have a lingering scent to them? Must be the detergent going sour.

Why is he doing this? Well, he hasn’t been caught yet, so why stop now?

Well, he can’t exactly say he hasn’t...

“Zhongli, I’m.. home.. what the fuck-.. ”

You mumbled under your breath, his gentle groans getting stuck in his throat as he continued to rolled his hips on the soft and fluffy pillow that still has your addictive scent, fiction growing, movements even faster with that shock gaze of yours on him.

“M-mistress, m-mo-mommy, pleaseee!”

His hand reaching before retracting as he flinch at the immense pleasure coursing through his veins. Puffs of warm exhaletes mixed with the drench of saliva filling the room. You stood there, stiff as a rock. He paused. Has he overstepped his boundaries? Did he take it too far?

“My, my, puppy.. you really don’t know what self-control is, huh? Does my pet need to remember who’s in charge here? Need me to put him in his place?”

You chuckled, hand swooping up your front strands of hair, pushing them back. Slowly but steady, walking towards the mess in front of you. Yes. Yes yes yes. This was the feeling he wanted, the adrenaline, the thrill of what you were gonna do to him, he doesn’t just wanna be a companion, he wants to be yours.

“Has mistress been neglecting too much, hm? Tell me puppy, what do you want from mommy?”

Fingers trailed his jaws, setting your chill palm against his burning cheek. Lusty eyes closed, snuggling closer into the embrace of your hand. You giggle again, drawing him closer, your faint perfume making his eyes slight roll under the layer of skin.

“Don’t keep quiet now.. if not, I won’t know what you want from me~”

He bit his lip, features flushed as ever. Without saying a word, he places a palm on your covered thigh, index drawing swirls and squiggles on the pair of trousers. You sigh, your smile never leaving your lips.

“You want to do something to my thigh? What is it darling, do you wanna ride it or eat me till I break?”

“Ride... ”

“Louder sweetheart~”

“Please.. let me ride.. you.. ”

“Please who?”

“Mistress.. ”

“Good little puppy~”

You lift yourself up despite your desperate the little pet gently pawing at you. You glance back down, the puffy eyes of his, gloss of his tears shining in the yellowish undertones of the room. His pearly skin exposed, large dress shirt doing nothing to cover up his clean, pale neck, collar and plush thighs.

“Do you want me to have them up?”

He shakes his head.

You peeled away your tight cloth draped over your lower half, teasing the already huffing Zhongli, begging and pleading you to hurry up with those innocent and pure golden pupils. Sitting back down, hand drawing towards his back, pulling him on, the feeling of his already flushed dick rubbing against your warm flesh.

“Someone’s a little too excited~”

He steams in embarrassment, but the leaking of pre from his hot, red tip says otherwise. Slender fingers hold onto your shoulders with a strong grip, unexpected from his figure and physique. Nice and slow, he started rocking back and forth. Your touch wandered, one hand treading through his pretty long locks, another holding his slim waist.

Face pulling in closer, lips touching before you push your palm further, smushing you both together. Tongues in a heated dance, both of you lost in the favour and taste of each other. Only pulling away with a string of saliva connecting your drenched lips as creamy and white fluids flowed down your thighs, messing up the sheets below you.

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inlocusmads · 4 months

Text

hello, goodbye ~ jimmy rose

Jimmy writes a letter to his daughter, in the off-chance he doesn't come home. (crimes of passion)

wc: 949; teen and up

written for @choicesjanuary2024 day 10: Write a letter from one character to another.

a/n: just a really quick drabble to get me out of a slump - both in writing and well, everything lol

Nora,

Everything sucks, huh?

That is a terrible way to probably start this letter, but oh well. Herman, you know, the friend of mine who bought you that Tiana mug, tells me I’ve got to write a letter to my family and friends just in case I don’t come home. It is no military, sure, but being put in active danger everyday makes you want to write a little something just in case the worst thing happens.

It’s not going to happen. I doubt you’d read this.

If you do, here’s some life advice for when you turn twenty. I don’t know how old you would be if you read this, but I hope it is an age less than 20, because then there’s no point to this. You’d have learned everything already. Still, life advice is why I’m here. Besides driving you to soccer practice and waiting for you to score a goal.

I do hope you get better at soccer though. Exactly why I keep telling you - do your jumping jacks.

Back to life advice. I’ll keep this thing short because granted if you’re anything like me or Mom, you’d have given up reading this. Mom never liked stalling for time and long emails were no picnic for me either.

Anyway, life advice’s particularly useful if your life is sucky right now. So I hope it is. Not like that, but in a way you could really use some advice.

One: You’re going to need to hydrate. Fill up a flask with water. Good. Stick with it. Water’s your best friend if you ever plan on not fainting. Also, way less damaging for your gut. Whatever happens - even if you are in the middle of something horrible, look for water. Drink responsibly, you know the rest. Not water, though. Don’t skimp on that.

Two: I did not think this through. So when you’re writing a letter - or typing it - think everything through.

Three: You don’t have to get into medicine. Any Ivy League program works.

Kidding. I am, of course, kidding. I would hate to tell you to ‘do what you love’ because if that’s the case, I’m raising a future gambler with all of your trading cards and everything. I just want you to be able to find something you have the drive for.

Not what you love doing, because that stuff changes everyday. I want you to be able to find a consistent drive for something. Not because Maddy or Tracie or anyone else told you to do so. Or randomly picking a job from a website. I don’t want you to completely love what you’re doing, but if you’re going to wholly hate something, you might as well do it more efficiently and not pursue that any longer.

Four: Money management is everything. Get a ledger when you start earning and keep track of your expenses. I don’t want you to get caught up in the whole whirlwind in your 20s and get a house and fill it with voidless decor. New York’s expensive living. Getting four jobs to ensure you come home to mahogany furniture is less than ideal. I want you to be able to sit out of the water, rather than keep your head up just to breathe while everything drowns around you. That’s a really good metaphor. The point is, don’t screw around with money. Get frugal for a bit until you feel secure. That a coffee from a cafe isn’t going to ruin your weekly bills. That splurging on the good kind of produce isn’t going to make you feel guilty, you skip meals to cut costs.

I can’t offer good advice on this. I doubt anyone else can either, so it will be a bit of trial and error at first. You’ve got to figure out what’s important to you. That’s going to take you a while to figure it out.

Five: I don’t know what the future is going to look like. I don’t know if you’d get a Secret Service job for instance, or if you’d get married or date or do any of that. I have no idea if you’re going to even say, move to the middle of a farm and raise chickens, but I do hope you know I’ll try my hardest to be there for you. Doesn’t matter if you need me or not, if you’re going to punch me square in the shoulder and roll your eyes, but I want to be there for whatever incredible or horrible decisions you make.

If I’m not there, well, pretend I am.

I’m watching.

Kidding. Seriously Nora, don’t do drugs. Not worth it. Not even a weed brownie. I’m serious on this one, kid. If I ever find out, the grave won’t stop me. Everything might “suck” now, but all you need in the world are a couple of prayers, three meals a day and a good movie. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is my favorite. I think your Mother would have liked that too.

Also, keep in touch with family. Whether it be in Hong Kong or right next door in New York, don’t give up on family. My biggest regret is that I didn’t spend time with my cousins or aunts or uncles growing up. I think I would have had a very different life had I just talked to them. I hope you have that too- any kind of support system, really.

If you can’t find one, be one yourself. I know you’re strong enough for that, if you just got your head out of trading cards.

Just be kind, all right?

Dad.

***

Tagging:

perma: @quixoticdreamer16 @tessa-liam @stars-are-within-me

crimes: @trappedinfanfiction @ao719 @cassie-thorne @peonierose @moominofthevalley @jerzwriter

#crimes of passion #jimmy rose #w:inlocusmads #choices january 2024 challenge #nora rose #trystan x nora

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m1d-45 · 1 year

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i am. thinking about reverse isekai some more to get me through these trying times (finals season) and imagine the stress of having to take care of the poor acolyte(s) who ended up in your world (i'm going with adult reader who has their own apartment and job and pays taxes n shit. just bc i don't want to write abt explaining to parents/roommates what tf is going on)...... like ofc it's super cool like omg your favorite characters!!! irl!!! but after the initial surprise wears off?

obviously you can't just leave them out on the streets bc they'll like. i don't know. get fuckin hit by a car or something so you let them stay in your apartment!! your tiny. one bedroom. apartment. it's fine, you can stay on the couch! you barely have enough food to feed yourself, thanks to your minimum-wage budget? that's fine! you don't have to eat that much, and you can't just let your guests go hungry!!

they try to help the best they can, they really do... but all the finished chores and time spent learning how to use the technology of your world don't change the fact that they can't help with the one thing that seems to matter most in this world - money. with extra people to provide for, you're forced to take up extra shifts, work longer hours, just to earn enough to be able to not have to choose between eating and paying rent.

of course, you don't let them know about all this, but your guests don't tell you that they can hear the way you cry late at night when you think everyone's asleep, stressed out by everything that's suddenly been thrust upon you - teddy anon

god man you 🤝 me

that’s so. ugh man-

at first you’re so starstruck and in awe, excitedly talking to them and showing them what every appliance does—partly so they don’t break them, partly because you like the shine in their eyes as they learn.

the first week is easy, and it’s when you’re shopping that the reality of the situation starts to set in.

you’re not used to having to buy for two, and the subject of their clothing comes up quickly as well. not to mention the fact that they’re probably used to more organic or locally grown stuff, and what if they react badly to food here? and that’s putting aside what they like and prefer too, but you can’t let them leave the house since they’re still not used to everything-

and your job, gosh, you’d taken a few days off at first to help then adjust but now you were feeling the sting of that lost pay. not to mention the fact that all your expenses and bills would go up since, yknow, they needed to use lights and water and all that while you were out of the house.

and if more than one were isekai’d? godspeed, man…

thoma and noelle make themselves useful doing chores, but quickly realizing that there’s little to do. they quickly become antsy; though they try and make food for you to return to, they struggle with your appliances and your tastes, not to mention your lack of raw ingredients.

some like diluc, childe, or ayato try and offer you mora, pulling bags of it from their inventories to of course compensate you for your stay, but it doesn’t go over well. you have to deny them and explain that mora isn’t used here, but all that gets you is stunned confusion—and dawning horror, later, but that’s a burnt bridge when you get to it.

others such as venti or xinyan try and perform on the streets, but it doesn’t pay as well as they want it to. ningguang is a bit more confident in herself, but that crumbles the moment she realizes that she both holds no power here nor has any knowledge of the market. she knows she can do something, be useful, but she doesn’t quite know how, and that’s the worst.

a few tend a bit towards the ‘street performer’ type, whether intentionally or accidentally. i can see kazuha subtly using the wind to guess a number someone’s thinking of, and kaeya could easily keep someone talking long enough to perform some quick sleight of hand. no, he doesn’t steal—you’d get far too mad at him for that—but his ornate get-up and smooth voice draw people in often enough that he makes quite a bit in tips.

keqing, ganyu, and ayaka all offer to either get jobs themselves, but since they technically don’t legally exist, they try and help you apply to better ones instead. thoma might try and do housework for your neighbors—it serves a few purposes, including getting a bit of cash, keeping off legal books, and increasing your relationship with them. jean and ganyu try and help manage your finances, or at least learn how to file your taxes to chip away at the stress they’ve caused.

a few straight up offer to steal—yes, offer, they wouldn’t even breathe without your permission of course they’ll come to you before doing crime—such as dainslef, childe, or kujou sara, but you shut that down quickly enough. xingqiu spends a lot of his time on online writing contests, and the occasional 50-300$ comes in your mailbox, but don’t count on it. albedo might try and sell his art, but he’d much rather give it to you, to be honest. your smile is worth more to him than some stranger’s approval.

some are completely lost. itto, gorou, hu tao, sucrose, collei… they’re all at a loss for what they can do to help. they don’t know your world, they don’t know what’s happening, they don’t know why you lie about it being a guest room so they feel less bad about taking your bed. it doesn’t work.

none of them do, really. after a good few months, maybe a year or so, all of them fall to this level of helplessness. they don’t know how to get you back to their world, they don’t even know how to leave themselves, but it’s clear that their presence here is wearing on you. they try, they do, but even the most chipper of your followers can see how dreary you seem.

it feels wrong to lie in your bed. it feels wrong to depend on you, when it should be the other way around. it’s wrong to take your resources and your time, wrong for you to be the one in distress, and they can’t even do anything about it. they’re stuck within these four walls, unable to help you, stuck being helpless.

from down the hall, they hear you sigh, poring over yet another impossible choice, and the sound alone brings them to tears.

they needed to get you home. but how?

#m1d : [chats]#teddy anon #this should be a formal post ughhjcgggg #i need to stop putting words into stuff that doesn’t matter (not that you don’t matter ted but like. this post isn’t gonna reach a lot of #people i really need to shut up)#i know i haven’t been posting but in my defense sun and moon from fnaf sb #it’s ok i was sad earlier today and am prolly gonna cope w kaveh and or alhaitham so that should help settle me back in a genshin mood #mayyyb a thing w baizhu because i have gotten unreasonably attached wayyy too fast

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xiaq · 1 year

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Hi! I read an old post of yours from when you were teaching, where you said you earned 39k a year, and that it wasn't a lot of money. That would be 3k a month + 3k end-of-year bonus, especially if it's tax free (as in, all money already goes to you, with taxes already paid). In my country, that's a very good income. How much does life cost in the USA, for you to say that academia is not a career that makes you lots of money? I think I'd need context to understand, if you can explain, please :)

Hi there! So what it comes down to is cost of living coupled with an inability to put money away for retirement.

Also, that 39k is before taxes. So I was really making around 32k annually or 2,600 a month. No bonuses.

When I was making that, I was living in Dallas, TX and then Gunnison, CO. The average rent cost for a one bedroom apartment in Dallas was $1,500 base per month and in Gunnison, CO the average rent cost for a one bedroom apartment is $1,700. In both places I paid less than the average, but my total costs with paid parking, utilities, etc. were around $1,500. In addition to housing, I had to pay for health insurance which was around $2,000 a year, car insurance which was around $1,500 a year, and then general car maintenance which was $2-3,000 a year depending on if I needed new tires. I walked or rode my bike as much as possible, but was still spending at least $50 a month on gas (more when I'd go camping or drive home for the weekend 3 hrs away). I also had to pay for vet bills, food for me and my dog, and standard life stuff. Even with couponing and a strict budget, I was spending around $300 a month on food for me and my dog in Dallas and $400 per month in CO since food was more expensive in the mountains (like, a little box of strawberries was $8, a 2-serving bag of salad was $5). Also, even though I was paying for health insurance, I still had to pay copays and out of pocket for bloodwork and some specialists, which was a couple more thousand a year. I rarely went out to eat, I don't drink or smoke, and I bought all my clothes and books second-hand. Pretty much any time I traveled it was because my parents or friends were going somewhere and I could tag along, or I was car camping. So I was living a very frugal lifestyle and still had no money left at the end of the year to put toward retirement based on my teaching salary.

So, as a breakdown my approximate annual costs were (I just went and found an old budget spreadsheet from 2020)

Rent+utilities+wifi/phone $18,000 Health insurance $2,000 Car insurance $1,500 Car maintenance $2,000 Gas $1,000 Vet bills/dog food $1,000 Food $3,500 Medical copays and oop expenses: $2,000 Clothes $500 Books $500 Home-goods, laundry, cleaning products, misc $500 Skin, hair, hygiene products $500 Total cost: $33k You'll notice this is more than my teaching salary. I was doing a bit of tutoring and ghostwriting on the side and my parents were kind enough to pay for some of my car maintenance that year, which is the only reason I didn't end up in financial trouble.

Importantly, I had no money at all for emergencies or putting toward retirement. I was also working 60-70hrs a week, had very little opportunity for career/salary growth, and was constantly being asked to pick up additional unpaid labor for the benefit of students/the program. I loved teaching, but there was no way that lifestyle was sustainable and there wasn't any hope of retirement. AND I was one of the few people who had no student loans to pay off by the time I finished graduate school. Thanks to academic scholarships, living at home, and my parent's assistance, I had no debt. That is highly unusual for people in academia and I can't even imagine the stress it would have added to my life if I was trying to pay off student loans every month as well.

Also, I'd just like to point out that adjunct professors make even less than I was making as a lecturer, and even tenured profs don't make all that much more. The humanities in academia in the US is not the place to be if you're wanting to make a reasonable amount of money for the amount of work you're doing. :( By contrast, working in tech, I'm now making $100k a year (78k take home), I work 40-50 hrs a week, I'm putting money into my retirement every month, and my work/life balance is magnificent. I'm also up for a promotion in a few months and I have a lot of opportunities for career and salary growth in the future. For the first time in my adult life I don't feel like I have to count every penny, and I think I may actually be able to retire some day.

Anyway, I hope that helps give context!

#also the environment is so much healthier #love my boss and coworkers #don't feel like it's a constant competition #mylife #academia #professor things #sigh #money #maybe im jaded #but most of the current and former academics i know #say theres only money to be made at big name schools #if your field is humanities

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exeraldkltz · 6 months

Text

Bill x Reader

Tw: Alcohol use, Sexual content.

Sorry if this is bad or all over the place im tired asl.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The lights bounced off the club walls as the music pounded in mu head. my eyes were blurry and everything seemed slightly delayed.

“Imma get us more drinks, yeah?” Emi looked at me and I just nodded and found a guy to dance with rather than her. I looked across the club and saw somebody eye-fucking me, I didn’t really mind it though.

In fact I started to move my hips a little bit more erotically while looking straight at him. I studied him the best I could from the distance we had in between us. He had dark, dramatic eyeshadow and black dreadlocks with a few white ones mixed in.

I turned my attention away from the man and back to the one I was dancing with.

A few songs later I looked over to where the man had been before but he had disappeared. I felt this was my sign to go find Emi and get another drink.

“Four shots pease.” I told the bartender handing him some money. He handed us the four small glasses and we immediately downed the first two, then the second two.

Some time after me and Emi taking a few more and talking she had been swooped up by some guy and I was left at the bar. I didn’t mind though because it was good for her to meet knew people.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and whipped around to see the mystery man from earlier, I had completely forgotten about him.

“Hi pretty” he spoke in a thick, sexy german accent.

“Hello.” Was all I could manage. I was taken aback by how pretty he was up close. He grabbed my hand and started to lead me towards a table in the far corner. He let go of my hand and sat, patting his leg motioning for me to sit on his lap. I did as he wanted, sorta of falling in the process due to the amount of alcohol I had consumed tonight.

As I sat and aced my arms around his neck and looked into his eyes.

“I saw you from across the club and knew I had to speak with you, and my god you are even more beautiful up close.” I felt a pinkish color spread across my face and thanked him for the compliment.

He leaned up close to my ear and whispered, his hot breath causing a shutter to flow down my body.

“What do you say we go out to my car?”

“Mm I don’t know I don’t just want to leave my friend.”

“Listen baby, I know you want to. I can feel your pussy throbbing.”

I felt my face heat up more if that was even possible. The stranger who’s lap I sat on started to bounce his knee, I moaned out slightly at the new found pleasure.

Before I know it im being pulled to the exit of the club. He walked out the cold night air pricking my legs barely covered by my shorts dress. We walked up to a black muscle car, the paint glistening from the lights of the club.

“Can I know your name before I get into your car?” I joked around

“Bill Kaulitz.” He replied with a smirk. I responded with my name before bill pulled me into the back seat of his car. Wasting no time he crashed his lips into mine almost immediately deepening the kiss by shoving his tongue in my mouth, exploring every space possible.

He wrapped his hand around my throat pulling my head slightly to the side giving himself full access to my neck. He pulled away from my lips and sat up, pulling down my dress and unclipping my bra leaving tits completely exposed.

Bill pulled my dress of the rest of the way and admired my body, scanning it with his eyes.

“Fuck you’re even prettier naked.” He lightly dragged his hand over my boobs and down my stomach. Bill slid his hand down and started to rub my clit through my underwear.

“Your so wet for me princess” He said earning a moan in response.

He pulled off my panties and threw them tot the floor of his car. Bill then crawled down and attached his mouth with my pussy. I moaned loudly and gripped his hair. Bill quicker his pace.

“Fuck Bill I need more!” He shoved two fingers inside my pussy, curling them up with each thrust hitting just the right spot. I felt my lower stomach tighten and was surprised at how skilled he was with his tongue.

“im g-gonna c-cum” I stuttered barely being able to get words out.

“Cum for me”He replied in between licks. Just as he said that I finished onto his fingers with one loud last moan.

Not giving me any time to recover Bill sucked my cum off his fingers and started to kiss me again. I kind of cringed at the thought of that but ignored if and kissed him back.

He lined up his dick with my entrance and shoved it inside of me. I screamed out from pain and pleasure. After a few minutes of him slowly thrusting in and out of me the pain turned to pleasure and he sped up.

“Holy fuck you’re being so good for me. You’re so tight” Bill groaned. I threw my head back in pure ecstasy. Bill slid his hand back down to my wet cunt and started rubbing in circles again.

Tears fell from my eyes due to the overstimulation. I felt the knot in my stomach tightening up again and knew I was soon going to reach my second climax.

“Im gonna cum!” I screamed out trying to form words.

“Not yet baby. Hold it.” Bill commanded.

“I c-cant” I mumbled through my moans. Bill slowed down his thrusts and removed his finger from my clit. I felt myself loosing my high and cried out, “No please I need more! Please”

“Beg for it baby.” bill quickend slightly as to not let me completely lose the high.

“Fuck please let me cum! I need to cum for you Bill please” I begged him. Bill immediately sped up and I felt myself getting closer and closer. I tossed my head back and squeezed my eyes shut.

“Look in my eyes while you cum for me” I lifted back up my head and let my eyes meet with Bills. I released all over his dick for the second time and soon after he did the same.

#tom kaulitz #dark romance #smut #tokio hotel #bill kaulifz #tokio hotel smut #bill kaulitz smut

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violetrainbow412-blog · 2 years

Text

The jacket [R. T]

Roger Taylor x fem!reader

Word count: 2k

summary: by chance you find just what you wanted at a stall in Kensington market… but some problems arise

A/N: I got a little (a lot) obsessed with the story of Queen and especially Roger, so I couldn't pass up the opportunity. Tell me if you like it!

It was a cold, cloudy day, like most days in London, and you were walking in the direction of a sign posted on a building; Kensington market. You had earned a little extra money at work, so you planned to spend it all on quirky, colorful clothes like the ones they sold out there.

The place was huge so when you walked in you didn’t even know where to start. Each time you were filling more and more the backpack that you had carried with clothes of all kinds and you were happy to find cheap things that would work for you.

You were walking down an aisle quite distracted with clothes hanging on top of the stalls and almost like a miracle your eyes found it. It was an absolutely gorgeous jacket, just like the one you’ve been wanting for months, so you practically rushed over to the booth to touch it with your hands.

It was soft, brown in color, and with plush fabric that felt soft to the touch.

“Good morning, miss” you heard someone say in front of you. You had been so focused on the piece of clothing that you didn’t notice the man.

You were silent for a second, taken aback by the way he looked: golden hair, bright blue eyes, and white skin that looked neat. His features were delicate and he was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt.

“Huh… hi,” you said, feeling shy all of a sudden.

He was very handsome and that intimidated you, but the sweet smile he offered you afterward eliminated that feeling almost completely.

“Do you like that? It belonged to the countess from a distant country, she used to wear it to go out for a walk on cold mornings and it was her favorite, but one day she had a fight with her lover and he got rid of the garment out of spite.

It is a unique piece of its kind” he told you. Your first instinct was to furrow your brows in confusion, wondering if he was really telling you the truth or just making you look like a fool, but then you thought it was just a story he had built up on the fly to make the deal more interesting. That made you smile a little.

“How surprising. It must have cost a fortune if it belonged to royalty.”

“Oh, of course. But I can give you a special price and it will be yours for the ridiculous amount of 20 pounds” by this point it was obvious that he had made the story up, but you were surprised to hear the price. It was a little more expensive than what you had spent on other clothes, but you couldn’t deny that you were captivated from the beginning and it would be a crime not to take home that jacket “What do you say?” he asked noticing your silence. When your eyes met his, you felt nervous again.

“It’s more than I expected,” you said sincerely “But I admit that this is beautiful. So that’s fine, I’ll pay for it” you exclaimed as your eyes lit up.

“Smart girl,” he complimented you, smiling at you again. You could tell that he was a charismatic guy “I’m Roger, do you have a name?”

“Y/N”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he murmured and for the first time you burst out laughing.

“How original,” you said sarcastically. That was one of the most cliché phrases you had ever heard in your life, but even with that you couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m serious. It’s cute” he insisted. How old was that boy? He looked young, but the only thing that terrified you was that he was so much younger than you. You wondered if he sold clothes for a living or had a real job or if he was studying at some university or if he had a girlfriend. You weren’t attracted to all the men who passed before your eyes, but this one in particular had something that had captivated you a little. A bit embarrassed, you handed him a bill which he exchanged for the jacket. “Do you need a bag for that?”

“No, I’ll use it now” you answered and fulfilled what was said. He let out a low whistle.

“Looks Good. It was a great purchase,” he said. It was probably routine with all the customers so they would be satisfied with what they just bought, but you didn’t care.

“Thank you, have a nice day” you murmured as you took your things to continue with the walk.

“Have a wonderful day too. Whenever you want to come back, I’ll be waiting for you” he politely said goodbye. Again you thought that it was something he said to all the buyers and at this you showed him a grateful smile.

You thought that after walking through a few more stalls and not liking anything, it was best to go home. You could put on the TV for a while, make tea, and enjoy a lazy Sunday.

You were wandering down the long corridor in thought until something interrupted your thoughts and made you let out a shriek.

It was that boy again.

“Hey” he exhaled agitatedly. He looked like he had run and his cheeks were flushed as he looked at you.

“Hello,” you said confused. His hand was on your bicep, but he only held it there for just a moment and then fell back to his side.

“Listen, I’m… I’m really embarrassed, but I need the jacket back,” he mumbled, but all he managed to do was deepen your frown, so he thought he’d better speak again “It wasn’t for sale, my partner left it there and that’s why I thought it was, but… it’s important and I’m probably going to end up dead if I don’t take it” he explained. You could have told him no and you would have every right, of course, since the mistake had been his, but he sounded so desperate and sincere that you felt bad for him. Maybe the universe was trying hard because you didn’t get it.

“I thought he belonged to a countess” you joked without much encouragement. He laughed nervously and was overjoyed when he saw that you had started to take it off.

“It’s more like a queen” he snorted and you instantly understood why his urge to get it back; it belonged to his girlfriend. You were going to give it to him when a doubt invaded you.

“You’re going to give me my money back, right?”

“Yes! Of course I will” he hastened to reply “And I’ll give you whatever you want from the position as compensation, I’m really sorry”

“Oh, it’s not necessary”

“I insist,” he said with determination “If you want you can accompany me for your money and so you choose something, does it sound good?”

he asked with a smile. Either way you had to tag along for the money and you thought the idea of getting something for free sounded too tentative.

After you nodded your head, the two of you began to walk in silence, but it didn’t take you more than a few minutes to reach the place.

You had expected to see a pretty girl, but in her place was a man with long hair and a furious expression.

“You are an idiot, Roger”

“I already told you I didn’t know! It’s your fault for just leaving it there” he defended himself.

Apparently the opposite hadn’t noticed your presence and when he did his expression softened considerably.

“Sorry what my friend put you through, love,” he apologized, but you waved your hand dismissively. “But at least I have to admit you have good taste,” he continued, making you laugh.

“It’s a really beautiful jacket”

“We have some similar ones back here and there are also some dresses that I think would look perfect on you, what kind of clothes do you like to wear? Because an A-line skirt would really flatter you,” he started to say, pulling you inside and causing you to lose sight of the blonde. He had an impeccable fashion sense and for a moment you wondered if he was a... gay man. To be honest it wasn't something that bothered you, but many people considered it a mental disorder and a sin. Then you also wondered if the blond in front of the stall was that boy’s boyfriend “My name it’s Freddie, by the way”

“I’m Y/N”

“Nice to meet you. Usually it’s Roger who gets the attention of the nice girls, but now he’s too embarrassed with you to do anything” he sneered. You didn’t expect that and you were surprised, but with that sentence you had confirmed that the blond liked girls, with the possibility that you were one of them “Do you like this dress? It’s an antique, but if you pin it here and take off the sleeve it’ll look wonderful,” he continued. You weren’t planning on staying that long, but Freddie’s advice was great and you liked the view out there. At some point Roger joined the conversation, possibly getting over his embarrassment, and before long you were having a fantastic time. They were both very charming and friendly.

“Although I liked being with you, I have to go, I still need to buy a couple of things” you expressed embarrassed “But thanks for everything, the advice and that”

“It was a pleasure, you can come back any day you want, we’re here every weekend, right, Roger?” Freddie said gently.

“Sometimes only Freddie is there, I’m going to play”

“Like… in a band?” you asked, slightly interested, hoping not to be reckless.

“Yeah, in a band called Smile” he muttered happily “I play drums”

“Wow” you gestured “And it’s like… ballads and stuff?”

“It’s rock”

“Oh” you sighed again. You wouldn’t have guessed that he would do that, but now that you knew, his style seemed to fit very well. You could imagine him on stage banging on the drums.

“You should hear them one day” Freddie went ahead to say and you looked at him in surprise “You have a show at the Imperial next week, don’t you Rog?”

“Huh-uh,” he said, a little nervous. He didn’t expect Freddie to do that and he was going to make sure he charged him dearly.

“Well, I’ll have to go around there” you replied “If you don’t mind, of course”

“Not at all. The more the merrier, isn’t it?” he laughed. He sounded quite sincere and you eliminated the idea that he would have been made uncomfortable by the idea of you in one of his shows.

“Well, it’s done” you smiled. You really had to go or you wouldn’t have enough time for the rest of the day “See you later”

“Saturday 8:00 PM at the Imperial, don’t forget it! Have a wonderful week, darling”

“Goodbye,” said Freddie and Roger respectively.

Both of them watched you walk down the hall until you were lost in the distance “Fred, may I know why the hell you did that?” Roger yelled, you were barely a safe distance away.

“C’mon! You were dying to invite her” he mocked his friend. Roger was so flushed that he looked like a ripe tomato “And I’ve never seen you be shy around women”

“But I sold him a jacket that I later took from him”

“And we gave her an item of clothing and my priceless fashion tips. I think that makes up for it” he continued, at his calmest for the matter “Besides you owe me this”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know when I’ll ever get a chance to embarrass you again for almost losing my precious, so I decided to do it now,” Freddie muttered, shrugging softly, as he arranged a few china figurines they were selling.

“You are the worst”

“When you’re making out with her behind your car, you’re going to thank me,” he assured him. Roger grunted and then laughed as he gently shook his head. As much as he wanted to deny it, he felt a little happy at the thought of seeing you again.

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #roger taylor fanfic #queen fanfic #freddie mercury #queen #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x female reader

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xcaptain-winterx · 2 years

Text

Hello, sinner

officer!Bill x stripper!reader

summary: who would have thought that the good officer would have such a dirty secret

warnings: smut 18+, innocent Bill, stripper, dirty secrets

a/n: This is my second time writing a fic, I’m still trying to write good. English is not my first language, meaning you will probably find a lot of misspelling etc. Tbh I have a love hate relationship with this. This is another fic for @chrisdrysdale writing challenge💕 prompt 39 - "Words darling, I need words"

Time to sin Masterlist

Part 2

He knows he shouldn’t be doing it, he knows what he’s doing would harm his career if someone found out, he shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t be with you.

It was an accident, everything was an accident. At least the first time.

He still remembers it all, the first time he saw you after he had to come to the club because of a little ‘accident’ that has happened. The way you looked at him made his knees weak. He remembers how he stumbled drunkly, later that night, back into the club.

To find you.

He remembers the way you dragged him back into the famous back rooms. That’s when his addiction started.

Bill is looking at you right now, how your body moves to the music. His religious mother always told him to only worship one god, he may not be worshipping the god his mother wanted him to worship but there’s no way that he will stop worshiping his goddess. It pains him to not be closer to you right now, during your little show. He has seen your shows so many times yet it feels like it’s the first time he’s seeing them, seeing you.

Envy was something he never had to deal with before he meet you, there was never a reason to feel that way but seeing how those men were looking at you, oh boy. Even from the back where he was sitting he could still hear how they were talking about you and he could definitely see how much money they were throwing at you.

You usually make more money in one night than Bill earns in one month. Even though he has less money than you, he still pays you good, he even sold his car to be able to pay you more.

You finish your show, throwing the men, who are begging for another dance or for a private dance, a wink before leaving the stage on the way to the changing rooms, while the bouncer collects the money of stage to give it to you backstage.

You sit down on the makeup chair, checking if you need to do some touch ups or if you can just go to Bill and drag him to the back rooms. Thankfully everything looks still good so you just spray a bit of your favorite Chanel perfume. The bouncer arrives a second later and gives you the bucket with your money inside. He gives you a smile before he leaves again. You quickly put your money in your locker and then start to make your way over to Bill. You already saw him, you always see him, nobody sees him far in the back except you.

Bill sits straight up as he sees you walking towards him, after all this time he’s still nervous around you.

“Come on, Sir” you say, as you lead him down the long hallway. Even though you’re wearing extreme high heels your still way shorter than him and Bill loves it. The way you barely reach his shoulder, god, how much he wants to have you. He would marry you, keep you pregnant for-no, he needs to stop thinking about it, he can’t think about you like that. He’s an Officer and you are just a stripper, that’s why no one can find out about this.

At the end of the hallway he can finally see the red door with the sign pleasure room.His already half hard dick gets harder as you both enter the room.

The first thing you see when entering the room is the kingsized bed with red duvets, right in front of it is a pole and above the bed is a mirror. There’s also a red couch and armchair on the left side of the room. On the right side of the room is a small dresser and another mirror next to it. Bill only ever saw some glimpses of what’s insides the dresser, as far as he knows there are towels, wipes and ropes in there but he also overheard some men at the club talking about toys being in there. Bill first didn’t understand what they meant, why would toys be in there, so he googled toys and strip clubs, and had almost a heart attack when he found out. You see, he never used a toy or had a partner that used one. Bill spend hours looking at all different kinds of toys. He really hopes that you will use one on him one day.

He sits down on the couch, watching as you walk over to him and sit down on his lap, legs on each side of his hips.

A whim leaves his mouth as you slowly roll your hips over his hard dick “What can I do for you today, Officer” you whisper in his ear, biting his earlobe. No words leave his mouth, to caught up in the pleasure he’s feeling just from your rolling hips.

“Words darling, I need words”

“I-I just need you” he manages to stutter out as you drag your hips over his dick again. He expects you to tease him before actually doing something, like you always do but you immediately slip off his lap and get on your knees. A big moan leaves Bills mouth as you unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants and boxers. His dick springs free right against his covered stomach. He should be embarrassed that he’s already that hard but he’s to caught up in the pleasure of his dick finally being free to even really notice.

You let your finger run up and down his length, giving his balls a little squeeze before licking from his tip to his base a thick stripe. Hearing Bill let out a whine you make quick work on taking his length in your mouth. You sucked a lot of dicks in your life and you must say, Bills is not bad, eight and a half inches long and two inches thick. You of course had customers with bigger sizes but it’s still better than sucking dicks of boys who just turned 21 who act like huge fuckboys.

Bill almost cumes the second you take him in your mouth, moaning at the feeling of your warm tongue. He starts to move his hips a bit more forward, needing more. Moving one hand to grab your head, not taking control only holding you. You take more of him in your mouth while bobbing your head faster.

“OH GOD” he screams as you drag your one hand to his balls, squeezing them. That’s all it takes for Bill to cum.

Panting heavily while watching you swallow all of his cum.

“Mhm, baby, you taste so good” you moan at the taste of his salty cum.

You give him a confused look as he leans forward, only to realize that he wants to wipe your tears away, that escaped your eyes. God, he’s just to sweet.

You Stan back u, looking Bill directly in the eyes as you snap the band of your crimson red lace panties. Getting the hint Bill starts to slowly pull your panties down, seeing your wet pussy makes him hard again.

“You’re so wet, sweetheart” Bill says, not taking his eyes of your pussy.

His eyes move from your wet pussy to your face as you sit back down on his lap, your pussy now being directly over his dick. Bill can feel you dripping down on him, buckling his hips up, he needs to feel your tight pussy swallowing his dick.

You chuckle at his desperate state “Getting all hard again just from seeing my wet pussy. Oh you love the fact that you make me this wet, don’t you. Yes, only you’ve been able to make me this wet for the past 7 months.” you say, while you start to sink down on him.

He feels the tip of his dick entering your heat, throwing his head back at the feeling “Y-You mean for the past 10 months” he moans out, grabbing your hips to pull you faster down on his dick, letting out a silent scream as he bottoms out.

“Ahhh, god Bill” you moan out as a reply “has it really been that long?” you clench around him.

“Y-Yeah” he stutters “and uh 13 days”. His face goes red at embarrassment, hoping that you think that he knows the exact date because of the accident that happened that day and not because he’s totally obsessed with you.

You let out a laugh before unclasping your bra, not taking it off though. Bill knows what you want him to do. His hands leave your hips, shackling hands now reaching up to take your bra off.

SLAP

Bill looks at you shocked. You just slapped him. Ok, you just slapped his hands but you still slapped him.

The puppy eyes he gives you almost make you feel bad but you can’t let that show.

“No hands, sweet boy” he gives you a confused look. No hands? How else is he suppose to get it off of you, maybe if he-oh. Then he realizes it. Putting his hands back on your hips, moving you a bit faster down his dick, he leans forward opening his mouth. You stare at him as he pulls the bra off of you with his teeth. You can tell that he tries to be really careful while doing it, probably scared that one wrong move will ruin your bra. It wouldn’t matter though, the set was only 3,000$.

The bra falls to the floor, moaning that your breasts are finally free.

“Can I-I touch them” your eyes snap to Bill at that question “please”

“What are you waiting for?”

Moving one hand to your left breast, rubbing your hard nipple. A loud moan leaves your mouth at the feeling, rocking your hips harder against his. Bill whimpers, he can feel his balls tightening and his dick twitch.

“OH SHIT! I’m cumming” he screams as his orgasm ripples through him.

Sitting up from his lap so his seeds only land on his trousers and the black marble floor.

You make quick work on rubbing your pussy till you cum. A loud moan leaves your mouth as you cum all over him.

Bill fall back against the coach, panting heavily while you get some wipes to clean you both up.

After your done cleaning you sit back down, this time only on one of his knees. “I guess you enjoyed it” you say, leaving soft kisses down his neck.

“Y-Yeah, I love when you-uhm you know do this-“ Bill tries to answer but he just can’t get his words out.

“When I do what?” you ask, sucking on his neck.

“I-WAIT STOP” Bill almost screams “No marks, nobody can know about this” you huff at that, walking over to the plush bed.

He doesn’t like seeing you like this but he just can’t be seen with marks. He’s not married or is he dating someone and everybody knows that.

There’s a heavy silence before Bill decides to break it “Uhm…how much do I have to pay you this time?”

“We’re not finished”

Normally he loves hearing that but not today “I’m sorry I can’t, I don’t have that much money on me right now”

“You know, a little birdie told me that last week was your birthday so let’s say this is a little present just for you. Now come here”

Bill moves over to you next to the bed. It’s true, last week was his birthday and his whole neighborhood celebrated. That’s why he didn’t come to the club to see you. God, did he wish he could have come to the club that day, a birthday blowjob from you would’ve been the best gift.

“You don’t have to, sweetheart. It’s not that important” he doesn’t want you to use your body again for someone else’s pleasure. He doesn’t know how may customers you have everyday and he doesn’t really want to know. Bill wishes he could be you only man.

“Shh shh shh, you’re important, you’re my favorite customer. That’s why we are gonna try something new”

He doesn’t know what makes him more nervous, that you want to try something new or the butterflies in his stomach as you said he’s your favorite customer.

“I’ve never showed you what pleasure can be made in this bed but now it’s time to show you” you say, unbuttoning his shirt.

It’s happening, Bill can’t believe it. How often he dreamed about doing something in this bed with you. He slightly turns his head to look at the bed. He wanted to have you in this bed since he first saw it.

a/n: part two will make a lot more sense. Tell me what you think of it. Love you guys❤️

#chris evans #officerbill #bill #bill x reader #chris evans x reader #bill x y/n #officerbill x reader #chris evans x f!reader #chris evans x you #Chris evans x y/n #stripper!reader #writingforbella #lobby hero #Time to sin AU

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