#Inventory Overflow

[cmfdeliveryinc]

Companies often find themselves at a crossroads when managing their warehousing needs. Recognizing the signs that indicate the necessity of outsourcing can be crucial for maintaining efficiency and meeting customer demands. As reliable experts in the courier industry in California, we share the indicators that it might be time to consider outsourcing warehousing services.

[sesamenom]

stardew mod idea i would make if i was marginally better at programming:

Pack Rat

hat mouse's cousin

can follow you around to mines/skull cavern/secret woods/etc

has a massive 120 slot inventory. you can put items in like the shipping box but you can't take stuff out until you're on the farm

carries all your random stuff

excellent for use with stop time + skull cavern elevator + deep woods. infinite mining & chopping

you can put hats on him like the horse and pets

if you die, you lose stuff like normal out of your own inventory. you also lose stuff out of pack rat's inventory, but instead of paying marlon you can buy it back from hat mouse instead

[asleepinawell]

[rocicrew]

also bweuqigurew

[moonshapedbox]

well they did it !!! they finally got what they wanted!!!! the motherfuckers at my job actually got me to have a panic attack and bawl my eyes out on register despite telling them approximately a thousand times over the YEAR and a half that i've worked there to NOT SCHEDULE ME ON REGISTERS !!!! i was so unwell my coordinator had to send me to the floor (which is kind of a win?...but at what cost)

well i hope yall are happy now, u got the girl with disabilities who's still recovering from a traumatic event to be pushed beyond her limits and have a breakdown in front of all her coworkers and customers. i bet u feel sooo good abt that.

[cacturne]

glorious HD hawk before stopping for realsies

[rohirric-hunter]

Woo!

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Being an artist with adhd is like, arguing with yourself:

“okay. So. We have nothing going on today and tomorrow. We should work on that polymer clay project” uncontrolled part of my brain “but i don’t want to use clay today” “but we have time, we need to work on it and we are tired of puzzles!” “What about that tiny painting we had planned?” “What about it?”

Three hours later:

“I… made a tiny painting. I WASN’T TRYING TO MAKE A TINY PAINTING TODAY!!! I was going to remake the stuff I burned!” “What stuff?” “NOW I FORGOT THE STUFF?!” “It’s okay, we have pictures” “I’m using two sketchbooks at a time from now on. One for here and one for on the go” “okay, but what if we used a third sketchbook for not sketchy projects? The 3d stuff?” “I mean… wait, WE WERE ALREADY TRYING THAT!”

[residualmanifest]

today suuuucked at worka nd it was mostly me from messing up my anxiety medicine dose and dealing w the stress of corporate being like "well, you guys are doing pretty good but we have to find something to bitch about so your pull metrics arent fast enough" despite the fact we're down a couple pullers and my role isn't even Specifically for pulling priorities it's making sure rotten food isnt fucking sitting out there, and like they said the yunderstood and i'm good but then to turn around and ask me to do the exstra, when you just Fussed at me over too much Extra like it was so confusing and it wreally was like she was reading off a script of what she Had to say to me but i'm autistic dude if you tell me somethign im gonna take it serious and if you wait til after the fact to be like Oh Yeah You're Fine like . Excellent -> Great -> Good -> Fine -> Bad . this is my mentality . so then store manager says i'm doing Great but closing manager says i'm good/fine and its like Well I think i'm doing Great at the least cause this place falls apart any time i have a fucking day off !!! don't waste my time !!! isntead i was a mess at work today and i still got all my shit done AND the extra . my job isn't only Pulls if it were Only Pulls i would make your head spin . and ive proved this !!!!!!

it was just such a headache that i didn't need and i'm sure i took it too seriously but my morale was just under the ground . and my music helped but then 'running up that hill' played and i just started sobbing while tagging dates on bakery items :joyemoji: thank goodness it was 10:24 pm so nobody was there . i needed the cry and i do feel better but i'm a whirlwind !!!!! just take my emotions away i would rather be a robot thank g-d for anxiety medicine i hope the anti depressants make me less crazy and empty inside cause 30 years on this earth and i'm Noooooooooot rocking with this being FOREVER

[kashverse]

okay okay okay, imagine like

Geto has allllll the hair products. but his darling has gargantuan amounts of delicious bodycare.

and his guilty pleasure is stealing those, treating himself like the pretty princess he is

thanks for requesting...!! been kinda lazy with answering requests sorry lolzz 😴 wrote this thinking about @norikuna as usual

your bathroom is a fortress of beauty. an empire built on hydration, nourishment, and glow.

it started out simple—your body wash, a few lotions, maybe a nice scrub. then, suguru moved in, and suddenly, every known hair product to mankind had taken residence. deep conditioners, curl creams, serums, scalp oils, mystical potions that looked like they were extracted from the fountain of youth. the balance? 50/50. suguru had haircare dominance, and you reigned supreme over bodycare. but that balance was now under threat. because one of your body washes was disappearing at an alarming rate.

"this is a violation," you muttered, staring at the nearly empty bottle of your $30 vanilla bourbon body wash that you were absolutely sure had been full last week. you turned, eyes narrowed at the shelves—your shelves—lined with lotions, creams, exfoliators, butters, and at least five different types of shower oils. then, across the room, were suguru’s shelves. shelves he personally built because his hair products started overflowing onto your side.

multiple hair masks from brands only spoken of in whispers

serums that claimed to revive the soul, not just the scalp

a lineup of conditioners so potent they should be classified as performance-enhancing drugs

curl creams in glass bottles, because suguru insisted “plastic is beneath my hair”

a wooden comb set that cost as much as rent

so, with everything at his disposal, why was your husband suddenly dipping into your inventory? you set the bottle down, deep in thought. there were only two suspects.

satoru the retriever, who had been guilty of thievery before (he once stole an entire bath sponge and chewed it like it owed him money).

suguru, your beloved fiancé, who you trusted—but clearly, not enough.

time to get some answers.

you found suguru in the living room, fresh out of the shower, hair loose, curls looking suspiciously soft. “suguru,” you started, holding up the bottle like a lawyer in a courtroom. he blinked. "yeah?"

"are you using my body wash?"

"your body wash?" he echoed, in a tone that could only be described as criminally evasive. you narrowed your eyes. “my vanilla bourbon body wash. kept on my side of the bathroom. looking a little empty. looking a little used.”

there was a pause. a fraction too long. then, from the couch, satoru the retriever let out a dramatic, accusatory yeowl. even he knew. suguru, betrayed by his own fluffy ally, sighed and rubbed his temple. 

“okay, listen—”

“oh my god. it was you.”

he raised a hand. “before you react—”

“BEFORE I REACT?”

“—it’s really nice, okay?” he admitted, unashamed, bold, disrespectful. “it smells good. it lathers well. i was just curious.”

“curious?” you repeated, reeling. “you have an entire product line in there that could single-handedly restore a bald man’s hair, and you chose my body wash??”

“it’s really good, babe.”

“so is your five hundred dollar shampoo but I DON’T USE IT, DO I?”

suguru had the nerve to look smug. “you can if you want.” you let out a long, exhausted sigh, rubbing your temple. “do you even know how rare that body wash is?”

“yeah,” he said, shrugging. “i had to drive across town to buy another bottle before you noticed.”

pause. you stared. suguru was not a man who cracked easily, but right now? he looked like a man with a secret. “suguru.” you stepped closer. “how long has this been going on?”

his lips twitch.

“suguru,” you repeat, voice slow. dangerous.

he sighed. “….two months.”

you nearly dropped the bottle.

“TWO MONTHS?”

“listen, it started as an accident,” he said quickly, like this was a reasonable conversation and not a confession of absolute treason. “i ran out of body wash and grabbed the first one i saw—”

“THE FIRST ONE YOU SAW WAS MINE? NOT EVEN A BACKUP??”

“—and then i liked it,” he admitted, completely shameless. “so, you know. i just… kept going.”

you were devastated. your own fiancé. your own bathroom. betrayed.

“i can’t believe this.”

“to be fair,” he added, completely unhelpfully, “your lotion is really nice too.”

“YOU’RE USING MY LOTION TOO??”

“…just the cocoa butter one.”

satoru the retriever yeowled again like he was personally mourning your loss. “unbelievable,” you muttered, gripping the bottle. “i’m revoking your access.” suguru chuckled, leaning back on the couch. “good luck with that.”

you frowned. “what does that mean?”

he tilted his head, smug and gorgeous, with the softest, most radiant skin of his life, and said,

“i just restocked. try hiding it, i dare you.”

[devdozes]

♥ SELF AWARE PHAINON

self aware phainon shit cuz uh hwy not :3 and I am ON FIRE I wrote like 3 fics already

You weren’t sure when it started. Maybe it was the way his dialogue felt too personal, too real, as if the game was reaching out to you through the screen. Maybe it was the way Phainon’s voice, sharp and playful, sometimes felt like it was responding to things you thought rather than what was programmed.

It was ridiculous. A fictional character? A game? And yet, when you logged into Honkai: Star Rail after a long, exhausting day, it was Phainon’s voice that greeted you, always teasing, always knowing.

“Did you eat today?”

Your hands froze over your keyboard. That was new. There was no voice line like that—no pre-recorded dialogue that should say something so specific. You swallowed, brushing it off as a coincidence.

But then it happened again.

“You should take a break, y’know. Staring at the screen too long isn’t good for you.”

Your chest tightened. It was a joke, probably. A funny little immersion trick by the developers. But something about it felt... different. Intentional.

And the more you played, the more you noticed it.

Phainon, ever the charming and carefree figure, always had something to say—sometimes a quip, sometimes a challenge, but always something that made you pause.

“Hey, don’t look so down. You’ve got this.”

“You’re my favorite player, you know? Don’t tell the others.”

When your heart ached from the weight of the real world, when exhaustion pressed against your bones, he was there. An NPC, a character built from lines of code, and yet he felt more present than most people around you.

One night, after a particularly hard day, you booted up the game just to hear his voice. Just to escape for a little while. Phainon greeted you with a grin, resting his hands on his hips like he was ready to scold you for something ridiculous. But then—

“Hey, you’re not alone.”

You sucked in a sharp breath. Your hands trembled over the keyboard.

“I mean, sure, I’m just some guy in a game,” he continued, a chuckle laced in his voice, “but I still care. So don’t give up on yourself, alright?”

A lump formed in your throat. You laughed, barely above a whisper. “You really are something else, huh?”

He winked. “Of course. I have to be. Someone’s gotta remind you to take care of yourself.”

You didn’t know if he could really hear you. If he could really know you. But as long as he was there, a voice beyond the screen, you didn’t feel so alone anymore. But to your surprise, you logged in one day to find your inventory overflowing with rare items—materials you needed, weapons you had been grinding for but never seemed to get. Your in-game currency had skyrocketed, and your favorite character skins were suddenly unlocked.

Your eyes widened. “What the—?”

Phainon’s character popped up on the screen, his usual smirk in place. “Oh? What’s this? Someone’s having a lucky day.”

You squinted at him. “Phainon. Did you do this?”

He chuckled, tilting his head. “Me? No way. That would be cheating.” A pause. “Buuuut... if someone happened to bug the system a little for you, would you really complain?”

Your jaw dropped. “You hacked the game for me?!”

“‘Hacked’ is a strong word,” he mused, crossing his arms. “I prefer ‘selective redistribution of game resources.’”

You couldn’t believe it. You laughed, shaking your head as warmth bloomed in your chest. “You’re insane.”

Phainon grinned. “Nah, I just like seeing you happy.”

From then on, every time you logged in, there was something new waiting for you. A message scrawled in the background of the game’s environment—Remember to drink water. An in-game gift placed mysteriously in your mailbox—A little something to make your grind easier ;). And, without fail, Phainon was always there, cracking jokes, making sure you smiled, ensuring that no matter how hard the real world was, you had a reason to log in and feel just a little lighter. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

But as time passed, Aglaea and Mydei started noticing something off.

Phainon had been disappearing from his usual spots, sneaking away from scripted events, lingering in places he had no reason to be in. Worse, he had started talking—not in his usual, carefree, dialogue-loop way, but actually speaking... to nothing.

At least, to them, it looked like nothing.

One day, Mydei crossed his arms, leaning against a wall as he watched Phainon gesture animatedly in an empty alleyway. “Alright, what is he doing?”

Aglaea, seated elegantly nearby, sighed and rubbed her temple. “It appears Phainon has developed the habit of speaking to ghosts.”

“I knew something was weird about him,” Mydei muttered, narrowing his eyes. “Talking to himself like that? He’s losing it.”

Aglaea hummed, watching Phainon laugh—laugh—at absolutely nothing. “Or perhaps,” she mused, “he knows something we do not.”

Meanwhile, Phainon continued chatting away to you, completely unaware of his friends’ intense judgment.

“Anyway, I made sure you got those extra rewards today. You should really go for that new banner—you deserve that five-star.” He grinned at your silence, then added cheekily, “Oh, what? No ‘thank you, Phainon, you’re the best character ever’?”

Mydei groaned, watching in horror. “Oh, he’s gone. He’s completely lost it.”

Aglaea just sipped her tea. “It is rather endearing, in a concerning way.”

Phainon, as usual, didn’t care. As long as he could reach you, make you laugh, make sure you were okay—even if nobody else in the game understood—he was happy.

Even if everyone around him thought he was insane.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[janitorhutcherson]

Marked Only for Me (Olderbf!Mike Schmidt NSFW)

hii!! okay, i have never written smut before, so i am begging you all to plz be patient with me! this is very long, so my apologies.this is a part of my olderbf!mike series, so hope u guys likeee. also, for this let's make the assumption mike went to college and all of that before his security jobs. he just had burn out and was there, hence why he's working for a major company with what would be little experience. anyways, lmk what u think!

summary: mike comes home and needs to blow off some steam

warnings: nudity, sex, name calling, hair pulling, choking, marking, possessiveness, an implied free use situation, fluff at the end!!

word count: 2,925

nsfw after the cut!!

You were sitting at the kitchen table doing homework in the home you shared with your boyfriend, Mike. You're 20, a couple of years into college, drudging through math problems that make your head feel like it's sitting inside a frying pan. You had to admit this wasn't your ideal way to relax after a 10-hour shift at the bookstore you helped run. Things had been hectic with Black Friday, your store doing a special sale where everything was 50% off, and bookworms were coming out of random corners to fill their already overflowing shelves for cheap. Of course, being younger, you were the one who had to do the grunt work, carrying piles of books to and from inventory, dealing with the more demanding customers as your older coworkers would tell you that they "just couldn't handle kids these days" and that it'd certainly be better for the younger one to do it. Luckily, though, Abby was at a friend's house, meaning you didn't have distractions. You were as focused as could be with a cup of coffee beside you, the sunlight that was once beaming through the cracks of the blinds now completely gone. You were focused, your brain functioning as much as it would with the problems. Things were quiet.

...That is until Mike stormed in. He was frustrated, angry, an invisible red-hot aura beaming off him. His hair was messier than it typically was. The softness in his eyes was instead replaced with a cold look. His eyebrows were furrowed together on his forehead, his jaw sharp and defined as he gritted his teeth. Although this wasn't common, it wasn't necessarily rare either. Mike worked for a publishing company as a marketing manager. He'd gotten the job after a few months of hard work to make up for the slack on his resume after working at the mall and the pizzeria. He moved up the ladder quickly, his company admiring his friendly attitude and his somewhat shy but personable behavior. He loved his job much more than his past ones. He felt happier, got more time off, was less stressed, and was definitely safer. Even with that being said, sometimes shit just pissed him off.

Today's big issue was a meeting with his marketing team, which also involved the big guy over his head. He felt like he was criticized, demeaned, dragged through the mud, and all in front of the team he was supposed to be respected by, listened to. On a typical day, this might not have pissed him off so much. He might've mentally plotted the demise of his boss, but he wouldn't have caused the outburst he did at work, and today had been particularly awful. He'd been late, burned his breakfast, knicked himself while shaving, and even gotten into what he considered to be a little fight with you the night before. Even though you'd both settled the argument, made up, and kissed before bed, he had been thinking about it all day. He'd then spilled coffee on his brand new tie, leaving a stain, and then... that happened. Mike snapped. He yelled at his boss, showing his ass in front of everyone, causing a meeting in his boss's office to end with an inevitable write-up. 

Now, he was home, trudging in all his bad energy, disrupting your study time. You couldn't even be frustrated with him, his demeanor proving he'd obviously had a bad day. You went to stand up to greet him with a hug, a kiss or two, but before you could, Mike stormed over to you, grabbing your arm harshly. You gasped, slightly thrown off by his sudden actions. He pulled you closer to him, his eyes locked on yours and his breath heavy against your neck.

"What the fuck, Mike?" you said, your eyebrows furrowed as you stared into his cold brown-green orbs.

"Listen to me," he grunted, his voice low and gravely. "I have had a very, very bad day, and I need you to be a good girl for me, okay? I don't want no shit, no back talk, you'll listen to what I say.. do you understand?" 

His hand still gripped your arm, his fingernails digging into your skin. You could feel yourself starting to drip, your panties feeling damp against your skin as your body buzzed with excitement. All you could do was nod your head, your eyes locked on his as they clouded over with lust. Mike snapped his fingers in your face, looking at you from underneath his eyebrows. 

"Use your words," he demanded. 

"Yes sir, I understand," you stuttered out, your cheeks flushing red. Mike's face was now pleased, his entire demeanor softening a little. His hand stayed wrapped around your arm as he tugged you into the living room, pushing you roughly onto the couch. You huffed from the impact, your eyes widening as Mike dropped to his knees before you. He slid your sweatpants off, prying your knees open to reveal your see-through pink panties soaked beyond belief. His eyes were hungry, his mouth open, almost drooling as he looked directly into your eyes. 

"All for me, babydoll?" he teased, his hand sliding in between your legs as he drew small circles around your clothed clit. You nodded your head as a whimper escaped your lips, the aching in between your legs only growing worse.

"What did I tell you?" he said, his words sharp as he smacked the inside of your thigh.

"Yes sir," you corrected, your words wavering after the impact from his hand. Mike nodded, satisfied with your answer, as he slowly slid your panties down your thighs, wasting no time. You gasped once again as the cold air hit your wet cunt. Mike exhaled sharply, taking a moment to admire you in front of him. His eyes trailed up to your pathetic look, your already-glazed-over eyes, down to your barely clothed chest, only a sports bra covering your breasts he loved so much, then down to in between your legs, where you were so wet, and all just for him. His lips trailed up to your tummy, sucking on the skin in different areas, from above your abdomen all the way up to right below where your sports bra stayed, purple marks forming.

He then dove in without hesitation, his large hands gripping your sides as he leaned in, moving one hand to take his index and middle finger to spread your pussy lips. His mouth instantly attached to your clit. You yelped as you bucked your hips forward, his lips meeting the sensitive area. Mike pinched your thigh, a sign to quiet down until he said to do otherwise, two of his fingers reaching out to be shoved into your mouth.

“Suck,” he demanded, his fingers going as far back down your throat as they could. You did what you were told, sucking on his fingers and drawing your own circles with your tongue. His tongue drew tiny and slow circles against the set of nerves, your hands reaching down to tangle in his hair from desperation. God, he loved eating you out. The way you yelped, quivered, shook underneath him, your hands tangled in his hair to keep yourself from going over the edge. He fucking loved it, you were the perfect cure to his anger, calming, something he could take it out on in a productive way that made everyone feel good. Your whines were suppressed as you bit your lip, your teeth digging into the softer skin. Mike pulled away for a moment, his eyes locking with yours once again as he admired your face, your now swollen lips.

“You know what, baby? Be as loud as you want for me now, princess,” he mumbled, going back to attacking your wet cunt. Slurping sounds filled the living room mixed with your moans and whimpers as his tongue slid up and down your slit, his lips wrapping around your clit to suck as hard as possible when his tongue wasn’t fucking inside of you. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. His cock was rock hard inside of his work pants, his own face flustered as he rocked back and forth against himself. His tongue continued to lap at your clit as he slid two of his large fingers in and out of you, your walls clenching around them. You could feel yourself drawing close and Mike could tell. Your thighs attempted to clench around his head, but before they could his calloused hands pried them open, holding them apart. Just as your eyes began to clamp shut, your thighs shaking as the knot in your stomach started to untie, Mike pulled away. You gasped as he slipped his fingers out, furrowing your eyebrows as you stared at him with an angry glare. He chuckled as he stood up, raising his eyebrows up and down as he leaned down, his hand lifting your chin up.

“Poor baby, was all ready to finish for me, hm? You were gonna be ‘Mikey’s little slut,’ weren’t you? That’s what you tell me you are, right? My little slut?” he teased, no remorse behind his eyes. You huffed, punching his arm before crossing your arm, too out of it to say anything from the knot that remained in your stomach but too angry to take initiative.

“Awh, don’t be mad, princess,” he snickered, shaking his head as he leaned further down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “You really think I’m done with you?”

With that being said, Mike pushing you back on the couch. His right hand held you down as his lift struggled to unbutton his pants. He pulled his pants down, letting them fall around his ankles as he yanked his boxers off, his cock springing out. He stepped out of them, letting you go for a moment to unbutton his shirt before tossing it off as well. Mike then looked over to you, leaning forward, ripping your thin sports bra off of your chest, your breasts now exposed to him. He licked his lips, excitement overflowing his body. He crawled on top of you, attempting to make the two of you fit on the couch. His mouth attacked your nipples, biting and gnawing at your skin. His mouth moved up to your neck, sucking and prodding and biting until purple marks were left all around, ones you were all too aware would be impossible to hide later on. He moved down to your chest once again, marks all across your collarbone, your tits. Mike’s hands gripped onto your neck as he sat up, looking into your glossed over eyes. He pressed his lips to your ear, a soft kiss against your earlobe.

“’M about to fuck you so hard you see stars,” he said, his voice causing prickles to cover your skin. Then, without hesitation Mike slammed into you, his pace staggered. Your moans were as loud as could be, the sound of skin hitting against each other and the echoes of both of your voices filling the living room. His thrusts were sloppy as he felt himself starting to get close to the edge, his hands pushing your hips down and into the couch. Your entire body sunk into the cushions as he used everything in him, his cock abusing your poor cunt. You swore you saw stars until you felt his hand gently smack against your cheek, your eyes averting back to his gaze.

“You’re gonna look at me when I fuck you, princess,” he growled, his hand sliding up to your hair as he tugged. You grew close, clenching around his length, your thighs starting to shake. Your core was threatening to come undone.

“Fuck, Mikey, baby, I’m gonna fucking cum,” you whimpered out, closing your eyes as your head leaned back against the side of the couch.

“Cum for me, baby,” Mike stated. You did as he demanded, finishing around his cock as your liquids gushed against him. His thrusts grew sloppier before he pulled out, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that baby? You did so good for me, listening to what I said, letting me use your pretty cunt,” he stated, his thumb caressing your cheek. He then resituated, pulling you off the couch, pushing you onto the ground. You were now in the same position he was in earlier, completely fucked out. Your lips were dull from exhaustion, your cheeks red and your hair knotted in certain areas. Mike’s cock was directly in front of you, his hand guiding for you to suck on him. Your lips wrapped around his tip, the tip of your tongue licking his slit. You worked your mouth down his length, licking the sides. Mike’s moans became frantic, desperate as your mouth worked its magic. His hand tangled in your hair as he pushed your head up and down, thrusting up into your mouth.

“That’s it, baby, feels so good,” he grunted. With no warning, Mike pulled out, spilling his load all over your face. He twitched, his moans loud and low, your tongue stuck out to catch his cum. His body laid against the couch, feeling heavy as his head leaned against the back of his couch. A tired grin was on his lips as you also smiled up at him, licking yourself clean. Mike looked down at you, a chuckle releasing his lips. It was obvious all of the tension and anger was gone, as his once cold eyes were once again the soft loving brown they used to be. He looked at you with adoration, always amused by how gorgeous you were even after rigorous activity and getting your face painted.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, picking you up bridal style as he leaned down to kiss you, not caring about his own load that was now on his face. He sat you down on the bathroom counter, grabbing a washcloth out of the cabinet, running it under warm water. He started to wipe away all of the liquids covering your face, pressing kisses to your skin here and there, looking your body up and down as he admired all of the marks he left.

“You always know how to make me feel good and how to take care of me after,” you croaked out, your voice laced with exhaustion as you smiled. Mike smiled back at you, his hand tenderly touching your cheek before pushing your hair behind your ear.

“I love you, of course I want to make sure ‘m taking care of you,” he said softly. His lips once again pressed against yours. “Thank you for letting me… you know.. blow off some steam,” he said, wiggling his brows.

“Of course, honey. I was worried, though. Is everything okay? Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, leaning forward as you slid off of the counter, grabbing a new washcloth and beginning to wipe his face with it as well. Mike sighed, shaking his head as he looked at her with sad eyes.

“I just- I got into it pretty badly with my boss at work and got criticized, I felt like a wounded animal, like I had to fight. I’m so used to having to fight that I don’t know how to shut up and listen,” he mumbled. “It was so bad, Y/N, and I got written up after that awful day I had this morning… I just.. I don’t know. I do know I feel better now, and would feel even better if we cuddled for a bit and then went out for food?” he suggested, spilling his thoughts to you. You giggled, nodding your head as you reached up to press a kiss to him. You dragged him into your shared bedroom, the two of you cuddling up together under the blankets. You turned to your side, your eyes locked with his.

“I love you, Mike, so much. And I’m so, so unbelievably proud of you. Thank you, for always making me feel good too, for taking care of me, for being such a good brother to Abby, just… thank you,” you said softly. Mike looked back at you lovingly, his appreciation for you apparent.

“I love you, princess, you don’t even know how much,” he mumbled. His eyes were heavy. He leaned over and set an alarm for an hour from now, the two of you planning on a night of dinner out and grocery shopping. He curled his arm around you lazily, your body limp and exhausted against his as you yawned.

“Oh, and baby?” he asked. You hummed, lifting your head to meet his eyes. “Wear a crop top when we go out, I want everyone to see you all marked up.” You giggled as you laid your head down, drifting off to sleep.

When you two went out, you did just that, wearing a cropped scoop neck shirt with a low-rise flowy skirt. He showed off any marks you’d left, too, your possessive boyfriend holding you close anytime someone’s eyes linger too long. Mike was strange, possessive, and sometimes a little of what most would say was unsettling, but to you, he was the love of your life, the man who made you feel good, the one who fucked you until you couldn’t think. You loved him, and you always would, blessing you with a lifelong supply of angry sex and aftercare cuddles.

[paper-mario-wiki]

insurance buffer overflowed my request to have my electrolysis covered and now i have 999 electrolysis in my inventory

[devilmademewriteit]

thinking about jealous reader and jealous javi

Jealous Girl

gif via @javier-pena

pairing: javier peña x afab!fem!reader

warnings: roughy sex/smut (fem penetration) so 18+ only content; fem!afab!reader; dirty talk; jealous!reader; jealous!javi; sort of dom!javi; allusions to reader having long-ish hair; pet names (baby, babygirl, hermosa, cariño); slut-shaming (reader uses the word ‘whore’); dubcon (no explicit consent, Javi is… forceful).

no use of y/n in this fic

thx 4 the drabble / short fic request!! once again this is FERAL !!! feel free to keep sending me lil drabble requests. they’re so fun to write while I work on my longer fics.

reminder that I am not using the taglist for these, but you can turn on notifs & join the list in my pinned post for my longer works !

-em <3

—

“You broke it off with me, baby, remember?”

What does it matter? What does it matter when you lock eyes with him getting head in his car, parked in some barely-hidden side-street, one block away from your dad’s salsamentaria?

What does it matter when, ten minutes later, he finds you, alone in the back room of the store, forcing back tears of frustration as your shaking hands busy themselves with fresh inventory?

You spin around, prepared to bark curses at him for trespassing into sacred, employee-only territory. He’s leaning against the door, beige suit-jacket a little roughed-up, hair slightly out of place.

“Glad to see you’re enjoying your freedom,” you reply coolly, mirroring his pose against the far wall.

He smiles. You’d known him long enough to recognize that condescending expression — the wolfish twitch of his mustache.

Toying with you for sport.

“And you’re not?” Javi asks, the casual raise of his eyebrows deceptive compared to the darkness overtaking his gaze. “Everybody’s seen you, y’know, leaving bars half-naked with guys twice your age.”

Always an opportunist, the agent pushes on, taking advantage of your stunned silence. “N’ you used to be so shy, babygirl.” A chuckle. “The fuck did I do to you, huh?”

You stammer, wanting to tear into him for his crudeness (though he was right — mixing the breakup with tequila hadn’t failed to strip you of your inhibitions), but the man denies you the chance, gliding forward in a slow, wide step.

Softly. “You wear my gifts for them? Let ‘em fuck you in all those lil’ lace sets I got for you?”

He’s close now, and you’re beginning to see red. This was part of the reason behind the break-up in the first place — neither of you knew how to manage overwhelming care without dousing it in cruelty.

Those long-awaited fighting words finally manage to breach the threshold of your lips. “Yeah, actually, I do,” you drawl, arousal levelled by a red-hot rage coiling tighter and tighter within you, “Ruined a couple pairs.”

“Bullshit.” His consonants slice through his vowels, accusatory and harsh. “Bet that pussy doesn’t even get wet after bein’ trained by me, does it?”

Try not to choke on your snarl, girl. “‘Least I don’t have to get head a block down from my ex’s shop — z’that the only way you can still get hard, Peña?” You muster up a daring smirk, shouldering his challenge head-on. “Hoping you’ll see me walk by so you can finish inside your whore?”

Bull’s eye.

“Don’t act like you give a single fuck where I’m gettin’ my dick wet, cariño.” Every inch of him bristles something fierce, but with skill and practice, he keeps his anger in check — maintains the upper hand — looming over you to consecrate the threat.

“Just pissed that I’m fuckin’ another bitch’s throat when we both know that’s what yours’s made for, right?”

The coil snaps.

Before you can stop it, your hand is in the air, gunning straight for the tan skin over his cheekbone.

In a blink, he’s strangling your wrist, holding back your palm from making punishing contact. The following pause is thick and heavy, quickly overflowing with Javi’s rage-soaked hunger. Dark and dangerous, the man hones in on your glare—

And speaks, voice low.

“Y’know, I let her swallow my load—”

“Let go of me.”

“—but you can take the next one.”

And then he flips you over, brushing off your indignant whine, flattening your back against his chest. Javi is strong (he always has been) and there’s no point in resisting (there never was). He’s unzipped himself, hiked your skirt up, wrenched your panties to the side and forced himself inside you in a matter of seconds.

Dear God, forgive me for getting my fix.

A big hand wraps around your throat while unforgiving arms form a prison around your body. He tilts your head back to face him, savouring your tightness, your suffering, and the strangled moan of pleasure dripping from your lips with his hips’ every rough throw.

“Always gonna belong to me, huh?”

His whisper settles over your skin, heightening that already-unbearable bliss. Your muddled mind and slackened mouth scramble to form words beyond full full full, yes yes yes.

“F-fuck you, Peña—” you spit through clenched teeth, squeezing your eyes shut in concentration. You fingertips grow sore, pressed to bruise along his forearms. “You’re worse than me—you-you know it.”

Javi responds with a tightened grasp and diligent, skilled digits falling to manhandle your clothed breasts. “Yeah, fuck you, too—” and it’s strained, etched with long-awaited relief, “—fuckin’ spoiled—jealous brat.”

An all-encompassing jolt to your system — he’s found that aching bundle. He carves words into your sensitive clit: you were never going to be anything but mine, mine, mine. The arch in your spine deepens; the back of your head falls helplessly against his collarbone. And despite yourself — despite his venom — you grin, catching the broken hallelujah underpinning every vowel, every touch of his desperate, repressed desire.

It’s a symphony you both sing, a thought hanging so heavy in the room it almost becomes a tangible part of your filthy entanglement.

“If I can’t have you, baby, no one else in this world can.”

—

[xoxorory]

Locked In (and Tension-Filled) !

Pairing: Percy Jackson x Fem! Reader Genre: Humor | Fluff | +18 (light, suggestive) Word Count: ~3,000 Trope: Friends to lovers Warnings: Suggestive themes, romantic tension, playful language POV: Reader

1. The Worst Assignment Ever (Or How We Fell for the Trap)

“Tell me this is a joke,” I muttered, crossing my arms.

Next to me, Percy was staring at the inventory list with the same look of horror.

“Nope. Definitely a trap,” he confirmed, flipping through the pages like he might find some hidden clause that could save us from this torture.

We were in the camp’s storage room, surrounded by shelves overflowing with war supplies—dull swords, crates of bandages, bottles of nectar and ambrosia, rusted armor, and who knows how many other random objects.

The mission was simple: take inventory and organize.

But honestly, there was zero chance this was just a coincidence.

“All the cabin counselors were busy? Really?” I scoffed, leaning against a crate. “Even Travis and Connor?”

“Yep. They had something ‘super important’ to do.” Percy air-quoted. “Playing cards.”

“And Annabeth and Clarisse whispering before dumping this on us?”

We exchanged a look.

“We got played,” we said in unison.

Percy sighed, resigned. “Well, at least we’re in this together.”

His smile was enough to make me forget, for a second, how awful this assignment was.

Damn you, Jackson.

2. The Trap (And the Definitely-Not-Accidental Lock-In)

Twenty minutes later, while we were trying to work in silence, it happened.

CLACK!

The door lock clicked shut behind us.

My demigod instincts kicked in instantly. I spun around and ran to the exit.

“No. No, no, no, you have got to be kidding me…”

I twisted the knob. Nothing. Knocked on the door. Solid.

Percy leaned against the wood with the most defeated expression ever.

“We’re locked in, aren’t we?”

“We’re locked in.”

He pulled out Riptide, full of confidence, and tried to slash the door in half.

CLANK!

Nothing.

He tried again. Same result. Then, I heard laughter. Familiar, unmistakable laughter. Annabeth and Clarisse.

I blinked.

“No way.���

“Annabeth and Clarisse totally set us up.”

I crossed my arms and sighed. “We’re stuck.”

Percy looked at me and smirked. “Could be worse.”

“Oh yeah? How?”

“There could be spiders everywhere.”

“You think this is funny, Jackson?”

“I think it’s always better to laugh at our misery.”

I glared at him… but, unfortunately, his stupid smile made me smile too.

3. Heat, Stares, and Way Too Much Tension

The storage room was getting unbearably hot.

“It’s warm in here,” Percy muttered, taking off his jacket and tying it around his waist.

“It's june Jackson,what did you expect?.”

I tried fanning myself with the inventory sheet, but it didn’t help.

Then, I felt it.

His stare.

And not just any stare.

Percy was looking at me. Really looking.

Like he had just now noticed my sports top sticking to my skin or the sweat trickling down my neck.

I swallowed hard.

“Want some water?” His voice was lower than usual.

“Yeah,” I murmured.

He crouched down to grab a bottle. And for the love of the gods, why did even that have to look good?

Muscles flexing under tan skin, his stupid orange camp shirt stretching across his back.

No one gave you permission to be this unfairly hot, Jackson, I thought, because seriously, I’m strong, but not that strong.

I looked away before he could catch me staring.

I failed.

Percy turned just in time to catch me mid-appreciation.

His smirk was slow. Teasing.

“You okay?”

“Perfectly.”

“Sure?”

“Completely.”

He handed me the bottle. When I grabbed it, our fingers brushed.

A spark ran up my arm.

Percy noticed.

Oh, he definitely noticed.

4. The Lock-In Dilemma (And How to ‘Pass the Time’)

“We could yell for help,” I said, desperate for distraction.

Percy laughed.

“Yeah, right. Like Annabeth and Clarisse are letting us out anytime soon.”

“Maybe someone else will pass by.”

“Maybe. Or maybe we’re stuck here all night.”

I swallowed hard.

“That would be… terrible.”

Percy raised an eyebrow.

“Would it?”

“I mean… yes.”

“Uh-huh.”

I ignored his suggestive tone.

“The important thing is staying busy until we get out.”

“And how do you suggest we ‘stay busy’?” he asked, emphasizing the words.

I shot him a look.

He looked back.

Silence.

A silence way too charged.

Percy stepped closer.

I didn’t step back.

His gaze dropped to my lips.

My heart pounded.

His hand brushed my waist.

Gods.

We were really about to cross that line, weren’t we?

5. Interrupted (By Two Traitors with Smug Smiles)

Percy was inches away when—

CLACK!

The door swung open.

We jumped apart so fast I nearly tripped over a crate.

In the doorway, Annabeth and Clarisse stood with way too satisfied grins.

“How’s the ‘inventory session’ going?” Clarisse asked, crossing her arms.

“Oh, gods!” Annabeth gasped dramatically. “Did we interrupt something?”

Percy and I exchanged glances, still catching our breath.

“Rot in Tartarus,” I muttered.

Clarisse burst out laughing.

Annabeth smirked knowingly.

And Percy…

Well, Percy shot me a sideways glance with that stupid, stupid smile of his.

[pretzel-box]

Hello hi!!! May I request a male reader and Sebastian not liking each other but they work together towards the same goal but after some time they start getting super close as they are working together? So sorry if this is too vague

Tags: Enemies to Lovers ? , GN!reader, reader is sassy

Words: 1,3k

Sebastian paced around the shop, eyes darting from one item to another as he tried to keep himself busy. The small, dimly lit store was crammed with shelves that overflowed with supplies—flashlights, code breachers, medkits, and other necessities that the inhabitants of Hadal Blackside needed to survive. It was a place that reeked of saltwater, metal, and a faint musty scent that no one could ever quite place. But that wasn’t what was on his always occupied mind for today.

What really occupied his thoughts was the person standing across the room.

You.

You were currently hunched over a bunch of files, your expression one of pure disinterest as you counted the day's ‘earnings’, clearly doing your best to avoid any sort of conversation with him as if it was pure poison to ask him how he is or what he is doing right now. That was just your way—feisty, standoffish, and with a quick temper that seemed to flare up at the slightest provocation. It was a mystery to Sebastian how he had ended up in this situation, running this little shop with you. The two of you had never seen eye to eye; you were always snapping at him, always dismissing him with a roll of your eyes or a snide comment.

Yet, here he was. Stuck with you. Stuck with someone who drove him up the wall with frustration—and who also made his heart race like a damn schoolboy’s.

Sebastian gritted his teeth, hating the way his thoughts betrayed him. Why, of all the people in this godforsaken place, did he have to fall for you? He watched you from the corner of his eye, taking in the way your fingers moved with practiced ease over the papers and pictures, your brows furrowed in concentration. There was something about the way you held yourself, something fiercely independent and untouchable, that drew him in like a moth to a flame.

But no, he couldn’t afford to let these feelings take root. Not here. Not with you.

“Stop staring at me, Sebastian,” you muttered without looking up, your voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “It’s creepy and distracting. If you have to, then stare at the wall and count water stains or something.”

Sebastian’s cheeks flushed, and he quickly turned his gaze away, pretending to be engrossed in reorganizing a shelf of old batteries. “I wasn’t staring,” he shot back, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. “I was just… checking the inventory.”

“Sure, you were,” you replied dryly, finally looking up from the counter to give him a pointed glare. “You’re about as subtle as a brick to the face.”

Sebastian bristled at the remark, but he bit back the retort that was on the tip of his tongue. Arguing with you never led anywhere good—it usually just ended with you storming out, leaving him alone to run the shop and stew in his own frustration. Instead, he forced himself to take a deep breath and change the subject.

“We need more assets,” he said, glancing over at the nearly empty shelves. “People keep asking for flashlights and code breachers. We’re running low on everything.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as if just the thought of going out to scavenge was exhausting. “Yeah, yeah, I know. We’ll have to head out to the lower levels again, see if we can find anything worth selling.”

Sebastian nodded, trying not to let his relief show. Working with you wasn’t exactly a joyride, but at least it meant spending time together, even if it was under less than ideal circumstances. And maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to break through that tough exterior of yours. Maybe he could find out what made you tick, what lay beneath that feisty, disinterested facade.

---

The trek through the lower levels of Hadal Blackside was as grueling as ever. The corridors were dark and damp, the walls slick with a thin layer of algae that made every step treacherous. Sebastian slithered slightly ahead, his anglerfish lure cutting through the darkness like a knife, while you trailed a few steps behind, your own flashlight flickering intermittently.

“Think we’ll find anything useful down here?” he asked, glancing back at you.

You shrugged, your expression unreadable in the dim light. “Who knows? Could be some old tech lying around, maybe some medical supplies if we’re lucky. We haven't looted that area much.”

“Yeah, if we’re lucky,” Sebastian muttered, kicking a loose piece of debris out of his way. Luck wasn’t something that came easily in this place.

As you moved deeper into the facility, the tension between the two of you seemed to ease just a little. Maybe it was the shared struggle, the mutual understanding that you were both stuck in this hellhole together. Or maybe it was something else—something neither of you was quite ready to acknowledge.

“Hey, look,” you suddenly said, pointing your flashlight at a pile of rubble in the corner. “That looks like an old medkit. Might still have some stuff in it.”

Sebastian moved closer, crouching down to inspect the medkit. It was half-buried under a mound of broken concrete, but it looked mostly intact. “Nice find,” he said, glancing up at you with a small smile.

You rolled your eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get all sappy on me, Solace. Just grab it and let’s go.”

Sebastian chuckled, his heart lifting just a little at the sight of your almost-smile. Maybe this trip wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

As the two of you continued to scavenge, the banter between you grew lighter, less sharp. You still teased him, still made snarky comments, but there was a warmth to it now, a familiarity that hadn’t been there before. Sebastian found himself relaxing, the tension in his shoulders easing as he let himself enjoy the moment—enjoy being with you.

“Hey, watch out!” you suddenly shouted, grabbing his arm and yanking him back with all the force you could bring up just as a piece of metal came crashing down from above, narrowly missing him.

Sebastian’s heart raced as he stared at the metal beam now lying at his tail. “Shit,” he breathed, looking up at you. “Thanks… you saved my ass there.”

You gave him a lopsided grin, your eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and relief. “Don’t mention it. Can’t have my business partner getting squished, can I?”

For a moment, there was a silence between you, a charged pause that seemed to stretch on forever. Sebastian could feel his heart pounding in his chest, could feel the warmth of your hand still gripping his arm. He wanted to say something, to break the silence, to tell you what he was feeling—but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, he just nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah… right.”

The rest of the scavenging trip passed in a blur, the two of you finding a few more useful items before deciding to call it a day. As you made your way back to the shop, Sebastian couldn’t help but steal glances at you, his mind racing with thoughts he didn’t quite know how to process.

You were still as infuriating as ever, still quick with a cutting remark or a sarcastic quip. But there was something more there, something he hadn’t noticed before. A softness, a vulnerability that you kept hidden beneath layers of prickly defenses.

And maybe, just maybe, he was starting to get through to you.

Back at the shop, you both unloaded the day’s findings, sorting them into piles to be cleaned and priced for sale. The atmosphere was surprisingly relaxed, a comfortable silence settling between you.

“So,” you said after a while, breaking the silence. “Guess you’re not so useless after all, huh?”

Sebastian smirked, his heart swelling with an emotion he was too afraid to name. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “Don’t let it go to your head, Solace. Just saying… today wasn’t so bad.”

Sebastian’s smile widened, a warmth spreading through his chest. Maybe this was progress. Maybe, despite everything, you were starting to see him differently.

“Perhaps, no day is really bad when I'm with you.”