#Closet Rods at the Bottom

[ncspaint]

[oceanlovingcommunist]

i did so much work on setting up my bedroom yesterday and it’s FINALLY feeling Mine. it feels so good

[redr0sewrites]

Kafka (HSR) Headcanons

REQS R STILL OPEN<3 KAFKA IS SO PRETTY OMFG I LOVE WOMEN AUUUGH

🥀CW: Smut in the nsfw part, bondage, marking, overall kinky stuff, non-sexual nudity mentioned in the sfw part

🥀 minors dni with the nsfw portion

SFW:

god i love women

kafka is often very busy, so i see her love language as words of affirmation

she loves flirting with you and whispering sweet things in your ear just to watch you get flustered

she can often be very touchy and flirty, however if it makes you uncomfortable she is shockingly good with boundaries and will simply give you space why would u say no tho

she loves having your head in her lap while she plays with your hair

she enjoys taking baths with you, esp after long or difficult missions

she will go all out, she will light candles, put rose petals and bubbles in the water, epson salt cuz its soothing, anything you like. there WILL be romantic music playing softly in the background, i said what i said

she likes to give you back massages and will give you small kisses on the back of your neck

she is VERY protective of you, i wouldnt say to a super controlling level but enough where she gets jealous pretty easily

she is actually so bad at dropping hints like she will flirt with anyone and anything but the second she caught feelings for u she had no idea what to do

she legit just teased u and made fun of u, you would probably think she hated you for awhile until you figured out that she was obsessed with u

have u seen her fit? yall def share a closet

her clothes are your clothes and vice versa

seeing you in her clothes sets something off in her i swear

this often leads to steamy makeout sessions and yk what else

SHE LOVES DOING YOUR MAKEUP AND HAIR SHE WOULD HELP YOU GET READY EVERY DAY IF SHE COULD

she will also let you do hers, but not super often since shes kinda busy sometimes and doesnt want to take forever getting ready

the type of person who can walk for hours and hours forEVER in super tall heels/platforms or "walk it off" after literally being beaten to near death in battle but will complain for days if she gets even the tiniest paper cut

likes giving back hugs

this is random but i feel like she eoukd enjoy puzzles and word games

YALL R THE TYPE TO GO ON FANCY DATES YALL R THE BIGGEST POWER COUPLE EVER

she always, ALWAYS pays for u, holds the door for u, she will hold ur shoes if they're bothering u/she will carry u if she can, LITERALLY A MIX BETWEEN GENTLEMAN AND MILF BEHAVIOR

she will prob introduce u to the other stellaron hunters if u dont already work w them

her friends r ur friends now

yall have self care dates where u get ur nails, hair, and skin care done and go to fancy spas or get massages im too broke to do this idk what people actually do at a spa

overall amazing and wonderful we ignore the fact that shes insane bc its hot

NSFW:

here we gooo

switch energy SWITCH ENERGY

when shes more subby shes still in control, i feel like she would def be a power bottom at least

really enjoys commanding you and ordering you around, gets off on your obedience and your disobedience

HAIR PULLER

she WILL wear a strap and use toys on you, putting a vibrator to your clit/cock while your tied down and watching you squirm and whimper, using leg spreaders to hold ur legs apart while she eats u out/sucks u off, paddles, rods/dildos, thrusting vibrators, she has it ALL

if u dont have stereotypically "female" genitals/or even if u do, she will peg u. there is no escaping it. she will overstimulate you and she will fuck u until ur begging for her to stop, thighs shaking, chest heaving, sobbing and pleading for a break

IDK IF I SAID THIS ALREADY BUT SHE WILL TIE U DOWN AND SHE WILL USE INTRICATE AND PRETTY DESIGNS AND ROPES TO DO SO

she very much enjoys riding ur face, seeing your face covered in her slick below her... godd ur gonna be up the whole night

exhibitionist (i am prob spelling this wrong💀) SHE LIKES PRESSING U UP AGAINST WINDOWS WHILE THERES PEOPLE OUTSIDE AND FUCKING U FROM BEHIND WITH HER STRAP

"oh? your upset about them seeing us? so what? dont worry your pretty little head about trivial things like that dolly, i'll take care of everything for you~" *proceeds to fuck u until ur babbling and no more worried are forming in ur head*

into sensory play as well

ur tied down and blindfolded and she will blot hot air against ur cunt/cock, run an ice cube up and down ur thighs, leave hickeys or kisses on ur thighs, trace a feather around ur chest and trail it down ur abdomen, just above where u want her, so close but so, so far...

perhaps she has a mommy kink, but it would take a little while to discover it 👀

wears lingerie on a regular basis and will strip in front of u at the end of the day leaving u in flustered in shock she loves seeing u all flushed and embarrassed omg

tease teas tease sOO UNFAIR

WILL TEASE U FOR DAYS ON END JUST TO GET U TO SUBMIT

OVERALL THE PERFECTEST AND HOTTEST LOVER U CAN EVER IMAGINE

hi guys cant believe i just wrote this anyways can u tell i have a preference LMFAOO shes just so cool <3 i might have a type *side eyes kindael, kafka, rosaria, and all the other pink/red associated women who r also fucking insane that i simp for* sorry i havent been super active lately, i prob wont be for a little while im going on vacation. however, reqs are still open i am BEGGING for reqs lmao😭 hope u enjoyed! lmk of any errors/gendering issues, hope u enjoyed

[fredwkong]

Virgo Season: Rod

Rod finally closed the door to his hotel room behind him, and took a moment to lean against it, letting out a long sigh.

The first few days at the Astra had already been grueling. Even with the mysterious disappearance of Pastor Blanco’s son the night before the conference had begun, the man had refused to slow the pace of the event. Outside the conference hall, between lectures, discussions, and short sermons, Rod had seen the pastor talking rapidly on the phone, presumably with law enforcement or his family, still trying to find his son.

Rod wasn’t too bothered about whatever drama had played out with Shane Blanco. Bad things happened to people who sinned, and Rod was no sinner, so he was definitely safe. Ever since being invited to Pastor Blanco’s conference, Rod had been thanking God for the opportunity to attend such a prestigious event. It was some of the best affirmation he’d received so far that his weekly podcast about political developments on the right was moving in the Right Direction, just like its title.

However, Rod hadn’t been fully prepared for the punishing pace at which things happened at Adam Blanco’s events. He’d been shocked to see a schedule stretching across two different months, and was grateful in retrospect that he’d only been able to get a week off of his regular job—business administration—to attend the first few days. Clearly, Pastor Blanco had filled every second of the month he was at the Astra.

Still, being around so many powerful people Rod admired was… exciting. Rod had done a whole episode about one of the regional politicians he’d sat next to at breakfast today, and yesterday he’d attended a talk by an influential TV host he’d watched for years. All of these men were powerful, mature, and worthy of Rod’s admiration.

The thought of one day joining the upper echelons of these influential men got Rod hard.

Of course, as a good Christian, Rod was used to pushing down sinful desire. For a red-blooded straight man like him, it had become second nature by thirty to bite back the things he wanted to say to the women around him. He kept those things to his revolving carousel of short-term girlfriends. But something about the Astra Hotel seemed to be bringing it all to the forefront of his mind. It was like there was some energy drifting through the halls, an electricity connecting man to man in some way that brought Rod’s dick to life.

Not that there was anything gay about it! It was just the power, the influence that some of these men had. They could do anything they wanted without consequence. What could be hotter?

To distract himself from the boner slowly growing in his suit pants, Rod started organising his hotel room. He was over halfway through his stay at the Astra, and his stuff had spread from his suitcase throughout the room. He picked up socks off the carpeted floor, found a pair of boxers behind the bedside table, and tidied up his toiletries in the bathroom. Still, he stayed insistently horny.

Finally, Rod ended up on all fours, looking through the pile of dirty business clothes he’d been putting on the floor of the closet. Yeah, some of his girlfriends called him a slob, but what was the point of neatly folding up shit he was gonna get drycleaned anyway? Well, fitting it back in a suitcase, for one. Grumpily, Rod started to sort and fold the dirty clothes.

He picked up a button up shirt and was suddenly assaulted by an overwhelming stench. The smell of stale sweat and body odour filled the air as Rod uncovered… something at the bottom of the closet. It wasn’t his, and he was sure it hadn’t been there when he’d thrown this shirt down on the closet floor.

His first instinct was to recoil and call the front desk. Someone must have snuck into his room and left this… thing here. But just as he was about to stand up and hurry away, he took a second breath. It wasn’t like this was that urgent, he thought. He was perfectly capable of tossing this in the garbage and getting it taken out by housekeeping later. He leaned back into the closet.

The scent became thicker, enough to make Rod’s eyes water. The thing on the floor of his closet was throwing off a scent like a high school locker room, rich, tangy, and masculine. It was enough to make Rod’s eyes water, and brought to mind things he thought he had left behind. Careful to breathe through his mouth, he grabbed it with two fingertips and lifted.

What emerged from the closet was an incomprehensible pile of straps, rings, and buckles, all crisp with male sweat. Looking at it, Rod had the sudden mental image of a man bound up in straps, like some of those queers at their filthy parades. Bare muscles, accented with tight black and red polyester and nothing else.

Why did that thought get him even harder?

It was the masculinity, Rod decided. He’d been thinking about being a powerful, mature, influential man like the others at the conference. That was virtuous power. This was a temptation of its sinful equivalent, a masculinity only of the body, while the mind became feminised by gayness. Rather than do good, masculine things like… like sit in boardrooms and wear suits, the man who’d sweat in this had been doing sinful activities like showing off his body and having athletic, sweaty sex with other masculine, musky men…

Rod’s cock was straining against his fly.

The straps were so close to his face. He had moved them without fully noticing. They were everywhere around him, filling his awareness with the scent of a real man.

With a moan, Rod undid his belt and popped the button on his pants. He would punish himself for this tomorrow, just like he had when he had touched himself as a teenager. Repressed memories of smelling his own armpits after gym class, of imagining the smell of the people around him, rushed to the forefront of Rod’s mind as his cock fell out of his boxers.

Since his sexual awakening, Rod had been fascinated by scents, though he had never admitted it to himself. Now, it was all flooding out as he groaned, collapsing backwards onto the hotel bed with the slutty strappy outfit on his face. He needed to consume more of its unwashed man-smell.

As soon as the fabric touched the skin of his face, it came to life. First, a strap slung itself around the back of Rod’s head, binding the mass to his nose and mouth. Caught up in his imagination of being held down in the unwashed armpit of a real, powerful man, Rod didn’t notice as more straps began to stretch down his neck and across his body.

Wherever the straps touched the fabric of Rod’s shirt, the shirt evaporated with a sizzle, letting off the scent of acrid sweat and leaving Rod’s skin tight, hairless, and slick with sweat as the straps wrapped around his shoulders and down his arms. Slowly at first, and then with greater speed as Rod stroked himself faster, panting, the rest of his shirt also dissolved, revealing his soft torso. In spite of constantly yelling at his podcast's fans to get in the gym and become battle-ready men, Rod hadn’t so much as walked to the grocery store in months.

With each strap that wrapped around his torso, they pulled tighter, drawing a groan from Rod’s throat. As they continued to tighten, fat and muscle redistributed under the pressure, and Rod’s pecs, shoulders, and arms pumped larger and thicker as his waist slimmed down. With less of a mass of straps to hold to his face as they spread across his body, Rod brought his free hand down to feel up his new muscles, tweaking sensitive, pale nipples. Meanwhile, whatever was over his face started to thicken and solidify, covering Rod’s mouth and nose like a mask, making him huff it harder, getting a thicker, richer scent from the sturdier, more porous material.

When the first strap shot around Rod’s ass and between his legs to cup his balls, his only reaction was to obligingly spread his legs. As his ass rounded out beneath him, the straps around his waist joined and thickened, becoming a waistband that pinched his remaining body fat just right, making his ass look juicy and squeezable. O-rings carried the straps down his thighs, dissolving his suit pants with a hiss, and giving Rod thicker thighs than any straight man had a right to.

As his cock got even harder and began to leak onto his slutty new outfit, Rod all but welcomed the magic into his mind. He didn’t have much of a choice, as the air he breathed in passed through the magic-infused mask that stank just like Rod wanted. Sweat stood out on his forehead as Rod’s former interests and sexuality dissolved. Audio editing, reading reactionary news sites, trolling on Twitter, picking up church girls, all boiled off by the acrid stench of sweat and musk.

His old self filled his body with heat, expelled through overproductive sweat glands in Rod’s armpits and crotch that spread his growing musk into the air. His sense of “himself,” as an individuated person, began to dissolve. He knew that other people saw a “him,” a “person” with the name “Rod,” but “Rod” felt less and less like “him.” In place of an individual, there was a cock, a hole, an unwashed, sexy body, ready to show off and follow orders. For legal reasons, this cock, hole, body had a name, pronouns, and paperwork, but those were external to its central purpose: pleasure.

All it wanted to do now was indulge in its core desires for sweat and musk, cum as many times as possible, and have a stronger, better man do all the thinking.

At the thought, its cock, now a separate entity not bound to itself, came, shooting so hard that cum got in its eye. With each shot, more of the belongings that had been “Rod’s” transformed. In the place of fancy loafers were a pair of musky sneakers. In the place of suits and shirts, different variations on its straps and mask, or spike-studded leather pants and jackets. No more laptop, just a video camera for shooting scenes where it strapped gross, musky sneakers around its face for online fans.

It immediately passed out.

When it woke up, the sky was dark outside the window. The crotch of its outfit had closed, shielding its straining cock for now. It rolled out of bed and padded to the bathroom, switching on the light.

Pale, beautiful, shining muscles stretched under the polyester straps that lifted and accented every single curve of its body. With its buzzcut combined with the mask covering its face below the eyes, it was impossible to single out defining features of its face, just as things should be. It had no individual identity except as a cock, hole, and a sexy, musky body. Someday, a manlier, hairier, muskier man would probably enslave it and give it a designation, but until then it went by its former designation for convenience.

“Hi, I’m Rod,” it said, muffled through the mask, the name strange on its tongue.

Tonight, it would need to leave the Astra Hotel to find a partner willing to let it smell his superior musk, but it somehow had a feeling that it should come back to the Astra soon. There was a taste of potential in the air, deeper than the musk. After all, it had been transformed into something so much better, so much freer, and all it could wish was for the other attendees at the conference to find the same freedom.

Click here to see all of Virgo Season.

If you feel inspired, write a story set at the Astra Hotel and post it @ me to join in. Help me celebrate my birthday by turning more conference attendees into geared up gay kinksters.

[braidlottie]

SPARE THE ROD, SPOIL THE CHILD.

summary: lottie gives you a treatment for you to do around the compound but you refuse, causing her to come up with a “treatment” of her own.

tags: spanking, mean!lottie, brat!reader (nice after lottie smacks some sense into them) a little aftercare, reader calls lottie “charlotte”

wc: 685

you were getting ready for bed when you heard a knock on your door. with your toothbrush in hand, you looked through the peephole to see the tall woman, waiting for you to answer. you opened it to see charlotte, a faint smile on her face.

“yeah?” you asked harshly. you hoped you went the whole day without seeing her after she gave you a treatment session you didn’t even show up to. “i wanted to talk to you,” she lets herself in, “todd told me you didn’t arrive at the barn today.”

you snickered to yourself, crossing your arms. “well, why would i?”

her smile dropped and so did your stomach. you knew a woman like charlotte had a limit, but you decided to open your mouth again.

“i’m not gonna waste my time looking after a pig that smells like piss and shit all day! isn’t that your followers’ fucking jobs anyway?!”

the older woman’s eyebrow rose, walking over to you. you swallowed, clenching your jaw as she locked the cabin door.

“w-what are you doing?”

“teaching you a lesson. drop your pants and get on the bed, please.”

is she serious?

“what?! you’re gonna spank me, really?” she said it so unexpectedly too, you were pretty sure you flinched.

she said nothing but give you a somewhat serious look.

“i’m too old for that.” you leaned against the doorframe. “apparently not, you’re acting like a child right now. you have an attitude, y/n, and it’s got to stop now, do you hear me?” she bends you over the bed, pulling your pants and underwear down to your ankles, the cold breeze of the air conditioned room making you shudder.

“okay wait, wait, i’m sorry-“ you begged, but she just hushed you instead.

“why am i doing this, sweetheart?” you felt her cold hand on your bottom.

“charlotte, please, you don’t have to do this-”

“well it’s too late for that now isn’t it. now.. why am i about to spank you right now, y/n?”

“i-i didn’t show up for my treatment.”

“and why didn’t you do what i asked you to?”

“because, i was- i was- i didn’t w-want to.”

“there you go, are you ready to begin?”

you nodded and whimpered when you felt the first smack. she sped up all of a sudden, taking you by surprise.

“shit, oww charlotte!” you practically screamed into the dead of night. charlotte held your wrists behind you tightly, whispering closet to your ear. you could feel her breath tickling the hairs on your neck. “i don’t want to hear a single word from you whilst i do this, got it? i’ve had enough of you today.”

tears burned in your eyes, the lottie that you talked to earlier today was gone. you wiped your teary eyes on your comforter, wishing that you would’ve done what you were told.

she continued to spank you, making sure you feel every single blow. the pain was almost unbearable now, you were pretty sure welts would form from her rings.

she suddenly stopped, your wretched sobs filling the silent cabin. “l-leave me alone.” you sobbed, never feeling this humiliated ever.

“i’m not leaving you like this.” she sat on the bed next to you, trying to give you some aftercare. she rubbed your back, hushing your whimpers. you couldn’t see her, your head was still buried into the twin bed.

“‘m sorry for being mean.. to you.”

“that’s all in the past now, you’ve got a clean slate with me, alright?”

you nodded and pulled your pants up quickly, realizing you were still butt ass naked in front of this woman. charlotte looked into your bloodshot eyes as you tried to avoid hers.

“uhm, i think i’m gonna go to bed now.” you winced quietly as you sat up.

charlotte nodded, getting up to open the door. “make sure to put some cream on that. so it doesn’t bruise.” she smiled and shut the door behind her.

you sighed and rubbed your ass. you just knew the sleep you were gonna get tonight was gonna be amazing.

[sunlightmurdock]

hurt/comfort drabble with firefighter!bradley and neighbour!reader involving his EMT knowledge

this strayed from the prompt a bit, but I give you: the time you dislocated your shoulder in the shower !!

So Bradley’s just chilling at home, probably sitting on the couch in his underwear, probably watching reality TV that he will vehemently deny enjoying. And then he gets a call from you. He answers it with a mouth full of popcorn, expecting it to be you asking him to hang out again. Nothing out of the ordinary.

And then he hears the laboured breathing and running water on the other end of the line.

Then, comes your voice. “I need to ask you for a favour and you need to never tell anyone about this, ever. Okay?”

So, he’s walking into your apartment in shorts and a hoodie and snapping the lock on your bathroom door, which he already knows you’ll call him for help replacing.

“Don’t you dare look!” You yell at him from behind the curtain.

“I feel like grabbing blind is probably a worse idea than just letting me get you. What happened?” Bradley walks gingerly towards the curtain, brows furrowed together.

“I slipped.”

“Is something broken? — Can you warn me before I get jump scared with an ankle facing the wrong way or something?” Bradley complains, reaching around the curtain to turn the water off without looking. For the first time in twenty minutes, you’re not almost waterboarding yourself.

He looks around him and finds your towel. “Here, put this over you and I’ll pick you up.”

“I was hoping you’d be able to tell me if something’s broken.” You tell him, reaching around the curtain to take the towel and cover your naked body with it. You’re hoping to wake up from this disgustingly embarrassing dream any minute now and be back in the real world where you aren’t naked and injured in front of your stupidly hot neighbour. “My arm really hurts.”

He curses under his breath and leans his head back. Something in his gut already tells him that this is going to be above his fucking pay-grade. Why couldn’t you have just grazed your knee and let him put a cute little bandaid on you, or something?

“Alright. I’m gonna pull the curtain back now.”

“Okay.”

You close your eyes as the curtain drags along the rod, pulled back and exposing you to him. Huddled awkwardly at the bottom of your shower, your phone in your hand just out of the pray of the water.

“Oh, shit.”

Your eyes fly open, widening up at him — more importantly, the look on his face. He’s grimacing right at you.

“Is it bad?”

“It’s not broken,” He says gingerly. “Actually I’m not supposed to say that. It might be. It doesn’t look broken.”

You swallow, a shiver starting to set in now that you’re cold, wet and stuck against the floor. “What does it look like?”

“I’m not supposed to diagnose in the field.” He mumbles, still grimacing at your fucked up shoulder. He leans down and tucks his arms under your back and your knees, “C’mere.”

You gasp and wince as your afflicted shoulder presses into his chest. He becomes more confident in what he thinks you’ve done.

“Bradley, I’m not going to write to your boss. Just — what is it?”

“Can you, like, move it?” He asks as he carries you from the bathroom and into your bedroom. You know that saying no isn’t the right answer, but that if you say yes, he’ll ask you to prove it.

“No.”

“At all? Like, not even if you kinda tried?”

“You’re freaking me out.”

He sets you at the end of your bed softly, then turns away from you immediately to search through your closet. “Do you have anything without arms? — Like a poncho?”

“Wh— what? — Why? — Bradley, come on, you know first aid. Just, like, fix it.” You plead with him, using your good arm to keep your towel around you. He scoffs and continues to dig through your closet.

“I’m not popping your shoulder back into the socket. That is not the kind of thing that I’m supposed to do.” He finds a pair of comfortable shorts and tosses them in your direction and then continues searching again.

Your eyes widen. “It’s dislocated? — Fuck. Wait, no, I don’t want to go to the hospital. You used to play football, can’t you just like, try to fix it?”

“Absolutely the fuck not.” He almost shudders at the idea. “We’re gonna do this the right way for you, alright? — Make sure it actually heals right.”

He finds one of his shirts on your floor and tosses it in your direction. He leaves them here sometimes if he gets hot hanging out. It’s hard to argue with him when he phrases things like that.

“Bradley, stop throwing clothes at me. I can’t…”

He turns towards you again, pursing his lips. In that moment, you’re adamant of two things: he is not seeing you naked, and he is not taking you to the hospital. An hour later, you’re sitting in the emergency room in a mismatched outfit with both of those resolutions completely betrayed.

“You’re being really brave, honey,” Bradley smooths his fingers over your scalp softly as you rest your head against his annoyingly perfectly healthy, uninjured shoulder. “We won’t have to wait much longer.”

“You have to take this to your grave, Bradshaw. If you tell anyone about this—“

“Your secret’s safe with me,” He decides amusedly, resting his cheek against the top of your head. “But, uh… was that that a tattoo that I —“

“Shut up.”

[obxone]

Marmoris (Chapter Fourteen)

Edited-ish. ~2.1k words

WARNING: NSFW (do not read if you are underage)

Masterpage

You close the box you kept of keepsakes after tucking Kasey’s hoodie inside and slide it back into place on the bottom shelf of your closet. It stays hidden behind the clothes hanging on the lower rod for safekeeping. Your gaze flickers over the pile of laundry you had been procrastinating all afternoon, and you frown because you have done everything but that. A sharp knock on your closet door catches your attention, and you turn to see JJ leaning against the doorframe. His dimpled smile is present as his gaze runs the length of you. You smile at him, ignoring the sensation that flutters inside of you at the sight of him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, hands pressing to your stomach to quiet the onslaught of butterflies within.

He shrugs. “John B asked to see Sarah…”

“They are downstairs?” You ask, your gaze flickering over his shoulder before moving back to his face, and he nods. “Oh, wow.”

He shrugs. “I tagged along. Wanted to see my girl.”

You blush, looking at the floor beneath your bare feet. “Here I am.”

“And wearing my shirt…” He says, and you blush hotter as you realize you are in fact wearing his shirt.

“I sleep in it a lot.” You respond. “And it’s late… nearly bedtime.”

“I know. Where is everyone?”

“Rose and Ward are on a business trip in Raleigh. Rafe is probably at Kelce’s with Topper. And I think Wheezie had a sleepover.”

“Cool.”

“Yep,” you muse. “Just Sarah and I…”

The words you are speaking fade out as he pushes off the door and crosses the space to you. His lips find yours, and his hands grip your waist. You giggle into the kiss, appreciating his touch. He backs you up before lifting you onto the small dresser that occupies the far wall.

His body slots between your legs, and his tongue delves past your lips, stirring a moan from you while your fingers tangle in his shirt. The kiss ends, and he leans back to look at you, a pleased smile on his face.

“You look good in anything, but I think this outfit is my favorite,” he murmurs, his hands dragging up your calves to hook around your knees. You hum before pecking his lips and wrapping your arms around his neck.

Your lips brush the shell of his as you whisper. “What if I told you that is all I’m wearing…?”

JJ’s mouth falls open in shock, and you giggle before pecking his lips again.

“Your shirt and maybe a pair of white lacey panties… that is.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans and traces his hands higher up your legs. His palms searing hot against your thighs. He kisses you until his fingers brush your hip and the lacy band of your underwear. He ends the kiss to look down, his chest heaving as he catches sight of the exact outfit you promised. “You’re making it real hard to obey rule #4.”

You laugh, cupping his face before pecking his lips. “Let me down?”

“Hell no, Princess,” he mutters before chasing your lips for more. “I have you right where I want you.”

You bite your lip as you lean away from his eager mouth. “I was thinking… my bed is out there…”

JJ’s head whips around to look out of the closet door to your unmade bed before he turns back to you. “Come on, Baby.” He scoops you up and carries you towards the bed as you cling to him. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist until he drops you into the bed and climbs over you.

“The door,” you moan as his lips attach to the curve of your neck, and his hand touches your waist under the t-shirt.

“Locked it already.”

You laugh, “JJ!”

He shrugs. “I wanted time with my girlfriend… alone.”

You smile at him before pulling his mouth back to yours as he nestles between your legs. Your hands slide down his back to his shirt’s hem before you tug, and he understands. He leans up to pull it off before falling back into you.

“If I say stop, we stop, okay?” You ask, your voice trembling. “Promise me?” You ask as you trace the bow of his lips with your fingertip.

“I promise.” He rushes out before kissing you again.

Your fingers hook around the shark tooth necklace dangling from his neck to keep him closer to you. His hands are greedy as they move to bunch your shirt up. He removes it, and you blush when he leans back to take you in. Your body is on display other than the white lace, which he brushes his fingers over, and he bites his lip when he feels how wet you are. His eyes flicker up to yours, and you give him a quick nod before he wraps his fingers around the band and tugs. He flings them away across the room, and you giggle before turning your attention back to his face.

His expression shifts, and you bite your lip as he watches you. His hands brush up and down your thighs.

“Jay?”

“Have you ever… been…um,” he clears his throat. “Has anyone ever gone down on you?”

You shake your head, embarrassment flooding you. “No. I never felt comfortable with it.”

He nods, swallowing before looking up at your face. His gaze locks on yours, and you know he wants to as he brushes his thumb over your hip bone. “Can I?”

You inhale sharply, your body aching for you to say yes as your thoughts race at the idea.

“I bet you taste amazing.”

Heat blooms across your chest, neck, and face before you hook your fingers with his. “Yes, JJ.”

He grins before pecking your lips. Your body trembles in anticipation as you watch him move lower, his mouth trailing over you inch by inch. He stops to layer kisses across your breast before moving lower. Your breath hitches when he gets to where he wants to be most. His hand stays clasped with yours against your hip while the other cups the back of your knee to spread you further.

The insecure part of you wants to push him away and cover yourself, but the newer, braver you watch him as he lowers his face between your legs. Soft, sweet kisses littered across the inside of your thighs until he presses a kiss against you. Your fingers tighten around his, and the other touches his forehead to push his hair back. His eyes lock on yours as he moves in. His mouth covers you as he flicks his tongue over your clit. Your mouth parts and a quiet groan leaves you.

He takes it as the green light as he begins to devour you. Your legs slide over his shoulders as he takes you like a starved man. His groans of pleasure spur you closer to the edge blindingly fast.

You moan his name, your back arching when he sinks two fingers into you. His fingers work in unison with his tongue. Your nails rake over his upper back, and he releases your hand to wrap his arm around your thigh and pull you down onto his mouth.

“Fuck!” You cry out as he finds the spot deep inside of you after he hooks his fingers. “Oh, God! JJ!”

He smirks but makes no move to let you go. Your hands touch him as you beg for more until the band that is pulled so taunt inside of you snaps. But he does not stop until you are shoving at his shoulders, begging him to be done as the oversensitivity sets in. He moves up your body and kisses you. You kiss him back, aware of the taste of you on his tongue still as he presses his hardened length against you. You shudder and end the kiss to stare at him.

“We can stop, it’s okay,” he reassures you. His fingers brush the sweat-dampened hair back from your forehead. “I don’t mind.”

You stare at him in surprise, and he shrugs.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time.”

You blush before nuzzling your face against his. “Promise it is okay?”

“I promise, Baby,” he reassures you while tugging your comforter around you both. You close your eyes, and your body trembles with the aftershocks. You did not want to be done, in truth. You want to drag that same reaction out of him.

“That was…” you fight for the right word, and he laughs before pecking your lips.

“I know.”

“Stay tonight?” You ask gently, afraid he will say no.

He grins before kissing you and glancing at the clock on your nightstand. It was nearing midnight, and John B had not knocked on the door yet to go home. “I don’t plan to go anywhere else.”

You smile before your hand unbuttons his shorts. He looks down to watch you as you pull the zipper on his cargo shorts down.

“Take them off,” you murmur and look up at him. He makes quick work of removing them before settling back down on his side to face you. Your hand cups his face, and you kiss him before trailing your hand down his chest to the band of his boxers.

“Baby, you don’t…”

“Let me,” you urge as your hand moves his boxers down enough to free him. You bite your lip when you look down and see how thick and long he is. “Jay…”

He chuckles, hand brushing your thigh as he slides a little closer to you. “I’m okay, Baby, really…”

“Shh!” You shush him before pecking his lips. You wrap your hand around his length, feeling the weight of him in your hand again. “Lay on your back,” you instruct, and he does as you wish. You nestle against his side. His hand is still on your thigh as you brush your leg against his. You start at the tip and stroke your hand down to the base before moving up, your grip perfect as his mouth falls open.

He hisses, his head dropping as he watches you stroke your hand up and down his length. He is warm and large in your palm. The skin feels soft to the touch as you stroke him repeatedly. His breathing shallows as his hand digs into your thigh, and the other fists the comforter.

“JJ,” you hum, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “You feel so good.”

“Fuck, Princess!” He groans, squeezing his eyes shut. His head falls back against the mattress as you move your hand a little faster.

“Is this okay?” You ask. He bobs his head quickly, his hand moving up to your waist as you shift beside him.

He jolts when he feels the press of your lips to his hip, and his eyes shoot open. “No, Baby.”

“JJ,” you warn before pressing a kiss to his hip again and tossing his boxers to the floor. “I’m in charge, remember?”

“Holy fuck!”

You laugh before pressing your lips to his tip. His eyes widen, and he watches you slowly slip him into your mouth. You take him inch by inch until you cannot anymore, and your hand works over the base of him.

“I’m so close, Princess, so fucking close.”

You smile before you begin to bob your head. His hands fist the sheets as you take him as deep as you can before slowly dragging him out. Your tongue strokes the underside of his cock. You suck his tip, tasting the salty precum before you take him back deeper.

His hand finds your head, and he lifts himself onto one elbow to watch you take his dick into your mouth and to the back of your throat with much more ease than he anticipated. You had done this before, and he counted his stars he was the one getting it right then.

 You continue to bob your head, your gaze locked on his, and your hand works over the base of him until he cries out and comes inside your mouth. He spurts down your throat, and you swallow every drop before releasing him. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he falls back against the bed.

You wipe your mouth before moving up to lie beside him. “So… are you glad you stayed?”

He laughs, and you join in before he tugs you against his. Your naked bodies tangle together as you kiss until you request a shower. JJ sends a text to John B that he is staying before you shower together and curl up in your bed together.

(Chapter Fifteen)

[copperbadge]

[ID: Two images; top image is two boxes of coat hangers sitting on a chair, one holding plastic hangers and one holding cedar ones. Bottom image is the rod of my shower curtain, holding all the hangers I was able to replace; there are wire hangers, elderly bent plastic hangers, and cheap department-store clothes hangers.]

SOMEONE'S GONNA HANG FOR THIS!

Does it take forty minutes to replace thirty clothes hangers in a closet? Very nearly! I was tired of scavenging for clothes hangers every time I did laundry, and I wanted to replace a bunch anyway, so I bought fifty notched plastic hangers and ten cedar hangers, and this morning I got busy.

The cedar is because while I think I have finally conquered the moth issue, if I haven't there are a few articles I want to keep them away from; the plastic hangers just replaced every other hanger I didn't like. And I had roughly 20 hangers left over, so I now have plenty of spares. The once I replaced are in a box, and I'll take them down to the laundry room later and put them out with a FREE HANGERS sign, which I've done before with great success.

I had about five minutes left on the podcast (The Worst Idea Of All Time's latest) so I grabbed some sandpaper and sanded all the spots I spackled last week, then hit a few places I missed last time with spackle. I have paint rollers but I need to buy trays and a brush before I paint, but I think I'll reserve that for later. Next up for me is going to be some minor kitchen cleaning, after which I really don't think I can avoid going to Container Store any longer. I just need a lot of containers. One thing on my list is to organize my tupperware, so I need a container for all my containers.

Life is truly a series of containers.

[michelle-is-writing]

The Dress, Ben Hardy

Word Count: 3k~

Fashion has always been something I enjoyed. My fiancé, who has a good fashion sense himself, always lets me dress him any chance I get. Even when he goes to significant events like big award shows, my decision-making with clothes is still requested without fail every time.

"(Y/n), can you help me pick out my suit?"

"(Y/n), what shoes would be best?"

"(Y/n), which outfit should I wear?"

And with a smile, each time, I would respond happily.

"Of course, Ben."

Yet, every time I dress him, he somehow convinces me into dressing up as well before heading out into the scene with his arm wrapped tightly around my waist as my head rests on his chest. I enjoy dressing up Ben, and he seems to enjoy watching me get dressed up as well.

Tonight is no different, except the event is much smaller than the usual events we go to. This time, it's just a simple get-together for Ben and his cast members from Bohemian Rhapsody. Just as five rolled around, two hours before the dinner, Ben asks the question I got used to hearing after two years of being together.

"(Y/n), would you mind helping me?" I hear Ben ask, his head peering around the corner as his blonde locks fall against his forehead. From the living room couch, I smile and stand up before heading over to him as he explains. "I can't decide what to wear."

"I'd love to help you, love," I assure him, kissing his cheek. I watch his lips turn up into a sweet smile before I walk into our bedroom, his footsteps following behind mine. Looking into our closet, I quickly pluck out the set of clothes I like. The outfit is casual, but it's one of my favorites. The pants hug his legs just enough to accentuate his muscles, and I can't help but love them.

Handing Ben the black button-up top with beige pants, I pick out his brown oxfords and sit down on the bed with them beside me. With a smile, Ben clambers into the beige pants, eliciting a small laugh from me. "I can't help that I'm a bit clumsy!" He points out, making me laugh even more.

"At least you recognize it," I joke, watching his slightly red cheeks dim down to a pink hue. I watch as he moves onto his shirt, sliding the arms on and straightening it out before beginning to button it. Before his fingers reach the second bottom-button, I stop him.

"Come here." I tell him, moving to stand on my knees on the bed to meet his height. Despite this, he still manages to tower over me by a few inches, making him smile.

Brushing Ben's hands away from the shirt, I begin buttoning it myself before moving onto roll up the dark sleeves. I finish the left one without a problem and switch over to the right one, my hands brushing against his skin each time I do so. Like the other arm, I stop at the middle of his bicep just as Ben leans forward and plants his lips against mine, therefore preventing me from doing anything else.

Giggling, I move my hands from his arm and up to his face as I kiss back at his eager lips. "Mmm, Ben," I say his name, only to be interrupted by another kiss. "I have," another kiss. "to get," another one. "ready too."

Finally listening to me, he pulls back with a smirk and plops down next to me on the bed, watching me as I stand to go into the closet. "Wear the (f/c) dress," I hear him say from the bed.

"Which one?" I ask, popping my head out of the closet. I soon find myself biting my lip as I gaze at Ben as he rests back against the bed, using his elbows to hold himself up while his legs spread out against the edge of the mattress. Right now, he looks comfortable while, at the same time, utterly delectable.

"My favorite," He simply answers, smirking at his own coyness. Shaking my head with a small laugh, I move to my side of the closet and find the dress he's talking about. Pulling the hanger from the metal rod, I hold it out to look at it and see if there's anything wrong with it. Thankfully, it's still the same (f/c) dress that Ben loves. It could be the neckline of it that makes Ben like it so much, or it could also be the soft, velvety material that it's made out of. Or, maybe, it's because the dress hugs me in all of the right spots, and Ben just can't help himself after a long night of unintentional teasing.

Pulling my clothes off and slipping on the dress, I slide into some black pumps before walking back into the bedroom, earning a wolf-whistle from the man I love. The action causes me to smile and roll my eyes, knowing I'm probably going to have to deal with his hands on me for the rest of the night. "There's my sexy fiancé," Ben announces before standing from the bed and walking over to me.

Almost immediately, his hands find their way to my fabric covered hips while his lips lower down to mine. "Uh-uh," I tell him, placing my hand on his chest. "I still have to do my makeup and hair, and I know that if I don't do it now, we will be late."

"But, babe!" Ben exclaims, his arms pulling me closer to him. "You don't need makeup!" He tells me with a smile, causing me to blush.

"But don't you like that lipstick that I always put on with the dress?" I ask Ben, watching him fight the urge to let me go until he finally, but begrudgingly, releases his hold on me.

"Alright, fine," He gives in, stepping back while dramatically hanging his head low. "But I'll be waiting!" He exclaims, popping his head back up with a contagious smile. "Patiently..." He bids, slowly walking backward out of the bedroom with his hand waving up and down.

Once again, I smile and roll my eyes with a shake of the head at his goofiness before heading into the bathroom and finish getting ready. I do my makeup and hair the way I usually do, prompting Ben once again to pull me close to him when I walk into the living room. Thankfully, it only takes fifteen minutes for Ben to temporally satisfy his urge to kiss me, making me glad that my lipstick is smudge-proof.

It only takes a few minutes to arrive at the restaurant, quickly finding Rami and Lucy already seated in a booth. "Did we make you guys wait?" I ask, sliding into the empty side of the booth before Ben so he can sit in front of Rami.

"No, not at all, lovelies," Lucy assures us, both she and Rami giving us bright and happy smiles. "We just got here, actually," She assures me, nodding her head once. "Somebody wanted to kiss me and then not stop when we were getting ready."

At her words, Rami looks down with a dark blush painting his cheeks and a smile that practically shouts "not sorry" taking over his lips. I giggle at her words before looking over at an innocent-looking Ben and giving him a small smirk. "Sounds like someone I know too!" I chide, watching as he gains the same look on his face as Rami's. Both of our guys are so alike, and I can't help but love it.

Conversations between us all come and go as we get our drinks and dinner, having a great time as we all joke around and share stories with one another. Once we finish our meals, we don't head out, and instead, Ben heads over to the bar to fetch him and Rami a pint. Choosing to stay at the booth with Rami and Lucy as they talk to each other, I stare at the love of my life while he talks with the bartender. A few seconds pass before a cute blonde moves to stand beside him and speak up, making my smile turn into a frown as I continue staring.

I trust Ben and all, but that doesn't mean that I'm not bothered by the flirtatious look the woman's giving him or the fact that he's talking to her as if he doesn't notice this. With the way she keeps throwing her hand, I can tell she's flirting, and if I weren't mistaken, the smile on his face shows that he doesn't mind it. Ben knows I can see him, so why is he doing this in plain view?

I hate to admit it, but as I watch it all go down, I feel my self-esteem lower as well. The blonde woman is beautiful, to simply put it. She could get anyone in this bar, and yet, she's trying to get the man that's mine - the man I love. Now that I think about it, Ben could get anyone in this entire world, but he chose me... why?

"Miss?" I hear a voice speak up to the right of me, causing me to look over and see the waiter standing at the end of our table with a small smile. "Did you hear me?"

With a flustered smile, I wave my hand with a shake of my head. "I'm sorry, I didn't," I tell him, blushing with embarrassment. "I wasn't paying attention," I explain. I was too busy staring at Ben and the girl at the bar that I didn't even hear the poor man ask me a question.

"It's alright," The man assures me with a polite nod and smile. "Can I get you anything, hon'?" At his question, I shake my head and thank him before he walks away. Only a couple of seconds pass before I see Ben in the corner of my eye returning with two glasses in his hands, handing one to Rami before sitting beside me. His eyes don't meet mine, and for some reason, he looks almost mad. Going by the fact that the woman back there was blatantly flirting with him and he didn't stop her, I can't help but grow a little upset as well, except my annoyance is for a reason.

Thirty minutes pass before we're all standing from the booth and bidding happy goodbyes before heading to our cars. Thankfully, Lucy and Rami didn't seem to notice me and Ben not speaking to each other, which is good since I wouldn't have known what to say. Meanwhile, Ben hasn't even spared a glance at me once and has chosen to practically ignore me with dull hums as answers to my questions. The ever-growing silence and distant attitude from Ben only further my frustration, and despite trying to pass it off and forget about it, Ben's not letting me by not responding to me.

Once we reach our home, I park the car and turn it off before we head out of the car and into the house, wordlessly. When we walk in, Frankie remains in her bed, feeling the apparent tension between her two owners as our footsteps sound a bit heavier and stiffer than usual. Walking past the couch, I toss my purse onto the plush seat and head straight to the bedroom. Surprisingly, Ben follows me, only stopping in his stride when I do so.

Turning around, I look at his flustered form and grow confused. His cheeks are red and puffy, almost as if he were huffing like a child, and his blond eyebrows are furrowed together in what seems to be aggravation. Not to mention his arms are crossed against his chest, causing the rolled sleeves of his shirt to stretch against his biceps as he taps his foot against the carpet soundlessly, almost like he's waiting for me to speak up, and so, I do.

"What is your problem?" I ask him, trying to sound as calm as ever, but unfortunately, a few hints of malice come out, making Ben let out an angered sigh.

"Oh, I don't know," He answers, shrugging his shoulders dramatically while shaking his head, his eyes squinted. "Other than the fact that you and the waiter were flirting when I left the table for a few seconds, I don't know what could ever be the problem!"

His words take me by shock. The waiter and I barely exchanged ten words - and none of them were even remotely flirtatious. I guess the term "hon'" could be considered flirty, but the guy seemed like he was just doing his job and being a nice person at the same time. Why is Ben getting so upset over this?

"We were not flirting!" I defend myself, my lips parted in utter disbelief. Ben barely listens to my words before speaking up once more.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention!" He imitates me from earlier in a high pitched voice while impersonating what could be considered a troubled and overly dramatic version of me.

"Oh, it's not a problem doll-face," This time, his voice seeps with venom in a raspier and less-deep tone than his usual voice. He must be impersonating the waiter.

Despite Ben using the wrong term, I still find myself shaking my head at his childish antics before shooting back. "Oh, so you were jealous of the damn waiter for merely talking to me whenever you were over by the bar, flirting back and forth with some chick while I was waiting for you!" I point out, crossing my arms before throwing my hand in front of me in a questioning manner. His face then plays the same shocked and almost confused reaction like mine does, making me scoff. "Wow, Ben, I can totally understand your reasoning."

"We weren't flirting back and forth!" He argues as if he were offended. His reddened cheeks puff in exasperation while he uncrosses his arms. "She told me she was a big fan of my work, and I thanked her!"

"Ben, she was staring at you with 'fuck me' eyes!" I sadly exclaim, throwing my hands up in an exasperated motion as tears fill my eyes. His face seems to soften at my sudden mood change. "And I didn't want to face the fact that I was jealous, but then, I started thinking about how easily I could lose you to any other woman that might come around and be better than me in every way," I slowly confess, turning my eyes to the floor beneath my feet. Ben then moves closer, wrapping his arms around me and gently pulling me close to him. Despite being so pissed at him, I feel my instincts take over as I nuzzle my head closer to his chest and slowly wrap my arms around his middle.

"And it hurt. So, yeah, I got lost in my own little world with my insecurities, and then the waiter came up, and I didn't hear him talking to me," Looking up at him, I stare into his green eyes as they stare down at me, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "I swear, Ben, I wasn't flirting with him-" Ben cuts me off.

"I know, I know, baby," Ben assures me, one of his hands rising from my waist to run his thumb over my cheek. "And, I swear, I wasn't flirting with that girl either," He promises me. "She was in my way of getting back to the table and then she started talking, and despite trying to get past her, the only way I got her to move over was whenever I smiled and thanked her over and over again. You are the only woman for me, for the rest of my life, and the only one I will ever need or want," He promises, staring down into my eyes with the utmost honesty just before he lets out a sigh. "When I walked closer and saw the waiter looking you up and down..." Ben goes on to explain, shaking his head and closing his eyes. "I hate to admit it, but I wanted to beat the living-shit out of that guy."

At his words, I giggle and stand on the tips of my toes to press my lips against Ben's soft ones. Instantly, he kisses me back as his hand on my cheek grows firmer and his arm around me pulls me closer, giving us no space between our bodies - just the way we like it.

After a few seconds of passionate kissing, we pull away, leaving us both breathless as his thumb slides up to brush over my now swollen bottom lip. "How were you able to tell that the woman was staring at me with 'fuck me' eyes from so far away?" He asks, his voice clouded with an almost cocky tone.

"Because I've been looking at you with the same gaze for the past two hours," I explain, watching a smirk make its way onto Ben's lips. Soon enough, I find myself being playfully tossed onto the bed while Ben makes his way down my body, lightly nipping at my thighs as he pushes the bottom of my dress upward, his hands lingering on my bottom as he does so.

"I don't know how I've been able to keep my hands off you this entire night," Ben confesses, "And, I have to admit," he starts, his green eyes peering over the bunched-up fabric of my dress. "even though I love this dress, I feel like ripping it off right now," He mutters, making me laugh. Despite his current animalistic feelings, I know he could never rip one of his favorite dresses of mine - he loves to see me in it too much.

[softsweetwhispers]

The closet is colder than I would’ve expected and when I hear the air kick on, goosebumps race each other across my arm. I shiver, tighten my arm’s grip around my knees, and curl impossibly further into myself. The gash on my forearm burns and my legs protest against me, but I only relish in the pain.

I wish I had a blanket, but there’s nothing I can do about it; I can’t leave, because he’s waiting out there, plopped onto the recliner sitting in front of the television, beer in one hand and cigarette in the other. I can hear the muffled sound of background music and people talking, the only company I have.

I’m not sure what time it is. There’s no clocks, no windows. Actually, there’s no anything — the closet is small enough for me to reach out my arm and touch all four walls, and was emptied out years ago after Mom left. The only thing that remains is the curtain rod that just barely brushes against my head when I sit up straight. The position forces my neck to be bent at an odd angle, but I don’t mind. I’ve been through worse.

For a second, I think I hear something out there — his heavy footsteps, or his low growl, or his obtrusive slamming — but I immediately shake the thought off. It’s impossible. This is my safe place, the only place in the house where it’s ensured he won’t come after me. If I tuck myself away in here first, I don’t have to worry about how hard he’ll throw me in. As long as I stay out of sight, out of earshot, out of mind, I’ll survive.

The thought of fighting back enters my mind with the traitorous taunting of hope. Even if I were brave enough, there’s no way I would win. I’ve tried before. My presence is as insignificant as the gum on the bottom of his shoe; he picks me up and throws me to the ground without a second thought. It’s better for me to stay put. It always is. 

Just until I’m eighteen. Just until I’m eighteen. The mantra repeats itself even before I know I’ve thought it. I’ve treaded these unstable waters before. As dangerous as they were, they were also familiar. All I had to do was ride the waves out. I can last longer than him. That, at least, I can do. I owed it to Mom. I owed it to myself.  @nosebleedclub prompts, april xi. “safe” place

[ncspaint]

10 Ways To Make Your Home More Accessible

Your home should make you feel safe and at ease. If you or a family member has a physical disability, your home may require modifications to make it safe and accessible. Making your home accessible does not have to be an expensive endeavor, though depending on what you need to accomplish, it may be.

Here are some great ways to add more accessibility to your home, whether you are adding accommodations for the short or long term.

Let’s take a look at some home improvements that will make your home more accessible.

1.Consider Furniture Positioning

Individuals who use mobility aids such as wheelchairs and walkers require plenty of space. Rearranging furniture is one of the quickest ways to make your home more accessible. A 5-foot turn radius is ideal so that people using mobility aids can move freely without running into obstacles.

Make a path of at least two feet between furniture pieces, which is the industry standard.

2.Ramps should be used instead of steps.

There are five types of accessibility ramps available for purchase or construction:

Threshold: This small but effective bridge helps bridge elevation differences of up to 6 inches between the outside and inside of a home. Portable/folding: A fantastic short-term option that allows you to have a ramp without having to install one; available in bi-fold or tri-fold configurations. Suitcase: A portable ramp that folds up like a suitcase; it is also lightweight and portable. Permanent: The most common type of installable ramp, usually made of metal or wood; usually requires a permit and professional installation; permanently customizable to a user’s long-term needs. Modular: Designed to fit into unusual or unique spaces, modular products come in multiple customizable parts and do not require assembly.

Installing a ramp in place of steps on a home costs between $1,100 and $3,500, or $2,000 on average. While Medicare may not cover these costs, there are programs that can help you find out how to get funding for accommodations. Visit the AARP website and The National Rehabilitation Information Center.

3.Set up handrails and grab bars.

Handlebars and grab bars are a relatively simple and inexpensive solution for making bedrooms and bathrooms safer and easier to navigate. Consider installing handrails and grab bars in areas that require movement or activity, such as the kitchen, next to the bed, or near the living room.

Building codes and permits vary by region, but before beginning this project, look into government or local resources as well as the IRC (International Residential Code) for stairwell railings.

Grab bars should typically be as high as the user requires, but the ADA recommends 33 to 36 inches off the ground, including in bathrooms and showers.

4.Take out the rugs and liners.

People with disabilities should have a smooth and secure experience when using accessible flooring. Remove any rugs or liners that may cause problems for people who use wheelchairs or walkers. If you want to use rugs or carpets in your home, look for a very low-pile rug that can be attached to the subflooring with rug tape that is not in the way of wheelchairs.

You could also contact a local flooring installer and request a custom solution that allows a rug to hook into the flooring.

Low-slip flooring options, such as vinyl or laminate, are ideal for your home read more ….

[needleslace]

I made a doll closet for my daughter's 18" doll. I had a lot of fun making it!

I made it out of some boxes in the house, cardstock, ribbon, and a dowel rod. I might add feet at the bottom and a way for the door to stay closed (it keeps swinging back open). Right now I'm working on getting a few clothes hangers made out of some craft wire I had laying around.

[miyuhpapayuh]

20. It's about to be a girl fight.

1996

Stepping out of the shower, Stevie tightens her pink cotton towel around her frame and heads across the hall, rummaging through her side of the closet in Rod's room.

Growing completely attached at the hip, Stevie temporarily packed up most of her stuff and moved in, which had Rod over the moon with excitement.

"Hey," coming in the room with a plate of waffles with strawberries plopped on top and extra drizzles of syrup, he sits it on his desk. "I made you breakfast."

She turns around and smiles, welcoming the million kisses that he urgently presses to her lips. 

"Thanks, baby."

"You're more than welcome." He releases her, letting her go back to picking out her clothes for the day.

"When do you go back to work?," he asks, sitting on the edge of his bed, tugging on his bottom lip as she comes out of her towel to lotion up.

"Tomorrow. I called Claire and she's so excited that I'm finally coming back. Rena and Alana must be driving her crazy." Rod chuckles, tearing his eyes away from her and staring towards the window, watching the rain slack up.

"You miss their crazy asses, huh?"

"I really do. I miss Tyler, too. I haven't seen her, since Thursday."

"Why don't you go and see her? I'm sure she'd love that." He turns back to her, watching her button up the mustard colored button down and fasten the button on her high-waisted jeans.

"I could do that. I just don't know how busy she'll be with Tasha and everything. I guess I'll call her." She closes the closet door and heads towards her plate, popping a strawberry into her mouth as Rod pulls her onto his lap.

"You look good," he kisses her neck, causing the giddy smile to make its way onto her lips.

"I do, huh?"

"Mmhm. Real good." Repeating the action, she scrunches up and giggles, pushing him away. In the midst, he gets a whiff of her sweet scent.

"Whatchu got on? You smell like sugar," he obnoxiously sniffs her, causing her to suck her teeth.

"Cut it out! It's vanilla body butter. You like it?"

"Hell yeah, you smell good than a muthafucka." He grins up at her, earning an eye roll in return.

"Such a way with words."

After she finishes her breakfast, they're off to their classes.

Pulling her bag out of his backseat, she groans and steps out onto the pavement. Rod rounds the car and calmly hovers over her tiny frame.

"You sure you're gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just have the most boring classes. Creative writing is my last class, so I'll just suffer until then." She pouts.

"Tuck that lip in, girl. It'll be over, before you know it."

"You promise?"

"I promise." He holds his pinky up, linking his with hers, before kissing her knuckles.

"When's your last class?" He asks, leading them into the stuffy building.

"One-fifteen. What about you?"

"One," he chuckles, "funny how that plays out, but I'll be waiting for you, like always."

"You're the sweetest." She pinches his cheek.

"For you? Anything."

Reluctantly heading in opposite directions, Stevie heads into her earth science class, already dreading the hour and a half.

Finding a seat near the back, she plops down and sighs, feeling a pair of eyes burn a hole in the side of her face. 

Raising an eyebrow, she looks in their direction. "Can I help you?"

The blonde points to the faded purple bruise underneath her eye and very bluntly asks, "what happened to your face?"

"You don't just ask people questions, like that."

"Was it your boyfriend? I was in an abusive relationship, too—" Stevie's eyes widen as she rushes to cut the girl off.

"Girl, relax. My boyfriend has never put his hands on me. I'm sorry that somebody did that to you, but that's not the case on my side."

"Well, are you okay?"

"Yes.”

The girl nods, tearing her eyes away from Stevie.

"I didn't mean to pry. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I got it. I'm fine, thanks."

Truthfully, it'd been a little under a year since the whole ordeal had went down and she still found herself on edge about it, understandably.

Rod had to basically stronghold her into staying home, because she wasn't ready and she knew it, but she was stubborn and didn't want to be confined. But, after her last nightmare, he'd put his foot down.

Staying inside became normal to her, after a while. She'd do her homework through email and her mama's fax machine, or through Rod.

She'd occasionally take a walk around the block if she needed to get away, even drive here and there. Rod became her personal chef in no time, cooking all her favorites and contributing to her noticeable weight gain.

Her scars had healed up, nicely, but they were still faintly visible. She'd gotten tired of covering them up with makeup, after she had a terrible break out on. Wearing a bare face wasn't an issue, but the stares did get very annoying.

People always glaring at her a little too long. Even giving Roderick ugly stares, with their own assumptions as to why her face and arm looked the way it did.

"It's nice to have you back, Miss Johnson."

"Thanks. It's nice to be back.”

Taking a good semester off and roughly six months out from work, due to random migraines and dizzy spells, her mood also decided to plummet a little.

Blinking the time away, she's finally free to roam the campus for the next thirty minutes, bumping into Tyler on the way, almost jumping into her arms.

"God, have I missed you." Tyler embraces her in the same fashion, before they find a place to talk, deciding on the library.

"I missed you, too. How is everything?"

"Everything is... everything, honestly. I'm finally getting back in the swing of things. I go back to work, tomorrow."

"That's good! I'm glad you're finally out of that house!"

"Me too, honestly. I didn't mind being taken care of, though." Stevie admits, making Tyler laugh.

"Girl, I'm officially jealous. Oh, my cousins told me to tell you hello."

"How're they doing?"

"They're good!, Tia and I have been taking turns watching out for Tasha, helping her get back on her feet, taking her to therapy, making sure she eats even if she doesn't really have an appetite.... it's a lot, but I'm glad she's home."

"Does the appetite thing have a negative effect on her?" Stevie asks.

"Yeah, doc said something about a stitch? I don't know." Tyler shrugs, before glancing at Stevie's face.

"Your face looks so much better, babe."

"Does it, really? Cause bitches keep staring at me, like I need to be the poster child for a domestic violence campaign!"

"Someone asked if Rod hit you?!"

"Someone— try every-fucking-body, girl. I've only been here for an hour and some change and I'm ready to crawl back into bed."

"Wow. Start telling everybody what really happened," she laughs, "they'll leave you alone, then."

"Nah, these muthafuckas crazy. They'd be askin' for details and shit."

"You're probably right. Hey, what happened to that bitch that was pushin' up on ya boy?"

"I honestly don't know, now that you mention it. I haven't seen her, since I've been back."

"Hm. Interesting."

"No it ain't. She better stay hidden, too, cause her ass is still on my list."

"You say it's on sight, huh?" Stevie just gives Tyler a look, telling her everything she needs to know.

"Wow... can I watch?"

"You're so annoying, man."

"We both know that. Hey, you and Rod should come over for dinner on Saturday. Tasha wants to see you. My parents are coming, but they promised to be on their best behavior."

"Oh boy.... I'll come for y'all, but I'm keeping my eye on those parents of yours. They get a little outta hand."

"Don't I know it.," Tyler rolls her eyes, "but, great! It'll be around six or so, but I'll call you."

"Alright, sounds good. Well, I gotta get to this next class, but I love you and I'm so glad I ran into you." They both stand up.

"I love you, too." Tyler pulls Stevie into a tight hug. "I'll see you, Saturday."

Stevie nods, before heading back in the opposite direction.

Sitting for the second time, today, she groans and stares straight up at the clock, watching the little hand tick around and abruptly stop, causing her to curse underneath her breath.

"Son of a bitch."

"Language, Miss johnson." Her professor snaps.

"My bad."

"You've been out for quite some time. I'm proud of you for keeping yourself caught up on everything." Stevie smiles.

"Well, I take pride in staying on top of everything."

"I'm sure you do," a girl near the back of the room mumbles. Stevie looks behind her and rolls her eyes, not even caring to scope the girl out.

"Anyways," Stevie continues, "thank you."

"You're welcome, dear.," she stares behind Stevie's head, pointing her finger, "next time you make a remark like that, we'll be on high school time and you can call your mother and tell her why you can't act right in class. Grow up."

Stevie full on snickers, along with a few others. Soon, the mundane mood returns and she's ready to pull her eyeballs out and sit them on her desk.

By the time the class could be properly dismissed, she rushes out of the door, grumbling to herself as the crowd of students seems to double as she squeezes her way through.

Rod's standing next to his his car, waiting for Stevie's last class to let out so they can hit their favorite wing spot.

He hears his name and looks up, his eyes immediately rolling upward at the sight of the pretty girl with the ugly attitude that was Tara. She was coming his way with an extra swing to her curvy hips.

"Lord, this broad finna get me killed," he says to himself.

"Hey, Jamal," she stops in front of him, a deceptively sweet smile on her face.

He scrunches his face at her name choice, flipping his snapback to the back.

"What? That's not your name anymore?," she asks.

"What you want, Tara?"

"Damn. Who pissed in your Cheerios this morning? I was just coming to invite you to this little kickback I'm throwing at my house this weekend."

"Thanks, but imma have to pass on that." He knows nothing good can come out of being anywhere with Tara, especially at her house.

"Come on now, Rod. I thought we were cool. You can bring 'lil miss thing, too."

"You know her name, Tara. See, 'lil shit like that is why we can't be cool."

"Rod, I'm just kidding. Look, I promise I'll be good."

Something about her tone feels...grimy. There's an undercurrent that isn't as innocent as she was trying to let on. "I just wanna spend some time with an old friend. What's so bad about that?"

 "Nothing when you don't have the history we do. And my girl really don't fuck with you, so there's no need for any of that."

"What can I do to prove to her it's not like that?," she asks, annoyed.

"Leave us alone," he says matter-of-factly.

"Word?," she runs her fingers through her fiery red hair, "One new girl in a list of many, and we not nothing anymore? That's what that means?," she says inching closer to fill the gap between his spread legs, a look in her eyes that would break him if it were Stevie's eyes he was looking into.

But they weren't. They had a jade-like lustre, but lacked all traces of the warmth looking into Stevie's soulful brown eyes filled him with.

It was really no contest.

As he was pushing her back a voice sounded, and by the tone, he knew it was about to get really ugly, really fast.

Little to both of their knowledge, Stevie's class let out, and she was making her way to his car, but stopped short to watch the scene in front of her play out.

"That's exactly what the fuck it means, bitch."

Her signature gold hoops were already out of her ears, having snatched them off and chucked them in her bag.

Rod can't get a single word out before she's pushing him back to put more distance between them, shrugging off her bag.

"I'm truly sick and motherfuckin' tired of having to see you in my man's face every time I look up," her pointer finger is dangerously close to Tara's face.

Of course Rod knows Stevie curses, but her mouth is a new level of slick. It's a terrible time, but he's turned on to the max.

Tara makes the mistake of flicking her hand away, a smug look on her face.

"Baby girl, that's everybody's man. You better get used to that shit."

Stevie merely nods, "Bet."

Blindsiding Tara, Stevie cocks back and sends a quick, yet powerful left to Tara's eye.

Several 'oh shit's' sound throughout the parking lot, but Stevie pays it zero mind. Her only purpose in the moment is to black both of her target's eyes, quite possibly worse.

Tara's no stranger to street fights, so she tries to hold her own, getting in a nasty scratch to Stevie's cheek.

They trade blows, both catching each other with substantial punches.

Tara dips under Stevie's arms and tackles her to the pavement, gaining the upper hand long enough to backhand her and swing her arm to catch the other cheek with her palm.

She's no match for her unbridled rage, though. Stevie hooks her leg around Tara and rolls them over, sending blow after blow to her face. Tara grabs a chunk of her hair, angering her further.

"Let my fuckin' hair go!," she sends a punishing lick straight to her nose. She's positive she broke it.

Good.

She feels arms trying to pull her away and a soft voice near her ear attempting to calm her down.

She flings her arm backward and catches whomever the unlucky bastard was directly in the forehead in a very Helga from Hey Arnold! fashion.

All she sees is black.

It takes two pairs of arms to finally pry her off the girl who is near motionless.

She snatches herself away from both of them when they get her far enough away from the body.

"I'm good! Worry about scraping that bitch up off the ground."

She briskly walks away from the scene, leaving her bag where it lay.

"Stevie, wait!" Rod grabs it and jogs to quickly catch up to her.

She speeds up her pace in an effort to get as far away from everybody as possible.

"Stevie, stop!" He grabs her arm, only needing a light amount of force to turn her around.

"Don't touch me," she says, yanking from his hold, pushing him back.

Rod runs his hand over his face, exhaling harshly to calm himself, watching her continue to go off. "Go help that dog-faced hoe find her teeth."

"I don't want shit to do with that girl! Fuck you mad at me for??”

"You let the conversation go on too fucking long! I been told you the type of time her ass was on, and you still let the bitch play in your face!"

At this point, people are looking at the continued spectacle, some worried there may be a second fight.

"Stevie, let's talk about this at home," Rod says uninterested in giving nosy Nancy's any more entertainment.

"I ain't going nowhere with you!"

He pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a migraine come on.

"Alaina," he started in a tone that brooked no argument, "let's go."

She stares at him with no back down in her gaze, until she, too, was made aware of the many pairs of eyes privy to their argument.

She sighs, relenting and walking with Rod to his car.

They ride in silence for a long while before she breaks it with something he never thought he'd hear out of her.

An apology.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put all that on you. I know it wasn't your fault that she ain't take the hint. I know you did and said everything you needed to, to get her to see the point."

He can tell she's sincere, even though her eyes stay on the road ahead of them. He remains silent, sensing there's more on the tip of her tongue.

"I was just so...mad. I haven't felt that kind of rage since...," she trails off, but he knows exactly where she's coming from. "She was just another person who wasn't going to stop until she tore us apart for good. And I'll be damned if I was just gonna let her," her voice breaks up toward the end, making him soften even further.

He chances resting his hand on her thigh, thankful she doesn't rebuff him, and squeezes it. She places her scuffed up hand on top of his.

"I understand, baby," he says softly, "trust me, I do."

They make it home where Stevie grabs a rag and a bowl of ice to tend to her injuries.

"I'm proud of you, shorty," Rod leans on the wall as Stevie places the bare ice cube on her bruised knuckle.

She scoffs a laugh, staring at him through her lashes. "You ain't mad ‘bout ya forehead, no more?"

"Nah, it was an accident, remember?" He replies, sarcastically.

"I swear it was." She snickers. He walks towards her and wraps his arms around her waist, kissing her neck.

"Does it still hurt?," he asks, cupping his hand underneath hers, catching the water from the ice, before it hits the floor.

"Not really, it just stings."

She grabs the rag off the counter and dries her hand, before reaching for the gauze.

"Let me do it." He walks in front of her and rolls out the white adhesive bandage.

"You want it wrapped tight?" He rolls it around her hand, twice. She winces, causing him to start unwrapping it.

"No, that was fine. Go ahead." He nods, before wrapping it another time, and tearing off the excess.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He thumbs over the inch long scratch on her face, scowling.

"It's ugly, I know." Stevie laughs.

"It'll fade," pulling her into him, he kisses her, "you're still beautiful."

"Mmhm?, what else?" She asks between kisses.

"Mm, you're a bad ass.," picking her up, he unceremoniously knocks everything off the counter, placing her on top of it.

Stevie grips the collar of Rod's shirt as she deepens the kiss, while he pops the button on her pants, roughly yanking them off of her.

"We ain't makin' it to the bed, huh?"

"We don't need a bed, baby..." his lips trail up her neck to her ear, "I'd fuck you, anywhere."

Pulling off her jeans, he goes for her shirt next, popping each button off as he rips it open. The gasp that comes out of her mouth, only fuels him.

He pulls it completely off, taking care to not agitate her hand and flings it carelessly across the kitchen.

Her hands grip the front of his pants, closing the space between them, locking their lips while she deftly undoes his belt buckle, and pops the button on his jeans. She pulls them down as far as her hands can reach, using her feet to push them down the rest of the way.

He gathers a fistful of hair at the base of her neck and pulls it backward. With the length of her neck exposed, he kisses his way down to the valley of her breasts.

He has no desire or patience to fiddle with the multiple clasps of her bra, so he simply pulls the cups down. He wraps his lips around her hardened nipple, soft whimpers leaving her mouth. After showing proper attention to the other side, he kisses his way to her now-throbbing center.

He runs his nose up her slit, and she lets out a shaky breath. Teasingly, he kisses her clit through her panties.

"Baby, quit playin'," she whines breathlessly.

"You gotta tell me what you want, babygirl," he says while stroking her with his index finger.

"Put your lips on me."

"My pleasure." He smirks, grabbing her by the waist and picking her up off the counter. Bending her over so she's flush with the cold marble, he kneels down so he's eye level with her girl.

He yanks her panties to the side and his mouth waters at the sight of her glistening, pink lips.

He wastes no time in devouring her, sucking on her pearl like a piece of butterscotch.

Her thighs begin to quiver as she claws at the countertop. Her breathy moans are sweet music to his ears. She feels the familiar pressure build in her lower stomach, which makes her attempt to move further up the counter to catch a break from the pleasure overload.

He doesn't allow her that, pulling her back and locking his arms around her thighs. He pushes his face harder against her, shaking his head.

"Oh, fuck!," she curses, tapping on the counter as her orgasm rushes through her, drenching his face in her stickiness.

She rests her forehead on the counter, breathing heavily. Her breaths turn to soft mewls as he cleans her mess with his tongue. A low noise of surprise leaves her mouth when she feels his tongue graze over her other hole.

They'd have to explore that further and soon.

"Okay, okay," she pushes his head away, making him chuckle.

He rises, leaning over her with his lips underneath her ear, and kisses the skin there.

"Too much, baby girl?," he grabs the base of his dick and rubs the tip against her slit.

"Yeah," she responds breathlessly, feeling sparks run through her body at the contact.

"Too bad," he sheaths himself inside her fully with a single stroke, knocking the air from her lungs.

The sound of her gasps went straight to his manhood, pushing himself deeply inside her every time he thrusted.

He gathers both her wrists in one hand behind her back, using his free one to grip her neck.

The pressure on her neck combined with his lethal strokes had her leaking down her inner thighs. The only thing Rod hates about this position is that he can't see sexy love faces she makes. How her juicy bottom lip gets wedged between her teeth and how her eyes roll into the back of her head when it's getting good to her.

He'd make sure to set the camera up next time.

His own breathing starts to become labored. His strokes get sloppy as they near their peaks.

"Damn, this shit grippin' me up, baby. You wanna cum? Hm?," he says lowly in her ear.

The only sounds she can produce are strangled moans, as his hand still firmly grips her neck. He releases his hold on her wrists to bring his hand down on her ass cheek, making her hiss. "I asked you a fuckin' question."

It feels like he's trying to turn her inside out, but she's just able to shriek out a 'Yes! Yes daddy, I wanna cum!'

There's that word again. He's never going to let her forget it, now.

She surprises him once again, throwing her ass back on him in time with his strokes.

"Yeah, princess. Just like that." He swats her ass again, rubbing his hand over the reddening patch of skin.

She screams his name up into the ceiling as she cums. The sheer force of it pushes him out of her as she slides off the counter.

"Shit," she mutters, turning to face him on her knees, cupping her sensitive heat.

She looks up at him as he strokes his length. "Where you want it?" She responds by opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue with a wink.

"Nasty ass," he smirks. A few more pumps of his fist, and he erupts onto her waiting tongue in spurts. Some of it misses and lands on her chest. She doesn't waste a bit, using her finger to swipe it off, and sucking it clean.

He pulls her up, shamelessly kissing her dead in the mouth.

She sneaks her hand down between them, wrapping her slender fingers around the girthy piece to stroke it back to life. His hand gently catches her wrist, halting her movements.

"Don't play with me, girl. I'll fuck you up in here."

She snickers at the threat, "Don't threaten me with a good time, Rod." Giving him one last kiss, she moves her hand and starts to walk away toward their bedroom.

He shakes his head and tosses her over his shoulder as if she weighs nothing.

It's gonna be a long afternoon.

Sex.

Heavy breathin' ,

Soul sharin' ,

Blissful eruption.

Sensations that make your skin crawl in the best way possible.

Make you wanna get on your knees and repent...

Nothin' should feel that good.

Addictive.

Got you sayin' things,

doin' things,

actin' ways.

All for that thang.

Can't go days without it.

It'll make you say...

"I love you"

"I'll kill for you."

"I'll kill you."

"Fuck,"

Another two rounds of the most toe curling orgasms later, the extra dewy pair finally conclude their hour(s) long session.

"I'm exhausted." Stevie pants, rolling over on the messy sheets.

"Are you?" Rod chuckles, too tired to move from his spot.

She hums a laugh, before pushing her wild hair away from her face to look at him. "I physically can't go, anymore."

"Well, we did fuck three times."

"Saying that out loud sounds absurd."

"Not if you like fuckin'.... which we do."

"On top of you getting your point across.," Stevie shakes her head, before placing it on the pillow.

"Did I?"

"Yes," she laughs, "you got it across, when you broke me off on the bathroom counter, but I just let you keep goin'."

The widespread grin on his face makes her roll her eyes, and turn over to face the window.

"C'mere, girl." Rod pulls her back into his heated body, wrapping his arm over her.

The small droplets of rain, hitting the window, slowly turn heavy. Rod pulls Stevie in closer and brushes her hair away from her neck, kissing her smooth skin.

"Hey," he speaks.

"Yeah?" She asks.

"Nobody could ever come between me and you."

@blackerthings @thegifstories @sheabuttahwrites @soufcakmistress @blowmymbackout @lemmewritesomeish @trippyscotch @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @ghostfacekill-monger @abeautifulmindexposed

[abudhabilaundryservices]

Maximizing Minimal Space: Smart Tips for Small Closet Organization

Is your small closet bursting at the seams with clothes, leaving you overwhelmed and frustrated? Fret not! With a dash of creativity, strategic planning, and a little help from the experts, you can transform your chaotic wardrobe into a beautifully organized haven. Here’s your comprehensive guide to conquering closet clutter and maximizing every inch of your limited space.

The first step in creating an organized closet is decluttering. Empty your closet and sort your items into categories like tops, bottoms, dresses, and accessories. Take a critical eye to each piece, asking yourself if it still fits, sparks joy, and remains in good condition. Be ruthless—bid adieu to anything that doesn’t meet these criteria. Consider donating or selling items that no longer suit your style but are in good shape.

The effective utilization of vertical space can be a game-changer in a small closet. Install additional shelves or stackable organizers to optimize every inch. Invest in hanging organizers equipped with various compartments to efficiently store accessories like scarves, belts, and ties. Don’t forget the closet doors—hooks can be a valuable resource for hanging purses, hats, or necklaces. Freeing up vertical space leaves room for larger items on shelves and in drawers.

Get creative with storage solutions to make the most of your closet space. Hanging shoe organizers or transparent shoe boxes keep footwear visible and easily accessible. Foldable fabric bins or storage boxes are perfect for stowing away off-season clothing on high shelves. Hanging rods or cascading hangers efficiently store clothes vertically. Try using tension rods inside the closet to organize scarves or handbags.

After decluttering, take organization up a notch by color coding and categorizing your clothes. Group garments by type (tops, bottoms, dresses) and then organize each category by color. This visually appealing and practical method simplifies finding what you need in a jiffy.

Consider storing seasonal items separately using under-bed storage containers or vacuum-sealed bags. As seasons change, rotate your wardrobe accordingly. This practice not only maximizes space but ensures you have the right clothes at hand for the current season.

Maintain an organized closet by keeping your clothes clean and wrinkle-free. Professional dry cleaning, laundry, and ironing services, such as those offered by Abu Dhabi Laundry Services, are invaluable. Entrust delicate or high-maintenance garments to their expertise, giving you more time to focus on organizing your closet.

Sustaining an organized closet requires regular upkeep. Dedicate a few minutes each week to tidying up and returning items to their designated spots. Promptly put away freshly cleaned and ironed clothes, avoiding piles on the floor. Consistent maintenance is the secret sauce to preserving your closet's orderliness.

Embrace the transformation of your small closet by implementing these practical tips and innovative storage solutions. Bid farewell to clutter and welcome a beautifully organized small closet that makes getting dressed a joy every day! Remember, with a bit of dedication, your space can become a stylish, functional oasis.

[jinna-aka-ninja]

Home Invasion

It was a nice gated suburban neighborhood. The kind of place that the moment you stepped into it you just felt safe. There was a guard at the gate who had always given Y/N and her family a smile when they drove back in from an excursion to Santa Carla.

How could anyone feel like they weren’t safe?

Y/N laid face down on her bed, her arms beneath her pillow. It was a great afternoon at the boardwalk. It was Y/N’s last week in Santa Carla before she went off to college across the country so her parents had been trying to spoil her at the boardwalk to tempt her to coming back for the holidays. They had wanted her to go to college somewhere closer but no, she had her heart set on a certain university and she was not going to be swayed.

Her eyes closed letting herself drift into sleep.

The sound of glass shattering had stirred her from her dreams. Y/N groggily sat up in bed and put on her slippers before going to the door, pausing as she heard the sound of her mother crying loudly and her father trying to calm her.

“My god, will you shut up?” David groaned from under his balaclava mask, all of them had wearing similar ones; despite Marko having wanted to customize the masks that they wore.

Dwayne thankfully had the common sense to tell him that if they did customize the masks then it would give them more reason to search for certain things. If they had no idea what they were looking for then it would be easier. Though.. it wasn’t like these people would live long enough to remember what their masks looked like.

Even their security cameras weren’t going to catch anything. They had flown in through the second floor where not a single cctv had been placed. It wasn’t their fault that they never expected that anyone would literally fly in through an open window. The bottom floors had cameras but not in the inside.

Just because Max was their sire didn’t mean that he was willing to give a share of his wealth. So as an act of rebellion the boys decided, why not rob Max’s neighbour and murder them? It would have him on edge and it was just delightful to think about.

The thing was... they failed to mention they had a daughter. Just old enough they didn’t have to feel bad about using as a meal. It was a home invasion gone... bloody.

Really they hadn’t even realized another person in the home until there was a shift in the floorboards.

“Anyone else you need to warn us about?” Marko asked, his voice coming out as a damn near giggle of excitement.

“It’s our cat-...” Y/N’s mother tried to say through her cries.

Paul let out a whistle, “Must be one fat cat if its loud enough to make the floors creak.”

“The fuck...” The voice came as a whisper but the offended tone was clear. Dwayne looked up to the staircase.

“Your cat talks.” Dwayne mused as he looked to the two who were tied down on the floor.

“Please....” Y/N’s father begged. “She’s just a kid.”

Marko bounded his way up the stairs. The woman screaming for him to stop, the man trying to get up to run after Marko only to have David place his boot on his back and push him back down. “You lied to us. Let our friend go and get her. Can’t have her missing out on the fun.”

Y/N knew her mistake when it had slipped from her lips. She ran to her closet, grabbing the curtain rod and pulling it off. Holding it up like a baseball bat to use as a weapon. The moment the door opened, she swung.

It was quick, she never had a chance. Marko grabbed the metal pole while laughing as he pulled her closer to him, “Oh you’re going to be-...” the words seemed to slip from him as he looked into her eyes. “Fun..” He finished when they came back. “Shit.”

The others downstairs froze in place. The moment Marko made the connection they all felt it. Eyes snapping to the staircase as their minds reeled on what to do.

Do they kill her parents and take their newfound mate and force her to love them? Or do they back down and try to win her over the old fashioned way?

“Please, you can take anything you want. I’ll give you the combo for the safe, just let my parents go, okay?” Y/N begged Marko feeling tears fill her eyes. Marko lifted his gloved hand to brush the tears that fell down her cheek.

“Your eyes are so pretty when you cry.” Marko whispered.

[kylejsugarman]

16 and 21 for Baby, 6 for Demi, and I forget what their brother's name was i'msosorry but 4 for him!

thank u ro!!! 🥺 although 40 lashes for not remembering mason's name

16. What does your OC's childhood bedroom look like?

when baby is still living in the ayuluk house, she sleeps in the bedroom that was converted from a closet back when mason was born, which did its job but wasnt anything special. once jesse and demi decided to move in together, he got really excited by the prospect of turning the spare room into baby's new bedroom. he built her a trundle bed with drawers underneath to store her toys and books and a desk while demi painted the walls light blue. there's thick blue curtains over the window to keep out bright sunlight on snow light that have graphics of kelp and coral along the bottom half and fish to make it look like the ocean floor. one corner has all her doll stuff and is padded with a rug so she can comfortably play on her knees. it's a little eclectic and theres definitely a lot of blue, but baby LOVES it. her room is her favorite place in the world.

21. If your OC could speak to their childhood self, what would they say?

man. "we're kind of weird, but that's ok. we don't have to change that part or anything. but please don't think ur wrong or not supposed to be loved. ur going to be so happy. people will like u for real and u will like urself :)"

6. Did your OC have a teacher or a mentor growing up? What was your OC's relationship with them like?

demi definitely looked up to her mom and had a lot of love for her, but it was difficult to like. fully learn from and trust her because demi Was the lightning rod for sam henry's abuse and everyone Knew it, including her mom. she was really polite to adults, but didnt really trust most of them or expect them to understand her until her eighth grade science teacher. initially, her teacher was just impressed by demi's intellect and performance in the class, but she soon realized that demi was not being nurtured quite the way she deserved to be. this was a smart, sweet kid who didnt recognize those traits in herself. she gets to know demi and invites her to read or do homework in her classroom before and after school so demi doesnt have to wait outside. she's the one who encourages demi to start volunteering at the animal shelter once demi admits that she'd like to go into a caretaking profession and likes animals more than people. it wasn't anything like Monumental, but demi really needed this kind of encouragement and just attention from an adult and it set her on her career path. they're facebook friends and demi agonizes at least once a month over whether she should send a message to her to express her gratitude or if it would be Weird.

4. What was your OC's childhood dream? Is that still their dream? If it has changed, why did it change and what's their new dream?

mason was the kind of kid who wanted to do Only Cool Shit when he grew up. like he did Not want to be a doctor or a police officer, he wanted to be a BMX racer or helicopter pilot or just like. guy who drives monster trucks for a living. his dream was basically to live to the extreme and never, ever have a boring life. now as an adult, this isnt quite his dream anymore, but he still aspires to not live a boring life. working at the docks and manning industrial fishing boats injects some excitement into his life while also providing a pretty good wage for first his family, then himself. he and his buddies will do fun, risky shit—snowboarding, axe-throwing, jumping ice floes—just for the sake of having fun. mason has a little more self-awareness now and concern for his wellbeing since he had to take on a lot of responsibility before he was even an adult and currently wants to stay at least somewhat safe to be there for his sister and her family, but he's sticking to his dream of never letting tedium and fear win.