#and all of my clothes and stuff are in a bedroom upstairs that is basically a storage room

[brattybottomdyke]

i want to moveeeeee out

[cutierika]

; falling out of love

warning: angst

Tartaglia has been acting .. weird, recently. He doesn’t give you morning kisses anymore, his daily hugs, and even refuses to spend quality time with you. You can’t bring yourself to break up with him, no, you love him too much for that. Is he falling out of love? If so, what made him fall out of love? What did you do wrong?

A/N: I didn’t proofread this, so there might be some mistakes.

Stressed. It was one word to describe how you’ve been feeling this past week. Well, stressed was an understatement.

It was just another freezing, dark and cold night. You wouldn’t even dare try to look out the window, it’d just make you feel even more colder due to the amount of snow outside.

Childe was late. Again. You couldn’t really blame him, though. Being a Fatui Harbinger was hard work. Childe should’ve already came home 2 hours ago. He usually comes home at 11 pm, but it’s now 1 AM. And here you are, sitting on the couch, watching TV, waiting for your lover to come home.

The food that you cooked for him still laid neatly on the table, though the food was already cold. You sigh to yourself, standing up from the couch, and throwing the food away. It’s not like he was going to eat it anyway. He just comes home, gives you a lazy kiss on the cheek, then heads to the bedroom to sleep.

You two share the same bed, yet everytime you two slept together, it’s like he wasn’t even there. His back would be faced at you, not even bothering to acknowledge you.

But.. He’s just tired, right?

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Sitting back down on the couch, the front door swung open. Childe was finally back from work.

“Darling!” You exclaim, jumping up from the couch to pepper him with kisses and embrace him onto a tight hug.

“Hey, my love,” Childe replied, leaning down so that he could be at eye-level with you, giving you a lousy kiss on the cheek, and walking away, heading upstairs to the bedroom.

You frown as Childe gently pushes you off him, heading upstairs to the bedroom. You sigh, why are you even surprised? It’s not like this is anything new.

You followed him upstairs, and Childe was already in his leisure clothes, sleeping peacefully on the bed. His back was faced to you, as usual.

You were in the mood for cuddling, surely he wouldn’t mind you hugging him? You don’t mind being a big spoon every now and then. You two haven’t been really doing basic stuff couples would do, anyways. Like, kissing, gift giving, giving each other compliments..

You laid down beside him, snuggling up closer to him.

Childe sighs, “Baby, not really in the mood.”

“Since when are you ever?” You quickly replied.

Childe lets out a soft hum. “Please, honey, just.. let me rest. It’s been a long day.”

You scoff, but not bothering to say anything else. He’s right, it has been a long day for him. Not wanting to stress him out any further, you turn to your side, also facing your back at him.

Well, that was awkward. Well, to be honest, your whole relationship with Childe has been awkward recently.

You woke up to the sound of Childe’s alarm. It was now 5 AM. It must be tough for him, huh? Arriving home at 1 in the morning, and then having to get up at 5 in the morning.

Maybe he’s right. Yeah, it’s always a long day for him. All you have to do is be a good girlfriend and let him do his job.

…

No. You’ve decided to follow him to work.

It was dangerous and risky, considering he’s a Fatui Harbinger, but you couldn’t help it. These thoughts were slowly making you insane. You were overthinking, and you always let those thoughts win.

Hiding behind tree to tree while following him, he was just slaying hilichurls or treasure hoarders that got in his way.

You weren’t really noticing anything suspicious. You roll your eyes, you look so stupid right now. Following your boyfriend to work, just because you thought he was cheating on you.

You turn around, heading back home, until you hear a voice.

It was a female voice, calling out Childe’s name.

“Childe! There you are”, your eyes widen, your head immediately snapping to the direction of the voice.

It was a woman with blonde, short hair and— Wait, isn’t that Lumine, the traveller?!

“Hello, gorgeous.” Childe replied, with a flirty and seductive tone. “How’ve you been? You know, without me being by your side and all.” Childe chuckled and winked at her.

Did he just call Lumine “gorgeous”? Just what exactly is going on here?

Lumine giggles. “Don’t be such a tease. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

“Mmh. Sure you are.” Childe replied.

Your whole body froze, your body going limp. You wanted to dig a hole and hide in there forever. No, stop overthinking. Lumine’s probably just.. A close friend of Childe.

Wrong.

Childe steps closer to Lumine, his arms snaking around her waist as Lumine wrapped her arms around his neck.

Childe leans in closer to Lumine, their lips just an inch apart away from each other.

They kissed.

Tears started swelling up your eyes, you couldn’t handle it anymore. You turned around and immediately ran back home.

Thoughts started running through your mind, “Did the 2 years we spent together mean nothing to him?”, “Did he ever even love me? What about all those promises he made? Were they nothing but empty promises?”, “Was I nothing but a toy to him?”

You arrive home, swinging the front door open, wiping your tears away, though it was no use. Tears still poured out your eyes, running down your cheeks like a waterfall.

You laid down on the couch, closing your eyes, allowing the tears to spill down through your cheeks.

Before you knew it, it was already 11:17 PM. Childe should be home in three minutes. You sat up on the couch, and you instantly recall the moment when you caught Childe kissing Lumine. You bite down on your lower lip. It takes every fiber in your being to not have a mental breakdown once again.

The front door swung open, Childe greeting you with a lazy smile. “Hello, love.”

“Don’t call me that.” You immediately retorted. You put on a tough and strong act, not wanting Childe to see you so weak and vulnerable like you were a few hours ago.

“Hm? What’s wrong? What do you mean?” Childe questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

“What? You thought I wasn’t going to find out? I saw you make out with Lumine. I’m not a fool.”

Childe’s face turned pale. “Don’t be silly. You know I only love you.”

“Is that all you know how to do? Lie through your teeth?” You were furious. “How long has this been going on?”

Childe didn’t respond for a while, “..2 months.”

This just made you angered even more. All those times where he didn’t acknowledge you, didn’t even face you while sleeping on the bed, didn’t even kiss you on the lips anymore, hell, didn’t even hug you! It all made sense now. How did you not realize sooner?

“Look, I’m sor–”

“Save it.”

It takes everything in you to not slap Childe, though you know that won’t fix anything. “I’m leaving.”

“Baby, don’t! Please, just a second chance.” Childe pleaded. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you! Please, my love. Don’t do this!”

You scoff, facing your back at him and leaving through the front door.

Childe mischievously smirked as you left.

He knew how you were. You were gonna come back crawling to him in no time.

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

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

haha, how was it?, sorry if there were any mistakes. Feel free to point them out.

i take requests !! make sure that it’s genshin related <3 .

[aibidil]

Neurodivergent Design

I've found neurodivergent design principles so helpful in creating a more livable environment. Sharing in case it helps others. The basic idea is that we need to design our space for the brain we have, not the person society tells us we "should" be. Like with everything else, life is better when you accept yourself rather than trying to change or follow scripts that do not fit. Some examples! (I realize this assumes a house/car/life like my middle-class American one, but the same principles apply regardless.)

Store your socks where you store your shoes. Socks live in the garage.

If there's a spot in your bedroom always piled with half-dirty clothes and it's bothersome because it's messy, get a nice basket expressly for that purpose

If you never fold/hang your clothes despite intending to, get open-front bins and intend to store them that way

Always forget your sunglasses? Keep them in your car/bag.

Keep the sunscreen in your car because you'll forget to put it on when you're home. (Likewise, other things that you only use out but are likely to forget--camp chair? Picnic blanket? They live in the trunk.)

Always run out of phone/laptop battery on the couch? Install a permanent laptop and phone cable there. (Mine can be tucked between the cushions when not in use!)

Keep your toothbrush in the downstairs bathroom if you always remember when you're about to run out the door

Never going to use a fancy dining room? That can be a craft room or an office. Who says it's gotta be a dining room?

Keep the workout stuff where you can use it as easily as possible

Trash piles up somewhere? Get a small can, who cares if it's in the middle of the room

Always realize you're thirsty upstairs when you're far from the tap? Get a big water jug up there. Likewise, put plant-watering stuff (watering can, fertilizer, spray bottle) on every floor you have plants...Likewise, keep cleaning stuff next to every toilet/vanity so you can do a quick clean if you notice it needs it

Always leave your knitting shit all over one room? Don't store your knitting supplies in a DIFFERENT room. (Major @ at me for not realizing this for a year+)

Set location- or time-based reminders if you need help remembering any of these

These are all so obvious but often don't occur to us because we don't frame these issues as unsolved problems, instead we think of them as firm evidence of our failures. They're not. They're just a chance to use that awesome, creative problem-solving.

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 20 “Camping (T)Rip” [Episode List]

Tim, Dave, Adam and Greg go camping together to relax and chill for a day far from any responsibility, enjoying the sounds that nature has to offer. Those sadly include Dave’s farts and belches however and things get even gassier when Tim has to share a tent with him.

POV: Tim

Camping (T)Rip

5:30 AM.

I hate waking up early on Saturday morning. Who does? Yet here I am.

We’ve been planning this for weeks but in the end we managed to choose a date which was suitable for everyone’s needs and didn’t interfere with any of our jobs. No girlfriends (not that I had any… obviously), just us guys being dudes in the woods… well not far into the woods but kind of. We all are kind of city slickers after all and while we do like camping, we don’t it as often as we’d like to admit.

I already took a shower and put some clothes on (a simple t-shirt and some sweatpants), so we don’t mess up the schedule. Dave was a heavy sleeper so I went into his room to wake him up.

“Yo, sleeping beauty. Are you waiting for you prince?” I said, as I stepped in.

Indeed there he was, lying on his bed on his stomach, basically naked, only wearing a pair of white shorts, his body figure still being quite a sight in the dimly lit bedroom. 

“If you’re the prince, I’d rather just die here.” he joked, his voice muffled as he had his face buried in the pillow.

I clapped my hands like an angry housewife. “Come on. Get up. Rise and shine.”

His second answer wasn’t muffled at all instead.

Without moving, an enormous, airy morning fart erupted from his ass, surprisingly not tearing a hole through his white shorts. It was loud and proud, so powerful that I’m sure the neighbours were gonna hear it. As he ripped it, he couldn’t help but turn to me, his face still being visibly tired, but I could recognize his smirk, that silly-cocky smile he displays when blasting farts around me, knowing very well what effect they have on me. In fact, as the fart ended, he laughed, noticing the boner through my sweatpants.

“Bro if you wanna pitch a tent you could've at least waited ’til we were in the woods.” 

I simply walked out of the room, hearing Dave’s laughter behind me. Truth is, yes, I found that hot, but I too was laughing on the inside, despite the utter embarrassment. “Fuck off.” I stuttered, to which he replied with a distant, short, loud rip.

I heard Dave getting ready upstairs as I waited for him. Our buds, Adam and Greg, were heading to our place with the former’s car, who agreed to take it as long as Dave was the one driving, ‘cause he’s not very familiar with the countryside and dirt roads -not that Dave was a rally driver or anything, but he had some relatives out of town living in some farm or something, so he should know how to deal with such roads, more than us at least. 

Despite my bro/roommate’s oversleeping, we were right on schedule. Luckily we all packed our stuff the day before so we were basically ready. Finally, Dave joined me downstairs, wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of camo cargo shorts. And sunglasses: he looked like he was ready for a beach day rather than a camping trip. I probably stared at him for a bit because he is a good looking guy after all, and wondered how I got this lucky to have such a bro.

Before I could stare for too long, we heard some car honks coming from the front yard.

“You can stop staring, bro. Dumb&Dumber are here.” 

Oh. I guess he noticed. “I’m so-“ I tried to say.

“Yeah yeah you can apologize for thinking that I’m a good lucking guy later. We don’t have time for this.” he said, as we both got our stuff and rushed outside.

Dave was very patient with me, that’s for sure. He wasn’t annoyed by my appreciation, but rather by me still being so awkward around him. Again very embarrassing for me, but I’m glad that at least he knows that he’s hot -as he knows that I’d never cross certain lines… despite him regularly planting my face into his farting ass!

“Hey ladies.” Adam greeted us outside, helping packing our stuff into the back of the car. Greg and Dave shared an ironic manly handshake as if the two were businessmen, while I set our destination on the GPS.

After we finished stuffing Adam’s vehicle with things that we’re probably not even gonna need for our short trip, we got into the car. Adam and Greg in the backseat, I was on the passenger seat, as the navigator. And Dave, as said before, was the driver.

“It shouldn’t take long.” I commented, staring at the GPS screen. “Around 1 hour at least.”

“Thank you. What about the weather?” Dave replied.

“Well it’s gonna be… you don’t give a shit, don’t you?” I didn’t notice his sarcasm.

“You two can solve your sexual tension in the tent later by the way.” Adam said, annoyed that we were still parked in our front yard.

Finally, Dave got the car moving and our trip officially began.

Being the driver, my bro/roommate (broomate?) was also in charge of the music, some indie rock junk but luckily we all kind of had the same tastes so it’s fine. Me and Adam got into a silly argument about a singer while Greg wanted to convince Dave that today’s music is all bad no matter what. He had some good points, but as usual we chose not to listen to him in the end.

According to the GPS we were halfway there and honestly it was all going well. Greg fell asleep (it was early morning after all) while the three of managed to stay awake. We were just casually chatting and making jokes, until I heard that familiar sound, a sound that you better get used to if you’re friend with Dave. However, much to both of our surprise, as we shared a puzzled look, it wasn’t him: it was Adam.

I turned around, and indeed it was him, just ripping a huge, almost Dave-like one, the sound kind of muffled by the seat, the fart rumbling through his cargo shorts. 

“Sorry guys.” Adam apologised. “The pizza we had last night is kind of messing with my stomach.

“Yours too?” Dave simply replied, with a cheesy grin, and leaned a bit, keeping his hands on the wheel.

Now THAT’S the sound I’m familiar with. It was like my bro took Adam’s rip as a challenge to prove who's the alpha so he made sure to up the game as he usually does. The rip echoed in the car and woke Greg up, who thought we were gonna crash. Dave’s alpha gas earned him an applause and our amused (and immature) laughters, even mine. Despite everything, despite the kink, one gotta admit that he got some mad skills. And while driving on a dirty road, nonetheless!

It didn’t take much for him to hot-box the car, so we promptly rolled our windows down to let some fresh air in. As far as my fetish goes, I too appreciated breathing some clean air after that short competition. We then all resumed talking as usual, and Greg, perhaps mad because we interrupted his nap, started once again ranting about modern music and singers.

—

It took a bit more than 1 hour, but in the end we got there alive and well. We got the stuff out of the car and I started setting up our camp, the “camp” being literally two tents, one opposite the other, and a small fire pit in the middle, which we’re gonna use to do some BBQ later. We allowed Dave to have a beer already ‘cause he’s been driving the whole morning so he deserved some rest.

“I was wondering…” Greg said, looking around, as if he just now noticed we were in the middle of the woods. “what if a hungry wild animal bumps into our camp?”

“Don’t be a pussy.” Adam simply commented, annoyed. “Animals are idiots. Just make some loud noise and they get scared as fuck.” 

Even though I was busy with the tent, I could sense Dave taking that as a cue, an opportunity, from which end I still didn’t know. My bro took one long sip of beer and stood between Adam and Greg, as if he was there to save the day.

“Better safe than sorry, right?” he said, staring right into the woods, and emitting a long, loud belch, which echoed all around us. Whether Adam’s theory was true or not it didn’t matter: anyone would be scared of hearing that, human or animal. A master air-bender from both ends, as usual.

He earned some very immature compliments from all of us and he was himself pretty proud of that. He even made a flock of birds fly away, like earthquakes do. Impressive indeed.

—

After a few hours of drinking, playing some sort of football for idiots, and just chilling, we finally got hungry.

To be more precise, we were starving, as we didn’t have breakfast, if we exclude a sandwich that we shared in the car.

Despite the pizza that Adam mentioned earlier, he was the one who fired up the BBQ first, being, as he put it, “the hungriest he’s ever been”. We all chose how we wanted our steaks cooked, knowing very well that our friend was gonna cook them all “well-made” anyway. 

“This fuckin’ fire.” we heard him hiss at the BBQ.

“You ok there?” Dave walked to him.

“The BBQ won’t start.”

“Maybe I can help.” 

He looked so serious, so professional, we truly believed him, but we shouldn’t have trusted him.

All he did was turn around and rip another one of his blasts through his camo cargo shorts, right next to the BBQ, like he was trying to use his fart to fuel the flame… and to be completely honest we did see some sparks here and there, but we couldn’t be 100% sure. Still, I wouldn’t mess with Dave’s talent so I chose not to say anything.

Either way, that wasn’t helpful at all, despite the fart lasting 12 seconds. He did make Adam mad though, with the risk of also making our steaks taste like, well, ass; so we all cleaned up the BBQ and started over just to be sure, we were all a bit tipsy anyway so we couldn’t even be mad (though we had all the rights to be).

In the end, we managed to have our steaks and sausages (I’ll spare you the very mature jokes we all made that afternoon) well-made, as predicted, despite Adam insisting that they were all perfectly cooked rare like we asked.

More hours passed and we did some more activities, even some hiking here and there around the woods, without going too far however, for laziness of all things, plus we were all drinking non-stop, as 75% of the car was probably stuffed with beers, and going to an adventure was the last thing we needed in these conditions.

We had another BBQ in the evening as we could finish our food, then just chilled around the fire pit sharing stories and half-drunk chatting about the most non-sense stuff, such as “What does light taste like?”.

In the end, we started to feel tired, and so we went to our tents: Greg and Adam had their own, while I shared mine with Dave.

—

In the tent we had no sleeping bags because it was a warm night, so we just laid down on some sheets and pillows and called it a day. The tent wasn’t big but we both of us fit nicely into it. We were lying next to each other, actually quite close of course, but Dave didn’t mind (and neither did I…). My broomate was still wearing his camo shorts, too tired to take them off, but was lying down shirtless, exposing his hairy chest and pecs. Again, Dave wasn’t an athlete, but he did sport a very nice body figure, which I certainly appreciated.

As I laid down next to him, checking some stuff on my phone, we heard Greg and Adam bickering like an old married couple in the other tent. We couldn’t fully understand what they were even talking about, but knowing Greg he was probably still rambling about today’s shitty music which, whether you disagree or not, at one point it gets tiring to hear the same thing over and over again.

But since I’m a hypocrite, this wasn’t true for Dave’s farts, which immediately made our tent shake. Instant boner.

To ease the blast out, my bro cocked his leg up, the one closer to me, showing off the loudness of his blast. The stench that engulfed me was pretty bad, as it tasted like the meat we had before, just rotten. The gallons of beer he chugged certainly acted as bonus fuel too.

7 long, loud and proud seconds and then once again silence.

“Looks like we’re gonna make some noise too.” he laughed, a bit tipsy from the alcohol but perfectly aware of his cruel teasing.

But I did laugh too, like the hopeless idiot I am.

I tried to focus on what I was reading, but next to Dave it was impossible let’s face it. The guy didn’t move but his leg was still up, and his ass wasn’t done talking.

A second fart erupted, very dry and (fittingly) meat-y sounding. Manly, basically.

I’m pretty sure Dave couldn’t smell his own raunchy farts, because there already was a sever lack of oxygen in that tent. And after the 8 seconds rip, he turned to me sporting his well-known cocky smirk.

“I’m just… you know…” he said, leaning a bit more on one side, fully pointing his ass at me. “…trying to scare wild animals.” 

And he made sure to scare me as well with a sudden loud rip. This time he was gonna tear a hole in those shorts I swear. That morning fart from hours before was nothing compared to the raw power I was witnessing. This third blast was however shorter (for his standards) than the ones before, ending at “merely” 5 seconds.

“Fuck.” I heard Adam say from the other side of our small camp. He sounded genuinely impressed. “How does Tim survive that?” he joked. Or maybe not.

“Yeah, Tim.” Dave turned again to me. “How do you do it?” he jokingly asked, with a smirk.

He then smiled, the smile of someone who knew he was brewing a big raunchy one. I heard his hand pushing me closer to his ass; I let him do it, as pretending to hate that was silly at this point.

My friend adjusted his position as my face got closer to his butt, and lifted his ass a bit… only to fully rest it on my face once I was under it. Despite everything, he wasn’t crushing me, as he was slightly leaning on one side, but believe me my nose was planted in his camo ass. Good thing Greg and Adam could hear us but not see us...

I went camping to hear the sounds of nature, and indeed what I heard right all over my face was the roar of a beast, so I guess it counts.

The fart was insanely big, one of his biggest ones yet, and made my head shake due to its power. The stench, which was already terrible due to his previous blasts, got even worse. As he ripped that monster fart, Dave cocked his leg up a bit more, once again to ease the fart out and also push my face deeper into his camo ass. He was having no mercy that night, as he made sure not a single particle of gas polluted the tent now, my face acting like a dam.

Silence followed that 16 seconds blast and I felt his ass bouncing on my face, a sign that Dave was laughing like an idiot. 

“Bro you ok?” he whispered, without moving however.

As I breathed all that gas in, I didn’t know what to say. It’s hard to get used to this, to Dave being such an alpha but also ridiculously chill about my kink.

“Tim you ok there?” Adam shouted from his tent, laughing at my (to him) terrible situation. The fact that they could hear Dave’s farts so clearly from there was yet another proof of my friend’s insane skills.

“Hold up, let me just…” he said, as he adjusted his position.

He then fully lifted one leg, kind of letting me go, but that didn’t mean he was done. I didn't move in fact, and kept lying there, closely inspecting Dave’s camo ass. And indeed sound came out of it… or rather, “came in”. He was sucking air in, supposedly brewing a massive one. I sometimes forget that Dave can fart on command; he rarely does it, not that he needs to anyway.

But when he does, it's like going beyond his own limits.

“This one’s gonna melt your skin off, dude.” he laughed. “I hope the tent doesn’t explode."

I could barely hear him over the sounds of the air going into his camo ass, but I guess he was truly saving the best and biggest for last. I was shaking, as I said I’ll never get used to it. He closed his eyes to force some last bits of air in. He was done.

He then looked at me and winked.

For an instant I’m pretty sure I went deaf and blind, as if a flasbang blew up right in front of my face. I quickly got snapped back to reality, my face right in front of my friend’s camo ass erupting one of the loudest farts I’ve ever heard, period. The roar of a beast, a beast forcing me to bow in front of it, and inhale all of the stench. 

Dave was truly the alpha, there’s really no other ways to say it, and I was more than happy to have a chill friend like him blasting me, once again realizing how lucky I was, ‘cause Dave got it all.

The fart kept going strong and made me sweat, my bro now just casually holding my head still, not that I was wanted to go anywhere anyway. 15 seconds and the beast was till roaring, with Dave spreading his long legs wide to make the sound even louder and the rip somehow even more powerful.

I feared that the tent was gonna turn into a hot-air balloon because of the amount of gas coming out of his ass.

10 more seconds and the beast finally went dormant. Almost 30 seconds in total. It was too much even for me.

I simply leaped again on Dave’s side and laid down before he could say anything, the fart still echoing inside my ears. Dave did the same and just turned to me, making fun of me with that stupid smirk.

“Nature’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he joked.

“Fuck off.” I said again, this time unable to hide my idiot laughter.

Dave simply punched me on the side in response.

“I’ve never seen a tent inside a tent.” he then said.

Took me a moment to realize, but yes, I pitched a pretty big tent in my sweatpants, but I can’t be blamed because I was sharing the tent with a fart master.

My bro simply turned his back to me, and went to sleep, muttering “My work here is done.”, not caring at all about my boner, ‘cause after all he knew about my fart kink, and the fact the got nothing out of all this was insane. 

I tried to fall asleep as well, hoping to “get rid” of that boner tomorrow morning, before anyone could wake up. Despite my bro’s farts, Adam and Greg also managed to fall sleep eventually, and I finally heard them, the sounds of nature, the wind, the trees dancing to the breeze… and Dave snoring right next to me.

End of Episode 20

[nancypullen]

Still Nesting

“The power of finding beauty in the humblest things makes a home happy and a life lovely.” - Louisa May Alcott I believe every word of that.  Nothing in your home needs to be HGTV worthy or expensive to make the space pretty and the occupants happy. I’m a big fan of foraging for items and either transforming them or using them as is to perk up a room.  I’m a Goodwill fairy godmother. I love finding something old and unwanted and turning it into something delightful.  But that’s not what this post is about.  This is about laundry.  Well, my laundry space.   I no longer have a laundry room, I now have a laundry closet.  That’s not a complaint.  It’s in the hallway right outside the upstairs master bedroom which means it’s about six steps away from our closet.  So convenient! I’m happy with that.  The previous owners sold the washer and dryer with the house, and although they’re mismatched, they work perfectly so it’s fine.  Not pretty, but fine.  I loved my laundry room in Mt. Juliet, not because it was a room, but because it was pretty.  A sunny window with lace curtains, shelves with lovely baskets organizing all the various stuff for keeping house, a happy green plant on the window sill, etc.  I loved walking into that room, it made me smile.  My very convenient  but very plain laundry closet did not make me smile. So I decided to change that.  There’s only so much you can do with that limited space, and you already know that I’m cheap  frugal.  But laundry is one of those never-ending chores and having a pretty space to work in just makes it more pleasant, right?  I stared at the bare, utilitarian area and thought about how I could fluff it up for less than $20.  I wish I’d taken a before photo, but I didn’t - so here’s a shot from the real estate ad before we bought the place.

I just realized that’s not the dryer we have. It went kaput and we had to buy a new one the first month we were here. Anyway, here it is now.  

Is it perfect? No. Is it better? Heck, yeah!   As soon as we moved in I’d had the mister lower that shelf because my little T-Rex arms couldn’t reach it. The laundry closet was also painted when the rest of the house got a fresh coat. Most of the stuff on the shelf I already had - the various jars, trays, the little wash/dry/fold/repeat blocks, etc. A lot of it was in my old laundry room. 

I hot glued gingham ribbon on that ugly wire shelf for about $2.

Those jars were my flour and sugar jars.  I filled them with my wool dryer balls, and a sack of clothes pins from the dollar store. We’re up to three dollars now.

I found the hen picture on Etsy and paid two dollars for the digital download, I printed it at Walgreen’s using a coupon and paid about seven dollars.  We’ve reached the twelve dollar mark, this is when I start worrying that I’ll blow past my self-imposed twenty dollar limit.

I visited Goodwill hoping to find an old, ornate frame for the hen print.  It could have any ugly picture in it, I just needed the frame.  No luck.  If it was the right size, it was ugly. If it was pretty it was the wrong size.  So I settled.  That frame will probably change at some point, but I picked it up for just three dollars and it was basic enough to not be offensive.  Current total, fifteen dollars - yikes!

I knew that I wanted a potted plant on the left hand side, and that it needed a little height.  Also, living in a laundry closet it would have to be fake.  I found a few that were perfect, but I’m not paying thirty or forty bucks for a fake plant to sit over my dryer.  Ridiculous.  I improvised with some stuff I had around the house - a vase on a cake plate will do just fine.

I added a little nest that used to sit in a cabinet in the grandgirl’s room and a stem of fake greenery from Walmart ($2.25).  Grand total for the upgrade was $17.25!

Not perfect, certainly not everyone’s taste, but it sure makes ME happy.  I know which laundry closet I’d rather open and work in.   “The ordinary arts we practice every day at home are of more importance to the soul than their simplicity might suggest.” - Thomas More I still feel that you can cook a better meal in a kitchen that’s pretty, and the same is surely true for a laundry space.  I mean, would you rather go to work in an office that’s dark, ugly, and depressing or would you prefer to walk into a bright, spiffy, happy place to do your work?  It’s no different with domestic chores. Well, that’s how it is for me anyway.  Every job I’ve ever had, whether my space was an airline locker or a desk in a school room, it was immediately decorated with little bits of things that made me feel joy. Little pictures, quotes, flowers, doodads...I nested.  “We can’t control the way the world goes but we can make our little bit of it heaven on earth.” - Susan Branch Ever see anyone get so worked up over a laundry closet? Good thing that Mickey told me the garage is off limits. I’m just saying it’s got the perfect ceiling height for a great chandelier...

Signing off now. We’ve got a FUN weekend planned.  We’re running into D.C. and have tickets to see Hamilton at the Kennedy Center!  Aren’t we fancy?  We’re staying in D.C. a couple of nights and will do strike a balance of museum visits and shopping.  I hear the Fashion Centre at Pentagon City calling my name.  I love that mall.  Sephora, MAC, Nordstrom, Macy’s...what’s not to love? More later, pumpkins. Sending out love on this sunny September Saturday. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

[lickingyellowpaint]

LONG-ass Sims 3 post.

@thirtynineitude  I’m just screenshot-obsessed and have nothing to do with that other than post on tumblr, oop.

This is continuing from the household I made here. 

(Not often I actually engage with townies, or build my own stuff, but here are two days of gameplay doing just that, and v amused with it all) :

Lucy’s on Level 8 of painting but only had an easel outdoors, and winter happened, so due to lack of room, she had an easel in the bathroom. Ended up building her a little many-windowed studio in the yard. Basically easels, a couch, and a bar - the necessities.

(Still wanted to move her to a bigger place altogether, but wanted to focus on her social stuff first. Idk if it’s because of the Inappropriate trait, but social stuff hasn’t been her forte.)

A pop-up happened about a spring festival, and the weather was nice (which is rare because it’s ALWAYS raining in this town), so I sent her to the festival.

There, she took a liking to a townie fairy named Dustin Langerak.

They chatted for a while...

but finding out he was married was a harsh blow.

End result: they’re friends-ish, but consolation ice cream was still needed before heading home.

She was home for a short while but she’s pretty diligent about work, so off a-ghost-hunting we go.

Encountered a wild horse on the job.

Once home, Lucy fixed her sink and tended her little garden then went to bed.

Next morning she briefly encountered Grady Elfman, her neighbor/ex-bf’s maid, who I think she also likes but he’s always so busy working he may as well be a full NPC.

Got some more painting done, then back to work. Can’t remember what career level she’s on but she’s on but she’s making decent money and can now scan for ghosts and they’ll appear... when they want, it seems. I’m not sure there’s not a glitch for how long the work takes now, but whatever, being a Ghostbuster is fun.

Long night, got home, chilled with Bogey. I took that time to switch her outfits up in CAS, which I’m doing more often than usual for the hell of it, and still learning everything Sims 3 has. (She doesn’t seem impressed with the meals, even if the clothes are alright.)

Oh, and she’s training Bogey to shake and it’s adorable. tbh the fact I haven’t filled this whole post with Bogey screenshots is a feat of willpower and I should get a sticker or something for it.

ANYWAY - I got tired of her tiny little house, and sticking even a pixellated, 100% Not Real big dog in such a tiny house, and decided to build her a new one. I NEVER DO BUILDS FROM SCRATCH EVER, but this once decided to try. So, I had her request five days off ghost-hunting work as kind of a fresh start, took all her art and photos off the wall and put them in her inventory, and sent her and Bogie off to their new house.

The build doesn’t look like much from the outside maybe, but I’m happy with the inside, and can’t believe I managed a conversation pit from scratch:

Kitchen is open from all directions.

The bedroom has a sweet aquarium window.

MASSIVE dining room, because why not, it’s the Sims.

Her last bathroom was so tiny and pretty boring, so I made this one more interesting with plants.

Upstairs isn’t used much yet, but for now it makes good space for her gem collection:

Oh, and the world’s tiniest pool. Not really for swimming, more for when the summer heat calls for a dip. Bogey seems to think it’s perfectly Bogey-sized.

What does one do with a giant new house?

Throw a party!

Townies she’d met even once or twice popped up on the possible invite list, so a whole bunch showed up. Dustin Langerak included, and I think Lucy was polite not to ask him why she’d found his profile on the sim dating site the day before. 😂 (He even messaged her, ‘I didin’t expect to see you here.’ on the dating site. Bro, what are YOU doing here? lmao but I digress)

Good party! On one of the few good weather days in the neighborhood, thankfully.

Not much social progress made because too many people to have any deep conversations, but still fun, and I had no idea all the guests would bring their own treats and it was a cute game surprise to see happen.

After party? Leftover pizza om nom nom and a bath for Bogey.

The next night, the weather turned back to snowy (which is bullshit, but at least she didn’t plant any new gardening at the new place yet), and I sent her to the beach to enjoy time off work and/or take painting reference pictures. Beautiful little spot. I really do love this town.

The next day, for whatever reason, she invited Dustin Langerak to hang out. They even danced!

And he stepped on her foot more than once.

And DESPITE his having a Sim dating profile (despite being married), he’s not into her, womp womp.

So that night, she tried to hang with Connor Frio, who she’d met on the dating site and at the party. 

Somehow they annoyed each other and it didn’t last long, whoops. Someday I may have to review her traits and see if they’re ALL as off-putting as Diva and Inappropriate lmao

So, she went home on her Vespa - really gotta get this gal some winter-friendly transport, jfc, but yay another wild horsey spotted! - and I got her a sculpting station for something new to focus on.

So yeah, idk where all the singles can be found in Sims 3, and it does get a little tiresome just playing one Sim all the time, but guess she’s as happy with art and her fluffy buddy as building out a family? (There’s one townie lady she’s been courting via text too but who is ALWAYS busy, so what can ya do? Probably just have to send her out to more social events than letting her sit around and paint all the time.)

And she’s hardly the only one who loves this pupper so much. I love this pupper so much, damn it.

Even had her paint him. <3

[ishifted-jdayz]

um. okay. hi. uh. i just shifted. just came back really. fuck dude. jesus christ.

okay um. so i shifted to my "wr" which is basically a ranch and i can do magic real easily and stuff and. it was so interesting coming to there. i was like. sitting up and everything was hazy at first and then i blinked the like. sleep out of my eyes and it was all so real.

there was sun coming through the curtains just how i imagined and the carpet felt right beneath my feet and it smelled like such fresh air, nice and cool. i ran my hands along the wall to really like. ensure i was there and i like. laughed incredulously and was like holy shit. bc i made it. oh my god dude i made it.

i ran outside to see if i was where i was fr and i was. i could see the ocean and the forest and the line of trees that blocks the train tracks. i could hear bugs and birds chirping and i was so. the warmth of the sun on my skin was crazy. i stayed out there for a while. i was in a white like. dress thing? like an undergarment from the 1800s. i was breathing easier i didnt have any allergies. i ran all the way to the beach to dip my toes in the water and fill my hands with sand.

when i got back i was like. so excited. i wasnt even hungry but i made myself be in order to eat in the kitchen. i made my favorite dish (im autism and have it all the time) and was just. beside myself as i watched it rotate in the microwave. i looked at all the cds i have and i turned on the tv. ive been watching criminal minds in old reality lately so i pulled up season 3 bc i hate that gideon left and i pulled up s3 in the one where gideon Didnt leave. and started watching that while i ate and looked around.

ive got a ton of plants next to my couch and i touched them all. the piano plays just like the one in my old reality, and i finally fucking found the sheet music i had forever ago and could never find. and i played it pretty easily and god man. it felt so fucking surreal. all my favorite books were on the shelves and i knew if i took one and pressed my hand against it and said "know" id know it all as if i just read it but i didnt really want to.

i looked in the bathroom and that was fucking cool as shit. the bathtub was so big and the windows were huge (no one comes here unless i want them to so its fine). i found a box of my jewelry including a ring i had to get resized in my old dr but it fit perfectly. the water was perfect and cool under my hands GUYS it was literally so cool.

and my cas room. its just how i imagined. so its like a old ass room from like the 1700s wood floor seems kinda dusty. but theres a mirror and i can enter sort of create a sim mode and change everything abt my self. first thing i did was get rid of my chest and MAN. FUCK. THE EUPHORIA. i started crying. had to take a whole couple minutes to come down from that. and then i started messing with my hair length and type and color and freckles and eye color and height and all this stuff and it was really cool. my ass is so fat now btw SLAY. and i just. looked at myself. and felt truly at home. like even though i look different now i feel more Me bc i Chose it. and anyway.

walked outside again bc i put on diff clothes in the CAS room and wanted to see my horse. its in a little pocket dimension sort of bc i dont want to constantly need to take care of them or have them around but when i want them around they are and i got to see herrrrrrr. shes also a beauty and i love her so much. and my cat pib was there and its just. guys its so fucking freeing. to know that everything i want is there.

went back inside and upstairs to the bedroom and man. i havent done much irt redecorating yet bc i wanted to do that myself but. i have a desk and a computer up there and immediately started up the sims 3 (my favorite game) and started playing and NO LAG. IS SO FUCKING EPIC GUYS. IM SO STOKED. and i played for a while and kept criminal minds on in the background until i got bored and then i went downstairs and ate and started watching. the secret season of black sails (my favorite show) and dudeeeeee that was crazy oh my god. ik why i cant see it in the my cr for meta reasons but now i SEEEEE now i understand........

and then i remembered my library and i ran over to that and dude it was so PRETTY. and i grabbed some music theory books and some language (letters and grammar) books and did the "know" thing and lets just say i know mandarin and japanese and french and gaelige and hebrew now. and im gonna do more when i get back but BRO its just so cool.

and i got a glass of fresh iced tea and went outside and watched the sun set on my porch and pib came up and my old dog bella (whos both old and not old now) and i started crying a little bit and then i went to sleep. and decided to come back here to update yall bc ik i can go back easy af now (bc i came back to a reality where i Can) so. anyway very fucking excited. so fucking happy. one billion out of ten.

[troglobite]

lkasdjflkaj

boy howdy i sure do love that our ONLY covid safe friends are now slightly loosening their mask-wearing so now i have to be The Problem and Request that they mask more frequently before we hang out together at any point.

now when they offer to wear masks, my mom is going to fight me if i DO want them to wear masks. (not a hypothetical, LITERALLY happened today. now i get to deal with the fallout of this tomorrow when we have to see them to pick up their car so we can move into our new house. super fun. if i wear a mask, they'll get mad and say they would've worn them. but i'm 100% sure that my mom told them they DIDN'T need to, so what's the point of me wearing one if no one else is? so i just get to be terrified of potential exposure. i'm just fucking TIRED.)

and NOW we're talking abt furniture in the new house and she fucking insists we need TWO places for guests to sleep, to which i said, when is that ever actually going to happen before covid is over?

she basically told me i could shove it.

"stay in your [half of the upstairs] then"

even though

the HVAC intakes are in front of the guest room/office she's talking about and her own bedroom they're literally nextdoor to my bathroom and my hall closet there is no door separating it and i have no kitchen in the upstairs and no ROOM for kitchen stuff upstairs

she was like this for like 6+ months after she got covid

and then she FINALLY went back to fucking normal

and now that her friend/our previously only covid safe friend has loosened her own masking, now she's back to fucking HATING me for WANTING TO BE AS SAFE AS POSSIBLE.

it used to be the 4 of us (me, her, the friend, friend's daughter) who were united and safe and didn't even HAVE to talk about covid AT ALL. it was NICE.

and now i'm completely fucking alone.

it sounds so fucking dramatic but i'm already so isolated because NONE of my friends are covid-safe. literally none, at no point, literally ever, at all anymore. doesn't matter what i say or share or encourage.

i have to be the person where they'll be like "i'll mask for a week before i see you & we can mask then, too! & it can be outdoors!"

and i appreciate it.

but honestly? i don't trust them to actually mask consistently. and they've already had covid and gotten false negative tests. so i don't like the risk.

i'm 1000000% certain they'd forget to mask sometime during the week. and they'd only wear surgical or cloth masks, which don't really do shit.

and i don't really fancy having to give them a week's supply of KN95 masks, explain how to wear them, and then lay out how/when to keep them on and protocols to take to be safe. bc that seems like an asshole move & it's a lot and it sucks and that dynamic sucks ass.

that's too much. but without it, i don't trust them to get it right. it's not even personal. that's just how they are, and i know i can't trust them with that, & i genuinely don't even mean anything by it. it's not even an insult, it's just a fact.

& maybe sometime i'll decide the risk is worth it, if i can get them to wear KN95 while we're hanging out outside somewhere with good air circulation and away from other people. maybe!

but i hadn't felt this fucking bullshit feeling of being constantly on edge and terrified that my mom is going to do something tremendously stupid and dangerous and endanger herself and me w covid since the 6+ months after she got covid.

i stg she just was embarrassed and frustrated she got it. meanwhile i was furious that she LIED to me abt how safe she was going to be, which is the only reason she got sick (that she wasn't safe and she lied to me about it).

so she was sensitive and touchy and angry and just FURIOUS, even though i was constantly terrified by her behavior and that she'd do something stupid AGAIN and get sick AGAIN.

and finally it went back to normal, we didn't have to worry, she was always careful. even when alone in a museum with only her 2 friends, who are also generally safe, she was the only one who kept her mask on. like THAT'S how back to normal we were.

now, thanks to her fucking friend, now she's back to being a fucking asshole about all of it and making me feel fucking crazy. i'm so tired. i'm so sick of being alone.

i want to be HAPPY right now

i wasn't even pushing about the stupid fucking futon bc i don't want people over--though i don't--i was doing it bc she was getting stressed out about how furniture was fitting in her office and i OFFERED that we could simply get a SMALLER one or get RID of it.

her storage & comfort & happiness in her office which she has to use EVERY DAY is, to me, significantly more important than some fucking hypothetical person who's staying at our house during a pandemic without confirming that they're not sick and have been responsible/safe.

and i'm so tired of her fucking lashing out at me when i even MENTION covid safety anymore.

we were in a store on friday & she started scratching at her eye.

i ASKED her to STOP THAT bc she had JUST handled SEVERAL PRODUCTS IN THE STORE. her hands weren't clean! there were studies that eyes are a vector of infection & glasses help protect!

and she JUST KEPT DOING IT! she got MAD at me for saying she should just clean her hands before doing it. i just ??? "maybe don't touch unclean potentially covid- or flu-covered shit and then DIG AROUND IN YOUR FUCKING EYE without CLEANING YOUR HANDS FIRST???"

that's something i would've said BEFORE covid, too, like FUCK!

but nothing matters anymore. i'm just an insane nuisance that everyone hates.

incredible how i WASN'T constantly talking about covid or freaking out when the friend & her daughter WERE JUST RESPONSIBLE AND SAFE.

wild how i DON'T TALK OR WORRY ABOUT IT WHEN PEOPLE ARE JUST SAFE.

almost like I WOULD SHUT THE FUCK UP

IF PEOPLE

FUCKING TOOK IT SERIOUSLY

AND STOPPED TREATING ME LIKE A FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT ABOUT IT

[legit9thlunaticwarrior]

What’s up! If requests are still open. Maybe some John Cena x reader? Like we’re basically saying he’s her sugar daddy but they legitimately love each other. If you wanna go into more details (cause I gots me some ideas) DM me 💕 thanks again! I’m sure it’s gonna be amazing 🤩

id just like everyone to know that the response auburn gave me when i asked for more details had me absolutely orbiting. direct quote: “John Cena is the man who drinks his respect women juice more than water”. i may have had a lil too much fun with this. also theres a song by accidental airplay called ‘sugar daddy’s little girl’ so there you have it

|remember to leave feedback and i love all you heathens| 

‘Sugar Daddy’s Little Girl’ John Cena x fem!reader

^to the public, she was just his best friend. but to him, she was everything^

- just for insurance: CW- alluding to dom/sub dynamics and sexual situations, possible dd/lg themes(?), honorifics (daddy) (leave me alone, im doing what i gotta do), age gap (reader is 27), i think i put a form of size kink - im fully aware of the fact that dolls kill is a shit company but it is one of the only websites i know that sells things that cater to this specific aesthetic - the ‘two whales’ diner is from life is strange and is the only thing i thought of - watch big mouth and human resources on netflix

3rd Person POV:

Their relationship was, unconventional. There weren’t supposed to be any feelings involved. It was strictly sugar daddy and sugar baby. Then it grew to weekly dates, attending events with him, and eventually moving in. And when it began, the sex had no strings attached; behind that bedroom door, she listened to every command Daddy had and she’d be met with reward. Though for John, it became more than meaningless sex and spoiling her. Oh no, he knew he broke the ‘no feelings involved’ rule the first time when he got back to his locker room after his SummerSlam match against Roman Reigns. John and Y/N had been with each other for three years at that point, giving them the deep knowledge of the other inside and out; she could read him like an open children’s book in that moment. She had found her proper place in his lap with her arms around his neck and leaving sweet little kisses from his neck, to his cheek, to his lips. “I know you’re a little bummed out Daddy, and that’s okay. But, when you came out, you made a lot of people happy; I saw the faces of all those little kids. So what you didn’t win the stupid belt; you do win me no matter what.” He couldn’t help but smile at her little speech, “Do I now? So, how is my little bunny going to help me celebrate?” The answer to that left her with a delicious soreness the next day. 

The second time was when he found out about her past and her true passions. She was such a lightweight that after a few drinks one night, she had spilled the beans to him. She grew up with two older brothers that their parents favored over her, that she was just a pretty face with nothing going on upstairs. She had put on an airhead facade for most of her life that she actually started believing it was true. She had told him about wanting to be an artist since she was a little kid, even making some of her own clothes in her teen years. Her creativity showed in her fashion. He learned quickly what her preferred style was and where to shop. She was a 2000′s princess with a modern twist. John grew to adore the excitement she’d get when her stuff from Doll’s Kill came and she would model for him; even though he’d pick out some of the things she got. After that night, he found a sketch book on her desk when he went to leave a new collar in her room while she was in the shower. ‘When did I get her this?’ he had thought. He didn’t want to snoop but he couldn’t kill the curiosity he had. Flipping through the pages, he saw beautiful drawings; mostly having to do with him. Even if they weren’t a couple, they had their domestic moments so she had captured his picture at his calmest points; as illustrated on many of the pages. He also saw outfits inspired by his merchandise and personas in his wrestling career with notes alluding to progress on the actual final product. He placed everything where it was supposed to be and left the room. 

She came down to find him on the couch with the matching green and pink frogs from Build-a-Bear they had made earlier in the day. He was wearing her favorite outfit on him: t-shirt, grey sweatpants, and his hair slightly out of place. On his end, she was wearing his favorite on her: one of his old merch shirts, tiny and barely visible shorts due to the shirt, those little lace babydoll styled socks, and her hair half tied up with a bow scrunchie. That was the moment he decided he was going to make her his officially; no more hiding. He watched her make dinner from his spot on the couch. ‘Now or never’ he decided to himself. He wrapped his arms around her waist as she finished up, “Can you grab the plates for me? You always put them too high up for me, silly.” He did what she asked and put them on the counter, then not taking his eyes off her as she plated everything. She could feel his gaze so she turned to look up at him, “Are you just gonna stand there?” He gripped her hips and pulled her closer, prompting her to put her smaller hands on his chest. “John, whaaat are you doing?” His voice dropped multiple octaves as he drew his face closer to hers, “Something I should have done a long time ago.” With that, he kissed her deeply. When she melted into it, she didn’t feel the normal lust and want behind it; she felt something different. When they parted, she looked up at him with those doe eyes that always had him wrapped around her finger in seconds. “You kiss me all the time, John. What do you mean ‘something you should have done a long time ago’?” For the first time, she was genuinely oblivious; not part of the act. “Y/N, I know we had one rule, but I knew you were special.” “What are you talking about?” He pushed a piece of hair behind her ear, “I mean I am in love with you. Not the superficial front you put up. You don’t have to act dumb around me. I know you want to be a designer and taken seriously. For the past few years, I grew to love everything about you. From the way you scrunch your nose up when I compliment you, which is why I started calling you bunny; to how excited you get when you beat me at something. The moment I saw you at Two Whales, I knew I needed to have you in my life. I know you say I already give you everything, but I want to give you the world and more. I love you Y/N. More than life.” Without speaking, she jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him with so much love behind it. She broke the kiss and they stared in each other’s eyes for a few seconds. “What do you say? Do me the honor of being my only and tell the world about my favorite girl?” Biting her lip, she nodded; “Words, baby.” “Yes John, of course I want to be yours.” He kissed her again and spun her around the kitchen in his arms as she giggled.

Cuddled up on the couch with both frogs in Y/N’s arms as she was in John’s, the two watched Human Resources until she looked up at him, “John?” “Yeah?” he replied looking down. “I love you. I just realized I didn’t say it before.” John smiled and kissed her forehead, “I love you too, bunny.” She also realized that she finally didn’t have to play bimbo anymore and he got to show off his smart girl to the world.

~~~~~~~

lovely taglist babes (dm or comment to be added) @josiewrites @rubyred1980 @chrisdickinson @xkennyxomegax

[mello-life25]

Chubby Chasers

MHA edition!

Ft. Midoriya, Bakugou, Kirishima, Denki, Sero

Genre: Fluff, maybe suggestive(?)

Pronouns: Intended he/him but they might not be mentioned

Warning: fluff, body worship(?), Nicknames, suggestive stuff, mentions of sex(?), (please tell me if I missed anything that should be added to the warnings)

Happy readings :]

- Midoriya that likes to hold your soft tummy while you guys cuddle

- he can not fall asleep unless he's holding you

- your hip dips and your thighs

- he loves it and when you wear his clothes, especially if it's over sized

- he will make you look in the mirror naked while he says all the things he loves about you and not just your body

- he will make you feel valid

- amazing boyfriend/husband material 10/10

- Bakugou who likes to squish your cheeks(upstairs and downstairs too if ya know what I mean ;})

- bakugou will rain hellfire on any person that says even the slightest rude thing about your body or... Anything for that matter

- We stan a protective bakugou 😎💅🏽

- he will be staring  respectfully if you decide to wear any shorts in the summertime even if it's just in the house he will be staring

- you'll feel eyes in you the whole day

- when you ask what he's staring at he’ll either make a snarky comment on you purposefully putting shorts on to get him riled up

- or he’ll blush and turn around to hide it saying it’s ‘nothing’

- Another man that will get a hard-on and blush so hard if he sees you in his clothes or Merch

- the way his sweater covers you like a blanket 😋

- and it feeds his ego that you're his and if you wear it outside he feels more pride that you show it off to others and let them know your take, at least that's how he sees it

- Kirishima who likes your chub soo much

- You're like his own personal cloud

- If you feel insecure he's another one that will take your clothes off and show you how much he loves you right in front of the mirror in your bedroom

- why you think he put it in there?

- if you come to him in his clothes he will call you manly

- “you look so manly babe”

- *cue flustered but happy kiri*

- but no deadass he will be so flustered, the way your curves fit so perfectly in his sweater and if you wear his pants he will die from the sight of seeing your pudge spill out it's so cute

- he will be another one to hold your chub while you guys cuddle or fall asleep

- and sometimes he’ll come up from behind you and while hugging you from behind he will hold your rolls and with such gentleness -v-

- He will make you feel like a king

- Denki will need to be touching you at all times

- ngl I head cannon Denki as touch starved for his s/o and when they chubby he will combust

- not that my other kings out there won't have a chance, we don't discriminate

- I also head cannon that mha boys like all the body types

- but back to Denki

- he is someone that will hold onto your chub and rolls no matter what like it's his comfort

- your stomach and thighs are probably his favorite body part

- he won't apologize for grabbing your chub, he will do it in public

-he probably has written a dojinshi with you and him

- and it was probably very hot

- he will ask you to squish his head with your thighs, saying that's how he wants to die

- with his head in-between your soft squishy thighs

- he would buy you some high-quality lace thigh highs for you to wear in the bedroom and he will almost cum untouched by the sight of your thighs

- and the way your chub spills off the sides 😫

- he might go stupid so don't break him

- He's into thigh fucking ☺️

- sero will worship you like your his god

- I mean like how couldn't he fall in love with you

- when your dating if you steal his clothes he will find it adorable

- you know his clothes won't fit you but you try anyways

- he’ll walk in after he's done with patrol and see you in his clothes

- basically half his closet in a pile on the floor

- and he sees you looking in the mirror with his shirt on and his pants

- it's pretty tight because of how skinny he is so it hugs all your curves

- it leaves almost nothing to the imagination

- your bulge is visible in the pants

- your tummy spills out

- he can see your rolls

- and all he's thinking is of how fiinnnee you look

- lookin like a whole snack

- yum :3

- he’ll wait on the door frame just looking at you and taking in your beauty

- you notice he's there when he says something

- “such a handsome boy”

- which makes you turn around so quick

- recognizing the voice or your boyfriend/husband

- he's just staring at you up and down

- you don't really know what to do so you kinda just stand there

- until you break out a small hi from your voice after a good minute of silence

- “...Hi Babe” 😅

End...Pt.2(?)

Hi guys! It's been a bit but I got some ideas today on some writings I could do so you might see some of that. I've just been going threw some writer's block fever along with art block so I haven't had any motivation or ideas in a while. But I'm back to give you some of this :}

I hope you all stay safe, drink water and have a amazing day ;]

-Yoshi

[shokobuns]

“𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭”

in which you slowly give into your desires.

PAIRING: maid!zenin maki x f!housewife!reader

GENRE: smut, some fluff, some angst, slowburn (ish)

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

WARNINGS: nsfw, 16+ smut, slowburn ish?, mentioned misogyny, infidelity, unhappy arranged marriage, angsty marriage, overstimulation, fingering, oral (f receiving), kitchen sex, sex in shared bed, face sitting/riding, 69, exhibitionism, squirting, light degradation, praise, pussy slapping, finger sucking, spit kink, consensual panty stealing, masturbation (f), first time for oral, slight corruption, implied dumbification, dom!maki. slight mommy kink, humiliation (kind of)

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, Honey.”

You peck your husband on the lips goodbye before he’s out the door with a briefcase in hand and his suit as neat as ever. Staring at the leftovers, you sigh before eventually picking up the plates and pilling them in the sink, scrubbing off the sticky mess of maple syrup. Soap suds cover up your gloves as you lather them in bubbly water and plan out the rest of your day. The dishes, the laundry, a few episodes of that one show you barely pay attention to, lunch, more dishes, more laundry, a start on dinner.

You can’t help but wonder — Is this it?

You love your husband, something you remind yourself repeatedly when he’s gobbling down on the rice on his dinner plate and when he’s leaving his dirty clothes all over your bedroom floor. You love him. You want to bear his children, want to raise them, want to do the chores so that he doesn’t. You want to cook, to clean, to do everything for the sake of his pleasure. It’s what your mother insisted, it’s what she did, and it’s what her mother did. You love your husband.

Is this it?

Twenty years old, a husband with a stable living, something that can suffice for the rest of your life. All you need is to do your chores, give him your body, be his prim and proper wife. It sounds fairly easy, another thing that your mother insisted, so what is it?

Why do you crave more? Why do you have to remind yourself that you love him, love this life at all?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on your door. When you open it, you’re met with the sight of a tall girl with glasses. She’s in a black maid dress that stops at her knees, complemented by the white apron that flows along with the part of the skirt, ruffling at the end. She has a bag hanging on her shoulder and her expression shows slight amusement at your surprise. Surely, she’s at the wrong house, right?

“Are you (Y/N)?”

“Y-Yes,” you stutter out, not realizing that you were staring, “Uh, w-who are you?”

“I’m Zenin Maki, but you can call me Maki,” she observes your figure, noticing the sly nervousness radiating off of your expression, “Your husband hired me. Said he wanted someone to help you out.”

“O-Oh.”

“May I come in?”

“Of course.” You move to the side, watching the woman scan your house. It’s slightly messy, a result of your husband not cleaning up after lounging in the living room, and she doesn’t waste time to clean it up, rearranging the decorative pillows and helping you carry the leftover dishes to the sink. Just as you’re about to put on your gloves, her hand comes out to grab your wrist and the other takes it out of your hand. “Don’t. I got this.”

You step back, watching Maki put on the gloves herself, lathering the dishes as you did before. You don’t know what to do, standing there awkwardly as she places them in the dishwasher. It’s a given opportunity to observe how her skirt stops right above her knee, flowing out naturally and modestly accentuating her body. Her headband compliments the look, her hair tied back with bangs covering up her forehead, stopping short of her glasses. Warmth creeps up your neck to your cheeks and you sharply look away, focusing your vision on the bowl of apples on the center of the dining table.

“You can rest, Miss. But I’m going to need help putting away the dishes later. Is that okay?” She asks and you turn around to give her a nod. “Is there anything else you need done?”

“Oh, no, it’s okay, you really don’t need to-”

“I was hired to help you out with chores. Please, do not worry about me.”

You sigh in defeat, looking directly at her face, her pretty face. She had a sharp expression, piercing eyes that can bore into your soul, defined cheekbones. A sensation of uneasiness rested in your lower belly and you realize you’re staring when she waves a hand over your face. “Hello? Miss?”

“S-Sorry! I was just thinking about something!”

“Oh. Well, I was just asking if you can help me put some of the dishes away just for today. I don’t know where everything is and I don’t like disorganization.”

“Of course. Of course.”

“You need anything else?”

“Folding the laundry, for now, I think? The clothes should be dry. Everything is upstairs.”

She follows behind you as you bring her out to the terrace where your laundry hangs on a string. Dresses, button ups, and ties of earth toned colors adorn the area and you touch the fabrics. The sun had definitely done its job. Maki is already setting up the ironing board that was previously laying in the corner of your bedroom and gathering your husband’s work attire together. When she’s done flattening the creases on the pieces of clothing, you take them, hanging and folding. With her help, you were finished in half the time it usually took you.

“Thank you, Maki. Really, I appreciate it.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Miss. Your husband hired me to do my job and I am happy to help.”

As you hang your last dress, you give her a smile.  

—

“Honey, I’m home!”

Your husband’s voice sounds throughout the house as he’s met with the sight of you and Maki laying out plating foods and placing them on the dinner table. He smiles and you walk towards him to greet him with a hug and a kiss. Maki continues with the task, sparing a glance at the both of you. “You didn’t tell me you hired a maid,” you whisper to your husband, “Though, she has been very helpful.”

“I’m glad, Honey.” He replies, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Kind of curious as to why you hired one in the first place.”

“I’ll tell you later. Let’s have dinner, alright?” He shoots you a grin before looking over to Maki. “Feel free to stay for dinner, Maki!”

“I’m alright. I should get going anyways—”

“Nonsense!” You husband eagerly responds, pulling out an extra chair just for her, “My dear wife here says you’ve been helpful.”

“I have classes.”

“Oh. Well you might as well take some home!” You suggest, walking over to your tupperware cabinet.

Before you go back to your husband, you plate some food for her to take home and make sure she makes it back to her car as she walks out the door. You let out an involuntary sigh, leaning against the doorway and feeling content that you now have an extra hand.

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Why do we need a maid?”

“Simple,” he grabs your hands from across the table, “I think we’re ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Ready to have kids, silly woman!” His laughter booms throughout the entire room, “I mean you’ll have to get off birth control and everything, but I think it’s time.”

You laugh nervously as he leans in for a kiss. “Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know about this.”

“What?” He stands up, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, “Why not?”

“I’m just kind of, uh, scared? I don’t know if I’m ready and we just got married a few months ago, you know?”

“Come on, don’t be scared,” he reassures you, kissing your cheek, “I hired Maki to be our maid to lay the stress off of you. I offered her an in-house job, which she’ll be starting next week, just so that you could rest easy while you’re pregnant.”

“In-house? Is she going to live with us?”

“Of course! She’s a college student, so she doesn’t mind getting paid and living in a house,” he explains before going back to the topic, “So please. I want you to have our baby. We can start tonight.” He suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.

“O-Okay.”

—

The next few days, the cycle continues.

Maki comes in the morning, usually just about right before your husband leaves for work, and she helps you throughout the day. Doing dishes, folding clothes, cleaning the bathroom. Most of the time you help her, usually against her will, but it leads to a calm and comforting silence when you work together. She’s moving in soon, two days to be exact, and you think it’s time to get to know a little bit about her.

One problem; She’s reserved, which intimidates you, and you’re too scared to start a conversation.

Eventually, you’re going to have to break the ice. So you do it as she’s ironing the clothes and you’re putting them away. You think up a few basic questions, mulling them over as to not make her uncomfortable because you want to get to know her.

“My husband tells me you’re in university right now. What’s your major?”

“Sports science.” She replies bluntly, continuing her task.

“Oh, cool cool,” you try to figure out a way to continue, but come up blank. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk.

“What do you do when your husband is not around?” She asks curiously, as if she sensed your desire to hold the conversation.

“Chores, usually,” you frown, “Sometimes I watch TV, but I wish I was able to do other stuff. I really like painting, too. But I haven’t done much of that ever since we got married.”

“Oh. Why not?”

“Well, I’ve always wanted to become an artist. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, but my family wanted stability for me so they introduced me to a family friend’s older son,” you smile, memories of your younger self filling up your head before a sense of sadness falls over your expression, “They said this would be good for me. And it is. My husband is a good man, I have a roof over my head and dinner on the table everyday, you know. I’m not complaining,” you pause, reeling out of your own thoughts, “Sorry if I just overshared.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” she reassures you, “Just out of curiosity, how old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“That’s funny, I’m twenty one.”

“You’re closer to my age than my husband,” you laugh, folding another white button up before placing it in a drawer, “We are in very different positions.”

“Yes, we are,” she chuckles, “A struggling college student and a cool housewife.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say cool—”

“Nonsense!” She grumbles, an attempt to mock your husband.

“Nonsense!”

“Nonsense!”

The both of you laugh and you realize how she seems almost angelic. The look in her eyes that was once piercing and intimidating was soft and heavenly. Her cheeks are flushed red and her smile was alluring. Before you even realize it, a feeling of warmth settles in your lower belly and it gets harder and harder to take your eyes off of her. Her chuckle was music to your ears and you’ve internally decided that it was one of your favorite sounds.

—

“Goodnight, Honey.”

He plants a kiss on your sweaty forehead before turning his back towards you, opting to hug a pillow on the side instead. Everything is wet, sticky, and gross, but before you can say anything, your husband is already fast asleep, little snores filling the air of the master bedroom. You lay down for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling in the dark until you gather up the last of your willpower to get up and clean the mess between your legs.

It was an okay night.

Sure, you came, but it was just boring. There was nothing to it, only the huffs and groans and praises from your husband as he lived out his fantasy of finally being able to breed you. You’re happy to provide him, as long as it makes him happy, because he loves you and you love him. Even if you have to clean up the mess yourself, even if you don’t finish, even if that rush of loving emotion that everyone seems to describe never hits you.

You’re happy.

That’s what you tell yourself anyways. Yet, your fingers rub furiously on your clit while the other pumps in and out of your dripping cunt. You’re close and you pretend that it’s her fingers You pretend that it’s her fingers that you’re clenching around, her mouth leaving soft kisses from your neck down to your exposed breasts. You pretend that you’re tugging on dark hair, asking for more, but when you come down from your high, the ringing in your ears stops suddenly and the snores overtake your hearing once again.

Maki.

It’s wrong, disgustingly wrong, but there’s no way to escape her. Not when she’s in your house in the morning, the afternoon, and the evening. She helps with everything, things that you didn’t even consider yourself, talks to you about the things you like. And you know that her favorite color is black, her family would have much rather preferred if she went the same route you did, and she likes junk food a little too much.

You also wonder when you should tell your husband that you definitely have not gone off those pills.

—

“Miss?”

“Yes?” You respond, a grocery bag in your arms filled with different fruits, vegetables, and meat. Although you've made a few additions to your list and you were unsure at first, but as Maki empties it, her eyes light up at the sight of the bright little bag.

“You got chips?”

“Well, yeah. They’re for you. I know you liked them.”

She beams at you and it’s almost blinding. There’s an odd flutter in your stomach and you ignore it, but it only becomes stronger when she rips open the bag and munches on the whole thing in seconds. The small satisfied moan from the first bite has you internally celebrating. She looks at peace. All she’s doing is eating a bag of her favorite chips, yet it fills you with some unexplainable feeling of warmth. You make another mental note to buy even more next time.

—

“What do you think of him?”

“Who?” She asks, sitting up on the couch as she watches you get lost on the canvas in front of you.

“My husband.”

“Oh,” she pauses, her hand coming from under her chin to think, “He’s pretty cool, I guess. He also pays me which is pretty cool, you know.”

“Come on, I won’t tell him,” you insist, coming close, your hands involuntarily brushing over hers. She doesn’t pull them away, letting you rest them, enjoying the extra warmth.

“I mean, he’s a man, alright.”

“What does that even mean?”

“No offense,” she continues, finding the least rudest way to say it, “He’s kind of basic, you know? Which isn’t bad but he yells at the TV when watching football, has you light his cigarettes, and waits for you to serve him food. Just your typical husband things, I guess.”

“Are you saying my husband is boring?” You ask with a stoic face, watching the fear fill her eyes.

“No, no! That’s not what I—”

“Kidding,” you chuckle as she purses her lips before joining along, “I was just curious.”

“Well, why?”

“I don’t know,” you say, sighing as you think of all the times he did anything romantic for you, “He’s a good man, you know that, right?”

“Well, of course.”

“He brings me flowers, gives me goodnight kisses, tells me he loves me, but—” you pause, afraid to finish the thought. Your heart pounds at the mess of ideas on your mind and you’re ashamed, “I don’t know if I feel that love thing those people always talk about.”

“What do you mean?”

She’s intrigued to say the least. You’re fiddling your thumbs with a nervous smile on your face. All the while, the music you put on fades in the background until it’s only the two of you, hearts beating fast, blood rushing to your cheeks. When you finally look her in the eye, she doesn’t miss how glassy they look and that’s when her suspicions are confirmed without a verbal sentence — you’re unsure.

“He- Well, I don’t know. Forget I said anything about it,” you clasp your hands together before getting back to work in the kitchen, “And please, don’t tell him.”

Uncertainty, you’re most definitely full of it, but Maki is almost sure she’s figured it out before you have and she likes to think that she’s gotten to know you. She’s picked up how you play with your fingers when you’re unsure, how you smooth down your dress when you try to keep your composure, how that your smile loses genuinity while you’re at the dinner table. She decides it’s not her business, she’s only the housemaid and you’re just the housewife she works under.

But she’ll always be there for you with open arms if you need it.

—

“We gotta make breakfast, Maki.” You poke her side, waking her up from a deep sleep.

You’re already ready for the day, the top half of your hair already tied in a bun and a lilac colored dress adorning your figure. She’s caught off guard when she opens her eyes and you’re sitting up on the side of the bed poking at her hip. Her vision is blurry without her glasses, but she can clearly smell the sweet scent of vanilla perfume. Taking in a deep breath, she sits up, too, reaching for her glasses on the bedside table.

And her sleek, black hair cascades down her shoulders, though it’s slightly messy, you’re tempted to run your fingers through the soft looking strands. You’ve seen Maki in her maid uniform at home, jeans when she goes out to shop, but the sight of her in a satin night dress was different and your breath hitches when the blanket falls off the upper half of her body. It’s a loose fit and she looks absolutely ethereal, almost like an angel.

She turns her head to the side and you fake cough, trying to make up for staring a little too long. “I know your day doesn’t start yet, but I was hoping to get some help on breakfast today. Is that alright with you?”

“Of course, Miss. I’ll go get ready right now.

“Cool.”

You walk down to the kitchen, preparing a pie crust for your quiche and reading through the recipe you were given by a friend. By the time you blind bake the crust, Maki joins you in her usual attire. “Need anything, Miss?”

“While the quiche is baking, I just need you to make some cookie dough. Just the usual, my family is coming over later.”

“Of course.”

She gets to work right away, finding the ingredients immediately as you fill up your empty pie crust and dance around the kitchen. Right after the quiche is placed in the oven, your hips sway along with the music that plays in the radio. It’s all soft and slow, Maki smiling at your antics while you jokingly attempt to serenade her. She’s mixing in the chocolate chips into the dough and you walk forward, energetic and lost in the song.

You don’t think much of it when you grab her hip and your faces come closer together. One second, you were playfully dancing around your kitchen and the next, your breaths mingle, the gap between the two of you closing. It’s her who decides to lean forward, soft lips meeting together, your back suddenly meeting the edge of the counter. Her hands rest on the surface, each on either side of you, and her lips taste like cherries. Your hands come up to her cheeks as your mouths meld together until it’s hard to breathe.

You pull away first, remembering that your husband is still sleeping upstairs. “What are we doing?”

“Don’t know,” she replies, her hand starting to trail under the skirt of your dress, “It feels right, though.”

“Should we stop?” You mutter, just barely enough for her to hear.

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

It gives her the extra rush of courage to get under your dress and push your body until your back is flat on the counter. Luckily, there was nothing underneath except for a pair of plain black panties, a damp spot right in the middle. Her thumb presses on your clothed clit and by the way your body squirms she knows you’re sensitive which only adds to the sadistic fun of pulling down your underwear at an agonizingly slow pace. “Need you,” you breathe out, your legs being positioned on her shoulders, “I need you, please.”

“I got you, Baby. Don’t worry.” She replies with a smile, her breath hitting your wet cunt.

Your breath hitches as her tongue trails up from your hole up to your sensitive pearl and she moans at the sweet taste of your arousal. Her hands keep a firm grip on your thighs, holding them open as you bite your lip to contain your moans. He’s right upstairs, you think, but any thought of caution starts to leave you once her soft lips wrap around your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves causing your knuckles to turn white as they grab onto the edge of the counter.

Your husband has never touched you like this. Ever.

The feeling of her mouth is foreign, but welcome. Before you know it, the grip on one of your thighs loosen and two fingers slip into your soaked cunt. She’s gentle at first, the pumps of her digits ever so delicately pressing against your g spot, but once you hike up the skirt of your dress and thread your fingers through her hair, she speeds up, hitting hard and fast. “M-Maki— Shit!”

You squeal when her tongue starts massaging your clit and your walls clench despite being empty, “Such a pretty girl,” she coos, watching in awe at how your slick coats her fingers, “Such a pretty pussy.”

Lewd praises and squelches fill the kitchen air as the coil in your stomach builds and snaps until your cunt is gushing all over her. Your back arches as you reach your high and she leaves a trail of kisses from your thigh to your sopping pussy. Bringing her fingers to your mouth, she gives you one command.

“Suck.”

You obey, wrapping your soft lips around her digits, swirling your tongue and she gives a graceful smile, brushing a thumb over your flushed cheeks. A sheen of sweat covers your forehead, but the sound of footsteps brings you out of your thoughts. Maki pockets your underwear, giving you a wink, before washing her hands and taking the nearly forgotten quiche out of the oven.

By the time you hear the footsteps of your husband, you’re decent, minimal signs of physical exertion just barely noticeable. She’s going through her usual routine of plating your food in front of the two of you, doing the dishes, laundry, everything. You want to say something, you really do, and you’re left with your own questions.

At night, you’re left pondering the strong women with silky black hair whilst in the arms of your husband.

—

Two days.

That’s how long it’s been since you’ve gotten the most mind blowing orgasm of your life. Your panties are still missing, though you don’t mind knowing who has them. And when you think about the things your mother has told you repeatedly about your perfectly structured life, it crumbles with each second. When you look at the face next to you, the indifference in your heart starts to become more and more prominent.

And even though you should feel guilty — well, you do — you also don’t regret it at all.

You still do your chores as expected, make the bed, cook dinner. You still organize the laundry, do the dishes, and tend to your rose garden. You still disinfect, fold, and have sex with your husband who’s indifferent to your pleasure every night. Almost every domestic activity was accompanied by Maki, who often sought to take over or help.

Yet, she wouldn’t even look at you.

She wouldn’t say anything that didn’t pertain to a grocery list or a command and it was infuriating. Still, you were determined to bring it up — how could you not? As you fold blankets on the couch and think, you call out her name. “Maki?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Are we going to talk about what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

Your heart drops a tiny bit, it was an expected response based on the fact it felt like she was avoiding you, but you still had to swallow the lump in your throat. “Nevermind. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” She asks as you’re looking down on the rug, trying to focus on the pattern instead of the woman in front of you.

“I’m just sorry I brought it up. I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry that we did whatever that was,” you take a deep breath as forming tears blurred your vision, “I’m sorry that I can’t fucking do this, Maki. I don’t love him. I can’t love him.”

She sighs, scooching forward and closer to you then pulling the half folded blanket from your hands. “You shouldn’t be sorry. This was my fault.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“You’re just, I’m just—” you inhale again, trying to find the right words to say, “You’re different. You’re different from him in all the best ways. You listen to what I have to say, you care about how I feel.”

“That’s something that any good friend would do—”

“I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Oh.”

She brings her fingers to your chin, nudging your head up until you’re looking her in the eyes for the first time in days. She gazes at you, appreciating every curve and every mark on your skin. You take this as an opportunity to lean in, planting a soft kiss on her lips. She doesn’t stop it, instead indulging in the act, cupping your cheeks.

It soon becomes hungry, her tongue slipping past your lips, you being rolled over onto your back as she slips her hand under your floral dress. She presses a finger against your clothed cunt, causing you to gasp and throw your head back. At the same time she leaves sloppy kisses on the exposed skin of your neck and you struggle to form a coherent sentence.

“M-Maki, stop,” you whimper and she pauses, “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Oh?” She smirks, giving you another breathless kiss, “Wanna put that mouth to use, Baby?”

“Yeah,” you breath out, “Wanna make you feel good, Mommy.”

Her expression is filled with pride as she drags her fingers across your face and into your mouth. You comply with the silent command, wrapping your lips around the digits and sucking softly, swirling your tongue around them. “Good girl.”

You let out a hum while she discards her panties somewhere on the ground and her bare cunt hovers over your face. It’s intimidating, yet the sight of her glistening folds makes you wet. All you wanted to do was taste her, drink up all of her juices, and when you finally do you can’t get enough. Despite the lack of experience, you do what you think would feel good, giving experimental licks, noting when her body twitched and when she would let out a saccharine moan.

“Fuck — you’re doing so well,” she coos, carding her fingers through your hair, admiring the sight of your half lidded eyes and the feel of your tongue, “You sure this is your first time eating pussy?”

You hum in response which sends vibrations throughout her body, causing her to throw her head back. You grip onto her lower back, desperately bringing her wet cunny closer to yourself and she rolls her hips, grinding herself on your mouth. You’re already addicted, lapping at all of the cum she has to offer, watching intently as her mouth forms an o shape and she soaks the lower half of your face.

“Such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?”

She gets off your face and you smile with pride, tugging off the rest of her maid uniform until she’s completely bare in your living room. Every curve of her body fills you with even more lust and you’re sure your panties are soaked just from the sight. Her thighs are defined, muscular even, and you kiss them before going back to her ruined pussy, lapping at all the slick.

“You’re so pretty, Maki,” you utter, your breath hitting her neck as you come back up to her face.

She pushes you backward until you’re flat on your back, pinning your wrists together before ripping off your panties. Maki wastes no time, two fingers entering your hole and curling with every thrust. “You got this wet from eating me out?” She questions cockily, leaving an open mouthed kiss on the shell of your ear along with a nibble, “You’re a cute little thing, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you whimper in between breaths, “Feels s’good.”

“Yeah?” She responds, watching you come undone underneath her.

Your orgasm builds up with every pump, the coil in your stomach tightening. She fastens the pace, every movement being calculated, her fingers knuckles deep in your cunt. Her fingertips manage to brutally hit the spongy spot inside of you, causing your legs to shake. Your back arches when her lips wrap around your clit, the simultaneous stimulation making your body tremble in delight. You’re gushing all over her fingers and she stares in awe as your slick drips down your thighs.

“Can we go to the bedroom?” You request meekly, barely recovering from your last orgasm.

“Of course, Baby,” she beams at you, body gleaming with a sheen of sweat, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Maki picks you up bridal style with almost no effort, pressing kisses all over your face on the way upstairs. When you finally get to the bedroom, she lays you down gently, almost as if you were a delicate piece of glass. But the moment of soft intimacy doesn’t last.

It doesn’t last when her pussy hovers over your face with her head buried in between your legs, licking hot stripes on your folds, sucking on your pearl while her fingers brush on your legs before finding their way back to your ruined cunt. Your tongue presses on her slit and her hips lower until your mouth is full of pussy. Her sweet taste is addicting and concurrent moans only heighten the pleasure, vibrations shooting through both of your bodies. Her thumb circles your clit furiously as she pulls away from your cunt to speak.

“You like this, don’t you? Ain’t this the same bed where you get fucked by your husband?” She questions demandingly, slapping your cunny.

You whine into her cunt, the sudden pain causing your walls to clamp around nothing. She laughs sadistically, pinching your clit, biting at your inner thighs.

“S’good, such a good little slut,” she coos, her nose tickling your clit as her face inches closer, “Bet you like getting fucked by your maid, don’t you?”

You can only respond with a squeal, her hand laying another blow to your aching pussy. “Don’t worry, pretty girl. I got you.” She reassures you, mouth ravaging your cunt, slurping every drop of cum you had to offer. She’s close to her own orgasm, you can tell by the way she rides your face, soaking the lower half until the sweet droplets slide down your neck. You massage her clit with your tongue as she comes down from her high, but after yours, she doesn’t stop.

Instead, she continues to feast on your cunt like a starved woman, the pressure in your stomach building for the nth time that day. Coming again almost hurts, but she ignores the high pitched wails spilling from your lips, the sounds only encouraging her to keep sucking until your body trembles. At this point, you’re light headed, vision gradually becoming blurry. Your walls are pulsating, your mind is unable to process everything at once.

Especially the shocked man who stands in the doorway of your bedroom.

And at that exact moment, you let out a sob as Maki sadistically looks your husband right in the eye, her mouth still devouring your overstimulated cunny with fervor. Your hole leaks milky white, staining your shared sheets and you cry out her name, hopelessly gripping onto the plush of her ass for stability, digging your nails into the flesh. When she pulls away, a string of spit connects from her mouth to your pearl and her pupils are blown, cheeks covered with your arousal, all the while maintaining eye contact with him.

As if there was no one in the room, she readjusts her until her face hovers over yours, her swollen pussy present on your thigh.

“Open.”

You comply readily and she grabs your face with one hand, squishing your wet cheeks so hard that they start to ache.

“Good girl.”

She spews into your mouth, watching the blob as it glides down your tongue and you swallow obediently before she comes down for a sweet kiss. The taste of yourself makes your head dizzy with lust. Let it be known that the horrified figure standing in the doorway could never make you feel as good as the maid.  

Oops.

© this is a work of @crybabygumi, all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my work on other platforms.

[keijislove]

Hi babe! I was wondering if I could request a Tony Stark x daughter reader? With lots of angst and her being locked in her room because she’s being bullied for her darker skin

(I understand if you’re not comfortable with this)

Safe Place: Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader

I think this turned out a bit longer than I expected.

Sorry :(

I hope you like this, I don’t really have a lot of experience with this matter, so I hope I captured the emotions right!

I AM APOLOGISING IN ADVANCE, THE HURTFUL COMMENTS MENTIONED HERE ARE NOT ONES I WOULD EVER USE IN MY LIFETIME.

GIRL, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL JUST THE WAY YOU ARE – YOU DON’T NEED DIMWITS LIKE RACISTS TO DEFINE BEAUTY. YOU WANT THE DEFINITION OF BEAUTY, GO LOOK IN THE MIRROR.

PUT A STOP TO RACISM.

WARNINGS: Slight EXTREMELY racial comments, mentions of death, toxic relationship, angst, Tony being a little... well, Tony.

Being Tony Stark’s daughter was nearly everyone’s dream. Well, everyone you’d come across at school, anyway. It seemed rational from their point of view – big house, big bedroom, expensive branded clothing, basically an overall exquisite lifestyle coupled with fame of being his daughter which was sure to earn popularity points anywhere and everywhere. A man rolling in that amount of money would make a great dad... right?

You thought differently. Which was one of the main reasons you did not tell anyone who your father really was and your teachers understood your predicament and played along to your story of being an ordinary girl with no scope for coolness whatsoever.

Your mother had met your father a long, long time ago – when Tony was still in university. Of course, he’d left her before he even knew she was pregnant, and they never saw each other again. You didn’t exactly love your life as his daughter. In fact, from what your mother had told you, he was (in your vision) a complete monster whom your mother had the sad misfortune to meet.

It was her untimely death that had forced you to go live with the man who was the reason you were born and the man who ruthlessly left your mother to fend for herself and a baby. You had tried for foster care, but the agents told you that your father was still alive and more than capable of taking care of you – being the famous Tony Stark and all.

So it would suffice to say that Tony was lowkey shocked when you turned up at his doorstep one day with a grudging expression and declarations of being his daughter. He actually didn’t believe you at first and asked you to piss off which confirmed your earlier assumptions about his character – asshole. After you’d snapped at him and showed him all the legal documentations stating that you two were blood-related as father-daughter after all, Tony was even more shocked than earlier.

Though he would rather die than admit it, he felt sad after seeing your fourteen-year-old self standing at his doorstep. He’d missed your birth, your first steps, your first words, he even missed helping you with homework in preschool – basically all precious moments you enjoy with a child. But you made it pretty clear that you didn’t want to be here – something that made Tony’s already overlarge pride swell like a bullfrog and stopped him from ever getting close to you. While you were busy thinking he didn’t want you, you overlooked a small detail – he took you in.

If anyone had the power to bribe an adoption agency to get rid of their kid, it was Anthony Stark, yet he never gave you away. The simple explanation (that he would never, in a million years, admit it to you) was that he didn’t want to lose you – around the only blood-related family he had left.

And so began your life as Y/N Stark. It functioned surprisingly well for your expectations. Pepper was really nice to you and those few occasions when the Avengers came over, you were able to talk to Natasha about ‘girl things’, her presence reminding you of the mother you had lost only too young. You sometimes even asked Bruce for help with homework, too proud yourself to go to Tony. Overall, you stayed out of his way while he stayed out of yours – an arrangement you were both satisfied with.

The worst part was that you never talked. Ever. You would wake up and walk to school, refusing Jarvis’ continued protests of letting you use the self-driving car, came home the same way where you did your homework and grabbed a snack before you ‘father’ came back upstairs from his little man cave in the basement and a small ‘good-evening’ passed between you two as you went your separate ways. This cycle repeated itself every day. Recently, your life at school hadn’t been going great.

You’d known that your skin tone was a notch darker than the others at your school – something you had gotten from your mother – and this was not something you really cared about. That’s when they started coming – the comments. What were originally small, snide retorts of ‘wash your face, ew!’ (A/N: I AM SO SORRY) had now escalated to them calling you obscene names you’d never heard before and asking you to leave ‘their’ school

Which was why, instead of being at school today, you were locked in your bedroom, sobbing into your pillow.

It had started out as a very unusual morning. After getting comments hurled at you left right and centre the previous day, you’d had enough. You’d woken up and declared to Jarvis that you were skipping school and he was to, under no circumstances, notify your father about this. After that you tried to eat some cereal, but the bubbling dread in your stomach made it taste like dry carpet, so you gave up and stomped into your room, locking the door before flinging yourself onto the bed and crying your heart out.

It was in times like these that you felt the need for something – a gaping hole in your chest. It seemed foolish to even admit it to yourself, but you really wanted someone like a parent. Someone who listened to your problems and comforted you accordingly, someone who actually cared about you. And since Tony Stark filled neither of these requirements, you gave up the foolish dream and sunk, once again, into your self-fashioned depths of misery.

-------

Tony casually sipped on his wine, putting one last screw into place to make the latest piece he was testing out. As he powered the device on, it vibrated for a moment before the words ‘model failed’ appeared on the screen Tony was examining.

He swore loudly and shoved it ungracefully aside before running his hands through his hair. There had been many an occasion where Tony seriously considered going to your room to just say something to you that wasn’t a monotonous ‘good evening’ or ‘the milk’s finished’ or something else like that. He wanted to talk to you. To you.

He wanted to get to know the real Y/N – what you were like when you weren’t too busy being bold and refusing to appear vulnerable. As if reading his thoughts, Jarvis’ voice filled the room suddenly.

“Sir, I do believe that Ms Stark is currently locked inside her bedroom. She refused to go to school just this morning.”

“What?” Tony exclaimed, “Why, did she tell you anything else?”

“Just this, Sir, along with a few obscene warnings of not informing you about this occurrence. If I recall correctly, Ms Stark told me she would rip out my sockets with her bare hands had I come to you.”

Ignoring the small smirk that was growing on his lips at the thought of you behaving exactly as he would, Tony wiped his tired hands on a nearby cloth before sprinting out the door and up the stairs to your bedroom.

He knocked on the door.

“Go away Pepper, not in the mood,” came your muffled voice. It was weak and raw – evidently, you had been crying.

Ignoring the poking feeling of dread bubbling in his stomach, Tony knocked again.

“Open up, kid, it’s me,” he shouted.

“Definitely not in the mood, thanks.”

Tony sighed. This was exactly what he had tried so hard to avoid –turning out like his own father. Not knowing how to deal with a daughter properly, he just let you go about your business as you wanted, hoping that it would yield better results than what his childhood had been like. Now, looking back at how much he’d neglected you, he suddenly realised that he had done the exact thing he was afraid of – hurt you.

“Y/N Y/M/N Stark, open the door. Please.”

Perhaps it was the please at the end or the way he acknowledged you as his living, breathing daughter for the first time that made you stagger limply over to the door and push it open.

Your eyes were puffy, red and swollen from bawling nonstop and your brows were knitted into a disapproving frown. It broke Tony’s heart to see you like this.

“Listening,” you sniffed, crossing your arms.

“Okay, why don’t you sit down,” Tony frowned slightly.

You gave another hearty sniff and led him to your bed where you flopped down and watched as he took a seat beside you.

You both sat in a very painful, deafening silence for the next few minutes.

“You didn’t go to school today,” Tony casually remarked as you played with your pillow, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I did,” you said simply.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” Tony offered.

“I really don’t,” you admitted as he burst out laughing and you gave a grudging giggle despite yourself.

“Seriously, kid,” Tony said in an undertone, “You’ve gotta open up a bit more. I mean, it’s been like what, two years since you moved here and you never bother telling me what’s going on. And look where that got you – come on, tell me what’s going on. Is it school?”

“Partially,” you quietly said to which he cocked an eyebrow.

“Completely,” you amended, sighing, “Kids, you know, they’re just being – well, mean.”

“Okay,” Tony nodded slightly, “You want to talk about it?”

“They... they make fun of me,” you admitted, “About – about my skin colour and stuff. And I know I’m being stupid, getting upset over this –”

“It’s not stupid,” Tony broke in, “It’s not stupid at all. Nothing gives anyone a right to talk to you that way.”

“Try telling that to them!” you burst out, final letting go of the pent-up emotions you’d been holding for days, “What did I ever do to them – it’s not my fault I look like this, maybe if I could choose what to look like, I’d choose something they want! Just about everyone seems to have a problem – what the hell do they expect me to do? It’s unjust, unfair, unsettling and unkind, but of course they don’t care, do they?!”

Tony didn’t even flinch throughout your entire outburst until you broke down and tears began rapidly pouring out of your eyes once more.

“Hey, hey, stop, listen to me,” Tony sternly said, seizing your shoulders and turning you to face him.

“You’re a Stark,” he said, gazing you dead in the eyes, “You are beautiful, you’re smart and you’re kind. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

This was too much for you to handle and you started sobbing again – sobs of partial happiness and partial guilt that didn’t look like they would stop anytime soon.

“Come here, kid,” was all Tony could say as he pulled you into a hug, allowing you to sob into his shirt while he stroked your hair, trying to calm you down.

“I’m sorry if I’ve ever been mean to you,” you whispered finally.

“It’s okay, kid,” Tony murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’m sorry I haven’t been a great father all this time.”

You two sat in a now comfortable silence, occasionally clearing your throats or sniffling a bit before Tony finally spoke.

“If anyone says that to you again, I will have them cut up and fed to the fish in my house in Malibu.”

“Thanks, dad.”

[trashyreptilian]

18th birthday, September 9th 1992.

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

Author's Note: So before you read this, keep in mind that this is me in unfamiliar waters when it comes to writing fanfic. Unlike drawing, I am very much a beginner. Also, this one-shot is based off an AU of The Mandela Catalogue that I made, "Best Friend" AU. The basic gist of it is that a human and an alternate are besties, that's it.

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

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, physical abuse, alcoholic parents and trauma.

Characters: Mark Heathcliff (he/him), Him (it/its) and Sarah Heathcliff (she/her)

Summary: It’s Mark’s 18th birthday, an important day but not in the way you’d expect. Having had enough of his abusive alcoholic mother, he’s ready to leave the house. But something seems to be getting in the way. (Word count: ~2 500)

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

Mark woke up to the sound of his alarm clock. He begrudgingly reached over it to turn it off, he could barely lift his arm up. He kept hitting it until it stopped buzzing. It was 3 p.m., he overslept again. Couldn't care less. Contemplating whether he should get up or not, he looked over his calendar hanging across the room.

Saturday, September 9th, his 18th birthday. After so many years, the day had finally come. Today was important. However, it wasn't because it was his birthday. No, his past birthdays were all the same. Boring, uneventful, and honestly, quite sad. As the years went by, his family cared less and less until they all probably forgot about it altogether. Isn't it depressing that the only people who ever gave a damn about my birthday were my two ONLY friends? One of them isn't even human, and yet, it shows more love than any of my family members.

Mark let out a sigh and got up from his bed. He put on the same clothes that he's been wearing for a week, a grey hoodie, and black jeans. He left his bedroom and walked downstairs to the kitchen. The sound of him pouring a bowl of cereal was all he could hear. His mother and sister must have gone somewhere. That was confirmed when he looked through the window to see one of the cars missing. The house was all to him, so he rushed back upstairs, spilling his overdue breakfast along the way. He stopped above the disappearing attic stairs; it was above his bedroom door. Every minute wasted is a minute that his friend had to stay cramped inside that attic. He knocked on the wall, waiting for a response. The silence was broken by the sound of faint knocking coming from the ceiling. He eagerly pulled down the attic stairs and climbed up.

The attic was filled with useless garbage. Stacks of cardboard boxes, old damaged furniture, and other stuff he couldn't make out in the darkness. It was almost impossible for anybody to come up here. The perfect hiding place. Mark tried to get in, despite all of the clutter in the way. He looked around the room but the dim light coming from downstairs was barely enough for him to see anything clearly. As he was about to say something, he suddenly felt something touching his shoulders. Long black fingers were protruding. He could hear familiar heavy breathing behind him. He felt it leaning forward, right up to his left ear.

"Happy Birthday, Mark..." Him whispered.

Mark couldn't help but smile. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack, dude? Come on, the house is empty."

He climbed down the attic stairs and Him followed him soon after. They went downstairs to the living room. Mark sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. Nothing interesting was on until he turned on the news. Another alternate encounter was reported in the Mandela County. Before hearing anything else, he swiftly switched over to a different channel. He really wasn't in the mood to listen to an encounter again, seemed like a weekly occurrence at this point. Mark looked at his bowl that he had been holding and the cereal had become soggy. Completely inedible. He put it down on the coffee table. He glanced over at Him who's been sitting next to him. He noticed that it was holding something. Is that a present?

"Whatcha got there?" Mark pointed at the box.

Him got startled a bit, seemed like it forgot it had that. It quickly gave the box to Mark and tapped on the top of it as a sign to open it. The visible gaps in the wrapping kind of gave away what the gift was. Although with those elongated fingers, Mark was surprised that it even managed to wrap it up in the first place.

"I've said this before and I'll say it again, you don't have to get me anything for my birthday." Mark stated as he was opening the gift. "But I mean...I still appreciate it."

It was a brand new SNES. A game console that he had his eyes on since its announcement last year. "Holy shit, okay." His smile grew wider and he desperately tried to hide it. "Alright." He laughed. "Be honest with me, how do you get these gifts for me every year?"

Before Him could say anything, Mark interrupted. "And you better not say the same bullshit again every time I ask, that "it doesn't matter"."

It donned a shit-eating grin. "I'm sure you've already figured out how I get them..."

Yeah, it stole them. There's was no other way. He didn't care though and brushed it off with a chuckle. "Well, thanks anyway. I love this." He examined the packaged console. "I guess we won't be so bored in our apartment after all."

Him tilted its head and Mark stood up. "That's right, I actually found an apartment for the both of us. It sure as hell wasn't fucking easy with me being seventeen but one landlord was willing to make an exception." His heart started to pound faster. "Can you believe it? After so many years, feeling trapped in this house with that alcoholic cunt, I can finally leave. I have no reason to stay here" His hands began to shake and his throat tightened.

Him could sense Mark's uneasiness, it got up to comfort him. Mark backed away and took a deep breath. "Look I'm fine, it's nothing." Tucking away his hands in his pockets "...Just a little excited, you know?"

It wasn't convinced in the slightest and by the look on its face, he made it more worried. God, I hate it when he looks at me like that. Mark turned away. "The sooner we leave, the better... Tonight, when everyone is asleep, we're getting out of here. I've already packed my stuff yesterday."

Him placed its hand on Mark's shoulder. He looked back. "If there's anything you have to take, you should give it to me so I can pack it. I don't want us making a ruckus while we're leaving."

.

.

Nine hours passed; it was pitch black outside. Mark made sure that everyone was sleeping. Any subtle noises could have ruined it all. As he was ready to start up the car, he realized something. "Shit..." He exasperatedly sighed. "I forgot some stuff. Wait here, I'll be quick." He left Him and rushed over to the door.

He made his way to the kitchen to grab some food. Canned and frozen were good enough for now. I don't think they'll mind me stealing some of these. Nobody eats them anyway. Once that was done, sudden footsteps were approaching. Fuck, did somebody hear me? Mark thought before hiding. Goddammit, why did I have to go back in here? It was silent again. He wasn't sure who woke up or where they went, but he had to leave. Taking the risk, he headed for the door.

In the darkness, somebody was blocking him. "What the hell are you doing?" It whispered, bewildered. He recognized that voice. "Sarah?"

"Yeah, it's me, where are you going?!" Sarah's voice raised a bit this time.

"I'm...Uh..." There's was no easy way out of this. "I'm going to a party?" His eyes shifted and he started scratching the back of his head.

"Liar...I saw your room; half of your stuff is gone!" She almost shouted but Mark shushed her. "Are you leaving us?"

Hearing that made his stomach turn. "I don't have time for this, Sarah. Please, we'll talk about it tomorrow." He reached for the door handle but Sarah pushed him away. "No! I just don't understand..." She paused. "Why are you leaving?"

Mark had a good reason to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. "It's not like you'd understand anyway. Just get out of my way."

"Wouldn't understand?! You know, I WOULD understand if you actually talked to me for once!" She said in a frustrated tone.

Mark couldn't help but scoff at her when he heard that. "Yeah? You want to play the innocent one here? Guess what? I TRIED to reach out to you, I tried talking to you but you'd push me aside! Whenever I'd talk to you about our parents and what I was feeling, you'd dismiss it as me overreacting or being crazy!" His breathing got heavier, so many bad memories resurfaced.

A moment of silence had passed before Sarah answered. "Don't tell me this is because of our mother..."

"You have no idea what she's like, you have no fucking idea... Who do you think she lets her anger onto?" Mark felt his eyes watering, his heart pounded out of his chest.

Sarah tried to console Mark but he smacked her hand away. "Don't you dare touch me." Why is she only now trying to comfort me? She's a little too late for that. He glared at her. "Mark..." Sarah stepped back. "I'm...I'm sorry...But please, don't leave me..."

He couldn't bare to look at her. "I can't... I can't keep living like this. Not here. Not with her." His hands began to shake again. "I don't hate you, Sarah. I really don't. But you weren't there for me when I needed you...So what's the point of me staying?"

Sarah's mouth opened but no words came out. "I have to go." Mark reached for the door handle once more, Sarah moved aside this time; he slammed the door behind him.

A cool breeze brushed Mark's face, ruffling his hair. He took a moment to recollect himself before heading to his car. He didn't bother saying what took him longer than expected, instead he started the engine and drove off.

Not a single word was spoken the entire trip. Mark tried to take his mind off what had happened, yet he couldn't. Maybe I should have told her sooner. Was it really a good idea to leave her there? She might not want to see me ever again after this and I didn't even say goodbye. It got harder to keep his eyes on the road. He nearly missed the street he was supposed to turn to.

Once they arrived at their new place, Mark felt some sort of relief. The building was located in one of the sketchier neighborhoods but it was closer to his high school. "Well, here we are." He unfastened his seat belt and turned to look at Him. "Let's carry as much shit that we can, I think I’ll pass out if I don't get some shut-eye soon." Both of them grabbed what they could and Mark led the way. There was no elevator, so they had to use the stairs. They were lucky that nobody had seen them.

Mark unlocked the door to his apartment. Their new home was a cheap single bedroom apartment with a small living room combined with the kitchen. The first thing that stood out was the wallpaper. Him had already begun to examine everything and it noticed how easily tear-able it was. A weird stench came from it, possibly mold. A lot of the furniture left behind there were in pretty bad shape. One window was their only light source.

"This place is a shithole..." Him muttered to itself.

"I heard that." Mark tried to sound offended but he couldn't stop himself from laughing.

"Listen, this is the best that I can afford, okay? If you wanna go back to that attic then be my guest. I'm going to bed." Mark flopped down onto his mattress.

He changed into his usual sleeping attire and buried his face into his pillow, letting out an exhausted sigh. It's done, this is where I live now. He thought. Him doesn't have to hideout days on end anymore. I mean, if I ever call Cesar over, it's gonna have to hide then. He turned over to look at the window. Faint sounds of falling raindrops filled the room. He peeked over at Him, it was laying on the couch and reading something. It occasionally glanced over at Mark; this didn't bother him. He remembered how it used to watch over him in his sleep sometimes. Especially since that really bad nightmare he had when he was a kid. More memories of Him popped up in Mark's head.

He looked back on one particular moment fondly, although it started out horribly. His mother was drunk, extremely drunk one night. He must have walked in on her at the worst possible time, he got yelled at when he entered her bedroom. Her words echoed in his mind; he might not remember everything exactly but it left him petrified. All he could do is stand there and listen. Struggling to choke back his tears. As he was about to leave, she struck him across the face. It wasn't just a slap; he distinctly remembers how painful it felt. He ran off to his room, locked the door and hid under his bed sheets. Mark heard his bedroom closet opening; the sheets were lifted. Him kneeled down to see Mark trembling. It asked what happened but took one look at his bruised face and its suspicions were right. It slowly pulled Mark in an embrace and he clung on. His tears stained its clothes. The way that it held him, has stuck with Mark for years.

This alternate reassured that it would protect him. And it did just that. It was there for him, comforting him, forming a bond with him. Why would such a creature choose to go against his kind to keep him safe, he had no idea. I don't think Him knows why it's like this either. Mark pondered. He rose up from his bed and Him took notice of that. They both starred at each other.

"Hey, uh...This is kinda awkward as fuck but like, could we- no... Wait." Mark hesitated; he knew he was yearning for that hug again. How am I supposed to ask here? “Uh, I don't know if you remember this but-” He gazed at the floor. “Dammit, nevermind... Forget that I even said anything." Completely embarrassed, he gave up asking.

Him put down its book and chuckled a bit. "Alright..." It said in a mocking tone. "I know you want a hug; you don't have to make it weird..."

"Shut up." Mark crossed his arms. "But yeah, I do want a hug."

Both of them opened up their arms and soon, they were locked in a long embrace. Mark sat on its lap and curled up. He struggled to keep his eyes open, all of his worries pretty much disappeared. "You know, you're actually pretty comfy." When he said that, it held him tighter and closer. That feeling of security was just what he needed, so sheltering, so calming, he let himself fall asleep. Finally, he felt at home.

[lunar-wandering]

“this house is a frickin’ nightmare”

so i. decided to write something for the ‘Sitcom’ AU, which is basically just the concept that post-canon, everyone lives in the same house.... its Fun.

Word Count: 2.7k

Read on Ao3

-

"Monkey King, get down from the fridge."

"No."

This exchange is what drew MK's attention to the fact that something was happening in the kitchen.

In MK's opinion, it was far too early for something to be happening in the kitchen.

"Wukong, I swear, if you don't get down from there-"

"What- you gonna stab me? Pigsy, you know full well that method is ineffective."

"What is going on?" MK asked, entering the kitchen and, well, seeing exactly what he had expected; Wukong crouched on top of the fridge, staring down at Pigsy, who was glaring up at him.

Still though. Just because he'd expected to see it didn't explain why it was happening.

"Oh hey, kid." Wukong said, taking notice of him. "Everything's fine, you can go back to your room, breakfast will be ready soon."

"It would be done already if you hadn't burned it." Pigsy said, gesturing to the charred remains of what supposedly had been breakfast. "Seriously, can't you follow simple instructions?? Now we've gotta start all over."

"It's not my fault I'm a visual learner." Wukong said, his tail swinging back and forth.

"It was three steps-"

"What's going on?"

MK barely kept himself from startling at the new voice behind him, turning around to see a very tired looking Red Son.

"Breakfast burned." MK said, catching Red Son up on the situation. Red Son hummed in contemplation, walking into the kitchen, picking up a piece of the unrecognizable charred food, and, ignoring the other's growing horror, he ate it.

"...Tastes fine to me." He said, going so far as to grab and nibble on another piece as he turned and left, presumably heading back to his room. The remaining three watched him go in shocked silence.

"....This house is a frickin' nightmare." Wukong deadpanned. Pigsy nodded in agreement.

"Aptly put. Now get off of the fridge."

"No."

MK decided to go back to bed.

-

It was commonly known, within the household, that somehow, Tang and Wukong continuously managed to get out of doing their fair share of the chores. No one was quite sure how they did it, as the two of them kept coming up with new methods every day.

Today's method was..... interesting, to say the least.

Somehow, someway, they had managed to remove their names from the Chore Roulette Wheel, without leaving any trace that their names had ever even been there. Which was, in fact, rather impressive, considering that the roulette wheel was literally a giant wooden roulette wheel, built by Sandy, and there were no empty spaces were their names used to be, they were just. Gone.

To be honest, MK would've never noticed if Mei hadn't pointed it out.

Now, there was a house-wide search for the two chore-shirkers.

"Found 'em yet?" MK yelled down the stairs into the basement. A few seconds passed, then a unanimous call of "No!" came. MK sighed. If the Spider-gang couldn't find Tang and Wukong down there, then they probably weren't there. (.....Probably. Wukong did have a lot of tricks up his sleeves, and MK didn't put it pass his mentor to use them for something like this.)

That checked off the majority of the house.... which only left-

An enraged scream (courtesy of Mei) from upstairs confirmed what MK had concluded.

They were on the roof.

MK rushed to the stairs, running up them-

Only to pause as he heard a yelp, and a flash of gold fell past the window, followed by a loud thud. MK leaned on the windowsill to look outside, just in time to see Tang fall past it. Wukong, a few branches and grass in his fur from his rough landing, summoned his cloud to catch Tang, before zooming away.

As MK would later find out, in the haste to escape Mei's wrath, Tang had actually pushed Wukong off the roof. Wukong, in return, had unceremoniously dropped Tang on the ground the first chance he got.

Both of their names were back on the roulette wheel by the next morning.

....They still managed to get out of doing their chores though.

-

"Oh, hey Macaque." MK mumbled, tiredly rubbing his eyes, and Macaque, mid-way through stealing a snack out of the fridge, froze like a deer in the headlights.

"Uh.....hey, bud." He said, slowly closing the fridge door, glancing at MK, who was obviously very tired, then looking at the clock on the wall.

2:43 AM. Okay, he could work with this.

"What are you doing up so late?" Macaque asked, leaning casually against the fridge in an attempt to hide his nervousness. If MK had been more awake, he would've noticed and called him out on it, but as it was....

"Just woke up.... wanted to get a snack." MK said, and Macaque quickly opened a nearby cupboard.

"Here, have this." He said, putting a cookie in MK's hands, before grabbing him by the shoulders, turning him around, and gently shoving him back towards his room. "Now go back to bed."

"G'night, Macaque." MK said, nibbling on his cookie.

"Goodnight, MK." Macaque sighed, waiting until he heard MK's bedroom door click closed again before melting back into the shadows.

The next morning, MK thought he had dreamt the whole thing. After all, Macaque had vehemently denied the invitation to live in the house with everyone else, surely if he had changed his mind and started to live with them, someone would've noticed.

....Right?

-

"Monkey King?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you always sleep on the roof?" Red Son asked, "I mean, you do have a room after all, why don't you use it?"

"I just like watching the stars." Wukong said, reclining on his cloud. Suddenly, Mei and MK also appeared beside Red Son, with their arms crossed, looking unimpressed.

"You told me that beds were uncomfortable." Mei said.

"And you told me that you liked the breeze." MK added. Wukong's tail bristled a little, but he still didn't look over at them.

"Well, I mean, all of those are true." Wukong said, "Figured I would just... switch my answers up from time to time, keep things entertaining you know?"

"That doesn't explain why you slept out there in the pouring rain." Mei said, "In fact, the only time we've seen you sleep inside is when we have blanket fort night."

"...The rain was nice?" Wukong said, sounding uncertain. The trio narrowed their eyes.

"Is there something wrong with your room?" Red Son asked, and Wukong flinched.

"No." He said, finally sitting up and looking at them. "Really, my room's perfectly fine, I don't know where you're getting the idea that something's wrong-"

"You're doing that nervous smile again." MK said, and Wukong slammed a hand over his mouth in an attempt to hide what the trio had already seen.

There was a moment of silence, and in that moment, each member of the traffic light trio came to a shared conclusion.

No matter the cost, they would get into Wukong's room.

Almost as though they had actually planned it, the trio took off towards the staircase, ignoring Wukong's yells for them to stop. Hurriedly, Wukong summoned two clones, then rushed after the trio.

Red on got caught on the stairs, the clone grabbing hold of the edge of his coat and dragging him down. It wouldn't be able to hold him for long of course, his fire could quickly burn the clone away, but it would still manage to slow him down.

Mei was captured in the hallway, the clone pushing off the wall to tackle her, accidentally knocking her right into Yin and Jin's room, pining her to the ground as the twins yelped in shock.

...Which just left MK.

Having trained with the Monkey King, MK found himself easily dodging Wukong's attempts to catch him. Slightly out of breath, he skidded to a stop in front of Wukong's door, turned the knob, and opened it.

"I don't really see what the problem is, the room looks fine to me-" MK said, stepping into the room.

"Kid, wait-" Wukong started to say, but it was too late.

MK tripped, tumbling into the room, dispelling the illusion Wukong had carefully crafted and placed over it.

Wukong's room was a mess, to put things lightly. There was stuff everywhere- books, clothes, antiques, food, you named it, it was probably there. It was to the point where there was no place to sleep, the bed being covered in stuff. Which, well, that explained the whole 'sleeping on the roof' thing, but still.

Wukong nervously shifted from foot to foot in the doorway. Red Son and Mei, who had succeeded in freeing themselves, as well as Yin and Jin, who had gotten curious from all the commotion, stared over Wukong's shoulders, taking in the state of the room.

MK sat there for a moment, looking at the mess (and sure, MK's room was messy too, but this-), before slowly turning around to look at his mentor, a serious expression on his face.

"Wukong." MK said, and Wukong stiffened, his nervous smile growing wider at the sound of MK saying his name instead of his title.

"...Yeah?" Wukong said, chuckling nervously as MK's look darkened.

"...I'm getting Sandy."

"Wait, no no no-"

The rest of the day was spent cleaning up Wukong's room, sorting through the piles upon piles of stuff.

Wukong, in a bout of spite, still slept on the roof anyways.

-

Yin and Jin stared in shock at the scene in front of them.

Everyone in the house knew that Wukong and Tang adamantly avoided doing their share of the chores. (The roof-pushing incident was still fresh in everyone's minds, after all).

So that's why seeing Wukong doing the laundry was very out of place.

"...What are you two staring at?" Wukong asked, snapping the twins out of their shocked reverie.

"It's just....weird to see you doing the laundry, that's all." Yin said, and that-

Well, surprisingly enough, that made Wukong actually pause.

"It is?" He asked, slowly setting the laundry basket down on the ground, subtly nudging it under a nearby table so that it was now out of view.

"Well, I mean, with how you and Mr. Tang utilize every method possible to avoid doing the chores, we never thought we'd actually see you doing one." Jin said.

"...I see." Wukong said, quietly. "Well, in that case. You two saw nothing."

"Wha-"

Not giving them a chance to respond, Wukong flashed a peace sign, then vanished, leaving the twins to sputter in disbelief.

(Later, Macaque returned to the laundry room to pick up the clothes he'd left behind.)

-

Syntax paused as he stared at the sight before him.

"...What is this?" He ased, drawing the attention of the occupants in the living room.

"A braid train!" MK replied, and honestly, that's what it was. MK sat on the floor, braiding Bai He's hair, Bai He braiding Red Son's, who was braiding Mei's hair. Mei pulled one hand out of Spider Queen's hair to give Syntax a little wave before returning to braiding the queen's hair. Spider Queen gently weaved Huntsman's hair into a braid that looked above professional level. Huntsman was twisted at an odd angle in order to put some braids in Sandy's beard. And Sandy carefully created some tiny braids in Wukong's fur."

"I....see." Syntax said, holding up his phone and taking a quick picture before any of the braid train participants could notice.

"Do you wanna join?" MK asked, "You can either braid my hair or get yours braided by Monkey King. Your choice."

Syntax took a moment to think about it.

He ended up braiding MK's hair.

-

There was someone in the shower.

Now, usually, this wouldn't be such a mind-boggling thing, but-

All of the house's occupants stared at the bathroom door in trepidation.

"You sure Wukong didn't just accidentally leave the shower on again?" Princess Iron Fan asked, prompting some indignant sputtering from Wukong, who was sitting on Demon Bull King's shoulder. MK shook his head in the negative.

"No, I'm sure I heard someone moving in there." He said, crossing his arms.

"Why don't you or Monkey King just use your true sight and get this whole mystery over with?" Jin asked.

"Yeah, we've already been waiting for like, 20 minutes." Yin said.

"They're in the shower." MK said, "I'm not just gonna invade their privacy like that, regardless of who they are."

The shower turned off, and everyone turned to stare at the door again, in silence. There was some rustling around, and then the door opened.

Macaque. It was Macaque. Who, upon realizing that literally the entire household was standing in front of him, froze.

And then immediately tried to turn and run.

"Oh no you don't." Wukong said, jumping off of Demon Bull King's shoulder, and outright tackling the other monkey to the ground. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, I live here?" Macaque said, sitting up and shoving Wukong off of him.

"You turned down the invitation to come and live with us though...." Wukong said, slowly standing back up. ".....How long have you been here?"

"Two weeks."

"Two weeks?!" Everyone went into various states of shock.

"How could we not have noticed you?" MK asked.

"You- you did notice me though." Macaque said, "Like, we had a whole conversation in the kitchen at around 3 AM."

"You think I remember what happens at 3 am?!" MK said, holding his head in his hands, and Red Son comfortingly patted him on the back.

"What happens at 3 AM stays at 3 AM." Red Son said, sounding like he was saying some ancient wisdom despite the actual sentence being utter nonsense. Yin and Jin snapped their fingers as a look of realization appeared on their faces. 

"That's why we saw Wukong doing the laundry the other day." Yin said, "It was Macaque in disguise!"

"....Yeah, I figured you'd notice if I didn't do some chores, just to clean up after myself." Macaque sighed, and Pigsy turned to glare at Wukong and Tang.

"See? Even the ex-villain does more chores than you two." He said, and Wukong and Tang purposefully looked away, whistling innocently.

"Wait." Mei said, "If you've been here for two weeks, and we haven't seen you use any of the bedrooms... then where have you been sleeping?"

As it turned out, Macaque had been spending his nights in the storage closet, curled up in the darkest corner of the room with nothing other than a blanket and a small pillow. The others, of course, deemed this as unacceptable, and pretty much near shoved him into one of the leftover bed rooms.

...Which he didn't even end up using that night, as it ended up being a night where everyone ended up falling asleep in the living room, blankets and pillows strewn about everywhere.

The next morning, Macaque wasn't there when the others woke up, and there was a brief moment of panic over the monkey's whereabouts-

And then said monkey walked back into the room, using the shadows to help him carry some trays with breakfast on it.

He paused when he registered that everyone was staring at him.

"....What?" He asked, "I woke up first, that means I had breakfast duty, right?"

"I mean.....yeah." MK said, graciously accepting his plate of food. "But, to be honest. I kinda expected you to burn it like Monkey King did."

"Hey, I did that on purpose. For Red Son." Wukong said, "Cause, y'know. He likes charred food. Apparently."

"You did not do that on purpose and we all know it." Pigsy said, "You were just as unaware of Red Son's dietary habits as the rest of us."

"...I literally just woke up and I'm kinda feeling attacked." Red Son mumbled, sitting up. "Should I feel like I'm being attacked?"

"No, you're fine, we're just calling out Wukong again." Spider Queen whispered to him, and Red Son hummed before rolling back over, clearly intending on getting a few more minutes of rest despite the argument starting to occur in the room. Macaque, for his part, remained standing frozen, with MK standing beside him, nibbling at the food on his plate.

"....Should I be concerned about this?" Macaque asked, staring at the fight taking place. MK shrugged.

"Nah." He said, "This is just the same shit as always."

[pascalpanic]

Fixer Upper PART ONE (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Summary: Nothing seems to go right in your new house. When yet another thing breaks, a certain handyman comes to your rescue.

W/C: 2k ish

Warnings: language, joking mentions of a house being cursed (it isn’t), reader has dirty thoughts bc it’s Frankie and he’s hot

A/N: this one goes out to my anons who’ve been sending me stuff about frankie as a repairman! I loved the idea and I thought it would be super fun to write! This will be part ONE of three-ish! ps idk if any references to reader’s gender are in this part but there certainly will be some in the future so.

It’s been a while that you’ve lived in this house. Since that day you hauled in the cardboard boxes, you’ve been feeling that your life is the epitome of Murphy’s law. Or rather, this damned house is.

Nothing ever goes right. The heat breaks in the winter and the air conditioning breaks in the summer. The plumbing needs work when you need it to work, and the oven only ever breaks halfway through cooking something. Seriously, you swear this place is cursed by some hex determined to pester you out of living here.

You’ve never exactly been the handy type. You don’t know much about mechanics, heating or cooling, the electricity and wiring in your house, any of it. By now, you wish you’d taken the time to learn it at some point rather than hiring someone every time.

The first sign was that the June heat seemed inescapable. You’d been outside all day, and you figured it was just your body taking its time to adjust to the cooler, indoor temperature. Then you never cooled down. When you stepped out of the bathroom after a shower and found the air to be nearly as muggy as that of the steamed bathroom, you realized that the air conditioning must be off.

Well, it was on. The problem was that it wasn’t working. You opened all the windows, and figured the night breeze would cool you, then you became worried about serial killers and crimes and promptly shut and locked all of them again. With the fan in your bedroom on, the air at least moved, but was still thick and heavy.

In the morning, when you wake with no blankets on and sweaty sheets, you dial the repair company as fast as you can. You inform them of the situation, and they tell you they’ll send someone out your way in the next hour or two.

The air is still somewhat cool outside, so you give the front porch a shot once you get changed out of your pajamas and take yet another cool shower. The heavy dew is an indicator of just how humid the air is, and you relish every little breeze that passes by and cools you down. You conduct your morning business outside, hoping to have this problem fixed before the sun reaches a height where the temperatures will rise exponentially.

About an hour after the call, the repair van rolls up into your driveway and parks. “Thank God,” you murmur to yourself.

Your focus returns to your computer, but you hear the door slam shut and look up to find the repairman there. He wears khaki cargo pants and a gray t-shirt, complete with a ball cap on top, with dark brown curls peeking out from the bottom. He fastens his tool belt around his waist as he walks up to the porch. “Hey there. I’m Frankie. I’ll be taking care of you today,” he informs you, a kind smile on his face. You already like him. “I got the basics from the boss, but can you tell me more about the problem?”

Looking up at him from the seated position you’re in, you give an awkward smile. Suddenly, you wish you’re better dressed, fixed up and looking nice. Even in work clothes, this man is beautiful. It makes you a little nervous, you in your pajamas and him looking like a god even in cargo pants. “I wish I could, but I don’t know anything about the air conditioner and how it works other than how to change the settings. All I know is that it isn’t working.”

He gives a good-natured chuckle, a soft bounce of his chest beneath the shirt. He looks down at his tool belt and his scruff brushes against the collar of the gray. “Well, let’s go give it a shot. I’ll need you to show me around, show me the control panel and the main system.” God, he’s handsome.

“Oh, of course,” you nod and stand, leaving your laptop on the small table. “Well, right this way. And please, you don’t need to take your boots off. Those look complicated,” you laugh as you look at the heavy tan boots at the bottom of his body.

Frankie nods and looks around as you lead him through the house. He doesn’t take his boots off, since you insisted, but he does give them a generous wipe on the doormat, careful not to track anything in. “It’s a beautiful place,” he tells you honestly, with a half-smile that just tugs at one of the corners of his ridiculously soft-looking lips.

“Thanks,” you shrug and show him to the control panel. “I try. Okay, here’s the button thingy.”

“The button thingy?” he teases, which leads to laughter from the both of you.

“If I knew what it was called, you wouldn’t be here,” you tease him back and shake your head.

Frankie uses the tools from his belt to take off the casing. You lean against the wall as he works, admiring the way his hands nimbly check the wires and paneling behind it. He holds a small flashlight between his teeth to look into the wall cavity.

“I can hold that for you,” you offer, and he moves his mouth for you to take it from him.

“Thanks,” he says, popping his jaw slightly to adjust from the awkward angle of holding it between his teeth. “You don’t have to. I’m just here to fix it.”

You point it at the same spot. “I might as well be some help, considering I don’t know shit about my own house.”

Frankie laughs at that, stealing a glance your way that makes your face warm before his gaze returns to the electrical situation. “Well,” he declares after a few seconds. “The wiring must not be the problem here. This all is working fine, so it must be with the actual system.”

“Great,” you groan. “The part I know even less about.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he chuckles and screws the panel back into place on your wall, making sure everything works properly and he didn’t mess with any functions.

Leading Frankie to your basement, you show him the cluttered laundry room and the central air conditioning unit. He’s already analyzing the system, and you back off to let him work. He looks focused. “Holler if you need me,” you tell him as he gets on his knees to look at something, daring to gently pat his shoulder. It’s strong, muscular beneath your palm.

Heading back to the kitchen, you open the fridge and sigh. For a moment, you allow yourself to close your eyes and just enjoy the cold air it produces. Hopefully, your house will be the same soon enough. Grabbing two tall glasses, you fill each with ice before pouring half sweet tea and half lemonade into the glasses.

You stand in the kitchen with the freezer open, sighing at the cool air it provides. Not sure how long he’ll take, you scroll through your phone. It’s surprisingly quick, you find.

“Hey, I found it!” Frankie calls from the basement.

Carrying the two glasses, you return to the laundry room to find him reorganizing his tool belt. “Here,” you tell him with a smile as you hold out the drink. “Least I could do. It’s unbearable in here.”

“Thanks,” he smiles and lifts the glass to you in a miniature salute before taking a sip. Frankie then launches into a detailed explanation of the issue with the A/C unit, using all kinds of terms you don’t understand and mentioning parts you didn’t even know were included in the machine. “I got it all fixed up, though, and it shouldn’t take long before it’s working just as good as normal.”

You sigh in relief, swallowing the sweet drink and smiling at him. “God, thank you so much. You don’t even know how awful it was in here.”

“If it’s anything like right now, I do,” he chuckles. The man takes the hem of his t-shirt and lifts it to wipe his face, revealing a muscular but soft body beneath it, with a beautiful little trail of dark hair leading to beneath his belt. Is it terrible that your first thought is that you want to lick it?

You force the image from your mind with another swig of the drink. “Yeah, just about. Well, how much do I owe you?” You ask the man, leading him out of the laundry room and into the basement that’s already feeling cooler.

“Oh, nothing right now,” he shakes his head as you lead him upstairs and to the kitchen. “I just tweaked some things for you, didn’t need any parts or anything, so it’s just gonna be labor.” He seems to remember something. “Ah, shit. I gotta have you sign something. I’ll grab the paper from the van and be right back,” he tells you and leaves his drink on the counter, half-jogging outside.

While he’s outside, you lean against the cool kitchen counter and let yourself daydream. This Frankie guy certainly is attractive, and his personality is definitely something you’re interested in. What if the situation right now played out like a porno, and he fucked you on the countertop? You certainly wouldn’t complain. You noticed his hands and feet are large. Certainly he must be big somewhere else too. “Oh Jesus Christ,” you murmur to yourself. Why did my mind have to go there? And why is the thought so hot? He’s a sweet man too, clearly goofy and sweet. Why is your mind going there then? Really, upon further pondering, you just want to hug the man, admire his strong body pressed to yours in an intimate but innocent gesture.

“Sorry, what was that?” Frankie calls out as he walks into the house again.

His voice snaps you from your daydreaming. “Oh, just talking to myself,” you say quickly and cheerfully, taking the paper from him. The top is printed with repairman name: Francisco Morales. Francisco. That makes you smile. What a cute name. The rest is filled with the details of what he did to the machine to fix it, and you sign and date at the bottom. “Here you go, Francisco.”

His tanned skin turns a little pinker on the cheeks. “Great,” Frankie smiles and takes it back.

“Before you leave,” you tell him quickly, darting to grab your purse from the entryway, “here.”

Frankie walks to you and you hand him a generous cash tip, with a stupid smile stuck to your face. “Thank you, wow,” he says, voice honest in its surprise as he notices the total of the money.

“Of course. I really can’t thank you enough. God, it’s been painfully hot in here and I really just can’t stand the heat,” you ramble, your voice speeding up. “And… yeah. Thank you. For your company, too.”

“Just doing my job,” he tells you with a smile, putting his hands in his pockets. “Oh, here.”

From his pocket, he pulls a little rectangle of paper with his name and company on it. “The shop number is on here; if anything changes, just call and ask for Catfish.”

“Catfish?” You ask with a smile, puzzled.

“My old military nickname. It’s what the guys around there call me,” he shrugs, shy at the nickname.

It makes you laugh a little, and you tuck the card in your purse. “Well, Catfish, thank you. I’ll be sure to use this next time I have some stupid thing I can’t repair myself.”

“Please do,” he chuckles, a shy smile on his face. “I’ll see you around.”

“Thanks!” You call again and cringe. That’s, what, the ninth time you’ve said that now? He walks to the van and you give him a wave before retreating back inside. God, now you can’t wait for this shitty house to need another repair. You’ll certainly be asking for Catfish.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles @queridopascal

[shemarmooresfedora]

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: a teeny bit of angst (resolved)

A/N: hi, loves! i will be changing updates to this to once a week because i would like to get my final other WIP out that has been sitting in my drive forever and i have graduation stuff. ALSO, i hit 400 followers!!! thank you thank you <3 here is the celebration!

Masterlist

Chapter 32

“Okay, everyone ready?” Spencer asked.

“Yep,” you smiled, grabbing Jo’s hand, “Just let me get a picture first.”

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and faced it towards Spencer, “Smile!”

Spencer turned sideways so both babies would be visible in the photo. He was wearing one of those double baby carriers so Ophelia was strapped to his back while Ollie was up front.

You all walked out of the room and down to the parking garage while passing nurses and visitors would ‘aw’ at the adorable family that had just practically doubled in size.

“Honey, can you put Jo in her booster seat in the middle first?” Spencer asked.

“Yep, up you go, Baby J,” you helped her into her new booster seat.

On both sides of Jo were now two newborn baby car seats so she could keep the twins entertained on the car ride.

You unstrapped Ophelia from off of Spencer’s back and littered her with kisses, already missing her in your arms. You buckled her in securely as Spencer did the same to Ollie on the other side.

Spencer got in the driver’s side and you got in the passenger seat. You both turned around to look at all your little kids in the back row.

Spencer turned to look at you with a huge grin, “We’re going to need a bigger car.”

“Spencer Reid, I am not driving a mini van,” you gave him a quick peck.

“Fine, I’ll just have to steal one of the FBI’s many SUVs,” he joked.

Jo switched her attention between both babies during the car ride, giving you and Spencer a play-by-play of everything they did.

“Ophelia is trying to squirm out of her blanket so I’m tucking her back in,” she stated.

“Thank you, Princess,” Spencer smiled, rubbing soft circles on your thigh as he drove.

“Ollie’s little hat is almost falling off so I am going to put it back on.”

“Thank you, baby, you are being such a good big sister,” you complimented her.

Once Spencer pulled into the driveway, Spencer grabbed Ollie and you grabbed Ophelia out of their respective seats.

“I’ll come back for the bags in the back,” Spencer said as he walked up to open the front door.

“I wanna hold her please,” Jo made grabby hands up at you with Ophelia in your arms.

“You can hold her when you are sitting, Baby J,” you assured her, patting her head.

Jo followed you up to the nursery, Spencer’s old bedroom. You had the cribs and other basics set up but you didn’t decorate because you were hoping to be moving soon. You and Spencer put an offer down on the house near JJ and Will’s and were waiting to hear back.

“The babies are going to take a nap right now and we are going to have lunch so say night night,” you lifted Jo up to give the babies a kiss before their nap.

Spencer placed Ollie in the crib with Ophelia, “I read up on co-bedding in one of the pediatric magazines at the hospital and if the twins are small enough, having them sleep together in the same crib can provide benefits including regulating body temperatures and sleep cycles, plus it soothes them.”

You and Jo gave the babies kisses and then you grabbed the baby monitor and switched it on.

“You coming, love?” you placed your hand on Spencer’s shoulder.

“One second,” he whispered, his eyes not leaving the two twins cuddled up together in one crib, “They’re just too perfect.”

-

You awoke to find Spencer in the rocking chair in your room in between the two bassinets. You had their cribs set up in the nursery for naps but they would do most of their sleeping in here with you guys until they were a few months old.

“What’s wrong? Are they hungry again?” you whispered, rubbing your eyes as you sat up.

“No, love. You can go back to bed. Ophelia was getting a little fussy which made Ollie fussy too but I think they just wanted some tummy time,” Spencer smiled softly as he had both the babies pressed to his chest.

“You are the best dad ever,” you blew him a kiss before resting your head back on the pillow.

You were lulled back to sleep by the quaint creaking of the rocking chair and Spencer’s loving whispers to the babies.

-

“Where’s Daddy?” Jo asked as you served her a bowl of oatmeal.

“He’s changing the twins. He’ll be down in a bit,” you assured her as you sat down across from her.

You watched Jo push around her oatmeal a little but not really eat any, looking up to the stairs frequently to see if her Daddy was coming down.

Spencer finally entered the kitchen with the twins, “Love, do you want to take Ollie?”

You opened your arms and accepted Ollie into your arms, “Hi, my little one!”

“Sorry it took so long. I was trying to get them properly swaddled but this princess right here was trying to escape,” Spencer grinned at the baby in front of him.

Jo pushed her still-full bowl of oatmeal towards the center of the table and scooched out of her chair, stomping slightly up the stairs.

When you heard her bedroom door close, you turned to Spencer with a disappointed look.

“Spencer, I know the twins are very exciting but you have to remember you have 3 kids, not 2. You hadn’t even said good morning to her yet.”

“I was going to!” Spencer insisted.

“And you called Ophelia ‘Princess’. That’s your nickname for Jo,” you pointed out.

Spencer sighed, he hadn’t even realized he had done that. He placed Ophelia in her bouncer seat and reheated Jo’s oatmeal. He even placed blueberries on top in the shape of a smiley face before heading upstairs.

Spencer knocked gently on the door. His guilt increased tenfold when he heard the little sniffles coming from inside.

“Jo, I know you’re mad at me and you have every right to be but may I please come in?” Spencer asked through the door.

He heard the sound of light footsteps and a teary-eyed Jo opened the door. Spencer immediately knelt to her level and set the bowl down on the floor.

“Jo, I am so sorry I made you feel forgotten because I got too wrapped in trying to take care of the twins. I promise it will never happen again. You are my only Princess, Jo. We’ll give Ophelia a different nickname.”

“I forgive you, Daddy,” Jo hugged Spencer.

“After you finish breakfast, we can do whatever you want today, Princess,” Spencer smiled.

Jo beamed as she scooped a bite of oatmeal into her mouth.

-

You knocked on Jo’s bedroom door where you heard whispers and scuffling of footsteps.

“What’s the password?” you heard Jo announce in a deep voice.

You looked down at the construction paper invitation with lots of glitter glue that was slipped under your bedroom door.

“Sunflower.”

The door opened, revealing a mini table with pillows all around it as seats. Jo’s tea set that Penelope had gotten her was beautifully arranged on the table along with little finger sandwiches and cookies.

“Oh my, how did I get so lucky to be invited to this exclusive tea party?” you smiled, “I know the invitation said ‘dress fancy’ so I hope this sundress is suitable.”

You gave Jo a little curtsy before entering. You had Ollie wrapped in a cloth baby bjorn around your front because he was taking a little nap but Ophelia was wide awake in your arms.

“You look like a Queen, Mommy!” Jo did a little twirl for you in her ruffle dress with strawberries all over it.

“So do you, my little Princess,” you smiled back.

Spencer was already seated on the floor in a full suit like he would wear to work. He shaved and slicked back his hair.

“Ah, I see the King has already arrived,” you chuckled, bending down to give him a kiss.

“Indeed, my lovely wife. I brought the bouncers up for the babies to sit in,” Spencer informed you.

You placed Ophelia in hers but kept Ollie in the bjorn because you didn’t want to disrupt his peaceful slumber.

Jo poured you all tea and Spencer added a little bit of sugar and honey to the tea cups.

“Do the babies want tea?” Jo asked, still holding her tea kettle.

“The babies can’t have tea just yet but thank you for offering,” you smiled, gently picking your cup up.

“Pinky’s up, Daddy!” Jo instructed.

It was rather comical to watch Spencer try to hold the tiny porcelain tea cup in his large hands.

“The tea is absolutely exquisite, Princess Josephine. I believe I will have one of these gourmet peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to go with it,” you smiled.

-

“I’m exhausted. Mommy needs a nap like the twins and Jo,” you chuckled as you fell back on the bed after putting the sleeping twins in their bassinets.

“Are you sure you don’t need a shower first?” Spencer questioned.

You looked at him and quirked an eyebrow.

“What? You know what your sundresses do to me,” Spencer whined.

“I guess I have a little energy left,” you grinned, grabbing his hand as you tip-toed to the bathroom to not wake the twins.

A/N: another reason i need to push the updates back is because i am going camping next week (i wish spencer could protect me from any bears)!

taglist (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @doctorreiding @reidsfish