#have several more loads of laundry to do

[jedi-bird]

One load of laundry done, dishes washed, trash and recycling taken out, groceries delivered and put away, and poppy seeds scattered. I think this is the most productive I've been on a weekend in years lol.

[githvyrik]

on the one hand this laundry detergent is waaaayyyy better for the environment, cutting out chemicals that pass through water treatment and leak out into natural water sources poisoning marine life and it doesn’t come in a big fuckoff bottle of Forever Trash, but on the other hand it’s like $20 a box meanwhile the big bottles of gross shit are like $6

[whateveriwant]

Task force 141 reacting to their very pregnant wife still trying to clean, cook etc

This turned more into ‘Task force 141 preventing their very pregnant wife from trying to clean, cook, etc’ lmaooooo I hope that's alright

Price

HA! Good one!

No seriously, it's actually hilarious that you think you'd do anything for yourself when your hubby's around

That man has been waiting on you hand and foot since you first got together. So now that you're pregnant and you think he'd let you so much as lift a finger? You must have a serious case of pregnancy brain, sweetheart

Price is doing all the cooking, the cleaning, the running errands, etc. throughout the entirety of your pregnancy (and at least the first several months postpartum)

He's kept you practically bed bound these last few months to the point where you think there's a perfect indent of your body molded into the mattress

Seven months in, he's suddenly called away to a quick mission halfway across the globe, and you think finally you'll get some of your autonomy back...

Well, think again because who should show up at your door the next morning than your mother-in-law herself, ready to pick up where her son left off

She came at the behest of your husband, of course, and was armed with a detailed set of care instructions

What does your husband think you are? Some sort of one-of-a-kind, priceless artifact that needs special handling? (Actually that's exactly what you are. Price-less… I'll see myself out 🚶🏻‍♀️)

Ghost

When it comes to having some semblance of independence during your pregnancy, Ghost will give you a bit of a longer leash than Price, but only just so

You’re going for a walk around the neighborhood? Hold on, let him grab his coat to join you. Or you're going into the backyard to tend the garden? He'll pull the weeds while you water the plants

But when it comes to letting you do certain things, there are some hard nos that he will absolutely not budge on

You try to use a stepladder to reach the top of the cupboard? Stop! You'll break your neck! You try to pick up anything heavier than 10 pounds? Stop! Give it here! You try to drive?... Don't even fuckin' think about it, precious.

The farther along your pregnancy progresses, the better he gets at predicting (and intercepting) your next move

You were gonna do laundry today? Well, wouldn't you know, he's already got a load going in the washer. You were about to make dinner? Well shucks, he just ordered takeaway from that Greek place you love

His ability to read your mind is honestly impressive once you get past how damn annoying you find it. Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you're incapable of fending for yourself, and you're tired of him acting as if otherwise

But really, you can never get mad at anything he does for you. After all, what kind of a husband would he be if he didn't take care of his missus and your little one?

Soap

If you take Ghost’s cautiousness, mix it with Price’s thoroughness, and crank it up to an 11, you get Soap

From the moment he found out you were pregnant, he put your house into full lockdown mode, stopping just short of booby trapping the front door in case you got any funny ideas

You want some fresh air? Just open a window. You want to go for a walk and stretch your legs? Just take a few turns about the living room like you're some Austenian heroine

Don't let him catch you doing any kind of physical labor, because so help him Jesus he will grab a spray bottle and use it like you're a feral alleycat he's trying to house-train (he wouldn't really... but don't test him)

You try to unload the dishwasher? Ehrr! Wrong move. You try to remake the bed? Ehrr! Nice try. You try to mop up your own mess. Ehrr! Enough already. You try to– OCH, WOULD YE BLOODY SIT DOWN, WOMAN?!

For nine long months during his requested leave from work, your husband is attached to you like some kind of loving, smothering barnacle

But doesn't he miss his job, or the lads for that matter? What if the world needs saving? What will they do without him?

Well, (in his exact words) fuck the rest of the world! You're his world, bonnie, and he'll give you everything you could ever wish for and then some

Gaz

By far, you have the most independence with Gaz than you would with any of the other three men… at least, at the beginning of your pregnancy, that is

Once you get to around five or six months he becomes just as helicopter-y as all the others; he's just ever so slightly more bearable, perhaps

There's lots of peeking his head around the corner to check on you throughout the day or appearing seemingly out of thin air whenever you're doing something he'd rather you wouldn't

You've lost count of the number of times you've been in the middle of cooking or hanging up the laundry or whatever and his hand has suddenly appeared out of nowhere, gently taking the object from you before directing you to sit and rest

And like, look. He knows you can handle yourself. He knows you could conquer the whole world if you wanted to. That's one of the things he loves about you the most

But seeing you like this – so fragile, so vulnerable, so beautiful and soft and pregnant with his child; his child – it just… It makes him…

He just needs to do these things for you, alright, love? Just let him take care of you, please? Would you let him do that?

You already have so much you have to carry. Let him ease some of the burden off your shoulders. Let him do these small things for you because they don't even compare to all that you're doing for him 🥲

[lichenes]

on my hands and knees begging for domestic fluff w joost. cooking together, doing livestreams, playing video games, ANYTHING plz <3

My friend read the ask and suggested the whole plot so it came out like a crack fic near the end but oh well, the sillies :D Hope you like it anon and thank you for the ask!!

CW: cursing, broken washing machines??? wc: 689

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••────────•°•❀•°•────────•

He walked through the door inhaling the familiar scent of your shared home. “You’re home!” You said with excitement, thrilled to see Joost. He talked to you about the latest concert, his eyes sparkling with joy when he described a huge group of people shouting the lyrics to his song alongside him. 

You were happy to finally have him back home as this was the last concert of the tour. He expressed how grateful he was for your support and couldn’t quite stop apologising for - as he called it - abandoning you for so long. You reassured him constantly hoping he would one day realise what made him happy, made you happy.

You both were too tired to do anything more than discuss things on the surface level. “You know I wouldn’t give you up for anything in the world.” He said as you both were laying in your shared bed. You nodded, constantly surprised by the level of affection he sported while extremely tired. 

You woke up well rested, finally not worrying if he was okay, he was next to you after all. “I’m doing laundry, do you need anything washed?” You said no and went into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for you two. When he was done with the load he got into the kitchen and hugged you from behind inhaling your scent. 

“Missed you.” He mumbled into your neck tickling you with his breath. “Missed you too.” You were standing over the stove with a wooden spoon stirring the scrambled eggs. Joost thought proved to be a severe distraction. “I need to focus on the task at hand, Joost.” He let his gorgeous laugh out. “I knoww~ but I didn’t have much time to spend with you and I need you now.” Your face got warmer at those words. “You’ve got me all to yourself lovely.” You said this time making his fair skin turn a shade of red. 

He stopped hugging you and opted instead to set the table. It was quite small but enough for both of you to dine. He made sure to give you your favourite glass. You served the food up. He commented on how tasty it was despite it being only eggs and salt. “It’s hard to fuck up scrambled eggs.” You said with a slight jest in your voice. He laughed and continued. “But it’s not impossible!” 

You went into the living room of your apartment after he was done with washing the dishes and you were done drying them. Your day was spent laying in bed and watching some stupid series full of cheesy jokes which were just cringey enough to make both your stomachs hurt from the laughter. At some point you stood up and went into the bathroom.

Your socks were met with a wet floor which you didn’t expect. Suddenly you realised what was going on. “Joost!” You shouted, calling him over. “What’s up?” He walked right into the puddle. “The washing machine malfunctioned… grab some cloths.” He nodded and walked up to the closet and pulled out some, handing it to you with a smile on his face to cheer you up before the work you both were going to do soon. 

Unfortunately you didn’t catch the malfunction in time which meant the floor panels lifted due to the moisture they absorbed. Renovations were long overdue and you were planning on changing up the floors anyway you told yourself when you saw the panels literally de-gluing themselves from the floor. 

You decided on a herringbone style of floors this time opting to lay them yourselves, after all how hard could it be? You bought raw planks and let Joost lay his heart out. You loved seeing him work all stuck in his own world. He weatherproofed the planks after cutting them up into size appropriate pieces and made your home look brand new with the shining new floors. 

“You did a great job baby.” You said when he came over excited to show you his work. “We should monitor our washing machine better next time though, we wouldn’t want to ruin these gorgeous floors.” 

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••────────•°•❀•°•────────• masterlist

[darlingshane]

Dirty Laundry

Shane Walsh x F!Reader

Summary: Shane doesn't approve of the way you do laundry. He tries to school you, but he loves you so much he can't really stay mad at you for long, especially when you start taking your clothes off.

Content/Warnings: 18+. Explicit, Smut, Crack, Oral Sex (f. recieving), Vaginal sex, Pet Names, Bratty reader. No ZA.

Word Count: 1.9k // AO3 Link.

You were aware Shane had his quirks before moving in together. Some you already knew, like having five pairs of boots from the same brand, or the way he chews his thumbnail when he’s nervous, or how he frantically runs his hand on his hair when he’s pissed… Most of those were quickly revealed after you started dating. Others you'd only come aware of them upon moving in together.

One that is highly surprising is his obsession with laundry. You noticed that his clothes were always perfectly clean and ironed as he wore them on any occasion you went out, no matter how fancy or casual. But once you were sharing the same bedroom, you found out that even his underwear is always neatly pressed and folded in the drawer as if it had just come out of the package. With how much he works, you always thought he'd have taken to a cleaners or something, but that’s not the case. He not only cares for his own clothes but making laundry is something he actually enjoys. It relaxes him, he says. Which it’s the complete opposite for you. It makes you anxious anytime you have to do it. Especially the folding and sorting part. When you lived alone, there was always a pile sitting on that chair in the corner of your room. But not anymore. Now that you are living with Shane there are no more random piles collecting dust for days at a time in any chair of the house. Anytime he does laundry, you come home to find your drawers perfectly organized. It’s not something you can complain about because Shane is a true dream of a partner. Quirks and all, you wouldn’t have it any other way. So, in return, any time it’s your turn to make laundry, no matter how much you hate it, you make the minimal effort to at least take the same care of his clothes as he does for yours. Though you could tell that sometimes he doesn’t approve of your messy folding technique, and has to rearrange them when you’re not around, he never says anything either.

But today, when it's your turn to do laundry, he comes home to catch you transferring all the dirty clothes from the hamper into the washing machine, both yours and his without much regard of type, color, texture… That's how you've always done it. Yes, it's messy, and you've had a couple of mishaps, but nothing really atrocious ever happened. You never put that much thought into it, to be honest. It's just clothing. But not for Shane. Watching his precious shirts, and uniform with the rest of the load makes him physically ill. He stares at you as if you were killing a puppy.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he goes off, taking stuff out of the washer. “You can't mix delicates with towels. And what the fuck is this?” he picks up a pair of dirty sneakers from the bottom of the drum. “You were really gonna wash them with all these? You're a fuckin’ savage.”

You lean against the dryer and try not to burst into laughter at how annoyed he is. It's kinda cute actually to see him frown at you with scorn, and hearing his voice pitch a little higher than usual.

These past few weeks, you've been collecting a series of firsts since you moved into your new home. The first time you cooked in your new kitchen, the first time you disagreed when it came to rearranging the living room furniture, the first night you woke him up when you heard a strange noise in the hallway… And today it's the first time you've truly seen him irritated.

“It's just clothes, babe. Who cares?”

“I care.” He frantically goes through the heap of clothes, divorcing them into several piles on top of the washer. “Please tell me at least you're not using the speed cycle to wash everything.”

“What? It saves time, water, electricity…”

“Yeah, but at what cost.”

“Gee, it's not like I murdered someone.”

“You were about to murder my uniform. That's the real crime.”

“Hmm, you look better without it anyway.” You tease, reaching with your hand to pinch his booty covered by a pair of jeans.

“Stop, this is serious.” Shane stays firm in his position but tries to hide one corner of his mouth pulling up into a half-smile. “Look, I’m gonna show you how it’s done.”

“Ohh, fun. I'm about to get schooled by the laundry police. Please enlighten me, Officer.”

You roll your eyes and half listen to him explaining the washer’s control panel to you as if you were an idiot. It’s not that you don’t know how to use it, it’s that you’re lazy and rather put everything together and save time. Then, he proceeds to elaborate on which categories you should separate the different types of fabrics.

“That would take me all day if I have to do that many loads.”

“So? That’s what weekends are for?”

“Noooo. Weekends are for resting, watching movies, and chilling.”

“Who said you can't have that too?”

“You! I think I lost five years of my life by just listening to you explaining how to do laundry.”

“You’re being a little brat today.”

“Am I now?” You smirk and push one of the piles he had on top of the washer to the floor. “Whoops.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”

“Nothing.” You push the next one.

“You're playing a dangerous game, darling.”

“Yeah? I just want you to teach me again how to do it.” Next, you grab the hem of the t-shirt you’re wearing, pull it over your head and dangle it in your finger. “Where should I put this, deputy?”

“I'd put it up your ass. Bet it'd look real nice there.”

You snort and let the shirt fall to the floor.

“What about this, Mr. Delicate?” you unclasp your bra, slip the straps off your arms, and drape it on his shoulder. “Do you like it there?”

Then, you brace your palms on his chest, your lips draw a grin as you lean to whisper closer to his mouth. “Or do you want me to put it back on?”

“Don't fucking dare putting it back on?” He mutters, swatting the bra off his shoulder before having his hand holding your jaw firmly.

There's actually no other choice for him than to join your little game. Laundry be damned when it comes to choosing between you or clothes.

Licking his lips, he pulls his head back, eyes roaming down to your bare chest as you move your hands to hold his waist. When his stare travels back up, you both lock eyes for a second before having his mouth pressed against yours with a sloppy, pushing flick of his tongue forcing itself past your lips.

His hand keeps your head still while he shoves your back against the wall. His free hand snakes its way under the waistband of your sweatpants at the front. His fingers shamelessly rub your pussy back and forth over your panties, tucking the fabric in your slit. Hitting all the right spots, he earns a good moan out of you.

All of a sudden, his tongue comes to a stop. His hand too. Shane drops to his knees. From that position he pulls your sweatpants down to your ankles and grabs your hips as his tongue juts out to draw a wet circle around your navel. He then trails down, as your skin comes alive into goose flesh. He yanks your underwear down your legs to join your pants at the floor before having his mouth shoved at the junction of your hips. His mouth travels all over your sex, leaving kisses and nibbles your outer lips, licking your folds, teasing your clit…

“Shane… Fuck…” you bury your fingers in his hair and pull tight as the tip of his tongue circles your opening.

Your body writhes against the hard surface holding your back, your grip tightens on his hair while his lips viciously start sucking your clit. Your pussy melts as much as any time he goes down on you and just as fast as before, his mouth is suddenly gone before the job is done, leaving that sweet aching lingering all over your cunt. He lifts his stare to seize your unsatisfied expression as you gasp for air. He quickly yanks his shirt off before holding your hips and bringing you down to the floor.

“C’mere, dirty lil brat,” he growls, and you yelp as he manhandles your body, rolling you to your back right on top of the pile of dirty laundry you tossed to the floor.

Shane removes the clothing hanging around your ankles and sets your knees widely apart so he can kneel in between. He unzips his jeans, pulls them down to the middle of his thighs along with his boxer briefs to release his erection. He’s hard as rock. The flared tip of his dick is swollen and red, begging for some friction. There’s a dark shine in his eyes that matches the glossy layer of your juices smeared all over his lips and chin. As he lowers his body down, you frame his face with both your palms, pull his face closer to capture his mouth while he blindly guides himself into your opening. Your core knots tightly as he pushes all his length up to the hilt. His breathing shallows as you devour his mouth with hunger. He comfortably settles on top of you, holding one of his arms on the side of your head while his other hand clutches to your hips. His thrusts come sharp and steady, filling the room with the relentless slapping of his hips against your skin and the desperate sounds of your kisses.

“God, I love you,” you groan in his mouth.

“Love you more, sweetheart.”

You breathe the air of his lungs, eat his tongue and swallow the sweet grunts that come out of his throat one beat at a time as you both lose the ability to draw deeper breaths. His cock swiftly comes in and out of you as your legs tremble and lock. You move your hands to hold his ass as the erratic waving of his hips drives you out of your mind. A pulse later you're hit with a mighty climax that almost makes you lose consciousness. As your walls flutter around his thickness he spills all his warm juices deep in your walls.

“Fuck me,” his voice falters as he slips out of you.

He lays flat on top of you for a moment as your orgasm slowly ebbs. His skin is warm and damp against yours as your palm glides up his back to comb the hairs at his nape.

“Oh god, now the laundry is dirtier than before,” you laugh softly as his smile grows wide against your neck.

“And whose fault is that, huh?” he lifts his head to look at you with an eyebrow slightly raised.

“Technically… it’s yours. If you had let me do it as I wanted, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Ain’t that right?” he playfully pinches your side making you jolt and chuckle.

“I mean… I’d rather do you than do laundry, so I'm not complaining.”

“Yeah?” he sweetly dips to leave a chaste peck on your lips. “I'd rather do you, too.”

[cheolhub]

birthday bash ask!!~

let’s eat (🤤)- sarrrr this is dangerous!! i’m going to have to request mr kim mingyu (you know!!) and i’ll let you decide on a prompt(s) to use! (trust you with my all! gimme a dm if u want me to choose hehe)

5:13 p.m. — kim mingyu

prompt. “you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me. “

wc. 955

warning. mingyu fucks reader in a dryer (very unrealistic), needy!gyu, baby fever + marriage kink (my fav combo), use of mommy [x1], unprotected sex, creampie, manhandling, SO much dirty talk, pet names [baby, angel] — MINORS DNI 18+

note. thank u for sending in an ask lu,, i’m so sorry if you dont like the piece or the prompt i used !!! i know it’s a lil intense and lacks a lot of detail 😭 i was in the mood to write needy gyu with baby fever without thinking abt logistics so,,, here it is (also im sorry it’s so short </3) [not proofread if u see a typo, i literally didn’t write this]

mingyu is a sucker. you’re not sure there’s a diagnosis for what he has other than a severe case of baby fever. it's not when he sees babies that sets him off, no, it’s you. you doing anything remotely domestic like chores around the house for that matter. when you’re cooking him dinner, loading the dishwasher, dusting and sweeping in your cute little house slippers, and his personal favorite, unloading the dryer.

to put it simply, he just can’t wait to give you a baby so he can come home and spoil his gorgeous little family. the mere mention of even wanting a future with him has him weak in the knees. 

it’s why your his shirt is flipped over your ass and your panties are pushed halfway down your legs the second he finds you in the laundry room. “gyu, what the fuck are you– ah!” you cry out feeling his spit-slicked cock slip inside of you. you fall into the pile of warm clothes, the smell of clean linen filling your nose. “baby!”

mingyu groans, cock twitching at the word that’s had his head spinning for weeks, “that’s right, ‘m gonna give you a baby, angel,” he says, hands gripping your hips for dear life, the flesh of your skin nearly interlaced between his fingers. 

you moan loudly, but it’s muffled by the wild white sheets in the machine. your skin burns up as if it weren’t already on fire thanks to the fresh heat of the dryer. you knew mingyu was ruthless and needy when it came to getting his dick wet, but never would you have thought you’d be in this position as he pounds into you.

“fuck, i love you so much. love you and this fucking pussy so so much. ‘m gonna fill you up ‘n ‘m gonna marry you,” he mutters, eyes watching the way you swallow his dick whole, disappearing as it goes in and out. “gonna make you a pretty little mommy, make you my fuckin’ wife.” 

you’re partially convinced that your boyfriend has gone crazy, but the words head straight to your core, the increase in your arousal solidifying everything mingyu had said. 

his breathing becomes labored, soft moans growing louder as they morph into deep groans. your ears pick all of it up even with the walls of the dryer attempting to drown him out. “tell me you wan’ it, angel, t-tell me you wan’na baby, a pretty ring… tell me you want me forever.” 

you just can’t say no, the offer is too good. you want everything and more with this man, so you tell him exactly what he wants to hear. “i do, i wan’ it, gyu, w-wanna make you a d-dad! w-wanna marry you!”

a guttural groan erupts in his chest and his thrusts pick up, the tip of his cock ramming into your cervix eliciting a loud, muffled cry as you scream into the cloth. “baby, you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me.” he babbles, overstimulated tears pricking at his eyes. “i’m so close, angel. gonna fill this cunt with all my cum ‘n get you pregnant. it’s gonna take. s-swear to fucking god, it’s gonna take.”

your hands mercilessly fist at the cotton, wrinkling it in your tight grasp. you think the heat from the freshly dried sheets melts your brain because now you’re sobbing, incoherently babbling out pleas, but the only thing that can be heard in the mess of your words is the chant of his nickname, “gyu, gyu, gyu!” you clench tightly around his cock, gummy walls molding to the shape of him as they’re made to.

and, fuck, mingyu’s abdomen tightens at the euphoric feeling. his balls draw up, thrusts turning sloppy and inconsistent as he fucks into you. “shit, baby,” he mewls, his grip on your hips near bruising. “i’m gonna cum.” 

all it takes is another tight hug from your cunt and he’s a mess. his cock throbs inside the heat of your stretched cunt before he slams into you and stills, his tip pressed right against your cervix as he empties his load. 

 it’s the ripple effect that triggers your own orgasm. you moan and whine as you feel his heavy seed filling you to the brim and painting your used walls white. all the while, the knot that’s been steadily forming in the pit of your tummy completely unravels and you’re left a shaking, crying mess inside a dryer full of wrinkled, tear soaked cotton. 

it takes him longer than usual to come down from his orgasm, but he eventually eases his grip on your waist as he finds his mind again. he pulls your near-limp body out of the dryer and you let out a broken whine as you feel his cock slip out, creating a mess of cum on the ground. he doesn’t really mind seeing his load go to waste knowing he’ll pump you full the second you’ve recovered.

you slump in his arms while he wordlessly presses kisses into your hair. when you whine again, he murmurs apologetically. “sorry i was so rough, are you okay?”

you nod, still trying to catch your breath and regain stability. “it’s okay. i’m okay. just need a sec,”

he doesn’t say anything for a minute or so, holding you in his arms till you’re able to stand on your own but then he whispers. “can we go again? are you up for it?”

you laugh softly at his need. “we can, but can we try the bed this time? do you think you’ll make it to our room without fucking me against one of the walls?”

he shrugs, grinning to himself. “we’ll see.”

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[plumbobpaparazzi]

Peek into my Mods folder...

This is dedicated to @alltimefail-sims or anyone who needs a little help with lag!

I have several mods I refer to as "efficiency mods" that are little quality-of-life tweaks that make the game smoother for me, either by reducing lag or reducing immersion-breaking hiccups. As always, your mileage may vary, but hopefully this is helpful to someone. :) List of mods under cut to keep your dash clean.

No Intro - Whether you are trying to 50/50 your mods, testing new CC, or just need to shave time off your game loading... get rid of the cinematic intro.

Free Will Delay - Do your sims curbstomp their queue and proceed to fuck off to something unrelated? Yeah, me too, until I got this mod. From the mod description: "[E]very time you tell your sim to do something, they will be forced to listen! …For 5 minutes. Then they get free will back again. This is probably why controlling Sims in Sims 4 feels so bad! Because you lose control the second they start doing what they're told. Even if you queue up actions, the total time is STILL five minutes- because it goes from the last direction you give your sim. So you can tell them to do 3 hours worth of stuff while paused…and they'll get control back after 5 minutes. This mod changes this timeframe to an option of your choosing, to make controlling your sims feel more rigid."

Simulation Unclogger - This is an oldie-but-goodie mod from Turbodriver that helps interrupt when Sims get stuck in an endless action loop.

Evolve/Fertilize All Plants - Kind of weird how we can Harvest All but you can't Evolve or Fertilize All, right?

No Empty Venues When Arriving - Helps with the issue of going to a community lot and waiting around for Sims to show up. May cause increased lag if you are bottlenecked by RAM.

Food Autonomy Overhaul - Stops your stupid Sims from eating ingredients, AND allows Sims who hate cooking to autonomously grab quick meals. Didn't know they wouldn't do that? Yeah. That's a thing.

Don't Do That! Version 1 and Version 2 - Removes autonomy on annoying actions that can't be affected by MCCC tuner, like reactions and some trait idle animations.

Less Obsession - Lowers autonomy for certain things without disabling entirely. I still want my Sims to paint, but I don't want them to start a new figure painting any time they are left unsupervised.

Smarter Self-Care - Makes Sims prioritize their needs better before they are uncomfortable. I only use the packages for NPCs and Pets.

NPC Relationship Autonomy Fix - Stops random Sims from breaking into your house to ask to be your BFF (and tunes the requirements so they actually have to be your friend first.)

Buy More Upgrade Parts - Allows you to buy a package of 50 upgrade parts for when you are grinding out handiness or robotics.

The following mods are all by Bienchen and don't have a direct page for each package. You can search by name pretty easily on their website. I recommend flipping through and grabbing anything you find useful - I have a total of 368 of their mods installed. Here are some highlights:

novisibleecoeffects - The aurora will nuke your framerate. I know it's pretty, but oh my god.

noautonomousbakewhitecake - Does what it says on the tin, keeps your house from being overrun by cakes.

harvestnogroupinteraction - Stops club members from autonomously harvesting plants. Those are MY death flowers!

lessemotionidles - Reduces unnecessary idle animations from emotions, great for preventing your Sims from looking flirty at inappropriate times...

lesspreferenceidles - Stops your sims from thinking about how much they like fishing/fitness/etc. when they should be doing things.

happytoddleridledisabled - Stops the idling from the Happy Toddler trait. SUPER useful for family gameplay.

laundry_buffsandsoloidlesfix - Stops or reduces idles related to laundry. It's just clothes, bro

eldertweak - Reduces elder animation idles.

hastopeewalkstyleforchildonly - Helps get your Sims to the toilet in a reasonable amount of time.

tinyhousebuffhider - I know I'm in a Tiny Home, I don't need a moodlet.

lottraiteffectshider - Hides the little floating lightbulbs around Sims heads from lot traits.

notraitnotifications - I know my geek likes video games, I don't need the pop-up every time I play.

noholidayoutcomenotification - Please don't rub my nose in the fact I forgot to celebrate.

nofestivalnotifications and nofestivalnotificationsound - Helpful when a pack is new, but years later... no thanks.

noenrollmentandscholarshipinfo - No more info screen about the two universities. I think most of us know it all by now.

nouprootplant - Never cry because of a misclick again

simschangeoutfitwhenhotorcold - Should have already been autonomous, but alas.

novisualpoliteintroeffects - I don't know if I am the only one, but the glowing really bothers me.

restaurantsittweak - Sit down and eat your dang food! No more wandering Sims.

longerprom - Takes 6 hours instead of 4 so you can actually do something.

I probably have other QoL mods that could be helpful, but these are my recommendations to start with. Love to all the modders that keep this game playable <3

[simspaghetti]

I've decided to make this a series! I'll be doing a modpack list for each EP - you can find them all linked here under 'Modpack Lists' :)

If you have any other suggestions of mods I should add to this list, please let me know!

Onto my recommended mods for Ambitions! ⬇️

Twinsimming's Dirty Laundry Mod & Kap's Children Can: Do Laundry

Twinsimming's laundry mod adds a bit more incentive for your sims to actually do laundry! If a load hasn't been done in a while, they begin to complain about stale clothes & start getting smelly - Kap's children can series is great overall - But they specifically have a module just for laundry which means your kids can help out around the house a bit more

SimmerZoZo's No autonomous reaction to simbots

Sims dropping everything they're doing to react to a simbot (even when they've met the simbot before) is incredibly annoying when there's a simbot in the household - this mod fixes that annoyance!

Fewer Thank-You Calls for Firefighters

There are several flavours to choose from with this mod, you can disable thank-you calls altogether or choose a lower percentage chance that they will happen, either way, it makes them less annoying!

No Ghost Ambience & Scarier Ghosts

These are two mods which improve the ghost-hunting profession! The 'No Ghost Ambience' is just a small fix which makes ghosts a bit less noisy, but the 'Scarier Ghosts Mod' can cause hauntings to be deadly for your sims if they're not careful!

Ghost Catching Skill Mod

This adds a skill journal for ghost catching to the game, along with some skill challenges for your sims to complete! This feels like it should have been a feature which came with the expansion and fits in very well with vanilla-ish gameplay :)

XCAS Expanded Tattoo Locations OR Nraas Expanded Tattoo Locations

These mods both do exactly the same thing, which is allow for tattoos to be placed in more locations on your sims - which variation you go for depends on whether you have Nraas MasterController or not, I personally use the Nraas MC version but if you don't have that mod then I'd recommend the other one instead

[teddyeyeseddie]

The Cherrywood Motel

rockstar!eddie x reader

warnings: drug use, general rockstar lifestyle

(a/n- rockstar eddie? housekeeper reader? sign me up! thank you @lofaewrites for looking this over for me, my beta forever ✨ I have two more parts for this, it may be longer we shall see!)

masterlist

The smell of bleach invades your nostrils as you push through the laundry room of The Cherrywood Motel. Your uniform skims across your thighs, the baby blue ribbon cinching your waist flowing easily behind you. You run into a few co-workers, older ladies that have worked for the family for years. Each woman bids you a soft good morning as you collect the linens you would be needing for the day. 

You load up your cart and push out into the cold crisp fall. It’s nearing 10 o’clock, checkout time coming in a hurry as you watch the parking lot before you fill with guests packing their cars to leave. 

You push to your first room when the clock hits 10:15. You’d given the occupants more than enough time to leave, so you’re not really worried about bothering a guest. 

You knock several times on the door, no answer coming from the other side. You knock once more, just to be sure. Silence. You take out your key and begin opening the door when suddenly it swings open. 

On the opposite side of the door stands a tall, lean, beautiful man. He has inky black tattoos creeping up his arms, the dark contrast on the skin drawing your eyes to anywhere and everywhere on the man’s body. 

“It’s’ 10 o’clock, what do you want, sweets?” The man groans as he holds back the long brown hairs that have slipped from the bun resting atop his head. 

“S’ actually time to check out?” you say as if its a question, the man's eyes widen comically as he rushes back inside. He closes the door in your face but returns moments later with a shirt on and clunky Dr. Martens on his feet. 

“Came in so fucked last night I must’ve only paid for one night,” he mumbles to himself as he makes his way back to the main office to settle his predicament. 

You’re left in a daze, the beautiful man leaving a lingering tingle in your heart. He was just so pretty. 

You were used to pretty men but not pretty like this man. You lived in a small town outside of Nashville, too many wannabe cowboys and country stars for your taste. You’d managed to meet a few nice men in your small town, but nothing that ever stuck. But he, he stuck with you. You remember his big brown eyes, smudged with eyeliner, his tattooed abdomen, his impossibly long fingers and even the way he smelled. It left you speechless outside of your next room, eyes scanning the expanse between his room and the office. 

Just as you’re about to peek into the motel room, you see him walk out of the office. He flashes you a smile and holds something up in his hands. You squint and see it's a pair of keys, you squint a little harder and notice the unfamiliar yellow keychain adorning the set. You send him back a smile and continue with your work, making the beds in the muggy room, scrubbing toilets and leaving complimentary soaps on each pillow.

It wasn’t glamorous work, you weren’t exactly busting at the seams when someone asked you what you did for a living. But, it paid your bills and paid them well. 

You mindlessly hum to the radio as you finish up mopping the bathroom in your final room of the day. You carefully fold up the extra towels once you're finished mopping. You wipe your hands off on the skirt of your uniform before rolling up the cord to your vacuum. You place everything back on your cart, rolling it down past the man’s old  room which now lay empty. 

You park your cart and make your way to the breakroom, pushing inside and plopping down across from your co-worker, Christa. 

“Can you believe Eddie Munson is here?” You cock your head to the side, confusion evident on your face as you look at your friend. You get up from your place at the table, walking to the vending machine and admiring your choices as Christa drones on. 

“You know Eddie Munson, Corroded Coffin Eddie Munson? Dropped out of highschool to form the most metal band of the century? Does that ring any bells?” She questions as she watches you fish dimes out of the pocket of your skirt. 

“I listen to Bowie and Kate Bush, I dont think I’m the one to be asking about metal,” you respond, pushing the coins into the machine and mindlessly punching in the number you always do. A-3. 

“He’s got like, gorgeous long brown hair? Loads of tattoos?” she continues to pry, she knows you’re familiar when your cheeks burn red. 

“AHA! You do know who I’m talking about!” she yells, rushing you to sit back down so she can hear all about it. 

You throw your treat on the table before you and take your seat back across from Christa. 

“I uh- woke him up this morning,” you state, a little shy to be talking about a customer so freely. 

“He answered the door all confused. He wanted to know why I was waking him up at 10 and I told him it was time to check out. So he freaks and rushes to the office after getting dressed. Nothing really special,” you shrug your shoulders as you play with the wrapper of the Hostess cupcake in front of you. 

Christa shrieks at your words, fanning herself as she imagines herself in your shoes. 

“So he was shirtless?” she questions. You offer her a small nod. She squeals even louder, an older lady who works in the laundry rooming shushing you two as she microwaves her dinner. 

“I saw him again, after that,” you state matter of factly. 

“He had a new key, had a yellow keychain?” you open the dessert in your hand and take a bite. 

“Yellow?” Christa Questions. You nod as you chew, Christmas mouth dropping as you confirm her question.

“That's the long term room,”

You leave the break room that evening with your mind whirling, surely he only wanted the room for the additional features. There was no way Eddie Munson would stay at The Cherrywood for that long. 

You’re walking to your car that is parked behind the office, shuffling with your keys. You spot a small ember to your right, you turn your head towards the source of the light and see Eddie Munson staring at you, his face lit by the Camel he is smoking. He gives you a small salute as you slip into your car, you only offer him a shy smile in return.

You drive home that night with the smell of cigarettes lingering on your clothes, your mind swooning at the imagine of his stubbly face lit by a cig. You toss and turn that night in your small apartment, the image of those brown eyes bore into your mind every time you tried to close your eyes.

The next morning you sneak into the main office where the small continental breakfast is offered. You sneak past your boss to the coffee station, pouring yourself a heaping cup before turning to walk to the sugar station. As you’re turning around, you collide with a firm body, expletives fly as does the coffee in your hand, sending it straight down your uniform, warm liquid causing your thin uniform skirt to cling to your stomach and thighs.   

“Shit- m sorry sweets,” the man you now know at Eddie kindly offers, “Wasn’t even payin attention,” You look up at him, frowning when you see his beautiful brown eyes are hidden by dark round frames. 

“Probably cause of these,” You mumble as you reach your hand up to take the glasses off his face. You’re met with those brown eyes that filled your dreams the night prior. There’s still eyeliner smudged under his eyes, the dark presence bringing out the golden flecks in his eyes. You frown when you really begin to study his face, his nose is dry and cracked, the skin around the nostril irritated and puffy. His eyes are rimmed red, like a permanent kiss of tears. His hair disheveled and heaping on top of his head. 

Eddie’s heart pangs when he sees you recoil at the sight of him, he averts his eyes and reaches for his glasses. You snatch your hand away, looking up at him. 

“S’ just you're too pretty for that, Eddie,” You fold the glasses up in your hand before gently placing them in the palm of Eddie’s, you turn on your heels and rush to your first clean of the day, successfully locking yourself in the room before Eddie can find you. 

Eddie curses to himself when he watches you walk, no run away. You leave him there bewildered, not quite sure what to do. He wanted to run and explain that he’s trying, trying to be better. He wants to tell you it was just one line but everyone who knows him knows that’s bullshit. One line is never one line with Eddie Munson. 

It’s one line, two lines, a random fuck, three lines, four lines, a broken chair, five lines a broken tv, 6 lines and somehow he wakes up naked in his guest bedroom. It's a shot for shot, line for line, cut throat kind of party when Eddie Munson is around. 

But now, standing here, he has this itch inside him, one he has never even entertained scratching in his years to fame. This want to actually do better and this need to prove to you that this isn't the Eddie Munson the world cracks him out to be. 

His second day there, he finds your cart and places an old Metallica t-shirt on your cart with a little note, “Sorry I dumped your coffee all over you :( xx” 

You giggle at the sloppy handwriting, you smile when you see him across the courtyard of the small motel. He sends you a wink which causes you to blush furiously. He lets out a small chuckle at your obvious flustered demeanor. He tries to wave you over but you’re quick to scurry in another direction, off to another clean. 

His third day there he stops at your cart when you’re leaving your last clean of the day.

“Hey uh- I need?” He trails off as he looks around your cart, eyes lighting up when he sees the extra complimentary soaps on your cart, “SOAP! I need more soap,”

You look at him quizzically, head cocking to the side as he lets out a nervous laugh. You simply reach for the soap and hand him some, smiling slightly when your hands touch. 

“Names Eddie,” he says softly.

“I know,” You respond, eyes never meeting his as you walk away towards the breakroom. 

His fourth day there he is bound to know your name, he even stops Christa to try and wiggle it out of her.

“She- she's really pretty?” Christa’s eyebrows raise, knowing exactly who he is talking about. 

“She always wears little white keds, with the ruffle socks?” Christa nods, crossing her arms over her chest as she weighs the benefits of revealing any information to Eddie. 

“I just wanna know her name..” he mumbles, pleading eyes looking down at her. 

“Think she’s gonna have to tell you that one,” Christa pats his thigh before heading to her car, she bids Eddie a soft goodnight and drives away, leaving him alone and wondering all about who you are. 

His fifth day there, you’re standing in the middle of the office, suitcases all around you. You’re flustered and upset talking to your boss. 

He’s watching from the outside, sitting by his door smoking a cigarette. Your boss rounds the counter, grabbing some of the bags before leading you to the room next to Eddie’s, the other long-term stay. 

You pass by him without a word, your boss simply offering him a nod of his head as he passes him. Your boss lets you into the room, giving you a quick hug assuring you everything would be okay. 

Your eyes meet Eddie’s as you go to shut the door, he offers you a small smile that you softly return but shut the door quickly so as to not start any conversation. You were over the night and you dont think your poor brain could handle another dose of being rewired by Eddie Munson. 

Your apartment had flooded, ruining much of the furniture you owned but sparing your more beloved pieces. Your boss agreed to let you stay in the other long-term as long as you were willing to help extra in the laundry room in the mornings. You agreed, thankful you had such a wonderful work family around you. 

You unpack your bags slowly, the night wearing on you. You check the clock and see that it is nearing 1am. Your boss has given you the day off tomorrow so you were excited to get to sleep in. As you lay your head on the pillow you hear a soft voice bleeding through the wall behind your head. 

“Her eyes and words are so icy

Oh but she burns, like rum on the fire

Hot and fast and angry as she can be

I walk my days on a wire” 

You hear the same words over and over, different inflections and notes flooding through the walls. If it was anyone else, it’d drive you crazy. But knowing it’s Eddie, it makes your heart skip a beat. You feel like he’s there, singing just for you, putting on a show for you that no one else can see or hear. 

You fall asleep like that, the perfected verse softly bleeding into the room, the twang of guitar accompanying the words comforting you. 

You wake the next morning with a crick in your neck, you slowly roll out of bed heading towards the shower in hopes the heat will soothe your aching muscles. You hop in as soon as it is warm enough, letting the water aid the painkillers you had just taken. Once you’re through with your shower, you slowly climb out and wrap a towel around your exposed body, heading back to the main room to get dressed for the day. 

You settle for a soft skirt and Eddie’s Metallica shirt, you shove on your Keds and make your way out the door, shrieking immediately when you open the door to find Eddie Munson standing there. 

“Shit! M’ sorry sweets.. Was just gonna knock and see if you wanted anything from town,” he soothes, hands coming to rest on your tense shoulders. Once you finally calm down a bit, you’re able to respond. 

“Was just going to town myself,” you reply, smoothing out your skirt and looking down at the ground. 

“I could take you?” he questions, eyes hopeful as they cast onto you. You switch your weight from foot to foot, contemplating the idea of being so close to Eddie for so long. You look back at his eyes, his usual unsure eyes filled with hope. 

“O-okay but I’ll drive,” you respond, looking up at him, cheeks burning at the smirk that plays on his face. 

“Sure thing sweets,” he rasps, turning to lock his door. He’s wearing baggy blue jeans, reebok sneakers and a shirt that barely rides up his tummy. His hair is pulled up on top of his head, bangs framing his face. 

He follows you to your car, a baby blue ford fiesta. You loved your car, it was relatively new and oh so cute. Eddie smiles upon seeing it, whistling as he approaches the door.  

“Mmm cute car for a cute girl,” he says with a grin, ducking into your car. He buckles his seatbelt, sniffling as he does so. Your heart breaks for a moment, knowing just what was going on. 

You stay silent during the car ride, the odd sniffle breaking the silence here and there. You arrive at your local grocery store, turning your car off once you park. Eddie pushes his sunglasses up his nose, adjusting his bangs before exiting the car. 

You round the car, making your way inside, Eddie right next to you the whole time. You browse the aisles looking for the things you need, stopping and picking up a treat here and there. You’re at checkout when you spot the Hostess cupcakes, your hand reaching out for a chocolate one but a hand is quicker than yours. Your hand meets the top of Eddies but you quickly pull it away when you feel the cold of his hands. 

“Sorry-” you mumble as you place your items on the belt before you. 

“S’ okay. Here,” he hands you a pack of cupcakes, smiling at you before grabbing another pack for himself. 

You both buy your respective items, Eddie taking your paper bag, carrying one in both arms. He puts them in the back of your car, settling in next to you in the passenger seat. 

“Listen- I know I’m kind of intimidating and I’m sure you’ve looked into who I am, but that's not really me…” he tries to offer. You stay silent before taking a deep breath in. 

“E-eddie, I know people crack you up to be crazy and you haven’t shown me that. But..” 

Eddie winces, preparing for what words come out of your mouth next. 

“I- I can see it. In your eyes, some semblance of truth,” you stare up at him for a while, his hands coming to take off his sunglasses to reveal those beautiful red-rimmed eyes. 

“S’ part of the lifestyle sweets,” he rasps, smirking but letting it fall when he sees how unamused you are. 

“Doesn’t have to be..”

[weaselle]

@ffoxer howdy! happy to oblige :)

i used to have a dresser and a bunch of hangers in my closet and like, closet organizer thingamabobs, but instead of using any of that stuff my clothes were always in several piles around my room.

And i felt shitty about it all the time but couldn't seem to make myself the kind of person who kept their clothes folded and organized. My room was constantly cluttered with clothes like drifts of snow scattered and piled here and there. Like, i felt really REALLY shitty about that. Deep shame

any ADHDers and spoonies out there relate?

SO one day, i said to myself, what if i'm okay the way i am? What if i just need to refine how i already do things a little bit instead of insisting on reinventing my entire identity?

Did i really care about being the kind of person who's socks were rolled just so, and whose shirts were all folded perfectly and arranged by color or whatever?

no

What i did care about was not living in a cluttered, messy, unorganized, embarrassing space.

And it turns out my piles WERE an organization system. What's more, my piles were a system that had been shaped by the way i actually use my clothes, it was a system that made sense for how i live my life. And i bet it's the same for most of you who relate to what i've been saying so far.

There were the clothes that were dirty, the clothes that had been worn but could be worn again, and the clean clothes (often dumped from the washer to the bed with the intent of folding and putting away, then slept next to when that didn't happen, and finally transferred to the floor next to my bed or piled in my closet once i gave up)

These three piles (dirty, clean, wear again) made up my "i wear this stuff all the time" wardrobe, and then everything else was still in the dresser i never actually used, with a few remaining almost-never-worns hanging in the closet.

This made my dresser, essentially, just a bin of clothes i could label "rarely wear"

And the thing i hated about my piles was that they looked messy, and took up too much space, and cluttered my room, and anyone who came into my room instantly assumed i was a disaster of a human because that's what it looked like. And, honestly, that's what it felt like too.

But i could change all of that and still have piles if i just... put my piles in bins! Then they would clearly be on purpose. And contained. And on purpose contained piles aren't a mess! They're a tidy organizational system.

So i got rid of my dresser and most of my hangers and i bought four of those plastic bins with the lids that you can get anywhere from hardware stores to target. Now, if you want to inhabit a fancier lifestyle, you can get nicer bins, they make all kinds, from canvas to wicker to polished wood or whatever suits your style and budget, I'm currently using the plastic ones, but when i move i'm planning on getting something more like this

the point is, these bins contain my piles without me having to change the piles at all.

now instead of having to sort all that stuff into different drawers i just have 4 simple bins

1: clean clothes

2: dirty clothes

3: stuff i might wear a second (or third) time

4: clothes i almost never wear

remember how those first three piles make up my "wear all the time" stuff? Well, each of the first two bins are big enough to contain all those clothes (which for me is about two loads of laundry).

I have a smaller bin for clothes i've worn but could wear again. And the last one, almost-never-wear, is actually the biggest one. And naturally a couple almost-never-wear things still get hung in the closet.

So when my "wear all the time" bin is empty, that means the dirty bin is about full, and i just add the might-wear-again stuff to it and carry that bin to the washer. When it comes out of the dryer, i still follow my natural instincts to dump them in a pile and forget about them, it's just now i dump that pile into the clean bin, where they belong.

And when i'm digging for something in the bin and can't find it, just like when i would dig in my closet, i can just dump it all out on my bed to find things like i used to, but then it goes back in the bin with a sweep of the arm.

The clothes naturally sort themselves out this way, too. Say every time you go to do your laundry because you "have nothing to wear" there are the same few items left in the bottom of your clean bin. Well those are clearly part of your almost-never-wears and you can dump them in that bin before you wash your laundry. When the weather gets cold, i put most of my shorts and tank-tops in the almost-never-wear bin. I make room for them by taking out my everyday winter wear to go in the clean bin.

I can put the bins where it makes the most sense for how i use my room naturally. For instance, my sweatshirts and jeans i might wear again always used to wind up draped over the back of my desk chair, so now i put my could-wear-again bin right by my desk. If I want my room to be extra tidy, i just stack all the bins in the closet where the dresser used to be, which takes like twenty seconds.

and the BEST part is, because my bins are just the piles i was naturally already creating, my clothes stay in their bins, which is inarguably a system of organization, and my room is actually clean and orderly, no messy clothes piles in sight!

i did a similar thing with my paper piles and now there's very little clutter and i don't feel like a failure of a person about my room the way i used to!

I have accomplished Clean Organized Room without having to change who i am or how i live! 10/10 highly recommend

[realmennnnn]

With Connor away on his 5-mile hike, you thoroughly clean everything in sight. You start with his laundry, including each of the glorious socks he had worn over the past week. You give all of them a brief sniff before placing them in the laundry machine. While sniffing, you become terrified that you may not have a single item of clothing to sleep with that night. You pray that Connor will give you the clothes he wore on his hike or at least his destroyed Nike sneakers to sleep with. Next, you clean the entire home, scrubbing every room and organizing any out of place items, including Connor’s massive stack of dirty dishes. You also spend a particularly long amount of time in both his mudroom and bathroom, using your tongue to clean his muddy footprints off the floor as well as all of his pee off the toilet. Afterwards, you give each of his sneakers a good cleaning, yet again using your tongue with impeccable detail while savoring each blade of grass and splotch of dirt.

With the first load of laundry done, you throw all of his bedding in the washer. You iron and fold each clothing item and can’t help but stare at his XL sized shirts, shorts, underwear, and socks once they’ve been perfectly cleaned and pressed. You recognize how lucky you are to even be in the presence of these items.

By now, it’s been three hours, and you’ve heard nothing from Connor. You become nervous that something may have happened but neglect to reach out since it’s not your place to bother your potential alpha. Instead, you move outside, mowing the entire lawn and weeding Connor’s select number of plants.

With sweat running down your entire body, you head back inside to make Connor’s bed with his freshly cleaned and pressed sheets. Finally, you head out of the house on your way to grocery store, dropping the trash into the necessary bin on your way out. You hope you’ll be allowed to wash his car tomorrow since you weren’t given access today.

Halfway to the store, and nearly five hours after Connor left, you receive a message from your Lord. “Hey, faggy. The lads wanted to do some day drinking, so I’m out with them. I’ll be home in a couple hours. You better be keeping yourself busy. By the way, pick up some dog food if you make it to the grocery store.”

You have no idea why Connor would need dog food. He certainly doesn’t have a dog. However, you refuse to question your master. You’re certain that if Connor says he needs dog food, then he needs dog food. He’s an alpha after all, so he knows best! You’re just happy that you had anticipated Connor’s desire for you to grocery shop.

As you enter the store, you couldn’t help but look at every possible item. You needed to make sure that you bought every item Connor could possibly want. You pick up six varieties of fresh meat and fish, a large helping of fruits and vegetables, and several hearty grains. Finally, you make your way to the dog food. As you look into your cart, you realize that you were likely to spend more than $200 on Connor’s food alone. You hoped he’d share some of his scraps since you hadn’t bought anything for yourself. With finances in mind, you went for the cheapest dog food possible, made with purely synthetic materials. After all, Connor didn’t have a dog, so you didn’t see a point in overspending on this item - your mistake.

After checking out at a whopping $275, you walk home, carrying an obscene amount of groceries. With four bags hanging off either arm and a bag of dog food wrapped between them, your body aches by the time you reach the grocery store parking lot! You walk as fast as you can, making it back to Connor’s house in roughly 25 minutes. You breathe heavily the entire way and nearly start crying. You remind yourself that this is only true since you’re a weak, pathetic faggot.

As soon as your home, you start your final chore of the day, cooking Connor’s glorious Sunday night meal. You realize he could be home any moment, so you get to work rapidly. You carefully put together a salad and start cooking a box of pasta. Then, you cut up even more vegetables, making a batch of tomato sauce from scratch. You don’t dare prepare a subpar dinner, and you know you must have it done on time. Connor comes first after all! You race to the finish line, hearing keys jingling in the door nearly 40 minutes later. With only the food done, you realize the dishes will have to wait until later, and you pray Connor won’t be upset.

You run over to the front door and drop to your knees. You bow your head as anticipation grows within you. You hope Connor will be pleased with your housework and cooking. Even more, though, you simply cannot wait to see your 6’3” and 220 pound master as well as his glorious size 13s. Connor steps through the front door, and you stare down at his beautiful sneakers and socks. They’re caked in dirt, and their pungent smell hits your nose with gusto. You’re immediately enamored and begin showering each sneaker with kisses, taking great joy in their scent and appearance.

Connor stumbles a bit and leans back against the door. He crosses one foot over the other and flashes a devilishly sexy grin at you. With his balance back, he steps around your weak frame. You can tell that he’s wasted and, as a result, likely highly sadistic. He drops his bag on the ground and makes his way to the couch. With such a hefty bang, you know the bag is full; you’re happy to know that his shopping trip was successful.

He lays back on the couch and turns his eyes toward the football game you had turned on for him. His sneakered feet dangle beautifully off the side of the sofa. He lets out a huge belch, and you wish you were next to him, giving it a sniff. However, like a proper fag, you wait patently by the front door for further instruction. He pulls his pants down on the couch, leaving them hanging by his knees. You look at his beautiful cock, remembering that just two days ago, you were afforded the privilege of sucking and riding it. He calls you over, using his fingers to gesture as well. “I need to take a nap, but I want my dick to be well taken care of while I’m asleep. Come over here and hold my cock in your mouth until I wake up.”

You crawl over to the couch and kneel in front of his crotch. You look up and notice that his eyes are already shut. You wonder if it would be proper to remove his sneakers from his feet. You hold off since he hasn’t directed you to do so. You wonder how sweaty his feet will be by the time his sneakers finally come off.

You crank your neck into an extremely uncomfortable position and wrap your lips around his cock. Your knees already hurt from the wooden floors, and you can tell that your neck will be in immense pain within minutes. You know it’s going to be a long few hours, but you also know you won’t get access to his feet unless you do exactly what Connor tells you.

As soon as your lips wrap around Connor’s cock, he lets out an ungodly amount of piss, made up of 100% beer. You hear him snicker for a second, laughing at the fact that you had no idea that his piss would be flooding your mouth. He knows you’ll do whatever it takes to swallow every drop. And, he’s right; per usual, you diligently swallow every single drop.

When he finishes peeing, you keep his cock in your mouth, the taste of leftover piss and dick sweat rubbing against your tongue. You take his balls into your mouth, and the flavors grow exponentially. “Good boy,” you hear Connor say. With that, you try your hardest to get comfortable, knowing you’ll be kneeling here tasting his funk and piss for hours to come - just as he asked you to do.

Connor doesn’t wake up once during his three hour nap but somehow lets out several large farts. You take pride in knowing you helped coax and keep him asleep. You also take enjoyment in the flavor of his dick funk as well as the smell of his farts. You can tell that those farts were inspired by an immense amount of greasy food and beer. They smell wonderful.

As Connor finally comes back to life, your head and knees begin to wobble. You can tell that your neck will be in pain for days to come. He reaches for his phone and starts scrolling. With Connor awake, you continue to hold his dick in your mouth but now count down the moments until you’ll be allowed to move. The anticipation of potentially being allowed out of your current position makes the pain grow ten fold.

For the third time of the day, piss starts filling your mouth, and you hope this will mark the end of your time as a human dick pouch. The piss tastes even more stale than the one from a few hours ago, but you revel in every second of it. Maybe swallowing piss is not only a godly blessing but also the purest indulgence known to a faggot.

“Get your mouth off my cock, faggot,” Connor says abruptly with his piss complete. “Time for some of that sauce you got cooking. The pasta better be ready. I ain’t waiting. Go make me a plate.” You’re happy to know that you planned appropriately for this evening.

He begins to sit up from his nap and nearly kicks you in the face. “I told you to get moving. Chop chop.” You give each sneaker another kiss and crawl to the kitchen. You hope you’ll be allowed to enjoy the dirt from his shoes as well as the foot sweat from his socks as he eats. After all, you haven’t consumed a single thing all day.

You stand up and pull the pasta out of the fridge. You place a heaping serving on to a plate, adding your homemade tomato sauce and salad on top. As you get back down on to your knees, you place the plate on your back as well as a set of silverware and a glass of water in each hand. As you crawl back to his feet, you keep your back and hands as straight as possible, refusing to let any food or water end up on the floor. However, you wouldn’t have minded being forced to lick it up. Your stomach was rumbling louder and louder by the minute.

After approaching the couch, Connor takes the plate from your back and puts it on the coffee table. You hand him his water and silverware and then bow your head, so it is resting on his sneakers. You pray he’ll let you peel them off; the steam floating off of them is far too temping. Instead, Connor rises up from the couch unexpectedly, nearly kicking you in the face once again.

“Ay, faggot. Where’s the dog food? I can hear your stomach rumbling. It’s fucking annoying.”

It’s at this time that it clicks for you. The dog food is for you. You’ll be eating dog food in place of human food for the remainder of your life - should Connor allow you to serve him for that long. “Umm, Sir Connor, it’s in the pantry, my Lord,” you say with your head still bowed.

You hear the pantry door open and the big bag of dog food moved around. Connor grabs a bowl and starts filling it. “You know how much of this you’re supposed to feed a dog? I don’t want to underfeed you.” He pauses for a second, letting out a light laugh. “Eh, never mind. You’re a faggot. What would you know?” he snickers, dumping another serving into the bowl.

He makes his way back to the couch and drops the bowl of food on to the floor. “Aw shit, faggy. You just emptied my bladder. I ain’t got any liquid for your food.” Your head remains bowed, sniffing at your meal, but the only thing you can smell are his glorious feet. You hope that smell will help you get this treacherous dog food down. “Move your head, faggot,” Connor says. He works up a loogie and spits it into the bowl. “That will have to do I guess. Now give me a bark and show me how excited you are for your first faggot meal. I thought you’d enjoy this type of food given how much time you spend with the pups,” he says as he wiggles his toes within his sneakers. “Show me how serious you are about serving me. Remember, service doesn’t only include paying for my livelihood and doing all of the chores. It also includes finding ways to spend as little money on yourself as possible. By only eating dog food and drinking my recycled beverages, I estimate nearly $60 in savings each week! That money goes straight back into my pocket! Now bark, faggy.”

You immediately start barking, letting your butt wiggle back and forth too. He didn’t ask for that, but you thought it would play into the effect nicely. He lets out another laugh. “Alright, faggot, go ahead.” You’re happy to know that he enjoyed your act.

You dive your head into the bowl and enjoy your first few loogie-covered bites. By bite number four, all of the loogie is gone, and the flavor becomes progressively worse. You don’t slow down on eating, though; you’ve never felt this hungry before in your entire life. On top of that, you’d never wanted to please someone this much in your entire life. Maybe it was a good thing that Connor dropped you as your boyfriend and made you his faggot. You seemed to be far more productive that way.

Connor attacks his meal nearly as quickly as you do yours, his eyes glued to either the TV or his food the entire time. He lets out a humongous fart followed up by an even bigger burp as his last bite slides down his throat. You sniff at both as you try to finish up your last few bites, terrified that Connor may take it away if you’re not done within seconds of his own completion. As you take your final bite, you realize you’ll have to do all of this over again tomorrow. You pray you’ll get a decent piss to help the food down.

“Ayy, faggy. Good job. You ate all of your food! I am stuffed. That pasta was pretty good, maybe a seven out of ten. Two of those are pity points, though, since I’m sure you put so much of your faggotry into making it.”

Connor turns toward the TV just in time to see the game winning point. Yet again, he nearly kicks you with his sneakered feet as he stands to cheer for the Patriots. After lobbing off a few texts to the boys about the big win, he continues his monologue. “It’s almost time for the faggot ceremony. You’ve earned it. The house and yard look great, my meal was… good enough, and you’ve done a decent job supporting my various needs. I gotta take a shit, so get to cleaning. The kitchen won’t scrub itself,” he says, letting out another laugh. Connor rises from the couch, and you give his sneakered feet yet another kiss. You pray that this so-called “faggot ceremony” will include some foot worship, but you have no idea what to expect. Maybe if you scrub the kitchen at a rapid pace, it’ll earn you some time at his feet.

Look at you, faggot. You’re doing everything in your power to impress your ex-boyfriend, Connor. You’ll literally do anything it takes to sniff and lick those size nasty 13 sneakers, socks, and feet. Think about how pathetic you are! Doesn’t matter, though, you’re loving your new life. You can’t wait to make it official with the faggot ceremony tonight!

[sorchathered]

Sacred New Beginnings- Chapter 8

A/N- thank you guys so much for being patient with me, I know that cliffhanger shook everyone up but I promise your patience will be rewarded!

Pairing- Jake Seresin x Reader (OC Stormy)

Warnings- injuries, cursing, smut

Song inspo- “Like I’m gonna lose you” - Meghan Trainor

It had been nearly 6 weeks since your accident, ejecting over the ocean in an aircraft during a dogfight which resulted in your shoot not properly deploying, sending you spiraling towards the ocean at a speed that thankfully didn’t kill you or your pilot. The emergency team that life flighted you to Maryland had to sedate you heavily to manage your pain, so excruciating that it required what the doctor had called a medically induced coma. Broken collarbone, broken left wrist, fractured femur and a gnarly concussion that had you out for several days, waking up alive certainly not what you were expecting; the first thing that caught your eyes was the golden blonde hair and green eyes of the man you loved. Jake had been there through it all, every sleepless night, surgery, pt until you were finally released to go back to your home in Pensacola. You knew your godfather had facilitated some sort of miracle to allow Jake so much time away from his job and for that you couldn’t be more grateful, Uncle Beau couldn’t be your support team so he made sure you had everything you needed.

You were exhausted, the plane ride had been painful and as much as you’d tried to put on a brave face Jake could tell you were suffering, he got you inside and settled in bed and refused to let you do anything other than rest, you knew he had to be running on fumes but if he was he didn’t show it. You weren’t wrong, he was wrung out both emotionally and physically but if he stopped pushing forward he knew he’d break down, there had been nights when you were sedated that he worried you wouldn’t get through it and having to face life alone without you was too much for his heart to bear. Now that he had you home and safe he couldn’t imagine going back to North Island, let alone watching you get back into your jet, the thought sent a shudder through him; losing you was never something he’d imagined before all of this but now it consumed his every waking moment. It wasn’t healthy, and he was a bad liar so he knew you could tell he was fraying at the edges, your doctor had suggested that it would be beneficial for you both to do therapy together or separate and he was sure that was an option that needed to be explored. He started a load of laundry and as the clothes swirled in the washer he scrolled through his phone to find admiral Simpsons number, maybe requesting a transfer could give him the peace he needed to sleep at night.

A week goes by, pt is going well, your godfather has extended Jake’s leave once again but his request for transfer was denied (which you expected and told him at least 1,000 times you didn’t need him to move across the country to babysit you), but you could tell his nerves were shot. when you woke up most nights he wasn’t in the bed, usually in the living room reading or watching tv, sometimes on a run that would last for hours. Therapy hadn’t been easy the first session, you’d rehashed the drama of your crash and had ended it in tears, you’d been assured it would get easier but it felt like it never would, especially with the walls it felt like Jake was building around you. He treated you like glass and it was becoming more and more frustrating, he didn’t want to talk about what was going on in his head, he definitely wouldn’t sleep with you and all you’d gotten were a handful of kisses and hand holding since you’d come back to Florida. It felt like he was pushing you away and that was what you knew would push you over the edge, injuries you could heal from but losing him? That would destroy you.

Jake of course is clueless to your fears, he is just pushing through each day trying to make sure you are healthy and getting better, the thought hasn’t even occurred to him that he’s been distant, how could he be? He’s with you all the time! But when he gets back from his nearly 10 mile run the tension he hadn’t noticed is palpable, you’ve somehow showered and changed without him and when he catches your eyes from your spot on the couch he knows you are ready for a fight. He’s seen that look over a dozen times but never aimed at him, the storm is raging in your features, jaw clenched and eyes red rimmed with tears; you’ve been crying and somehow it’s his fault.

“Baby what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Why didn’t you wait for me? You shouldn’t be doing anything by yourself-“ he started but you waved your hand dismissively and continued to scowl and tear up, he didn’t know what was going on but whatever he’d done he would get on his knees and beg for forgiveness if he had to. “I’m not hurt, I managed to take my brace off to shower and put it back on by myself, that’s not the problem. The problem is us.” You said the last part in almost a whisper as you burst into tears, you’d never been much for crying when you were upset but everything had gotten so overwhelming and you couldn’t get your thoughts together, Jake surged forward to scoop you up and it didn’t matter that he was sweaty and gross you needed his touch more than you could say. You clawed at his skin and gasped out as you tried to stall your tears, pulling at his face to kiss you and he reciprocated but continued to hold you as gently as possible, afraid to jostle you too much and hurt your leg. Your eyes looked wild as he pulled you back a little to calm you down, but you kept clinging to him and trying to pull him closer, he didn’t want to stop but the fear of hurting you was prevalent so he pulled back completely and stood up, only to be met with another round of tears. “Hey hey, you gotta talk to me sugar I don’t understand what’s going on? You’re scaring me baby, just tell me what it is and I’ll fix it ok?” You looked at him and huffed like a petulant child and he almost laughed but knew it would only make it worse, something was eating you up and he didn’t have a clue where to start. “I don’t understand how you don’t get it, you’re doing it to me right now! You’re pushing me away, I’m not made of glass Jake! You’ve barely touched me since we got home, it’s like you don’t even want me anymore and I can’t stand it!” You wailed out and he had never felt more idiotic in his life. He had been so focused on your recovery that it had never even occurred to him that you would want him like that right now, but of course you did; you needed him physically just like he always had when things were hard and somehow he’d completely missed it. You were still sniffling as he ran his hand over his face and chuckled, which made you scrunch your face up angrily at him because how was this funny? He had been acting like an ass, of course he’d done everything to be your caretaker but damnit you wanted your boyfriend.

“Oh sweet thing I’m so sorry, I really have been stupid huh?” He said as he stepped back into your space and wiped your tears with his thumbs. “I didn’t realize, baby, can I fix it? Take you to bed and show you how sorry I am?” You nodded furiously and put your hands out for him to scoop you up, letting him carry you down the hall to the bedroom as you kissed his face and neck, running your hands through his sweaty hair and down his shoulders. He still treats you like your fragile, but it’s in the form of soft touches and gentle kisses placed all over your body as he removes your clothes, there’s a reverence in the way he loves you, you’d missed the intimacy of being with him so much it hurt, and now that he knew what you needed you knew he’d give you everything. He could tell you were irritated by the leg brace, couldn’t quite get close to him the way you wanted, you were terrible at hiding it with your furrowed brows and frustrated huffs as you tried to gain leverage and push up against him. He stilled you with a hand on your hips and kissed you sweetly on the forehead trying to smooth away the irritation. “You’re so stubborn, lay still and be a good girl ok baby girl I’m gonna get you there I promise, be sweet for me like I know you can.” You huffed out again but did what he asked, watching as he kissed down your torso and hitched your good leg over his shoulder, you were already so wet and gasping for him but he was going to draw this out as long as possible, you said you needed him to touch you so he would until you couldn’t take it anymore.

He was so damn lucky, and he knew it. He could’ve lost you, missed out on moments like this, watching you come undone for him as he tasted you over and over again until you were a crying mess, taking you to the precipice as you writhed and begged for him to let you cum, but he wouldn't let you just yet, white knuckling the sheets and sobbing his name, pussy leaking all over his hands and mouth as your beautiful eyes rolled back, it was heaven on earth being with you like this and he’d never take it for granted. You were positive that you’d come out of your own skin if he didn’t let you come soon, pulling at his hair and pleading him with wasn’t working, and soon you were too far gone to even do that, just letting little noises out as you rolled your head back and forth and gasped his name, and finally he pulled away from you, climbing back up your body to sloppily lick into your mouth, he was covered in you and it was sinful, you couldn’t stop bucking into him and squirming and he just chuckled as he groped your chest and kissed your neck. “Jake- I get it ok, I was being a brat just- just please please fuck me, need it oh fuck please please” you couldn’t stop babbling even as he began to glide his cock through your slick, and he slid into you with no resistance, your body so wound up that you couldn’t stop, immediately clamping down on him and succumbing to your orgasm. He growled into your neck at how good you were, continuing to fuck you through it as you gushed all over him and onto the sheets, he’d been so turned on by edging you that he was hopeless to hold back his own orgasm, thrusting into you hard a few times and spilling into you, both of you sweat slicked and sated, finally feeling like maybe you’d made it through the worst of this season of life.

You’d fallen asleep shortly after, going in and out as he cleaned you up and tucked you in, promises to come back after he started the laundry. You knew it hadn’t been long because the sun was still out but when you woke his side of the bed was still made and cold, so you hobbled down the hall until you could hear him talking to someone on the phone. “I know Mama, she’s gonna be alright but I don’t know how to leave her, I’m scared to death to let her out of my sight let alone in her jet again. Yeah, they’re sending me back next week, I’m gonna do everything I can to make things easier but- I don’t know mama I can ask if she wants the company, she’s got an extra room but I don’t want to overwhelm her, I just want to keep her safe.” You could hear the rawness in his voice, and your heart broke, you weren’t ready to be without him either but he had to go back, you’d already been given too many favors and the navy wasn’t likely to give anymore. “Jake” you called to him and he fumbled with the phone and swiped his eyes, looking up at you with the saddest smile you’d ever seen. “Tell your mama I’d love to have her here, you’re right I could use the company and we are definitely overdue for the girl time.” There it was, his thousand watt smile you fell in love with, he crossed the room to scoop you in his arms and you could see the relief on his face. You swiped the phone from his hand and laughed, “Hey Mama Leigh, how about we order you that plane ticket? We’ve got all sorts of catching up to do, and you can fill me in on all Jake’s most embarrassing stories.”

Leigh Seresin was the very picture of a southern grandma, styled blonde hair and perfect makeup, but none of the catty attitude, just warmth and kindness. When you and Jake picked her up from the airport she pulled you both up into a hug, fussing at you for not using your crutches and producing a big container of homemade chocolate chip cookies. She reminded you so much of your grandmother in so many ways, she wasn’t pushy but she wouldn’t let you lift a finger, making sure you were settled and then ushering Jake into the kitchen to help her make dinner as you dozed on the couch. She knew you were the one for her son, could see it on his face months ago when he’d admitted that you two were together, she wasn’t surprised one bit, she’d known for years that he had a thing for you and eventually you two would figure it out. Checking to make sure you were still asleep she dug through her never ending coach bag (Jake always called her Mary poppins because she seemed to have everything) and produced a small velvet box. “You said you wanted me to give this to you when you were ready, and I know right now may not be the right time but son one day it will be. She’s the right one sweetheart, I can feel it in my bones.” There inside the little green box was the thing he’d dreamed about putting on your finger from that very first weekend, Grandma Seresin’s vintage engagement ring. He knew he’d have to wait a little while, let you heal up all the way and see where your career took you but holding it in his hand and watching you sleep on the couch he couldn’t help but feel like everything was falling into place.

Jake Seresin masterlist

Tagging- @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @roosterforme @attapullman @bobgasm @djs8891 @mygyn @pinkdaisies9285 @mrsevans90 @seitmai @jessicab1991 @shanimallina87 @dizzybee03 @86laura11 @its-the-pilot @jostan456 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @kmc1989 @nouis-bum @dempy @floydsglasses

[m00nc4kes]

ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʟɪꜰᴇ.

ʜᴏʙɪᴇ ʙʀᴏᴡɴ x ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ: 1.9k

ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ: Gen

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Laundry day leads to an existential crisis.

ᴛᴀɢꜱ: no pronouns mentioned but reader is called mommy once (for context, Hobie/Reader have a kid :3); afab! reader hinted at but not explicit! (i mean... blink and you'll miss it lol); everyone is normal in this au

There wasn't anything special about today. It was like any other uneventful day you'd lived. Yet it was the first time that you’d questioned your life’s decisions.

And it had to be during laundry day.

The gentle drum of the dryers behind you and the whirring of fans filled the air. It had been a hot day, so there was a sheen to your brown skin. Several loads of clothes, blankets, and other important fabrics had been washed already; thanks to the teamwork of you and your spouse. Said spouse had draped himself over a nearby table, no doubt fighting through a heat-induced mental fog.

"Bee," you said, folding up another towel. He responded with a light hum which brought a small smile to your face. "How much time is left on that dryer?"

After a moment and a deep inhale, he raised his head and squinted his eyes to see the timer on the last dryer. "Five minutes."

You flicked your gaze over toward him. "Still?"

"Bloody thing must be broken." He wasted no time resting his head back on the table. "Said five minutes ten minutes ago," he mumbled. 

"At least we know our stuff's gonna be dry." That elicited another hum out of him and you snickered. 

The sun continued to beat against the old laundromat, making it damn near miserable to work in. Though, thanks to your glorious planning, you wouldn't have to stay here much longer. Sure, waking up at the crack of dawn felt damn near impossible especially with someone who hated getting up early. But hey, it worked out didn't it?

A sharp buzz cut through the air, making the two of you jump.

"Fuckin' finally," Hobie said under his breath as he grabbed hold of one of the laundry carts. 

You watched as he gathered the rest of your belongings— admiring his deep brown skin, the concentrated crease of his brow, and the way sweat slowly crept down his jawline. Your gaze found itself on the stubble on his chin, then down his arms and his fingers where a flash of silver could be seen on one of them. A wedding ring.

Your shameless ogling was put to an end when amber eyes locked with yours. You attempted to look away but you knew you'd been caught. Not that you cared either way, your man was fine as hell. The thought put a grin on your face.

You folded up your last towel and let out a satisfied sigh. You'd done it. You stared at your piles of towels, all of various sizes, until the smile slowly fell off your face. You looked around the laundromat, watching various customers fan themselves or separate their clothes into differently sized washers. Then a thought struck you:

Did you have any regrets?

You felt your brows furrow in confusion. Regrets? Was there anything to regret?

Your mind wandered to the different lives you could've lived. The different lives Hobie could've lived. What if he had never chosen you? There was so much personality contained inside of him— he was loud, he was passionate— 

Did you hold him back from his full potential? Did he hold you back from yours?

You couldn't help but think back to the ring on Hobie's finger. Marriage had been your idea, but he hadn't complained— never. 

A horrible feeling built in your chest, making you clench your hands into fists. In some other life, would doing laundry make you feel as accomplished as you did now? Were you meant for more?

The sound of a cart rolling towards you dragged you out of your mind. 

"Liven up, love, we got one more load," Hobie called from behind the cart. That's what he said, your mind replied. You snickered, making Hobie nudge your side. "Oi, get your mind outta the gutter."

You waved him off as you pulled the clothes out of the cart and onto the counter. Tiny shirts and pants sprawled across the countertop, successfully bringing a smile back to your face. You were reminded of a conversation from earlier.

"Ri said she was going to pick Malakai up, right?" You started in on folding the shirts as Hobie began on the pants. 

"Yeah, she wanted some quality Auntie time with him."

You laughed. "I figured."

Folding shirt after shirt put your mind back into its incessant line of questioning. 

Did you regret it?

What exactly, you didn’t know. Your marriage? Your child? The line of choices and half-assed decisions that landed you into this godforsaken laundromat? Was that it?

You set the small, folded Spider-man shirt down onto an ever-growing pile of clothes. You reached for another shirt but hesitated.

“Y’alright, lovey?” Hobie’s words suddenly snapped you back into reality. You averted your gaze, suddenly ashamed of your mind’s questioning. You didn’t want it to seem like you didn’t love your little family or your life, but— “(Y/N)?”

You finally brought yourself to look at him. He was concerned, maybe a bit confused, but mostly concerned. You gave him a weak smile. “I’m alright, Bee.”

He soured, unconvinced. Then shook his head. “Nah, don’t gimme that. What’s on your mind?”

Damn him and his observance. 

“Really, it’s nothing important. Just…” You looked down at the little shirts in front of you. “He’s getting so big, ain’t he?”

You felt Hobie rest his head on you. “He is.” His voice was laced with a twinge of sadness. You both knew your son couldn’t stay little forever, but it didn’t make it any easier. Hobie spoke again, this time on a firmer note, “But I’m bein’ serious, love. Is somethin’ the matter? Saw you sulkin’ before I came over.”

You blew air out your mouth. “Mm…” You debated on telling him, but you knew he would only grow more insistent. You two were trying to work on your communication after all. “Do you regret not taking that record deal? Y’know, choosin’ to stop performing ‘n all.”

The question made him grow quiet. It was a sore subject because you knew how much Hobie wanted to perform. He was made for the stage— and to have that all taken away from him by a single decision…

“No.” Came the sudden answer. It was firm and resolute.

You moved to look at him, baffled. “Really? Why not?”

He huffed as if the answer wasn’t obvious. “I wouldn’t have you or Malakai, now would I?” 

“Well— no, but you wouldn’t be stuck at some dumb job or in this hot ass laundromat. Wasn’t playing your dream?”

“What are ya gettin’ at?” He gave a confused laugh. “It was, but I made my decision and I’ve made peace wit’ it.”

You grabbed another shirt, attempting to digest his answer. “I… don’t really know what I’m getting at. It’s just— is this what our life is destined to be?” You made a frustrated noise and dragged a hand down your face. “I just don’t want to have any regrets.”

“Do you regret meetin’ me?”

You whipped your head in his direction. “No! Never!” 

“Do you regret having Malakai?”

Passionately, you said, “Not in a million years.”

A smile formed on Hobie’s face. “Then what do you regret?”

Nothing, your hypocrite of a mind answered. You released a heavy sigh. “I don’t… I don’t know.” 

Your husband made an understanding noise and pulled you into a side hug. “If it makes you feel any better, duck, I enjoy this life that I have with you. Even in this swelterin’ laundromat. I wouldn’t choose anythin’ different.”

You leaned into the hug, wrapping your arms around him to turn it into a full hug. “I… I think the heat is starting to get to me.” You nuzzled into him and felt him chuckle.

“Then let’s finish this up, yeah?”

You knew the conversation would be brought back up eventually, especially with such an abrupt ending. You hoped you’d be better prepared to explain your quarter-life crisis. 

With all the laundry neatly folded and delicately placed into the van, you could finally free yourself from the shackles of the early morning to afternoon chore. You put yourself in the passenger seat of your van as Hobie cranked up the AC. Before you knew it, you were on the road.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence while you tried to find a reason for your previous reminiscing. After a few minutes, you settled on the fact that the laundromat needed to fix their air conditioner and that you needed to stop frying your brain by thinking about the endless possibilities and life paths you two could’ve gone down.

It was strange to think about.

In some other life, Hobie could’ve been a rockstar. 

In some other life, you could’ve been whatever you wanted to be.

Yet, in this life—

“Hobie, do you think, in some other universe, Spider-man is real?”

“Oh boy, I see your existential crisis has grown legs.”

You gently nudged him with a laugh. “C’mon, answer!”

“Okay, okay. Maybe? Ion know— what kind of questionin’ is that?”

“I mean, what would you do if you were Spider-man?”

He made an incredulous noise. “Me? Spider-man? Come out of it, love.”

“You’re not indulging me!” You whined, putting a smile on Hobie’s face.

He rolled his eyes, feigning irritation. “My days— I’d be Spider-man, I guess? What do you want me to say?”

You hummed then frowned. “Your answer sucks.”

That drew a laugh from your husband that tickled you. You couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

Eventually, the laughter died down and Hobie found a parking spot along the curb. The two of you hopped out of the van, mentally preparing to haul all of your laundry upstairs.

Hobie, however, hadn’t seemed to drop your previous conversation. “Do you believe there’s a universe where you’re the villain and I’m the hero?”

You couldn’t help but pause what you were doing to glare at him with full offense. “First of all,” you balked, “there’s so many things wrong with that sentence! Why am I the villain, asshole?”

Hobie put his hands up in mock-defense. “I know my type, love.”

“Second—” you broke out in a laugh. “Pffft— your type?!” You couldn’t help but double over with laughter. God, you married such a goofball. 

“In your defense—”

“My defense?”

“— you’d probably be a misguided villain of some sort.”

You shook your head. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say. But you would never be a hero of any sort. More like a vigilante or something.”

“Ah, you know me so well.” He casually ‘congratulated’ you with a kiss to your forehead, then a nice kiss on your lips. When he pulled away, you gracefully pulled him in for another.

All previous worries hid themselves into the darkest parts of your mind, blinded by the love you two shared for each other. 

Maybe, in some other life, you weren’t fortunate enough to have him by your side.

Or maybe, you were a misguided villain and he was a “non-hero” vigilante.

But, in this life—

In the distance, you could hear a pair of tiny sneakers tapping against the sidewalk, heading in your direction. You and Hobie both perked up at the sound with matching grins.

From where you two stood, you could see your son’s locs bounce up and down as he excitedly headed your way with open arms. His all-too-big backpack nearly engulfed him, but it didn’t stop him from running top speed to reach his destination. With the biggest grin he could muster, he called out to you.

Your swore your heart grew along with your smile.

In this life, you had survived laundry day.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

So, how could you ever have any regrets?

header by me :0, divider by cafekitsune :3

hey hey heyyyy long time no see- lemme just say I wrote this while I was at the laundromat HAHA with the combination of the everything everywhere all at once soundtrack, i had an existential crisis lol

see you soon babes!!

[nycbabyjoey]

Escape From Silly Times Daycare - PROLOGUE

NSFW 18+ Only

Sunlight peeked in through the cracks in the blinds as the alarm on Michael's iPhone started to chirp. Michael struggled to crack open his eyes as he threw his large, weighted comforter from off of his body. He slumped his hand over and hit the phone to stop the incessant noise. His phone showed the same time it always did: 6:30 a.m. This was the start to Michael's day... every day.

Michael turned his eyes over to the other end of the bed to his wife, Phoebe, who was thankfully still sound asleep. Phoebe didn't work and Michael's habit of making noise early in the morning (i.e. getting ready for work) made it so he had to endure an earful from his cranky wife in addition to his early routine. So, as he slipped out from under the sheets, he made sure to do so without making a peep.

He quietly made his way over to his walk-in closet and slowly slid the door open. Rows of repeating articles of clothing were on either side - one shelf of khakis, one closet rod of grey suits. The only articles which offered a more colorful variety were Michael's button down shirts, which alternated between white or blue, and an assortment of ties to match with his outfit. The most standout tie was one covered in a pattern of dollar bills, which Phoebe had gifted him ironically enough with his own money to celebrate his first day at his new job three years ago. It was a novelty tie; obviously, he couldn't wear it to work but that didn't stop Phoebe from ranting at him that he didn't appreciate her gifts.

First, Michael stripped out of his sleeping outfit, including his dirty boxers, partially stained with the remnants of an especially exciting dream he had had last night. He chucked them into an ever-growing pile of his dirty underwear that was mounting in the laundry basket. These dreams were hazardous to the load of laundry, but they were pretty consistent since Phoebe had expressed her disinterest in having sex regularly.

Michael groggily changed into his typical outfit - white button down shirt with the top collar buttoned with a grey suit and a striped tie. After changing, he slid the closet door behind him, wincing in fear as Phoebe stirred at the sound of the door squeaking. With the door completely shut, he sighed a quiet sigh of relief, happy that he hadn't woken his wife up at the last possible moment.

Safely in the kitchen, Michael's breathing returned to an audible norm now that he was blissfully alone for the only time of his entire day. For thirty minutes, he was able to sip his coffee, eat his toast, and work on a few clues from Sunday's crossword without anyone interjecting and telling him what to do. Once the thirty minutes were up, he had to begin his drive to the office, which added to his alone time but was not nearly as relaxing as his morning coffee due to the overwhelming amount of traffic. It was a long commute into the city, which is why his alarm was set so early in the morning. He dreaded it; nonetheless, he grabbed his keys and braced for the flood of cars.

As the chorus of horns on the interstate surrounded him, Michael gripped his steering wheel and took a long, deep breath. Car horns were always the background noise to his yacht rock radio station, but Michael hadn't been able to come to terms with their daily occurrence; in fact, they only became more irritating with every commute. Michael turned up the current song, trying to drown out the roar of never-moving traffic.

"Arthur, he does as he pleases All of his life, his master's toys Deep in his heart, he's just, he's just a boy Living his life one day at a time And showing himself a pretty good time Laughing about the way they want him to be"

The verse echoed in Michael's head until he was jolted back to reality by a shout, "Mike!"

Michael was sat at his cubicle in the office with his computer monitor turned on and his email opened to several unread messages. He must've gotten lost in his routine, mindlessly parking his car, making his way up the elevator, and setting up his work area as if he were on autopilot. As if he were a zombie.

The shout came from his coworker Jim, who was sat partially on the edge of Michael's desk but with both feet on the ground. He held up a folder of forms. Michael hated Jim for always showing him up at work and brownnosing the boss. Jim had the charisma that Michael lacked but made up for in actual work.

"Morning Jim," Michael managed. "How's your day so far?"

"Not bad, not bad," Jim responded. "Just had a meeting with Mr. Boss Man. Seems like they're going to announce who's getting the big assistant manager promotion later today."

Michael had his eyes set on that promotion since the former assistant manager left the position. He was a shoo-in, after all. He had the most sales of any of the agents, was always on time, and even stayed late most days. He didn't want to seem too excited in front of Jim since that was the sort of thing that would earn him some ribbing from his coworker, so he played it cool.

"Oh yeah?" Michael inquired, continuing the conversation. "You have any idea of who's going to get it?"

Jim looked around the office, raising his eyebrows as a sly grin grew on his face. "Well... it's me!" he announced. "That's why I just had that meeting. Oh gosh, I'm supposed to keep quiet about it, but I just can't keep my big mouth shut!"

Michael's heart sank. Of course Jim had schmoozed his way into the big promotion. Why would Michael even bother getting his hopes up? Jim must've noticed Michael's reaction because he immediately took the opportunity to dig the knife in deeper.

"Hey, keep your head up," he feignedly encouraged. "There'll be other promotions. Now that I'm your supervisor, I can always put in a good word." Michael had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes and groaning. "Speaking of being your supervisor," Jim continued. "I have some sheets I need filled out before EOD that I won't be able to get to because I have a lunch thing with a client. If I send you a link with those sheets, would you be able to handle those for me?"

"Actually, I..." Michael began to protest.

"Perfect!" Jim celebrated. "That'll be such a big help! You are such a team player!" He then opened his manila folder and placed one of the forms in front of Michael. "Also, before I go, could you sign and date at the bottom there?"

Michael began to look over the form. "It's just performance review stuff," Jim clarified. "All very standard."

That was enough for Michael to sign - if it would get Jim to leave him alone faster.

Jim took the form back and thanked Michael before leaving him to get to those Google sheets that needed to be completed. Michael opened Jim's link to a folder with a dozen sheets, each with hundreds of rows that needed to be math-checked and approved. He groaned, mentally rescheduling all the tasks he had planned to work on today. These sheets would take him all day.

And so they did. As Michael diligently did the math for each row and verified the result, he felt his mind wander to the reoccurring dream he had been having. The dreams never involved his wife, which Michael would sometimes feel guilty about. Last night, the subject of Michael's fantasies was Zendaya. She had busted down the door in a pair of sexy lingerie and crawled towards the foot of the bed, ravenous for his cock. She jumped on top of him before whispering sensually, "I want to feel it throbbing inside me."

Michael came back to reality, realizing that he'd have to redo the math of the last few rows as he hadn't even been consciously paying attention to the results. He looked around anxiously, worried that someone may have noticed the slight bulge in his dress pants. It was hard for Michael to focus on the task at hand, not only because of his sexual frustration, but also because it was so goddamn boring! And as Michael would get distracted, it would only take longer and longer.

A coworker stopped by at five o'clock to tell Michael about the happy hour happening in the lounge area to celebrate Jim's promotion, but Michael still had two sheets left to do. Regardless, he would rather jump out his office's sixth floor window than "cheers" to the tool who assigned him the extra busywork anyway.

At 8:00 p.m., Michael finally finished the last row and forwarded them back to Jim before shutting down his computer.

The drive back home wasn't as painful as the one that morning, mostly because the interstate was clear of rush hour traffic at this late hour. Still, the impatience to get home after a long day frustrated Michael. It was 9:06 when Michael made it inside his front door, which gave him an hour and twenty-four minutes to eat dinner, shower, and brush his teeth before going to bed.

Phoebe was in the kitchen as Michael walked in to reheat some leftovers. She wore a black see-through lace robe, which caused the immediate return of Michael's bulge. She had rollers all through her dark hair and she snacked on some potato chips with one hand as she swiped on her iPad with the other. She didn't bother saying "hello" to Michael before rushing towards him with the iPad.

"Babe!" she exclaimed in her dash, "Look at this bag! Don't you think it would look so great with my new heels?"

Michael glanced at the Prada website only briefly, not really looking but just out of a sense of obligation. "Yeah, definitely," he half-heartedly agreed before making his way to the fridge.

"I'm so glad you think so, baby!" Phoebe cheered. "Because I ordered it earlier!"

"Didn't you get a Prada bag like three weeks ago?" Michael asked as he pulled a cold dish of ziti out of the fridge.

"I know!" Phoebe said. "Now, I'll have options!"

Michael popped the ziti in the microwave before turning back to Phoebe. "Ok, honey, just..." he stammered. "We may need to be a bit careful with spending going forward. I... I didn't get the promotion."

"Oh, honey," Phoebe said with melancholy. "I heard. I'm so sorry."

"You did?" Michael questioned.

"Um... yeah," Phoebe responded. "Your... your boss called."

Michael sighed as the microwave beeped. He dejectedly opened the microwave door and grabbed the now hot bowl of ziti, throwing it on the kitchen counter as his fingers quickly felt the burn.

"Come tomorrow, that silly promotion isn't even going to matter," Phoebe declared as she grabbed her bag of potato chips and started to head upstairs. She paused though and turned back towards Michael, "Oh, before you take a shower, can you take the trash out? It's full. Thanks, baby!" She made some kissy noises and made her way upstairs.

Once Michael finished his dinner and took the trash out to the end of the driveway, he took a shower before joining Phoebe in the bed where she was reading Gone Girl next to the reading lamp stationed on her bedside table. Michael, horny from earlier, started to cuddle up to his wife and kiss her on the cheek. Despite his obvious hints, Phoebe would just smile and giggle shortly with her eyes glued to her novel. Michael figured his best chance would be to just ask, preparing himself for the usual rejection.

"Oh, baby," Phoebe pitied. "I'm in the middle of my book."

"It'll be quick," Michael bargained, knowing that was typically a bad thing.

"Fine," Phoebe agreed, much to Michael's surprise. She lifted her robe to unveil her pussy, dry as a desert. Michael, on the other hand, was ready to go and his precum acted as an instantaneous lube. He climbed on top of his wife and inserted himself; his tiny penis didn't cause any discomfort for his wife as he did so. As he thrust, Phoebe held her book behind his head, continuing to read as Michael did his best to pleasure her. She read about a paragraph before the sex ended with Michael whimpering and keeling over to his side of the bed. Michael gasped for air in pure ecstasy while Phoebe turned to the next page in her book. "That was nice, dear," Phoebe said simply, obviously not believing her own words.

It was 10:39 at that point and Michael closed his eyes as Phoebe continued her book. As Michael started to fall asleep, he thought ahead to the day that awaited him. It would be another average day where he would be used and emotionally neglected by his wife Phoebe, teased and condescended to by his coworker Jim, and rendered involuntarily celibate much to his sexual frustration; all the while feeling trapped in this never ending, soul-crushing cycle that made him feel worthless.

Michael was right about the details of tomorrow, but his overall conclusion was not correct - tomorrow would be anything other than an average day.

Waking up to his alarm at 6:30 a.m. was much the same as was his regimen of throwing his messy boxers in the laundry, getting dressed in a replica of yesterday's suit, and making his way downstairs to the coffee machine without waking Phoebe up.

However, as he sipped his coffee and worked on his crossword, he noticed Phoebe coming down the stairs in the same lace robe from last night. He set his coffee down and immediately began pleading, "I'm sorry, babe. I didn't mean to wake you up! I'll try and be quieter next time!"

"You didn't wake me up," Phoebe said morosely. "I came to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" Michael questioned. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Michael turned to it as if something alien was on the other side; no one ever knocked this early in the morning. He looked to Phoebe for some type of validation, but she stared at the floor. After a moment, he walked over to the front door and opened it. Two large uniformed men pushed past Michael and entered the house.

"Hey!" Michael called after them, following closely behind. "Hey! You can't just barge in here! What's the big idea?!"

He made his way back to the kitchen where the two men were stood next to Phoebe. "I assume this is him?" one of the guys said, pointing at Michael. Phoebe silently nodded and the man turned to address Michael for the first time.

"You've been enrolled in a special program for reeducation," the man explained coldly. "Your program begins immediately and we are here to escort you away as soon as possible. You are required to leave all personal belongings behind or they will be confiscated from you at your arrival. If you resist, we are authorized to detain you through force. If you don't have any questions at this time, then we ask you to turn around and leave with us peacefully."

Michael's mouth hung agape. For seconds - what felt like minutes in his head - he was speechless. "Any questions?!" he finally responded. "Any questions? Yeah, I have a few questions. Phoebe, what are they talking about?"

Phoebe looked up at Michael with some shame. Her voice cracked a little as she spoke, "I love you, Michael. I really, really do, but... you're not the kind of husband I need. I need someone who can provide for me. Someone who bets on himself and wins every time. I need a real, supportive man."

"I provide for you!" Michael shouted back.

"You can't provide everything I need!" Phoebe claimed.

Michael scoffed. "All of this is because I didn't get the promotion, isn't it?"

"It's not just that!" Phoebe answered. "Our sex is terrible. I barely feel your prick inside me and it only takes ten seconds of me lying there like a starfish for you to..."

"Ok! Ok! I get it!" Michael interrupted, suddenly embarrassed that this intimate conversation was taking place in front of two strange men. "So what? You think you can just send me away to this 'reeducation' program and they're gonna teach me how to be a big, strong man for you?"

"No, that's not what they're going to teach you," Phoebe clarified. Michael was puzzled. It felt like every minute detail Phoebe dropped into the conversation changed Michael's understanding of the problem entirely. Why was Phoebe complaining about his inability to provide and please her if she wasn't going to send him away to a program that fixed those issues? She continued, "When you come back, things will be completely different. But, we can be together forever. And happy! It's for the best."

"You can't make me go," Michael said, standing his ground. "You can't take me against my will. That's illegal!"

"We have all the proper paperwork," one of the men said, pulling a piece of paper out of his uniform's inside pocket. Michael's eyes widened as the man unfolded the form to display to him. Michael's signature and yesterday's date were at the bottom, clear as day. It was his performance review forms - except it wasn't. He had agreed to something else entirely without his knowledge.

Michael turned to Phoebe with a look of absolute betrayal in his eyes. Phoebe looked away again, unable to make eye contact with him. "Jim?" was all Michael could utter in absolute disbelief at Phoebe's disloyalty.

"Alright, time to go," the other man said, grabbing Michael by the wrist. The other man held Michael by his other wrist and Michael complied as they lead him towards the front door.

An unfamiliar van was parked outside Michael's house. Michael was lead to the back of the van and instructed to climb inside. The van doors were shut, sealing Michael away from his mundane, everyday life.

Michael took one last look through the van windows as the van pulled away from his home, unaware of the experience that was waiting from him at his ultimate destination.

If you missed my last post, then you may not know that all future chapters of this story will be posted on a monthly basis to my Patreon exclusively for patrons at the $7 tier. If you want to know where Michael is being sent away to (you can probably guess; it's in the title), then join the club over on Patreon! Thanks guys!

[dreadsuitsamus]

Can i request sfw prompt 1 with vegeta. But instead of it being vegeta's shirt can it be s/o's baggy hoodie that vegeta borrows?

#1- "Is that my shirt?" "You mean our shirt?"

author's note: i love vegeta in casual clothes. i want nothing more than to see him in a henley shirt 🤤

pairing: vegeta x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, vegeta being a lil shit

Getting Vegeta out of his armor and into casual clothes was a gradual thing. Despite it being the uniform of his past as a slave and the reminder of his genocidal deeds, it was comforting for him as the only constant he'd ever had his entire life. At any moment he'd be ready to fight, and that damn standard issue Frieza Force fit could handle it, with its ability to stretch at any size and to a certain extent, it could tank most hits without damage.

But sometimes it's laundry day, and it's not like he's got many pairs of armor tucked away. And as proud as he is of his body, he's humble enough to not walk around Bulma's place in the nude.

He's not above stealing, however.

You hum softly as you pull your laundry out of the dryer, rubbing your fingers and thumb together through Vegeta's skin-tight Saiyan suit. It's been hanging to dry since your clothes finished washing, and you've begun a routine of washing Vegeta's clothes with yours. It isn't like he's got much to make a full load anyway, and you can't recall ever seeing your sister do her own laundry.

With another hum, you drape his armor over your basket of clothes and begin the trek upstairs. Your room is right across the hall from the Saiyan's, so you simply hang the suit on the door and knock before stepping into your bedroom. With a sigh and a heave of the basket, you look at the arduous task for several minutes before starting.

Folding. Fuck folding.

"Bulma! Vegeta!" You shout through cupped hands. "Dinner's ready!" Bulma's door opens quickly with your older, adoptive sister practically jumping down the stairway.

"Thank god, I'm starving. Smells like steak?"

"Surf 'n turf." You nod, glancing back in the direction of the stairs. "He better hurry, 'cuz he's gonna be mad if he misses this, with all the meat I made."

"His loss!" Bulma shrugs, piling the delicious meal you've prepped onto her plate, her hip propped to the countertop as she starts eating. Despite Bulma's uncaring attitude, after your plate is fixed up you set aside the rest for Vegeta. It's a hefty portion, and after living with him for a year, you've figured out the sweet spot for the prince's hunger; any less than the three steaks, two bags worth of shrimp, plus the rest of the fixins and Vegeta would have a pouty, princely tantrum.

"You baby him, y'know." Bulma says before biting into her steak.

Your eyes cut at her sharply, annoyed as you sip on your tea. "You built him a special training room."

"You cook for him!"

"I cook for you!"

"You do his laundry!"

"You bought him the clothes I wash!"

"He's wearing your hoodie!"

"You- He what."

Bulma smirks, lazily flicking her fork in the incoming prince's direction. Sure enough, he's wearing your favorite hoodie as he strides to the kitchen. It's an old one from your teenage years with a worn Nirvana logo on it. The thing has always been like a safety net; its large size has allowed you to sort of "hide" whenever your nerves have gotten to you.

But on Vegeta, it's perfect. He fills it out how it's meant to, the black fabric making him look so snugly. It's odd, seeing him so… Soft? His rippling muscles are entirely covered, and his sharply narrowed eyes lose their bite. You point to the leftover platter, pleased with his nod of thanks. Bulma hides a giggle behind her palm, eyes openly ogling Vegeta's ass in those jeans while he walks the platter to the table.

"Stop that!" You whisper, throwing the salt shaker at her. It doesn't dissuade your sister, however, and she merely throws the shaker right back. You catch it, sticking your tongue out and looking to Vegeta as he tears into his mini feast.

"Is that my hoodie?"

"I dunno." Vegeta shrugs. You blink slowly, glancing at your sister and then back to the Saiyan prince.

"Where did you even get it from?" You swear it was-

"In your closet."

b r u h

"Then… It would be mine."

"Hm." Vegeta finishes his food, politely moving the dishes into the sink and washing his hands. "I'll be training."

His knuckles ghost over your knee as he leaves, a thrill of warmth sent up all the way to your neck. Bulma, at the very least, has the courtesy to wait for Vegeta's footsteps to recede upstairs before laughing loudly at you.

"You so have a thing for him!"

"Shut UP, Bulma!" Jaw tightened and brows furrowed, a dish towel's suddenly in her face while you stomp upstairs. Embarrassment ebbs at your skin, cheeks hot and flustered goosebumps littering your arms and legs. Of course you're interested in Vegeta; a strong, handsome man in your home?? That you take care of?? You'd have to be blind, deaf, and dumb to not take interest.

You're suddenly met with a brick wall, though when you see that bright blue another wave of embarrassment showers over you. Naturally you'd run directly into your crush at a time like this.

How is he so SOLID-

"Here." Vegeta murmurs, looking into your eyes so directly he can probably see your brain short out and stop working. If he did, though, he doesn't indicate it and gently drapes the folded hoodie over your shoulder, his knuckles brushing your skin again.

Without another word, Vegeta departs for his training session. You gnaw on your lip and carefully hold the sweatshirt, the scent of his body wash lingering on it. You hold it to your nose and quickly scurry into your bedroom before Bulma catches you.

"WHY IS IT SO FUCKING COLD?!"

You flinch, side-eyeing your shivering sister with a look that could kill and pass her a cup of hot cocoa. "Because it's the dead of winter, eleven at night, and you broke the goddamn heater. I can't believe you don't know anything HVAC related, and more than that, I can't believe you fucked with it not knowing what to do!"

"Oh, you can bet your ass I'm gonna be an expert by the end of the week! And excuse me for trying to make it work in my bedroom!"

All you can muster is an eye roll, tuning out Bulma's incessant blabbering and shiver as you prepare your own cocoa. Your sleeves are long, but the thin fabric wasn't doing you any favors. Bulma, all bundled up and even sporting an orange beanie with a blue pom on top, tugs at your thin top. "You're gonna freeze, girl."

"I can't find my hoodie." Your fingers twirl a spoon between them as the marshmallows melt in the cocoa.

"You have more." Bulma narrows her blue eyes suspiciously.

"That one's my favorite. It's big and warm and soft." Your lips curl into a pout.

"Mhm, sure. Or is it that it's been occupied by a sexy-"

"Who the hell turned the air on?" Vegeta asks as he strides into the kitchen, in dark sweatpants and wearing your hoodie once again. Sometimes it feels like this is the only room you see him in.

"Bulma broke the furnace." You cut your eyes to her again, sticking your tongue out when she flips up her middle finger at you.

"Of course." Vegeta rolls his eyes, accepting the cup of cocoa you quickly make up for him. His fingers graze yours, but he's frowning and seems not to notice the action. "You have goosebumps."

"Ah, it's cold?"

"Where's your jacket?"

"Where's my jacket?"

"You deaf?"

"I- No."

"Hm. Here." Vegeta pulls off your hoodie, and the chill in the house dispels in an instant.

Your sister's eyes damn near bulge out of her head at Vegeta's naked torso. While her face slowly turns red, Vegeta opens up the hoodie and pulls it over your head and tugs it down, quieting your worries down before you can voice them. "Saiyans are more hot-blooded than humans; I'll be fine."

Your mouth is bone-dry and you probably haven't blinked since the second that hem started going up. "Uh… I, ah… T-Thanks."

Vegeta takes a step back, picking up his mug and looking directly into your eyes while he takes a sip. "Mhm."

What the fuck. Why is he so hot.

Bulma's baby blues flick between you and Vegeta, her mouth parted enough to catch flies. "What the hell is going on here."

"Stay warm tonight." Vegeta keeps his eyes trained on you, shifting away before pausing his movements. "Make those hashbrowns with the eggs and bacon in the morning."

"Yes sir." You nod dumbly, eyes burning from the lack of blinking. What the hell was that about??

"G'night, ladies." Vegeta murmurs before strutting back out, a satisfied smirk on his lips when he feels two pairs of eyes on his toned back.

"If you don't get a piece of that when he's literally putting himself on a platter…" Bulma warns lowly, already thinking of potential baby names. "I fucking will."

You scoff and dump what remains in your mug, "Shut up. He's just after food."

"You are so dumb." Bulma pulls off her beanie and fans herself. "He's been giving you fuck-me eyes for months and I am siiiiiiiick of it."

"I-" You cheeks heat up and you pull your hood up, hiding your face in it.

"Uh-uh! Own it! Hot space alien has the hots for you!"

"You don't know that!"

"Yes I do. He wants you to stay warm in his-"

"Bulma Briefs!"

Your sister leaves the room after a quick kiss to your temple, cackling all the way upstairs while you childishly rub the smooch away. Your thoughts wander while you do an inventory of the fridge, wondering if Bulma's words really do hold any weight to them. Yes, Vegeta has been… Bold. His smoldering gaze sets you ablaze every time he looks your way, and more and more you're noticing him looking at you, touching you…

Wearing your hoodie whenever he feels like it.

Perhaps she's onto something, but that'll be dealt with later, as it's midnight and he's already said his goodnights. But as you set your hand on the doorknob to your room, Vegeta's door opens up. Cursing softly, you turn your head to give him one more goodnight.

There's a pause, your eyes locked and the tension becoming more charged with each passing second. He's thrown on a dark Henley since going back to his bedroom, and it is entirely unfair for half-covered forearms to look so damn good. "Um… You're up late." You grimace at yourself for the lame conversation starter, though Vegeta seems not to care.

"Training room is broken."

"Bulma's gonna tear you a new one."

"And all I have to do is take off my shirt and she'll shut up."

Devious bastard.

"Good… Good point." You bite into your lip and curl your hand around the fabric of your sleeve, pulling it to your lip while cutting eye contact with the handsome prince.

"Do I make you nervous?"

"... A little bit."

Those bulky arms cross over his muscled chest and he smirks at you like he's gotten prey in his cross hairs. "I suppose it makes sense." He leans in closely to you, your chin soon between his fingers so he can make you look at him. A soft, sharp inhale sucks in between your lips, Vegeta's smirk widening. "A bad man living right across the hall… That'd make anyone nervous. But that's not why you're nervous."

"Vegeta…"

His arms box you in, hands firmly planted on the painted wall and leaving you with no escape. "Ever had a man this close?"

"... No." The air is heavy around you, so thick you could cut through it with an eyelash curler. Vegeta's dark eyes flick down and then back at your eyes, and you could swear he looked at your lips. He inches even closer, his lips a whisper on your cheek before they meet your ear, his voice causing an involuntary shudder throughout your entire body; even your goosebumps get goosebumps.

"How long are you going to ignore me?"

"Vegeta?"

"Way I see it, you've got two choices. You can acknowledge me, let me down easy if you gotta, or…" He thumbs the hem of your sweatshirt. "You give this back."

"It's my hoodie!" You squeak. He's so close that when you turn your head, your nose bumps his. He's right there!

"You mean our hoodie?"

"I- You- We- Huh??"

"We're sharing it. End of."

"Well, what're you sharing with me?" Your lips curl into an adorable pout and you cross your arms with an annoyed eyebrow raised. Who the hell was he to make demands from you?? He was in your house you shared with Bulma, eating your food and living off of you and your sister entirely for free! Not to mention he'd tried to kill all of your friends!!!

"The hoodie."

"Of yours." You started rolling your eyes entirely too often when Bulma allowed him to stay here.

Vegeta smirks. "I have one thing in mind."

His lips are on yours, and in the morning when you're cooking his breakfast, he struts into the kitchen with a satisfied smirk and your old hoodie on once again. Bulma eyes you incredulously as she walks in, noticing how his hand rubs up the curve of your spine before running back down and gripping your rear.

"I told you so!"

[faghubby]

Giving in to my desire

Me and my best friend Pete where sitting close to each other we had done this since we where in middle school. Now home for the first time since college we again found ourselves in my basement watching old points as we jerked each other off. Pete stopped moving his hand at one point and I didn't care. I swirled my hand and teased his balls. He shot his load all over his stomach. The difference this time was I leaned in and licked his stomach.

"What the fuck?" Even said surprised. I just licked up all his cum even off the tip of his dick.

"I am not doing that" Even told me, he no longer even jerked me off.

"I know, I just wondered what you tasted like" I told him

"Have you done that before?" He asked.

"Just my own" I admitted feeling ashamed for it. I looked at him for a second then licked his soft cock again taking it in my mouth.

"Paul, I'm not gay" he moaned his hand grabbing my hair but not pulling me away. he grew hard again in my mouth.

"That feels fucking amazing" he moaned. We where both virgins. I didn't want to stop even after my jaw started to hurt. I tried different things trying to take more of his cock like in all the old porno we had watched. Gagging over and over again. Suddenly Evan pulled my hair lifting me off his cock.

"Listen you want to be a fucking fag and suck my dick fine but you better stop trying to hump my leg" he told me. I had not even realized I had done that. I repositioned getting on my knees and took him back in my mouth. He seemed to just lean back and relax as I sucked him again. After another 15 minutes or so he grabbed my head with both hands as he pumped his load into my mouth. He was grunting loud I was afraid my mom would hear him. I couldn't swallow fast enough he let me go and shot the rest all over my face. I just smiled up at him. He quickly pulled his pants back up. And made an excuse to leave. I was afraid he might say something but then again he had never mentioned our little masterbating times together.

I went into the laundry room. Right there in the basement and cleaned up in the sink. I saw my mom had a pair of her panties soaking. From a stain or something. I'm not gay I thought. But I wanted to suck Pete again. Still horny as he'll not having cum after being so close. Maybe I was a woman? Thennit wouldn't be gay. Mom had several other pairs of panties and bras hanging up. Most where plain simple cotton in pastel colors. But one pair was white lace. They looked so femine. I tool them and stripped sliding them on. Then getting dressed again. They where very tight. My erection sticking out of the waist band.i suddenly had a thought, would Evam fuck me? What did it feel like? I

ed the feel of my mom's panties, the softness, the tightness. I tried to go about the rest of my day wearing them. I loved being so excited I wanted to jerk off. But also didn't want to wanted this felling to continue. Over the next two weeks I sucked Pete off everyday. I also wore my mother's panties, all the time. I had found she had a whole drawer full of "sexy things" she must wear for my father. It made me think if my mom sucked my Dad's cock? What positions they fucked in? Had mom ever experienced anal? I also found a wand vibrator in her drawer but was to freaked out to even touch it. Soon it was time to head back to school. I packed. I took two pairs of mom's panties the white pair I had worn that first time and a pink thong. That was way to small but made me feel so hot. Mom and Dad drove me back to school three hours away. Mom went as far as to "properly clean my dorm room" I just let her do it knowing it was her way. She worried I might get sick or something. She even cleaned my roommates side of the room. I didn't think about it till she went to put my clothes away. She must of seen the flash of pink. I saw as she cupped the tiny panties up in her hand before my Dad saw. Then sent my father on some errand.

"Paul?" She said. Showing me what was in her hand. I blushed a deep red.

"Well I guess they go in your underwear drawer" she smiled. "It's okay" my mother assured me. She finished up the room and insisted on taking me to dinner. Nothing fancy a buffet style place. My mother came right uo behind me as I scooped up a big scoop of Mac and cheese.

"Should watch your figure" my mother said with a smile. Switching her plate with mine. Her plate had a big salad on it. I blushed again and went and sat. My father looked at me odd as I ate my plate as he stuffed steak and potatoes in his mouth. After dinner my parents headed home. Now mom checked in usually every week. So when she called the next day I was surprised.

"Paul, would you like to talk?" She asked me.

"Sure mom, what's on your mind?" I replied

"Little pink panties" she said you could almost hear the smile thru the phone.

"Well, I um" I started

"Do you wear them often? Do you have a favorite color? Style? Would you like some more?" She rapid fired.

"Yes!" I said excited.

"Yes to what?" My mother asked.

"I only tried on a few pairs" I stated.

"Just mine?" She asked.

"Yes, I am sorry" I started

"It's okay, all GIRLS come to an age where they try new things, sexy things" my mother stated. Had she just called me a girl?

"Have you tried it her things?" She asked I was scared to mention Evan. When she added. "Make up? Or even a dress?" She asked. I was excited as I talked to my mom. I explained it was all recent only the past two weeks. I am not sure she believed me. And in truth when I was younger, first time I "helped" Evan I had tried on a dress and shoes. But no more. We had a the longest talk I could ever remember having with her. Afterwards I went and changed into panties. Walking around campus. And attending classes all while wearing panties was exciting. A secret no one knew about.i was careful to change before I went to bed so no chance my roommate would see. The next morning just before lunch my mother called me again.

"I am headed to your dorm" she said excitedly

"You're here?" I asked

"Yes now come let me in" my mother sang. I went down to let her in she had two huge bags with her. I grabbed them as we headed to my room.

"Where's Kevin?" She asked. As we entered the room. Speaking about my roommate.

"He has a class" I responded

"Good, I got you somethings" my mom stated excitedly as she started to pull things from the bag. "Just a few things, but thought I could take you shopping if you like?" she said as if afraid of what I might say.

She pulled out a makeup mirror and then lipstick.

"Not sure how much you want to wear, I mean like a Tom boy, or girlie girl" she giggled. I watched as she pulled out a ton of things I did not even know what they where neverless how to use them.

"Don't worry, I will teach you and if you don't want to that's okay as well. I just. Well I always wanted a daughter." Then as if a light went on.

"OH I never thought, I mean does anyone know? Do you want them too?" She asked as she looked at Kevin's bed.

"Only Evan" I told her. Not wanting to just came out.

"I see" she smiled. I blushed as she had guessed.

"Mom, this is great and all but I don't know" I started she smiled.

"Of course, I am sorry I got so swept up in it all" she told me. We hugged and I hid the makeup along with hair removal cream and pink razors. Blow dryer, curling iron all In my trunk. Mom took me to lunch.

"So Evan?" She smiled as we got our food.

"It's not like that" I told her again blushing. After lunch we wondered around before she had to head back home.

"Okay, now you can use this to buy online if you don't want to go to the store" my mother said handing me a Victoria Secret gift card. She then did something that shocked me. She pulled at the front of my pants. And smiled when she saw the flash of white lace from my panties.

"Mom!" I said totally embarrassed. She just smiled. Then pulled out lipstick from her purse and applied it to my lips right there on the street. I almost came in my pants as I tasted the light pink lipstick.

I was so mortified but also more excited then I had ever been in my life. My mother sensed this and led me straight into a woman's clothing store she looked at me for a second and picked out a simple yellow dress. She led me to the changing room. The clerk a woman of about 50 gave a smile as my mother asked if I could try it on. I didn't argue just went into the changing room and put it on. My mother didn't make me come out to show her. Instead opening the door to peek in to make sure it fit.

"Want ro wear it out of the store?" My mother asked. I just nodded no. She left me to get changed. I was so embarrassed and so happy at the same time. As we headed back to my dorm room.

"Mom, have you ever? I mean. Well anal does it really hurt?" I asked. I felt like I could ask her anything.

"Yes, it does the first time. I think it's more your partner" my mother explained. We talked about sex, something my father and I never has. As she dropped me off

"Paul, in those bags there is one more thing that might help you with your backdoor question" my mother said now she was the one embarrassed. I kissed my mother goodbye.

To be continued.....