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geminiamethyst · 7 months

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Skyline Gang. Chapter 10.

Prologue: click HERE

chapter 9: click HERE

Chapter 11: click HERE

Mimi honestly don’t know what woke her up so early. When she checked that the time was 5am, she tried to go back to sleep. However, this chill in her room wouldn’t let her. So she decided to try to be a little productive. Her adventuring yesterday turned out pretty well. She was able to finally find a laundrette in a different part of the building. It was complete with laundry detergent and fabric softener too. So, she gathered up the clothes that she had worn so far and quickly did her laundry (she had watched Pip and Bud do their own the day before after she had told everyone else where they can do their laundry, so she knew how to work the machines). She was grateful that no one else had spotted her doing this in her dressing gown, it would’ve been embarrassing. By time her clothes were done in the tumble dryer, she rushed back to her room and put on her clothes while they were still warm. Now she started to feel fabulous again. She brushed her hair and tied it back, wondering if it’ll be good on her. And keep it out of the way while she made herself breakfast.

Mimi was done making herself look great and started to head back downstairs. No one else was still awake it seemed, but she didn’t want to wait. Mimi was about to head to the kitchen, but stopped herself. She quickly ran to one of the windows for a shop. She stared hard at her reflection before ripping out the hair tie. She fussed over her hair furiously. She can’t be seen like this. She’s in such a state. No matter how much she put into her looks, she can’t get it right. This truly isn’t fabulous at all!

“You’re up early.” Dude commented suddenly. Mimi turned to see him standing at the entranceway to the shops, Rainbow sitting next to him. He had spotted her after he had decided to get something from the supermarket. He was curious to know what was bothering her.

“Couldn’t get back to sleep…” Mimi mummers. She scowled at her reflection as she tried to smooth out her hair. “I’m a mess!”

“No you’re not.” Dude sighed, carefully approaching Mimi.

“Yes I am! You don’t get it because you’re a boy.” She shouted, whipping her head to face him.

“Harsh.” Dude hissed, holding his hands up as he steps back a little. Mimi’s words caught up to her, and she immediately regretted her words.

“Sorry.” She sighed, covering her face with her hands.

“It’s okay.” Dude offered a smile. He knew that Mimi didn’t mean to lash out. She was just stressed. She uncovered her face and tried again to gather up her hair. However, she just scowled at her own reflection and tried to fix her hair again. Dude spotted a hair tie around her wrist. “Do you need a hand?”

Mimi glanced at him and he gestured at the hair tie. Her shoulders slumped and glumly handed over the accessory. She continued to look at her reflection until Dude gently pulled her away from it. He gestured for her to sit down in a bench, to which she obliged. He tried to be gentle in pulling her hair back before wrapping the hair tie around it. Rainbow had taken it upon himself to sit by Mimi, wagging his tail as the blonde started to pat his head. It was a little messy with some hair poking out from the tie, but it’ll do to keep it out of the way.

“Sorry if it’s not great.” Dude smiled kindly, gently patting Mimi’s shoulder. Mimi shrugged, giving up on what she looked like. Dude thought of something that might make her laugh a little, to cheer her up. “Could be worse I guess.”

“How so?” Mimi asked with a raised eyebrow as she stood up.

“You could have bald patches.” Dude shrugged trying to keep a straight face. Mimi could tell that he was joking around. She let out a big dramatic gasp as she pretended to feel her hair.

“How dare you!” She playfully scolded, smacking Dude’s shoulder. She didn’t hit him hard, but the jokes stopped when he winced a little. Mimi ceased her smiling as he started to rub the area. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just an injury from a couple days ago. It’s not a big deal.” Dude tried to shrug it off and started to walk way. Mimi didn’t believe that. It was an injury from a couple days ago, or so Dude had claimed. It might not be that serious to him, but she just wanted to make sure that everything really was okay.

“Let me take a look.” She insisted, standing in front of Dude. Dude shook his head a little, still trying to brush off. Two can play at that game. Mimi wouldn’t let Dude pass her. Every time he made a move to go past, Mimi followed his steps like a shadow. No matter how fast Dude tried to move past her, Mimi seemed to match his speed almost perfectly. Even Rainbow was worried and started to help Mimi with blocking Dude’s path. They went on like this for about a minute until Dude finally gave in. He gave out a sigh as he gestured to his shoulder. Mission accomplished. Mimi gently pushed the sleeve up, doing her best not to touch the possibly tender skin. Her eyes were met with a large bruise that had become a bluish purple, starting to turn a yellowish colour.

“That’s quite a huge bruise.” She said quietly, gently tracing her fingers around the bruise.

“It happened during practice. It’s nothing to worry about.” Dude immediately shrugged off the concern, covering up the bruise again. Rainbow nudged his hand a little, but Dude only rubbed his head reassuringly. Before he was asked anymore questions, he stepped around Mimi quick enough for her to not to keep up. Mimi watched him as he finally started to disappear in one of the kitchens. He made it seem like it was nothing. Maybe it was. But Mimi had a nagging feeling that there was more to it. Maybe she shouldn’t ask about it now, she’s already overstepped a little by looking at Dude’s shoulder. Give him some space and time about the issue. There’s still a possibility that he’ll keep hiding it, but if it’s not forced out of him, maybe he’ll come around.

Mimi felt her hand being nudged a little. She looked down to see Rainbow still standing by her. He was looking up at her with wide eyes. Guess he was concerned too. Mimi patted his head again and gestured for him to come along. He wasn’t allowed in the kitchens but he was welcome to escort her there. Especially with Dawn lurking around somewhere. Mimi didn’t make up much. The last thing that she wanted was to feel insecure about her weight on top of everything else. She met up with Dude as he was making his way to a table, Rainbow once again following them both. Neither of them said anything as they started to sit down. Only to get a bit of a shock when heard a strange sound as they sat down.

“What the-“ Dude exclaimed. He stood up and picked up a green whoopie cushion. Mimi did the same, holding up the same object with her forefinger and thumb. Dude rolled his eyes and scanned the area. His eyes landed on something green. “Sprout!”

“Got you!” Sprout cackled, running away to the kitchens. Rainbow charged excitedly after him. He was wearing the clothes that he got after the challenge. He and Candi had found out that there were several copies of them in his wardrobe. At least he didn’t need to wash his clothes in a hurry unlike everyone else. He even painted his face perfectly like it was yesterday. He was really proud of how he turned out.

“I’m going to kill him…” Mimi grumbled, disdainfully dropping the practical joke.

“Let him have his five minutes of fame.” Dude chuckled lightly, retaking his seat. “He was able to do a challenge on his own remember?”

“I guess you’re right.” Mimi muttered, resting her chin in her hand. She honestly didn’t want to be reminded of what happened to Sprout yesterday. He did have a wobbly start and nearly got himself killed via electrocution. Not to mention there was that moment where he went catatonic for a couple of minutes. Mimi didn’t know what went through his head when that happened, but she shuddered to think that it might happen to everyone. And what if they don’t snap out of it in enough time to win the challenge? It could end everything for them. Sprout gave them a head start mostly out of luck it seemed. Who knows how long that will last for?

“What’s wrong?” Dude’s voice suddenly cut through Mimi’s thoughts. She jumped a little as she had forgotten that he was there.

“I guess I’m just worried for the other challenges.” Mimi confessed. She might as well let it out before it distracted her too much. “What if we all face them on our own?”

“Unfortunately it’s not up to us.” Dude shrugged. Not the answer that Mimi wanted. Then again, she didn’t know what kind of answer she wanted. Dude could see the conflict on her face and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, we’ll be okay.”

Dude’s hand stayed there until the others started to come downstairs. He didn’t want things to feel awkward. Meanwhile, Mimi was considering his words. He sounded pretty confident, which is more than what she had right now. She just needs to calm down and try to not think about this too hard. If she let it cloud her, then she probably won’t be able to focus on the challenge. As soon as she finishes breakfast, she’s distressing again. She has to try to stay calm. Too bad she didn’t have a sketchbook to design clothes, but she had enough cosmetics and a good hairbrush to help her out with distressing.

#skyline gang #skyline gang butlins #skylinegang #skyline gang fanfic

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100dayproductivity · 1 year

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51/100.

Good job again yesterday caring for my toe and leg. It takes so much time though! Who has time for self-care day in and day out?? I will try to foot bath & foam roller again today but I have other priorities today.

I did get the two tasks on my list done yesterday: shred my oldest income tax documents; and sort out money owed between me and my ex. (Money owed is for expenses incurred on our children, so if one of us pays for something, the other owes their share of the expense. Normally he pays for most things and sends me a bill for my portion. Occasionally I'm the one that pays for something, which is why there is a bit of accounting involved sometimes. Yes, it's tedious.)

Continuing on with income tax, the next step is to go through my email inbox and put everything that I need for my taxes into a separate folder. One of these years I will be organized and put things in a separate folder as soon as I get them so they're already corralled come tax time, but 2022 was not the year. Geez, here's a brain wave: how about I create a 2023 folder while I'm at it so I can start doing it for this year?

Other priorities today: get ready for my week with my kids. That means grocery shopping for breakfast, lunch, dinner and snack food for them. Well guess what? I already accomplished some of that this morning. I picked up bread and lunch fixings, milk and cereal. I've taken beef out of the freezer for dinner tonight. I still have fruit for their after school snack. I may need to just pop over to the produce store for some vegetables, although I may be able to make do tonight with the bit of cabbage I still have left and buy more produce tomorrow.

Other priorities today: go to the pet store to pick up litter and poop bags. Well guess what? I already did that too! (Winning!) Not only that, but I brought the dog in my care with me on the errands (she loves the pet store--they give her treats; hates the food shopping because she has to wait outside) so I got the walk and errands all done in one go before lunch.

Priorities yet to be done today: tidy kitchen table and take some fruit out of the fridge before my kids get home; tidy stove and counter tops before it's time to make supper; and put away laundry before end of the day. That reminds me, there are towels from a dog pee accident in the washing machine that have gone through a rinse but need to go through a wash cycle. Forgot about it yesterday.

My elderly cat was snuggling with me for warmth while I was writing this. Hate to disturb him when he's snuggling for warmth! But he just left so no excuses; gotta get on my chores list.

#100 days of productivity #100dop #chores #to do today #income tax #filing taxes #getting organized #self care

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aloctx · 1 year

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Friends with(out) benefits

When I think about and try to process the events of that night, I see a supercut of all the good times we had together. Us in the kitchen of my first apartment, surrounded by all of our friends. I bought so much beer and alcohol for someone who doesn't drink much but I was celebrating finally having a home to call my own. Your first solo apartment is a big deal! I think about you sneaking me a kiss in my laundry room because nobody knew we liked to kiss, even though I’m more than sure everyone could see the chemistry. I think about high school and how you were alway cracking jokes and making everyone around you laugh. I think about your baby face, pink lips, and always-dazed stare and it's almost romantic. I quickly snap out of it and my stomach starts to turn and the butterflies turn into bubbles. A swarm of feelings inundate me along with guilt and a physical feeling in my stomach which turns it sour. My brain forces me to remember the highlights instead of the lows like the substance abuse, the money that only came from mommy and daddy, the calls your ex girlfriend made to harass me and your laughing in the background. Why aren’t those memories front and center? Why does my subconscious root for you every time?

All I can remember is that I can’t actually remember who I was the day after it happened. I woke up nauseous, hung over, and the owner of a new and not-improved brain. I was even lucky enough to block ‘the event’ from my brain for months, no, years actually. I didn’t even call it sexual assault until the first person I told pointed it out — “What do you mean they were having sex with you while you were unconscious? You mean while they raped you???” — and calling it what it was for the first time, rape, was out of the question. I’d get a brief flashback, like dejavu, every time I smelled Tequila or heard your name but it was tucked away so deep to try to keep myself safe that I didn’t even realize how much damage it was doing and had already done. The wound was festering and I had a bright pink bandaid on that section of my memory to avoid making sense of it further.

‘Oh, I don't drink’. ‘I HATE the taste of alcohol.’, ‘I’m taking some sober time for my health.’. I adapted and learned to perfect my excuse as to why I couldn’t partake in something so natural for someone in their 20’s having fun. I’m 30 years old now and my stomach still turns when I attempt to take a sip of anything that might inebriate me. For a long time, I thought maybe I just didn’t like alcohol or that I was allergic or that I just wasn’t as cool as I wanted to be. Time and tests have proven those conclusions wrong. I like to drink, I like the feeling of being a completely lucid version of my true being, but I don’t like being out of control. This doesn't mean I'm afraid of it becoming a problematic vice, because trust me, I've tried to develop problematic vices time and time again to no avail. (Honorable mentions to cocaine, nicotine, and weed.) Take for instance, if I’m surrounded by people I completely trust like my family or my partner, I can drink and get drunk and feel fine the next day. If I’m out at a bar or with people I'm only acquaintances or somewhat friendly with, forget it. The moment I take a sip of alcohol, I feel physically ill. My brain triggers my body to say ‘STOP, WE ARE IN DANGER!’, and I give up without even thinking about it twice. I try this every time without any success but I’m able to down 6 gin and tonics when it’s my partner taking care of me and my fragile brain.

I remember waking up, naked while you penetrated me. Covered in your bodily fluids with a phone camera pointed at my unconscious body. ‘How did I get so drunk?’. For how physical the situation was, it very much felt like an out-of-body experience. It felt like I was watching as a third party behind two-way glass. No matter how hard I yelled or pounded on the glass for it to stop, nobody could hear me. When my brain found a connection back to my physical body, I asked you to stop. It was so difficult to open my heavy eyes. When I did, I asked you to stop again. I remember being way too calm, like I didn’t want to embarrass you. You looked startled, like a deer caught in headlights. I gathered all my physical and mental strength and lunged up towards you and your phone. ‘STOP IT! I NEED YOU TO STOP.’ I remember you apologizing profusely. ‘IM SORRY I'M SORRY I'M DELETING IT NOW I'M SORRY.’ You gathered your things and left. That’s all I remember. That’s all I remember now. The next morning, I woke up, showered, and just pretended nothing happened because that would never happen to me? In my home? At my birthday party? With someone I had willingly slept with before? ‘Nope, it didn't happen. Just a fucked up dream.’. It’s been almost a decade and I still deal with the events of that night every time I want to unwind and have a drink.

I’ve been open about my experience now that I’ve been able to accept that it happened to me. Most of the time, my story is received with love and support and empathy. Other times, it's met with questions, questions I don’t like too much. ‘Why didn’t you report it?’, ‘Why did you wait so long?’, ‘Maybe you consented before you passed out?’, ‘What's the big deal, weren’t you guys sleeping together anyways?’. I’ve stopped humoring most of these questions and using them as a way to weed out who does and does not have a place in my life. Those who are truly curious automatically or through a brief explanation understand why. I’m going to therapy, reading self help books, taking care of my physical health, and doing everything in my power to continue not letting this sexual assault define me but it will forever be a part of my story. The writing has helped my healing process. I’ve written a poem about it as well and every year, I’m able to make strides towards letting it be part of my narrative without having to necessarily accept it. Processing the trauma will forever be part of my narrative but I don’t have to accept it. I mean, who would? My mom would blame it on me being stubborn and that’s probably a part of it. The truth is, I choose to only accept the good and the bad that has helped shape me. This experience helped change me, but it changed me into a more sheltered and cautious version of who I prefer to be, hence, I do not accept it. I’m sure I will someday, but for now, I’m happy with just sharing my story.

#healing #personal essay #sexualassault #ptsd

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chelleztjs18 · 1 year

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Hello you mrs. sandwich eater organizer lefty eyebag 😅

I am good today, doing laundry. How are you?

Yes, that's how I imagined Nat and Yelena too! I think that's why I don't read much Nat x R together because I see them more as just best friends, siblings or even roommates. But definitely like a devils advocate to R hahaha then with Yelena, same thing. Like best friends since birth, ride or die, can't get rid of.

Don't get me started on that sexual tension stuff that you write about R and Wanda hahaha I get all giddy and then angry because they're so stubborn! And you wrote the details so good, I think one time I got mad at you because you were toying with my emotions 🤣 all is forgiven though lol

So do you bring snacks on the plane?

Also, why of all places, did you guys choose to move to Oklahoma?

Correct, that's how I am. I'm glad that the people I was with before didn't complain about it. But at the same time, I wonder if they regret not getting much sex.

Nah, you made my eye roll, so now I can't see because of how far back it rolled ahahahaha okay, if you can guess what meal wins my heart instantly, then you win.

There was this studio that had brick walls. I was going for that kind of look, but someone took the space before me. I am the same way, I have a lot of paintings on my wall. It used to be a lot of dark paintings (my ex loves Halloween or spooky season) but since she took all that, I decided to hang the artworks I've done over the summer time.

When I build or buy my own house, I want to have a dark room to be able to do photography again. It's been my dream to have a small den where half of it is where I can paint, thne the other half is where I can develop photos.

That's a good idea, have the less used item on the bottom shelf. Cause in my place, it only comes with one cabinet for the pantry, its a tall cabinet too. Then the usual shelves for plates and cups. I hate that it's a small kitchen, but I like it at the same time lol

That's cute, a little signature 🤣 please tell me you can do a British impression?

Do you have a weakness?

-CuriousGeorge

hello you certain chip eater in a flatten sandwich righty eyebag! I'm back. sorry for the late answer. i hope u r still awake.

my day got a bit busy today. i did some laundry n fold some of them. :)

Ah i see. i like reading Natasha as the love interest..but Kate and Yelena, i dont really read them as love interest. plus i havent got the chance to read more. if i read more maybe i can change my mind about it.

hahaha to be honest, i actually laughed when i read ur comments here about the Ten Days and the sexual tensions. lol. which part in it that got u "angry"? hahaha. well, be prepare for that in the next chapters of Ten Days :D

Aaww really? i'm glad u enjoy it. it reallly made u feel giddy n then angry? thats good! that was kinda what i was trying to do :P for people have that emoitonal roller coaster but in a funny way n some jokes in it. i just love to put funny part in my fluff. :D

have u read my christmas fic with wanda n the maximoffs twin boys? "the best christmas" i think. haha. there is a joke n funny scene that i am low key proud of it. lol.

nah, not really. i mostly just get some water, iced tea or iced coffee when i fly.

we moved to Oklahoma because he got a job in a biggest weed farm in Oklahoma. :D

well, past is past. If they didn't complain about it, it means that it wasnt the main problem n it doesnt bother them. n don't feel bad about it. understanding in relationship is mutual. plus u told me that u dont mind with it to make them feel good n loved. So you've done ur best and didnt do anything wrong. :) i hope i make u feel a bit better? :D

hmmm whats ur favorite food or meals that wins ur heart. how about italian? something like pasta? did i guess it right? hahaha

dark paintings? something like what? like scary pictures? ouh i love how brick walls look like. that would be nice if u can get the brick studio. sometimes i imagine how it feels if i live in a penthouse a brick and minimalist rustic vibe or theme. industrial theme is nice too.

dark room? isnt it for printing photos in an old way? photographers nowadays still do that?

if i build my own house i want one movie theater room with a very good quality surround sound with cozy couch and full bar. hahaha. so i can enjoy movies and listening to music or watch concerts videos with good quality sound. n i want a nice large kitchen complete with anything u can think of to help u cook with a nice huge walk in pantry. hahaha.

yeah, i understand what u meant with ur cabinet n pantry size. but so far right now it's only u, so it wouldnt be needed to stock bunch of stuff :)

haha yeah my signature. n no i cant do brits impression. i wish i could speak in british accent though.

weakness? i'm a little confuse with what u meant. if i answer praises n compliments, are they what u meant?my other answer probably soft touches, because it's my love language.

or did u mean weakness as in my negative traits (which is sound like a job interview) lol

next questions?

Cheerio!

#chellez answers #ask answered #anon answered #curious george anon

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harleyshahas · 2 years

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You know, I'm 30 years old, I have a house, a kid, I pay taxes, and I'm engaged. I work full time overnight 3-4 days a week for 12 hour shifts. My fiance is the same. We each work opposite ends of the week so one of us can be home with our son. By the end of either of our work weeks we are exhausted, mentally and physically. Two days out of our week we each get maybe 5 hours of sleep when one gets home from work so that they may be able to take over watching the tot for the start of the weekend. We clean when we can.

I don't have a bad relationship with my parents. My stepmom is pretty patient and understanding and I have a pretty good relationship with her, I can talk to her about things easy enough. My mom... while we get along and I love her, I feel our relationship is a little more strained. She has a tendency to raise her voice as she speaks without realizing and she gets progressively more short as a conversation goes on. She has to be taken in stride. She is by no means a bad mom.

However, she has a tendency to nag.

"Oh your feeding [my kid] chicken nuggets? You need to cook more, you can't always feed him that."

"You need to clean out your car. You need to vacuum/sweep/mop. You need to clean the bathroom. Do the dishes. Wipe down the cabinets. Clean the windows. Your mirrors are disgusting. How much laundry do you have?Your yard is starting to look a little rough." Its like I'm still living with them. 😮‍💨

I have a 1 year old toddler, a dog, a cat, and two step kids. I work 12 hours overnight. I get very little sleep already from from depression, undiagnosed BP, and insomnia. We've only been in our new house for a year, and my fiance have been slowly rebuilding our lives from previous financial drains before we managed to get where we are. And where we are is pretty good now.

Every now and again I hear an "I'm proud of you" from my mom but those feel so few and far between. Even my stepmom dishes out praise pretty sparingly. Normally I can ignore the nagging, take a deep breath, and let it roll off me. It's something I'm used to. But lately it feels like it's too much. Every time I see them or talk to her on the phone it's always something. "Have you taken care of this thing yet?"

She called not too long ago and it happened again. I mentioned that my back hurt and I was exhausted because I've been up since 6am (it's almost 9pm now) with the baby and instead of napping like I would have normally when I laid him down for his nap, I decided 'Hey, I feel like cleaning. There's a pile of laundry that needs to be folded on the kitchen table, there's more in one of our six baskets, I have three more loads I gotta do. The floor is sticky from Damian's grubby little hands and needs to be swept anyway. And I might as well vacuum, my parents are coming over tomorrow and the dog's been shedding like crazy. Might as well.' So I opened the windows and got to work. I was feeling pretty accomplished.

So I mentioned I was hurting and tired, and I have to give Damian a bath as soon as I'm done typing this, and I still have even more laundry to go thru, which I'm gonna put off now cuz I'm not in the mood. So I told my mother I gave the house a good deep clean cuz it needed it, spring cleaning and all that. And she says.

"Good, your house needed it."

I... I know? I just said that?

"What you really need to do is clean your baseboards. The ones in your bathroom are looking rough."

I... what?

"Did you notice I cleaned your cabinets last time I was over? They needed a good wipe down."

No. No I didn't. You know why? Because I have a dog, a cat, and a 1 year old who all like to put their grubby little mitts all over everything and those cabinets you wiped down with a wet cloth got dirty again the next day. I don't care about the fucking cabinets.

Is it so wrong to fish for a little praise? My house is very well kept, the worse it gets is baby toys all over the living room and we do our best to pick those up when they get to be too much. There's miscellaneous nicknacks on the kitchen table and counters we're still trying to figure out where to put them. We keep a very nice house and I'm proud of it. We've come a long way.

Every now and then my parents tell me their proud. But a majority of the time it's nagging and this time it just hit a little harder than normal, probably because mother's day is coming up. It'll be my second one for myself and I have two moms to think about. Maybe I want to be excited for it.

Kinda hard to do that when I'm fucking annoyed.

Part of why I cleaned so much today is because I know they're coming over tomorrow and I'm trying to limit the amount of nagging I'm gonna hear. But I shouldn't have to do that. And it pisses me off that I feel I have to. Because I know they're just gonna find something to nag about anyway. Like, I'm sorry my house isn't as big and nice as my sister's?

#harley rants #i was actually having a decent day too #i started to raise my voice as i was ranting earlier and had to stop myself #because i didnt want to upset my baby #thats when i started typing this #just wanted to get it out #its not something ive ever talked about on social media before #maybe i'll vent like this more often #time to give Damian a bath

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theprimipara · 2 years

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Thoughtful Thursday

Happy Thursday! I hope you all are doing great and conquering your week! Today, we will be taking time to talk about our routines. I will be providing advice on the best methods on how to get through the day, still get your work done, and give your little ones the time and attention they need to minimize mom guilt!

To start off, I just want to say, I am no expert. I am still a learning mama, I make mistakes, and I have off days. This is okay. It’s okay to want breaks, it’s okay to want to hide in the pantry, we’ve all been there. What’s most important for your kids is to be a happy, healthy mom. They don’t need perfection, they don’t need the world's best, they just need a mama who knows when to step back and put herself first.

Okay, so the number one tool that saved me so much time after I had my daughter, as a young mom still in school, was a baby wrap. This is the best thing that I can recommend for any mom who has lots to do during the day! My personal favorite is the Boppy Baby Carrier. It is a duo carrier, which means that it has both the features of a typical strap-on baby carrier and a wrap. I preferred to use this one as opposed to just the strap-on or just the wrap because it provides great support for the baby, without getting stretched out during your use of it and it's a more snug and closed fit, so that the baby feels more supported.

Next, this is for my early bird moms, if you naturally wake up before the sun, before the kids, this one's for you! If your kiddos are already on a routine and you know what time they’ll be waking up, great! If not, don’t beat yourself up about it. In the mornings, I usually like to start off my day with a quick shower, jump into some comfy clothes (I said comfy, not entirely bummy, getting dressed helps you mentally prepare for the day), and get your morning started to your liking. Before my daughter wakes up, I usually like to knock out the big household tasks for the day. This makes it easier to handle the smaller ones throughout my day. So, with that being said, start on a load of laundry, do a 15 minute kitchen clean, or handle the dishes. Whatever is standing out to you the most, set a 15-30 minute timer and work on it for that amount of time only! You’d be impressed with what you can get done in a set amount of time, even if you only get halfway through it, you got some stuff out of the way! After finishing any large tasks, take whatever time you have left to prepare breakfast for yourself and your kiddos, this does not have to be a luxurious, nutritious, top of the line meal, it can literally just be a PopTart if you feel like its a PopTart king of day, mama! For my new moms, your baby may not be eating breakfast yet, so go ahead and prepare their bottle, baby food, or get yourself ready to breastfeed!

I know that it can be hard getting ready for the day as a new mom, but sometimes, it can be just what you need. Thank goodness we put on some comfy clothes earlier, this makes it a billion times easier to catch your kids while getting them ready for the day! Remember, take it slow, the most important part was getting yourself ready, and you did it! If you have older kids, be open to letting them pick out their own clothes for the day, you may not get (what you think is) the most coordinated, put together outfit, but we’re choosing our battles! Make getting ready fun, turn on your music and be open minded!

Choose your battles, mama. This will make your day go way more smoothly. No parent is perfect, fights with your kids do happen. That doesn’t mean we can’t do anything to minimize them. In my experience, my daughter responded better by just knowing she also had a say in what was going on. Be able to read the room, if your kid is tired or cranky, avoid putting energy into the minor things. Let your little ones learn for themselves. This doesn’t mean completely falling back from parenting, make sure you step in when it comes to the really important stuff. Obviously, we don’t want them walking into the street alone or breaking something that could physically hurt them, but the best lessons are taught through personal experience. Some examples of when to back down from battles include letting kids wear what they want, going coatless, not wanting to eat a particular food, and even letting them do homework on their own terms. Some examples of when to put your foot down include bedtime, brushing teeth, hygiene routines, chores, and behavior.

Thank you all so much for tuning in on this beautiful Thursday! Take it easy and choose your battles! Until next time, stay happy, stay healthy, and I look forward to chatting with you beautiful souls tomorrow! ❤️

#new mom #motherhood #mom life #gentle parenting #choose your battles #power in routine #theprimipara

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gorey · 3 years

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i haven't eaten pasta in so long

#laundry is done which means kitchen day is next which means i will be able to cook if i magic the energy up #a #s

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kuroosweakness · 3 years

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domestic things the haikyuu boys do to show that they care

↳ it all seems too good to be true. that’s because they’re not real :’

━ sakusa kiyoomi

- always let you shower first so you can get all the warm water. (but don’t too long, don’t leave him without any hot water at all :’) (or i guess u guys can shower together ... )

- puts your towel in the dryer before your shower. he has many, many reasons for this:

your towel will be nice and cozy when you walk out the shower 🥺

he’ll have to hand the towel to you, meaning he’ll have a reason to go inside the warm, steamy bathroom

he’ll be able to wrap you tightly with the towel the moment you step out. sakusa can’t leave you abandoned with just a towel, so naturally, he’ll sit you on the bathroom counter (even with you sitting on the counter, he’s still taller <3) and dry your hair, comb your hair, pat your body dry, lotion your body, blow-dry your hair, and all the other steps of your skin-care routine

imagine standing next to each other, staring into the mirror as you both brush your teeth, him softly side-butting you, you side-butting him back (except he moved to the side and now you just awkwardly side-butted the air ... there goes his satisfactory smirk 🙄<3)

(just before drying your hair, he’ll rub strands of your hair between his palms to make it stick up, and stand back to admire the view. you’re adorable)

(oh to be pampered by sakusa :’)) how does it feel to have won life?)

(it hurts knowing we’ve never seen animated sakusa smile)

━ kita shinsuke

- he always walks on the outer side of the sidewalk when the two of you are walking side by side to keep you safe from the road. it’s a small, subtle gesture, but a gesture that doesn’t go overseen. this also means his left hand will always be holding your right hand

- picks things up for you. on his way home, he’ll always call and ask if you want anything. if you have a delivery package you need to pick up, he’ll do it for you. if you want a cup of coffee from your favorite cafe, he’ll buy one for you :)

- he loves and cares for your family like his own. this goes a long way. it truly shows how important you are to him

(to those who doesn’t have a very ... good family or a family that wouldn’t be interested in caring for your partner, i’m sorry to hear about that babes :’( i can relate, we’re in this together!)

━ oikawa tōru

- always talks in terms of “we” instead of “i”, “me”, and “you”. he always includes you in conversations so you never feel left out! whenever you are, he wants you to feel acknowledged and included.

- defends you in every conversation. if someone were to talk badly or make unwanted remarks about you, oikawa will be right there to drag them down. oikawa may talk a lot but it’s gotten him the advantage to be really good with his words. try winning an argument with him, you can’t (unless ur iwaizumi lol)

- anyone that stares at you for too long, he’ll give his harshest glare. oikawa’s one of those people who can just sense bad vibes from people. he tells you all about his instincts so no “bad guys” can get to you

- relationship with oikawa = lots of pillowtalk

━ miya atsumu

- if you carry purses/bags around, he always offers to hold onto your purse/bag when you go to the bathroom. he’ll casually sling it over his shoulder like it’s his own, no awkwardness here! he’s proud to be your boyfriend and it shows.

(guys who carries purses for their partners with confidence > other guys)

- if the two of you walk out of a store into pouring rain without an umbrella, atsumu will tell you to wait inside the store while he goes to start the car. he’ll drive to the front of the store so you won’t have to get wet from the rain

(i just know atsumu’s one of those guys who looks so hot while driving without even trying- darn him <3)

━ akaashi keiji

- beings extra everything around for you. band-aids, hair-ties, gum, cash, an extra jacket in his trunk, a cup in case of stomach-emergencies, and even a pair of socks in case the rain seeps through your shoes. he has it all. feeling safe is one of the many good feelings you feel around akaashi

- when you share a small umbrella, akaashi always makes sure it completely covers you, even if it means water is dripping down his shoulder.

- when he comes across a good book, a good movie, good song, he’ll have that spark in his beautiful eyes when he tells you all about them. he wants you to also enjoy the good in his life :) (he also tells you about his past mistakes/incidents to warn you about the bad)

━ bokuto kōtarō

- goes to bed before you, lying on your spot of the bed to warm it up. when you walk into the bedroom, you’ll see bo’s head sticking out of the covers with a huge grin. he’s so cute without even trying djkfldj

- adores massaging you. he’ll regularly massage you, run his hand across your tummy, sit you in his lap, squeeze you with his biceps, play with your thighs, yeah it’s quite obvious how much he loves you.

rough day? regular day? be prepared to lay on your tummy so bokuto can give you a massage :) don’t be too surprised when he attempts new massage moves that “our professional massager did on us! (msby)”

you know what else he loves? when you massage him! he loves coming home with sore muscles to a home-made massage by the person who never fails to make him smile. not the best massage in the world, but you’re trying and he loves it more than explainable.

- brings you the remote without complaint. puts your plate back to the kitchen without complaint. puts your clothes in the laundry basket without complaint.

━ miya osamu

- always offers to carry the grocery bags. even if he can barely see past the pile of bags in his arms, he’ll insist on carrying them. his competitive side comes out during times like these; he’ll try to impress you by carrying more and more each time. even with how heavy the groceries may be, he hasn’t dropped/broken anything ...yet!

- leaves the last bit of food for you. last slice of pizza? yours. last bit of milk left? for your cereal. last piece of cake? yours. he never eats the last piece without checking with you first, no matter how hungry he is. eating food without leaving you any is like betrayal.

- blocks the sunlight out of your eyes with his arm/hand. especially in the morning when the sunlight glares through the window.

━ suna rintarō

- charges your phone for you. sometimes, he’ll tap on your lockscreen to check your battery percentage when you go to sleep and charge it when the battery bar is low. you don’t have to worry about forgetting to charge your phone with suna around.

- turns off his phone when you talk to him so you can have his full attention

- untangles your mess of cords. he always glares and heavily sighs whenever he sees tangled cords. no one knows how, but suna’s exceptionally good with untangling stuff

━ kuroo tetsurō

- cleans the hair from your shower for you. he really doesn’t like it, but he knows you hate it more, which is why he does it for you. even though it’s not a favorite activity of his, he doesn’t really mind, it’s natural.

- he’ll talk to the people/call the people you don’t want to. if you don’t want to say your drive-thru order, he’ll do it for you. if you want to know the price of a shirt but there isn’t a tag, he’ll talk to a store-worker for you. instead of being annoyed at you for “not being to do simple things”, he’ll help you out without a single word of complaint. there’ll be some teasing, but no harm done. he’s very understanding and patient

(my bias is showing. he’s my comfort person, what can i do :’)

- he made up a code with you. four tugs on the hem of his shirt means you’re not feeling well/uncomfortable. (there are also many other signals and code words)

this is especially helpful when you’re out at parties, big events, malls, etc etc. as soon as he feels your tugs, he’ll whip around and study your face, leading you to a quieter place to ask how you’re feeling. if you want to go home, then home it is.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu comfort #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu hcs #akaashi x reader #suna x reader #osamu x reader #sakusa x reader #bokuto x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou #oikawa x reader #atsumu x reader #kita x reader

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pippytmi · 3 years

Note

Roommates au, enemies to lovers, “you confuse me.” Supercorp obvs

“You’re a fucking liar.”

This is—objectively speaking—not the worst greeting Kara has ever received from her roommate, and so she takes it in stride. “Uh, hello to you…too,” Kara says slowly, silently running through a list of everything she could have done wrong to warrant such strong words.

But Lena does not offer any explanation; in fact, when she spots Kara in the doorway, she sends her a nasty glare as if Kara has said something wrong. “Don’t pretend you’re a saint in this matter, Lex,” Lena hisses, and only then does Kara notice the cell phone in Lena’s hands. “If I have to go and clean up your mess again…”

So it’s one of those days. Kara wisely shuts the door quietly behind her, and sneaks into the kitchen as Lena takes her argument into her room.

There is a list of chores pinned to the fridge—four black X’s cross out Lena’s, and Kara’s are underlined twice. They have a code, so as to avoid speaking to each other; X’s mean done, underlined means Kara you're a slob and a pain in the ass to live with. (All verbatim, by the way.)

The dishes, however, are not on Kara’s agenda at the moment. She instead takes the expensive whiskey hidden under the sink (that belongs to Alex, not that she has noticed it’s missing), and pours it into a glass with some ice. Then she whips out the ingredients for a stir fry, complete with every vegetable she had been saving for the potluck at work this weekend.

It is an unspoken rule that Lena will shut herself off into her room after this phone call is over. She does that every time her brother calls (and on occasion her mother), and Kara has picked up enough information about her roommate to know Lena will appreciate a hard drink and some food. She hasn’t said so or anything, but every time Kara knocks three times on the door and leaves a plate outside, it will re-emerge an hour later completely empty.

Lena’s voice grows louder despite the distance, and Kara turns on the stereo out of respect for her roommate's privacy. Lena hates the stereo and all it stands for; she argues it is outdated, and they have numerous pieces of technology that are less bulky and fully able to connect to radio stations. But Kara keeps it around anyway, because she still likes buying CD’s (and maybe to bother Lena, which is a bonus).

Blink-182 is playing on that alternative station Alex likes. Kara cranks it up as she cooks, singing under her breath as she sautes bell peppers and onions, ignoring the rumble of her stomach and the tight belt of her work pants still digging into her hips. “Say it ain’t so, I will not go,” she practically yells, poking her head into the fridge for the tofu that Lena always keeps. Kara personally won’t touch the stuff, but Lena is trying to eat less meat. It cuts up easily enough, even though Kara isn’t sure what the proper technique is.

She leaves the finished plate and drink outside after it’s done, rapping on Lena’s door in tune with The White Stripes’ “Seven Nation Army,” and then finally has some dinner herself. Since the tofu is unappetizing, Kara stores the rest of the stir fry in a container for Lena to take for lunch, and opts for a sandwich. She eats while scrolling through her notifications (she owes Nia twenty bucks, and so far Nia has been clogging up her phone with Venmo requests all well over $500), and keeps the radio on just for background noise.

That’s probably why she doesn’t even notice when Lena approaches; Kara has barely begun to type a text to Nia swearing to bring some cash next time she visits when a sharp voice declares,

“You confuse me.”

Which. Is not at all what Kara expected from her usually empty kitchen. And, caught exceptionally off guard, she nearly falls off her chair. “What the—Lena,” she sputters, righting herself. Unfortunately, the crust of her sandwich is a casualty of the surprise, and she watches as it crumples devastatingly on the floor.

Lena is not half as concerned about the fate of her dinner, and she stalks forward to jab a finger at Kara’s chest. “You confuse me,” she repeats.

Kara blinks. Then blinks again. “Um, okay,” she says. “…why?”

A strange, strangled noise rises from Lena’s mouth, and she appears angrier than Kara has ever seen. (Well, except for that one time that Kara did laundry and flooded the apartment laundromat, which had other pissed off tenants leaving mean messages for two weeks straight). “Because,” angrier-than-usual Lena says, “you do shit like cook food for me and don’t even say anything.”

“What do you want me to say?” Kara frowns, not sure where this conversation is going. “If you want I can start saying ‘Hey Lena, I made dinner’ every time.”

“You and I don’t do dinner,” Lena says, and it sounds like an accusation. “Every time I get off the phone, you decide to leave food outside my door. Why? What on Earth compels you to do that?”

“Because you’re always upset afterwards,” Kara says slowly. “And I thought you could use some cheering up, or at least a drink.”

“Whiskey,” Lena notes. “It’s always whiskey. And it’s never a cheap brand.”

“Well, yeah,” Kara says, gesturing pointedly to Lena’s designer work clothes (that she never seems to be without; Kara’s not sure Lena even owns pajamas). “You would probably accuse me of poisoning you if I gave you anything less.”

Lena narrows her eyes. “You don’t owe me anything,” she says. “So whatever this is, you can stop it.”

“What do you mean, ‘whatever this is’?” Kara repeats incredulously. “I’m just being nice!”

“I never asked you to be ‘nice’!”

Kara exhales, and reminds herself that it is illegal to strangle people. Especially since she is Lena’s roommate, and will therefore be suspect #1. Kara has never been a violent person, but her roommate just manages to test her limits.

“Look,” Kara says patiently, “I give you my sister’s whiskey, and she doesn’t care because she is trying to give up drinking. And I’m not a frequent cook or anything, but I can still throw together a plate because I know you don’t cook at all. That’s it! I don’t have a hidden agenda, or some secret plot here. I’m just being friendly.”

“We are not friends, Kara Danvers,” Lena says. “And I know exactly what this is, even if you refuse to acknowledge it.”

God, what an insufferable—“Okay, know-it-all,” Kara says, instead of the ruder words echoing through her head. “What am I doing?”

Lena’s jaw clenches noticeably. “You pity me,” she accuses. “You look down at my relationship with my family, and—and I don’t want your sympathy, or your stupid food, anymore.”

“If you wanted me to back off, that’s fine,” Kara says, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “But I don’t pity you, or feel sorry for you. Heck, with your track record, I’d feel more sympathy for your family. They seem to be on the other end of some nasty phone calls.”

Lena’s expression darkens. “You don’t know my family.”

“I don’t know you very well, either,” Kara retorts, and she turns back to her phone where three new Venmo requests are waiting (two of them well in the thousands range; Nia must think she’s hilarious). “Message received, okay? I’ll leave you alone.”

At first, Kara assumes that's the end of it—assumes that Lena is going to stalk off, and leave a strongly worded post-it on the fridge later that night for Kara to wake up to. That has always been how their relationship works; they fight, reiterate how much they hate living together, and go right back to ignoring each other.

But Lena doesn't walk away. Instead she sighs, and at that unexpected sound Kara looks up just in time to catch Lena frowning. “I—” Lena begins, and then she pauses uncomfortably before getting the words out. “I'm...sorry. I have been having the worst day, and it’s—it’s rude of me to take it out on you.”

“Okay,” says Kara dumbly, because she’s not sure what to respond. Lena never apologizes. Ever. It’s about as rare as, well, Kara actually doing her chores on time. “Thanks?”

Lena bites her lip, glances away. “You’re welcome,” she says stiffly. And this time she leaves—leaves, and abandons the plate of food Kara left her on the edge of the table.

Kara looks down at her phone. There are ten texts waiting from Nia, and about double that of Venmo requests. But she can’t shake the feeling that she is forgetting something, and it’s more than a twenty dollar bill. “Wait,” she blurts out, “Lena. What—what does that mean? You were an asshole to me, and I was an asshole right back, so why are you apologizing?”

“Well, you are more than welcome to apologize too,” Lena says, pausing in the kitchen doorway. She has a quizzical expression on her face, a kind of raw confusion that Kara has never seen before. Without the sharp clenched jaw and the angry eyes, she’s…just a girl. A girl, with a nervous tic of wringing her fingers together. A girl, despite her guarded nature, who is gazing right back at Kara as if she has no right to.

“Do you want me to apologize to you?”

A beat. “Not really,” Lena says. “I don’t—want that. You’re right, you don’t know me. Or my family. We’re nothing to each other, and I can’t expect you to know how complicated my relationship with them is.”

“Still,” Kara says, and she scratches the back of her neck absentmindedly at the sudden flush of guilt that overtakes her. “I am sorry. It was rude of me to, um, say that. Like if your family is a bunch of serial killers, who am I to say you’re worse than that?”

Lena scrunches her nose in a manner that is sort of cute. “Serial killers? Really?”

Kara shrugs—aiming for casual—and really that just looks like attempting nonchalance when suddenly she’s consumed with thoughts about how pretty her roommate is. “Like you said,” she says, “I don’t know your family.”

And, surprisingly, all Lena does is smile. A real smile, the kind that Kara has never witnessed, barely soft and just kind enough. “They’re not,” she says, and unnecessarily clarifies, “serial killers.”

“That you know of,” Kara points out, and Lena’s cautious smile becomes something fuller. That is the only thing that gives Kara the courage to add, “So, now that we have covered the whole you’re not your family thing, are you really not going to have dinner? I cooked tofu for you and everything!”

“You didn’t have to,” Lena argues, because she is defensive to a fault. But she falters immediately after, and sighs again, albeit in a more mellowed tone. “What I meant to say is, I really don’t need you to keep cooking for me. I’m fine.”

“Well what if I want to cook for you?” Kara says, and that is her own fault: she is ready to argue to protect her (noble) intentions. “We don’t have to be friends, if it terrifies you that much—”

“It does not terrify me—”

“—but we can be friendly,” Kara offers, and it’s a testament to her newfound appreciation for her roommate that she manages to even make a sentence. “If you want.”

Lena tilts her head, considering, and this time when she smiles it is curious. “If you knew what I wanted, Kara Danvers,” she says, “your delicate sensibilities would blush to their roots.” And with that odd goodbye, she eventually takes her leave; however, she does take the plate of stir fry with her, so Kara guesses that means they’re on their way to being friendly, if anything.

#remember when quarantine started & i asked for prompts?#yeah u read that right a whole ass year ago?#well. uh. so this is embarrassing but-#supercorp #supergirl #i need a fic tag #proudlyunicorn

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miscelunaaa · 2 years

Text

spin cycle 15 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x female reader

genre: drabble series, slow burn, idiots to lovers, fluff, lil bit of angst, eventual smut

summary: This random guy has started doing laundry at your favorite laundromat each week (at the same time as you, no less!) and to be honest, it’s going to be a problem. You’re just not sure how yet.

rating: 18+ for eventual smut

word count: less than 500

warnings: Pre-event/holiday jitters. Academic Hell Week jitters. Jokes about Roomie’s sex life. A joke about Black Friday shopping if you squint. Honestly some of my favorite jokes in the entire series so far.

notes: Hello! I’m back! Thank you for your patience! We are homing in on the end. The next several drabbles are all going to be taking place on the same day, so keep that in mind for future postings. Note also that I think I may be able to have this wrapped up in about 25 parts so!! That’s exciting! Let’s see if it happens!

my masterlist | my disclaimers | read on ao3

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Regardless of if the university is off for Thanksgiving, you’ve been mired in prep for hell week. Final exams are easy. The several papers you have due before exam week are not. You may have been dragged away earlier in the week for a grocery run, sure, but the rest of prep was left to Roomie and her machine-like efficiency. You’re just there for silent emotional support, typing away at the kitchen table as she salts the chicken, preps and chops vegetables, and putters around, cleaning and tidying when she isn’t at work.

When Thursday finally comes, you wake up early to get coffee started and then do your handful of assigned tasks. You double check Roomie’s food prep list for her, as she’s asked. You scrub the toilet and make sure that the bathroom counters are in order. Finally, you dust everything, and by the time you’re finished, the coffee is done brewing. You check the time, and decide to go wake her up before she gets cranky about not waking up early enough.

The morning passes calmly enough. Roomie makes the pie in silence, humming idly to herself as she chops apples and rolls crust out. Your only job at this point is to “be available” which basically means that you keep filling her coffee mug until it’s time to move to wine.

Noon comes, and her stress level moves still higher as Namjoon’s arrival time draws near. You’re in the bathroom when you decide to try to more actively moderate her stress level.

“Do you know anything about his roommate?”

“No. He’s shy, but that’s all Joon’s really told me.”

“Probably don’t do much talking, right?” You tease as she stands in the bathroom, putting her mascara on.

“It’s not like that,” she pouts. “We talk. About stuff. Sometimes.”

“Being called baby girl while he jizzes on your stomach isn’t really talking.”

“Oh my god. If you’re like this when he’s here, I am going to crazy murder you.”

“Look, it’s not my fault I was subjected to this. I tried to block the noise, but the two of you are obscene,” you smirk. Frankly, you were glad one of you was getting laid. There’s only so much tension vibrators can eliminate.

She throws you a look. “After he had to dip Thursday, he wanted to make it up to me.”

“Yeah, but like four times?”

“I doubt he’d want to apologize for art though I’m sorry you had to hear it. I guess I know what to get you for Christmas though.”

“Sound proofing in your room?”

“Sound proofing in my room, yes—wait, it’d be way easier to just get you better headphones. Maybe there’s some wild sale on industrial hearing protection somewhere.”

“Yeah, maybe that’d block out all the jackhammering.”

“I’m glad you’re getting this all out of your system now,” she rolls her eyes.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door.

“Fuck, already?”

“I’ll get them,” you say.

Thank you for reading! Drop me an ask and tell me what you think. Find me in various places at my carrd :)

©miscelunaaa 2022. My work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. Do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work. Thank you.

posted: 4.11.2022

#jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x female reader #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x female reader #jjk fic #bts fanfic #bts fic #eventual smut #domestic nonsense #possumswrite #miscelunaaa #idk what I'm doing in my tags anymore but here we are

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shokobuns · 3 years

Text

“𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭”

in which you slowly give into your desires.

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

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

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

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

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, Honey.”

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

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

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

Is this it?

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

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

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

“Are you (Y/N)?”

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

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

“O-Oh.”

“May I come in?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course. Of course.”

“You need anything else?”

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

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

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

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

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

—

“Honey, I’m home!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have classes.”

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

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

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Why do we need a maid?”

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

“Ready for what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O-Okay.”

—

The next few days, the cycle continues.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. Why not?”

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

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

“Twenty.”

“That’s funny, I’m twenty one.”

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

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

“Well, I wouldn’t say cool—”

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

“Nonsense!”

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

—

“Goodnight, Honey.”

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

It was an okay night.

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

You’re happy.

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

Maki.

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

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

—

“Miss?”

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

“You got chips?”

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

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

—

“What do you think of him?”

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

“My husband.”

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

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

“I mean, he’s a man, alright.”

“What does that even mean?”

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

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

“No, no! That’s not what I—”

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

“Well, why?”

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

“Well, of course.”

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

“Cool.”

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

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

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

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

Your husband has never touched you like this. Ever.

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

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

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

“Suck.”

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

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

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

—

Two days.

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

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

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

Yet, she wouldn’t even look at you.

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

“Yes, Miss?”

“Are we going to talk about what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

“You don’t understand.”

“Try me.”

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

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

“I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Open.”

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

“Good girl.”

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

Oops.

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compassionatereminders · 3 years

Text

Dealing With Executive Dysfunction - A Summary

(The full post with elaborate explanations can be found here.)

Being a responsible adult doesn’t have to mean doing things perfectly - it means doing what you realistically can. Can’t eat 7 fresh veggies and fruits a day? Buy some veggie juice or a smoothie and chug that. Can’t make a proper, healthy meal? Add some extra protein to your instant noodles. Can’t do the dishes? Buy some paper plates. Don’t worry about doing things “the right way”, just do what works.

It’s not cheating to do something the easy way. If there’s an easy or more manageable solution available, use it. Even if some people think it’s lazy. Don’t worry about that. Just focus on finding the methods of doing things which make life easier for you.

Fuck what you’re “supposed” to do. Yes, ideally you shouldn’t run the dishwasher twice, but if cleansing the dishes by hand is not an option and that’s the only way you can get clean dishes, do it anyways! When you’re in a really bad place mentally, fuck the rules. Do what you need to do to get shit done, even if it’s not how you’re supposed to do it.

Do stuff while you’re waiting to do other stuff. We spend a lot of time waiting, so spend the time you’d normally just waste getting some chores done. Collect the trash while your roommate is in the bathroom or wipe down the kitchen counters while you’re making coffee. You can even turn it into a game! How many dishes can you clean before the potatoes are boiling? How much trash can you collect and throw out before your load of laundry is done?

You don’t have to do everything at once. Don’t wait for the day where you’re up for cleaning the entire house cause then you’ll be waiting for ages. You can wipe down one counter and call it a day. You can put away a couple things and leave the rest. You can do one small chore and let that be it. You don’t have to choose between doing everything and doing nothing. Any progress is worthwhile.

Let go of the idea that something has to become a permanent habit to have any value. Doing a certain sport for a month is still healthy even if you then move on to something else. Exploring a new hobby for a while and then moving on to other stuff will always teach you something. What’s good for you today will not necessarily be what’s good for you tomorrow.

Don’t worry about the entire task. Just focus on the first step. Don’t worry about brushing your teeth - just get your toothbrush wet and put tooth paste on it. Don’t worry about writing the essay - just look at the assignment and open a document. Don’t worry about going to the store - just put on your coat and your shoes. Starting a task is a lot easier if you only focus on the step right in front of you.

Imagine that your body is a pet/animal you have to care for. Feed and hydrate yourself, keep yourself and your environment clean, make sure you don’t get under or overstimulated, allow yourself time to rest and relax, find ways to enrich your life (like socializing, media or hobbies) - and do your best to make sure you’re healthy and happy, even though you never actually signed up for being your own zookeeper.

Just because you can’t do it perfectly doesn’t mean you should stop trying. Packing lunch a couple times a week is better than never packing lunches. Journaling or making art once a month is better than never doing anything creative. Exercising every once in a while when you have the energy is better than never exercising. You don’t have to do something every single day for it to be important and helpful.

Put on a professional persona when it’s necessary. Try to separate the anxious and dysfunctional you from the Student You who’s sending that important email or the Client You who’s making that phone call or the Customer You who isn’t afraid to ask for help. It might feel like you’re performing a role, but to be honest, most of us do at times.

When you’re doing chores, act like you’re filming a tutorial. Narrate what you’re doing like someone’s watching. That might make it easier to maintain focus and to keep track of the various steps.

You don’t have to do anything perfectly. Wiping yourself off with some baby wipes beats not doing anything about your personal hygiene. Eating a protein bar beats not eating. Using mouthwash beats neglecting dental hygiene completely. Going for a quick walk beats not moving. It doesn’t have to be perfect to count and make a difference.

Make something you know you have to do the trigger for you to start doing something else. Tell yourself “next time I get up to pee I’ll take out the trash” or “when I get up to get something to drink next I’ll make lunch.” If you HAVE to get up anyways, you might as well.

Assign yourself a deadline. Tell yourself “once this video is over, I’ll do the dishes” or “once this alarm rings, I’ll do my laundry.”

If you struggle to be compassionate towards yourself, try visualizing your future self as a separate person who you like and want to do favors for. Try to think of your future self as a friend who is separate from your current self and do what you can to make their life easier by doing things like preparing that lunch, doing those chores, taking that shower or making fun plans. I know they’ll be grateful.

Make putting stuff back where it belongs so easy that you “might as well.” Organize your home so that placing stuff where it belongs becomes so easy that you might as well just place it there. For many people that means several laundry baskets, many trash cans and easily accessible and very visible storage options. So if you keep finding things in annoying places, make sure they get an easily accessible home!

Look into why you can’t do something. Is something about the chores you’re struggling to do actually causing you sensory distress and is there something you can do to make it more comfortable? If you hate mint toothpaste, get one that tastes like bubble gum. If old food grosses you out, do the dishes with thick gloves on. If showering makes you feel bad about your body, shower with the lights off. The problem isn’t always about self discipline, and in those cases it’s worth looking into why you’re struggling so much to get certain chores done.

Take care of yourself in order to take care of others ( whether pets or people.) Outside motivation is necessary for many people who struggle with executive dysfunction. For many people getting out of bed is easier when you know someone else is relying on you being somewhat functional. So don’t be afraid to find the motivation to take care of yourself in wanting to take care of others.

Make keeping your place clean as easy as possible. Make sure there’s easy one step access to the things you need often. Make sure that the place where a thing is supposed to be is actually within reach of where you use the thing. Make sure everything has a an easily accessible place to go, even if that means several laundry baskets and several trash cans. Examine what’s messing up your place and find a home for it where you’re likely to actually place it on a regular basis.

Choose one very specific thing to work on - like the bathroom sink or the oven or your desk. If you suffer from executive dysfunction you’ll likely be distracted, but having one specific focus point you can keep returning to will mean that in between getting distracted, you can return to your chosen project and get some shit done.

When something feels overwhelming, tell yourself to “just show up” and that you “won’t have to stay the whole time if it’s horrible.” Cause odds are that once you’ve pushed past your initial mental block, you’re likely to stay and finish what you started.

If you really can’t do something, accept your limits and find a different method. Don’t keep trying to push through via willpower alone. If you need outside accountability to get your shit done, find someone who can hold you accountable. If you know you can’t remember the stuff you’re supposed to remember, make sure to always write things down. If you keep forgetting your meds, set a daily alarm. Don’t keep expecting yourself to be able to do things you always struggle with.

Make your chores into a game. Assign certain chores certain points and make a list of fun rewards you can have once you’ve earned a certain amount of points through doing chores.

If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing poorly. Any amount of effort is better than none, so on days where you can’t do something well, do it anyways! Any amount of progress beats not getting started.

Find a momentum and use it to do that thing you’ve been struggling to start doing. You can’t get yourself together to shower? Well, find something you CAN do - and once you’re already doing something, you might be able to channel said energy into showering.

Take it one step at a time. I know a shower sounds overwhelming, but can you take your clothes off? If yes, can you turn on the shower? If yes, can you stand under the stream? Look who just tricked themselves into doing the thing by breaking it down into manageable chunks!

Don’t just break a task into smaller steps - break it into steps so small you can’t possible get overwhelmed and fuck up. “Clean my room” is far too vague - but “set a timer and collect all the trash you can in 10 minutes” is actually manageable and so is “move all dirty dishes to the kitchen” or “remove and/or sort all clothes laying on the floor.”

Don’t worry about how most people do things - worry about what works for YOU. You constantly lose your key? Make ten copies. You overlook your post it notes? Put something with the important reminder on it in front of the door. Got laundry and trash all over the floor? Get more laundry baskets/trash cans. Coping with executive dysfunction is not about learning to do things the neurotypical way, it’s about finding strategies which actually work for you.

When you’re overwhelmed and struggling, find the easiest and fastest way to get rid of some of the distress. Eat if you’re hungry, sleep if you’re tired, pee if you have to, get that thing you’ve been postponing done if you can. The more stressors you can remove, the better - and it’s okay to start with the smaller ones!

Don’t worry about aesthetics. When you struggle with executive dysfunction, maintaining a picture perfect home is probably unrealistic. So drop that dream and focus on making your space practical and functional. Remove the doors of your kitchen cabinets and closets if that will actually make you put stuff away. Get a paper shredder and a mail sorting station if you got mail and advertisements everywhere. Buy all your socks in one color if you struggle to pair them. There are many ways to make your environment more functional. Explore them instead of just trying and failing to make your home look nice.

Get started on your next task before you take your break. Write that first sentence, make that first sketch, get the vacuum cleaner out of the closet or collect the dishes for washing and THEN have your break. Many people with executive dysfunction struggle to start tasks, so for most of us it’s easier to continue something we’ve already started working on than to begin from scratch.

#kat gets serious #coping #executive dysfunction #disability #mental illness #self care #recovery

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