my grandmas couch

anonymous asked:

I was giving my boyfriend a handjob on my grandmas couch and when he came, his load went up to the air and some landed on the couch so we cleaned it up and were legit scared. and then hours later, my mom sat on the couch (where he sat) and was like: why does the couch feel wet? and we both were in awkward silence with that.

Just say “I spilled water on it” think on your feet better you panicky petes

alexis12781  asked:

I love your blog and I wanted to share a bit of my childhood. I remember rain and quiet. The only other sound was the sound of a tv playing The Nanny. The only lights on are the lamps and a kitchen light over the stove. Everything is white. the rug, breakfast bar, lamp, ash tray, coffee cups. The air is stale but not bad. The old white couch and chair are covered in plastic as well as the lamps. I sit on the floor while my grandma sits on the couch. Later we go to the diner we always go to.

aaaaah i love this! i can imagine everything💕💕 thank you for sharing!

Sunday Morning

Based on this by @pammspamm ! Their art brings me so much happiness when I see it on my dash, it legit dragged me out of my unproductive writer’s block! I just discovered the blog today, though I’d seen their art before, and if you haven’t, I highly recommend checking them out! I’m pretty sure I sent an ask to them already telling them just how amazing their art was, but I figured, why not write a whole fic about it, lol. They say a picture is worth a thousand words so I wrote about a thousand in appreciation for that drawing, but it still won’t compare- I hope I don’t offend the artist with this trash lmao xD

I’m going to stop rambling now~

Thanks, @chunbunny  and @katryusha for being my betas <3


Days like these were rare.

Alfred had a lot on his plate. Pursuing further education and doing odd jobs to keep them financially stable was only some of it. He was more mature than he let on and spent most of his time working or studying during the week. 

They didn’t have time to be together as a couple. When Arthur would wake up, his boyfriend would already be out the door. Maybe if he set an alarm, he’d have time for a quick peck on the lips or a rushed breakfast, but most of the time he’d have to settle for a phone call or a loving text. 

When they’d first met, it was puppy love. The emerald-eyed realist didn’t expect them to last long. It was like a starched fairy tale for dreamers with their head stuck in the clouds. Not for someone like him.

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