#upholstered vanity stool

[flavorsims]

Bedroom Master in Los Angeles Large ornate master concrete floor and beige floor bedroom photo with beige walls and no fireplace

[verpuerto]

Sacramento Bathroom Example of a mid-sized transitional master white tile and marble tile marble floor and white floor freestanding bathtub design with white cabinets, gray walls, an undermount sink, marble countertops, a hinged shower door, white countertops and recessed-panel cabinets

[hannahlroche]

Traditional Closet in Cleveland Inspiration for a small timeless women's dark wood floor and brown floor dressing room remodel with beaded inset cabinets and white cabinets

[endless-ineffabilities]

I will never say that I am in love (18+)

{ alternate title: you are the love of my life }

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

When the one-eyed prince falls, the realisation comes to him in the scent of flowers. In his nephew's laughter. In his dreams.

themes/warnings : just pure sweetness, our emotionally constipated and repressed Aemond Targaryen, he thinks some *impure* thoughts in this one (how dare he!!!), he does NOT want to even think about falling in love (what a stupid distraction, he is not weak, you all should know) - also, he is DOWN BAD for the reader.

all my other works

a/n : this is the first fic I'm writing completely in the male lead's, in this case Aemond's perspective. Complete train-of-thought type of storytelling. (also, this is not in my scheduled works, the idea came to me after watching the new promo clips for s2... never in a million eons did I ever think I would hear Ewan Mitchell utter the word "cheugy" but oh well) - Enjoy! 🖤

{ I. flowers ▪︎ II. innocence ▪︎ III. dreams }

I.

Aemond decides that he finds pleasure in your scent.

The thought comes to him as he strolls through the halls of the Red Keep. Not a strong one, not a revelation by any means. A mere inkling of something he favours.

It is innocent. It is nothing.

He had spied some flowers peeking from just beneath a window. Roses, peonies, or some other, he did not bother to truly look. He glanced them out of the corner of his eye.

And he thought of you.

You smell something rather akin to those flowers - blooming and enticing and sweet.

A simple observation, rising to him now from his memory.

That is all.

Your scent reminds him of springtime in the gardens. You are pleasant, there is no doubt, but that very sweetness can only be construed as sickly if divulged in for far too long, too often.

Besides, his icy disposition does not really take well to flowers in the spring. They are more like to whittle under his boot, and shrivel from the coldness in his gaze.

You are not for him. No.

Flowers. Sweet things. The gentleness in your voice when you call him 'my prince'. Aemond scoffs at himself as he walks on.

It is no transgression to be distracted. It is a natural thing.

You are a distraction, and Aemond decides to think of you no more.

II.

Aemond comes to Helaena's chambers to visit with his niece and nephews. It is only by coincidence that you are almost always there too.

"Prince Aemond." Your voice resembles a song in greeting him. "Queen Helaena has just left to speak with Lady Alicent, but she should return shortly."

"Hmm." You are not a lady-in-waiting to Helaena, but more of a companion, a friend. Yet you do not mind looking after Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor when their mother is indisposed.

This is where Aemond finds you, most mornings. Were it anyone else, he might have sent them away, so that he can spend time alone with the children.

But he lets you stay, because, of course, Helaena would prefer it so. She dotes on you so dearly, Aemond has noticed.

In these instances, he lets you stay only because it is what Helaena would want. Why else?

He settles on an upholstered stool and beckons to the children. They eagerly waddle their way over to their beloved uncle.

You watch the interaction with a smile, as you always do. With your legs curled underneath you, comfortably seated on the floor a few feet in front of him.

Aemond used to pay you no mind, but increasingly it has been nagging at him that you are observing, taking him in.

It is inane to be self-conscious; there is no reason to be. He is the Prince - being perceived has been a constant all his life.

He is the Prince, and you are merely a lady companion.

But when you say things like, "They are very fortunate to have you as their uncle, my prince," it makes him feel a sense of pride. Like it is some accomplishment to be complimented by you.

He knows this. He knows he is a good uncle.

Perhaps it is just that. Vanity.

You pointing it out has nothing to do with anything.

Jaehaerys crosses the many strides it takes for him to reach you again, and he pulls at your hand.

"Come," he giggles.

"Where, sweet boy?"

"Come, come here, come here," he mumbles mostly to himself, grunting when you are unmoving and his three-year old form is unable to magically transport you as he wishes.

"Okay," you laugh once, getting on your feet with your body bent to his level, and you let him pull you to where he wants.

Which is... right next to his dearest uncle Aemond.

"There." Jaehaerys claps his hands in glee, as you curl up on the floor beside Aemond's outstretched legs.

"He has a sense of humour, that one," you grin, looking up at Aemond.

Aemond sees your expression up close and you look okay. Comely. Fine. You are not bad-looking, by any means.

You are the most beautiful lady in the court.

You are fine, just fine.

Aemond would not mind seeing your face everyday; he already sees it every night in his dreams.

And it is just fine.

"Is something the matter, my prince?"

Call him that. Do it again. Or better yet, replace prince with his name. Call him 'my Aemond'.

Aemond desires nothing more than to hear it.

Because... because he is vain. Nothing more than that. It would take a high degree of devotion for someone to utter the words 'my Aemond' to him. And who would not want to be at the end of such idolatry.

Perceive him. Worship him. Consume him.

You already consume him.

Aemond stands abruptly, and you scramble to follow suit.

"Aem... Aemond," you stammer. "I mean, forgive me... my prince, what is wrong?"

Aemond looks down. Your delicate hand is gripping his arm, the sleeve of his tunic doing nothing to mask the heat of your skin.

He is of dragon, he is of fire.

But your touch burns.

The clacking of wooden toy horses ring in the background, the children lost in their imagination.

"Nothing," Aemond clears his throat, and folds his arms behind him so your hand falls. "I am alright. I must go."

The smell of sweetness lingers in his nostrils. Your sweetness. He is growing weak.

He steps away, "I bid you farewell, my lady."

"My prince."

Call him Aemond. Call him by his name, title be damned. By the gods, call him yours.

Aemond nearly rushes out of the chambers, his gait sure and his footsteps heavy.

Tonight, in his dreams, he will finally release his foolish desires and that will be the end of it.

Behind his eyes, he will touch you and taste you and watch you crumble underneath him.

And he will be your Aemond.

That will be the climax of this passing fantasy.

III.*

Aemond has stripped down to his undergarments, supine above the silk sheets of his bed. He runs a hand over his face, and he sees you.

All the better for it, he supposes, that he gets rid of it now before it ruins him further.

It is a memory, from only one moon ago, but he sees it clear as day.

You had let your hair down that day, and it flowed freely, following the gentle breeze. Nestled in what Aemond found out to be your favourite spot in the gardens, needle and thread in your dainty fingers, you tell him that you are embroidering a veil for your dear mother.

You request for him to sit with you, and Aemond obeys.

Pleasantries are exchanged, about the weather, your duties, his training. All the while Aemond watches the contour of your lips, how it stretches back to reveal your smile when he says something that could not be the farthest from amusing, but you find it amusing anyway.

He stares you down questioningly.

You blush then, turning your focus back to your work, "Apologies, but I... I admire the way you speak, my prince. As if every word is deliberate, carefully chosen. You are intelligent, and you care what you say."

"Hmm," he said then, but now...

In his mind, he lets you know just what he wants, "Have you ever been bedded, my lady?"

You look at him in shock, of course you do. Those rosy lips part, and Aemond wonders whether your lips below possess the same shade.

In his grand chambers, Aemond lets his hand drift down, down from the planes of his stomach, to his hardened cock. He licks his lips, and imagines the softness of your own. He strokes the leaking tip with his thumb. The picture continues.

"Do you not ever wonder about the deed?" Aemond asks.

"M-my prince...I do not... I - "

"You must," he sneers. "You must, as I do, and when I do, it is you who floods my very thoughts, and consumes my very being."

"I do not know what to say."

"Say you want to kiss me."

His grip tightens, drawing down and up his cock, covering it with the milky white that has leaked from his tip. He is pained, teeth pressing down on his lower lip. He imagines your hands on him, your dress undone as you watch him come undone.

"We mustn't," you look down in shame. Your legs clench together to keep in the warmth.

"Come here, my sweetness," he leads you to sit atop him, and your work clatters to the ground.

You try to look away, try to hide just how much he is affecting you.

"Kiss me," Aemond pleads.

You comply. He slips his tongue past your lips.

Faster, wetter, he gets harder and it is unbearable. His hands are not enough, he wishes to plunge his aching member right into your soaking folds. Wishes to watch beads of his sweat fall on to you as he pounds you without mercy, his cock squelching deep inside your cunny until it is sore. If only you will ache as he does. Come as he comes.

Aemond lifts you up and the two of you end up stumbling down on the grass. He does not relent. His fingers make quick work of the strings and ribbons holding you together. Your breasts come free and he latches his mouth on one, his tongue swirling against the nipple.

"Oh Aemond!" you moan, and it is a scandal. It is everything unholy. It is every dirty thought nestled in his mind.

Soon he has you bare, your skin practically glowing under daylight. You are perfect, and you are his.

"Take me," you say, practically begging. "I want you to fill me with your cock. Fill me with your seed, my dragon prince. Please."

"My sweetness," Aemond reveals himself to you, undoing his breeches and slipping out of his tunic. How could he resist?

"Do you want me?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I want you, my prince," you affirm, squirming under him, you hips bucking up with desire, hopelessly attempting to rub your cunny against his skin.

"My Aemond," he corrects you. "Say it."

"I want you," you say, "my Aemond."

Aemond rubs his cock faster and faster, the thick green veins in his hand and arms straining angrily under his skin. He feels you, he sees you in his mind so clear. You are his, and he is your Aemond.

He plunges his cock inside you, and you are left mewling and writhing as he quickens his assault.

He groans loudly. The lewd squelching of his cock turning sloppy, hasty, mindless. A few more strokes and he comes all over himself, hot white streaks decorating his torso. His silver hair in disarray on the pillows, like a broken halo. Beads of sweat falling from his temple. His mouth parted as he whispers your name.

He gives himself a few more tugs, emptying out. You would do him so much better. Touch him so well.

In his mind, he still sees it. Fragments of his memory bleeding through his fantasies. He does not know anymore what is real and what is not.

He cleans himself up with warm cloth afterward, feeling shame at his actions.

This is enough. Now he has released you from his being. The desire he holds so closely to his chest must have dissipated along with the lewd act he just committed.

"My Aemond," you whisper from behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso.

Enough. No more of such useless musings.

"I love you, Aemond."

I love you too.

🌸🌸🌸

* In III, reality is fully italicized, and his memories + fantasies are typed as normal.

this was meant to have more sections ( IV to VII )... maybe I'll come around to it eventually.

Let me know what you think of this sort of writing from Aemond's perspective!

To be tagged in Aemond or Daemon fics, comment on this post !

[atrueneutral]

How about Haarlep wanting some action and they keep draping themself over Raphael while the cambion is trying to work, purring, "Come play with me~" but Raphael is having none of it and doesn't even look up at Haarlep when he shoves the incubus away. Then the he hears the voice of his little mouse whispering in his ear, "Master, please, I need you..." (bonus points if this is how Raphael discovers that Haarlep even has Tav's form)

Raphael was penning his first letter at the vanity when Haarlep decided they were bored.

When Raphael began to write his second letter, Haarlep decided they wanted to quell their boredom with the only activity that ever came to mind: bedroom fun. They seductively announced their intention to strip out of their harness while they were halfway out of it, and less than a handful of seconds later, Haarlep was posed on the bed with a throbbing, veined and ridged cock on display.

At the start of a third letter, Haarlep decided their hand wasn’t anywhere as fun as fucking a certain hole, so they attempted to lure their master with a wanton plea that vividly described how they should be put to use.

By the fourth letter, Haarlep decided they had had enough of their needs being ignored. They left the bed, intent on pestering until their brat caved to their whims, and sauntered over to where their mortal appearing (and too-business-minded) master was scrawling missives.

“Master, come play with me…” Haarlep purred while standing behind the ornate and velvet upholstered stool Raphael was perched on. They glided a red, clawed hand from his shoulder down his front, but it was swiftly flung aside without a breath or word of acknowledgement - Raphael’s attention was fully engrossed in the words he was writing.

This would not do!

It was an insult to be ignored for so long!

But then Haarlep’s pout slowly morphed into a fiendish smile. 

Very well - if that was how their master wanted to play, then let the brat be insulted that he was not the first to feel, taste, and fuck his latest obsession…

Oh, what a delicious treat she was, too - the little thief!

Haarlep copied the movement Raphael had just rejected, but this time - this time new hands appeared down their master’s front after a near-silent flash of red transformed their body. Raphael did not look up from the current letter, and Haarlep was quick to bring their mouth to the shell of his ear before they could be denied again.

“Master, please…” 

Raphael became still as a statue.

“I need you…”

They won the moment their master’s gaze flicked to the image reflected in the gilded vanity mirror they were positioned in front of; Raphael’s little mouse - draped upon his shoulders wearing nothing but a lascivious expression.

Their master’s eyes were an instant storm of desire… until understanding and rage converged in depths of brown.

Raphael’s face twisted with bubbling fury, and the infernal quill snapped.

“When was she here? Why was she here?”

Haarlep’s teeth gently tugged on their master’s earlobe. “Who cares? She came, which is all that matters - more than once in the very bed we should be in right now…”

Their arms fell away when Raphael forcefully stood with a snarl. He rounded on them (with a budding erection) and Haarlep let a smug smile take over their face as Raphael took the briefest moment to appreciate their newest glamor before storming out the boudoir.

Haarlep chuckled; off their master went (letters forgotten), to pay his latest obsession a rage-fueled visit…

They strolled back over to the bed and prepared themself for fun.

What was to happen if Raphael’s confrontation included an equally flustered, moaning, orgasming little mouse!

Yes…

It was time to see what made this form tick…

[PART II]

[writingjourney]

Hiiii! I was wondering if you could maybe write about copia struggling to do his makeup and asks (y/n) for help?

let me help | copia x gn!reader

Thank you for your suggestion anon, it inspired me to this little fic. It may be a bit different from what you had in mind but I hope you enjoy it anyway :) @leezlelatch here it is ♡

summary: your papa is overworked and tired, too shaky to do his own make-up, so you offer to help. content: 2.1k words, some mild hurt/comfort, established relationship

masterlist – Ao3 link

✦ ✧ ✦ 

A strong gale blew thick and heavy snowflakes against your window all night, leaving a plump white pillow on the sill that’s now covering half of the glass pane. You woke up multiple times as the wind howled in the cracks of the abbey’s old stone walls like a wolf calling to the moon, only ceasing in the early hours of the morning. As you get ready for the day now, the sky has cleared up and the soft glow of a rising sun paints your quarters in warm hues of orange. You lift your hand and let the warm rays of sunshine dance over your fingers.

It’s all quiet at this time of day and you’re sitting on your shared bed, pulling on some warm socks while Copia does his make-up. He’s perched on a wide, upholstered stool in front of the vanity he got when you moved in with him. Anything so he wouldn’t occupy the bathroom all morning, so he can share some more time with you while getting ready. 

The sunlight hits the back of his head, his hair still tousled and sticking up at odd angles. You love observing him as he gets ready. While clumsy at first the process of painting his face has now gone over into muscle memory and watching his nimble fingers get to work each morning is a sight to behold. His brow is always furrowed in concentration, deepening the adorable wrinkles on his forehead as he draws precise black lines onto his features. His lips stay tightly pressed together through the whole process right until he finally has to relaxe them to apply his lipstick. 

It’s the same procedure every single morning.

Well, except for today.

“Ahhhh, cazzo.” 

His sudden curse makes you look up and you catch him furiously scrubbing at his cheek, almost violently wiping away some of his black paint. A blotchy gray rim remains around the red patch of skin he just rubbed raw.

“What is it, my love?” you ask, worried he’s going to seriously hurt himself.

Copia sighs in defeat, setting down the black paint in frustration only to stare at it in mild disgust. You observe him over the mirror but he doesn’t look up at you, a heavy air of sadness hanging over him.

“Ugh… I feel a little shaky today,” he finally says, staring at his trembling hand. “I cannot get it right.”

You’re aware Copia has dealt with a rough few days – sleeping restlessly, feeling unwell from all the stress, skipping meals in order to get more work done. It’s hardly surprising that he’s shaking, already overworked and worn out with another long day looming ahead of him.

You scoot off the bed and make your way over to your exhausted Papa. His eyes find yours in the mirror as you approach, and he makes space for you on the stool. It’s a tight fit but you sit down sideways, facing Copia instead of the mirror.

“What are you doing?” he asks as you take his hands in yours.

“Helping.” You bring them to your mouth, gently kissing each individual knuckle. You can feel his tremor, feel his tension against your lips. He slowly eases up as you continue to kiss him, running your thumbs over the backs of his hands. Copia sighs softly and when you look up, he’s smiling weakly at you and you already know what he’s going to ask next.

“Amore… how do I even deserve you?”

“You deserve all my love, don’t you ever question that.“ You give him a playfully stern look, followed by a pout, and his cheeks turn all rosy. “Now let me do your make-up.” 

“You– you want to–“

“I’ve seen you do it a hundred times. I think I should be capable by now.”

“That’s not…” He swallows, softly shaking his head. “Not what I meant.”

His tone is enough to tell you exactly what he did mean. Do you really want to do this for me? Painting my face, something you’ve never done before, to help me when I feel so vulnerable right now?

“Yes, I want to.” You let go of his hands to reach out for his face, slowly rubbing your thumbs over his cheeks. “My love, I know I cannot shoulder your burdens, I cannot paint my face and be Papa for you, but I can try to give you as much love and support and care as I can. And if that means packing you lunch to make sure you eat, rubbing your back when it’s sore from sitting all day, popping in to help you with paperwork or even doing your make-up because you’re too worked up over the day ahead, I will happily do it.”

His eyes close and he takes a deep breath, smiling as a single tear rolls down his cheek. “I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much, amore. You are my everything.”

It pains you to see him like this, so bone-tired, so defeated, really. He is your everything too and to admit that you can’t simply make all of this go away hurts. You lean in to kiss away the tear, add a few more kisses to his cheeks for good measure and an especially soft one to his lips. “I love you, too, Copia. More than you can imagine.”

You break away and he opens his eyes, huffing out a slightly embarrassed laugh. “Uhm, yes… so… should we start?”

“Mhm.” You reach for the white paint and decide to fix the spot he had been rubbing raw earlier. The redness is mostly gone but you’re still careful as you apply the face paint with a beauty blender. At first Copia watches you, still with that hint of disbelief in his eyes that you’re actually willing to do this for him, but then he slowly closes them and relaxes into your gentle care. Once his whole face is covered in an even shade of white, you pick up the black paint again. You find a brush and dip it in, trying to get a feeling for how much you need.

“Do you… uh…” Copia looks around, probably searching for his phone. “If you need a picture, for reference…”

“No, I don’t think so.” You chuckle, reaching for his chin to make him look at you. “I’ve been staring at your handsome face so many times, I’m sure I could do it in my sleep. Just relax, amore, I will get it right, I promise.”

“I know you will,” he immediately says, ears turning red at the use of his pet name. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to doubt you, tesoro. It’s just…”

“I know, it’s okay. Just relax, please.” You give him a genuine smile, raising your eyebrows until he finally returns it. Of course it seems a little forced, he’s still anxious, still tired, but it’s better than nothing. He takes a deep breath and finally relaxes his features, allowing you to start with the black paint.

It takes you a while to get his whole face done since you’re trying to be as careful as possible. Admittedly, you’re a little shaky too, but with the help of the brush and working very slowly, you get the lines straight anyway. Copia tries very hard not to flinch or move his face, but he does blink a few times as you draw the lines around his eyes. You’re doing his eyelids when he blinks yet again, the timing unfortunate as his lashes hit the brush and some of the paint gets into his white eye. He hisses and tears up immediately, squinting hard in pain.

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry,” you mumble, pulling away as fast as you can.

He raises a hand to your arm, the hurt eye still tightly screwed up. “Don’t, please, it happens.” 

Copia hands you a tissue and you gently dab at the tears before they mess up the rest of his make-up, waiting until his eye stops leaking. An agonising minute later he manages to keep it open, the white iris surrounded by a now very red sclera. It looks worse than it probably is but it still scares you and you take a few deep breaths before you decide to continue with your finger instead of the offending brush.

“Is it okay now?” you ask.

“It is. Thank you,” Copia whispers. “You’re doing so well, amorino. Don’t worry about it.”

You smile at his praise, though you’re not sure if he’s being quite truthful about the pain. Nevertheless, you apply the rest of the paint, even more cautiously now, until it’s almost done and only the lips are left.

It’s not the first time you see his whole face covered in make-up with only his lips bare, it’s basically a slightly cleaner version of what he looks like after a good make-out session – once all of his lipstick has transferred to your face. And he does have very beautiful lips, so plump and pink and practically begging to be kissed. They always feel so soft against yours and when he’s gentle–

Copia must see you staring at them because his fingers find your chin, slowly lifting your gaze until your eyes meet and he smirks. “Are you distracted, tesorino?”

You fight a smile. “What if I am, Papa? Are you going to fire me?”

“Oh, I could never do this, no.” He smirks knowingly. “Your Papa enjoys having all of your attention way too much, amore.”

That’s enough to make you close the gap and finally kiss him. He smiles into it and before you can pull away, his hands find your cheeks, keeping you exactly where you are. His fingers gently move into your hair, tilting your head up before he deepens the kiss. You sink against him with a sigh, hoping this won’t do too much damage to his paint. But that thought is forgotten as soon you feel his teeth grazing your bottom lip, asking for more. You let him kiss you breathless as you taste the remnants of minty toothpaste on his tongue and it’s enough to make you crave him so badly. But he’s tired enough already, you can feel him losing his energy as the kiss gets more sluggish and he takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“Promise me to take it easy today,” you whisper against his mouth. “I’m so worried about you, Copia.”

He lets out a sigh, the exhale ghosting over your tender lips before he whispers back. “Ti voglio tanto bene. For you I promise anything, anything. I try my best to get home early tonight, sì? We can continue this without hurry.”

“Yes, please.” You smile, running your thumb along his jawline. “And I love you too. Don’t you ever forget that.”

“How could I? Whenever I look in a mirror today I will be reminded, eh?” He presses a wet kiss to your cheek before he pulls away. “Now, I think I’m already late.”

He’s right, you’ve taken way too long. So, you reach for the black lipstick and carefully follow the curves of his still kiss-swollen mouth, trying to ignore the tingling sensation in your belly. You blot his lips with a tissue after you’re done and fix some of the white paint your kiss messed up again. Once you’re done, he looks just like always. The only difference is the warm, affectionate smile that now graces his features, the twinkle in his eyes that belongs to you and only you.

“Thank you, amore,” he says, inspecting himself in the mirror. “È veramente perfetto. You did so well. I want to kiss you again so bad, but I would ruin it.”

Instead, he blows you a bunch of kisses and you giggle as you pretend to catch them. Copia gives you the first enthusiastic smile you’ve seen on him all day and it doesn’t leave his face as he combs his hair back, smoothes out his black dress shirt and tugs at the sleeves.

Then he suddenly jumps up, raising his hands. “Tada!” He does a little spin, almost stumbling over the leg of the stool. “How do I look, eh? Tell your Papa what you think. Be honest.” 

“You look bellissimo!” you say, clapping your hands as you grin at him. “The most handsome Papa to ever grace these halls.”

“Ha! And it’s all thanks to my very talented amore. I am so lucky, molto molto fortunato!”

You stand up as well, let him pull you into a tight embrace. He’s solid and his arms feel strong as they squeeze you to his body. He’s not quite recovered, and you know it will take more time, will take you a lot of convincing to get Sister to reduce his workload, but you can tell he’s feeling better for now.

And that’s what truly matters.

thanks for reading :) if you want more comfort fics check out this fic, this fic or this fic hehe ♡

[theloveinc]

imagine no quirk free loader touya getting ready in ur cute little bedroom sitting at ur vanity.. yeah 🫶🏾

It's sweet because nothing in your room looks like anything that would suit him, nor like anything he'd enjoy being surrounded by. White sheets, satin pillows, bright lamps to illuminate every corner... aside from not really liking to look at himself under such unforgiving lights (meaning his scars are visible and the pores of his skin, open), the aesthetic itself is just all wrong.

Everything about Dabi is... hard, and dark; he's always dressed in leather and canvas, stiff, workers' materials and dirty shoes meant to last (unlike your more delicate garments, needing to be washed on delicate, under cold, and then air-dryed to top it all off)

Yet, he doesn't seemed bothered by the white marble of your vanity, nor sitting on your pale pink, velour-upholstered stool. He's grumpy and kicks up a fuss about waiting for you to get dressed, but he's surprisingly not... impatient, at least, not impatient enough to actually stop waiting for you.

(He entertains himself mostly by making faces at himself in the mirror: sticking out his tongue, pulling down his eyes, pushing up his nose trying to get your attention ... and he purs like a cat when it works and you come over to brush his eyebrows with your little makeup spoolies or coat his waterline with dark, liquid eyeliner, maybe even get your lipgloss all over his lips when you kiss him... which he licks off and is surprised it's sweet.

you tell him it's blueberry flavor for your favorite blueberry boy and he can't stop himself from grinning like a little boy)

Yes, your friends definitely poke a little bit of fun at you for your broke boyfriend; Dabi picks you up from your brunch date with them and embarrassingly eats up everyone's leftovers before they have a chance to ask for a box ... but you honestly think (aside from the way he finished your best friend's mimosa and licked the runny egg off another's plate) he's actually not half bad <3

[marrowfrog00]

Less Perfect [s.h.]

summary: Fem reader has it out with her imperfect, adulterous cad of a man Steve Harrington - but there is always more than meets the eye, no?

cw: 18+ mdni; implied/allusions to smut but no actual smut takes place, discussions of cheating, angst, toxic partner dynamics, arguing, name-calling, mentions of shitty parents, trauma, role-play, aftercare, anxiety, jealousy, hurt/comfort, use of perjorative "skank", use of petnames (sarcastic & sincere), home-grown therapy, kinda, very dialogue heavy, kitchen sink drama, fluff disguised as angst, really it's so fuckin' soft, lmk if I missed anything

wc: 2.7k

A/N: I honestly don't know what this is, my brain just burped her out and she's weird as shit. Please be nice, she's just a baby (and I'm just a three-legged orange cat with an internet connection). Reiterating that this is very dialogue heavy so if that's not your thing, carry on your merry way.

The metal tips of your stilettos clacked against the lacquered floors of the hallway as you speed walked, passing expensive wall-to-wall oil paintings and accent tables topped with vases full of immaculate flowers.

Alabaster sprays of hydrangeas (white, always white, so as not to clash with the surroundings) and dahlias mocked you from crystal vases as you stomped angrily toward the main bedroom, Steve hot on your tail.

"Don't walk away from me, pumpkin," he spat from behind you.

You guffawed as you stormed into the bedroom, making to slam the heavy mahogany door in his face. Steve was quick, though. An ex-athlete, afterall. He stopped the door with his hand and sneered, yes, sneered at you.

"Piss off, darling," you barked, turning your back to him.

You clopped heavily to the vanity and removed your earrings, chucking them carelessly onto the table. You opened the drawer and pawed through the contents looking for makeup wipes, plonking down onto the plush upholstered stool.

Steve glared at you and you could swear you heard his teeth grinding from where you sat. Commit, commit. Where the hell were those fucking wipes?

"You're goddamn unbelievable, you know that?"

"Me?" you shot back , voice laced with disbelief.

Steve cocked his hip and put his hand there. "Yeah, you. Ya see anyone else in this room?" he asked, gesturing around the swank sleeping quarters. Impeccable color story, not a speck of dust to be found in the place.

You stood from the stool, slowly, like a big cat ready to strike down her prey. Your gaze was mean and piercing as you stalked forward on high-heeled feet. You watched Steve take half a step back, mentally high-fiving yourself. This was good, this was forward motion.

Your voice dripped with rancorous sarcasm when you replied, "Well, gee, I dunno, darling. You could have been speaking to whichever one of your office skanks has your dick mesmerized this week."

Steve dropped his hand to his side, straightening his spine.

You pursed your lips and rolled your eyes to the ceiling, pretending to conjure a name. "Dana? Diane? Kimberly? Kathy?"

"Come off it," Steve gritted out, fists balling at his sides. His eyes, those gorgeous, unreal russet eyes that had captured your heart once upon a time narrowed on you. "You can act like a crazy bitch in public or in my fucking house. Pick one."

You couldn't help but laugh at him, shaking your head incredulously.

"You're not even going to deny it this time?" you asked, crossing your arms. "You used to give me the false courtesy of sparing my feelings, but I guess I've run out of favors from you."

You watched Steve's shoulders locked up as his face twitched ever so slightly. His eyes glazed over a little, like he'd gone somewhere else. Shit. Reset.

You swallowed harshly and busied yourself, smoothing the front of your dress as you kept one eye on his face, waiting.

Steve shook his head quickly like he was shaking off his very thoughts as he swaggered closer to you, invading your space and looking down his nose. Down at your face. Your pretty, soft face.

He remembered the first time he ever got a look at you up close, your eyes looked sparkly and he'd had the insane urge to bite your cheek. Right now, your eyes were dull with uncertainty and your biteable cheeks were slack under your frown.

He felt his heart kick up as he choked out his next words. "You wanna talk about favors, huh?" He cleared his throat, willing his voice to come out thicker, with more bravado. "Let's talk about how you like to act like everything you do for me is a favor. How every fuck, every blow job, every time you stoop so low as to look my way anymore is a favor as far as your concerned."

Adrenaline started washing over your body as you fought to stay in the moment. You could see the regret in his eyes and you wondered if you were careening toward scorched earth territory. You futzed with your shaking hands, unable to decide what to do with them before you crammed them under your armpits to still them.

You glanced at Steve's chest, clocking his quickened breathing. You could see how upset he was, feeling the intensity radiating off him where he stood just inches away. It was time to change course, to shock him out of the frenzy he was working himself into.

You glanced at the enormous four poster bed, festooned with a silky cream duvet and rich red throw pillows when an idea struck you. You looked back up at him, pinned under his expectant gaze. He was grinding his teeth.

"Did you fuck them in our bed?"

Steve was taken aback. He glanced between you and that stupid, giant bed - a varitable chasm, a luxurious, oversized token of a failed union. He was struck dumb, scarcely comprehending the question.

"Huh?"

To say you had gone off-script would be an understatement. Not that there was a script as such, but the story beats tended to be locked in everytime.

You took a deep breath and squared your shoulders, a renewed sense of purpose taking you over. "Your office skanks. The ones you've been generously donating your dick to. Did you fuck them in our bed?" you asked again, enunciating your words.

Steve blinked at you with wide eyes. "The hell kinda question is that, pumpkin?"

You softened your gaze on him and grazed his perfect jaw with your finger before stalking over to the bed. Steve watched as you gripped one of the bed posts and placed a hand on your hip. You looked like a showroom model, drawing his attention to where you stood.

Steve felt the gnawing in his stomach that had been building subside a little as he took you in. You looked so classy, so pretty, so sexy in that satin dress, in those black stockings. Your hair, which had been styled to perfection for tonight had gone a little flat, a tiny bit of mascara flaking under one eye.

He liked you best like this. The veneer of flawlessness cracked just enough to let him in. A little less perfect.

Your gaze was still soft and open and he gestured for you to continue. Satisfied, you lifted your chin and flexed your jaw.

"Did you fuck them in our bed, darling? I deserve to know."

You sat primly on the tufted bench at the foot of the bed, legs crossed, hands planted on either side of you.

Steve gulped, feeling the ice returning to his veins but he knew he needed to press on. This was the sweet spot. He ignored the noodly feeling in his legs, strutting over to where you sat and plopped down next to you.

He looked in your eyes. "Yes."

"All of them?" you asked softly.

Steve couldn't stop the tears building as he forced himself to keep looking at you, a spectral sense of shame that he had never picked up but that he nevertheless carried searing his neck and cheeks.

"Just Dana. Er, Diane? A-and, Kimberly," he stuttered.

You couldn't help yourself then, giving his pinky finger a little tickle with your own and you felt your own tears building. Seeing him cry always got to you a little, but you were getting better about it. You kept your face steely as you quickly wiped them away and you sniffed.

"Did they let you fuck them in the ass?"

"Everytime."

"And that's why you did it? To get back at me because I wouldn't let you have my ass?"

"Partly," he whispered back, thickly.

You blinked back more tears and cleared your throat. "What's the other part?"

Steve flinched as he propped his elbows on his knees, fixing his eyes on the ground. He gripped his hair meanly between his fingers. His voice was thick and strained with emotion, but the words flowed easily then.

"The other part is that I'm a shallow, hollow, status-obsessed creep that cares more about pretty, shiny new things...and more about my empty family legacy than I do about my family."

You kept your hands in your lap even though you ached to reach out and touch him, to pull him back to you. Instead, you sniffled softly so as not to disturb the man beside you as he continued.

"Even when I'm home, I'm somewhere else. I should have stayed alone since that's clearly what I wanted all along. Spendy liquor and cheap lays."

You pressed your nails into your palm, worried about how still he was, still itching to touch him. You didn't. You listened to his voice become thinner, straining through stifled sobs.

"But instead I found you and snatched you away from whatever life you could have had instead. I married you and broke you and put your pieces in a little box. And you just took it and I think part of me hates you for that. And I punish you for it. I punish everyone for it."

He sobbed then, shoulders slumping. You bit your lip and tapped your foot, jonesing to touch him.

Steve scrubbed his tears away and violently inhaled the snot back into his sinuses. He watched the pointy toe of your heel tap tap tap on the ground.

The dam had broken again after how many times of this and he was wrung out. Done. There was a finality to this, he felt. Like this might have pushed him over that finish line that he'd been seeking for so long.

"Fuck..babe..fu-pomegranate," he whimpered.

"Pomegranate?" you repeated back in a tiny voice.

"Pomegranate."

You stood abruptly and walked between his spread thighs. His eyes were pinched shut as he tried to call back the tears that left angry, red rivulets down his cheeks.

You gently raked your fingers through his hair, straightening it gently, lovingly. "Can you look at me, baby?"

He sniffled again and shook his head abruptly. "In a minute. S'too much right now. But hold me, please, honey?"

You pulled him into you, cradling his head to your chest and stroking his back while he clung to your waist. After a moment you pressed your mouth to the crown of his head.

"Let's breathe now."

"M'okay," he said in a little voice, clearly not wanting to loosen his grip on you.

"No, love. Remember? We said," you chastised gently. "It's important. Just a few."

You led him through a handful of deep breaths, never ceasing your loving hold on him, peppering your counting with praise for him.

Slowly, Steve stood and hooked his arms around yours pinning them to your sides. You pushed your hands into back pockets of his slacks as he finally looked at you. You propped your chin on his chest and gazed back, a soft smile making it's way on both your faces.

"Hi," he whispered down at you.

"Hi," you returned. "We good?"

In spite of how exhausted he was, he wore a grin of what almost looked like elation as he nodded at you. The life had returned to his eyes, red though they were.

"Thank you, honey," he breathed gratefully as he rocked you.

You kissed his chest. "You don't need to thank me."

He tilted your chin up to meet your eyes again. "No, I really, really do. I feel kind of greedy sometimes. Asking you for this."

You cocked your head at him and shook your head lightly, willing him to understand how serious you were when you told him, "It's for us, love. I'd rather do this with you then have you carry all this with you for years and then-"

You didn't care to finish that thought. You didn't like to think about what you'd once worried would happen. That you and this man, the love of your life, would have to sit on a festering boil of his pain until it exploded one day, tossing you so far away from one another that you would never make it back into each other's arms.

Maybe from the outside these little exercises would have appeared weird or fucked up. But when Steve had confided his fears in Robin and she suggested role-play after watching an episode of Donahue, he thought screw it. He'd rather try that than do nothing and watch you slip away from him. Plus he knew that you wouldn't make him feel bad for asking. And wouldn't you know it, you heartily agreed.

You adored him for his sincerity, for being so vulnerable in asking you. You'd started out very mild, very slow. Sitting through tense dinner scenarios at first. Then graduating to little arguments in the car. Always structured, always negotiated beforehand.

When Steve's parents asked him to housesit while they jetted off again, he brought this idea to you. The pièce de résistance. Acting out a big blowout, an opera of hurt feelings inside the very walls where all his worst fears had spawned.

And it appeared now that your joint commitment (and the risk you'd taken going off-script and escalating the storyline) had paid off. The relief was palpable for you both.

Steve glanced around the room and made a noise of disgust. "Let's get out of here, honey."

You took his hand and you two started strolling leisurely toward the exit. You swung your linked hands, Steve passively taking in the features and layout of the house one more time for posterity.

You were both beyond ready to return to the little two-bedroom apartment you both shared with Robin on the other side of town. Sometimes it was drafty, it was always a little cramped, it was entirely furnished with second-hand stuff, mismatched tchotchkes and relics from three mismatched childhoods. There was a yellow stain in the shape of Rhode Island over the fridge. Oh, and the shower faucet handle was broken off, so you had to use a wrench to turn it on. You two couldn't wait to get back there.

"How mad do you think Moth is gonna be that we've been gone for three days?" you asked, pressing your nose into Steve's bicep as he locked the front door to Harrington Penitentiary. He glanced down at the key in his hand and chucked it carelessly into a flower bed.

Steve snickered at your question, grasping your hand again as you walked to the car. He opened the passenger door for you, lovingly protecting your head with one hand as you ducked into your seat.

"I think we should prepare for the possibility that he's officially Robin's cat now and we've been demoted to godparent status."

You grinned and giggled through closed lips, your cheeks full and glowing with the force of it. Steve couldn't help himself. He ducked down and delighted in the shriek you let out when he gave your cheek a little love bite before tucking your legs in and shutting your door for you.

When he was in the driver's seat, he paused, key at the ignition. You rolled your head against the headrest to look at him.

"Know what I wanna do when we get home?" he mused, looking up to meet your eye.

Your eyes sparkled at him, a placid smile on your pretty mouth, which he returned. "Hm?"

"I wanna get you out of that dress and eat you out. Those shoes stay on for that part," he said, eyes flicking to your feet. He reached over and caressed your face with his thumb as you softened into his touch. "Then I wanna hold you real close and make love." He brushed some flaky mascara away from your eye. "After that I'll put you in that goofy, giant shirt you love sleeping in..."

You rolled your eyes but smiled. "It's not goofy," you muttered in faux-offense.

Steve grinned wryly. "It's got a picture of a cactus with sunglasses and a cowboy hat and I'm pretty sure you completely disappeared inside of it one night." You giggled again.

Steve's face smile softened. "And then we'll go to sleep. And, in like a year, I wanna ask you to marry me - properly, I mean- and I want you to say yes."

Your eyes didn't leave his as you grabbed his hand and pressed sweet kisses into each of his knuckles.

"Yes, baby. Yes to all of it."

"Good."

"Good."

You swapped rounds of deep kisses and whispered I love you's before Steve drove you home.

[agirlgonerogue]

My daddy, your daddy

When we first met, Fred reminded me of the fathers of the girls I grew up with.

He was accomplished, distant, obnoxious. Entitled. He made sure his family was comfortable financially and used that as an excuse for his absence and infidelity. He attended therapy three times a week—individual, family, and couples—but never seemed to learn anything. He had an excuse for everything and regard for nothing. His favorite activities were fucking, eating and drinking. No matter where we ended the night, the bartenders knew his name. He craved attention and delighted in aggression. 

Our relationship was a true affair, complete with heated disagreements and weekend visits to his hometown when his wife went way. On my first visit, Fred gave me a tour of the house. They had an indoor/outdoor pool, a picture window in the kitchen, and a stable of horses out back. There was a shoe rack in the foyer and a stack of rifled-through mail on the dining room table. The mudroom was just shy of chaotic and the back door whined when you opened it. We’d spent thousands of hours in stadium suites, first class seats and luxury hotels, but his kitchen trash smelled just like mine.

The house was big and white, colonial-style with a horseshoe driveway and purple flowers lining the road. It had spaces for sleeping, for entertaining, for living, and for hiding. Each wing gave the family distance from each other, and on that first visit, he held my hand and led me through them all.

His daughter’s wing was decorated in whites and pinks and lace. His son’s had a lock on it. I saw his daughter on campus once. She was blonde, and beautiful, and just as fucked up as I was. Her father paid my rent with the same checkbook he used to pay hers, but only one of us had seen the other’s room. When Fred opened her door and stepped in, I stood at his side and felt nothing. No guilt, no disgust, no thrill.

In the bedroom they shared, Fred’s wife had a closet that was bigger than my living room. There were walls of bags, shoes and shelves. An empty bottle of champagne sat in the far corner. The closet, which more closely resembled a boutique lounge, was filled with stacks of orange and blue boxes. He apologized to us both that way: with surprise visits to high end shops and designer jewelry in metals we didn’t wear. Inclining his head forward, he directed me towards an upholstered stool that sank gracefully when I dropped into it. With her vanity at my front, and her husband at my back, I wondered if his apologies satisfied her. They were enough for me, but I didn’t have to live with him. He couldn’t hurt me like he did her because he’d never been mine. He’d never promised to be, and I’d never wanted him to be.

Fred fulfilled every stereotype of a trick, but he drew the line at fucking his mistress in the house he shared with his wife and children. He invited me over a few times while we were together, but never for more than a day or two. We never had sex in his home, but we made meals together and danced around one another in the kitchen with familiarity. I used to think that he was hung up on the sex, but maybe it was just the only line he hadn’t crossed yet. Maybe it gave him hope that he could still be a good husband, good father, a good man. 

He stroked the back of my arm as our steaks rested on the cutting board and I thought to myself that there are intimacies that run far deeper than orgasming together. His boundary was too little, too late. We were already tangled up in each other.

[avierysims]

20 culpepper chic reno | avierysims

hi so i built a shitty apartment with way too much CC in it but it's on the gallery if anyone wants to use it. i don't really have the energy to find the links to every single item i used so i listed them :( gallery id - dynastiana | office

pierisim - the office desk thekalino - ficus lyrata plant pralinesims - flocati 2 rug marvell-world - marlon paintings harrie - brownstone collection wallpaper felicandre x harrie - livin' rum danish shelf 1 simcredible - vienna tripod vase 1 pierisim - mcm extravaganza wig collection harrie - shop the look david bust syb - clarrise flower vase harrie - octave modern double door

| kitchen

harrie - octave bookshelf harrie - brownstone collection (fridge, island, hob, counters) felixandre - paris cabinets littbowbub - home barista severinka - bottle fridge stand simcredible - enigma vase harrie - parquet flooring simcredible - keep life simple kitchen dish washer

| dining area

myshunosun - gale dining chair syb - laundry lemon tree syb - annie bouquet felixandre - florence fontana painting harrie - brownstone sofa felixandre - colonial foot stool pierisim - tidying up flowers

| living room

felixandre - paris sofa pierisim - livingroom minikit coffee table felixandre x harrie - livin' rum tray, simsung frame tv, 3d leaning artwork and rocking chair harrie - shop the look decorative candle tray simcredible - vienna plant large 2

| bedroom

rubyred_crescent - upholstered bed frame pierisim - mcm double bedding myshunosun - lullaby end table sixamcc - hotel lamp peacemaker_ic - myra's living origami chair sixamcc - lux marble vanity felixandre x harrie - harluxe vanity stool peacemaker_ic - cutout dresser simcredible - keep life simple plant syb - nothing to wear clutch bag marvell-world - marlon box sixamcc - suitcase severinka - dayana livingroom wall mirror pierisim - mcm curtains store medium

| bathroom

platnumluxesims - luxe bathroom counter (left single and right) peacemaker_ic - toilet roll holder sixamcc - marble lux bathtub felixandre x harrie - bafroom wall shower platnumluxesims - stone paving floor

[chronically--coastal]

The Dressing Table - Your Bedrooms New Sensation

The Dressing table is a type of furniture that has been utilized for a long time and is as yet acquiring popularity over the long haul. While picking one, it is vital to select the design as indicated by your bedroom stylistic layout and one which gives click here to learn more you a considerable measure of use. One thing that ought to always be recalled is that the table is particularly designed to make your bedroom look beautiful and you should cautiously inspect it prior to buying one. With its mirror and table set, it will give you an outwardly engaging look to your bedroom.

There are some focuses to be considered prior to buying a dressing table:

Area The main inquiry that emerges while buying it is where you will introduce in your home. Since this furniture is adaptable, you can put it in your bedroom or a different dressing room. It is fitting to put the table where you invest energy comfortably preparing prior to going out. Never forget that a dressing table is a tomfoolery and sumptuous piece of furniture where you can spoil yourself. Thus, it is suggested that you pick a spot which isn't just effectively open yet additionally give a feeling of wonderfulness to your room.

Dressing Table Things With the addition of a dressing table, besides the fact that you get a spot to keep all your vanity things, however you will likewise get an additional room for every one of the vanities that you plan to buy from here on out. This piece of furniture is energizing to the point that you will always find it enticing to buy new accessories and store it where you can undoubtedly get to them. So it is vital to observe the type of table set you are buying. Consider the style of the table and the quantity of drawers or cabinets it has.

Dressing Table Set Some tables accompany the traditional matching mirror and stools for sitting, while some others accompany carpets, stools and many different accessories to add to the style of the furniture. You might get great arrangements on multi piece dressing table sets, but you want to chase around and think about the prices. At the point when you are choosing what to be incorporated, give an idea to the space imperatives however remember individual comfort. The table will be a unique spot for dressing up and make you feel comfortable. Assuming you think that you would feel more relaxed in an upholstered dressing chair, let it all out. Ideally, you will utilize the table set and the furniture will pay off.

[anonofseasons]

What did Sophronia's room look like when she lived with her parents?

Her room goes through a transformation, so she has two different ones while living with her parents! I'll start with itty bitty Sophie's room. Sophronia's tiny bedroom was quite simple and small (10x8 ft kind of tiny), because her parents had a small cottage. Back then, Graham made her a single bed in simple white with little purple crocuses painted on the headboard and baseboard. Most of her blankets were cream, white, or various light to medium shades of purple. She had a wardrobe and a tiny table instead of a nightstand, all of them matching the style and paint of her bed. Sophie had a chest of toys in the main living space, full of plushies and wooden blocks mainly, but she had a single doll that was a very expensive commission for one of her birthdays. Viv made it an entire wardrobe at Sophie's request, and she allotted an entire drawer in her wardrobe to its clothing. When they started to expand on the house, Sophie was still under the age of ten, but she remained in that same small room until about twelve. She upgraded to a larger room (right across from Viv and Graham's current bedroom) and remained there until she moved out. She loves fashion. She kept her wardrobe, her bed, and her small table, but she also begged Graham to make her a vanity with a little stool. It was painted to match the rest, the seat of the stool upholstered in dark purple velvet. She had a big cream and beige square rug with lavender flowers on it. It had a symmetrical pattern on it. She had a large painting of snow-capped mountains above her bed, complete with an aurora in the sky. She loves jewelry and has since she was younger, but she didn't own much of it. Graham made her some bracelets, and Vivian occasionally bought her a jeweled necklaces. Graham made her a huge jewelry box. It was one of the few items--along with its contents--that she took with her when she left. She still has it. Before anyone asks about Shannon's room, I recommend waiting that one out until more chapters have released. ...Although I could probably talk about his office and sleeping chambers at the university without spoiling too much. Haha.

[kanabahome1]

Elevate Your Space with These Bedroom Furniture Design Ideas 

Creating a stylish and comfortable bedroom is essential for a good night's sleep and a relaxing environment. With the right bedroom furniture, you can transform your space into a haven of tranquility and style. In this article, we explore various bedroom furniture design ideas to help you elevate your space. 

Understanding the Basics of Bedroom Furniture 

When selecting bedroom furniture, it's important to consider both functionality and aesthetics. The key pieces of furniture in any bedroom include the bed, nightstands, dressers, and wardrobes. Each piece should complement the overall design theme of your room while providing the necessary storage and functionality. 

Choosing the Right Bed 

The bed is the focal point of any bedroom. Choosing the right bed involves considering the size, style, and material. For a modern look, consider a platform bed with clean lines and minimalistic design. Upholstered beds add a touch of luxury and comfort, while wooden beds bring a classic and timeless appeal to the room. Don't forget to choose a comfortable mattress that supports your sleeping posture. 

Nightstands: Functionality Meets Style 

Nightstands are essential for keeping your bedtime essentials within reach. When selecting nightstands, consider the height and storage options. Matching nightstands can create a cohesive look, while mismatched ones add a touch of eclectic charm. Opt for nightstands with drawers to keep clutter at bay, and choose materials that complement your bed frame. 

Dressers: Storage and Elegance 

A dresser provides essential storage for clothing and accessories. When choosing a dresser, consider the available space and your storage needs. Tall dressers are ideal for smaller bedrooms, while wide dressers with mirrors can make the room appear larger. For a cohesive look, match the dresser style with your bed and other furniture pieces. 

Wardrobes: Maximizing Storage 

Wardrobes are crucial for storing clothes, shoes, and other items. Built-in wardrobes offer a sleek and seamless look, while freestanding wardrobes provide flexibility in arrangement. Consider wardrobes with sliding doors to save space, and opt for designs with multiple compartments and hanging options for better organization. 

Bedroom Benches: Adding a Touch of Luxury 

A bedroom bench at the foot of the bed adds a touch of luxury and provides additional seating or storage. Choose a bench with upholstered seating for comfort, and consider ones with built-in storage for added functionality. The bench style should complement the overall bedroom decor. 

Accent Chairs: Creating a Cozy Corner 

An accent chair in the bedroom can create a cozy reading nook or a stylish corner. Choose a chair with a design that complements your bedroom theme. Upholstered chairs with plush cushions provide comfort, while wooden chairs with intricate designs add a touch of elegance. Place a small side table next to the chair for added convenience. 

Vanity Tables: A Functional Beauty Spot 

A vanity table is a practical and stylish addition to any bedroom. It provides a dedicated space for grooming and storing beauty products. Choose a vanity table with ample storage and a comfortable stool. A mirror with adjustable lighting can enhance the functionality of the vanity area. 

Storage Solutions: Keeping Clutter at Bay 

Efficient storage solutions are key to maintaining a tidy and organized bedroom. Consider under-bed storage options, such as drawers or bins, for storing off-season clothing or extra linens. Floating shelves and wall-mounted storage units can save floor space and keep your essentials within reach. 

Lighting: Setting the Mood 

Lighting plays a crucial role in bedroom design. Choose a mix of ambient, task, and accent lighting to create a balanced and inviting atmosphere. Bedside lamps with adjustable brightness are perfect for reading, while pendant lights or chandeliers can add a touch of elegance to the room. Don't forget to incorporate natural light by using sheer curtains or blinds. 

Personal Touches: Making It Your Own 

Personalize your bedroom with decor items that reflect your style and personality. Add artwork, photographs, and decorative pillows to enhance the aesthetic appeal. A well-placed rug can add warmth and texture to the room. Remember, the goal is to create a space that feels comfortable and uniquely yours. 

Transform Your Bedroom Today 

By incorporating these bedroom furniture design ideas, you can elevate your space and create a stylish and comfortable retreat. Explore Kanaba Home’s collection of innovative bedroom furniture to find the perfect pieces for your space. With thoughtful design choices, you can enjoy a beautifully organized and inviting bedroom. 

[hdinsider]

Check out this BEWISHOME Vanity Table – it's an absolute game-changer for any bedroom! 😍 With its spacious surface and upholstered stool, getting ready in the morning just got a whole lot more comfortable and stylish. Say hello to your new morning routine! 💄💁‍♀️ #renovate #viral #VanityTable #BedroomGoals #MorningRoutine #HomeUpgrade #BEWISHOME #SelfCareTime _ watch it by link -> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/1130051731483041845/

[bentleydesignsoutlet]

Fully Assembled Bedroom Furniture With Fast Uk Supply

The vary is made with extremely durable laminate, making it wipe clear and simply maintained. Aside from high-end beds, dressing tables and bedside tables, here are 5 wonderful ideas that may add to the overall performance, appeal and luxury of any modern bedroom. We provide a massive selection of care residence bedroom furniture sets, particularly designed and chosen to resist use in a care surroundings.

It has no particular operate assigned to it like a dressing desk stool, which might solely be paired with a dressing table. A easy solid oak square bedroom stool is often a useful addition to your bedroom. Keep it in front of a full-size mirror as a seat when you’re preparing in the morning. Or place it beside your favorite accent chair by the window to put your coffee mug or the e-book you’re studying.

At Big Furniture Warehouse, we imagine that creating your dream bedroom does not need to cost a fortune. And that purchasing low cost bedroom furniture should not imply you have to compromise on quality. If you wish to furnish your home with good quality furniture but you are on a budget, Home Detail has received you lined. We understand how important furniture is in relation to turning a home into a house, so we aim to provide subtle designs at affordable prices. Save as much as 20% on tables, shelving, AV items and sideboards in the Heal's front room furniture presents.

Luxury bed frames and headboards come in a spread of contemporary and upholstered types, with extra decadent choices from Jonathan Charles. Complete your tranquil retreat with our luxurious bedroom furniture collection of bedside tables, drawers and stylish wardrobes, while bedroom furniture sets uk matching bedroom furniture sets offer a complicated look. Upholstered benches, bedroom chairs and stylish stools will finalise your inside scheme. People require beds that can face up to the trial of time whereas coinciding with the current bedroom décor.

Due to their comparatively minimalist design, wall-mounted cabinets additionally go nicely with a extra modern feel. Wall-mounted vanity items take benefit of out there area by clearing the floor of your bathroom and leaving empty space that might be used for additional bedroom furniture stores storage or left as-is. This selection works well in bathrooms of all sizes as a result of it additionally gives the look of a spacious and neat design. Fitted vainness units are excellent for bogs with restricted area since they are fairly compact and have a shallower depth (around 25 cm).