#date everything celia

☆ﾟ°˖*Amir

Amir does his job best, to reflect back your gorgeous visage with gusto and an ongoing stream of praise even though you won’t be able to hear any of it in this lifetime, but that hardly stops him as he always finds himself cooing and muttering how beautiful you are when you grace him with your presence in his many reflections.

So really, it’s both a blessing and a curse for him to be placed by your dresser where he can reflect back the whole view of your bed and your shivering form.

How he aches to have you turn yourself towards him, to let him see and watch how you work your fingers on you. It’s torturous, only being able to hear your quiet gasps, the muffled whining from your pillow or the desperate moaning as you reach your peak.

Oh, how you torture this poor mirror azizam.

Don’t blame him when he starts thinking of various positions you can do to properly show your beauty in all angles.

But what he truly longs for is to be able to see your face clearly, without anything obscuring your beauty so he can see how you would close your eyes tightly and grit your teeth to keep your sounds from spilling out once you climaxed.

Oh how he longs to see it, and hopes that he would be able to be the one to bring out all kinds of faces you can make for your pleasure.

☆ﾟ°˖*Betty

Your bed is the last thing you see and feel, and the first thing you wake up to when your alarm rings or when some stream of sunshine manages to slip past your curtains to rudely wake you up.

Betty always tries to savor that feeling of your body sinking down the mattress or you using and clutching your pillows in your sleep. With your job, you’re always so quick to leave her in the morning and only have so little time to sleep in her after having another overtime.

And imagine her happiness when you have a day off today! Despite the sun already up and Timothy already done with his job of waking you up, you just quietly slip back under the covers and not a minute later until your breathing slows that you’re back in dreamland.

She’s glad you decided to sleep in, you definitely needed it after many sleepless nights in that dreadful job of yours. And she won’t deny that she missed you.

You weren’t exactly immune to wet dreams, a fact that Betty knows with her whole being. So when she feels you grinding yourself on her sheets, well, she missed this too.

It’s really hard for her, being this close to you yet never being able to touch or hold you in the way she wants. She watches you with lidded eyes, wondering just what kind of dream has you this hot and bothered.

Oh she fantasizes so many things, maybe it was a hot coworker of yours, or ohh maybe it's a gorgeous stranger that asked you for directions, hell maybe it's that favorite barista of yours.

“Please…” You mumbled in your sleep. How she wants to help you, to embrace you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear as she works you off.

“Go ahead honey, grind on me.” She whispers to you, watching as your hips go frantic before stilling and a quiet moan following. Then you’re fluttering your eyes and she imagines that you’re actually seeing her, that your silly smile was for her.

But it’s not, she watches you rise and a curse falls from your lips seeing the mess on your pajama pants, then you’re already leaving her to start your day.

☆ﾟ°˖*Celia

The first time it happened was an accident really, the other times though, we’re not.

Really it’s hard to not watch you when she's literally the ceiling for crying out loud. There’s only so much she can do in this state.

With how chaotic the house can get and the growing piles of complaints (most of them being Beverly and her bar or Lux) Celia needed a way to wind down from her duties.

Chairemi’s plays and her dearest Florence is a big help until Chairemi is on her day off and she doesn't want Florence to worry for her.

Watching you hump on your pillow was… quite entertaining. The way your hair clings to your sweaty face or that tantalizing arch of your back when you speed up.

Well, don’t tell Chairemi but she much prefers watching you get yourself off than her plays.

You were a delight. Even when she tries to look away or busy herself with reading another one of Tony’s projects, just a little sound from you has her turning her head to your form.

Enthralled on the way you chase your pleasure and those shivers of yours– there’s no object in this house who wouldn’t watch you.

She may not show or say it but she’s always waiting to watch the next time you’re feeling particularly horny.

☆ﾟ°˖*Curt and Rod

Oh lord…

“Did you see that?”

“Shut your mouth, I’m trying to watch–”

“So am I but you got to admit that was really cute when they–”

“Shhh!”

Not even when they’re watching you fuck yourself, they still wouldn’t shut up.

This is one of their favorite things to watch, more than throwing shades to poor innocent strangers just walking by outside. It’s almost at a tie with throwing shade at each other. And you should be honored (even though you wouldn’t know that until a certain sunglasses arrives).

One of their favorite positions of yours is when you’re on your back and just when you’re about to get your release, the way you throw your head back jussst right has them seeing your blissed out face as you ride out your high.

Damn you really do look cute like this.

And that’s the ONLY time they’re both quiet, greedily watching your chest rise and fall as you bask in pure endorphins.

But there are those moments where they’re both spewing absolute filth while watching you, and if you could only hear the kinds of things they say…

“Look at that.”

“I’m looking.”

“Don’t they look cute riding that pillow?”

“Yeah but I think they look better bent over.”

But most of the time it’s just them arguing.

“Wow they’re close already?”

“Oh so you can talk but I can’t?”

“Yeah cuz I can’t listen to them with your grating voice.”

“Grating?! Now I know that’s a lie–”

“SHHHH!”

☆ﾟ°˖*Dirk

He’s your clothes.

There’s literally nothing else I can say.

He’s the first to know your arousal, the one who can feel your growing wetness in your underwear when you’re busy writing away your very erotic smutty fanfics on Mac. The one who can feel your desperation as you squirm in your seat when the heat is getting too much.

Dirk absolutely revels during your writing session.

The way you cross your thighs together has him reeling, and if he closes his eyes then he can imagine he’s in between it, the feeling as you wrap your thighs around his head, and he can almost practically taste you.

But it never last long when you start stripping him off of you. Depraving him from the main course.

He almost cried when you had to throw him back to Harper.

If there was a ranking on which object has touched you the most: Dirk is winning that one (sorry Stepford).

☆ﾟ°˖*Hector

He didn’t mean to watch you, honest!

But he is a weak HVAC and he cannot stop himself when he’s being lured in by your breathing and groans that are akin to a siren's call.

He already sees you so highly and perfect but watching you has whet an appetite he didn’t knew he had.

Some part of him is aching to help and be of use for you, watching you pleasure yourself is a blessing but oh how he wishes to help you. You don’t even have to say a word, you just need to lay down and beckon him– ever the servant he is for your needs and pleasure, he will do everything he can to make you happy.

But alas, he is not the object that is deserving to be near you let alone touch you. His looks will surely disgust you. :(

After seeing you so exposed and in your most vulnerable has plagued him with such haunting images and thoughts.

And maybeeee he wrote those things into a story, a very detailed story of things he’s only finding out about himself. :3

Oh darling not only are you so perfect and lovely, you even inspired him!

☆ﾟ°˖*Mateo

Another he-didn’t-meant-to-watch! Pt.2

Unlike Hector who can only watch through the vents, Mateo has himself tangled in between your thighs.

Is this heaven? Yes, but he’s so embarrassed and flustered and it only got worse as you started grinding against your blanket (him).

Oh god, it feels good and you feel good so this is alright, right?

He doesn’t know if he can survive this honestly… And he actually doesn't want to survive it.

Because with how soft and warm your thighs are, he doesn’t want to leave or for this moment to end quickly.

He watches, he hears and he can feel you all at the same time. This is too much for him! It's both overstimulating but yet still not enough - and he feels horrible for thinking about how your skin and touch would actually feel on him.

The way you clutch onto him as you’re nearing your peak is almost like you’re pulling on his hair - which he didn’t know he was into.

You pulled your blanket closer to you, exhaustion already pulling you to sleep, aftercare thrown out the window as sleep takes you over.

With your slow breathing and your calming heartbeat is starting to lull Mateo to sleep as well, and his day was exhausting helping and caring for the inanimals, so maybe it’s fine for him to take a rest.

That was the best sleep he had in a while.

☆ﾟ°˖*River

There’s hardly a moment where you aren’t using water in your day-to-day life. Cooking, washing, cleaning and bathing as well. Your literal body is just water. Through it River has gotten to know you so well and quite intimately.

You were off to relax in your bathtub as a reward for surviving another horrible week at work and god you deserved this. The water, warm and filled with scents of lavender and roses from a bathbomb you used, is just the remedy for your aching muscles.

River is more than familiar with your body. She has each slope, curve, and beauty mark of yours memorized, and once you step inside your bathtub she was more than happy to embrace you once more.

Everything was the perfect definition of relaxation, your stress and frustration melting away and instead leaving a heady feeling as you slowly caressed your thighs, inch by inch your hand nearing closer to your nether region.

It’s the first time you’re doing this in your bath but unfortunately your horniness prevails as you slowly work yourself up with each touch.

It’s also the first time for River and a few denizens inside the bathroom to see and hear you pleasure yourself outside the bedroom, they can sometimes hear you but really they only get scraps of information from the others who gotten front row seats, but even then they only had to use their imaginations to paint the picture of you.

And how truly lovely you look as you work up a sweat on your forehead, glistening all the while under the light. Those descriptions the others gave did not do you any justice at all - or maybe it was just the lack of imagination for them, who knows.

Waves of water splashed and spilled but River couldn’t care, too focused on watching you and all the little twitches and shivers you made. Right now it feels like it’s just you and her in your own little bubble. (If you only noticed how the water started to get a little warmer but your head is long gone into that familiar space.)

There’s something so intimate to all of this, her embracing your body and being able to touch and feel you in her liquid state. The way the water surrounds and drips from your body is quite alluring.

When you finally come, River watches the way your release mixes and fades in the water, leaving no traces of your debauchery. Maybe later after seeing Winnifred she’ll have to paint lavenders and roses as a souvenir.

(Bonus, because I love the second bathroom objects)

As you go and start cleaning yourself off with Tyrell, unbeknownst to you there’s a lively chattering in your bathroom happening right now.

“Ohh, didn’t they look so cute!” Bathsheba was only the one so excited and gushing over your little show, the others lost into their own worlds all except for a certain rubber duck.

“That was really pathetic, I mean- coming already when it hasn't even been 10 minutes? Really ducking embarrassing.” Rebel said with a sneer as they floated around inside the bathtub.

“But they were cute, weren’t they Rebbie?” There was silence until a groan and Rebel swishing across the water.

“Ducking… I guess…” That reply seemed to be enough for Bathsheba as she glanced around the room to see the other’s reaction.

“Oh I know I have the exact same blush color to match around here… hmm, did I place it in the plants collection or the food collection…” Barry was off looking all over for that blush, Tyrell and Amir are busy doing their jobs while Jean Loo… Is busy staring into space, red faced and all that.

☆ﾟ°˖*Tyrell

It’s his job to clean and soak up all kinds of liquids you encounter or spilled (except mud), he takes pride and does his job dutifully.

Doesn’t mean he isn’t embarrassed when you go and start rubbing him over your chest, to your stomach and down, down to your sweet thighs.

Look, he is a professional. He has dried you up multiple times, he’s made for thi– OOOKAY NOW YOU’RE DIRECTLY WIPING HIM TO YOUR STAINS, OKAY.

This part of his job is a privilege only he has– unless you decide to use your clothes to wipe down your mess (damn you Dirk, that’s his job).

Even through his embarrassment, he prioritizes you and your comfort, so he has to be extra fluffy and warm when you’re doing your aftercare.

Too bad towel buddy isn’t here - they’re a kitchen towel - if he could, he would shape towel buddy into your favorite animal.

Something for you to smile at after you're done with your ‘activity’.

☆ﾟ°˖*Skips

He’s there, he always is. Just creeping at the crevices between furniture and even under your bed, once the sun’s down he’s free to move room by room, watching and listening to the happenings between objects but that’s not what he wants to see.

Slipping past Dorian’s shadow it seems he’s just right on time, your clothes thrown in a corner and you, the most gorgeous human he has laid his eyes on, just started with your little ‘show’.

He wonders how you’ll react, that your once empty and lonely house is actually filled with so many people, and all of them who are so curious about you.

How would you react after finding out that almost a dozen pairs of eyes are hungrily watching and taking in your naked body, your wanton moans that reverberate in your bedroom or how you leak and stain the covers and blankets of your cum.

It’s unlikely it’ll happen, but that hardly stops anyone from fantasizing about you and what they could do to you, their dear human.

So he watches just like the others, taking it all in as you sped your hand to chase that high, your other hand settling on teasing and pulling your nipples, cheeks red and a bead of sweat trickling down your neck.

He watches and waits with bated breath, you’re getting closer to cumming, just a bit more and– there you go.

Those sharp inhales and gasps you take is music in his ears. The tension in your shoulder drops and you sink back into your mattress, you’re probably feeling quite content now he’s sure.

He stays to watch you after you’re done cleaning up and once you're settled under the cover he’s quietly slipping past back to the shadows of a globe.

Your nightly activities became his respite. And it’s embarrassing but you somehow bring such comfort from your presence alone.

He wonders what you would be like if you met him, would you play along with Shadowlord and his ritual of collecting his armaments back? Would you like his true form – Skips Shadley even when he looks completely different as Shadowlord? He wonders if there’s a possibility for something to bloom between the two of you.

But then he thinks about Benji, and his hurt and loneliness is back crashing in waves.

Besides, it’s silly and stupid about thinking of being able to talk with the human, it’s just wistful fantasy and daydreaming on his and the other object’s part.

You’re awake, have been for hours, but your eyes have remained closed. If you keep them closed then you don’t have to face the reality of what’s going to happen today. Everything could go wrong, then again, everything could go right.

Birds chirp directly outside of your window, seemingly getting more insistent with each passing moment. One of them pecks at the window until you finally have enough, throwing the covers off. You glare at the bird, who you swear smirks at you before flying off.

You prolong your morning routine as long as you can, taking your sweet time with every little thing. You stare at yourself in the mirror for a long while, tracing over the small mark on your forehead; the stitches dissolved a few days ago and all that’s left is a tiny scar.

You splash your face, letting the water drip down your face, exhaling deeply. You can’t avoid this, as much as you want to, you promised Skylar. When you walk back into your bedroom, you notice a note on the bedside table, the familiar symbol of Celia's office stationery embossed on the corner:

 ‘Please meet us in the Breaker Box, dearest. -your lovers’

The vague message does little to soothe your ever fraying nerves, placing the glasses on a few minutes later. The Breaker Box sounds quiet from the outside; no laughter, none of Johnny’s crooning, nothing.

It takes you by surprise when you walk in, discovering that almost everybody is in the bar. You’ve never seen so many of them in one place, even during movie nights people rotate in and out. 

The murmurings you couldn’t hear from outside fall hush when the door shuts behind you, announcing your presence to the room, “Hello,” you choke out, resisting the urge to shrink under all the eyes on you.

“Thank you for coming,” Celia smiles, stepping through the throngs of people, offering a hand for you to take.

You hesitantly set your hand in hers, allowing her to guide you to your booth, “What’s going on?” you ask, looking around the room, watching as they shrivel when you meet their eyes.

“We’re doing what we should’ve done in the first place: talking to you- and apologizing,” Skylar comes forward to explain, “And after, you can say whatever you want, no matter how much you think it might hurt us, we want you to say it, okay?”

“Alright,” you confirm, fine with the terms, “You guys do know that apologies aren’t going to fix everything, right?” 

“We do, yes,” Skylar nods fervently, coming closer to you, “We all know that apologizing is the first step of a long process and we’re all okay with that.”

You nod back, going to thank her, but she cuts you off, “and please don’t thank us. It’s the bare minimum, probably even less,” she states, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Now, I think we’re going to start.”

The dateables line up near the stage, taking turns in front of the microphone; some had prepared speeches, others spoke on the fly, speaking whatever came to mind. There’s lots of tears, like a lot. Not just from you, though; everybody did.

It means a lot, hearing them all apologize so deeply from the heart. After everybody has had their turn, they all take seats somewhere, ready for you. You take your place on the stage, looking over the crowd, “Hi,” you speak into the mic, wincing when it crackles in return.

“I… I appreciate everyone’s apologies, deeply,” you trail off, shutting your eyes and taking a deep breath to compose yourself, “But I was to speak my mind, so I will.”

“Over the past week, I have been hurt immensely and I’m not talking about my accidents. The way you all treated me was…Horrible. The off and on hurt worse than it would’ve had you all just outright told me you hated me,” you tell them, picking at dry skin on your palms.

 “And it was over a movie. All of you ignored me so easily, not once thinking to talk to me about it,” your voice breaks, but you keep going, “I know why you did it, but I can’t understand it.”

Your face crumples, setting a hand over your eyes, gasping for air between broken sobs, “How was it so easy for all of you to do that to me?” you ask, unsure if you truly want the answer. 

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If you listen closely, you can hear the sounds of their hearts shattering. When this all started, they figured you’d see it the way they did. Apparently not. Nobody knows what to do. They hate watching you break down, but it seems like comfort from them is the last thing you want. 

“We’re sorry,” Skylar apologizes again, standing up from her chair.

“I don’t want more fucking apolgies, Skylar! I want an explanation, a reason, anything!” you shout, backing away from her, “You said it yourself, you know apologies aren’t fixing this.”

“I know, I know! Please,” she begs, stopping her approach when you back away, “we did it for you! We just wanted to keep you safe.”

“And where’d that get you?” you spit, trying to keep yourself in check. Anger wars with a deep sense of betrayal, battling for dominance in your own mind, “...Did you do it for me or for yourselves?”

That question sucks all the air from the room, a suffocating tension falling over the room. They did it for you, of course they did. They did. Sure, they were scared and didn’t talk to you to see what you thought, and did it so they wouldn’t carry the guilt of hurting you… 

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“That’s all I need you to admit,” you whisper, staring at Skylar expectantly, then turning to everyone else, “I don’t care if you did, but you can’t claim this was for me because this is not what I wanted. All I wanted was you guys.”

“You’re right,” it’s Dorian that admits it, his face as stoic as ever, “We were scared and it made us selfish. All we thought about was ourselves.”

You can’t find the words, only able to nod in response. It’s all you wanted to hear; it doesn’t change anything. Dorian begins approaching, keeping his steps slow and light, like coming up to a skittish animal.

He pulls you into his arms, tucking you against his wide frame. You protest weakly, smacking against his chest until you’re too tired to continue fighting, “Fuck you.”

He doesn’t apologize, nor does his grip on you falter. He holds you the way he always does, like he’s scared he might lose you if he lets go. For once, he’s worried that might be the case.