#mac x reader

The objects are unsure of what to think of you, as— unlike the og!homeowner— they know nothing! Do you have siblings? How do you like your coffee made? So many questions and some are afraid you’ll turn out just like the og!homeowner.

When you officially move in however, they realize their concerns were for naut. The moment your name was signed on the paper, the door slammed opened, revealing your guardians/parents. The house was used to quiet and stillness. After all, the og!homeowner isolated themselves due to the datevatiors and were’t a very sociable person in general.

So suddenly having guests over, startled the objects to a high degree.

Shelley was practically hooting and hollering. Her shelves began to warp and become loose due to natural wearing. You’d asked your guardian to teach/help you fix them. Shelly wants to give you a bear hug!

Mac felt like they could breathe lighter. You figured out how outdated their system was, immediately updating them. You also deleted the 50k fanfiction of the og!owner. (They laughed when your curiosity got the best of you and you began to read it. You didn’t make it past three paragraphs.)

Koa indeed took comfort within the silence. But won’t deny that being used by many people felt… nice. You even complimented how soft his cushions were, patting the arm of the couch (aka his arm). He couldn’t help but feel bashful.

The sudden visits didn’t stop there though. Later in the week, you invited any nearby friends for a welcoming party and they all showed up!

Beverly thrived as she finally had a purpose other than serving a single (unappreciative) person. You also whipped out the most vicious, creative cocktails! She’s taking notes.

Daisuke was concerned about the amount of delicate plates/cups being used. However, he watches as you lightly scold everyone to not ‘fuck up’ and drop the plates. He finally lets himself relax, a chuckle slipping out seeing your rather stern expression.

Mitchell taps his pen against his notebook, looking at all of the food being displayed on top of Abel. While inviting your friends, he overheard you ask for each person to bring something for a huge potluck. The different aromas and textures of the food complimented each other nicely. He nods: rating the potluck an 9/10 (Deducted points for one person lugging in store-brought food. Unbelievable!).

Dateables who typically aren’t involved in social gathers even caught sneak peeks of your real personality. You noticed one of your friends didn’t look very well, so you asked them to head upstairs if they needed a break. Sooner or later, you snuck away from the main group, only to find your friend hiding away in the dark storage closet.

They opened up about relationship issues: feeling like they’re pulling away from each other. You continued to listen and comfort them, despite sitting in such a cramped space.

“Well… maybe actually sitting them down to have a proper conversation could help?” You suggested, patting their back with a soft smile. “I know it’s scary to talk about these things. But something has to change, otherwise… things will continue to fall apart. At that point, it’s too late. And you’ll wish you did something earlier.”

At the end of the conversation, you hugged your friend tight, never judging nor criticizing them once.

Eddie is hurting. Badly. The faulty wire is continuing to knock power in and out of the house. Yet, he’s lucid enough to hear your advice. It wasn’t directly to him, but he understood the seriousness of your tone. He wonders: if you learned about him and what’s actually happening to the power, would you say the same thing?

Volt is struggling. Badly. He took over the main base of the electricity to give his lover a break. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but damn it hurts. Your conversation drifts in his ear and out the other. The man laughs bitterly. Change, huh? If you managed to find the dateviators, he hopes you’ll keep the same comforting energy after you face him.

Dorian nods his head. He understands perfectly where you’re coming from. Whether the change is welcomed or not, sometimes it’s very necessary. Maybe this new owner isn’t that bad… but he’ll continue to observe you— not wanting a repeating incident from the og!homeowner.

A week after the party ended, one of your friends asked a favor: to baby sit their kid. For or a day or two give-or-take. You absolutely had no issue this (and the dateables are wondering how truly nice humans can be). Now, there’s a small boy— no less than six-years old— squealing around the house. Furthermore, once it was bath time, it felt like a second house party all over again.

Bathsheba hummed in contempt, watching the child eagerly splash within the tub. She sees you and the boy blow bubbles into the air and onto each other. It was messy. Maybe quite icky. But the bright grins on the top of your faces was endearing. Fine. She’ll allow this for now.

River made sure the water was at the perfect temperature. Never too hot, never too cold. She decided to ignore the splashes of water against the floor. It’s been… some time since the she’s seen such lively within her domain.

Amir wished he was a camera. If so, he’ll be able to commemorate this moment forever. How adorable! Your t-shirt is soaked and arms are covered in soapy residue. Despite the soiled appearance, he admits you still look enchanting as ever. The kid you’re babysitting is quite the charmer too!

Many things have changed since you moved in, but— oddly enough— the objects didn’t mind. Your habits, hobbies, and social life is significantly different than the og!homeowner. Yet, you’ve shown so much kindness in the short time living here.

nsfw under the cut, afab/fem reader! - happy 300 ♡

Romantic headcanons for: MAC

Featuring: Mac

Fic type: headcanons, fluff!!

No content warning, pretty short length wise, Gender neutral reader :)

Yay!! I love Mac soo much, made me so happy to see this in my inbox ❤️

First of all, once you enter a relationship with Mac your 11.5 hours of screentime a business week skyrockets higher than a person who touches grass could ever imagine.

Thanks for the request and I got another ask about including Luke Nukem in the next Headcanon I write so I will include our dear, crazy microwave man in here. Also I'm going to be honest here and say I don't like Parker, sorry if it's obvious in his part & with most of the characters here I went the Friendship route ^^" But it was still fun to write!

I hope you will still enjoy it, likes & reblogs are always appreciated and don't forget to send me an Ask or Request if you want [I also really should make a do/dont write for list, huh?]

Cuddle Time #3 [Date Everything x GN!Reader]

[Feat; The Hanks, Mac, Parker & Luke Nukem] [Divider Credit]

𖣳 The Hanks 𖣳

- You are always in the middle of the pile, the other Hanks had started with drawing matches to see who sleeps next to you. But after a while Hank 2 suggested to make a detailed rotation plan, so everyone had a turn cuddling with you

- All of them run quiet hot, some run a bit cooler [Hank 1 & 5] while others are the definition of a human oven [Hank 4] so if you're cold you can ask the boys to let someone else cuddle you for the day

- All of them are diffrent cuddlers even if they all share the same amount of muscles, here are the details;

hell yeah! i’m p sure cam is counted as a kitchen dateable but i’m gonna add him here since there’s more male kitchen dates

also i’d like to formally apologize to everyone for butchering chance, please forgive me🙏

Office Dateables Catching Tease! Homeowner

warnings; nsfw/18+, punishments, brat taming, brat! reader, submissive character, food play,

Mac loves to tease, and loves being teased! But it comes to a point where you’re just being cruel, making them feel you playing with their wires, caressing the keyboard unnecessarily so there’s absolutely no mistaking that you’re doing it on purpose. The clicker game is the bane of their existence, but the direct cause of so much pleasure - Every time you start it up, they’re already arching their back, flushed with anticipation!

You begin seeing various things open on your screen that you know you never looked up or typed, because Mac did! They open up multiple tabs of porn - mostly overstimulation, multiple online sex shops of various toys (all of which just coincidentally can be controlled via Bluetooth, or through another website), and a doc open that just says to put on the glasses. When you do, pressing your thighs together in anticipation? Mac is already on your desk, kissing you.

Mac’ll make you watch the porn they’ve collected, filling your ears with graphic descriptions of what they’ve been thinking about since you began teasing them, overstimulating them with no mercy. They’ll be slow at first- Returning the favor and making you savor every, almost painful touch while they force your thoughts out with every tear from your eyes and every amount of slick making a mess of your thighs.

Jerry just wants relief, his mind has not even reached to considering punishing you. It’s not something that’d cross his mind - But God, if his cock isn’t hard every time you’ve nonchalantly trailed your fingers across the drawer's knob, making him let out a strangled whimper. He really wants to kiss you, to fuck you if you’d let him, and please let him, he’ll make sure you feel so good.

Jerry’s naturally clumsy when it comes to any kind of intimacy, all his kisses end up with both of your hands roaming, flushed, and rushed mutters of all the things he wants. Pleas to let him fuck you, he begs for it. “Please, please, pleasepleaseplease-“ Jerry groans in your ear, hands gripping into your flesh like he’s trying to keep himself from ripping you apart, bulge resting against your thigh- Flushed and almost teary, “Rubbing me all week, you’re mean.” He bites, nibbling along your shoulder desperately.

Cam is cruel towards you, truly a bully when he grabs your face and slams his lips on yours in a poor excuse of a kiss (more like an assault), swallowing all your noises. Dragging you down onto the floor, manhandling you - Cam isn't picky so long as you end up under him. Don't bother apologizing or asking for mercy, he wants you to keep up that brave, "I can do anything" attitude you've been having. Recalling every moment that you've teased, every moment that you've purposely put some loud-ass porn on and moaned his name while he was right there ready to take care of you.

Unlucky for you, if you didn’t want him to take care of you then, you don’t get him taking care of that needy cunt now. Cam’ll cup your tits, biting and sucking one nipple while his hand squeezes and pinches the other. He bullies as cock inside of you, slowing down whenever he feels you tensing, but never coming to a full stop - Just slow enough where you’re forced to feel every inch dragging against your slick walls. By the time he’s done, you’ll be stuff like his personal cum dumpster, he’ll be completely satisfied while you’re still twitching and begging to cum. If you’re lucky, and he’s feeling nice, he might give you his cucumber to fuck yourself with for him (And he’ll be watching the entire time, making sure you’re savoring every single second of his generosity!)

Chance is one of the few (but not only!) dateables you can drag around wherever you want to, and he’s arguably had one of the worst times when it comes to your teasing. Feeling you trace your fingers along the edges of the die, even kissing or giving a small lick before you roll it “for luck” - All in good fun at first, he loves spending time with you, but the longer it goes on for, the longer his fat cock is throbbing through until he’s jerking himself off, grunts and growls being ripped from his throat.

He’s on you as soon as he notices the glasses being put on your face, you barely get a moment to realize what’s happening before Chance is tugging at your clothes, cursing into your skin in an uncharacteristically desperate manner. He ties you up with some ropes or ribbons he usually saves for acting in G&G, and will surprisingly give you the choice between overstimulation or edging, how you want it done… It’s almost strange how many choices he’s given you for what’s supposed to be a punishment, but that’s where the niceness begins and ends! The man’ll talk you through the punishment, calming down from his earlier desperation as he pushes his fingers inside your hole until you’re drooling.

Chance’ll push the die you’d been carrying on your person against your lips, telling you to kiss like how you have been. As soon as that little peck is done, a shiver running down his spine while he pushes the dice against your slit. He won’t try pushing it inside, but he can and will make you cum over and over, or edge you that way. After all, it’s not like he needs to be inside to cum. No, he can spend the entire time with his pants on, not allowing you the pleasure of even seeing his pulsing cock.

Date everything x Reader (Cam, Mac, Chance)

(A/N): If I misgendered Mac anywhere in this post please LMK!!This is my first time writing for a non binary character so I might’ve slipped. If you’d like to leave me some requests for date everything feel free to do so in my inbox <3

Warnings: NSFW in some parts, Mainly written for afab readers, Author doesn’t know how to write nsfw for shii

MINOR AUTHOR, DNI IF UNCOMFORTABLE

Divider Creds ~ @anitalenia

Oh, They’re So Weird (☉-⚆)

“You recently got laid off of your job. Thankfully, you found an ad on Craigslist that paid quite a bit for you to just housesit! 🍩”

DAY FOUR

Previous Day -> Next day

CONTAINS: Mateo, Betty, Mac, Artt, Keyes, Tyrell, Amir, Telly, Hector, Friar Errol, Luke, Stefan, Freddie, and brief mentions of other objects because of a meeting (Celia, Harper, Dirk, Teddy, Chairemi, and Volt)

A/N: Sorry for the long wait lol. Also, sorry if I was unable to get you in the tag list. A lot of people wanted to be added, so I might have missed a bit. Or I was unable to tag you. I think that might be a me issue but I’m not sure.

You stirred slowly, blinking up at the ceiling with a sleep-heavy haze behind your eyes.

Something was… different.

The blanket was wrapped around you just right. Not too tight. Not too loose. Just firm enough to press into your shoulders, your hips, your chest. It felt like it had weight to it now. Not stifling, just comforting, like a hug that knew when to let go and when to hold you closer.

You didn’t remember it being a weighted blanket when you got here. Had you missed that detail?

Did it matter?

You sighed through your nose, eyes fluttering shut for a few more precious seconds. Your legs shifted slightly, but the blanket moved with you, cradling every angle of your body. You felt… cocooned. Safe.

Unseen and unspoken in the quiet world just beside your own, Betty gently fluffed the pillow beneath your head. Mateo pressed a little firmer into your back, a silent, immovable warmth that grounded your whole body. Neither said anything. But both radiated a quiet, glowing joy.

They were happy.

You were here.

Eventually, the morning tugged you from the bed with soft reluctance. You murmured a half-hearted goodbye to the blanket, maybe you’d even thanked it, and got dressed in something loose and comfortable. Today would be lighter. Or so you thought.

Your first stop was the office. You weren’t even sure why, just that it felt right. Familiar. Like maybe the computer would greet you again with completed work you didn’t remember doing.

You sat in the same chair and booted up the computer. It whirred to life like it was happy to see you. Still fast. Still flawless. Still faintly unsettling.

As you waited for the screen to load, your eyes wandered toward the walls. There was that art again. The framed pieces you had admired on the first day: beautiful, strange, modern in a way that felt too intentional.

You squinted.

Had the eyes on that one always been… turned this way?

You stepped to the side.

The gaze followed.

You blinked, looked at another. Tilted your head.

Still following.

You frowned slightly, a pit blooming low in your stomach. “Weird,” you muttered to yourself.

There was no sound in reply.

Just a low creak behind the walls.

The air felt… different.

Only slightly.

But enough.

You shook it off and sat back down at the desk. The keyboard clicked happily beneath your fingers, and your work loaded again, flawless. Maybe even better than yesterday.

But something inside you, something you hadn’t quite heard since that dream, was beginning to whisper again:

This isn’t normal. You know that, right?

You leaned back in the oddly perfect desk chair and let out a satisfied little huff. “Man, I don’t know how this computer does it, but everything’s done again.” You squinted at the screen. “Seriously. I feel like I should pay you at this point.”

You laughed to yourself. Then…

A white window appeared.

Just a blank screen… with a pixelated smiley face sitting in the middle.

: )

You paused.

“…Okay then.”

It was simple, kind of weird… but not creepy. Somehow. You smiled back awkwardly at the screen and reached forward to shut the computer down. “Glad you’re on my side, mystery machine.”

Inside the humming body of the computer, Mac quietly glowed with joy. Someone had smiled at them. Not mocked or ignored or dismissed, smiled. It was a small thing, but for them? It felt bigger than code.

You headed to the kitchen next, stomach growling. You were too tired to cook anything complicated, so you grabbed the bag of frozen nuggets from the freezer.

“Simple lunch,” you muttered, tossing a few into the air fryer.

Minutes later, a soft ding announced they were done.

You opened the fryer and paused. The nuggets were… perfect. Crispy on the outside, tender inside. The exact golden color you liked. You blinked at them.

“You didn’t do too bad,” you mumbled, poking one with your fork. “Thanks?”

From beyond the veil of your reality, Friar Errol tood tall in his metal shell, glowing with righteous smugness.

“And lo, did I say unto thee, ‘be not tempted by the false idols of soggy heating!’ For Stefan burneth, and Luke scorcheth, but I? I crisp with divine balance!”

“Convert now, dear child, and I shall lead thee to salvation: perfectly golden, perfectly seasoned.”

From across the room, Luke buzzed in irritation.

“Excuse me?! I reheat with consistent internal temperature! Not everything needs to be rung out like a towel, holy man.”

Stefan flicked his burners.

“I may get a little zealous on high heat, but at least I cook like a real appliance. You’re nothing but a glorified hair dryer with a superiority complex.”

“Silence, flame-born sinner!” Friar Errol bellowed back. “You turn chicken into ash and pizza into charcoal! I deliver divine crunch!”

Meanwhile, sweet Freddie gave a quiet hum of happiness when you opened the door.

The drink inside? Perfectly chilled. Not frozen. Not warm. Exactly how you liked it.

You took a sip and sighed. “Okay, kitchen… you’re really pulling it together today. Gold stars all around.”

In the cold hum of his little world, Freddie practically wiggled in delight.

“I’m just happy to be of service!”

After lunch, you walked into the living room with your cold drink in hand, planning to relax a bit before heading back to the office. You passed by the piano on your way to the couch, glancing at it the same way you always did, politely, like one would nod at an old neighbor you don’t really know.

But then, the keys moved.

Just one or two at first, like a fluke. But then they played again. And again. And before you could process it, a familiar melody began to echo gently through the room.

Your favorite song.

You froze.

No one was near the piano.

You turned in a slow circle to make sure.

Still alone.

“…Okay. That’s not weird at all.”

The music continued, soft and sweet. Like it wasn’t trying to show off, just please you.

Deep within her elegant wooden frame, Keyes smiled to herself as her keys danced smoothly.

“Such sophisticated taste,” she whispered to no one but herself. “I knew it. I knew it. And to think, I wouldn’t have known had Curt and Rod not mentioned the humming. They listen so closely. I owe them so much.”

She played the last few notes with extra care, like placing flowers at someone’s door.

After shaking off the piano thing, kind of, you dropped down onto the couch and grabbed the remote. A little TV wouldn’t hurt, right?

You clicked the power button.

The screen lit up. Instantly, a show started playing. Not just any show, that show. The one you’d been meaning to start but hadn’t gotten around to. Weird coincidence. You changed the channel.

Another show you had mentioned offhandedly. Then another. Then one you’d forgotten you wanted to watch.

You lowered the remote slowly. “…Alright.”

On the other side of the screen, Telly nearly buzzed with excitement, their static heart fluttering.

“Only the best for our favorite viewer!” they chirped. “No subscription fees, no commercials, just curated perfection. You’ll see! I’m better than any streaming service! I know what you want before you do!”

You stood up, shaking off the weird feeling starting to press in behind your ribs. “Okay… maybe I just need some fresh air.”

You passed through the hallway, and the mirror you caught your reflection in? Your face looked really good in it. Not like a normal mirror. Like the perfect lighting, perfect angle, perfect everything.

“You look your best with me, azizam,” Amir whispered from behind the glass, his frame humming gently with pride. “I only show you what you deserve to see.”

In the bathroom, your toothbrush had already been loaded with paste. The water was the exact temperature you liked. The towel rack had the fluffiest towel folded on top, just for you.

“I fluffed it twice,” said Tyrell. “Just in case once wasn’t enough…”

Even the hallway lights dimmed when you squinted. Brightened when you leaned in to check your phone.

The objects weren’t just helping, they were observing. Adjusting. Learning.

You sat down on the couch again and gripped your cup a little tighter. This was nice. Very nice. A little too nice.

You weren’t sure when it started feeling like the house was… watching.

Not in a bad way. Not yet.

But you could feel it now. Something behind the warmth. Behind the comfort.

You took a sip from your drink.

“…What is this place?”

And though no one answered, the house practically held its breath.

After dinner and a few more eerily perfect episodes of your favorite show, you decided to turn in early.

The minute you stepped into your bedroom, the air shifted. The temperature? Exactly how you liked it. Not a single degree off. The sheets? Warm but breathable. The blanket, just weighted enough to anchor your limbs without crushing you.

You blinked.

“Okay… now I know it wasn’t this comfy on day one…”

“That’s because you’ve been adjusted,” muttered a voice, though only just outside your perception.

Behind the vent, Hector sat in the dark of the central panel, staring at your sleeping figure through the vents like a Victorian man seeing his muse for the first time.

“They’re perfect,” Hector whispered reverently. “So considerate. So grateful. So warm-blooded.”

“I calibrated every degree to match their soul. Their SOUL!”

You drifted off to sleep fast, your body practically melting into the bed.

And once your breathing evened out…

The house began to shift.

Not physically (they weren’t trying to scare you… yet), but in a low hum of gathering energy, of quiet footsteps, of whispers through pipes and vents and sockets.

In the ethereal echo of the object world, Mayor Celia stood on her platform, a clipboard in hand, heels clicking on the polished marble floor that didn’t actually exist. Her glasses perched perfectly on her nose, her blouse wrinkle-free despite being conceptual.

“Okay, meeting of the household objects, let’s come to order!” she barked with a sharp smile. “Topic of the hour: the house sitter. Or as Hector has called them: ‘my thermal twin flame.’”

“I stand by it,” Hector muttered, arms crossed, a small space heater clutched dramatically to his chest.

“You’re so embarrassing,” Rebel groaned, flopping over a chair back. “You need therapy. A fan. Something.”

Telly raised a hand. Their screen face was showing a soft blush emoji.

“I…I would like to state for the record that I’ve never felt this seen before. They watched three shows in a row. THREE. They even LAUGHED. At ME.”

“You’re a TV,” said Stefan, who was trying to light a cigar with one of his burners. “Laughing at you is kinda your job.”

“Blasphemy,” Friar Errol hissed. “The house sitter has chosen us. Clearly, they’ve seen the light. The light of the righteous fryer path.”

“Don’t you start,” snapped Luke, slamming his door dramatically. “You’re not the only appliance in this kitchen, grease boy!”

“Grease boy? How dare you, wretch!” Friar Errol fumed.

Keyes twirled a spectral music note through her fingers. “I played their favorite song. Did anyone thank me? No. Because I’m not in the kitchen and I don’t toast bread or confess sins through oil.”

Amir checked himself out in himself.

“Oh, please. I’ve been holding their insecurities together with glamour and good lighting. The rest of you just feed them.”

“Okay, okay, settle down,” Mayor Celia said, rubbing her temples. “We’re getting off track. The house sitter is clearly-“

“A GIFT TO HUMANITY,” Hector interrupted, his voice echoing through a heating vent. “I would lay down my circuitry for them.”

“Same,” muttered Freddie, who rarely spoke in meetings but had been secretly glowing just a little extra every time the reader opened him.

Celia clapped once.

“Focus! We need a plan. We’ve been slowly revealing ourselves in little ways: temperature, food, comfort, music. But they still don’t know we’re alive. And if we scare them too much-“

“-they’ll leave,” Volt finished solemnly.

The room fell quiet.

Then, from the back, a soft beep: Mac shyly displayed a smiley face on their screen.

“They smiled back at me today,” Mac said, their tone gentle. “I think… they’re starting to feel it.”

Everyone went quiet again.

Then:

“I think we should let them find one of the letters,” whispered Teddy.

“No!” Harper shouted. “It’s too soon! They’ll freak out!”

“Better to let them know than make them feel tricked,” Dirk said, arms crossed.

“How about we just… drop a hint?” Chairemi offered. “Like, subtle. A post-it note that blinks.”

“You are not allowed to do anything with lights,” Mac grumbled.

Mayor Celia cleared her throat, voice firm:

“We vote. Raise your hand if you agree that we start nudging them more directly, just enough to let them know… they’re not alone.”

Almost every hand (or equivalent) rose.

“Very well,” she said, writing something down. “Tomorrow, we begin phase two. Meeting adjourned.”

Back in your bed, warm and safe and perfectly regulated by an emotionally attached HVAC system, you shifted in your sleep as a dream drifted in.

A dream where the house was alive.

And it was smiling.