#I change my socks before they get stinky

[lemonlover1110]

𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘!

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: Toji doesn't want another baby, and there's nothing you can do about it, so you come to terms with it.

Warnings: Pure Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji doesn’t get baby fever. Out of the two of you, you’re the only one that squeals around a cute baby. Toji already knows parenthood, and he’s changed way too many diapers and done way too many late night feedings to know that he never wants to do them again.

Babies are cute, but at this point in life, he’d rather just be an uncle. He gets to hold and play with the baby, but gets to give them back when an accident happens. Unclehood is much better than parenthood, dare he say. He gets to do all the fun stuff and none of the bad stuff.

He doesn’t really want to do it all again, and there’s nothing that you can do to change his mind.

“Toji!” You yell from Megumi’s bedroom, and the man walks to the bedroom, annoyed. The man loves you to death, but he hears his name way too many times in this home.

He sighs, leaning against the doorframe as you open up a box. He makes his annoyance clear as he asks, “What?”

“I’m cleaning out Megumi’s closet, and look what I found.” You hold up the cutest onesie, one that fit six month old baby Megumi, something that feels like eons ago. Toji raises his brows, a smile coming to his lips.

“What? Are you thinking of having one?” Toji asks, and he’s surprised when you shake your head. It’s the first time you shake your head to that question. “Then what’s this?”

“Shouldn’t we donate it? Since we’re not having a baby, we don’t need these.” You tell him, and Toji can’t help but agree. There’s no way Megumi is going to fit into one of these onesies, even if he truly tried. 

“Let me help you.” He says, sitting down on the floor with you. You look at him, perking up your brows.

“What came over you? Suddenly being so helpful.” You chuckle, and Toji rolls his eyes as he grabs a onesie from the box. Why does it feel so small? He didn’t recall them being so small. “Who are you and what did you do with my husband?”

“Whatever happened to you wanting a baby? Who are you and what did you do with my wife?” Toji responds, wondering why now of all time you aren’t blabbering about how a baby would be a perfect addition to the house. These clothes are just so small and so adorable…

“I mean, we agreed to not have kids when we got married since you were done with that. It’s just unfair of me to ask for a baby when I know you don’t want more… So I accepted it.” You smile at him, feeling proud of yourself for this newfound maturity. Toji’s glad you’ve come to terms with it, because he was sure getting sick of it. 

He reaches into the box again, pulling out a pair of socks. He purses his lips together before looking at you. He didn’t remember babies having such small feet. “I’m glad that you–”

“I mean what’s even cool about babies? They’re cute, and nothing else. Then you have to…” You continue talking about the cons of babies, while Toji pulls out more and more clothes from the box. It seems to be getting smaller and smaller. His heart gets weaker with each item and he fights back the wicked thoughts. He can’t possibly be having… baby fever.

“Babies aren’t that great. Never have I looked at Megumi and thought ‘Oh I wish you were a stinky baby again.’ ” Toji says, but he pauses when he realizes that he’s had that thought before, way too many times. You chuckle before you quietly continue your task. Toji chews on the inside of his cheek, when he realizes something that he wishes he could push out of his mind.

He doesn’t want to be the one to bring it up, but you said you were done with asking. The umpteenth time is the charm or whatever they say. Toji hopes that by saying, “Oh, Megumi was just the chubbiest and sleepiest baby.” You’ll come to your senses. You have to go back to your duty of being the wife that annoys her husband for a baby, and this time around he’ll finally agree.

“Yeah, they’re sleepy until it’s three in the morning, then they’ll wake up.” You argue, not noticing what Toji is trying to do.

“He had the cutest sneezes.” Toji brings up.

“Yeah, means they’re sick because they put their hands on everything and then shove them in their mouths.”

“He was so cute when he laughed…”

“Have you heard how they cry? That easily outweighs that.” You don’t even notice how he’s putting the clothes back into the box. You keep taking out the same clothes, wondering why he had so many of the same set.

“For fuck’s sake! I want a baby.” Toji finally confesses, ashamed that he’s the one that has to bring it up. Your eyes widen, a smile coming to your lips before you practically jump on him to kiss him.

You kiss him over and over again, and Toji doesn’t want to fight you on it right now, but he has to put his hand over your lips when he senses the kiss leading to something else. He tells you, “Not in Megumi’s bedroom.”

“Right.” You laugh out of embarrassment, getting up from the floor and giving him a hand to do the same. 

He’s never seen you use so much force before as you drag him out of the bedroom. But it’s nice to see that you hadn’t really changed your mind, after all, that makes his job easier.

[pinkcarnatixns]

leah williamson | hands down

synopsis your girlfriend (barely) faces the consequences for her irritating behavior [1.5K] contents bf! leah, slightly suggestive

You were unbelievably pissed. 

Banging open the door to your shared apartment, you make a beeline for the couch and throw your weight into it with a huff. Making a show of being occupied with clicking through channels, you stubbornly keep your eye on the screen when the sound of your girlfriend’s sock-clad feet pad into the room.

“Baby,” she whined. Sparing her a glance, you only narrowed your eyes further at her standing form, complete with a pout and carrying both of your heavy training bags. At the resolute silence she receives and losing your gaze to the TV, she makes a statement of letting them both thud to the floor and stomping over. 

“You cannot be serious!” She argues as she’s met with a socked foot to the abdomen when making a move to sit next to you. 

As she’s standing over you, you make an effort for an even steelier gaze as the beginnings of a smirk tease her lips. Slowly, she leans more and more weight onto your leg which, shaky from training- quickly crumbles under the pressure. “Get off Leah! You are stinky and annoying!” The small victory she gets from crashing onto you is quickly replaced by shock as she tumbles to the floor at your retaliation. 

“You can kick me all you want but do not call me Leah!” She scoffs, clutching her chest and looking up at you with her all-too-familiar furrowed brow. “Why not Williamson? It is your name, isn’t it?” You smack away the ghost of her hand on your thigh and roll your eyes. 

“Stop that! You only call me that when you’re angry!” She groans as she stands to her feet, matching your crossed arms, “And I haven’t done anything!”

“Oh really! Then it must have been my other completely irritating girlfriend who insists on poking and prodding me like a teenage boy all day long!” You punctuate your words by standing and digging your pointer finger into her sternum.

In an attempt to quell your frustration, her hands find a familiar place on your hips in the small space between your bodies. You avert your gaze to avoid crumbling at the act of affection accompanied by the heady smell of her perfume, your crossed arms still your only line of defense. Her head tilts softly as she gazes down at you, “Is it such a crime to be obsessed with my lovely, gorgeous, talented girlfriend?” 

Heat rises to your cheeks, shy under her complete attention and frustrated at the way she can still make you blush easily after all these years. At the small break in your angry facade, she takes the opportunity to let her hands wander lower, unfortunately jogging your memory to what had instigated your fury in the first place. “It absolutely is when you feel the need to smack my butt in front of all our teammates like a horny boy while they laugh on like your own little fraternity! Honestly!” Shoving at her chest, you stalk over to your shared bedroom. 

Following at a much slower pace and with her head down like a scolded child, she watches on quietly as you rip through the drawers for a change of clothes, grabbing a towel so hard you nearly send the whole stack tumbling. Realizing where this is going, she starts pleading, “Honey, I’m so sorry, they were really egging me on! I swear Katie-”

She stops talking and tailing you as she nearly collides with your back, mustering up her most pitiful puppy eyes as you set your things on the counter. Whipping around to face her, you stand in the threshold of the bathroom, gripping the door with white knuckles. “I’m taking a shower! Alone!” The door is then promptly shut in her face and she hears the lock’s definite click ringing in her ears.

She pouts at the hardwood in self-pity before deciding there was much groveling that needed to be done and she should try to get a head start while you cooled off. 

After taking your time in the shower, you did feel much more relaxed- enough that you reached for one of Leah’s sweaters when leaving the warm steam of the bathroom. Treading back into the living room, you were surprised at her absence on the couch, your girlfriend normally one for lazing around after training. 

You’re suspicious at the small glimpse of her in the kitchen, striding over to you with a sheepish smile, steaming plate in each hand. She had clearly taken the time to shower in the guest room, clad in a hoodie that you remembered complimenting at some point, accompanied by some oversized basketball shorts. Her hair was haphazardly tied up, and you found your frown dissolving at the sight of her bangs sticking out, never quite cooperating much to your girlfriend’s chagrin.

“‘M sorry, I know it’s not much but it’s all I can make without burning our kitchen down.” She awkwardly chuckles, avoiding your eyes slightly in shame. You sigh, irritation gone from your body, and reach for one of the plates of spaghetti when she yanks it back towards herself. She lights up completely at your small acceptance of her peace offering and smirks. “No! Nothing but the princess treatment tonight, my love!”

Navigating around you towards the couch with a new pep in her step, you stand stunned at her sudden change in attitude. You watch on as she carefully sets the plates down on the coffee table next to wine glasses that you hadn’t noticed before, happily plopping into her normal spot.

She had clearly prepared this to some extent, as she drags your favorite blanket half over herself, hovering the rest next to her as an invitation. She shoots you with her familiar pleading gaze, shaking your side of the blanket for emphasis. You were never destined to hold out for long, treading over with a roll of your eyes. As you sit down next to her, she shoots you a thousand-kilowatt smile, leaning over you and tucking the blanket under your thigh, clearly a ruse to have you scooch closer to her- her body heat now seeping into yours. 

“You get to pick the entertainment for tonight, no complaints, I swear!” She passes you the remote, and lets her arm fall around your shoulders, gazing at you with a smug grin on her face. Leah always claimed to hate your ‘cheesy’ movies, forever trying to distract you from them with affection. “I should pick a movie I know you hate after that earlier stunt.” You mumble, but she recognizes the teasing lilt to your voice. 

“I’m sorry honey. You really just looked too good today! It should be illegal to be that pretty after running around in the dirt all day, seriously!” You blush at her words, leaning over to place a small peck on her lips to shut her up and because you really could not keep up this facade much longer. 

She lights up even further, smile bursting at the seams as she eagerly reaches over to place your plate in your lap. At your fork in her hand and her refusal to hand it to you, you quickly catch on to what she’s trying to do. “Leah. Please do not.”

She sinks a little at your words, and groans. “Call me anything but Leah, I’m literally begging.” 

You giggle at her dramatics. “Fine baby, please do not embarrass me in my own home, I’m capable of feeding myself.”

Completely ignoring your words, she makes a point of twisting around some noodles into a little bite and holding it up to your mouth. At your glare, she just smiles harder and moves it closer to your mouth. Knowing she wouldn’t drop it, you open your mouth and allow her to feed you. As you chew, she stares pensively, “How is it?”

It’s entirely too salty, forever being the girl’s favorite ‘seasoning,’ but you get it down and send her a thumbs up anyway- accompanied with a small smile. She’s ecstatic at your praise and peppers your face with kisses before you push her away lightly, giggling with your mouth still a bit full. 

“Now that’s settled! Finish your five star meal and then I deserve a much-needed cuddle session for all my hard work!” She grabs her own bowl and starts scarfing it down. You chuckle to yourself at her newfound enthusiasm, satisfied at the fact that she still glues one hand to your thigh while eating with the other. 

As your plates are almost clean, you break the comfortable silence with a final warning. “Do not do that again baby. You are the vice captain of a professional team and a grown woman, not a twelve year old boy. And Katie’s still in big trouble for egging you on.”

She sets both of your finished bowls back on the table, dragging your legs over hers which leaves you half on her lap. Meeting your pouty gaze, she breaks out in a shit-eating grin. “But baby, you’re so hot when you’re mad at me.”

You hope that the neighbors don’t complain at the resounding yelp she lets out as your hand slaps her bare thigh with all the strength you can muster.

[mellowsadistic]

The Succubus - Valentine's Day

A sequel to The Succubus.

***

“Good morning, little cucky,” the monster cooed, peering over the bars of the crib. “Happy Valentine’s Day! Could you hear the grown-ups having their fun earlier, sweetie? I hope we didn’t wake you…”

Debbie glowered at her, all too aware of how ridiculous she must look trying to be intimidating with a pacifier bobbing in her mouth, lying at the bottom of an oversized crib beneath a set of Disney princess bedsheets. Her eyes were red, and there were tears drying on her cheeks as well. She had indeed woken up to the loud sounds of lovemaking coming from her former bedroom.

The Succubus laughed. “Oh dear! Someone’s a very grumpy girl today! Looks like we did wake you after all, huh? I guess you’ll just have to have an extra-long nap this afternoon to make up for it. But right now it’s time to get you up and dressed, little one!” She flung back the princess covers to reveal Debbie’s body, nude but for the thick disposable diaper around her waist.

Debbie slipped out of her crib, her nappy sagging heavily between her legs as she got to her feet. Her bottom lip trembled behind her soother. She’d woken up wet again.

The Succubus reached out, grinning like a Cheshire cat, and put her hand on Debbie’s crotch. Debbie could feel the cold, soggy padding pressing against her pussy. “That’s my little bedwetter,” said the Succubus softly. She slipped a finger past the leak guards, her eyes not leaving Debbie’s face. “Soaked again... Mummy’s poor widdle baby just can’t contwol herself, can she?”  Then she spun her around and pulled out the back of her diaper. “But you’re still not pooping at night.” She turned her back around, smiling horribly. “Don’t worry though. Sooner or later you’ll start waking up stinky.”

Debbie imagined waking up every morning to a yucky mess in the seat of her pants and no memory of how it had got there, and felt sick at the thought. The Succubus wanted her to be fully incontinent. Her horrifying voice power had served to strip Debbie of most of her daytime control, but her commands didn’t work as well when Debbie was sleeping. It had taken weeks of ‘special medicine’ in her baby bottles, but now she was starting to reliably wake up in pissy Pampers. Yet the creature who had stolen her adulthood clearly wouldn’t be satisfied until she was doing the most babyish thing possible in her pants while she slept.

Once her hair was tied up in pigtails, frilly socks had been pulled over her feet, and she was dressed in a pale pink frock that failed to reach past the drooping, discoloured seat of her nappy (her overnight diaper was never changed before she made her morning poo-poo), Debbie was ready to head downstairs for breakfast. Mealtimes had been bad enough from the start, when the demon liked to cram her body inside a tight highchair, tie a bib around her neck, and feed her jar after jar of bland, mushy baby food – but things had become even worse ever since she’d realised there was another, better way to feed her ‘baby girl’.

They headed into the living room rather than the kitchen once they’d gone down the stairs, to find John lounging in an armchair having just finished his breakfast. His empty tray was sitting on a table beside him.

“Go and kiss Daddy good morning,” said the Succubus, patting Debbie’s diapered bottom to send her on her way.

Debbie hurried over to her husband. She wasn’t really allowed to kiss him, she knew. Instead she pressed the shield of her binky briefly against his cheek and let him pat her on the head. “Good morning, pretty princess,” he cooed, and Debbie’s heart did a little flutter despite herself.

She turned around and felt her stomach roll, as it always did, at the sight of the Succubus sitting on the sofa with her large, heavy tits out of her top. A droplet of milk was glistening on the end of one of her nipples. “Come to Mummy, baby,” she said seductively, her dark eyes burning like coals. “Time for your feeding.”

Debbie toddled to the sofa, diaper crinkling noisily, and lay herself across the monster woman’s lap. It had taken a while for her milk to come in, but now she produced enough that Debbie had three meals a day from her boobs, supplemented in the evenings by oatmeal and store-bought baby food. With a wet pop, the Succubus removed the dummy from her mouth and guided her lips slowly towards her waiting breast, clearly savouring the look of revulsion on her victim’s face.

Debbie felt the warm nipple enter her mouth, and her lips closed around it and began to suckle instinctively, enthusiastically, against her will. Hot, creamy breastmilk ran down her throat at once. It had a rum-like sweetness to it that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but no matter how hard she tried, Debbie couldn’t ignore the fact that she was guzzling milk from another woman’s tits. It didn’t help that the Succubus cooed to her in a sickening sweet voice while she fed.

“Good girl, Debbie! Drink up all your milkies, that’s a good baby. Isn’t it yummy-wummy? Straight from Mummy’s boobies to baby’s belly.”

The milk seemed endless, and Debbie’s stomach already felt full to bursting when she was moved onto the second breast. But she knew better than to try and fight. That would just make the creature use that cold, awful voice, and Debbie would simply end up doing as she was told anyway. She may even earn herself a spanking to boot. At last she finished her breakfast, and after being briefly burped with her head over the Succubus’s shoulder, the monster kissed her on the forehead, shoved her pacifier back between her lips, and got up. “Time for Mummy to have her breakfast too,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I think pancakes sound tasty. You stay here and behave yourself, okay sweetie?” And she left Debbie sitting on the sofa feeling heavy and tired, with her tummy full to the brim with breastmilk.

But Debbie knew she had a rare opportunity. It wasn’t often that the Succubus left her alone with her husband. John was still in his armchair, reading the paper, and the moment the demon left the living room, Debbie got off the sofa and waddled over to him as fast as she could. She could feel the milk sloshing around in her stomach. John looked up from his paper at the sound of her rustling diaper just as she reached him. Pushing aside his newspaper, her gaze fixed on his handsome face, Debbie clambered into her husband’s lap and straddled one of his legs. She bounced impatiently on his knee, and John wrinkled his nose at the pee-pee smell, but he chuckled indulgently all the same. “Do you want a horsey-ride, little missy?”

“Yes please,” Debbie whispered breathily, her soother falling from her mouth and dangling on the end of its chord. It had been over two weeks since she’d last had the opportunity for a ‘horsey-ride’ on his lap, but she felt that if the two of them could just have something resembling an intimate moment today, on Valentine’s Day, it would somehow undo the Succubus’s brainwashing and make John see her as a woman again.

John raised his eyebrow at her.

“Yes please, Daddy,” she corrected, hating the monster that had done this to her loving husband.

John nodded, satisfied, and started to bounce his knee. “Horsey, horsey, don’t you stop,” he sang, “just let your feet go clippety-clop!”

Debbie suppressed a moan of pleasure as her padded pussy was pressed hard against his knee with each bounce. If she closed her eyes and ignored the singing, if she pressed her body against his chest and pretended her pants weren’t full of pee-pee, she could almost pretend that they were making love.

“Your tail goes swish and your wheels go round!”

Her clit was pulsing delightfully. She could feel herself getting closer and closer to orgasm. She was so desperate these days. She was almost there… She was right on the edge…

“Giddy up, we’re homeward bound!”

“I think that’s enough of that!” came the Succubus’s amused voice, and Debbie felt arms loop around her middle and lift her effortlessly off her husband’s knee.

“Noooo!” she shrieked, kicking her legs and humping the air desperately. Her pussy was spasming, tantalisingly close to relief. “No! No! No!”

Her feet hit the floor and there was a sharp smack on her bottom. “Aren’t you a lucky girl, getting to play on Daddy’s lap for a bit!” the demon crooned darkly. She swatted Debbie’s bottom again. “But settle down now, babykins. You can’t play horsey forever, and Daddy doesn’t want you rubbing your disgusting, piss-soaked diaper all over him.”

“Pleeeease…” Debbie begged, tears welling up in her eyes. She pressed her hand against the front of her nappy and started to rub. She couldn’t stop herself. She needed release.

“Bad girl, Debbie!” the Succubus scolded, pushing her hands away from her crotch. “Is that what Mummy’s taught you to do when you’re feeling naughty tingles in your no-no spot?”

Debbie whined. She clenched her fists at her sides and bounced on the spot. Her pussy was so achy. She hated asking, hated what it involved, but it was the only time the Succubus ever allowed her to orgasm. Most of the time the monster refused her. But occasionally, just frequently enough, she’d say yes.

“Mummy…” Debbie said through gritted teeth. “Please can I have sex?”

“Keep going, baby,” the Succubus said, her eyes glittering maliciously. “Ask properly.”

“I know… I know I’m too silly and little for real sex,” said Debbie, glaring at the floor, “but I want to play pretend. Please can I have sex with my teddy bear?”

The Succubus ran her fingers through one of Debbie’s pigtails, considering, letting the silence drag on. “Yes you may, baby,” she said finally. “Go get teddy.”

Debbie rushed over to the toybox that sat in the corner of the room and pulled out an enormous teddy bear, disentangling him from some of her dress-up clothes. But she’d only gone two steps back towards the Succubus when she stopped dead. For a moment, she couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Then a soft grunt escaped her lips. Her knees began to bend, and she found herself sinking into an uncontrollable squat. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “No…” she sobbed.

“Uh-oh!” sang the Succubus, and Debbie could hear the grin on her face. “Looks like it’s time for someone’s morning whoopsies!”

John laughed. “I’m just glad she waited until she was out of my lap!”

Debbie let out a loud, unladylike grunt, following by another sob, and then she got to work pushing last night’s din-dins into her pants. Her diaper drooped even lower beneath the hem of her frock as a heavy, smelly mess dropped into the back. Her face was scrunched up as though she was straining with all her might to make as big of a poo-poo as she possibly could in her Pampers, although the truth was that she was quite out of control of her own body. Her nappy sagged again as she dumped another load into it, accompanied by a fresh wave of wee-wee, so that her baby pants hung so heavily between her thighs they were halfway down to her knees. Then, with a final grunt, Debbie straightened up.

“Mummy…” she whimpered. “Please can I have a change before… before…”

The Succubus’s face was as full of delight as Debbie’s was with horror. She approached the quivering baby woman like a predator. “No, little one,” she said, her tone mocking. “If you want your special rub-rubs today then you have to have them now, in your dirty diaper.” She shoved Debbie’s dummy back between her lips, took her by the hand, and led her over to the centre of the room. “Put teddy down here,” she said, pointing at the floor. Arms trembling, Debbie did as she was told. She felt sick with shame, but even with the horrible, babyish mess in her pants, her pussy was still burning needily. “Good girl,” said the monster, flushed with arousal. “Now you can have sex with teddy, and I can have sex with your husband.” She looked over at John. “Ready for round two?” she asked, smirking.

John grinned back and started to undo his belt as his lover strutted over to him, stripping off her clothes as she went. Meanwhile Debbie lowered herself gently to the floor, on top of her teddy bear. She nearly gagged when the poop in her diaper squished against her bottom, but she was almost too horny to care. The first thrust against teddy sent a wave of pleasure coursing through her body, and she couldn’t stop herself moaning like a slut. She heard John and the Succubus laugh, but she kept going, grinding her aching, diaper-clad pussy against her bear, picking up speed. But then she made the mistake of looking up, and although she didn’t stop humping, Debbie started to wail at the sight of the demon riding her husband’s cock. She was straddling his lap, bouncing up and down on his manhood with her head thrown back in ecstasy. “Oh, oh, ohhh!” she moaned.

Debbie felt her orgasm getting closer and closer, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the nightmare happening before her. She sucked frantically on her binky and went cross-eyed as she thrust against her teddy bear, her head dizzy with need. She was right on the edge. And then she was over it, she was cumming in her stinky, sopping wet diaper – and as she did, the Succubus looked over her shoulder with an evil smile and whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby girl…”

[sivyera]

puck and pirouette

inside out 2 riley andersen x fem!reader

a/n: i'm SO excited for inside out 2! also in this fanfic, Riley is 15+! also at the end there is a edit of Riley i found on tt, so you can imagine more how she looks like now, when she's older, credit for the edit goes to the author! also i guess this is a bit shorter fic but i still like it, enjoy

key words: rivals to lovers, secret relationship, hockey player x ice-skater

༺☆༻

In San Francisco there are lots of good winter stadions, the one where Riley played wasn't the only one, yet you and your ice-skater friends decided to take this one.

Your ice-skating practice was from 5 p.m. to 6:45 p.m., then it was hockey time.

But you and your friends always stayed a bit longer which made Riley and her team angry. But they were always 20 minutes early which distracted you and your team from practising as they were walking around, laughing and looking at you.

It was a circle of you and Riley, passing around the responsibility, arguing, giving each other mean looks and provoking each other.

Both, your and Riley's coach noticed but they though it was just a playful rivality between two young girls.

Your rivality continued even in school because to Riley's and your surprise, you both were in the same school. You sometimes left a sticker saying "i ♥️ ice-skating" on her locker, which took her weeks to wash off. In return she sometimes left her stinky socks from practise in your locker.

Or when you're doing pirouettes and she's already on the ice, she passes a puck towards you and you, in worry not to get hit, ruin the pirouette.

On the other hand when she's on the wc, you always steal her hockey stick and hide it somewhere; you always smile at her angry face when she can't find it and you already have after practice so you can leave without any aftermath.

But one time, things changed. You got sick, so you missed practice.

When she entered the winter stadion with few of her hockey friends, her eyes went immediately to the right corner of the ice, that was your favourite place. But she didn't see you there, so at first she thought you are at the bathroom but when you weren't coming after 10 minutes, she realized that you are not coming.

She though it will be perfect practice, no one will provoke her, but oh how she was wrong..

Riley and her team always came few minutes earlier and after they put their things in their hockey changing room, they went and sat on those folding chairs that were above the ice.

They were usually talking, talking about everything. About your practice, about their new dresses, about food, about everything.

But Riley was quiet. She had her head leaning against her palm, looking down at the ice, into that one right corner, your corner.

She didn't know why, but she kinda missed you. She got used to you rolling your eyes when you made eye contact with her, she got used to your evil smirk and you sticking your tongue at her when you hid her hockey stick, she got used to stealing your sleeves and blade guards. But now, now she was bored, nothing was happening.

Her friend that was sitting next to her noticed, she knew something was going on long time before. She then smirked and tapped on Riley's shoulder. "You miss her, huh?" Her friend laughed.

Riley quickly turned her head as she heard the question. It was ridiculous, she and miss you? Never.

"What!? No, my god no." Riley answered as she shook her head.

Her friend raised her eyebrow and laughed at Riley. "Yeah sure, whatever you say." Her friend continued laughing.

Riley frowned. Of course she didn't miss you. She didn't like you, she hated you, yes! Yes, she hated you. She hated your soothing voice she always heard in her head whenever she was angry. She hated your magnetizing eyes that were always looking at her. She hated the sport you were doing. She hated how elegant and gorgeous you were when you were ice-skating. She hated all of it.

At least that what she thought few days ago.

Now, here she stands with a flowers in her hands, in front of your front door. Because it didn't take her long to realize that these feelings aren't hate, but love.

You opened the door and saw Riley standing there with awkward smile that showed her bracelets.

After few extra seconds of Riley admiring how pretty you are, she cleared her throat and spoke. "Um- will you go on a date with me, please? Riley asked with a smile as she gave you those flowers she brought you.

You just smiled at took those flowers into your hands. They were beautiful and smelled amazingly.

"Yes, yes I will Riley." You answered with a smile as you gave her a quick kiss on her right cheek. That made Riley blush like crazy, her heart was pounding out of her chest but she was happy.

She finally found the courage to ask you out, to tell you that she likes you...

And it was the best decision she ever made.

"I really like y/n. She has amazing style and clothes." Disgust said as she looked at Joy who was standing next to her.

Joy nodded her head and spined in her yellow dress. "Oh yes, I love her." She said as she smiled while looking at you through Riley's mind.

"She's really kind so I liker her too." Sadness said as a small smile appeared on her face. She then went back to reading.

As Fear heard your name, he automatically nodded his head while Sadness was talking. And Anger of course had to have last word.

"Yeah, she's nice." He said as he was reading the newspaper.

[thefunkfactory]

Brotherly Love

Milan had hated having to live with his twin brother all these years, ever since they were kids Kingston used to torture Milan. He used to fart on his pillow, dangle his stinky socks over Milan’s nose while he slept, used to belch in his face constantly, etc. To put it mildly Kingston was Milan’s polar opposite, Milan was always fresh and clean, showering twice a day, changing his sheets twice a week while Kingston let his unmade sheets stew in his sweat and grime. Milan was so happy that now that the two of them had graduated that Kingston was going to be leaving home to go to Auburn in Alabama, it was a perfect school for him, he got in entirely based on his football prowess. Milan was going to be taking a gap year and saving up some extra money while he would still be living with his parents.

(Milan and Kingston)

It was a pretty normal day for Milan, he had gotten home from his job as a host and was walking into the kitchen to get something to eat. His parents were gone on a business trip and so the boys had been slowly whittling down the food in the kitchen for a few days now. Milan Kingston sitting on the couch in the living room from the kitchen eating something, opening the fridge Milan was met with a pretty sad sight, just some deli meat, condiments, and some beer. “Ughhh there is nothing to eat and Mom and Dad won't be back for two more days!” Milan groaned from the kitchen, between smacks of his lips Kingston said “Dude *smack* there is plenty *smack* of food! What are-uuuuUUUURRRP you talking about?” Walking over to the living room empty handed, Milan saw that Kingston was chowing down on his version of a charcuterie board, salami and prosciutto straight from the pack, mustard, and a beer. Grossed out by even the thought of the meal his brother was consuming, Milan lost his appetite a little. Sitting down next to his brother on the couch, Milan was asked “Where have you been all day bro?”, Milan replied with a condescending tone “I’ve been at work, something YOU can't relate to”. Milan had been forced to get a job as soon as he turned 16 “to build character” as his parents claimed but Kingston didn’t have to since apparently being the star quarterback was enough character building for his parents. “Yo bro you gotta chillax man” Kingston said in his usual moronic tone, peeved that there was no food in the house and now he had to deal with his lazy brother telling him to relax, Milan scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Smirking, Kingston said “Hey, I know a good way to let loose bro!” sticking out his finger and pointing it at his brother, Kingston droned on “Bro…pull my finger! Huhuhu”. Rolling his eyes again Milan refused, “That’s disgusting I'm not pulling your finger, besides it’s covered in meat residue and mustard” Wiping his hand on his shorts, Kingston stuck his finger back out and promised “If you pull my finger i’ll buy us a pizza”. Enticed by the deal, Milan reasoned that he could deal with his brother’s funk, he had been dealing with it for almost two decades now. “Fine…I’ll pull it, but you better buy us an extra large!” Milan grabbed his brother’s finger and gave it a tug, he heard a gurgling Kingston’s gut and then it shot out, BWOOOOOOMMMMPPPPFFFFFFFFF. Covering his nose Milan yelped “KINGSTON THAT IS FOUL WHAT DIED IN THERE?!” it stunk worse than anything his brother has produced before. As the fart trailed off and the grimace disappeared from his face Kingston responded with “Not much besides beer and meat today…”. “I’m getting away from you and your rotting gut!” Milan said as he stood up. Losing his balance Milan staggered and fell back onto the couch right from where he had gotten up. “WOAH! Bro are you okay?!” Kingston said as Milan crashed back down into the sofa. “I…ummm my head…it’s so…foggy…” Milan couldn’t figure out what was happening to him, it was so odd, he hadn’t gotten up too fast so it couldn’t be that. Milan put his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes tight, “I just…need a second…” he muttered softly. He heard more gurgling sounds coming from next to him and heard the sofa cushion move as his brother leaned away from him. Lifting his leg Kingston ripped out another noisome fart and let out a pleasure filled sigh “It’s gonna be nice to have a brother who I can get along with”. Smelling the amplified stench surrounding the two, Milan began to cough and cough “Please…stop…” he got out between coughs. Kingston heard his pleas but found no reason to stop so his gut just kept producing more and more meaty gas for him to rip, it was like pulling his finger flipped a switch in his gut. The smell brute would not stop farting especially once he could see his brother changing. Milan’s pleas for mercy ceased and he sat there next to his brother lifeless, the amount of gas that his brother produced invaded his brain and stopped Milan’s brain minus the integral functions. Milan was sitting slouched back onto the couch, eyes open and mouth hanging like a trout. Kingstop watched as his brother began to become more like him, he couldn’t help but chuckle with glee as Milan’s arms began to swell up with nice developed muscles to match his ever expanding legs. Milan’s limbs grew with muscle and just a little bit of fat. Milan couldn’t even begin to process what was happening, hell he couldn’t stop himself from drooling as it welled up behind his lip and eventually spilled over. Kingston looked on with joy and awe as his twin brother’s shirt began to rip at the seams and fall apart, his pants did the same but were just barely being held apart.

Kingston began to smell a buttery scent and his dumb mind began to wonder “Who is making popcorn?”, suddenly he realized the smell was coming from Milan’s feet, once petite and nimble, they had grown massive and klutzy but most importantly to Kingston they had grown awfully malodorous. Looking back up at his brother he realized that while his attention was focused on Milan’s rank feet, his body had changed more. Milan sat a little higher on the couch once his buttocks inflated with fat and muscle to become massive orbs that bounced as he walked. His stomach bloated into a tummy bigger than he ever had before, his chest turned into massive pecs, Milan’s neck widened into a huge thick log almost too big for his head.

Kingston caught a whiff of another unpleasant aroma, lifting his own arm he sniffed his hairy armpit, “Nope, I still stink the same” he thought. He realized that much like his brother’s feet, Milan’s pits might have matured into proper B.O. producers, not the flowery scented underarms Milan always shaved clean. Hastily lifting his brother’s arm, Kingston was met with an eye watering stench that actually surprised him. Dropping the growing boy’s arm, Kingston clenched his watering eyes and fanned his nose, “PEEEE-UUU!” Kingston exclaimed, “MANNNN YOU SMELL RIPE BRO!” he said proudly. Lifting up his arm again, Kingston wafted the stench from his brother’s rank forest of pit hair. Letting the sour stink cling in his nose, Kingston grinned and realized that he should have done this sooner.

Prouder than ever, Kingston patted his brother on the back. Once Kingston removed himself from Milan’s captivating armpit, Kingston looked at his brother’s face only to find that the cute boyish brother sitting before him was gone, a softer jawline appeared and stubble grew across his lip. His eyebrows grew thicker and untamed, and his eyes grew dull. The last noticeable changes were that his lips plumped up a slight bit more and his hair shortened on top and puffed out on the sides right above his ears. “How you feelin bro?” Kingston asked, Milan grunted, showing the first sign of intellect since Kingston gassed him. As soon as he grunted Kingston heard Milan’s gut begin to churn, and just like his revolting brother, Milan ripped the fattest and nastiest smelling fart the once dainty boy ever had. THBBTTTBBBTttbbbbsssssssst.

It flew out strong and loud and was a squeaking trumped by the end. Kingston took a deep breath of his brother’s intellect that was now nothing more that eggy vapors filling up the room. Looking at his newly minted brother he asked “Ready for that pizza bro?”, “HELL YEA BRO!” Milan shouted out “I gotta warn you tho, it’s gonna turn me into a gas machine”, “Dont worry bro I already did that for you!” Kingston joked. Furrowing his brow a confused look spread across Milan’s face “Huh?” he blurted out, “Forget about it bro just focus on being the stink-machine you always have been” Kingston told Milan. A dopey grin stretched across his face and Milan stuck out his tongue. He lifted a leg and leaned away from his brother, “You got it broooooo” and a revolting silent but deadly fart slipped out of his magnificent cheeks.

[lisenberry]

Snippy-snip of Ch. 3 of this one because I'm making myself cry as I write it and I don't want to be alone.

CW: a bittersweet goodbye.

“Here’s the keys to the truck, and to my place.  Just in case.”  He tossed a set into the bowl on the sideboard.  “I know how much you’re dying to go snooping in my cupboards.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Except you totally would. At the first opportunity.

“Afraid of what you’ll find?”

“An expired box of Earl Grey in the kitchen, perfectly sorted socks in the bedroom.  Stinky smelling beard oil in the bathroom.”  You flashed a cheeky grin at the last, in an effort to keep the tone light. 

If he could be strong, so could you.  You wouldn’t be the one to break.  No matter what you felt like on the inside.  You’d save it for when he was gone.

“Beard oil?  This is all natural.”  As if you’d insulted his manhood, he smoothed his mustache down with two hands, in a way you’d seen him do a thousand times.  He’d trained any willfulness from his facial hair with nothing but nose grease and perseverance.  Molded by time and patience, like marble cliffs and silt-shined creek beds.

“But I was right about the socks though, wasn’t I?”

“And the tea.”  He hitched his mouth into a smile and turned his focus to the gurgling baby perched on his hip, yapping and cooing like she was in on the conversation.

The way he looked at her gave you hope that he’d call it all off.  He’d sit back down on the couch and turn on the football.  Put his heavy feet up on your table and let his flight leave without him.

“I’m sure we can find some priceless antiques in there she can teeth on.”  They’d start coming in soon.  Another change he’d miss.

“Look, you don’t have to wait.”  He paused to clear the words he was looking for from his throat.  “I understand if you—”

“I just got you, John,” you cut him off, saving him from the self-sacrificing speech, and looked down at her chubby fist wrapped in a white-knuckle grip around his finger.  “You’re not getting rid of us yet.”

Don’t let go, sweetheart.  Don’t let him go.  You willed it into her with your own thoughts.

Your world had gotten so small in the last four months.  You’d gone from having a job that needed you, coworkers and clients with a network of responsibilities, down to having just one job. 

One person who needed you.

But it would’ve been a lot smaller without him.  How lonely would you have been without someone to share it all with?  How much of him had seeped into your life, and your heart?

“Be nice to your mum,” he whispered against her downy head, as he kissed her cheek and passed her back to you quickly.  Looking everywhere but at you.  “You have Kate’s number?  In case you need anything?”

You pulled him closer with your free hand to his waist, forcing him to see you. Eyes wide and blue, he looked scared. For the first time.

Anything more than a kiss to the forehead would have broken you both.  You’d already said your goodbyes the night before, and again this morning.  So, you simply tilted your head up to him, your own eyes kind and trusting, and felt his mustache graze your skin one last time.

And then you watched him go.

[oh-styles]

what are sad and harry up to now with the twins now that he’s off tour?

FAMILY TIME. (I still can't remember the twins birthdays fml but they're estimated to be 2-3 but in this piece they turned into six month olds.)

Harry absolutely loves waking up earlier than the missus on Saturday mornings, trotting downstairs in nothing more than his socks and boxers and cooking his little family breakfast. (I want to make a side note that Harry wakes up earlier than SAAF every day. She is a sleepy girl who detests mornings.)

He starts off preparing some coffee – straight black – and turns on Joni Mitchell as he pops through the cupboards, snagging plates and mugs. Pancakes are on the menu today.

It’s only twenty minutes before he hears the wines of one little girl over the baby monitor. Poppy. Much like her dad, she, too, enjoys the tranquility of mornings. He smiles to himself, setting his spatula down, and tiptoes up the stairs and down the hall, pausing in front of his daughters’ door, listening to the babbling. He wonders what she’s talking about.

“Little petal,” he whispers, peeping his nose in through the threshold. “Is that my little petal?”

A shrill giggle bellows through their bedroom, and Harry slowly creeps to his daughter’s crib, careful not to wake up the little girl still sleeping soundly.

“Okay, little petal. You know the drill.” He reaches down to pick her up. “We change your stinky little bottom, and then you come have breakfast with dad.”

His heart still jumps at the word.

“We’ll come get your sister in a little bit, okay?”

Once they’re back downstairs, he rests Poppy on his hip while he prepares a bottle. He hums along to the music, stopping every few minutes to kiss his daughter on his head – who has already rested her head on her daddy’s shoulder and is moments from drifting back to sleep. They’re both in their happy place.

He eventually decides to forgo the bottle, waiting until Poppy is awake again. He finishes up pancakes, and haphazardly tries to cut up some strawberries one-handed, stealing a couple extra pieces for himself.

He thinks about how he wants to spend the rest of the day. Maybe they can all go down to the market later or take a walk in the park. Winnie loves being snuggled up to her mum in her carrier, listening to the birds chirping. If there is a surefire way to get her to stop fussing, it’s that.

“Okay, Poptart, let’s go see mummy.” Poppy’s eyes flutter open, and her eyes dodge around the room in confusion; she must’ve forgotten she left her crib. “I’ll drop you off with mum, and then I’ll go get Winnebago.”

i didn't mean for this to get a little long, and i feel bad for not really talking about winnie but i am super tired and sleep begs for me

[yurrfttboyy]

You’re roommate was undoubtedly into women, but some of the jokes he liked to make often left you thinking he may be border-line bi. He was known for being the funny guy, so you would usually brush his jokes off, but that got harder once he found out about your foot fetish.

Since that day, he never wears shoes in the apartment anymore. You constantly find his discarded, smelly socks tossed carelessly on your bed & notes on the dining room table about once a week asking you to do his laundry for him. You could tell he was enjoying teasing you, but was too scared to have a conversation about it.

One evening you two are chilling in the living room, his bare foot is propped up on the coffee table and he looks over at you; you are staring at his foot like a bitch in heat. He chuckles, then nonchalantly says, “y’know, you could be my footslave, but there’s something you’d have to do for me”

You froze, taken back by his outburst, and then decided to find out what he meant. “What do you mean” you asked, as he took a sip of his beer and wiggled his toes.

“You ever heard of a chastity belt before?” He asked, flashing you a wicked grin. You nodded your head yes, trying to process what was going on. “You let me put one on you & keep the keys, and I promise I’ll give you more of my feet than you can handle. Every. Single. Day. And you know how stinky my socks can get. What do you say?” He teased, wiggling his toes as he spoke and making your boner flex uncontrollably.

Needless to say you agreed, although he knew you’d do just about anything to get a chance to taste his feet! But not much has changed since then, except the fact that you now spend all of your time at home pampering & adoring his big, often sweaty feet. He still brings home all kinds of girls to fuck, only now they seem to be less quiet than they used to, and he still never wears shoes in the apartment. He’s still as funny as ever with his jokes, only now his favorite thing to joke about is your inability to touch yourself and the constant chastity that you agreed to just for the ability to worship his stinky feet. He told you that you can have the keys whenever you want them, but once he gives them to you his feet will be gone from your life forever.

You and him both know that you’re never going to ask for the keys, his feet own you. He started wearing the keys on a necklace now just to further taunt you, but just the other day he made a comment about ‘tying the knot’ between you and his feet and taking a trip to the coast to throw the keys in the ocean. He joked about it like it was ‘the next step’, making it sound like a big ceremony that would bind me to his feet forever, comparing it to marriage; and all you could do was cry inside as you continued to lick his feet and pray that he wasn’t serious. You realized he was when he snapped his fingers and demanded your credit card so that he could book the room…in that moment it became clear how permanent this situation was about to become, but you still handed him the credit card and then went right back to licking his feet.

[4kurra]

Dirty laundries

Synopsis: Laundries on a Saturday was something you hated doing, especially since your "beloved" roommate didn't help out most of the time. Your hatred for that changed the moment you met a cute stranger.

Genre: GXG, non idol AU, fluff, strangers to lovers

Pairings: Im!Nayeon x Fem!Reader

Authors note: Fixed it so it doesn't look crappy LMFAO ☠️

"Momo! Your socks are so stinky I might just leave them here." I complained to my dear roommate who had looked comfy, currently sprawled out on the couch.

"That's nice Y/N, maybe they crave the lavender scent." She lazily replied.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her reply. 'At this point I'd best just pray she forgets her socks exist'

It didn't take too long for me to reach the laundry room that the school had built for the students who slept in their own dorms. Luckily, it was a Saturday meaning everyone had probably been gone to visit their families. Otherwise, it'd be a lot crowded.

"Shit! Jihyo is gonna be mad at me." An unfamiliar had basically yelled, mumbling curse words right after.

I could see that she was struggling but I had my own share of clothes to finish and ignored it. I realized that I would still have to help the moment we made eye contact and she smiled almost as if I was some kind of life saver.

"Hey you! Could you please help me here? This is my first time doing this.." The stranger in front of me whispered the last words in a guilty tone, refusing to make eye contact.

I took the opportunity to study her features and realized how pretty she actually was. It seems she caught what I was doing when she sent a teasing grin.

"Staring might have you catch feelings." I was taken aback at her sudden straightforwardness before trying to read her expression in hopes that she was just joking.

I crossed my arms and gave myself time to think about either leaving a pretty stranger to do work that she had never done or selfishly do my own and live my whole life in regrets.

I gave a reply, given she had been patiently waiting like one of those golden retrievers. "Sure, but you do not wanna be combining pink and white unless you like the color."

She couldn't help herself but chuckle, almost as if she thought I was joking. She stopped the moment she realized I wasn't.

"Oh you're not joking.. I'm Nayeon by the way, you?" She asked, taking her hand out in hopes of having mine shake hers.

"Y/N." I shortly replied, shaking her hand.

Nayeon nodded, repeating what I had just said to make sure she wouldn't get it wrong and I swear I could have seen the cutest pair of bunny teeth's.

"Well captain, how's this gonna work?" Nayeon had asked me, still showing her bunny teeth's, almost as if she was flexing them.

I gave her instructions and she followed along like an expert. It didn't take too long for the machine to wash her clothes and have her worries disappear.

"I'd better get to mines," I tried to head to the original spot that I had chosen for myself but failed the moment she grabbed onto my hands.

"Huh?" She ignored the confused look on my face and opened her mouth to say something. "Maybe I could help you? You did help me."

I nodded, feeling a bit lazy after explaining what goes where to her and I gotta admit it was kinda frustrating. She did an amazing work, almost as if I didn't help her at all and it didn't take too long before the machine to also spin.

"Thanks." I sighed, wiping the sweat that managed to slide down my forehead.

"Don't mention it." She calmly replied without trying to wipe the non-existent sweats off of her face.

I took my basket, getting ready to leave until she once again stopped me. "Hey by the way, I was wondering if you'd like to hang sometimes?"

I smiled for the first time at her question. "Are you saying there's better places than this?"

"Mm.. maybe." Nayeon laughed at her own reply and I couldn't help myself but laugh along.

Finally managing to calm ourselves down, we both gave each others phone number and as our hands brushed against one another. That was probably my cue to thank Momo and her lazy ass.

[spacemancharisma]

Hey you said feel free to ask hygiene questions. How often should you be doing stuff? Like showering, washing hair, washing bedding? Washing re-wearable clothing like jeans or jackets or bras that I think you can wear multiple times without needing to wash?

Idk other esp hygiene or cleaning activities that you need to do sometimes.

Like they tell you brush your teeth twice a day but not how often you need to wash other things.

yeah this is a really good question! I’m putting it under the cut since it got p long lol

so showering is ideally every day, but that can be difficult for some people, so as close to that as you can manage is good. if you have days that it’s too much, wiping down with a rag or a baby wipe is good. be sure to thoroughly clean your genitals/butthole every night before bed, just for your health. on baby wipe days, i get that whole zone really clean, and also my armpits, feet, and anywhere my skin folds over bc sweat tends to trap there. wash your face well at least once a day (I do it in the shower) and if you’re up to it, give it a good scrub with just water at the other end of the day. there’s no hygiene gain or loss from shaving any part of your body, so do that as much or little as is your preference. I put on deodorant at least twice a day (when I wake up & after I shower), or whenever I’m feeling sweaty/stinky.

washing your hair really depends on its length and texture and I can only speak to white person hair care, but as far as that goes- I have thick, curly hair, and I wash it every 2-3 days. people with greasier hair tend to wash it more often. like with most things, a good test is to wash whenever it starts to have a smell, or more frequently than that lol. comb your hair out when you wash it to keep it from getting matted. people with straight hair brush it dry, too, but that isn’t something I do personally.

clothes go by the smell principle too, mostly. shirts can get two or three wears unless they’re sweaty/stained/stinky. pants made of a thick material can usually last a week, though some people stretch their jeans out even more if they’re good material. again- if it starts to have a smell, put it in the laundry. bras are also good for a week or so at a time as long as they’re not stinky. jackets and stuff go by the same principle, and they last a long time usually, since they don’t touch your skin directly. underwear should be changed at least once a day and not reworn, same with socks.

washcloths should only be used once, but bath towels can get two or three uses. hand towels should be switched/washed about once a week.

people tell you to change/wash your bedsheets once a week but I don’t know anyone who does that lmao. changing your sheets every two weeks or so is usually good; you might want to do so more frequently though if you’re sick or eating in bed or having a lot of sex or something hfbggjg

like you said, brushing your teeth is standard once in the morning and once at night. if you want to do a bonus one halfway through the day, that’s probably good for you, but most people don’t. brush your tongue when you brush your teeth- it only takes a couple seconds and it does a lot apparently. get a new toothbrush at least every 6 months, if not more often.

body chores: clip your finger/toenails as often as works best for you. I can’t stand having long nails so I trim them once a week, but that would obvs be different if you like long nails. floss as often as you can, but don’t feel bad if you’re not consistent- very few people are. put lotion on your body if your skin gets dry- I recommend aveeno, it’s not greasy and it works really well. if you have sex toys, clean them before and after every use (it’s a pain but you do Not want to fuck with any kind of germs down there).

household chores: clean toilet- once a week. clean bathroom sinks/tub: once a month (clean mirrors while you’re at it). empty trash cans- once a week. clean kitchen counters- every time you cook. clean stovetop- once a week. dust- once a month but this one’s kinda optional lmao. laundry- before you run out of clean clothes/towels. dishes- before you run out of clean dishes. floors- my family vacuumed/swept once a week growing up but as an adult I just kinda follow my heart here lol. change pet litter- at least once a week.

health: you’re supposed to see your GP once a year for a regular health check, and that’s good to get blood work done to make sure your hormones and such are all balanced, but it’s okay if you don’t keep a super strict schedule with that. dentists you really should see once every 6 months, or at least once a year. if you have a uterus, get a pap smear done every 5 years. get checked for STIs with each new partner, or once a year. keep track of your period if you have one so you know if there are irregularities; change tampons/pads as needed, you know best, but remember to never sleep with a tampon in. give yourself a breast self-exam at least once every few months, if applicable. drink water consistently throughout the day, listen to your body and eat when you’re hungry, try to have at least one fruit or vegetable a day (doesn’t have to be whole/raw, just get those nutrients where you can). the average number of times in a day to pee is apparently 6-7, but I’d say anywhere from 5-10 is normal, idk I’m not a pee expert. either way, stay aware of your body and it’s needs and don’t hold your pee if you have literally any other options- your kidneys are important and that hurts them. you should poop 1-2 times a day, not accounting for any health conditions that might change that. do your best to get 8-9 hours of sleep a night, and get your body in motion for at least 30 minutes a day- this could be a gentle walk or even doing household chores, the important thing is to keep your muscles and joints flexible. do some basic stretches once a day.

and some closing remarks- I’m really proud of you for reaching out to ask, cause I know it can be really hard to talk about this stuff. there’s absolutely no shame in ignorance, and similarly, there is no shame in being dirty/smelly. as humans, we tend to keep ourselves and our surroundings clean because it’s better for our health and our sensory experience, and it makes us more pleasant for others to be around, but it’s important to remember that none of this is a moral imperative. I grew up in a house that made it seem like you were a bad person if you were dirty or you smelled like BO, and that’s not a healthy or accurate approach to things. keeping proper hygiene when you can is important, but because it makes your life more pleasant to live, not because it’s a sin or a slight to do otherwise. just do your best to take care of yourself, and you’re doing great 💜

[dollsonmain]

That Guy and I have straight up fights about the stinky washing machine.

My best guess as to why it stinks is that the drain water isn't all draining since the pipe goes straight up to a wall drain, and is instead falling back into the basin where it festers. It's a sulfur smell, so bacterial.

We do not use too much soap, nor any liquid fabric softener.

That Guy insists that it stinks no matter what, but that's not true.

My observations:

100% of the time that the lid is left closed and the laundry room door left closed, it stinks.

Sometimes when everything is left open it stinks.

100% of the time after That Guy does his laundry it stinks regardless of whether it's left closed or open.

When I do That Guy's laundry, though, it does not stink. I'll come back to that.

Sometimes after Son does his laundry it stinks.

Sometimes after I do the sheets (only thing that gets washed on hot) it stinks.

Rarely does it stink after I do my laundry.

It does not stink after I wash my cleaning cloths, even ones used in the bathroom or on stinky ponies.

I've been trying to figure out why it's inconsistent.

That Guy does his laundry once or twice a month, meaning it sits in his basket a long time before it's washed. He showers daily (except on the weekends) and changes clothes daily. One HUGE load. When he does laundry he'll put it in the wash in the early afternoon and then leave it there closed up until bed time when he puts it in the dryer. It'll sit in the dryer until someone else takes it out and gets dumped on his floor in the closet.

Son does his laundry once a week. He showers every other day and changes clothes every other day. A moderately-sized load. Son moves the laundry to the dryer immediately or very soon and then puts it away immediately when it's done in the dryer.

I do my laundry two or three times per week, shower every other day (or else my skin falls off), change clothes every other day. Small loads. Immediately from washer to dryer except hang-dry items, then from dryer to being put away.

When I do That Guy's laundry, it's small loads throughout the week, immediate processing.

The most obvious difference is the load size with second-most being how long between the garment being worn and it being washed, and third being how long it sits in either the washer or dryer before being moved.

A less obvious thing could be That Guy carrying some nasty bacteria which could have been what infected my kidneys. it's an atypical bacteria to find in the human body but commonly found in dirt and I have to be very careful of UTI, yeast infections, and bacterial vaginitis after sex with him because it's frequent. I was doing great after that month and a half of antibiotics but the first instance of sex with That Guy and it all went to hell again.

In all cases, running a disinfecting washing machine cleaner tab gets rid of the smell.

I would be agreeable to leaving the laundry room closed up if we had a vent fan installed in there that we could run but if it's all closed up then the machine can't dry out at all, which is that 100% chance of stinky when left closed.

-

Related-ish but when I pulled his laundry out of the washer yesterday, his pants were absolutely covered inside and out with white gunk. Some of it would rub off if I touched it but it was pretty stuck on everywhere. Maybe it was lint from his socks or t-shirts. He washes everything together. I re-washed his pants and the water was brown (this washing machine is VERY BAD at keeping the laundry inside balanced and I have to adjust it constantly). I don't think he's been doing a great job of actually getting his clothes clean.

[thestreamweaver]

Morning shenanigans'

7:30 am

Ororo looked at the clock and was shocked that they’d slept till now, she sat up and stretched, then looked to Logan who was still asleep beside her.

“Logan… Logan babe we gotta get up.” She said shaking him lightly, he opened one eye tiredly, then turned over mumbling something.

“It’s 7:30 Logan, the kids have to leave in half an hour.”

“Herrrgh…” he made a strange noise, then rose up partially out of the bed, but just enough to turn himself over and fall on his chest right where he’d slept.

Realizing he wasn’t going to get up of his own will without some encouragement she knew just what to do. Getting up she went to one of the kid’s rooms and got a dirty stinky sock, then went back into their room and put it directly on top of his nose. She smirked, then turned and started dressing for the day.

“Aah!” she heard behind her as her husband spit out the sock and then involuntarily flung himself onto the floor, she had to stifle a laugh hearing the thud.

She looked back to him, the look on his face was a mix of why and how dare you, he then held up the sock so she could plainly see it.

“Really…” He asked looking unamused,

“You were not waking up my love.” She countered turning to face him,

“Oh… so the mistress of the elements had to hit me with my son’s sock!?”

“Well I could’ve struck you with lightning if that’s what you wanted.” He smirked at her,

“Nah,” He joined her in changing.

After they’d finished that part of their morning he decided to turn the tables on her a bit. Grabbing the sock he put it on her head as she combed her hair, seeing the sock land in her mane she gasped in mock shock as if she was appalled at him, he snickered at her reaction.

Getting out of their room they were surprised to see the kids were already ready for school, breakfast had been made, their bags were packed, and Evan was helping Ayotunde with some of his math homework that hadn't been done yet. The couple looked at each other with a 'well what do we have here' look.

"Hey Mom and Dad!" Jessie their oldest daughter said happily as she went to get something from the fridge.

"Did you get breakfast ready?" Ororo asked her, she nodded,

"Mhmm, When I got up and saw that you two were still sleeping I figured I'd take care of breakfast and getting us ready for school so you guys could sleep in today." She finished getting herself a sandwich ready to go.

"Nice job kid." Her dad said proud, then turned to the woman at his side giving her the 'and you just had to shove a filthy sock up my nose' look.

"Is everything ok?" She asked wondering if something was off, they both smiled to her and before her mother could say anything her dad explained that morning.

"Yeah, your mother just decided it would be a good idea to wake me up by shoving your little brothers dirty sock in my mouth..."

"I did not put it inside your mouth."

"Well then how did it get there..."

"You sucked it in when you were snoring." He shot a 'really?' look at her, and she shot a 'are you sure you want to start this?' look back at him.

"How would that happen?" He said exasperated with a 'wtf' look

"The same way that people who fall asleep with gum in their mouth wake up with it in their hair..." She retorted not giving him any more room for argument.

He mocked her behind her back moving his mouth and expressions to mimic her in a silly way. She turned her head to him knowing his actions though he denied it in a stoic expression.

"I did not tell you to mock me behind my back" He didn't respond knowing that she knew what he did, her powers had evolved to be even more sensitive than usual since they had kids.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

424 of 2023

lets-make-surveys posted this

1 - Surveys aside, do you use Tumblr for any other reason?

I have a personal blog and another side blog I run together with my sister, dedicated to our OCs.

2 - Do you have a lot of social media accounts? Do you update them all regularly?

I have a YouTube channel and an Instagram account, both updated fairly often. My Instagram is dedicated only to my photography.

3 - Does it bother you when your socks don’t match? What about your underwear?

How can I have "matching underwear"? Matching to socks or what? Anyway, I like my socks in pairs, and for the rest I don't care, as long as it's clean.

4 - How many times a year do you go on vacation? Do you tend to go to the same places each time?

zAt least once a year, this time we went three times. We alays go to the same place in Poland.

5 - How many times did it take you to pass your driving test?

I don't have a licence due to chronic neurological issues.

6 - When you’re in trouble, do your parents ever “middle name” you?

What? I don't understand this question.

7 - Which family member do you look like the most? Which one do you resemble the most in terms of personality?

I look like my dad with my mum's nose (we both have a little bump on our noses), and my personality is a bit like my dad and paternal grandpa, but mostly like my late paternal grandma.

8 - Have you ever been arrested?

No, I haven't.

9 - Do you prefer Apple or Android?

Android all the way.

10 - Does getting sweaty or dirty bother you at all? If so, has it ever put you off doing exercise?

Dirty doesn't that much, but being sweaty and stinky is a nightmare to me. No, iot doesn't put me off exercising.

11 - Have you ever broken a bone? What were the circumstances that led to this happening?

No, I haven't. My bones are ridiculously strong.

12 - If you could change one thing about your appearance, what would it be?

Everything. Does it count as one thing?

13 - When was the last time your computer crashed or froze? is this something that happens often?

Two days ago and no, it doesn't happen often.

14 - Do you ever have problems with your sleep?

Sometimes, but this has improved since I started taking antidepressants again.

15 - What was the last thing you ate for breakfast? Is this a normal breakfast meal for you?

Rice pudding and no, it's usually oatmeal or cereals.

16 - Have you ever thought about how you want to spend your retirement?

If I ever make it to that point lol. I'd love to travel more.

17 - When was the last time you got a new tattoo or piercing? Do you have any plans to get either in the future?

Last tattoo I got in January this year and yes, I have plans for several tattoos already. For piercings, I want more ear piercings, and the last one I got was having my eyebrow redone.

18 - How would you describe your personality?

Hardworking, ambitious, funny, friendly, anxious.

19 - Have you ever heard of “hygge”? is this something you enjoy or participate in at all?

I have heard it, but I still didn't grasp the whole concept of it.

20 - What colour was the last vehicle you travelled in? Does this vehicle belong to you or someone else?

Black, and it legally belongs to my husband.

21 - Would you describe yourself as healthy? Why or why not?

I have chronic neurological issues and a physical disability, it speaks for itself.

22 - Would you describe yourself as messy or organised? Is this something you would like to change?

It depends on whichg area we're talking about. In general, I tend to be pretty messy, but at work, I'm definitely organised. The apps in my phone are organised, too.

23 - Do you miss anything about being a teenager? If you are a teenager, what’s your favourite thing about it?

I miss having better health and not having real problems. Even more so, being a child.

24 - Are you patriotic at all? Why/why not?

I am, but I can't exactly pinpoint why. I just love my weird little country.

25 - Have you ever had to wear a white lab coat before? Was this in school or for a job?

No, I haven't. I haven't had the chance.

26 - Would you ever want to do the same career(s) as your parents?

Lol my mum doesn't even have a career XD my dad was first NMBS- and then Infrabel worker, so he's been always tied to trains. I work in Alstom, which is a rolling stock company, so I kinda "continue the tradition", just from another perspective. TO clarify, NMBS is Belgian Railways, Infrabel is a railway maintenance company, and Alstom... I just said what it is. :P

27 - Do you believe in aliens? Is there a reason why (or why not)?

It's hard for me to believe we're all alone in the universe, because the universe is just too big.

28 - Which animated film would you most like to live in?

None, I'm not interested in any movies.

29 - When was the last time you got into an argument? Have you made up with that person yet?

Yesterday with my husband and yes, we made up.

30 - What are you going to do now this survey is over?

Probably another one, but I'm gonna go to the shower first.

[ourmadmusings]

Pointed Lesson (Pt.5)

Words: 2k+

Type: Worldbuilding and plot

Summary: It’s a slow day at home, chores to do, wounds to clean. You know how it is. 

Warnings: None. 

PART ONE

“-and all I can feel, is the feeling that we’ll never say hi if ever we pass, my dearest, you know all good things must come to an end.” 

---

It’s a couple more days before you can muster the courage to sit up, and a slow one after that before you’re swinging your socked feet over the edge of your bed and hoisting yourself up. You waddle over with a sturdy hand trailing over every surface to support your weight, you felt like someone planted concrete deep in your guts, but you’d cut yourself off of the painkillers that fluffed cotton in your skull and made the days melt by, you were sick of mandatory bed-rest. Your knees were starting to itch for some movement. 

You lean down, careful to bend at the knees and not the hips, to turn your generator on, then push the knob in until your stove click-click-clicks alive. It's tough to haul pot after pot of water from your sink, to the stove, then over to your tub. You’re careful to keep an eye on the singed pot as it heats, but you take some time to finally clean the gauze from your bathroom - the black-stained spots were stubborn on your porous porcelain, but the sight made you anxious, and anyways, idle hands and whatnot. 

Pot number five splashes over the lip and you’re reaching over to turn the faucet to let the cold water fill the rest - that'll have to do for now. You swirl the water with an open palm and stand to your full height flicking some water off. The day is brighter, the sun making a rare appearance in Gotham. You wander out to turn the stereo on, placing an old record on the spindle and leaving the needle to scratch to life. It fills your small home with a sweet melody. You shut your eyes and listen, it wraps around you for just a little second.

Sling first, tipped over your head and left on the sink. You struggle to pull your stinky shirt over your head with a single arm, carefully slipping it around your shoulder - mind the gap - and you toss it onto the floor. You shuck the underwear you have and leave it in the heap with your shirt. Socks are next. The cold has settled into your joints a bit, but you lift a leg and plop with little grace into the stained tub. You should clean it with the powdered bleach under the sink, but you couldn’t be bothered just yet. A good task for another day, you think. You can’t lean all the way back, you’re very aware of the too-large gauze taped to your chapped shoulder - someone has been changing it for you, you assume. Someone will have to come help you untie the string keeping you together, too. You feel like a rag-doll. You chuckle for the first time in over a month, and you let your eyes shut peacefully for once. The first time in weeks. You’re tired.  

You haven't caught a glimpse of your Batty since he’d given you instructions and left you to fend for yourself. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, perhaps he really had just seen you as a child to babysit. It’s a spoiled, sad idea, but you know that the reality of a life like this isn’t typically regarded fondly. Him keeping some distance was probably a good thing. He couldn’t get caught coming and going from a stale old building. You’re squatting here, but the police that rolled through never stopped to inspect the wires, the lights, the smells. Bigger fish to fry. Fine by you. Gift horses and mouths, you know the rest. 

You take a long time to wash. The thought of a shower passed by you but you squashed it just as fast as it came, you only had cold water running in your pipes, and however good for you the internet said it was, you’d be damned before you tried to stand the ice-water on your back today. 

You wonder about that old cat that sat by your window some nights, you hope Batty had seen the cans of food and tried to leave a few for him. 

You’re careful around the medical tape, not willing to get it wet yet. You’d clean it with a rag later, with fresh water from your tap. You turn your torso to your right and angle your shoulder down into the water, dipping your head under the hot steam. You did your best to shampoo, but you skipped the conditioner this time around. 

You’re slow to rise from the warmth, knowing your cold home waited for you beyond the curled lip of the tub. A slow hand wrings out water from your hair. 

You often convince yourself that you’d grown accustomed to the near-frigid temperatures, but you relished in the heat of the water enough to know you were lying to yourself. You can feel the warmth bloom in your cheeks and your fingers are properly pruned by the time you drag your bones from the wash. Clean felt good after the week spent in bed. You’re spreading some lotion over the skin you can reach without tugging your shoulder too much when you notice the small pock marks in the crook of your arm. An IV had to have been stuck there at some point, you picked a little at the scab that had formed. You wonder what kind of people your Bat knows to provide this level of care. You absolutely don’t want to be in his bank-book if he expects you to pay him back for the expensive care he gave. 

You try not to let it crawl under your skin but the thought clings to the mirror along with the steam: how many people have seen you without a mask now? 

You wipe it off and let the drip run up your arm. 

You hear your record bump off the needle as the track ends. A thin towel dries your hair and wraps itself around you.

You let heavy legs carry you out of your bathroom, leaning your weight on your table and you stare at your empty bed. 

Your things seemed untouched as you wander to grab another old shirt from a drawer and try your best to tug it over wet hair, thinking to remember to not leave your towel over your chair again - it’s starting to smell bad with mildew and bleach can only fix it so often.

You hadn’t gotten the hang of everything yet, doing things one-handed, but the heavy threat of Batty’s bed rest order makes you worry about even removing your arm from the sling for any longer than it takes to take a bath and put your shirt on. The sling is thrown back over your neck, and your arm is tucked snug in its bed. The towel is folded neatly and stuck over your rack.

It’s a quiet knock on your door that makes you jump - ouch - a hand on your shoulder and you pad to the door. It felt oddly mundane to twist the handle and hear the door slap against the security chain locked into place. A man is standing behind it as you think ma- “I’m sorry, I don’t think my knees can bear the climb up the escape, may I?” He’s got brown bags in his hands, a sweet smile, and he tilts his head towards your door, asking his way in. He’s dressed too sharply to be from around here, polished oxfords, pressed trousers, and a blazer to boot. 

You don’t move.

“My name is Chester,” he’s lying, “I’m a close friend of Batman, you don’t have to worry.” But you doubt anyone else knows about your relationship with your Bat, so you relent. 

You shut the door, unlatch, and pull it open. He smiles again at you and you feel your eyebrows pull together - it seemed so genuine. Relieved, even as he’s through the threshold. He breezes past you like he’s been here before - oh. He’s probably the man Batty had tried to get you to see. The one who knows about discretion. 

He’s quick to set bags on your small counter and he starts pulling small bags of produce from them. Carrots, an onion, the rub. You hear your feet pad over and feel your head tilt. “I hope you don’t mind, but our friend said your fridge was…More than bare. Call it a get-well gift.” He’s got the edges of an accent and the ever-present smile. “A full stomach helps the heart heal, you know.” He hasn’t stopped unpacking bags and re-packing things into your fridge as he speaks. You’re standing just out of his way, you really don’t know what to say to him. You feel kind of bad for that. 

He’s dusting his hands of imaginary dirt as he turns to you. He seems almost jovial as he asks you to sit down and take your shirt off. Your face is red and eyes wide in an instant and he laughs. You relish in the sound just a little, bubbles find their way to the base of your throat. You haven’t heard a genuine laugh in a long while, “I want to check your shoulder, if you don’t mind, I’d like to change the wrap and give it a quick clean.” Oh, yeah. 

You sink down in your chair and he makes quick work of untying the sling, you shrug the hem of your shirt up and he busies himself with the tape. It stings as it pulls from the raw skin and you wince. “Lotion will help that,” it’s quiet. He reaches over himself, a cold alcohol pad around the whole area and a tube of cream from your bedside. Smearing it over the cut, he makes just as quick work tearing a paper baggy of gauze and tugging some tape from the roll, “all patched up,” he says with a hand on your other shoulder, thumping it a little. He seems so comfortable, it’s kind of nice. Normal. It burns a little to think that. 

“How have you been feeling? I trust you’re well, those pills could kill a horse.” Another quick smile, ”and from the look of things, you needed every dose.” He’s eyeing your small hoard, he doesn’t miss the half-full pain killers, but his protests die on his tongue at the almost-empty antibiotics. Pick your battles, he supposes. A lesson he’s learned well over the years. 

“Oh, ah-” it’s almost awkward to hear your own voice in your head, “I’m fine, really. Up and running.” A smile graces your lips at his maybe-almost-kind-of genuine concern for you, but you don’t know what else to say to him. You’re grateful he seems to be okay with doing most of the talking - he must know your Batman in that case, you think to yourself. 

“Perfect. I hope I’ve gotten you food you’ll actually eat, with the state of things, it was hard to glean what you preferred,” he’s folding his hands in front of him, “but, I’ve got to get back - a laundry list of work today. You’ll call if you need anything, I trust.” Call whom? 

You just nod your head, “right. Well then, you know to drink some water, and please do try to get a real meal tonight. We’ll see you soon.” And he’s gone in a breeze. Out the door and gone just as fast as he came. It’s a lot more quiet now. Your ears ring a little.

You’re cold. 

You kick on an old space heater you keep for the deep winters and push it over near your bed, you take some time to heat up your old pan and toss some onion inside, along with a breast of chicken. It’s more than bland, but it’ll do for now. 

The day passes quickly after that and you’re in bed with your little red pill and a glass of water when you hear the thumps of heavy boots on metal just outside your window. 

You almost think you feel the bubbles of excitement in your guts, but you settle on the ache of anxiety instead. He’s in your window and at the foot of your bed, looming as always. He turns to your small stove and nods, a silent conversation in his own head you suppose. “Better?” It’s short and gruff. You feel a small sliver of disappointment at his curt attitude. What else from your big, bad Bat?

“Of course, Batty baby, how could I be doing poorly with such a charmer at my bedside.” You’re trying not to sound ungrateful. It’s a weird shift in the air, the change in dynamic. You owe him now, big time. The idea swirls around, pushed through the air with the help of your small heater. “Thanks.” It’s your turn to be quiet, hoping maybe he won’t hear you, “thank you, for helping me.” 

It looks like a small smile tugs his lips, but that couldn’t be. Not your big, bad Batty. 

“Of course,” hushed as always, “anytime you need it.” His eyes bore into you again, the habit has stopped raising hair on your arm, but it still makes you tug at your blankets, knot the fabric around your cold fingers. “Do you need anything else? Al-” it’s cut off with a cough, “Chester…said he dropped by.” The words don’t seem to fit right in his mouth. The name was a fake. You’re not on as even ground as Batman had let you think, good to know.

“Oh yeah, it’s a wonder a guy like that can stand to hang around a dude like you, how’d you find him?” You’re smiling at him, “he’s like the antithesis of you.” You don’t mean to tease him, but you can’t help it. Your Bat cracks a very relative grin, a hand ghosts his neck as he speaks, “he’s an old acquaintance. He won’t spread any rumors, if you’re still worried about that.” 

It cracks the light atmosphere like a hammer on the head of a glass doll. “Even if he did, what can I do?” There's bitterness in your voice again. “Half of Gotham’s seen me at this point.” You’re being dramatic, but the itch on your forehead where your mask usually sits can’t be scratched. “What happened to my suit, Batty?” He’s been dodging that question since square one. 

“It’s ruined.” Plain and simple. The air leaves you again. Your eyebrows twitch up and fall back into place. It’s your turn to be short. You huff like a child. “Of course it is.” 

“I, ooh - I’m sorry.” The man behind the mask makes his rare appearance. “We had to tear it off to get to your shoulder, you…didn’t ah, make the task easy.” You’re not sure what he means by that, but you’re not going to ask. 

It was more money than you had at the time to get your hands on that suit. More money than you have now, for that matter. You’re staring at his bare chin, his jaw is working over itself, grinding the teeth slowly, you’re sure he’s waiting for you to yell at him or something, but how could you? You’re not so entitled to throw a fit after he’s saved your life. “Well, spit in one hand, wish in the other, right?” You’re tired. You can hear it tugging your words, you’re too tired to fight with him again. 

You’re too tired to get mad while he stares through you, again, more like it. “Did he-” he stops himself, looking over to your small counter, “did he get the cat food..?” It’s sheepish, like he’s trying to regain some footing with you and it comes from left field. You guffaw, you let out such a laugh that it almost scares him, you think. His head snaps back to your face so quickly you’re worried he’d hurt himself with eyes as wide as the moon, has he not heard you laugh like this before? “Y’know, I’m not sure. I got a few cans stashed away though, don’t worry.” You hurt your shoulder a little from laughing for the first time in a lifetime. 

You’re wiping an imaginary tear from your cheek when you remember suddenly - “y’know, that note? The one on the case, I think that one was for me too, ”you’re suddenly serious again. You’d had more than enough time to ruminate, but no time to talk these days. “You didn’t happen to see the guy that got me, did you? The one with the knife?”

You see the gears working in his head, he’s really thinking, jaw running over itself again - “no, I didn’t,” he says. Kill confirmed. 

“I didn’t either, isn’t that awfully convenient? They all ran out in the same direction, but there was only that bird-boy and two of his guys, I don’t imagine that would’ve been hard work for even one of us to handle.” You trail off, hoping he can connect the dots, “but somehow I still got the short end, how could that’ve been?” 

His eyes are all over, looking your small apartment over, if he had brows you can imagine they’d be pulled tight, “and what do you think ‘caged,’ meant? Cause I really think whoever that was knew I’d be down. I don’t think he meant the few days beforehand, I think he meant just this last few days in bed.” 

You’d been thinking a lot about it, the empty envelope wasn’t devoid of a riddle. The answer to the riddle was in the phrase. “I think whoever this guy is thinks he’s so slick an-”

“You can’t stay here anymore.” His eyes are sharp on your skull. He’s got it. “You don’t think he was trying to get me down for the count?” Obviously, this wasn’t about you - this was about your Batty. He wanted to see if he’d put his ass on the line to keep you safe -- hook, line, and sinker. He took the bait like a fish on the reel, and now you’re worried this quack knows where you live. He knows your plainclothes, he knows you. He also knows your Bat has been hanging around here. You’re both sitting ducks. 

“Well, fuck me running.” Alfred is quick in his ear.

a/n: welcome to the clown show, fuckers. 

[myfriendsstinkyfeet]

At the end of a long exhausting day, my boyfriend decided to take a break and send me some pictures to prepare me for his return home 😏

Sending me this photo of some new work shoes, he captioned, "These shoes may be new, but I'm sure they'll quickly soak up the smell of my stinky feet, they're making me sweat! Get ready! your nose mon Chéri, the smell might drive you crazy!"😜

He added, "It doesn't stop there! I intend to make you yearn before I get home!"

"The smell is already very strong Chéri! Your nose might suffocate with this male scent! You're going to be totally addicted to it! I can feel it! You're not a foot lover for nothing!" 😏

At this moment, in my jeans it's boiling! 😅 I can't wait for him to show me how much his feet stink! To believe that he reads my thoughts, he sent me a last photo:

😍🤤

He knows how to drive me totally crazy on his feet and he loves it!

"I know right now you're bubbling with the desire to feel that hot, sweaty, stinky foot! It's been an extremely busy day, and you know how much I love rubbing my filthy feet all over your sweet face. while playing with your peacock! I haven't changed my socks in over a month!I hope your nose is ready for what lies ahead..."😏

#Tom'sFeet

[dapandapod]

Domesticity

Hi there! Last one for today, I promies! Because this is the final one of my fluff prompts, this one from card 4, for @thepassifloradiscord team bingo! The prompt this time was Domesticity, which I hope I managed.... Please enjoy some soft boys!

On Ao3 here

Say what you want about the friendship between the witcher and his bard. They have had their ups and downs (interestingly enough their downs have been on ups, think mountains) but so has everyone. 

So what if Jaskier’s best friend replacement was a few mice. So what if Geralt only can process one emotion at the time. They are working on it.

Point is, they have spent a lot of time together, on the road and in small spaces. 

They know how to be around each other. They have habits and patterns and annoying quirks that they probably should talk about for the sake of peace have chosen to deal with in passive aggressive silence.

Nobody’s perfect.

Even worse now, as they are camping out in a small cabin in the woods for the sake of a contract, and for a really huge fucking downpour that just doesn’t let up. The cabin is made of two rooms, the main room with a smaller cooking corner and a bedroom. Of course there is only one bed, and before they came to terms with that this weather is going to keep them inside for a while, they took turns on the floor. 

It wasn’t too bad to begin with, meaning, it wasn’t too bad when Geralt had the floor and Jaskier slept on the bed, but as soon as that changed, Jaskier thought better of it.

“Maybe we should share.” He had proposed, and that was that. It only took them three hours to figure out how to share without making it awkward. 

Meaning, it took them three hours to get used to the thought of being incredibly awkward and either deal with the other’s stinky feet in their face, or their butts touching. 

Or spooning.

They are on day four on their camping out, and their first shared night in bed. Jaskier wakes up warm and comfortable, way better than the stupid floor. His eyes remain closed, and he feels snug and warm, warmer than he has been in a while. It’s nice.

Doesn’t smell that nice though, he thinks, as he dives deeper under the covers, and realizes his nose is touching something. Someone. 

Someone who stinks of sweat and horse and onion, who’s bare skin is touching his nose, judging by the texture also a certain amount of chest hair.

Fuck.

That also explains the weight thrown over his side, and why his right arm is asleep. Geralt and Jaskier have snuggled together during the night, and Jaskier now is awake to deal with the consequences. Remember that One-Emotion-At-The-Time thing? Yeah.

It seems like the witcher isn’t awake yet though, judging by how Jaskier is still allowed close. It is warm and comfortable, and very hard to do extract himself like he probably should. 

The rain is still beating against the roof, and even if the blanket is a little scratchy it is still very nice and warm. His eyelids are heavy, and he only allows himself another minute or two or possibly three until he finally sighs and wriggles free.

No matter how he longs to stay, it will be easier for them both. Maybe one day, he muses, might he be allowed to stay. One day.

Carefully he stands up from the bed, tucking the blanket closer around Geralt, who immediately grabs one of the pillows to hold. It is terribly cute, and Jaskier hides his smile behind his hand as he stands up and starts looking for his socks. 

They can't have gotten far.

It is still early, the light slightly gray still through the small windows along the cabins far wall. The rooms are still neat and tidy, the years of being on the road together making them put their things in order for the next day, despite Jaskier's best effort. 

Had Jaskier been on his lonesome, it would absolutely have been more than a sock lost in corners, piles on chairs, stacks on the floor. You know. Poet style.

Problem with the cabin being neat, however, is that now Jaskier doesn't have anything to do. He obviously can't go outside, or well, he can, but he won't, let Geralt take care of his horse, wherever she is, but Jaskier won't go outside. He got nothing to clean, it is still just a little too dark to sketch or write, and if he picks up his lute, Geralt will wake up.

It might be too early for creation, yes, but is it too early for food? Never.

There is not much in the cabin, barely plates for two and a fork each, and their own rations are thinning out, but there is enough for it to give him something to chew on. The fire has burned low, but it doesn't take much to get it going again and putting a little pot of water on top of it. 

There is this new herbal blend that Jaskier has meant to try that he found in Novigrad but didn't have the time to enjoy yet.

He hums under his breath as he puts the herbs in the now boiling water, a little melody he has been working on that just can’t seem to leave him. It smells heavenly, and when he turns to find cups or .. bowls or anything to drink it from, he startles when he finds Geralt leaning in the doorway, looking at him.

His arms are crossed over his bare chest, hair untied and unruly, side of his head leaning against the wall. Geralt is smiling at him. Softly.

It leaves Jaskier a little tongue tied for a moment. Geralt doesn't just... look at him like that. At Roach, absolutely, and even Ciri sometimes, when she has done something exceptionally cute. But him?

"Ah... Good morning?" Jaskier says, suddenly realizing he is only wearing one sock and Geralt's stolen tunic.

"Morning." Geralt agrees, not moving nor changing his expression.

"Hope I didn't wake you up." Jaskier asks self-consciously, not sure if he wants Geralt to know how they ended up cuddling or not.

"It's alright." Geralt says, not in the least confirming or denying the knowledge of gentle embraces. Well then. "You look very at home." he remarks.

"I'm making tea. It is our temporary home. It is only logical." Jaskier reasons, feeling his face heat up. As if it is something to be embarrassed about, but look, the way Geralt is looking at him right now is doing things to his heart, ok?

"I don't see the logic with just one sock, though." Geralt says, straightening and joining Jaskier in the little cooking corner, picking up the cups that Jaskier failed to find.

"Me neither, but tell that to my other sock. It seems to have become sentient and ran off to a better life." Jaskier sniffs, adding forks and a spoon the the little breakfast ensamble on the table, and hands Geralt the small towel they use when the pot is hot.

As soon as the tea is poured they settle down to eat. The table is so small their knees bump together, but it doesn't matter much. Or shouldn't, but Jaskier is feeling many, many things right now, so there is that.

He takes his escape in rambling about how the rain is restricting him, how Geralt actually go out in the rain with a soap, now that he thinks about it, because he needs a bath, where Roach could possibly be right now, the wonders of a warm drink, and finally the loss of his sock.

Geralt just smiles at him in that fond way, it seems like that is the one emotion he can process right now, and it keeps Jaskier's ramble going.

When they finish eating, Geralt does indeed go out to find Roach to check on her, and Jaskier is left to his own devices again. It is finally enough light now to pick up the book he has been reading, and he throws himself back into bed to read.

The witcher comes back some time later, Jaskier doesn't look up, but he can hear Geralt undress again and put his clothes in front of the fire to dry. He doesn't look up when he hears the steps approaching, but he gasps loudly when Geralt joins him in the bed, using his back as a pillow.

"Your hair is ice cold!!" Jaskier complains, but does nothing to dislodge him.

"Hmm." is Geralt's only reply, his eyes closed and therefore immune to Jaskier's glaring. The bard turns a page with a huff and starts reading it aloud. It is a thing they do, and he knows Geralt already read this book anyway.

They almost get through a chapter before Jaskier's eyelids get heavy. Next he knows, he has turned on his side and Geralt has somehow made his way up in front of him and they are holding each other again.

It is endearing, how Geralt's arms are around him again. How safe Jaskier feels listening to those ridiculous snores of his, the snuffle-whistle combination that Geralt denies to his dying breath.

Maybe the rain isn't so bad after all. Maybe they could do this again sometime, Jaskier thinks, noting that Geralt seems indeed to have brought the soap out into the rain, and that he only smells warm now. Safe. Home.

Geralt shifts in his sleep, and then dry lips press against Jaskier's forehead. Jaskier closes his eyes, holding every emotion that is trying to leap out so tight. He sucks in a quiet breath and holds it, everything focused on those lips pressed against him.

Then Geralt's hand moves, flattening against his back, pulling him closer.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Geralt murmurs.

Say what you want about the friendship between the witcher and his bard. They are not perfect. They have their ups and downs. 

But in a cabin, while hiding from the pouring rain, they are working on it. One sleepy hug at the time.