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gucciwins · 4 years ago

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Leather and Lace

The one where Harry goes to the Grammy's and Y/N is his date

Word count: 4,960

A/N: Hello beautiful friends! Harry at the Grammy's just blew me away, the leather look is all I want to talk about for the rest of my life.

I was feeling inspired and decided it was only fitting to continue Adore You. Part two is Three Time following nominations. So this is part three. Yes, I have a soft spot for Harry and Atticus. Will always write for them if the inspiration strikes.

warnings: smut (female pleasure), pandemic

There's been one thought running through Y/N's head for most of the day, and Harry can tell because it's nearing five pm and she has not started on dinner. Instead, she's sitting on the backyard steps that give her the beautiful view of the pacific ocean, an empty glass of wine in hand.

Harry doesn't say anything, just sits next to her, knowing she will speak when she's ready, but he also knows she enjoys the quiet moments with him.

Y/N leans her head on his shoulder, letting out a deep breath before settling down the wine glass to wrap her arms around his bicep.

"You asked me an important question."

"Wasn't that important." He shrugs.

"Harry," No nickname making sure he knows she's serious. "It is important. You asked me to be your date to the Grammys where you're opening the show and are a three-time nominee during a pandemic."

"Well, when you put it like that." He teases.

Y/N and Harry made two years of dating on February 16. To celebrate, they had dinner from their favorite Italian food place with chocolate strawberries for dessert that Atticus made for them with the help of Mitch and Sarah, who were more than pleased to take him for the night. It was a beautiful day primarily spent in bed talking and enjoying each other, reminding each other how much they were loved and would continue to be as years went on.

Two years and their relationship has been well hidden. Honestly, Jeff has been impressed at how not one word has gotten out. This may be due to only close friends and family knowing about the relationship. Also that they spent almost one entire year inside due to this ongoing pandemic.

She's not worried about others finding out about her relationship with Harry; that isn't her big concern; it is what they will say about her and Atticus. Harry is a single dad to the world, and Atticus is his first priority, and everyone knows that; she does not want to be the reason they write about how Harry is a neglecting father for dating someone so openly. She fears the backlash and how it can affect how Harry sees her.

Reasonably, Y/N knows that won't happen and that Harry sees her as his life partner as he's told her on multiple occasions. Also, the assurance that Atticus gives to her by calling her Mum more openly around their family. The constant I love you's get her through it.

"I understand if you aren't ready, love."

"Don't think I'll ever be ready, but there are lots of times where I just find myself wanting to shout it from the rooftops how much I love you." Harry smiles, knowing he's felt the exact same way.

"Yes, I'll be your date to the Grammys." She breathes out after a moment of silence.

Harry sits up straight, shifting to make her look him in the eyes. "Yeah, you will?"

"I'd be honored."

Harry's smile is breathtaking, and the next thing she knows, his lips are on hers. It's passionate and full of thank you's because she knows how much this means to him.

He pulls back but not before pecking her lips twice.

"I'm going to call Jeff." Harry rushes inside, leaving her alone once more, but a sincere smile is left on her face.

Y/N said yes because even though a part of her wanted to say no, the urge to say yes won because to be there by his side holding his hand no matter the results win her over.

She says yes because as much as she may have wanted to say no, the urge to say yes and be there by his side, holding his hand no matter the results, wins her over.

Harry comes back ten minutes later, a bottle of champagne in hand, with his eyes shining bright as if he had already won the award. "Jeff said it's all set. He's going to be our third wheel for the night."

She laughs, knowing very well he loves when Jeff has to be around them without his wife now. Always teasing him, but also very happy for him.

"Pop that open then! Let us celebrate." They walk back into the house, getting glasses, when they hear small steps approaching them.

Atticus is thrilled at hearing the news about Harry performing at the Grammys. He got even more excited when he found out Harry was taking Y/N as his date. Told them that she would be the prettiest on the carpet, Harry had pouted, asking what about him. Only to agree when Atticus said no one's beauty compares to his Mum's.

Harry had asked Glenne to watch over Atticus, and she eagerly accepted. They let Atticus know, and he was over the moon excited. Atticus knew his Auntie Glenne had a hard time saying no to him.

In a different time, if there was no pandemic, Harry knows Atticus and Y/N would have been the perfect dates for what is supposed to be a joyous night.

Grammy day arrived, and Harry walked the red carpet alone.

It's something all three agreed on, not at all wanting to steal any attention when it was such a big debut for Harry. As much as Harry wanted photos with her, he knew this was the way to go; she would be sitting next to him for the rest of the night, which he was thankful for.

Harry felt comfortable and happy in his red carpet look. He was wearing a green and yellow check tweed jacket and a tartan sweater combo worn, flared trousers, and lavender boa. It was a bit different but entirely himself, and that's all he wanted.

As soon as he's done posing for photos, he has his mask back on and is ushered into his changing room to change for his performance happening very soon.

Y/N is waiting in there chatting with Sarah, and when Harry opens the door, he's taken back by her beauty. Yes, he saw her dressed at home, but she seems like a dream here in this new light. Y/N is wearing a lilac satin backless dress, a long slit going up her left leg. She's wearing gold heels that their wonderful friend Harry Lambert acquired for her. The gold primrose signet ring adorned her right-hand ring finger. A few more that she has gifts from her mother and others she bought for herself, but his attention is on the one he gives her because even as she is in a conversation with someone she's fidgeting with, she has the feel of it under her fingers.

"Clear the room, friends," Jeff announces. "Styles here has to get ready. We can start heading to the stage."

Everyone is up and out in a matter of seconds, Jeff shutting the door behind him, telling him he only has fifteen minutes.

More than enough.

"Are you going to help me or just sit there ogling me?"

She smirks. "If I help, there's no saying you'll get clothes on in time."

Harry feels a twitch in his trousers and knows she's right. He huffs, not bothering to argue, just throwing his lavender boa in her direction.

"I'll always accept a striptease."

"I should have had Jeff kick you out as well," Harry says, not meaning a single word.

Y/N pouts. "Not nice, H."

"Baby, please. No more teasing, not really a fan of going on television with a boner, especially in leather." Harry stops her before she can continue on.

"Alright, I'll behave."

Harry breathes a sigh of relief because he's always so close to caving in. She has that effect on him.

Y/N sits there, turned on by Harry changing his outfit. What she wishes she was home instead because watching and not being able to touch is absolute torture.

Harry shimmy himself into the leather pants wanting to get Y/N to laugh, and it works like he knew it would.

"Got a nice ass, Styles. Might have to take it for a ride."

Harry mutters a fuck, and she's giggling. "It's like you hate me."

"On the contrary, I adore you."

"Yeah, well, hand me the jacket, please."

Y/N gets up, the black leather cropped jacket in hand; she stands behind him, guiding him to slip in his left arm, followed by his right. It rests perfectly on his shoulders; she let her hands slide down his arms before turning him around and getting a good look at the completed fit.

She takes a step back as Harry reaches for the mint feathered boa slipping it over his shoulders before dramatically swinging it over his left shoulder. He poses a hand on his hip.

"What's the verdict?" He's biting back a laugh.

"I'm in love. You should ask for my help in designing a look more often." Y/N's gaze has not left his exposed torso. The butterfly fly tattoo starting back at her, Harry's a bit leaner, but he's never looked, fitter. Definitely, feel lucky she can run her fingers over his abs as soon as they get home.

"You recommended no shirt."

"And look how right I was. Your fans are going to go crazy."

"There's only one person I care about going crazy." He steps forward, pressing a kiss to her neck before trailing up to her lips. Leaving soft kisses, not giving her more, and she needs it. She needs him to push her up against a wall and just take her.

"Trust me, baby. I'm showing so must restraint right now. Fuck, you need to walk out now before you're late."

Harry smirks; he likes knowing the effect he has on her. She's the reason he's wearing leather, having confessed thinking he'd look really good. And right she was. "Need a good luck kiss."

Y/N nods, bringing a hand up to rest on the back of his neck, the heels adding a few extra inches making her aligned perfectly with his plump pink lips. She's gentle as she connects their lips; he wraps a hand around her waist before taking control of the kiss, slipping his tongue inside; she lets out a soft moan as he kisses her with all he has. Harry pulls away, a dimpled grin on his face. "Lots of luck in that kiss." a

She nods, still in a daze. "I'll be watching, baby."

Harry and Y/N walk out hand in hand, masks on as they find Jeff, who directs him to the stage entrance, a whispered I love you and a final kiss. He's walking towards the stage, greeting each of his band members lingering a second longer with Sarah.

Y/N was grateful she was allowed to watch the performance from a hidden side stage with Jeff by her side. Those three minutes of Harry singing, she was left in awe as she always is; he's got a way of capturing your full attention. She let out a gasp when Harry threw the boa and turned to have exposed his chest, a broad smile on her face. Jeff was trying to stifle a laugh next to her, and she knew he would be passing this information along.

She felt lucky to be loved by Harry.

As soon as Harry finished performing, Jeff ushered her to his changing room where she could watch the other performances as they waited for Harry to join them once more before going to sit at the socially distanced tables.

Harry came back, a deep smirk on his face, his mint boa now resting on Mitch's neck. "What you think, love?"

"You were wonderful; you and the band just killed it. I felt like it was my first time listening to it. Those note changes were beautiful." She hugs him, happy to have him in her arms again. "Get changed, not much time."

Harry nods, going to the clothes rack but comes back to give Y/N a kiss. She feels herself melt into his touch. She pulls away and sees his green eyes glistening. "Thank you for being here." Before she can respond, he's walked away and changing into his previous outfit.

Harry is dressed, and Jeff ushers them out. Harry leads, greeting people as they walk by, occasionally stopping for someone. Y/N falls behind, smiling at everyone from behind a mask, she laughs, remembering others can't see it, but hopefully, they feel it. She spots a women's restroom and grabs Jeff's arm to get him to stop. He turns concerned. She leans in close, letting him know she's heading to the restroom and will catch up soon.

Y/N is walking out of the restroom heading down the hall when she stops hearing her name called. She turns and finds it's her good friend Julia Michaels.

"Hi darling," Y/N greets a large smile hiding behind her mask. "You look brilliant." Julia was dressed in a black gown adorned with white patterns resembling seashells and her tattoos on full display. Y/N was in awe.

"Thank you! As do you." She says, pulling her in a hug. "Is that a bit of an accent I hear?"

Y/N laughs. "Don't know about that; I've been living in London for years now. Might be that I've been around my British friends constantly."

"That or-"

Julia is interrupted by a man calling her name. Y/N sees it's her boyfriend, JP Saxe.

"Ah, the beau is calling for you, it seems." Y/N teases.

"Oh bummer, I love chatting with you. I would tell you all about him, but I'd expect the same."

"What do you mean?" She feigns confusion, but Julia sees past her.

"Well, who's your date?"

She can feel her face warm, knowing exactly who she's referring to.

"I came with my boyfriend," Y/N answers proudly.

Before Julia can respond, Y/N feels a hand on her back and turns to find Harry behind her. "Calling for us to head to our seats, nominations up next."

"Okay, H." She smiles, knowing there was a look of concern for her hiding behind the mask.

Harry seems to remember she was speaking with someone.

"Hello, Julia, lovely music. This one always plays it around the house." Harry knocks his hip with Y/N's. "Especially this new song that's nominated, she always had it playing. Soon my son was singing it as well. It meant I had to join in. I don't like being the odd one out."

"Thank you, Harry; I'm glad you could all enjoy my music. We've been doing the same. Fine Line is a gorgeous album. Best of luck tonight." Julia tells him sincerely.

"You as well."

"One last thing between us."

"Of course," he nods.

"She's a special one; take real good care of her." Y/N has never been more thankful for a mask because it hides her face that she is slowly starting to heat up.

"I like to think I've been doing a good job, or she wouldn't have stuck around for two years so far."

Julia doesn't hide her shock, her eyes go wide, and Harry just smirks.

Y/N laughs. "We have been good at laying low. Except for this one, he likes to always be doing something new."

"What can I say? I like to keep busy." Harry shrugs, knowing everyone knows about his next film in London.

"Now we definitely have to grab dinner soon or a zoom date, I don't know. I want to hear all about it." Y/N can tell Julia is curious but overall happy for her.

With that, they bid each other goodbye, and Harry escorts her to their seats.

"Someone is very open," Y/N tells him, adjusting her dress as she sits down.

"She's a good friend of yours but also Niall's. I know we can trust her." Harry tells her honestly.

"I see. We'll see how interviews go soon." Y/N knows Jeff had told them he had to do at least one interview if he didn't win, and if he did, it would just be him addressing the virtual press room.

Harry is sitting in the middle, Jeff to his left andY/N to his right. He's never felt as safe when they name the nominees for the category.

Y/N feels the tight grip Harry has on her thigh, and his left hand is rubbing up and down his pants to dry the sweat she can only imagine is building up. She looks up at his face, but he's calm, but she knows him; there's a storm of thoughts running through his head. Y/N knows there isn't much to help ease, but she can remind him she's there for him. She lifts his hand that was resting on her thigh to her lips and gives it a gentle kiss through her mask, yes he can't feel it, but the sentiment is there. She sets his hand back, fingers now intertwined with hers. Y/N knows he's looking at her and meets his gaze reassuring him with his eyes she loves him.

Rachelle Erratchu is opening the envelope, and in the next few seconds, she will announce the winner for the best pop solo performance.

"Watermelon Sugar, Harry Styles!"

Harry sits there shocked, his shoulders dropped, eyes wide, not at all able to hide the shock. He just heard his name called; he just won a Grammy.

In the next second, he's standing up, removing his mask, his nervous smile now able to be seen by the camera. Jeff is quick to pull him in a tight hug. Y/N stands feeling the happiness travel through her entire body.

Harry won.

A mask is no longer hiding his smile, and she knows if she removed her, she'd have a matching smile. Harry hugs her tight, her arms going around his waist; she can feel how fast his heart is beating. Harry is not at all ready to let her go but knows he has an acceptance speech to give.

"You did it, H," she whispers, ushering him to head up the stage.

Harry gets up, letting out a deep breath as he hears the applause continue. He picks up the Grammy for a second before setting it back down. He looks out at the audience, and he's just astounded that he's won.

"Wow, um..." Harry takes a deep breath before starting. "To everyone who made this record with me, thank you so much. This was the first song we wrote after my album came out, during a day off in Nashville. I just wanna say thanks to Tom, Tyler, and Mitch, and everyone, Rob Stringer, everyone at Columbia, my manager Jeffrey who always nudged me to be better and never pushed me and thank you so much, and I feel very grateful to be here." He smiles at Y/N. "Thank you to my son, who has been the light in my life and my biggest fan. Everything I do is for him, and I hope I continue to make him proud. I love you, darling boy." Harry knows he's got only so much time left, but there is one last person to thank. He doesn't address her by name, but everyone in that room knows what he says next is for Y/N as he never takes his eyes off of her.

"Thank you for believing in me. I was not the easiest to deal with when we first met, but you're here and have been every step of the way. Thank you for helping me become a better man each day. I adore you." He chuckles, continuing on, "All these songs are fucking massive, so thank you so much; I feel very honoured to be among you, so thank you so much."

Harry walks off stage, leaving the grammy he had just won behind, eager to have Y/N back in his arms. His eyes are set on her; she's standing arms open, ready for him. He melts into her touch, hiding his head in her neck placing a gentle kiss on her exposed neck. "I love you," he whispers.

Y/N softly cradles his cheek as he leans into her touch, her eyes filling with tears of joy. "I love you, H."

Harry pulls away, letting her take a step back as Jeff hugs him tighter than before. He's so happy he places an affectionate kiss on Jeff's masked cheek.

Harry's happy; he knows he didn't need an award to let him know how talented he was, but it was an honor to have his support team by his side as he did receive the award.

Harry had taken Y/N with him to help change, claiming he needed help. Jeff knew better but let them be.

As soon as Harry ushered them into the changing room, he pushed her up against the locked door, ripped his mask off, shoving it in his pocket, kissing down her neck.

Y/n reaches a shaky hand up to remove her mask, letting it fall in Harry's waiting hand to place next to him.

"Kiss me," she breathes.

Harry, never one to deny her, brings his lips to hers. Y/N felt her whole body tingle as he claimed control over her mouth, hungry and intense as if she'd disappear if he would slow down.

Y/N laughs as her hands rest on his shoulder, letting him kiss all the skin she has exposed.

"Baby, you're a Grammy winner." A hand now in his hair as she feels his lips right above the curve of her breasts.

"Just like you."

"Atticus must be so proud," Y/N says, now lost in thought.

Harry pulls back, "As much as I love our baby, please don't mention him as I'm trying to shag you in my dressing room."

Y/N grins nodding, she pushes the plaid jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall on the floor. "Sorry, did you say shag? Is that Grammy fame getting to your head?" She teases

"The only place my head is going is between your thighs." His voice rough, no longer teasing. She can see the lust building in his emerald eyes.

"Guess I'm the real winner," Y/N tells him, pushing up her dress to reveal her black lace panties, Harry's favorites.

"Fuck." Harry trails his hands down her thighs as he sinks to his knees.

Y/N holds her dress up as Harry begins to pull down her panties, letting them fall to her ankles. "Those are too hot to be hidden, baby. Fuck, knowing you had those on the whole time for me has me so hard." He unbuttons his trousers giving himself breathing space.

"Please, baby," Y/N begs, wanting him to give her some kind of release.

"Alright, darling, since we don't have much time."

Y/N has her legs spread open for Harry; her face was flushed, knowing the pleasure Harry would soon bring her. She was wet; she had been since she saw Harry perform in his whole leather outfit; she swears this look will enter her dreams when he's away.

"Love, you're so wet." He smirks, knowing this was for him, but a bit of confirmation never hurt anyone. "All-cause of me?"

"Yes, always wet for you." She breathes out, looking down at him.

Harry leans in, pressing soft kisses on her thigh, getting her to relax, wanting her to enjoy this as much as he's going to. He loves how soft her skin is; he litters kisses as he watches her, still feeling how close he is to where they both want him to be.

Y/N feels like she can't breathe; Harry's teasing always so good but not now. Not when she wants him inside her, but she settles for him eating her out. He's proven more than a dozen times how good he is with his tongue.

"I'm ready, darling. I'm ready to taste you, fuck, you smell amazing, but oh, there's something special about how you taste. Will you let me?" Harry asks, always asking for her consent, never wanting her to feel pressured.

"Yes, please." Harry always knows what she needs; she's happy to relinquish all control to him.

Harry tightened his grips on her thighs, scooting closer. He smiles at how glistening her pussy looks for him. How wet he's made her. He didn't have time for foreplay as much as he wanted to tease her have her withering under his touch. He drove right in, his tongue in between her lips, tasting her sweet juices. It was good, sweet, and just for him.

Y/N let out a moan; Harry wanted more from her; he wanted her a moaning mess. Y/n felt his tongue against her most sensitive spot and felt her knees go weak, fuck; he knew exactly how to bring her the pleasure she seeks.

Harry's eyes were closed, focusing on the noises Y/N was making and savoring the taste.

Y/N has a hand in his hair, her right hand holding up her bunched-up dress. "My winner," she moans out.

"You're always a winner. Fuck, so good." She pants.

"You are….baby" Nothing's making sense. She's lost in her pleasure. Harry was focusing on her clit; he licked at the small peek, knowing she was close.

She pulls harder on his hair, he lets out a moan against her pussy, and it brings her twice the pleasure. "Make me cum, baby." She whines, "Show me exactly why a song about oral sex deserved to win."

Harry, edged on by her words, begins to suck on her clit, letting her feel the ecstasy it brings her. Y/N lost in her pleasure, misses Harry's cursing against her.

"Harry, I'm close." She whimpers out.

"Cum for me, darling." He doesn't slow down, lapping against her pussy, taking everything she gives him. He sucks on her clit, swirling his tongue around as he brings a finger to her hole, gently pushing in, knowing it will drive her over the edge.

"Fuck, you're always a winner. This mouth is always a winner."

Y/N whines out his name, pulling him closer as he licks up all she offered him, letting her ride out her orgasm enjoying every moment. Harry pulls his hand away, setting it on her exposed thigh, drawing small comforting circles, until he's sure she's ridden it through.

She lets out a long sigh as she slides down the door, no longer able to stay standing. Harry grins, guiding her down gently as he sits back on his heels.

"Can I return the favor?" She blinks at him, lust still swimming in her eyes.

Harry blushes but not at all embarrassed. "Watching you cum for me did the job, baby."

She pouts her lips.

"Can treat me to a good time later," he promises; she eagerly nods, already knowing how she'd make him go crazy at him. The taste of him on her tongue later, something to look forward to.

"Think this was the reason you had a third outfit picked." She jokes,

Harry laughs, "Definitely."

Y/N and Harry sit there staring at each other, blissed out in pleasure, taking in the other's smile when a loud knock on the door startles them reminding them where they are.

"When you walk out of here, there better not be a single trace to what you did in there," Jeff tells them.

Harry smirks, "oh Jeffery, who does he take us for?"

Y/N is helped to her feet by Harry, who slips her panties back up her thighs. Y/N walks to the restroom to fix herself while Harry washes his face at the sink provided. Harry is quick to get out of his clothes and into the final outfit of the night. An orange blazer with a white low-cut shirt and plaid pants.

He's ready to step back out and mingle, showing off his girlfriend to everyone who approaches them. Harry stands in front of the mirror looking at the deep red mark on his neck where she left a love bite; he doesn't even remember her giving it to him.

She smirks, seeing him trace his finger over it. Y/N walks up to him, placing the black-feathered boa over his shoulders.

"I could get behind the feathered boas if it means I can leave more kisses like that behind," Y/N tells him as he swings it over his shoulder, adjusting it to hide the mark that would bruise over the next few hours.

"We'll see, love."

Y/N stands in front of the mirror, adjusting her dress. She smooths her hands over her dress, happy with how she looks. Not at all like she was just given the orgasm of her life. Harry smiles, grateful she was here with him on an important day. He loves her, and he knows she loves him.

"Ready, love?" He stands being her, hand on her waist

She turns her head up to look at him, puckering her lips, waiting for a kiss that Harry happily gives her. "Now, I'm ready."

Y/N and Harry walk hand in hand, masks on.

Harry may not have won any more awards, but he truly felt like he had won it all way before ever hearing his name being called. With a woman like Y/N on his side who was intelligent, beautiful, and independent, constantly pushing him to be a better person every day, there was no way he would ever know what it would be like to lose.

Thank you so much for reading! I adore you. Hopefully, the future allows me to write for Harry, Atticus, and Y/N some more but for now I hope you enjoyed this continued story. <333

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designatedloveinterest · 4 years ago

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please tell me where I’m going with this

Yennefer woke up because something was tickling her nose.

She slept in the foetal position as she always did, undisguised by a sympathetic body to wrap around, shutting out the cold uncaring world. Having spent her formative years in a stable, she felt no urgent reason to engage with the tickling. Probably just a lonely harvestman, lost on its way to its web - but by the gods, she would certainly need to get up and piss soon.

Jaskier woke up because something was sticking into his ribcage. It was soft and pillowy, but definitely squished uncomfortably against him. He rolled over and found a different something squishing into a different part of his ribcage. His bladder was also starting to complain urgently.

The cries that ensued from both parties on waking could be heard across Vengerburg.

Familiarity breeds contempt, and hatred is all too frequently a projection of the features in oneself that one despises the most. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that the unlucky recipients of new bodies as mentioned above performed almost identical rituals, in order:

1) poking at their new face, Yennefer scrubbing at her newfound stubble - and crow’s feet - in utter dismay, Jaskier marveling at his resemblance to a baby’s bottom, and;

2) immediately returning to bed to experiment with their unfamiliar genitalia.

“You boring, boring little man. You talk a big game of entendres and seduction, but you don’t own so much as an egg,” muttered Yennefer, rifling through Jaskier’s things and hoping he owned the room, or at least was paid up. Across town in Yennefer’s apartment, Jaskier was opening jars and bottles and sniffing them, wondering if any of them were safe for personal use.

ARGENTUM IBISCUS DI CERIKAN

“Sorted!” gloated Jaskier, spotting his very favourite beauty cream in its distinct rifled coffret. Lightly scented with a silky feel, Argentum Ibiscus di Cerikan was safe for delicate body parts, such as, ahem, eyes. Out of sheer habit he dabbed a tiny amount in the corner of each eye then, clutching the bottle, positioned himself in front of Yen’s full length mirror, legs splayed for a perfect combination of watcher and watched.

Yen grinned smugly at finding a near-finished bottle of her best-selling beauty potion nestled in Jaskier’s smallclothes like a dirty secret. Whilst the merchants proclaimed its rejuvenation properties, the unspoken benefit was the unique but painless tingling sensation it offered - a benefit the bard was clearly familiar with. She was quite sure he would forgive her for smearing it over three or four of her fingers and applying it deeply.

Jaskier collapsed to the ground, gurgling incoherently.

“Ba” was all he could manage. “Ba. Ba.” He stared at a loop of silk edging the extremely fine carpet he lay on, hands clutched between his legs, heart pounding like a thunderstorm.

How did women not just fucking die from this?

Very suddenly, Jaskier understood why women who failed to finish before he did beat and kicked him so savagely.

Poor Yen had had to make do with a lousy candle, nowhere near enough width for the beastly pounding she knew the bard could easily withstand. She was also disappointed to find that luxurious living and what felt like a hereditary spinal condition prevented her from being able to get her mouth quite down to her surprisingly generous cock. Still, discovering that the bard had extraordinarily sensitive nipples gave her plenty to work with.

He supposed he should leave. No doubt Yennefer would be VERY angry when she woke up in his less than salubrious inn room, and assuming this situation wasn’t entirely her doing, she would be roaring back towards her own home ready to eviscerate him and his newfound appreciation for the clitoris. Not that he hadn’t appreciated it before, but now he REALLY appreciated it. At least six times, just this morning.

But her sheets were so fine, and her bed so soft, and the smell of not only lilacs and gooseberries but also roses, freesias, jasmine, frying eggs, donuts, and even horseshit coming in through the high window was wrapping him in a sensuous haze, and he decided that just a few more minutes of sleep would be fi…..

Yen, however, was very keen to find out which whoreson had stuck her in this ridiculous furbag’s body, even if it was a rather fun body to play with, and so after a relatively muted three orgasms and an efficient nap she attempted to get dressed.

Yen was no stranger to suffering for beauty, and even respected the bard’s commitment, but… what the hell was going on with these shoes? These PANTS?? Eventually she managed to cobble together an outfit from the least ridiculous items in Jaskier’s wardrobe - which for a travelling bard was entirely too large - and arrange her new bits in a less uncomfortable manner.

Her first port of call would, indeed, be her own home…

All right, perhaps that was more than a few minutes of sleep. Jaskier grinned smugly to hear the elegant and proud Yennefer’s stomach gurgling like a summer brook.

Well, the only decent thing to do would be to feed her! Jaskier felt very, very sure that Yennefer would be so grateful when she found out he’d maintained her refined diet. He fell out of bed and treated himself to a leisurely hour or so of trying on clothes, occasionally yelling at his stomach to shut up and make way for beauty, and settled on a simple all-black ensemble that he felt really emphasised both tits and arse.

Patting himself on the bottom for his good taste, he headed out for breakfast. Lunch. Lekfast. Whatever.

"What're YEE staring at, cont?"

Yennefer, who had barely registered the thug's existence, continued as she normally would - eyes straight ahead, nose not at all in the air but somehow looking as if it was.

“Hey! Don’t fuckin’ ignore me you puffed-up prick! A’ll ‘ave ye!”

Puffed-up prick? Oh, of course. Yen had somehow managed to get comfortable in this weird huge bear of a body, and none of her womanly wiles would get her out of this – appeal to his mates, cutting but witty remark, setting on fire as a last resort. She made a cautious gesture in the hope of generating some energy, and of course just looked camp. She hoped this body was any good in a fight.

Normally, Jaskier had to muster all the charm he had abundantly at hand to persuade Dragan Smilovic to open The Iron Mountain before noon. Instead, he was slightly miffed to discover a beaming Dragan throwing the doors open to welcome "Lady Yennefer! A honour to my house. The usual?"

Curiosity overriding his irritation, he smiled as smugly as he imagined Yen to be and murmured "Of course, Dragan." He swished into the pub and slid into a booth, making sure to really stick his arse out as he did so.

This body was not that great in a fight, to be honest, but thankfully, neither was Mr. Sensitivity and after some unpleasant blows to the face Yennefer channelled her first-year Aretuza energy, grabbed her assailant's ears and headbutted him right in the nose. His face exploded with blood and snot and his mates roared, advancing on her for revenge. Yennefer took the win and, using her long muscular legs, ran like all Jaskier's fiancee's were after her.

"What... is this, Dragan?" Jaskier had no idea how his face looked, but he felt like it probably resembled this sad assembly of rabbit food masquerading as a meal.

The dwarf rattled off a word salad that involved far too little "pork" or "venison" and far too much "emulsion" and "jus" and for fuck's sake "julienne".

"Are you trying to kill me? I'll waste away from this."

Dragan flinched slightly.

"The last time I brought you the house special you threatened to set me on fire."

Of course she did. Still, of all the things Dragan could suspect of the sorceress, being occupied by her best frenemy's mind was unlikely to be the first, so Jaskier declined to simply reverse the threat.

"Dragan," he reassured the dwarf, "I've given it some thought and I believe that I should be liberated from the tyranny of the 21 inch waist. A hardworking mage requires adequate carbohydrates to maintain one's powers, and as a result, I will require a tankard of the finest Rivian Kriek and one each of your freshest pies. No cats, Dragan, I'll notice."

Dragan bowed slightly. "Very good, ma'am," and headed for the kitchen.

Yennefer was pleasantly surprised by how well the furbag's lungs were taking all this running. For a man who clearly appreciated carbohydrates in all forms, Jaskier was much fitter than she'd have expected. Even so, she very slightly wished his inn was located somewhat less downhill from her apartment.

The thugs had, fortunately, been either too cowardly to follow her into the more upmarket part of town, or perhaps had been intercepted by guards while she sprinted through the textile markets. A few merchants had tried to wave her (realistically, him) down and she huffed "not... today... thanks" and kept sprinting. If she made it home fast enough, he might not have stolen everything not nailed down.

Jaskier was disgusted, absolutely disgusted with the lack of endurance this body had for fine carbohydrates. Offered the finest sauerkraut, sausages, pies and pierogies, beautiful homebaked dwarven bread smeared with the finest goat's cheese, not to mention the fine ales, beers and stouts he KNEW Yennefer loved - why, he was practically buying her a gift! even if it was with her own money - it managed to digest half of a pie and half a herring in batter and collapsed like a schoolboy in the third round of Gwent. He unlaced the ribbons at his tiny waist and lay down in the booth.

"Why am I dying, Dragan? I haven't eaten in 24 hours. I should be ready to tip an entire banquet table down my waiting gullet. I want a refund."

Dragan prickled. "Ma'am, I provided specifically your every request. I - "

Jaskier waved dismissively. "I'm joking, Dragan, keep your pants on. Oh gods - " clutching at his spasming stomach - "I want a refund on this miserable, useless body. Except for the boobs. They're quite good. Ooooof."

The dwarf clutched his notepad. "Errr... coffee?"

Yennefer approached her shop with some trepidation. He wouldn't have trashed it - not his style - but he absolutely would leave a bottle of something dangerous open,

#jaskier #yennefer #body swap #wip #aaaaaaaaaarrrrrghhhh #writing? I'd rather shovel shit with my tongue

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1863-project · 5 years ago

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A Comprehensive List of Bob Mortimer’s Cat Names

Someone made a search that you can check, but I decided to just put them all in one easy list for my own amusement. Remember, they’re just £8.00 p.a.!

Most recent cat names tweet: August 8th, 2019

Tony Caramel

Ron Paving

Clive Eloquence

Paul Workclothing

Gary Chapati

Ken Turmoil

Max Panscourer

Pat Twat (with a sibling; Pat and Ron Twat cannot be split)

Len Murder

Dave Bowl

Barbara Lighthouse (reappears later as Barbara’s Lighthouse)

Perry Similar

Kenny Carpets

Tracy Everywhere

Johnny Cointreau

Mark Pork

Todd Farty

Anton Saucepans

Muriel Breakthrough

Ronnie Pom-pom

John Pudding

Brad Shit

P.O. Box 6

Ken Tussle

15 Inch Ron

Dean Atlas

Aromatic Pat

Craig’s Anus

Mary Berry’s Crack Den

Duncan Sparkles

Low Tim

Madam Hats

Ali Ballbag Ltd. (reappears as Ali Ballbag without the Ltd. later)

Long Ron

Tepid Ken

Ruth Worksurface

Roxy Backwater

Duncan Cardoors

Sausage and Tits

Pat Stott

Donny Fortuna

Careful Tits

Bobby Resistance

Special Agent Parsley

Anton Crackpipe

Sargeant Walnuts (sp.)

Pete! Dave! Over Here!

Sausages and Laughter (x2)

Debbie Wilson

Ishram Canister

Jupiter Whistles

Shakira’s Cock

Babs Moonwater

Ricky Drinkingchocolate

Bitter n’ Tits

Cat McPatPiss

Pork Water

Funk Kurtain

Meal of Rice (x2)

Webcam Gary

Aldi Suitcases

Papa Halfords

Ocado Stungun

Tits McMillets

Threat Level Tesco

Agent Shitfarm

Mainly Sausages

Titted Biscuits

The Cable Guy

Frank Canons Cock

Twenty Posts

Flappy McSusan

Shitfarm Padlock

Pillau Nice

Django Untrained (x3)

Kenny Mousetits

Gas Board Shitstorm

Gary Plasters

Let It Go From Frozen

6 Miles to Debenhams

Ken Lump

Sarah Access

Don Partial

Cool Balls

Mick Moth

Flicks Puffins

Angela Ding-Dong

Pat McPuff

Whistles McFarmland

Roy Mincemeat

Kate Peppers (minimum 3 year lease)

Bus Pass Ron

Kitchen Shitstorm

Wendy Broadcast

Bert Onesie

Karen Pancake

King Ali Shitty Shotty

Steve Briefcase

Randy Pancake (a sibling of Karen?)

Shitfarm Sprinkler

Jane Coconuts Gun

Whistles McCrackling

Jim Equipment

Ron O’Congo

Mars Barr

Pat Shatty

Len Chestweasels

Humphrey Barcode

Shit Car

Gentle Kenneth

Rusty Seduction

Doctor Handrail

Dusty Handmusic

Quality Parsnips

Edith’s Tits

7 Hamburgers

Mike Drink

Napoli Rodriguez

Fish and Tits

Gary Whelks

Pat du Jour

Sandy Fingerings

Dusty Sequence

FriendlyToffeeBloke

Buttery Ken

Fox Leftovers (x2)

The Anus

Jackie Doritos

Harry Tits

Billy the Pigeon

Honestly Shitfaced

Darren Plunge

Ronnie California

Karen Cobblers

Geoffrey Fire

ITV One

Top Heavy Ken

Comfortable Derek

Patrick Cups

ITV One + 1

Passive Matthew

Keith’s Dick

Yusef Nightmares

Watery Ron

The Cake

The Evil Coin

Tanned Hand

Formally Bernard

50 Shits

Strongly Ron

Intelligence and Turnips

The Bomb Club

Zac Parliament

Gary Venue

Buttery Paul

Long Rodney

Papa Handwash

Ravioli Townsend

Cuba Big Tits Jr

Watery Bill

Slightly Tofu

Indian Suitcase

Ian’s Butter

Meal of Pickles

Floating Tiger Hidden Moorhen

Yousef Metabolism

BBC’s The Office

Alison Hedgefund

Christ in Flight

Remote Toby

Sensual Ken

Mr Shite

Swords and Cakes

Dons Crabs

Ken Wok

Todd Nightly

All The Meats

Gradual Henry

Problems and Co

Anal September

Turkey Disturbance

Presently Walnuts

Crackers McKnackers

Brian Harvey’s Xmas

Greetings O’Jesus

Nut 31

Anus of Snow

Wizard of Tits

Vegan Relative

Sprouts McStuffing

X-Factor Final

Greetings From Hull?

Lovely Sprouts

The Sack

Inspector Partridge

Aldi 5-Bird Roast

[there’s more in the photo but sadly they’re cropped]

Kissy Lipsauce

Lacey Bedspread

Tender Gary

Softy Pinkpowders

Strokey McPokey

Ronnie Omelettes

Gary from Admin

Lidl Wayne

Aldi Best

Cedric Latenights

Broccoli Highkicks

Sirius Cockhopper

Bubbles McParty

Mr. Several Businesses

Donny Romance

Ken Rope

Puff Stepdad

Well Done Deborah

Fire Hawk

Valerie Simpleton

The Plasterer

Gary Avenue

I <3 Lids

Slippery Wilf

Alan’s Mam’s Dentist

Pork n’ Pancakes

Ring of Mince

The Carpet Fitter

Burnt Shite

Sausages and Makeup

Seeping Turkey Hidden Baubles

Donny Chestnuts

Paul Pogba’s Sat Nav

Terence Tinsel Jr.

Gifty McWhiffle

Jonny Fondling

Banana in Transit

The Gift of Barry

Chocolates Near Bottoms

Sentimental Craig

Not Now Raymond

The Many Chins of Derek O

Meet Me at Halfords

Brigadier Knickers

Rt. Hon. Nutty Shite

Russ Abbot’s Cape

Dave’s Hand Cream

Paul Blart Falafel Cop

Cupboard of Vests

Agnes Fags (cigarettes, not the slur)

German Ice

Liquorice Mick

The 8th Ron of Luton

That Bloke What Stinks

Ron’s Liquids

Hot Chilli Whistles

Pottery and Nonsense

The Very Long Bag

Dean Gaffney’s Cauldron

Lynn’s Windows

Chad Salad

Gustav Hosiery

Hans Downtrousers

Gerhardt Nightcreeper

Jean Paul BuggerAll

Atem Ben Chinstrap

Myfanwy Mindwallop

Carlos Whispers

H From Steppes

#comedy #British comedy #Bob Mortimer #cats #cat names for sale

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peakywriting · 6 years ago

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Thomas Shelby NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Thomas may be the most feared man in Birmingham but when he’s alone with his woman he loves a good cuddle, especially after sex. Holding you in his arms while smoking a cigarette but if it’s emotional sex, like making love for example, he’ll sometimes be the little spoon as his head is rested up against your chest while stroking Thomas’ hair.

If the sex was rough then he’d stroke wherever he left marks or bruises, kissing them gently and telling you how good you were and how much he loves you. He may call you a whore during sex sometimes but Tommy always reassures you after that your not and that he loves you with his entire being.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Thomas loves his hands, especially his fingers, the way he can make you squirm, moan and squeal with them makes him hard. His fingers can reach places yours can’t so Thomas uses that to his own advantage, you on the other hand.. he loves your eyes. The way they look up at him as you two have sex, so full of love but so desperate for pleasure, you only have to look him in the eyes and he knows what you want. But if he had to pick a physical feature of yours it would be your thighs, he loves leaving marks all over them and finds the little noises you make when he nips at them music to his ears.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He prefers to cum inside you, filling you up to the brim until Thomas can watch his cum leak out of you. He also likes to lick your orgasm off of his fingers, often going in for seconds and even thirds..

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has a gun kink.. he would never ever expect you to go through with it and to be honest he’d never tell you. Afraid of the reaction he’d get but also what if he accidentally pressed the trigger? The thought of fucking you from behind with him pressing a gun to your temple is something he fantasises about a lot, but woul never tell a soul. Not even you.

He also steals your panties and puts them in his pocket, being amused when he finds out you had to go outside in a dress without any on because they went ‘missing’.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

This is Thomas Fucking Shelby we’re talking about here, of course he has experience, and he uses that to his advantage. He’s able to make anyone scream from just the way he uses his fingers, of course if his partner was a virgin he’d go gentle but he’d still have a way of making you scream.

Let’s say you were a virgin he’d caress your body and be extra slow but still giving you the pleasure as if he was going rough, he’d just spend a bit longer between your legs.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Bent over his desk, or any surface in fact. Thomas likes to spank your ass as he fucks you and pull at your hair while he smokes a cigarette at the same time. He definitely leaves red hand prints on your skin but it goes without saying that he’ll always hold you after.

Let’s me real here though, he also likes it when you ride him, from a certain scene you can tell he likes being dominated but still likes to have some form of control wether that be holding your wrists or waist while your on top. It just gives him a better angle to suck and bite onto your nipples.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He’s more of the serious one during sex, he doesn’t see it as a joke. He’ll smile during the act but will rarely laugh, making love to you isn’t a game to him. After sex he might laugh, a very big might but he’s the serious type.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s trimmed downstairs, not overly hairy but not bare like a child either, he likes to be seen as a man and not a boy. It’s most likely the same colour as what’s on his head, but maybe slightly darker. Thomas doesn’t have a preference on what his partners are like but would prefer some hair on them.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

It depends, if it’s a special anniversary or if you want to make love then he’ll go all out. Not many people know this about Thomas but he’s a romantic, he’ll light candles for you during (if you want to go slow that is).

But most nights it’s rough, pinning you down on the bed as he pounds you against any surface. But he’ll always check afterwards, he’s extremely protective of you and wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he had hurt you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He did a lot before he met you, or he would’ve gone some whore to do it for him if he wanted a ‘helping hand’. Now he rarely does it, if he’s hard then Thomas will just get you to to it (with consent of course!) But you’d always comply, wanting to pleasure your husband.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Gun Play, Sir/Master Kink, Public sex (most likely in The Garrison), likes his hair being pulled

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

The Garrison, he wouldn’t care if anyone heard, all that mattered that people knew you belonged to him.

In the bath, he’d like how intimate it was, he’d wash your hair, your body and then get to fuck you afterwards.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

When you dance around the kitchen, it could be doing the most mundane of things but the way your hips sway gets him going.

When you shoot someone, that being in defence of course, but knowing you can take care of yourself would turn him the fuck on and he’d most likely bend you over the nearest surface and fuck your brains out. Not caring who hears or sees.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’s willing to try anything with you, anything once and if he doesn’t like it then the two of you won’t do it again. He’s not a big fan of bodily fluids, except your cum and saliva.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He loves a good blowjob, you’d be under his desk sucking his cock while he did paper work, occasionally stroking your hair as your mouth went to work.

Thomas could spend hours between your legs, loving the moans and squeals that come out of your mouth. He’d always tell you that your the sweetest fruit he’s tasted. While he went down on you he’d remain eye contact, or at least look up at you, loving to see your reactions as he nipped and sucked.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the situation really, sometimes he can be like a while animal. Leaving marks all over your skin, having you crying and screaming in pleasure as he fucks you on any surface near the two of you. Other times he can be a gentle lover, especially if it’s the especially if it’s the anniversary of the war, he’d feel so vulnerable and you wouldn’t want to pressure him but all he’d want to do is hold you and make love to you, so glad that he has someone in his life. But he’d be so scared of loosing you like lost so many friends..

Q = Quickie (Where? how often? Do they like it?)

Thomas doesn’t mind quickies but would prefer to take his time with you, building up to the moment until finally your begging him to touch you.. to ravish your body.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He likes the risk of being caught, that’s why the two of you both fuck in The Garrison often, someone could walk in on you two, him taking you from behind while smoking and he’d simply say “You need anything?”

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Since he came back from the war he’s been fitter than ever, he can go maybe 2-3 rounds, after four his Thrusts May turn sloppy but he’ll give it his all. Due to being a businessman he can hold off his urges, which meant he could last for hours on end but when he did come.. there’s usually lots of it.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

In 1902 the vibrator came into play, he wouldn’t be too pleased in knowing you owned one. One day you’d come in the room to find it missing, he’d thrown it away, him being the one one that can pleasure you, even if it is just a toy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

His middle name is tease, he loves to hear you begging for him. Orgasm denial is his favourite but won’t do it too often as you can be sensitive. Thomas wouldn’t mind fingering you under the table either, knowing you can’t do anything or say anything to stop him, you’d just have to put up with it while you were surrounded by his family.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He makes grunts here and there, even some Snarls when he’s in the moment but as soon as he cums he sounds like a wild animal.. not that you minded, it was a sound that could make you cum on the spot.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Thomas likes fucking you by a mirror, making you watch him fuck You during the moment. ‘’You like that huh? Watching my cock fuck you, dirty little thing!’’ Let’s just say there are plenty of mirror stains you have to explain to Polly.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Thomas is around 7 and a half inches, average length but he’s girthy. He only has to put the head of his cock inside you and your already a Whimpering mess.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Like I said before he’s a businessman so his sex drive isn’t through the roof but it isn’t low either, you two have sex twice a day, four/five times a week. Many more if he’s stressed, you don’t mind him taking his anger out of your body though.. it’s quite pleasureable.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Thomas doesn’t fall asleep straight after sex, he’ll smoke one or two cigarettes after before finally going to sleep, even then he’ll stroke your hair and make sure your okay before closing his eyes.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders

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marktrescothic-blog · 7 years ago

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Home Carpet Fitting Checklist

Carpets usually cost huge amounts from your pocket. Hence, their fitting process should definitely include a few experienced carpet fitters. You’ve purchased your carpet and now you need it to be fitted. If you would like to fit it yourself, this article has all the items and elements you require for quality carpet fitting work at home.

1. Choose finest tools for carpet fitting

A carpet fitting job goes through different steps. These steps include stretching, cutting, and others. So, you need certain tools to complete the job with finishing. These tools include a carpet bolster, carpet knee kicker, Knee pads, double sided tapes, hobby knife and others. You can consult a carpet professional while choosing your tools.

2. Test your skills on old carpet

Before you start working on new carpets, it is wise to work your skills on an old carpet. You will need a few old carpet pieces to test your tools and your skills too.

3. Purchase a long lasting and appealing new carpet

You will need a carpet of your choice. Choose a reputed store to purchase a long lasting carpet those appeals to your interior. Keep the carpet rolled until you are ready to use them. This will save the carpet from dust and dirt.

4. An underlay

One of the important rules of carpet fitting is that they require an underlay. The underlay has to be durable, thermal-resistant, and eco-friendly if possible. You can find multiple options of underlay for your carpet:

Felt wool- These underlay’s come with acoustic insulation, long life. The recycled materials used in this kind of underlay make them suitable for the environment too.

Rubber- There are underlay options with a rubber material. The rubber material keeps the heat away and provides insulation to the room. Plus, the comfortable pressure provides convenience while walking on the floor.

PU foam- You can also use PU foam underlay. They require some extra investment, but provide much better insulation and comfort properties to your floor.

Apart from the mentioned ones, you can find options like felt wool, rubber crumb, felt and rubber combinations. All these choices include different properties. So, choose according to the needs of your space.

5. Carpet gripper

The carpet grippers provide an easy frame to lay your carpet. They contain nails that are installed to grip the carpets. You can lay the carpet gripper in the perimeter of the floor. Then, the carpet stretching becomes much easier. The gripper tightly holds the carpet edges, which allows you to stretch the carpet properly and avoid bubbles.

Get professional carpet installers

Carpet installation requires extreme care and skills of using the tools. So, if you have any doubts about your skills, make no mistake. Call a professional installer who can conduct the task for you. A professional ensures finishing of the work, especially at the edges of the carpet.

So, that is all you require for carpet fitting. Make sure you think about carpet fitters near me. They can make the job much easier and convenient. But it depends on the expertise of the professional. Hence, select a service that is reputed and experienced in the job.

#carpet fitters #carpet fitters near me #carpet fitters in the UK

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thecrazycaity · 6 years ago

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Day 35?36? I’ve lost count!

So most of us on the 40 day challenge are between 1 and 2 sessions (Ok - I’m 3!) away from reaching our goal! Yay! Can you believe it?!

While doing doubles every day this week. (Yes you read correctly. Doubles. Every. Day. I’m not as crazy as Sandy who has been doing triples!!!!) A conversation came up about people who cheat at 40 days. Tania said she trusted me (awe thanks :) ) that I had actually done the catch up sessions at the beach. (She usually checks in but she doesn’t know Nita down in KZN.) I was pretty shocked that people would actually lie about boot camp! Why?! I mean honestly what is the point?!

The truth is that after next week no one is really going to remember or care that I did 40 days. I mean sure, people are proud of me/ in awe of my craziness/ laughing at my ridiculousness etc etc but at the end of it all I’m doing 40 days for me. Yes, we support each other, yes, it’s easier to go through the journey with each other and with shared motivation but ultimately whether I complete 40 days or not is my choice and it is for me. THIS IS NOT SPARTA. There is no major punishment at the end of the challenge - you aren’t going to be banned from ABC for life if you don’t complete 40 days. You aren’t going to have to stand in front of a panel of your peers and explain why it is you didn’t make it. The only person you have to answer to is yourself. So only you can know if you gave it your all and completed the challenge. There is also no major external reward. (That I know of?! Unless I missed something?!) You aren’t going to skip the queue at home affairs because people know you did 40 days. There is no red carpet with obsessed journalists waiting for you outside work. The reward is internal. It is knowing that YOU made it. You had the dedication, the drive and the determination to show up for 40 classes. To show up and give it your all.

That also brings me to the idea of people showing up every day and cheating within class. Doing 14 reps instead of 18 just to finish first - what is the point? It’s not a race, your trainer doesn’t give you a gold star for finishing first (Maybe gold stars is a good plan for finishing in general - wink wink.) You are there to better yourself. Everyone is different. Everyone has different strengths and weaknesses. Honestly, mostly I finish my reps near the end of the group. I’m there to get stronger and fitter not for everyone else to think I’m Iron Woman. (I mean other than the fact that I am - I mean doubles. Every. day!) But seriously, surely the point is to be the best you?

Ok, so basically this rant is about self motivation. You are the only person you answer too. The motivation to be a fitter and stronger version of you. Don’t worry about everyone else. You are unique and therefore have a unique journey. Throughout life people’s admiration or ridicule or other thoughts about you will fade. If you live for other people’s beliefs about you, you will be miserable, guaranteed. If you are satisfied within yourself, proud internally of what you have accomplished, if the only person you live to impress is yourself then you will flourish. I’m not saying it isn’t nice. Don’t get me wrong - everyone loves a compliment. Everyone loves other people to notice their hard work and appreciate them but it cannot be your driving force. It’s a bonus to your own internal satisfaction. Its a little boost to your efforts not the reason for your efforts. I’m not saying we don’t need support and friends and family and people who care - of course we do but ultimately you need to be proud of yourself.

Ok well I hope this makes sense and rings true to some of you.

Tomorrow is D day!

Much love

A 30 something chubby girl

Ps. Sorry about the looooooong post but it’s not make up for all the ones I missed!

#exercise #getfit #beatwinter #40daychallenge #adventurebootcamp #motivation #selfmotivation #chubbygirl

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charliegeorge6160 · 10 months ago

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Elevate Your Home with Premium Expert Carpet Flooring Services

In your quest for superior Carpet fitters near me you and reliable carpet fitters, Pro Floors Luton stands out as the trusted partner for transforming your home Explore our exquisite collection of carpet flooring options https://www.tumblr.com/charliegeorge6160/740851157632679936/elevate-your-home-with-premium-expert-carpet

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yourbolderswedish · 7 years ago

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The ‘Golden Boy’ of bras

My favorite bra, aka Golden Boy, so named after a classic bit on ‘Seinfeld,’ fell victim to time yesterday.

Boundary-less confession: I need to go bra shopping.

Telling myself this is like saying: ‘Go rent a scissor lift and, maybe, some drywall stilts and buy 90 gallons of paint and start refreshing the front room like you’ve pledged to do for the past nine years.’

Or, better yet: ‘Go to the basement and start sorting through the 20 years of accumulated wealth we have banished there. Maybe pack up that Encyclopedia Britannica set Aunt Fay left you. Maybe box up the decades of REM and U2 CDs now scattered across the floor. Maybe disassemble that deathtrap treadmill with the slipping belt … I don’t know. Clean up the basement!’

Nothing about any of these chores speaks to me. Well, the scissor lift and drywall stilts really intrigue me but not enough to risk another compound fracture.

Back to my point: I need to buy some new bras.

Yesterday, the Golden Boy of bras fell victim to time. He didn’t make it.

My trusty black Under Armour running bra with the zipper front, aka Golden Boy, fell apart after going through the washing machine.

I called this bra Golden Boy after a pretty classic bit on ‘Seinfeld.’ (Note: If you know me and The Weed, you know we basically speak in TV show dialogues and movie quotes. It’s what keeps us happy and will ensure we win a couples-only game show some day.)

Golden Boy was Jerry’s favorite T-shirt. Seinfeld famously talked about Golden Boy with Elaine while she sat on his couch.

Seinfeld said: ‘See this T-shirt? Six years I’ve had this T-shirt. It’s my best one. I call him ‘Golden Boy.’ Golden Boy’s always the first shirt I wear out of the laundry.

‘Here … Touch Golden Boy,’ Jerry says offering the shirt to Elaine.

Elaine responds: ‘No thanks.’ (She’s talking on Jerry’s phone.)

‘But see. Look at the collar. It’s fraying,’ Jerry continues. ‘Golden Boy is slowly dying. Each wash brings him one step closer. That’s what makes the T-shirt such a tragic figure.’

Elaine chimes in: ‘Why don’t you just let Golden Boy soak in the sink with some Woolite?’

Jerry responds: ‘No! The reason he’s the Iron Man is because he goes out there and he plays every game. Wash. Rinse. Spin. Rinse. Spin. You take that away from him, you break his spirit!’

(Again, a note: I have included a photo from the Seinfeld bit with this blog because after I did an online search for Under Armour black zipper-front bras, I found a bunch of photos of skinny, athletic women smiling and wearing my Golden Boy. I don’t feel good about myself right now.)

Sure, the T-shirt is a tragic figure. Certainly, my Golden Boy bra was a tragic figure. That bra was with me for far too long because there is nothing more tragic than me, a woman twice diagnosed with breast cancer, going to a store and trying to buy a bra.

Fortunately, buying athletic bras is pretty easy. I usually go to a sporting goods store; grab at least 10 bras I think might accommodate my ridiculous chest; lock myself in a dressing room; take off my shirt; meticulously scan the room for any hidden cameras; lose my current bra; try on one or two new bras; sob a bit; and, finally, settle on one that holds my reconstructed breast mounds in place like those dinner rolls in the pressurized canister that explodes when you peel off the label.

This I can do. I don’t need a pep talk for this bra-purchasing trip.

It’s the trip to Nordstrom where I buy grown-up people bras that unsettles me.

I have done this once since going through treatment for breast cancer. That time, I bought six bras — spending about $700 so I wouldn’t have to return to the ‘unmentionables department’ again for a few years.

Sadly, I need to return to Nordstrom. I am nearing the end of my grown-up people bra treasury.

I shop there because Nordstrom offers a special fitting, breast prosthesis program for women who have gone through breast cancer.

The program pledges: ‘Our certified prosthesis fitters are specially trained to fit women for all intimate apparel following a mastectomy, lumpectomy or other reconstructive breast surgery.’

Learn more about the program here: http://shop.nordstrom.com/c/breast-prosthesis-program

My first trip to Nordstrom after having a lumpectomy, double mastectomy and reconstruction was something straight from a TV show comedy.

I should have pounded three gin and tonics before I went. However, I told myself I needed to be a decent human being and just buy some ‘good goddamned’ underwear. My inner monologue is riddled with creative swears.

When I got to the store, there was a nice sales lady standing at a counter, folding the largest granny underpants I have ever seen.

I said to myself: ‘That has to be some sort of sign. Abort! Abort! Abort!’

Too late, the sales lady saw me, smiled and asked: ‘May I help you?’

I responded in the hushed tones of an undercover agent behind enemy lines: ‘I need a bra fitting. I have gone through breast cancer treatments.’

At which point, the sales lady dropped the gigantic ass covers and ran around the counter and hugged me so tightly I almost cried. Not cool.

She introduced herself. She shook my hand. She told me she, too, had gone through breast cancer.

Ugh. This was going to be weird. I could feel the weird hairs on the back of my neck standing at full attention.

The sales lady ushered me into a nearby dressing room. Of course, she took me into the largest handicapped dressing room I have ever been in. I wanted to do some laps, maybe some speedwork.

Instead, she told me to take a seat while she grabbed a clipboard, tape measure and a chair for herself.

When the sales lady returned and sat down, she made some small talk about the Nordstrom program. She asked if I had insurance that would help pay for the bras. I did not. ‘Sonuva bitch … Damn it!’

Then, the sales lady asked if she could measure my chest. I said yes.

I knew this part was coming but it still wasn’t easy for me to peel out of everything above the waist and have this woman wrap a paper tape measure around my chest. To have breast cancer, one must become comfortable with a few things: 1. There is a lot (A LOT) of naked time. 2. You must learn to accept cold hands on your warm bits.

I’m still working on these two points. I’m not fully compliant yet.

So, as the sales lady measured my chest, I stared at the floor. I sang ‘Hava Nagila’ to myself. I noticed the carpet in the Nordstrom dressing room is kind of shabby. Then, I looked at the sales lady making notes about my chest.

She said: ‘Your left breast is larger than the right. That’s common. I wonder if you might need a prosthesis for your right cup, to balance everything.’

The sales lady continued: ‘I didn’t have reconstruction. So, I don’t have to deal with this stuff myself. See …’ as she lifted her shirt above her head like a toddler playing peekaboo.

I politely gaped at the women’s bare, flat, scarred chest and said: ‘Oh. Yeah. Well. Hmmm …’ All the while thinking: ‘It’s getting a little too soft core in the Nordstrom dressing room!’

With my utter dumbfoundedness before her, the sales lady dropped her shirt, fashionably arranged herself and left the room to find several different bras in my size.

When she returned, the department manager was with her. She introduced herself. Kept her eyes focused on mine even though I was sitting there without a shirt and my nippleless breasts were waving in her face, seeking her immediate attention.

The manager said: ‘You look great. What a nice reconstruction job. Congratulations on completing treatment.’

I smiled. Nodded. Thanked her and tried to move the process along before she decided she also needed me to see her bare chest up close and personal.

Eventually, I decided on an underwire bra that came in several colors and had a nice lacy design that covered my scars.

The sales lady showed me a prosthesis. Asked if I wanted to try it in the right cup. It was a small, flesh-colored, table-top coaster that looked like a raw chicken breast. I did not want to touch it let alone slide it into the bra cup against my skin.

I declined but took a photo of the prosthesis and texted it to The Weed. He was about as impressed with it as me. He responded: ‘Weird.’

With that, I asked for three white bras and three black bras in the lacy, underwire style. The sales lady grabbed them all, ushered me to the register, wrapped the bras in tissue paper and proudly swiped my credit card. We were nearing the end … Thank Christ!

As the sales lady came around from behind the register counter, she handed me the bag of bras — the most expensive bag of anything I have ever carried — and again hugged me.

This time, she was more delicate. I suspect she knew to hug me more gently this time because she had just seen Boobzilla and his slightly smaller friend, the treacherous, cancerous right boob, Cancer Joe.

She saw how my reconstructed chest is much different from hers. How if not properly restrained it will defy all manners of gravity.

She seemed to truly understand how difficult this was for me.

As I walked away, I stopped in the store’s management office. I completed a nice customer review about the sales lady’s service and the fitting program.

Then, I left the mall and headed straight to the liquor store. It was time for those gin and tonics.

#breastcancer breastcancerawareness GoldenBoy

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