#look what a stinky sock can do

[jmflowers]

Please dedicate to @lacallemojada

For APF, who underestimates how cute I can make disgusting things. And for Ducks, who humoured me and my ridiculous ideas.

Solemates

One of her socks goes missing the day after she wins gold.

Maya doesn’t notice right away, not until she’s packing her bags to leave the athlete’s village. Not until there’s only one sweaty, blood-covered sock in her pile of dirty clothes.

She looks for it, at first, because she isn’t really thinking about that. Isn’t thinking about anything except how her father probably wants to frame them, wants to hang them above the mantle in the living room as a testament to what a Bishop is capable of.

What a Bishop can win.

What a Bishop can overcome.

She gives up, after a while, when it’s clear there’s no sock to be found. Instead, she shoves her sports bras and her leggings and her training gear into her duffel bag, ignoring the sharp stench of sweat laced into the fabric.

Ignoring the sharp pinch of her ankle in the bandage wrapped around it.

When she steps out of her room for the last time, gold medal hanging heavily around her neck, she doesn’t look back. Doesn’t think too hard about the missing sock.

Doesn’t think at all about dropping the other one in the trash.

~

Carina’s living in Milan when it arrives.

Actually, living in is a generous term. She’s more gravitating, lugging herself between hotel rooms and friends’ couches with only a suitcase to her name.

It hurts too much to put down roots, still.

And she’s not really thinking about what anything means, when it shows up on the bathroom floor. Isn’t thinking anything beyond the grief sticking in her bones.

Or maybe that she should really find better accommodations if the cleaning staff would miss a disgusting, sweaty, bloody sock on the bathroom floor.

But then it does come rushing back, all at once. Her mother’s voice, soft and familiar and comforting, weaving a tale of soulmates and eternity and meant to be.

She isn’t expecting it, when it arrives. Has given up expecting that such a thing is even meant for someone such as her. But she doesn’t deny it, when it appears.

It’s too hard to ignore when it smells so bad.  

~

Her bra goes missing a couple months later, when she’s settled back into the spare room at Gabriella’s. And that Carina does notice right away, because she’d washed it and hung it in the bathroom with the intention of wearing it and the whole draw of moving back in with Gabri is that she doesn’t touch her stuff and –

Gabriella stares at her like she has grown an extra head when she asks. “Why would I take your bra?” she mutters, strolling past into the kitchen, “It wouldn’t fit me.”

She remembers again, then; remembers the sock wrapped in a plastic bag to hide its smell, shoved into the very bottom of her suitcase. It feels unfair, just a little, to know that someone, somewhere in the world, has gotten her nice bra and in return she’s received their disgusting sock.

Their bloody, sweaty, stinky sock.

At least her bra was clean.

~

Maya finds it in her pack while she’s sorting through her things on a hostel bed in Nepal.

She pales instantly, shoving it into the open pocket to hide it from her bunk mate. Shakti has been too intrigued by everything Maya has done in the last few days they’ve been together – from brushing her hair to doing sit ups on the floor.

Shakti doesn’t need to see the rather lacey bralette that’s somehow magically appeared in Maya’s pack.

Unless Shakti is the one…

No, Maya thinks instantly, there’s no way. It must’ve been one of the other girls, one of the other many people she’s crossed paths with in the last week of her travels.

A funny joke.

The fabric is soft beneath her fingers, despite the lace. Warm, almost.

And tiny; far too small to fit her own breasts.

She keeps it without much more thought, wondering if maybe she’ll cross paths with the girl who put it there. Wondering if maybe she’ll get a bit of practice removing it from the body it belongs to.

She doesn’t think about what the appearance of an undergarment is supposed to mean.

~

Andy gushes about it years later, grinning over a shot glass on her front porch.

She’d found her sock as a child, tucked beneath the covers of her bed. She thinks it belongs to Ryan, Maya knows, thinks the flirty glances they’ve been sharing across the front lawns of their parents’ houses mean they’re meant to be.

It all sounds ridiculous to Maya, though. Too far-fetched to be true.

Even if Vic has found one, too. An undershirt, stained with sweat, buried in the bottom of her gym bag while she was at the academy.  

“I bet that means he’s in really good shape,” Andy suggests, smirking salaciously.

“What about you, Bishop?” Vic asks, handing over another shot of vodka.

Maya laughs, throwing it back quickly, drinking away the memory of soft lace beneath her fingers. “Monogamy is for the weak,” she declares loudly, eyes shifting to Andy’s face and the sharp fall of her smile. “Or the very, very dedicated.”

“Not quite monogamy,” Vic challenges, glancing off towards the approaching form of Ryan.

“Yeah,” Andy whispers, “It’s soulmates.”

~

She doesn’t think about it, when Maya’s warm hand slides into her own, a drink and a story hovering between them. Doesn’t think about it when they talk on the phone, or over dinner, or beneath the covers of Maya’s bed.

Carina doesn’t even think about it when Maya shows her the gold medal for the first time, her fingers soft and her kisses softer.

In fact, she forgets about it at all until she shoves her hand into the bottom drawer of her dresser, searching for the last of her things to pack, and lands on the plastic bag instead.

She knows what’s inside without looking. Remembers the sweat stains and the blood and the smell. It’s ridiculous, to have hauled it along with her for all these years.

Ridiculous, that she drops it into the box alongside the rest of her clothes, destined for their new home with Maya.

~

Carina is very good at packing, Maya finds, but less so at unpacking.

Her boxes of things litter every surface of their newly-shared apartment, the only indication of Carina’s organization the carefully written labels stating that they are, at least, in the right rooms. Like the box of toiletries in the corner of the bathroom.

Or the one that’s taken up residence on top of the dresser instead of in it.

Maya starts there, carefully extracting articles of clothing Carina has deemed okay to be folded. Her other things – the nicer things – have already been hung safely in the bedroom closet, Maya’s own collection of rarely-worn dresses and jackets relegated down the hall to the living room.

She stops when she reaches the bottom, confused by the plastic bag nestled amidst Carina’s intimates. It smells a bit, even though it’s been carefully wrapped up, completely out of place within the gentle scent of Carina’s laundry detergent.

“Carina?” she calls before she can think better of it, before she can even really register what it might be, “Is this yours?”

“Oh,” Carina murmurs when she appears in the doorway, a spatula still in her hands. She lowers it slowly, considering.

“Is this yours?” Maya asks again.

Carina frowns. “Sort of,” she nods, “It’s my… sock.”

“Oh,” Maya repeats, glancing down at it in her hands, “Oh.”

“You can throw it out,” Carina suggests, turning back towards the kitchen, “I don’t need it.”

“Hey, wait,” Maya calls after her, following, still clutching the offending object tightly. “How long have you had this?”

Carina shrugs, suddenly indifferent as she resumes unpacking her kitchen boxes, carefully arranging items in drawers. She’s good at it, now that she’s trying to deflect.

“You don’t even want to open it?” Maya offers. “One last time?”

Carina shakes her head. “I don’t need to.” She looks up, smiling softly, effortlessly yanking the breath from Maya’s lungs when she promises, “I love you, Maya.”

“Besides,” she adds on as an afterthought, waving her hand between them as though dismissing it, “It’s stinky and sweaty and covered with blood. I should’ve thrown it out years ago.”

“Now I have to see it,” Maya laughs, grabbing hold of Carina’s wrist to pull her closer.

“It doesn’t change anything,” Carina argues, tipping into Maya’s arms, “I am still choosing you, bambina.”

“But what if we’re sole mates,” Maya chuckles anyways, teasing even as Carina’s words send a flood of butterflies through her stomach. “What if it’s my sock inside this bag?”

“If it is,” Carina whispers, nuzzling closer, “I’d like my own sock drawer, because yours are very gross.”

She unwraps it slowly, both of them recoiling slightly as the years-old sweat reaches their noses. It’s plain looking, beneath the blood stains; simple.

Except for the Team USA logo on the toes.

“Oh,” Maya mumbles.

She steps away, slowly at first and then quickly, her feet picking up speed as her mind does. She dashes towards the living room closet, reaching on her tiptoes for the box tucked into a corner on the shelf.

She should’ve known, she thinks. Should’ve considered, that first night. The first time she pulled lace up and away from Carina’s body. The first time Carina’s array of bras appeared along the top of the shower door, hung to dry.

The first time her fingers felt the warmth of soft fabric beneath them.

Maya opens the box slowly, uncovering the bralette she’s kept for all these years.

“Oh,” Carina echoes when she turns. “Oh.”

“My sock,” Maya whispers, stumbling back across the room to Carina’s side, feeling the pull of her like gravity. “My Olympic Gold Medal sock.”

“Now I definitely want my own drawer,” Carina declares, dipping low to capture Maya’s mouth with her own, “And my favourite bra back.”

[katsu28]

slow down, be here

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: after a long, frustrating day of training, a night in with you is just what lando needs to leave it all in his rearview mirror (2.4k)

warnings: teensy but of swearing, reader is in university but major is unspecified, lando being a certified menace

a/n: i was gonna post this sometime next week but the lando girlies (aka me) need some comfort after today's shitshow. may or may not have been entirely inspired by that video of lando in the white singlet. that look (however fleeting) did things to me okay

You’re sitting at the kitchen counter when you hear Lando’s key in the door, one leg drawn up towards your chest, the other swinging aimlessly as you revise your notes last minute. 

Well, more specifically, when you hear him drop his keys on the floor in search of the correct one right before he inserts it into the lock. You’ve loved him and lived with him long enough to know it’s something he does everyday without fail. Whether it’s because he’s got clumsy hands or he’s Pavloved himself into dropping them at the same spot, you don’t think too much about it. The key drop signals that Lando is home. 

What also signals that he’s home is the way he lets out the strangest sound you’ve ever heard as he lets the door swing shut behind him after he’s let himself in—something between a sigh and a whine mixed with a guttural groan. 

“In here!” You call, taking the cap of your pen out from between your teeth. It only takes a few seconds until Lando emerges from the hallway, socked feet dragging himself towards where you’re sitting with a soft smile aimed at his rumpled state. “Hi, love.” 

He plops down on the stool next to you unceremoniously, hooking his foot under the bar of yours to tug you as close as possible to him on instinct. His chin finds the dip between your neck and shoulder to nestle into, and the deflating sigh he lets out once he’s situated himself to his liking sends a shiver through you. “Hi.” He mumbles, voice muffled. 

“Heard you’ve had quite a day.” You stroke a hand over his curls, smoothing them away from his forehead gently. Oscar had shot you a heads up text a little bit before Lando had arrived, saying that Lando might seem a bit put out when he got home. Something about a handful of tests not going the way they wanted, strategies not working out the way they planned. It sounds like enough to drive anyone crazy, but Lando is the type of person to take things especially hard. 

Lando lets out a vague sound of acknowledgement. You can tell he’s exhausted and frustrated, and you know exactly what he needs to wind down after days like these. “I’ll order takeaway for dinner. You go shower. It’ll probably be here by the time you finish up.” 

He gives a more content sigh this time, pressing a kiss to your pulse point. The tips of his hair tickle your cheek as he does so. “You’re a gem, darling.” 

“Tell me something I don’t know.” You tease, pushing him away playfully. He’s smiling big at you when you meet his gaze, something beyond fondness behind his eyes despite the tiredness as he does. “What?” 

“I love you.” 

“Love you too, stinky. Now go. Wash up before I make an executive decision and order sushi.” 

That gets your boyfriend scrambling to his feet fast, aiming a horrified look your way as he books it down the hallway. “You monster!” 

You chuckle quietly, busying yourself with finding Lando’s favorite Italian spot on your delivery app. Soon enough, the food is ordered and all you have to do now is wait.  

Lando reemerges from the bedroom just as you pull open the front door to grab the food from the delivery person. He figures you’ve got it handled by the way you’re chatting nicely with them, so he busies himself with drinks. 

There’s a bottle on top of the fridge that looks vaguely fancy, and though Lando doesn’t know much about wine, Charles had gifted him the bottle a while ago for his birthday. He trusts Charles’ taste. 

He does his best to sound out the French on the label and shrugs, snagging two wine glasses to go along with it. By the time he finishes pouring a generous amount in each glass, you’ve just closed the door, joining him in the kitchen with a massive bag of food. His brows fly into his hairline at the sight. 

You twist your lips to the side in thought, wrinkling your nose as you study the bulging paper bag. “I might’ve ordered too much.” 

“Good thing I always rise to the occasion.” 

You glance up at him, setting it down on the counter in favor of sidling over to where he is, not even fighting the smitten grin stretching your lips as you maneuver yourself between him and the marble. 

His curls are damp, messily towel ruffled and starting to frizz as they air dry. He already looks more at ease, comfier than ever in a pair of loose black sweatpants and a white singlet. You make a mental note to remind him to wear white more. It makes his tan skin glow, and it makes you not want to take your eyes off him. 

Your fingers skate along the exposed skin of his chest, stopping once to push into those dimples in his cheeks that you love so much before moving up to link around the back of his neck. His hands find their way to your waist at the same time, sliding coyly under the hem of your shirt to rest on your bare skin. 

In one fell swoop, you’re up on the counter, Lando nudging his way between your knees. He kisses you languidly, like he has all the time in the world to explore your mouth; long, slow kisses mixed in with brief pecks until you’re all but melting against him. He’s familiar and solid under your touch, all flexing muscle and warm skin as your hands run along his arms. 

After a while, Lando’s focus shifts to trailing open mouthed kisses down the side of your neck. On instinct, you tilt your head to give him more space to work and he takes it gladly, focusing on that one spot just below your ear that he knows for a fact works on you every time. 

You sigh appreciatively at the pressure of his lips against your skin, the way his teeth nip at that sweet spot but his tongue sneaks out to soothe the sting just as quick. 

Your fingers dig into his biceps as he continues his venture, but when he starts kissing along your shoulder, you squeeze a little harder. As much as you want to continue this, you remember you’ve got food waiting for both of you. He stops immediately, perfect lips pouted, eyes wide when he comes back up to gauge your reaction. 

“Eat first, kiss later.” You explain, peeling him off you (albeit a bit reluctantly) before hopping off the countertop. He whines something unintelligible as you unload the food, but as soon as you push a container of his favorite pasta towards him, he seems to forget his disappointment. 

The silence as you eat is comfortable, both of you seemingly more hungry than you thought you were as the food and wine begin to disappear. All the while, the space between the two of you grows smaller and smaller, until your elbows start to bump each other with each bite you take. 

You’ve mastered the art of enjoying each other’s company without having to say a word. 

“Were you revising earlier? When I came home?” He asks after a while, jabbing his fork in the direction of your notes. A few strands of pasta splatter onto the counter with the action and you tsk, nudging him with your foot. The last thing you want is sauce all over your papers. 

“Yeah, I was. Just some final practicing, see if anything needs tweaking before I have to present my thesis.” 

“I’m sure it’s perfect. You’ve been working on it for ages.” 

You spear a chunk of tomato with your fork, dragging it around in the sauce aimlessly. “I dunno. Everything is there, but it still feels like something’s missing.” 

“Present it to me.” 

“What?” 

“Pretend I’m the university board, or whatever, and present it to me. Maybe you’ll figure out what’s missing if you act like it’s the real thing.” 

“Really? You’d do that for me?” 

Lando scoffs, looking offended. “Baby, I’d do anything for you. Go on, do your little scholar thing for me. I’ll be the best fake board you’ve ever seen.” You gnaw on your lip, unsure. The idea seems silly, but it’ll probably work. “C’mon, bub. You’ve got a genius brain up there in that pretty head of yours, let me see it in action.” 

“Okay. Okay, fine, but you can’t be mean! You have to be nice, ‘cause I’m already freaking the fuck out about having to present next week and I don’t think I can deal with—” 

“First of all, I’m never mean to you. Second of all, get the fuck up there before I take my offer back.” 

You stick your tongue out at Lando whilst you grab your papers at the other end of the counter, feigning swatting him with them as he bounces his way over to the couch. He settles in right smack dab on the middle cushion, grabbing a pillow to hug while you do a quick once over of everything. Then you’re ready. 

You stumble through your introduction a little bit, but the words start flowing a few sentences into the body of your research—days, weeks, months of work having burned them straight into your brain. The longer you talk, the more comfortable you become, which gives you the confidence to set aside your notes for once. Part of you feels like you’re about to clam up and forget everything any second now, but you don’t. You forge on like you were born to. 

All that comes to a halt when you hasten a glance over at Lando, who’s staring at you without a thought behind those gorgeous eyes of his, smiling goofily at you. 

“Lando!” You whine, pouting. “Have you even heard a word I’ve said?” 

Lando blinks a few times like he’s coming back down to Earth, letting a sheepish grin creep its way across his face. “Not really.” 

“Seriously?” 

“I’m sorry! You just look really pretty when you talk about things you’re passionate about. It’s hard to focus on words when I look at you.” 

Well, you can’t exactly be mad at him when he’s sweet like that. Besides, you didn’t think he’d understand half of what you were saying anyways, and you’ve found the answer to your problems. Nothing was missing. Lando was right, you’re fully prepared for your thesis presentation. You just needed to get your nerves out of the way. 

“Worst fake board ever.” You huff. 

“But I just said you look pretty!” 

You prop a hand on your hip. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Norris.” 

“Oh yeah? Nowhere, really?” He rises from his seat, creeping towards you with that glint in his eyes you know far too well. You know what he’s about to do, and you’re about ready to make a run for it. 

He bridges the gap between the two of you faster than you think possible, catching you around the waist right before you can make your great escape down the hallway, hoisting you off your feet with ease despite your wriggling around like a fish out of water, and hauling you over to the couch. He tosses you over the back of it just as easily, following suit before you can scramble away. 

Realistically, you should've anticipated the whip fast reflexes of a professional racing driver. Having a faster reaction time than the average person is part of the job description. 

“Lando, no!!!” You squeal, already breaking into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. 

“Maybe flattery won’t get me anywhere, but I know what might!” He pins you down against the cushions with your knees clamped between his own as he digs his fingers into your sides viciously, ignoring your pleas in favor of grinning wickedly. 

“I give up! I give up, please—” You gasp, squirming under his relentless torture. One of his hands comes up to pin both your wrists down easily, probably so you don't punch him in the face trying to escape. (You’ve done it once before, purely by accident, but Lando’s never let you forget it.) 

“Say that you love me.” 

“You already know I do!” 

“Wanna hear you say it.” He insists, jabbing you in the side threateningly. 

You shake your head frantically. You’re near tears at this point, stomach hurting from laughing so much. There’s no point in dragging it out any longer, especially when sweet, sweet freedom is as easy as telling the love of your life that you love him. “I love you!” 

“What was that?” He tilts his head, brows raising expectantly. 

“I love you, Lando Norris.” You repeat, as steady as you can despite your breathlessness. That seems to satisfy him. 

He gives it up entirely, wedging himself between you and the back of the couch, making himself comfortable as you try to catch your breath. You roll over onto your side so you’re facing him, allowing him more space to nuzzle against you. “You’re a dickhead.” 

“I’m your dickhead, and you love me.” He replies smugly, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His arms worm their way underneath you and link up behind your back, legs tangling with yours. At this point, you’re not sure where you end and he begins, which is just the way Lando always likes it. 

“Against my better nature, I do.” You sigh, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. He hums sleepily, exhaling in deep comfort. “I’m sorry you had a rough go of it today.”

“S’fine. Nothing you’ve got to be sorry about. You’ve already made it better.” He mumbles. He already sounds like he's about to drift off.

“D’you want to talk about it?” 

Lando lifts his head to look up at you, blinking slowly. He offers you a small smile. “Not really. Just wanna lay here with you and forget about it all.” 

“Okay.” You say softly. 

You might not be able to help him with everything in life, but this, you can do. You thread one hand through his hair, smoothing through his curls in that one way you know he loves. Your other hand comes up around his back, fingers scratching a gentle path up and down his spine. 

If Lando was a cat, he’d be purring right now. 

Instead he opts for an appreciative groan, pushing his nose back into the warm nook he’d created. His lips press against your skin—once, twice, a third time for good measure. “Thank you.” 

Whether he’s thanking you for scratching his back or for just being here for him on the days he feels like he’s not at his best, you’re not sure, but either way you give him a tight squeeze and another kiss in lieu of a response. 

You’ll do anything if it means making sure he knows you’ve always got him. 

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[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.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#382

“Oh, sorry to startle you there.  You must be Robby Anderson.  Coach Thomas said that I could use the Away Team locker room for the privacy in showering and cleaning up.  He also said that you might be lurking in here.  No, no.  You don’t have to leave or even cover up.  I have been in many locker rooms and around naked young men all my life.  You have nothing I haven’t seen before.  In fact, I’m about to take a shower.  Join me….

“I’m Doug Mason.  I’m a scouting for local high school football talent.  I’ve been watching a number of your school’s players in the heat.  I am really in need of this shower. 

“Damn these socks have my stinky foot sweat.  Hoo-wee!  They are nasty.  Wanna take a sniff?...  Sure you do.  Take them….  I said ‘Take them!’  Hold them up to your nose and inhale deeply….  You like that smell hunh?...  Of course you do.  You are tenting in your shorts.

“Take them off.  Let me see your pecker….  Look it’s just us.  And I already know you are a sperm burper.  Coach Thomas told me….  What?  You didn’t know he knew?  Well…

“Shorts!  Off!… 

“See that wasn’t hard.  Well, the decision wasn’t hard, but your tiny pecker sure as hell is.  No, don’t hide it.  I like the look of it.  It’s small, but so are you.  You are what?  5’3” and 120 pounds?...  Yeah, I’m pretty good at sizing men up.  I was off by only a few pounds.  That pecker is what four inches?  For a small guy like you, it’s perfect. 

“Now me, I got a foot on you, and I’m more than double your weight.  And as you can see by my bulge I my jock, I’m more than double your dick size.  Wanna see it?...  Of course you do.  Kneel in front of me.  Reach up and pull my jock down….  Slowly.

“Smell that?  That’s all-natural man sweat.  No. No. Not yet.  You’ll taste it in a bit.  I know you like the smell of men sweating.  But above all, I know you love to sniff ass.  Here’s mine. 

“Hairy, just the way you like it.  Reach up and pull my meaty cheeks apart.  Take a deep whiff.  Smells nasty hunh?  That’s what we are going to start with—you cleaning my shithole.

“But let’s do it where you normally clean Erich sweaty shithole, in the shower area.  Go.

“I’m really surprised that you haven’t asked me how I know so much about you.  I mean you are known to clean out rank shitholes and then take a pile driving in your cunt.  For a plain looking 18-year old senior in high school, that’s pretty amazing.  And you kept it quiet, even better.

“Lay wherever you normally do.  Get that tongue out, cause my ass is coming down to sit on your face….  It’s been a while since I played in a shower.  Stay still….  Oh man.  You are wasting no time; that tongue is going in deep.

“Coach Thomas doesn’t know that you are a world class pig under that meek, math nerd, submissive exterior.  I don’t know what it is about guys into math, but they are pretty much twisted as fuck. 

“Coach only knows that you hook up with quarterback Erich Schneider before and after each game, as part of some superstition thing that Erich has.  I talked with him... Erich.  You know he’s the reason why I’m out here.  Nobody else on the team is of the caliber that he is.

“I took him to lunch and I point blank asked him if he had a fag on the side.  He asked me how I found out.  I told him Coach Thomas.  He was panicked.  I said he’s known for a year or so, and that he’s not to worry as nobody has said anything.  His job is to make each player the best he can be.  And to do that he needs to know what a player is sticking in his stomach and what a player is sticking his dick into at all times.

“Get up.  Let’s get the shower going.  I want you to take this washcloth and wash me down.  Spend some time washing my cock.  I know you want to play with it.  But while you are doing that listen up.

“I’m a lot like your Coach.  If I’m going to offer a scholarship to a player, I need to know everything going on in that player’s life.  Having a faggot on the side can be a problem, but that depends on the faggot.  Having an ass eater faggot to improve one’s game performance is understandable.  Erich is ready to ditch you, but I have an idea.

“After talking with Coach Thomas, he says that you got into the university, but didn’t get in on scholarship.  He also said that your family can’t afford it, and yet make too much money for financial aid.  I’m going to make you an offer.

“As I said, I want Erich to come play for us.  If I can offer you as an incentive, he won’t be able to turn us down.  If you want to be one of our students, I can arrange to help you out.  But your primary purpose is to provide Erich whatever he needs: eat his ass before a game, fuck you after a win, or beat the fuck out of you after a loss.  Your holes are his to use as he sees fit.  You would still need to get a job to help support yourself.  And if anything should happen to break it off with you, the assistance I am offering would dry up in an instant.

“That’s option one.  Option two has all the same service to Erich, but you live with me and possibly one other fag on my ranch.  I live on six acres outside the county line about ten minutes from the main campus.  You would be servicing me as well.  I know you can take a face sitting.  I have seats made for that for you to lay under.  And you will take a mean fuck every day. 

“I love tiny fag boys like you.  Just look at my cock right now.  I am hard just thinking about it.  If the shower wasn’t going you would see my leak.  I wasn’t planning on fucking you, but you are too much for me not to.  Lather me up.

“If you live with me, I can arrange to get your schooling paid for.  I just need to whore you out to one of the administrators, actually two of them.  They can set it up so that all your tuition and fees are paid for.  You will need to get good grades.  I will control your study times as well.  You will be whored out to whoever I choose.  And I know a lot of men.  Someone with your size, cute looks, and demeanor will be in demand.  The fact that you are barely legal alone will have the men asking me.  And they will pay.

“Now reach behind you and lube up that cunt.  I need to take it for a ride.  If it’s not to my liking—kinda hard to believe—the second option is off the table.  At the end, when I pull my deflating cock out of your gaping cunt, you will let me know which option you want. 

“I can’t take it anymore.  Get on the floor, face down.  Don’t reach for your pecker.  In fact let me see your hands at all time.  There is only one dick that matters here, and it sure as fuck ain’t yours.

“I can fuck for hours, but this needs to be quick.  I need to get back to Erich and Coach Thomas.  You ready for some pile driving?  If not, I don’t care. 

“…Am I crushing you?  Aww.  Well you need to adapt to the cock in your cunt.  And this hole is definitely a cunt.  Men will use it for their pleasure.  Men will use you for their convenience.  That makes you a faggot.  Everyone else will think of you as gay, but you know that you are different.  You know that you need to be controlled and used by real men.

“Your cries echo in this shower, and it sounds like music.  I’m getting close.  Your guts are going to be flooded.  I’m gonna knock you up, knock you up real good.  Here it comes!  Here it comes baby!  Here it fucking cums. Here it cuuuuuuummmms!  Fuck yeah!  Uh, Uh!

“Fuck.  Fag.  Your cunt is gold.  You may be a small fag, but your cunt is deep.  Mmmm.  I could lay here all day on top of you.  But I need to pull out, and you need to clean off my cock.

“Get on your knees.  No, you are not cleaning me up with soap.  Open your mouth and take me in.  Clean up services are required of all faggots I’m control over.  It’s a courtesy to the men who just gave their loads. 

“Don’t think about it.  Just do….  Atta boy.  Did you think any further about my offers?  You want to be Erich’s ass eater on campus?  Or you want to be one of my boys? 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.  I can see it in your eyes you want this life.  Good.  I’m going to transform you into one hell of a faggot cunt boy.

“You can tell your parents that you got a math scholarship, or whatever.  This starts next August.  That’s nine months away.  Until then, you will not pursue other men, at least ones I have not pre-approved of.  That does not apply to Erich, who you will never say no to. 

“You will report to Coach Thomas at the end of each school day.  You have gym as your last class.  That will make it easy.  He will provide any further instructions.  And he doesn’t require any pre-approval either.  Although I don’t think he will do anything; he doesn’t use current students.  He’ll watch out for you though.  I will guarantee, once you graduate in June, he will make a move on you.

“He and I have a long history together.  We both like the same type of fag boys, like you.  He and I belong to a group of men who like to share barely legal boys. 

“There’s a bunch of us meeting tomorrow night for hood night.  Everyone wears a hood, both faggots and men.  The only difference is the faggots are blindfolded.  I will take you there.  And you will be open to any man there.  They are not going to ask permission to use you.  But what will most likely happen is that you will be taken and used all night by one man to service his beercan dick.  That will be Coach Thomas.  Even with you hooded, he will still know it’s you, but if anything ever came out about it, he can plausibly deny that he didn’t know. 

“I can tell by how rock hard your pecker that you like the idea. 

“Erich doesn’t need to know anything about this network of men, including Coach Thomas.  I have yet to fully figure him out.  You will let me and Coach Thomas know if he does anything different.

“Your tongue bath on my dick feels so good.  But I need to get dressed.  Here take my socks.  They are yours.  When you are jacking off, I want you to inhale their rank smell.  I want you to think of me.  My jock is for another boy.  I’ll get you one of Coach Thomas’s jocks to enjoy as well.

“As of right now, you can jerk off as much as you want.  Use my socks or his jock to focus your thoughts and fantasies on us.  For the next nine months before you move in with me, you are going to spend a lot of time by yourself.  Jerking off and thinking of servicing us will keep you in the right head space.

“Oh look Erich is coming in….

“Erich!  I have some good news!  I have been authorized to offer you a full scholarship to come play with us, with your own private room in our dorm, and a stipend for meals.  That’s officially.  Unofficial, you were telling me that you are going to miss your ass eater here.  Well, he’s agreed to start the same time as you.  He’ll be staying with me.  I’ll make sure he will be available for you to use any time you need him throughout your time with us.  You could come by my place for privacy.  Or, if it’s close to game time, I have access to a private spot for you to use right by the field. 

“I told you that I could get him for you.  I’m quite known for getting the unspoken perks for my players.

“I know you have a ripe ass in need of some deep cleaning.  And you are right, the fag most definitely knows how to do it.  Thanks for letting me use him.  If I didn’t experience his talents, I would not have made him that offer.  I think this is a good situation for all.  I’ll be in touch later so we can celebrate over dinner.  Bring your family, your girlfriend, whoever you want.

“Fag, I will be in touch tomorrow about arranging that meeting.

“You two have fun.  I have to go talk to Coach Thomas about a coaching event he should attend tomorrow night.”

[wakeup01]

hi i would love if you could transform me into your stupid foot slave.

Clean Slate

“What do you want to be in life?” I ask you as we relax at my place at the end of our date. You give a rather non committal shrug as I peel off my socks and rest my feet on the living room table.

“Huh. No career ambitions? Artist, scientist…cleaner?” I smile at you as you approach and sit across from me, scrunching your nose slightly while the scent of my feet wafts over to you.

“N—no. I guess not.” You reply sheepishly, your eyes leaving mine as they lower to my large feet.

“I’m sure we can find your place in life. You probably have lots to give. Talented at many things. Such as…cleaning.” I sway my feet back and forth on the table as I watch your eyes follow them. “Just keep watching.”

“Huh?” Distracted, you don’t even look away. My feet and their movements were utterly fascinating. “I—I don’t…”

“Cleaning.” I repeat bluntly. “I bet you’re good at cleaning.” Your back bends as you naturally feel yourself lean forward, your head lowering slightly as my feet take up more of your vision. I hear you take a tentative sniff, your eyes glazing over.

Cleaning.

“Cl—cleeaning.” You slur as a bit of drool slides from your mouth. I give a little snicker as I witness you lick your lips. Your head begins to sway along with my hypnotic sweaty feet. Mirroring it’s motion. The smell at this point was incredibly overpowering, burning away your feeble inhibitions. My feet are fucking your mind, my toes pushing to the back of your skull. Reshaping your soft brain like playdoh. Back and forth. Back and forth…

“See, I’m not so much looking for a ‘boyfriend’. Too much maintenance. But I’m sure we can find a use for you. Cleaning clothes perhaps? Maybe bathroom cleaning? No. Cleaning…feet.” I look down and validate you with a smirk.

Cleaning. Feet.

“Foot cleaning. Yes, yes I think that’s your place in life. A mindless foot cleaner. Cleaning my rank feet. You’re very skilled at it.” I assert, placing my hand on your head and guiding you closer. “It’s okay. Some of us are meant to improve the world, some of us are meant to be productive members of society. And some of us, some of us are meant to lick the space between men’s toes.”

“I…no. Please.” You plead as your face enters my feet’s gravitational pull. The musk flowing up your nose and swimming around your emptied, foot fucked mind. They smelled just as you suspected they would, of feet. Your attention is captivated by a bead of sweat on my sole. It didn’t belong there, there on my perfect feet. You feel an impulse growing. A need. You needed to…needed to…

“Clean.” I answer for you. Making everything suddenly fall into place. It just made sense. “Clean my stinky feet.”

You shudder, any hint of resistance fading in an instant. Your mouth obediently opens and your tongue glides down the length of my sole, picking up all the sweat and grime that gathered from our long walk. The taste is sour and foul but for some shameful reason, that stirs your cock. You didn’t want this, but not wanting it made you so unbelievably hard. My feet had successfully hypnotised your mind, conditioning you to kneel at the mere sight of them. Seeing my sole was the only trigger needed for your mouth to water, for your thoughts to dissipate. For you to become no more than a rag to wipe my feet clean.

“Always glad to see someone enjoy their job so immensely.” I bend forward and pin a little badge to your shirt. The two words printed on it in basic typeface describe your entire existence ‘Foot Cleaner’. Now no one, including you would be confused about your role in life.

“Cweeann siiir.” You moan with a mouth full of my flavourful foot cheese.

I laugh above you, flexing my arms as you perform your job. “Good boy. Good foot cleaner. Lick every inch until they’re glistening with your saliva. Aren’t you happy I helped you find the height of your aspirations at the bottom of my feet. Dumb idiot.”

“Yusss, thank you sir.” You wanted to be a good obedient boy for master.

“Shut up and work.” I shove my feet into you, rubbing them across your face. “I expect my feet to be spotless slave. You will be here every evening from now on to fulfil your duty. And then you will pay me for the privilege like the pathetic foot slut that you are.”

Do I make myself clear?

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[Rambling Something in Few Sentences - Fluff version]

TF141*Reader. Different Seasons with different members, Same love and FLUFF 🫡💖pls come here if you want angst version :D

Gaz - Spring

“Hey Kyle, this shop got cherry blossom theme donuts!” He gets pulled to the bakery and comes out with 10 donuts in the paper bag.

“They have a Spring discount for chocolates, let’s buy some!” another 5 bags of white chocolates are added to the bag.

“New marshmallows for picnic? we can eat this on our picnic next week!”He watches you grab 3 different flavors and head to the counter.

“Didn’t you just tell me you’re on a diet yesterday?”

“What did you just say, Garrick?”

“Nothing, honey.”

Ghost - Summer

“the weather just makes the air humid and stinky”

“Two windmills are standing on a wind farm, One asks, “What’s your favorite type of music?””

“mmhmm”

“The other says, “I’m a big metal fan.” “

“Thank you baby, the room’s fucking dry now.”

“Good.” He doesn’t move his eyes from the pages, just pats your head that’s resting on his chest and keeps reading.

Soap - Autumn

“Finally finish cleaning these shite.” Johnny wipes off the sweat on his forehead and proudly looks at the leaves you two just swept into a huge pile.

“...”

“Bonnie?”

He jumps when he sees you staring at the pile of leaves, and suddenly start dashing and jumping into it with face down.

“damn Johnny this is fun!” Your muffled voice coming when you wiggle your limbs like a starfish makes him burst into laughter.

Fuck it, it won’t kill him to do this whole thing again. He thinks as he runs and slumps into the leaves beside you and drags you into his embrace, enjoying your warm body pressed against him and the pleasant giggles from you.

Price - Winter

“Best ways to warm yourself, number 1: shoving your sock feet into your husband’s sweater.” He chuckles when you tuck your feet under his sweater and rest them on his tummy.

“Best ways to warm yourself, number 2: rob your husband’s blanket.” He scoots closer to you on the couch when you wrap his blanket tightly around you two.

“Best ways to warm yourself, number 3: hug your husband like you’re a koala and steal his warmth.” You sitting on his lap and clinging to him like he’s a trunk makes his heart melt at your cuteness.

“Best ways to warm yourself, number 4” He scoops you up and carries you back to the bedroom “Have a pretty partner and show your love to them on your bed.”

[notartisticdraw]

Individual designs.

All together; lined up. The second, more colorful image displays their ages and heights. Cray and Palette's hats make them appear taller, so I have the colored blocks in the back:

Goth - red || Palette - yellow || Cray - blue/gray

Lastly, their original designs compared to their new ones.

ALSO HELLO!!! WELCOME TO MY FATASS REDESIGN POST!!

Considering I'm currently back in my huge UT AU phase right now, I decided to redesign the main trio since I had a lot of drawings and comics planned, and their old designs are kinda stinky :( (they were originally based off of aesthetics and what I thought was cool. I didn't even fathom the idea of considering their personality or occupations)

There's a lot of newer specific design choices I made for their updated designs---things such as Cray's hands being now constantly slathered in spray paint or Goth atrociously wearing socks over his sweats. If there's any questions, DMs are open :)

For anyone new who doesn't know me, no, I do not support the creator of PJs Daycare. She's the skidmark of the community, which sucks since some of her AUs were really interesting concept-wise. This AU focuses primarily on the relationships between Goth, Palette, and Cray as young adults. Most of the children from the daycare would be teenagers, and I even had a few drawing ideas with them included. And yeah, PJ would be an old, crusty man in this AU :(

Anyway, everything from the original AU remains the same, including how the creators of all of the individual characters are their parents, EXCEPT for how Rouge decided to depict specific events. These events will either be omitted or reworked.

If anyone has any requests on what any characters from the original AU look like, send an ask, and I'll see what I can do

ANYWAY ANYWAY these redesigns took me like 9 hours to draw :( I have a speedpaint that's gonna go up soon, but ngl I didn't record small parts bc I was embarrassed :((((((

For anything related to this AU, I'm going to use the #pjsdaycare10yearslater hashtag, so my stuff is easier to find (also so people hopefully don't mistake it for content outside of the AU)

Palette Roller - @lasseutblogo

Spray Cray - @spraycray // @weezy-pup

Goth Reaper - @nekophy

[subfootboii]

[Phone call]

"Hey Luke, how are you doing today buddy?"

"I'm fine... a bit disappointed after yesterday's interview. Thought I'll find a job at your company."

"That's what I'm calling you for buddy. While you don't qualify to any open position at my company, I noticed something yesterday maybe come over today... I think can create a special position for my best friend."

"Thank you so much. What would this position be?"

"We'll discuss that in my office. Don't be late."

"On my way."

You've lost your job a while back and you couldn't find any place to work at, so Alex - you're best friend- decided to help you out but you didn't qualify to any position and now that he called you back you went as fast as you can.

You reached his company and made you way to his office. His secretary looked like she was expecting you and told you to go in. You went in to his big luxurious office and he was smirking as he stood up to give you a hug.

"Thank you so much for doing this Alex."

"Least I can do to my best friend. Please have a seat."

You sat down and he looked at you for a while before speaking.

"I'm a bit tired today... would you mind if I propped my feet up? You know I'm so busy all the time I just need some rest."

"Sure not. Please be as comfortable as you like."

He smirked and propped his feet up on the desk with his shoes facing you.

"Maybe it's the shoes? Would you mind taking it off Luke? Something feels uncomfortable. I just need to air my feet."

"Sure I'll take them off."

"I know you will."

He smirked again while you removed his shoes. A stinky manly aura hit your nose making you let out a quiet moan.

"While you're at it would you mind taking the socks off to?"

"Anything to make you comfortable."

"Such an amazing friend. I knew I can always count on you."

You took his socks off and the smell became more intense. You looked at him to see him look straight at you smirking again.

"So about that position Alex..."

"Enjoying it? Looks like it suits you well."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh come on Luke. I've noticed how you look at my huge feet. Never thought much about it until yesterday. You spent most of the interview taking peaks at them from under the desk. You don't have a job, I'm offering the best one you could find. 'Office foot boy'. Take it or leave it."

"What? I... I'm not sure what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. It's not a part of your job. Besides your tongue will be busy licking my feet."

"I..."

"Listen it's well paid but you have to work hard. You kike feet so this shouldn't be a problem. Massages, kisses, and licks. That's all I need from you. I need an answer fast. Preferably not a verbal one."

You were nervous and surprised. You certainly didn't see this coming but you needed a job and you actually loved his feet. They're big and smelly and you've wanted to have your tongue all over them for years. You sat there for a minute and then approached his feet and planted a quick kiss at his soles.

"Good boy. See I knew you'd take it. Wait give me second I'll cancel my meeting for today to train and welcome you into my company."

He called his secretary and informed her to delay all his meeting for another day. He pointed at his feet and told you to start licking. At some point he took his short off and started reading a book.

"Switch to massage mode now foot boy. Two hours and your first day is over. Good job so far."

(Story suggestion by: @276stix)

[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.

[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.

[teapartyprincess4two]

hi i love ur older sister oneshots. i was wondering if you could write one of the sister and matt? like maybe it’s a flashback of when matt was like 17 or 18 or something or even in the present but he kinda becomes really protective over the sister after seeing one of his friends or maybe influencer friends like flirt with her? he starts like throwing his arm sound her and not letting her leave his sight etc and the sisters just confused because obviously she’s married but matt still can’t help but be protective or maybe this is when matt is in high school i don’t know 😭

Big Sister PT.3- Sturniolo Triplets

pairing: BigSister!Reader x LittleBrother!Triplets

classification: platonic fluff, sibling banter

warning: use of Y/n, slight cursing, mention of jealousy, overprotective brothers, Sam and Colby are in this ofc, short

inspiration: requests^^, Ghost Hunting at Haunted Driscoll Hotel (ft. Sturniolo Triplets)

summary: Your brothers have always been overprotective of you, and they do a good job of showing it while filming with Sam and Colby.

Big Sister PT.1, PT.2

—

“Okay, Y/n and I will share a bed. And you and Matt can share a bed,” Nick instructs pointing between Chris and Matt as you all entered your shared hotel room. He was always so bossy towards the rest of you, feeling no shame in directing every situation.

“Umm no, how about you three share a bed and I sleep all by myself,” you say. You’re only half-joking, this is your the first time away from your husband in a while and the last thing you wanted to do was share a bed with one of your brothers. But, seeing as there’s only two beds, you’re going to have to share with one of them whether you wanted to or not.

“Ew don’t be sassy,” Nick replies, dumping his bags on one of the beds. You roll your eyes, dumping your stuff onto the same bed.

“No, since you don’t wanna share with me get your dirty things off my bed,” Nick says, grabbing your things and throwing them onto the other bed dramatically. Chris and Matt are watching in amusement, you and Nick always managed to get into an argument no matter the situation.

“Me and Matt are sharing, you guys can sleep on the floor,” Chris comments, plopping down on the mattress and kicking his shoes off. The flight from L.A to Texas was exhausting, mostly because he had Nick yapping in his ear about the week’s itinerary. Then Matt wouldn’t stop getting up to use the restroom, the anxiety of flying hitting him like a ton of bricks.

Matt joins him on the bed, kicking his shoes off and propping his feet on your things. “Matt! Get your stinky boy feet off my stuff!” you exclaim, slapping his feet dramatically. He erupts in a fit of laughter, wiggling his toes inside his socks to taunt you. Chris laughs too, joining Matt and rubbing his feet on your bags.

“You two are disgusting,” Nick comments with a small chuckle, grabbing a few things as he heads into the restroom. You pinch Chris’s pinky toe, causing him to yelp in pain and move his feet immediately. You send a warning look towards Matt, ready to pinch him too if he doesn’t stop.

“What? My feet are clean!” Matt protests.

—

The long awaited day has finally arrived, your brothers were collabing with Sam and Colby. At first you were content with watching from the sidelines, only accompanying them because they invited you. But, they were successfully able to persuade you into being a main character for the video. Ever since your appearance on the Cut The Camera podcast, the fans have fallen in love with you. Every time the triplets mention you in a video, their comments are flooded with requests for them to bring you back.

You’ve been a fan of Sam and Colby for as long as you can remember, following them since their days on vine. Also, because you’re close in age with them, you can easily relate to their content. Not to mention that you had the biggest crush on Colby when you first became a fan. Your brothers knew how big of a fan you were, so of course they had to invite you along.

When Sam and Colby mentioned that the filming would be done in the Haunted Driscoll Hotel in Austin, your brothers jumped at the opportunity to invite you, it was the perfect opportunity for you to finally meet two of your favorite content creators. Plus Austin was extremely close to your small town, so the drive wasn’t too long, and you were more than happy to spend some quality time with your three brothers.

The four of you are currently meeting Sam and Colby at a barbecue restaurant near the Driscoll Hotel. First impressions are important, so you’ve dressed your best and even done your makeup. It’s not that you want to impress them, it’s just that you’ve been a fan for so long that you want them to remember you at your best. Your brothers can sense how excited you are, rolling their eyes at your fangirl-like behavior.

You pull up to the restaurant parking lot, an excited expression written all over your face. Matt, who’s sitting in the seat behind the passenger seat, is the first to notice this, “Calm down, buddy.” You couldn’t help it though, you felt like a middle schooler finally getting to meet her favorite celebrity.

“I am calm,” you reply coyly, sending him an annoyed look through the rear view mirror. Chris who’s sitting in the passenger seat speaks as he lowers the radio, “You’re literally squealing like a little girl.”

You scrunch your nose, you don’t like that word it made it sound like you were an animal, “ew don’t say that. It’s weird.”

“Don’t say what?” Nick asks, finally tuning into the conversation.

“Squeal. Chris said I’m ‘squealing,’ “ you do air quotes around the word, each time you say it it sounds more and more cursed. “Cause you literally are. Don’t forget you’re a MARRIED woman,” Matt chimes in, becoming annoyed with your behavior. In reality you weren’t even being weird, you were just excited, your brothers were just making it weird.

You roll your eyes at them, they’re overreacting. Your left hand comes up from your lap, wiggling your ring finger so they could see the diamond ring, “pretty hard to forget.”

Matt’s about to reply, but Nick notices Sam and Colby approaching your vehicle. They’re squinting their eyes, trying to see through the dark tinted windows. “Shush! They’re coming!” Nick exclaims, making a quick hand signal in front of Matt’s face to shut him up. Matt slaps his hand away, “Nick get your hand out of my fucking face.”

Another argument is about to begin, but Nick opens his car door before anything else can be said. The three of you follow suit, joining Nick as he walks towards Sam and Colby. With each step you felt the nerves bubbling up in your stomach, they were really right there! It felt so surreal, it felt like an actual dream.

As the pair walked closer they greeted you all, unafraid and without any hint of awkwardness in their tone. This made it easier to meet them and you couldn’t help but let your hug linger a little too long. Your brothers watched intently, eyes closing in on Colby’s hand’s that wandered too far south for their liking, but they didn’t say anything.

When you all finished eating, the conversation between the group came naturally. Most of the questions were directed towards your brothers, seeing as they were the famous ones, but Colby managed to create a linguistic flow between just the two of you. It was easy to talk to him; you two were close in age and had so much in common because of it.

“So you live in Texas?” Colby asks, his finger pinching his straw so he can stir his drink around. He has a big, cheeky smile on his face as he locks eyes with you, mindlessly flirting with you.

You didn’t even notice he was flirting, you were just so excited to be meeting him. Plus, you weren’t flirting, you were just fangirling. “Yeah, I moved down here not too long ago. I still travel a lot back to Boston and sometimes I’ll go visit them in L.A,” you reply, motion towards your brothers who are deeply immersed in a conversation with Sam.

Colby hums in response, taking a sip of his drink. His eyes are trained on you as he replies, “Which do you like more? Texas, Massachusetts, or California?”

You send him a look of hurt, pretending to be offended by such a difficult question. “How could I ever choose?” you reply playfully, a small laugh following. Each place held a different significance for you and was special in its own way, but you’d definitely choose Massachusetts over anything. It was your home base, the place that you and all your brothers, including Justin, called home.

“C’mon just one,” he teases. His hands inch slowly towards yours that are resting on the table, but you’re too innocent to notice that he’s actively trying to make a move on you.

“Okay, fine. Massachusetts.”

Colby hums in response as his hand finally reaches yours, squeezing it tightly in his firm grip. You look down in shock, finally realizing what he was doing. Your diamond wedding ring was on full display, but even that didn’t stop him.

As soon as Colby’s skin comes in contact with yours, your brothers notice. Their focus goes from their conversation with Sam to the horrific scene on the table. Sam notices the shift in attention and follows their gaze, mentally facepalming at his friend’s boldness. Leave it to Colby to flirt with someone they barely met, someone who is directly related to their soon to be ‘business partners.’

Sam kicks Colby from under the table, trying to signal that he needs to stop whatever he’s doing, “So, should we start heading to the hotel?”

Colby let’s go of your hand reluctantly.

“Yeah we should go,” you say, pulling your hands off the table and into the pocket of your sweater. Your mind was racing, did THE Colby Brock have a crush on you? You look towards your brothers expectantly, hoping they’d chime in so you can leave this awkward situation.

“Okay. We’ll meet you there,” Colby comments, standing from his spot across you and patting Sam on the back, leading him out the door as they briefly wave you all goodbye. He steals one last look at you, a smirk on his face. You all wave back while watching as they walk to their car, waiting until they’re fully inside to talk about what just happened.

Nick is the first to speak, “What the FUCK was that?” His finger motions erratically where your and Colby’s hands were previously intertwined. A disgusted look is etched all over his face. You didn’t even know what just happened, so you don’t respond.

“Did he fucking hold your hand?” Chris asks, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was fighting to keep professional, for some reason it really bothered him that Colby was ballsy enough to pull a move like that on you in front of them.

“I think so. He was just being friendly,” you try to reason, twirling your wedding ring on your finger from under the table. “That was NOT just a friendly interaction, Y/n. He was literally eye fucking you,” Nick comments again, gathering all the trash on the table onto his tray. Your face goes red, had he really been flirting with you?

Matt’s face scrunches in disgust, “Nick don’t say shit like that. It’s fucking weird.”

“What! It’s true!” Nick replies, getting up and tossing his tray in the trash. “Nick just shut the fuck up, you’re being weird,” Chris interjects, sending Nick a warning look. Nick was placing an image in their head that they didn’t want to imagine.

“That’s not true, Nick. He was just trying to include me,” you say, getting up from your seat and throwing your own tray away.

When your brothers had first invited you to be a part of this collaboration you were anxious to enter a hotel surrounded by paranormal activity but excited to meet two of your favorite YouTubers, now you’re just nervous to be around Colby again.

“Yeah trying to include you in his bed,” Nick jokes in a dramatic tone, leading the way back to the car.

“Nick, actually shut the fuck up. I’m going to punch you,” Matt speaks this time. He’s so uncomfortable with this conversation, mainly because you’re his sister and he hates how Nick is talking about you, but also because he doesn’t know whether to take on the roll of the overprotective brother or to let it slide for the sake of the video.

All four of your brothers have been overprotective of you for as long as you can remember. It started with Justin, he’d protect you from bullies at school, stray dogs when you were walking home, and when you got older he began chasing away any boy that got too close. That’s one of the reasons why he completely shut you out when he found out about your relationship with Jack, he felt like he failed as an older brother to protect you and the worst part was that it was with his best friend.

Eventually, when Justin moved away, Matt and Chris assumed the role of protective brothers and would do the same. At first it was cute, just your two little brothers trying to protect you from small things like a scary movie, a stormy day, or a hot pan on the stove. But eventually, as they got older, it turned into them sending dirty looks at any man who looked at you for too long. They might’ve felt this way towards Jack, your husband, if they were aware of your relationship, but because you two kept it a secret for so long it bloomed without the protective watch of your brothers. Once you got married, they felt a sense of responsibility and loyalty towards Jack, wanting to protect you from anything and everyone, especially when Jack wasn’t around to do it. It felt like their duty was to announce to the world, ‘our sister is married and we will fight any guy who comes near her!’

Nick was more laid back about these things, he knew you were fully capable of defending yourself if needed and he honestly didn’t see the big deal in mindless flirting. It’s not like you were constantly flirting with random strangers, it’s just that he knew you were fully capable of taking care of yourself. Plus, as a gay man, he was better able to distinguish between a man who was flirting and a man who was just being polite. Also, growing up you would always give Nick the best boy advice, so he knew you had a good head on your shoulders. But, in this specific case, he was able to tell that Colby was definitely flirting and for some reason he felt a little weird about it too. Sure he was cracking jokes about it, but he still couldn’t help but feel the need to sling an arm around your shoulder and pull you away from any further conversations with Colby.

The drive to the hotel was awkward and quiet, the only sound being Chris’s music over the car stereo. Matt insisted on driving, mumbling something about needing a distraction, earning you a seat in the back. They all knew that as soon as you arrived to the hotel, Colby wouldn’t cease his incessant flirting and they’d be forced to be on guard. This was meant to be a fun, safe hangout, but instead they’re on edge at the thought of a stranger putting the moves on their sister.

Finally you arrive to the hotel, Matt grumbles an almost inaudible “we’re here” before turning the car off and hopping out. You all get off, but as an older sister you can’t let them go in there in a bad mood, it would ruin the fun and definitely wouldn’t look good on camera, “wait guys, come here.” They were walking up to the hotel already, but stop in their tracks to join you in a quick group huddle.

“Let’s get rid of all this nasty, bad energy,” you instruct, pretending to dust the bad energy off and throw it away.

You always used to do this with them growing up, especially on days when you had to drive them to school and they would let their sour moods ruin their morning. Nick and Chris look at you with goofy smiles, reminiscing on childhood memories of you cheering them up before school.

“That’s so embarrassing, I’m not doing that,” Nick laughs, watching as you begin doing a small dance to get rid of even more bad energy. Chris, who’s unashamed to partake in anything, immediately copies you. He’s doing a random, silly dance that puts a smile on his face right away, washing away any previous lingering ill feelings towards Colby. “Chris you’re actually insane,” Nick laughs again, watching as Chris twirls his arms and kicks his feet.

“It’s working though, all my bad energy is gone,” Chris comments with a laugh, using his arms to figuratively push the bad energy off of him. Nick decides to join, stomping his feet loudly on the floor before hooting, “Oh yeah! Woohoo!”

At this point you, Nick and Chris are dancing around Matt like crazy people and he’s trying his hardest not to laugh. He holds a tight lipped smile, his head tilted upward and away from you all. “Come on Matt, let those bad energies go,” you tease, poking his sides. He’s pretty unrelenting, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of any wandering eyes. Chris and Nick join you in encouraging Matt and after a while he finally gives in, doing his signature double dutch move, a stank face forming on his face.

“Yeah Matt! Get in to it!” Chris exclaims, hyping his brother up.

The vibes are completely different now, going from dark and moody to light and playful. “Okay guys, let’s forget about whatever happened at the restaurant and just try to have fun,” you say, smiling at your three brothers. The last thing you wanted was to ruin their chance at an awesome collaboration.

They hum in unison, the four of you walking up to the hotel, mentally preparing for the night ahead.

—

The hotel was eery, if you would’ve come alone you might’ve been more scared, but your brothers are here which makes it less scary. The tour guide walks you through the most haunted areas of the hotel, explaining its backstory in great detail as you all joked around. Throughout the tour Colby kept sneaking subtle glances at you, brushing past you, leading you into rooms with a hand on the small of your back, and directing many of his questions your way. Of course your brothers noticed, but the cameras were rolling so there wasn’t much they could do.

The room you all are currently exploring is lined from wall to wall with mirrors, Sam and Colby explain how each pair of mirrors is rumored to create a vortex to an alternate dimension. The guide explains that the mirrors were a gift from a man who used to live in the hotel for his beautiful wife Carlotta. Colby is quick to comment, “If she looks anything like Y/n, she must’ve been gorgeous.” Sam, who’s holding the camera, pans it towards you to catch your reaction. All you can manage to do is smile awkwardly and mutter a small, “thanks.”

Matt, who still held some resentment from earlier, instinctively slings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you into him. Chris stands closer to you too, trying to remind Colby that even if he did find you beautiful, you were still their sister.

After a while, the tour guide leaves and lets you guys examine the mirrors in further detail. They’re so beautiful and intricate, if they weren’t so expensive you might ask for one in your own home. Matt still holds you close, the four of you walking in a group around the room.

“I love these mirrors,” you whisper to your brothers, brushing your fingers on the delicate, ornate designs of the frames.

“I bet Jack would’ve loved them too,” Nick comments slyly, raising his voice a little to ensure that Colby hears him. Sam pans the camera to him, “Who’s Jack? Is that like another one of your brothers?”

You’re so embarrassed you want to shrink into the floor, disappear into thin air, maybe even fall through the floor and into the core of the Earth. “Yeah, our brother in law,” Matt replies, pulling you in even closer to his side.

“Oh cool, so like another sister’s husband? Or… Nick, are you married?” Colby asks, completely obviously. He looks between you and your brothers, trying to decipher who Jack was to you all. Sam, who understood from the get go what Matt was getting at, wants to facepalm at his friend’s stupidity.

“What? No. Y/n’s husband,” Nick replies, pointing at you.

“Oh… Ohhhhh,” Colby’s face flushed a bright shade of red when he realizes that you’re married. You send him an apologetic smile, both for not telling him earlier and because your brothers were being so embarrassing.

For the rest of the night Colby keeps his distance and even apologizes to you off camera. He makes a comment along the lines of, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. That doesn’t make you any less beautiful though.” You accept his apology, thank him and Sam for inviting you, and gush slightly about how long you’ve been a fan. Colby makes sure to apologize to your brothers too, he didn’t mean any disrespect with his flirting, but he still feels the need to make amends. Chris and Nick are quick to forgive, but Matt takes a little more convincing.

Overall, you guys had a lot of fun despite Colby’s flirtatiousness and they’d actually love to collab with them again.

—

On the way back to the hotel you can’t help but comment on their behavior, “you know I didn’t need you guys to speak up for me, right?” Your eyes are trained on the road, hands firmly gripping the steering wheel.

“Mhm sure,” Chris replies from the passenger seat, scrolling on his phone and working towards tuning you out. They defended you and protected your honor, why were you getting I pset?

“Sometimes we can’t help it. We see something we don’t like and we just wanna body slam everyone to the ground,” Nick replies jokingly, looking at you through the rearview mirror. He’s hoping that you’ll laugh, or even crack a joke in return, but you just keep your eyes trained on the road. That’s when he realizes you’re actually bothered.

“Okay, but it was a bit much. Matt with his arm over my shoulder, Chris standing in front of me like some type of guard dog, and then you making snarky comments.”

Nick rolls his eyes, his comments weren’t that snarky. Chris finally looks up from his phone, “did you just call me a dog?” You side eye him, holding in your laughter.

“Should we just let a guy be creepy next time?” Matt asks, watching as you pick at the steering wheel.

“It wasn’t just some guy though, it was THE Colby Brock.”

“Doesn’t matter, he was still being creepy,” Matt’s response is quick. He was usually quiet and reserved, but when he knew he was right he didn’t back down. “Whatever,” you grumble, there’s no point in arguing with someone who thinks they’re right no matter what you say. Especially when that person is Matt.

The car goes quiet for a while, the hum of the engine being the only buffer between you and the awkward silence. Chris is still thinking long and hard though, had you really compared him to a dog? He couldn’t decide if he found it cool or if he was offended.

“Did you call me a dog?!” Chris exclaims, breaking the silence abruptly and earning a round of laughter from the rest of you. No matter what, you and your brothers always bounced back, you could never be mad at each other for too long.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: Thank you for the requests! This sat in my drafts for a while because I wasn’t sure what direction to take it in, but after watching the Triplet’s collab w/ Sam and Colby, this felt fitting.

Also this was so odd to write because MY name is Sam so I kept getting tripped out lolol

I’m writing other requests and stories at the moment, but when I finish those I’ll come back and write in the whole shopping trip vlog into this ✨BIG SISTER LORE✨

Hope you enjoy. Luv youuu!! Kk bye thanksss

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

[tropicalszns]

hello kitten 😈

PLEASEEE do gojo 🙏 can you do like really silly gojo annoying reader from the SECOND she wakes up to the end of the day, like him and utahimes dynamic basically, and we’re extremely annoyed by him and are always trying to get him to shut up ? you’re welcome to do whatever prompt but make sure to make it FLUFFY!!! and smut if you’d like, i wouldn’t mind 🌚 with muchhhh love xoxo

ROOMMATES !

⋆˚⟡˖° 𐙚 gojo satoru x black!fem!reader

about

your roommate gojo can’t stop annoying you

content contains

fluffff, silly gojo, friends to ??, they were roommates!, slightly suggestive.

word count

1,242

a/n

hey let’s get married frl I love u 🙏🏾😍��� THANK U FOR BEING MY FIRST REUQESY, forgive me for my tumblr being so glitchy and weird so like I can’t do what I wanna do!! but thank u again for requesting and I’m gonna try and make this the best I can possibly be 🫡 so sorry if it isn’t up ur standards 😭

“UGH!” You groaned. You were once again picking up the dirty socks Satoru left lying around the floor. In the living room, the kitchen, his bedroom, the bathroom, and your bedroom? You put two fingers up by your nose, squeezing hard to block out the stench of the sock you’d just picked up. “This is so gross..” you told yourself.

You walked the living room to see Satoru on his phone, his feet kicked up against the armrest of the couch you just cleaned not too long ago. “Stop leaving your dirty socks around the floor, stinky idiot.” You tossed the sock on his chest, seeing him immediately sit up and push the sock away. “Hey! Don’t do that! I just bought these clothes, not cool.” He frowned, glancing at his sock. “And for the record, I am not stinky, that’s all you.”

You raised your brow, “Me?! You leave your dirty laundry for me to clean!” You scoffed, “I’m not arguing with you, clean up after yourself and stop being lazy.” You begin to walk away. Gojo huffed, mocking you as you walked away, “Not my mom.” He murmured to himself. “I heard that!”

“Cmon! Cmon!” You bit your lip, your fingers fidgeting to your controller. You were in an intense game with your friends and so close to winning. “I got him!” You said excitedly, leaning back against the couch. Your eyes focused on the TV, you couldn’t have any distractions, no interrup- “Do you know where you put the leftovers?” Gojo announced. He slid his hand up his shirt and itched his side and yawned. “Not now, Gojo. Can you shut up?” Your brows pulled together, your frustration building up.

“I don’t know can I?” He snickered, hearing you say nothing after. His laughter died down as he pouted. “No fun, party pooper. Before I went to sleep I didn’t see anything in the fridge, did you make something?” He continued to speak, walking to the couch and glancing at the TV. If he was being honest, he didn’t really care that you were playing the game. He was hungry, and he wanted food now.

“Heeeeyyyy..” he nagged in your ear. You glared at him, swiftly slapping his face. “Ouch!” He held his nose, rubbing his face. “Seriously- not now! Go look for something to eat, stop bothering me!” You urged Gojo, putting your attention back on your game. “Fine.” Satoru sulked and walked over to the kitchen. He stood in front of the fridge, feeling too lazy to even open the fridge door.

He walked back into the living room and crossed his arms. “I don’t see anything, just your stupid drinks.” Satoru deeply sighed, crossing his arms. “Pleaaaseeee, make me something to eat! M’hungry! M’gonna die!” He whined. You felt anger boil your veins, before you could turn around to yell at him, you had gotten killed and finished in 2nd place. Your eyes widened, dropping your controller.

You were speechless. Your lips curled into a line, trying to take breathers but nothing worked. You turned your head to Satoru slowly, watching his sly grin. “I’m gonna fucking kill you, you’re so fucking annoying!” You began to yell at him but Satoru only smiled. “Sooo.. are you gonna get me some food?”

Safe to say that the day ended off with Satoru getting cold microwaved left overs and a bruised body.

“This food is cold..” he whined, picking his fork at the cold mash potatoes. “You asked for food, stop complaining.” You narrowed your eyes at him, scoffing. “Such a baby.” You muttered.

Gojo laid in his bed peacefully, wrapping himself in his blankets with the only light in the room is his phone. “Oh my gosh! Satoru!” You squealed, barging in his phone. Your eyes looked around the room, “Ugh, you’re so..” you rolled your eyes and opened the blinds. Gojo groaned, putting his blankets over his head. “Stooop!” he insisted. “No, anyway, I got a date! So you know what that means!!” You smiled.

Gojo gasped, lifting the covers. “You’re gonna come home crying about your date, then somehow make it my problem because you are always annoyed!?” Your face dropped, “I should kill you, I don’t know how we are roommates.” You blurted. “‘Cause you’re broke!” He smiled.

“I hate you!” You groaned, walking about and slamming the door behind you. “I love you too, I think!!” He yelled back.

A couple hours later, you walked into the apartment, tears streaming down your eyes. Your mascara running down your cheeks, ruining your make up. You continued to sob with your head aching and barely being able to walk in your heels, you dashed to your room and slammed the door behind you. Satoru lifted his head, raising a brow as he heard your sobs. “Eh?” He hummed. He took the pillow off his chest and rested his phone on the coffee table. Satoru got up and walked to your room, the door closed.

He placed his ear against the door. Your sobs being heard so loudly, he jolted. He knocked on the door, his heart slightly wrenching from your heavy and horrific sobs. “Uh, are you okay?” Something he probably wasn’t supposed to ask but he didn’t know how to comfort you. Usually you’d come back from your dates upset or irritated because they were a jerk, now you’re crying. He’s never seen you cry, nor did he have it on his check-list for today.

“Go away, asshole!” Your voice was muffled by your face deeply hidden in the pillows. “Uh huh, no. I don’t wanna.” He testified. Satoru twisted the knob and opened the door to see you sulking in your bed. Your dress still on and one heel on the side of the room and another on your foot. Your pillow dirty from your make up and dry tears and mascara implanted on your face.

“You look horrific.” He snorted. He quickly shut down by you throwing a pillow at him. “Go away! You’re so! Ugh!” You cried. “I was just joking, oh my god! Such a downer.” He rolled his eyes, but he secretly was chuckling to himself. He sat on the edge of your bed, watching you try and hide yourself from him. “You don’t have to be upset because of a date, you’ll be fine.” He shrugged. Satoru wasn’t in your shoes, nor does he ever want to be in it. He didn’t know how to comfort you because he knows eventually you’ll find another date that’s probably better than the last.

“He probably doesn’t even deserve you, and you should be confident to know that. I think.” He added. You didn’t speak, only keeping your face buried in the pillow. “I’m not helping, am I?” He asked, you nodded. “M’sorry.” He apologized. He looked around the room, seeing your posters and plushies, it was like he was somewhat interested in it. He moved a bit, pushing himself further in the bed.

“Do you want a hug?” He offered. You somewhat nodded your head which is enough for him. He awkwardly laid down next to you, pulling you in for a hug. “You’re kinda heavy, no offense.” Satoru blurted out. “Shut up.” You replied harshly. “You’re right, my bad.” He snickered, putting his chin on your shoulder. It felt like more of a cuddle instead of a hug, but you weren’t complaining.

“Wait, what is that poking my butt?—”

made by, tropicalszns, please do not copy, steal or repost my work without permission

[mellowsadistic]

The Magician's Game - Chapter 12

Abby didn’t enjoy her first morning as a woman with no bladder or bowel control. She let out an ear-piercing shriek when she woke up to find the big-breasted ‘Nanny’ from the day before bending over her with a finger slipped inside the leg-band of her soaking wet night-time diaper.

“Don’t be frightened, sweetie,” the woman cooed. “Nanny’s just checking your nappy. It looks like someone made lots of wee-wees during beddy-byes, didn’t she? Yes she did! Yes she did! Wittle Abby-wabby’s got a very soggy bum-bum!”

Abby felt herself burning with humiliation. “You can’t tawk to me wike dat!” she squealed, sitting up in bed and feeling her clammy wet diaper squishing unpleasantly beneath her. It was only then that she realised her thumb was in her mouth. She yanked it out at once.

The woman tittered. “You’re a big baby who can’t even wipe her own bottom, sweetie,” she said. “I can talk to you however I like.” Her motherly expression turned a little more sinister. “And if I don’t like your tone, I could leave you in that nasty nappy all day, no matter how wet and messy you make it. Is that what you want?”

Abby went cold. She couldn’t change herself. If she didn’t do what this bitch said then she’d have to stay in this disgusting thing for who knows how long – and she needed to keep her mind on the challenge today, not on the state of her pants. This would be the final one, the most important of all, her last and only chance to get back to normal and avoid the Magician’s sick, twisted punishments. And if she won, she’d get three wishes. Anything she wanted!

Her lower lip stuck itself out in a pout. “Sowwy Nanny,” she mumbled meekly.

Nanny smirked. “Good girl. Now let’s get that yucky-wucky diapee off your cute little tushy!”

Abby’s second nappy change as an adult was no less humiliating than her first. Nanny took her sweet time, making sure to coo at her in sickeningly sweet baby talk and tickle her tummy at random intervals. “P-U!” she cried theatrically, pinching her nose as she held up Abby’s sodden, yellowed diaper. “This icky thing is absolutely soaked! What a little pee-pee pants you are, Abby! I’d never have guessed you used to be a sexy, grown-up woman. You look just like a smelly little baby to me!”

Abby cringed and clenched her eyes shut, trying to block out the sounds of Nanny’s taunts as the older woman got to work wiping her clean with a pack of baby wipes.

“And here’s a nice, new nappy,” Nappy said happily, slipping one under Abby’s bottom, “for the next time you need to make a pee-pee, or drop a stinky load in your pants.”

Abby couldn’t prevent a pathetic, whimpering sob from leaving her lips as Nanny finished taping a fresh diaper around her waist. But at least it was over. Nanny helped her off the bed and got her dressed – tugging a pair of white, semi-translucent tights over her bulging diaper-butt and pulling a tight pink t-shirt over her bare chest. Her tits were constrained almost painfully in the tiny thing. A pair of frilly socks, black schoolgirl shoes, and a bonnet later, and Abby was fully dressed for the day.

Nanny escorted her, toddling, to the kitchen, where Becky and the Magician were already seated. In front of Becky, and in front of the large highchair that was awaiting Abby, were two enormous bowls full of baby food. Feeling sick, but knowing there was much worse at stake, Abby allowed herself to be sat in the highchair and fed the bland-tasting mush. She barely even fussed as Nanny pushed spoonful after spoonful against her lips, smearing her lower face. She was too busy worrying about what the final challenge would be.

Becky, too, was nervous. She spooned her meal into her mouth by herself. At least she didn’t need someone to feed her, she thought, looking up at the mess the busty woman was getting all over her fellow contestant’s pretty face. She didn’t want to end up like that. It was bad enough being incontinent. She turned red as she remembered how she’d woken up that morning, right in the middle of messing her nappy. How could she ever think of herself as an adult if she was doing that all the time?! She couldn’t stand the thought of spending even one more day in diapers! She didn’t want to be an overgrown, pants-filling baby anymore! She wouldn’t, she couldn’t, spend the rest of her life waddling around in smelly Pampers like some horrid brat in daycare. She forced herself to get through the bowl of baby food, even knowing it would bring about a messy nappy sooner rather than later – it would be the last, she told herself firmly.

Once Becky was finished eating, and Nanny was slipping the last few spoonfuls of mush into Abby’s mouth, the Magician got to his feet. His handsome smile was more terrifying than ever. “Alright girls,” he said, the awful bright light dancing once again in his eyes. “It’s time for the fourth and final challenge. Three silly young ladies have already headed off to live their new, and much altered lives, and now it’s time to find out which of you will be joining them in their fates, and which will earn herself three wishes. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that unless you win, the changes you have at the moment will be permanent.” He savoured the last word, and Abby and Becky both shivered. “The final challenge,” he continued, “is very simple. The two of you will have a competition to see who can act the most babyish over the next few hours. The one who I decide has been the silliest, most ridiculous overgrown baby will win my little game.”

Abby and Becky stared at him wide-eyed, their mouths open. They could only win their adulthood back by outcompeting the other at being a stupid baby?!

The Magician cocked his head at them. “What are you waiting for?” he asked, grinning.

The two young women looked at one another, and then Becky immediately got off her chair and dropped to her hands and knees, babbling in meaningless baby talk. “Goo goo gah bah bah!” she prattled, dribbling down her chin. She started crawling over to the Magician.

Feeling mortified, Abby imitated Becky and hastily extracted herself from her highchair and sank onto all fours too. “Gah gah buh buh buh!” she babbled, drooling down her own chin and crawling towards the Magician herself. She could see the evil satisfaction in his face as he watched them approach.

Becky reached him first. She plopped back on her diapered bottom and looked up at him with her best, desperate, puppy-dog eyes. She raised her hands into the air and made little clenching movements. “Up!” she squealed. “Uppies, Dada!”

The Magician laughed delightedly. He reached down and, with surprising strength, lifted the babbling baby-woman into his arms, settling her on his hip and holding her tightly against himself. Then he looked appraisingly down at Abby, who had just reached his feet.

Abby sat back on her nappy, and was about to mimic Becky again when she stopped. That wouldn’t work. She couldn’t just do whatever Becky was doing – she’d lose for sure that way. She’d have to do something else. A loud, childish temper tantrum seemed like a good idea, as if she was jealous of Becky getting held instead of her. The sick freak would undoubtedly like that. She hated the Magician. She hated him more than anyone else in the world for what he’d done to her, for what he was making her do. But he was dangerous, and she’d play along with his perverted fantasies if it meant winning his insane game. She was a little girl who wanted her Daddy’s undivided attention, she told herself, and that stupid little brat Becky was stealing him away from her!

She hardly had to pretend. The changes the Magician had made to her the day before had ruined her ability to control her emotions like an adult. Angry that Becky was already beating her, and terrified of the consequences if she lost, the tears came in no time at all. Her bottom lip wobbled beneath her thumb, and Abby started to wail. She scrunched up her beautiful face, tears pouring down her cheeks, sobbing hysterically and taking great heaving breaths as she pounded her free hand petulantly against the floor. “WAAAAAAAAAH!” she wailed. “I WANT MY DADA!”

Suddenly, she felt his powerful arm scooping her up, supporting her under her thickly padded bottom and holding her close against his chest, just as he was doing with Becky. “Shhhh,” the Magician hushed her gently, and Abby actually felt a pleasant tingle run down her spine at the unexpected gentleness of his voice. “Shhhh, it’s okay, baby. There, there… Daddy’s here, little one. Daddy’s got you.” The Magician carried them out of the kitchen and further into the house, into a brightly decorated playroom littered with baby toys.

He set them down on the soft, carpeted floor, and Abby immediately got to work. With some difficulty, she yanked off her tight t-shirt and started bouncing and shaking her boobies, giggling like she’d found her new favourite toys. She could feel the Magician’s eyes on her, and she blew a dribbly raspberry that made a line of drool to spill down onto her bare breasts.

Becky started to strip as well, but her adult clothes were harder to remove while she was sitting on the floor. An idea occurred to her, and she looked up, pouting at the Magician. “Wanna be nakie giwl!” she cried.

Chuckling, the Magician knelt down and started taking off Becky’s jeans and tank top, until she too was dressed in nothing but her nappy, her perky tits wobbling stupidly on her chest as she crawled around the room playing with the infantile toys.

They played for some time, working as hard as they could to keep the looks of childish idiocy on their faces while they bashed blocks together, shook rattles, and snuggled with teddy bears. Abby didn’t even have to fake it – after only a few shakes of a rattle she was staring at it avidly, cooing and gurgling, utterly entranced. It sounded so pretty and tinkly! Pretty, tinkly sound… She might have sat there all day playing with her rattle, had she not gotten the sudden, overpowering urge to shove it in her mouth. She came to her senses the moment before it happened, blushing scarlet at the thought of how enamoured she’d been by this stupid baby toy (she had to get back to normal), but there was nothing she could do to stop her body cramming the rattle between her lips and sucking on it enthusiastically. Her eyes rolled back into her head with pleasure.

Right at that moment, Abby’s bladder released without warning, and she felt her diaper getting soggier and soggier beneath her bottom as she pissed into it helplessly. It felt revolting, but she made sure to keep a blank, babyish look on her face as the front of her nappy discoloured. The Magician was surely watching for any sign of un-babyish behaviour, and babies didn’t care if they went pee-pee. She popped the rattle out of her mouth and let out another stream of ridiculous baby babble. But then, as she started crawling over to a large, fluffy teddy bear, something else happened. Something more than pee. For the second time in her adult life, Abby’s bowel’s rumbled into action beyond her control. Before she could really register what was about to happen, it was already happening. Her mouth opened in a perfect ‘o’ shape as an enormous yucky mess filled her diaper, making her padded pants sag halfway down her thighs with the weight of her load.

Meanwhile, a few feet away, exactly the same thing was happening to Becky. She was more used to the sensation of her pants filling with poop without warning, but it didn’t make it any less disgusting. Still, as poo-poo filled her nappy, she was able to keep her face relatively blank and dopey, as though she’d barely even realised what had happened. A grown woman who couldn’t even tell when she messed herself – the Magician would love that, she was sure.

Although she was trying as hard as she could, unlike Becky, Abby wasn’t able to keep the look of revulsion off her face. She knew the Magician must have seen. Babies didn’t think sitting in dirty diapers was disgusting. They didn’t care. She had to do something to make up for her mistake, and quickly. She had no idea when the challenge might end! Putting on her best bratty, mischievous face, Abby grinned up at the Magician. She hated him with all her heart. She knew she would never be able to look at herself the same way in the mirror after what she was about to do, but if it meant avoiding a terrible, terrible fate, it would be worth it. She sat back firmly on her full nappy, feeling the horrible mess in her pants squish against her bottom. It took all her self-control not to gag. Then, with a moronic giggle, she started bouncing up and down on her bum, squealing loudly and clapping her hands.

Becky watched, but didn’t move. She could see the Magician looking at her, waiting to see whether she’d copy Abby. But she couldn’t… she couldn’t do that. She just couldn’t stand it! The mess beneath her bottom was so disgusting! She couldn’t bounce up and down on it like some mucky baby! Those were the worst kind of diapers she had to change at daycare, the ones where the awful little urchins decided to make the mess in their pants even messier, and make the job of cleaning them up an absolute nightmare for her. The other daycare workers, the stupid women who’d chosen to look after smelly, snot-nosed brats as their whole career, actually thought it was cute when the babies “made bouncies”. But Becky found it nauseating, and the idea of doing it herself was out of the question.

“All right, little ones,” the Magician said suddenly. “I’ve made my decision.”

They both stopped what they were doing and looked up at him fearfully. The Magician took each of them by the hand and pulled them to their feet. The two women stood there, tits out, legs pushed awkwardly apart by their full, sagging nappies, waiting for his judgement. The evil man looked at Abby, who felt her stomach lurch horribly, and then he turned his gaze to Becky. Abby was trembling. Was he going to tell Becky that she’d lost, or that she’d won?

“Sorry Becky,” the Magician said, “but I’ve decided little Abby was the most babyish, and that means, unfortunately, that you’re the loser.”

Abby took a deep breath. Wonderful relief was flooding through her body.

Becky, however, was shaking. “No…” she whispered, so quietly that Abby barely heard her.

“I don’t know what you were planning to do with your life, Becky,” said the Magician pleasantly, advancing on the quivering girl. “Maybe you were planning to go to law school, or train as a doctor, or maybe you just wanted to live an average life, but I’m afraid whatever it was, it won’t be happening now. You’ll be spending the rest of your days as a diaper-dependent adult toddler, a grown woman who stomps about with a smelly, loaded nappy swinging about between her legs. You’ll be dependent on real adults to check and change you, of course… and I know just the place to send you.” He waved his hand lazily, and a canary yellow frock with a smiling cartoon bee on the front appeared on Becky’s body.

Slowly, stiffly, Becky looked down at her new clothes, and recognised the uniform of the Buzzy Bees baby class at the daycare where she worked. Her poopy diaper was peeking out of the bottom.

Becky lost her mind. She started screaming at the top of her lungs, clutching her head in her hands, her eyes wide and horrified.

Abby stared at the woman in horror, but the Magician just chuckled, as if the sight of the twenty-year-old woman’s mental breakdown was merely amusing to him. Becky looked utterly mad. She was screaming inarticulately, and staring straight ahead of her, as though she could see something they couldn’t – as if she was looking at her own future laid out in front of her, a life of stinky nappies and baby food and naptimes, a life stuck in nursery school forever, trapped in the one place she’d wanted desperately to get away from. In a way, she was getting what she wanted – she’d never have to change another dirty diaper again. She’d be too busy filling them. Becky screamed and screamed and screamed.

“That’s enough of your little tantrum, missy,” said the Magician, still sounding amused. “Time for you to go and join your new peers.” He snapped his fingers, and Becky vanished.

[gassywill]

Camping Fart Slave Training - Part 3 (Final Part)

I woke up mummified inside a sleeping bag and herd chatter outside. One voice was definitely Joeseph and the other ones I don’t know who I moved around slightly and Joeseph‘s face peered into the tent, looking at me “Hello again fart slave, I’ve brought some friends” two other guys, in full tracksuits looks back at me one smacked his arse as he looked into my eyes.

They all got into the small tent. Once inside Joeseph started rubbing my dick once again “it’s time for your last challenge fart slut” when I tried to reply all it came out was moans. I slowly realised that the gas mask I was wearing was different to the one before and my mouth had also been gagged with a pair of horrible tasting, dirty socks.

As I looked down as much as I could, I could see three tubes coming from the bottom of the gas mask. This couldn’t be good each of the lads grabbed of the tubes and attached it to their arsehole. I began to smell the horrible smell of three arses mixed together, creating a horrible stink, unlike anything I have ever smelt before.

Joseph started to rub the sleep bag, which felt comforting, which is something I needed, knowing what was gonna happen to me. “Ok, so you’re gonna take all of our farts until you agree to sign this contract”. what contract was Joeseph on about? I would never agree to this! I let out a moan shaking my head. Joeseph lent over and looked into my eyes. He started reading the contract.

“Part one, I promise to sniff my masters farts, whenever I am required, and no matter where I am.

Part two if my master has friends round who need to fart, I can be used as a filter for that rancid gas.

Part three, you are not allowed to cum unless you are sniffing farts.

Part four, you promised to move into Joeseph‘s flat and become his bitch for the rest of your life.”

I shook and disagreement all parts of this contract. I didn’t want to accept it. I didn’t want to be a fart slave for the rest of my life. I just wanted to be released.

Joeseph moved his hand down to my cock and started rubbing it. He lent back “ok boys here we go”. The first fart ripped down the gas mask tube into my face. All I could do is sniff it I start to moan as the next fart rumbled down the hose, followed by more and more and more gas.

Whilst this was happening, Joeseph was rubbing my cock forcing me to be horny to this extensive torture.

One of the other lads lent over and looked into my eyes. He put his hand on the side of my face and asked me to guess what he had for dinner before releasing a massive stinky fart into the tube. I maoned and shaked as he laughed.

This torture of non-stop farts went on for 10 minutes straight without any break. One of them was always farting. Joeseph lent over me again and said it could be all over if I just signed the contract in my head it was beginning to think like the only option I had for survival.

Soon the three guys stopped, Joseph said to them “I think we need the next stage” “Yes sir” replied one of the lads.

My gas mask and gag was removed, I could finally breathe somewhat fresh air. Joeseph and the other two guys, then got out a massive sleeping bag. It looked like a triple one. It could fit multiple guys and at once I was told to get into the bottom of it, I refused. Joeseph climbed on me cuffing my hands and my feet and dragged me in.

I was pushed down to the bottom and then the three lads got in the top. Their feet went on my face, which stunk about as bad as their farts. Joeseph reached down to me and attached a collar to my neck. I was now completely enclosed in this Dutch oven.

I felt the collar pulling and I was dragged up to one of the lads ass. He put his hand on the back of my head, and pushed my face into his rancid, bare arse, and proceeded to start farting on my face no matter how much I tried to pull away, I couldn’t. When I did manage to get a little bit away from his arse, the smell didn’t get any better as the smell was just filling the whole of the sleeping bag.

I was pulled to the next guy who proceeded a fart on my face multiple times and kept on telling me to lick their arse. Eventually, I did as I was told and stick my tongue in. Their arsehole was disgusting. You could taste their farts they had created.

Finally, Joeseph pulled me over to his arse. I could always recognise his gas after all. I’ve taken it for a good few days at this point. Joeseph pulled me with the collar, forced his dick into my mouth and forced me to deep throat him as he released some eggy gas around me. I was now sniffing his rancid farts and sucking his giant dick.

This went on for a good 10 minutes before he came into my mouth. He allowed me to take his dick out of my mouth and pushed me into his arse where he released another few bubbly fart right in my face I felt so submissive. The other guy pulled me over to theirs. Most sat in between them. Both of them sat on my face at once. I had one ass on either sides of my face.

Both of them start releasing eggy farts right onto my nose. I had no escape. I started shaking. I still have to cum from Joeseph‘s cock dripping out of my mouth as I was forced to endure more gas the inside of the sleeping bag, stank of rancid fart and cum. I shouted out at the top of my voice “I’ll sign it, I’ll sign it”.

And right then too much of disgusting farts hit my face. I start shaking from the stench again, and then I felt the collar pull me back up to the surface.

Joeseph was sat in the tent with the pen in his hand, and the contract on the ground. He gave the pen to me and instructed me to sign it. I nervously signed the contract while making the odd glance to my new master above me. I was now a fart slave for Joeseph.

As soon as I signed the other two lads pulled the colour back into the sleeping bag. Where is one of them sat on my face, ripping farts, the other one put his cock in my mouth and forced me to take more of his cum, and then they switched the other one took over the farting duties, as I had to suck another cock and take more come.

My mouth was dripping. My face stank and my cock was harder than it ever been before. I was now fully a fart slave. I was Joeseph’s fast slave.

[2knightt]

「 you the cutest jailbird i ever did see!」

IN WHICH—you’re literally mickey milkovich!♡ ໋֢ 👒✧

🍵ヾFT. THE GREASERS࿐ྀུ ♡

⌗ 👒 notes !𖥔༌ ᰷ ﹅ this is platonic. and if you haven’t seen shameless just imagine a modern, stinky dallas. also MARRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS!!!

you met them while running from the cops. sure—it was completely your fault and you do deserve to be thrown into the cooler. but you just got out! can’t a person want just a few more minutes of peace?

as soon as you heard those sirens, you jumped off the guys you and your cousins were jumping and just started running. those two idiots already got caught, you just kept on running.

you heard that the curtis house doesn’t ever lock their door—stupid. you’d never do that, not when people like you run around this city!

the sirens got closer, and without thinking, you jumped their fence. as your feet touched the ground, you hoped to god that they weren’t home. or that dallas winston wasn’t there.

you rushed to the door, swinging in open before hiding beside their couch that sat in front of the window. peeking your head up, you watched as the cop car slowed down before speeding back off.

a grin grew on your face as you watched the cops go in the other direction.

“fuckin’ idiots.”

“wow, y/n getting chased by the cops. what is it, the 30th time this week?”

you’ve had unfortunate run-ins with dallas. but you thought his voice was more annoying now than when you and your cousins jumped him for trying to hit on your sister.

you’d recognize that disgusting new york accent from anywhere. you sighed, turning your head to face him as he stood above you, hands in his jean pockets.

dallas had a stupid grin on his face as who, you think is soda, comes rushing beside him. his eyes showed worry, but his grin made him look interested in you.

“shoot, what happened to you?”

“soda—this is y/n. what ain’t they done is a better question.”

you rolled your eyes, holding back from socking him in the jaw. you turned your head to face soda, standing up from your position. rubbing your neck, you hung your head low.

“tough shit, man. bunch of assholes—you know.”

suddenly, someone with cake smeared all over his fingers and who smelled like oil popped up out of nowhere. ‘steve’ was written on the chest of his ripped up work uniform.

“that can mean a lotta things. what kinda tough shit?”

‘jesus, the curtis group asks a lot of questions.’ you thought to yourself, a lip raised. dallas kicked the leg of the couch beside you, causing you to whip your head up after avoiding eye contact. sodapop smacked dallas’ shoulder, telling him off.

“answer ‘em, y/n.”

dallas demanded, saying your name is a singing tone.

“…me and my cousin’s has jumped a guy. it ain’t nothin’ bad like stabbing a kid with a blade.”

you mumbled, dusting yourself off, you heard snickers leave steve and soda’s throats. soda grinned, ear to ear as he ushered you to sit down at a table. as he did so—he kept on asking you a bunch of jumbled questions due to how fast he’s talking.

four boys sat there, staring at the situation that had just unfolded. they both looked younger than everyone else did, the two older ones standing out like sore thumbs. one was finishing his plate, the other one downing a bottle of beer.

soda sat you down, steve rushing behind the both of you. either of them sat beside you, smiles on their face.

“what’d the guy do?”

“did you beat ‘em black and blue?”

“what’d you use?”

with that, you found yourself hanging around the two of them more. sodapop and steve found your company fun. sure, you were like dallas, but different in so many ways.

you were so comforting to be around, yet you always had a scowl. they loved having you around, causing the gang to hang out with you too.

you honestly became a reoccurring person in the gang—to the point where people would ask where you were if you weren’t around them.

you’d just walk into the curtis house and make yourself comfortable. your house wasn’t exactly the definition of ‘ideal.’ the old man wasn’t the kindest to you, your sister—or anyone for that matter.

he’d frequently take his anger out on you and smack you ‘til you’re every colour under the sun after he heard you’d been foolin’ around with some chum around the block. it wasn’t even true—but your cries always fell to deaf ears when it came to that alcoholic.

it’s not like it was a secret either. every person on the east side could hear the arguing from your house—even the front door slam shut. that’s when the people would know you’d be huddled up on the curtis’ couch.

“y/n—breakfast.”

soda’d nudge you gently—talking in a hushed voice. the smell of bacon filled your nostrils, a sigh leaving your lips as it hit you that he was the one cooking. you aren’t exactly the biggest fan of his rather odd choices of how he makes his food.

but goddamnit you can fake it for him. if you can lie to the cops, you can lie to one of your greatest friends.

just like how you can lie to the investigators trying to find dallas winston.

“you know this kid?”

“never seen ‘em in my life. lay off now, assholes.”

you’d mumble, walking past them, making sure you hit their shoulders as hard as you could. you always got a kick out of hurting those pigs as you’d call ‘em.

which is what caused dallas winston goin’ MIA. you had seen dallas winston getting knocked down by the police after a long chase.

even though you can’t stand that new yorkian—you do love fighting. you tried to walk as quietly as you could up to them before making yourself known.

“hey, man!”

you shouted, causing their heads to turn. when they saw you—their eyes immediately flashed a look of hatred. they obviously knew who you were, and if they didn’t know, they’d know after you socked one in the jaw.

all attention on dallas turned to you—all of them going after you. until dallas also landed a clean hit on one. with the impact of the officer falling on the ground—your feet started moving on your own.

you cackled, hearing dallas laugh along with you, running beside you. the rush that washed over you two was indescribable—the adrenaline was great.

this isn’t the first time you’ve been on the run, and it’s not like you haven’t been caught. one time you got caught—your bail was low. but too high for you. you were offered one call and the first person that came to mind would surely rip off your head.

‘worth a shot,’ you thought to yourself, dialling the numbers with the phone to your ear, a cop hovering over you.

“hello?”

“darrel? it’s y/n.”

“goddammit, y/n. what the hell did you do this time?”

“nothin’! i-i just need you to come and bail me. it’s only 50 cents, darry.”

“you’re never gonna hear the end of it, you damned jail bird. i’ll be there soon.”

with that—you heard a click on the end of the line. you wanted to defend yourself, but hearing him call you a jail bird gave you more pride than you’ve felt in a long time.

of course, when he did bail you out, any feeling you had of pride evaporated. as soon as you entered the backseat, you could feel the rage from darry.

“what the hell did you do? it’s 11PM. ponyboy and soda’s in bed—and i was getting ready! 11PM, y/n!”

“holy fuck, darry! stop acting like i killed a guy! it was just a grab n’ run!”

“y/n—is it too hard to ask that you try to stay safe? just once, that’s all i ask!”

“oh my god, darry! you aren’t my fucking father!”

“guess what’s happening. you’re coming to my house and spending the nights there. the second i hear that you’re runnin’ from the cops i’m contesting against you in court!”

the rest of the ride was in silence, it being broken up by the occasional blinker. when he pulled onto the side of the road, parking his truck in front of the house, you sat there.

stubborn is what people thought of you—and you sure as hell were. darry got out, expecting you to follow. he stood in front of the gate, arms crossed as you stared off into space.

the door opened—darry quickly grabbing you. he carried you like a baby, against your very loud protests.

soda opened the door, snickering as he sees the situation you’re in. ponyboy was sitting on darrys chair, playing with the tab of a pepsi can. once he seen darry step in, you in arms, he shot up from where he sat.

“where were you? what happened?”

“yeah, jail bird. what happened?”

you heard the two younger brothers ask, one sounding more mocking than the other. darry placed you on the couch, swiftly throwing a blanket over you.

you’d been in this situation before, the memories flooding back to you as you felt yourself drift off into sleep.

expect you weren’t the one being carried. you had carried johnny from the lot, put him on your back. it was a few days after he’d been jumped real bad.

you were out of the loop when it came to who jumped who. you seen johnny asleep in the lot. dried blood on his jacket and face. bruises were everywhere on his body. you felt bad.

you always liked johnnycakes. he understood you in a way. as you carried him on your back—you could only thing of the similarities between you two.

you both had rough home lives, you both always found yourself trying to keep everything together. he used to be so tough but turned quiet—you had always been tough and never expected to change.

lost in your thoughts—you got to the curtis house faster than expected. you quietly walked up the stairs, opening the door, avoiding the creaky floorboards.

you placed johnny on the couch, taking a silent vow to beat whoever did this to him even worse.

and you always kept your word.

robert sheldon was the guy you and your cousins had tracked down, bats and other weapons in hand. if he can use those thick gold rings—you can use your bat. fair game, right?

you caught him, drunk on the streets, and stupidly alone. your cousins beat up ford slowed down beside him—making it a repeat of what he’d do to others.

he took notice—stumbling as he turned his head. your own small gang took notice to this, stopping the car before jumping out.

you guys had beaten him to the point where he looked just like johnny. you kept your word, and you wouldn’t let anyone ever touch johnny like that.

you always hated soc’s. you’d do anything to do annoy ‘em. even if it meant stealing their mustangs, you always liked them anyhow.

steve always talked about how he’d do anything to drive a tuff car like that. everytime he seen one, that’s all he talked about.

“imagine drivin’ a car like that. could you imagine how fast i could go?”

you’d learn how to hot wire at a young age, rarely ever did it though. but when you seen a wine coloured mustang left unattended—you knew you had an opportunity.

it wasn’t hard to get it going, and it wasn’t hard to drive it to the DX without getting caught. steve was working in the hood of an old car outside until he heard a honk.

a grin grew on his face as he seen you in the drivers sear of the car, a smug look on your face. steve practically skipped as he rushed towards the vehicle, tapping the hood as he took a closer look.

as he was nothing less than mesmerized—you hopped out of the car. steve looked up at you from his crouched position before you threw the keys at him, walking towards the passenger seat.

steve immediately put two and two together, jumping into the car without a second thought.

you swore you ain’t never seen steve so happy when he was speeding down the road in this mustang. he never asked where you got it—and you never told him.

you and ponyboy were alright. he didn’t like being around you for long periods of time. on the other hand—you absolutely loved it.

you could tease him until the sun went down for everything and anything.

“what the hell are you wearin’, pony?”

“a shirt?”

“sure as hell don’t look like one.”

you’d ruffle his greased up hair, going against his complains. you’d mock his books and movies, mimicking what they just said in a higher voice. ponyboy always disliked this. he didn’t hate it however. a small part of him knew that’s how you showed affection.

but he never knew you could be so gentle when you felt like it—that he really, really liked. one day, when school was out and everyone was doing their own thing, ponyboy sat at home.

he was reading a book with the tv as background noise. until you barged through the door, beelining for the fridge. you got a beer, closing the door. you took a sear in darry’s chair, watching TV.

ponyboy wondered if you noticed he was even home. when he seen you enter—he felt insecure. you were the definition of a greaser—he was…just some guy that so happened to have grease in his hair.

you realized he stopped reading, his eyes everywhere but his book. sighing, you got up and sat beside him on the couch. you took one more swig of the beer before you told him to read out loud.

“read to me.”

“wh-huh?”

“the TV’s borin’. read.”

with that, he did. the longer ponyboy read, the more relaxed he became. of course—you looked like you wanted to rip your own head off—but ponyboy did like the fact you immersed yourself into the story.

“she fucking what?”

“yeah! crazy, right?”

“crazy’s an understatement, man.”

‘crazy’ is what people would call you and two-bit. people would’ve never willingly put the two of you in a room, but you two got along swimmingly.

he was loud, sometimes clingy, and always joking around. you really needed someone like him in your life. a breath of fresh air—until the two of you would compete.

“let’s see who can steal the most stuff without gettin’ caught.”

was a sentence often said between the two of you. a little fun never hurt nobody, right? two-bit seemed like the expert at stealing, and you just liked to break the law.

the longest it went on was for a week. you tot caught first and you have yet to live it down.

“so god fuckin’ help me—i will gauge your eyeballs out with this fucking fork!”

“yeah but, i’ll die knowin’ that i was able to steal without gettin’ BANNED!”

two-bit later had a bruise on his ribs.

you’ve never been one to stay in a group of people. but staying with these people—it was different in so many ways.

you knew they wanted you here, they knew you loved them and that you knew that they loved you too. and unfamiliar feeling sure—but a welcomed feeling.

you argued, fought, and even fist fought each other. but goddamnit, you all moved past it. and that’s all you could ask for in this little life. even if your life is mostly you sitting in a prison.

[wakeup01]

Inevitable

It’s okay to admit it. You want to smell my stinky feet. Whether you wanted to before doesn’t matter. It’s just an inevitability. The second you got a glimpse of them was the second you fell in love. I saw the look in your eyes, I’ve seen it countless times before. The toes, the soles. The glistening sweat. Despite how ashamed it might make you feel, you can’t stop thinking about them. About how they might smell.

You want me to take my trainers off don’t you? I can tell. Go on and ask, boy. No need to blush.

See, it’s not so hard. Hmm. My feet. They’re kinda nice huh? Something about them is…captivating. Everything else can just fade away.

You can try to deny it, go ahead. But the fact is, in a matter of minutes you’re gonna be compelled to press that nose against my rank sole and take a large whiff. That’s right. As I said, it’s inevitable. At first you might even hate the smell, but it won’t take long to…adjust. You won’t be able to help yourself; deep down you know it’s your true purpose, boy. Worshipping my feet.

And the second you do, is the second you become MINE. An obedient little plaything. One sniff is all it will take. My intoxicating foot stench will fog your head and make you addicted. Destroying who you once were. Your brain shrivelling up from my intense musk. Turning to a sponge to soak up my sweat. God, that’s the best part; watching your face go from worried to curious, to horrified, disgusted and then settling on that dumb, blissed-out shameless grin.

Shaking your head? That’s cute. You don’t mind if I peel my socks off do you? I’ve been wearing them all week.

Mmm, that’s better. Don’t worry, it won’t be long now. You can probably already smell a hint of them from over there. Phew. They are really potent after all. It’s making your eyes sting. That tangy, salty odour. A shot of concentrated vinegar to your face. The room is already filled with it. What harm is being a little closer. There’s no escaping anyway, so just do what comes naturally. Why bother fighting it?

Ah. Are you…there you go, lean in. Closer. No idiot, it’s too late to back out. I own you now. Yeah. Closer! Smile for me. Perfect.

NOW. SNIFF!

Good fucking foot sniffer. Huff it. Let the cheesy smell consume your tiny pathetic mind. Surrender to it. Be conditioned to love the stench as your brain turns to mush. Go ahead and thank me. Thank master. Haha. Reach into your pocket, hand over your credit card. Yep. That’s it. So docile and subservient. Gonna drain your account dry, that makes your tiny dick twitch with excitement. But I expect more. Pet. Open your mouth. My feet need a tongue bath, and afterwards your face will be my sweaty rag. Open wide. Time to serve your alpha, dumbass.

SUCK. MY. FUCKING. TOES.

________________

(Hope you enjoyed. My DM’s and asks are open if you want to message me, or just praise my feet, as you should.)