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#too close to carrot
themanwhowouldbefruit · 5 months
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still thawing this bun even though my chicken veggie burger only has a 5% chance of coming out of the oven bun-able
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bbibbirose · 4 months
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ok what
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raininyourblackeyes · 9 months
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Going to Budapest in 24h, my brother is so scared of flying. He is also so uninterested in anything not relating to the f1 race.
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six-of-ravens · 9 months
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This morning's surprise: there were CARROTS growing with my chamomile??? and cornflowers?????
and they actually grew really well?????
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itsmyroadroller · 9 months
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dip goldfish crackers in hummus btw. tips from 3 year old me
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dbphantom · 1 year
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It makes me so happy tfs still supports purpleeyeswtf despite him not posting anything for a while both of them were literally my childhood and none piece is my favorite abridged series
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mallahanmoxie · 1 year
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i was thinking of caramelized onions and how many of them it takes to make a decent batch and how i've sort of equated vegetables with being cheap even though they're not all that much because the market i shopped at when i lived alone was quite cost efficient in terms of perishables but then i was well it doesn't really matter if they're not that cheap because, really, what's the alternative? not putting any vegetables in my basket?
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timmisny · 2 years
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i miss my mom
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badolmen · 2 years
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Help girl I’m talking myself out of a hot dinner in favor of waiting until early Monday morning to get a hot breakfast and scope out the dining hall layout with a lesser chance of dealing with people.
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wellnesscard · 2 years
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i forgot (like i do everytime) that i tend to get superrr depressed for no reason after i drink heavily for a few days in a row. holding back tears trying 2 read this textbook a lil bit before my exam (didmt get to study over weekend bc i worked closing everyday + slept in til an hour before i had to leave for work bc im burnt out) just feeling so miserable. but its fine im not actually sad im just having withdrawals from alcohol. so now that i remembered that i can go back to being hot and having great hair. plus i think im finally ready to quit drinking for good. everytime i have one or two drinks 'just for fun' i end up continuing (too high functioning of an alcoholic so i can just go forever its terrible) for a week or a month before taking even one-two days off. i puked up so much black shit at work the other day and my shits were black too im pretty sure i caused some internal bleeding. my stomachs fucked. im over it. im sick of reasoning out little excuses to drink like it sucks i dont hate my life anymore i have a lot of good stuff going now i dont need to black it out i want to enjoy this time on earth and be a better self not insane and emotional and destructive, with a body constantly in pain
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suguann · 1 month
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He has a feeling that the new girl running the front desk at the gym is going to be a problem—a distraction disguised in a gym uniform polo and khaki pants.
It starts with you smiling too brightly as he walks in one morning, all teeth and that little twinkle in your eye that feels like trouble when you scan his membership card.
“Good morning, Mr. Riley.” 
“It’s just Simon,” he tells you as he takes his card off the counter. 
The following day, it’s the same, except Johnny is there to make it worse.
He nudges Simon with his elbow. “She’s kinda pretty, huh?”
“Say it any louder, and she’ll hear you, mate,” he grumbles.
Simon’s not blind; of course, he knows you’re pretty, but he doesn’t have time to commit to anything outside of work—even if you smile at him like you’re happy to see him and how he’ll think about it later: on missions, at his desk, during morning runs. His head is nothing short of woven webs with thoughts of you stuck in the middle.
Honestly, it’s that you—
(You try to make small talk with him every morning, and Simon is starting to think it’s just for him because on the days he doesn’t come alone, you merely scan his card and go back to reading the open paperback book on the desk.)
It’s weird because it’s almost like you—
(He bumps into you at the supermarket and makes a dumb joke about carrots that makes you laugh. It makes him a little tongue-tied and awkward afterward because he realizes he hasn’t talked to a woman outside of only wanting a quick fuck in a really long time, but more importantly, he wants to hear it again. 
Instead, he tosses potatoes in his cart and walks away.)
He tells himself it means nothing, or not how Simon wants it to.
You’re just…he’s not even sure; acquaintances? Maybe more than that, but less than friends. Somewhere in that odd in-between phase where he only knows bits and pieces but not the whole picture.
Sometimes, he wishes—
(Simon doesn’t know what he’s doing the first time he invites you to meet the guys from work on a night out. He’s dated around a few times and had his fair share of hook-ups, but this isn’t like that. His palms are sweaty, more than usual, and no amount of wiping them on the thighs of his jeans keeps them dry.
Then you walk into the bar in a dress that’s probably too light for early spring in London—even though he stares appreciatively at the long expanse of your legs as you walk up to the table—and he wishes he wasn’t introducing you as his friend.)
But you—
(A new development happens after you slip him your phone number on one of the gym’s business cards—it’s weird that we don’t have each other’s numbers, so message me sometime or whatever—and he messages you ‘hey’ right before he leaves for a mission a few days later. 
It slowly shifts and changes over time.
You start sending him texts in the morning. Never an actual good morning text, but of the dogs you take on walks, the sunrise, the new flower box in your window. Somehow, it’s better.)
You really are—
(His house feels too hot, and he’s distracted from the movie by how close you are, how your leg drapes over his under the blanket, fingers fisting into his sweater at his stomach that clenches. An ache that grows, throbbing, spreading from his abdomen to his groin.
It feels monumental—something more than the gentle touch to the elbow to squeeze by each other in his entryway earlier or giving you his jacket that night at the bar—a tilt of the axis that makes the messy pieces fall neatly into place. 
He must be staring because you glance up at him, smiling, and the sound from the TV turns into white noise in the background.
“Can I…would you—fucking hell,” Simon runs a hand through his hair. “Can I kiss you?”
When your lips press against his, and his hands are pulling you onto his lap, where you settle hotly against his dick tenting in his jeans, he wonders why neither of you has done this before. Just kissing—him licking the seam of your mouth, and you panting his name.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” you mumble, lips brushing his.
“Me too,” and he fists his hand into the hair at your nape and pulls you back to his mouth.)
“I knew you’d be trouble,” he tells you one day, glaring at the bloke further down the bar who tried making a swipe at your ass before Simon showed up, towering over his shoulder with your fruity cocktail in hand.
“Oh, yeah?” you giggle, leaning into his side.
“Yeah,” the corners of his mouth quirk, though he hides it when he presses a kiss against your temple. “A real pain in my ass, love.”
“But yours.”
This time, he does smile. “Yes, but mine.”
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Masterlist
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headspace-hotel · 4 months
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you know how people say "cats domesticated themselves?" I find this statement irksome because as i've been studying plants and particularly weeds, a theory has slowly been forming in my head about domestication that makes a lot more sense than other theories.
Basically, I think everything domesticated itself. Or rather, domestication involves adaptation and active participation on both sides.
Evidence for this is found in studying weed and crop plants—truth be told, most weeds are or were also crops.
Amaranthus, the genus that gives us the most costly USA agricultural weeds? All edible and healthy, and several members of the genus are domesticated. They were staple crops for Mesoamerican empires.
Kudzu, the vine so aggressive in the USA it turns trees into looming kudzu monoliths? It's been bred and cultivated by humans since the Neolithic in its native range, in China it was one of the main sources of fiber for cloth for MILLENNIA to the point that the Zhou dynasty had a whole government office of kudzu affairs. Kudzu roots are edible and they can be as tall as a human and weighing over 200 pounds, you can make them into flour, make noodles out of the flour, you can process them down into a starch and use it just like potato or tapioca starch and make all sorts of sauces and confections and stuff out of it. In Japan it was used for clothes too, if you see pictures of clothes worn by a samurai that's probably kudzu! It has loads of unresearched phytochemicals that probably have medicinal use, it's good for making paper, a researcher even made a biodegradable alternative to plastic out of it
Yellow Nutsedge is a food crop, Purslane is a food crop, at least some species of morning-glories are food crops, crabgrass is a food crop, Nettles are food AND fiber, Milkweed is food and fiber too, Broadleaf Plantain is food and medicinal, Dandelion is food and medicinal AND great companion plant (they used to sell them in seed catalogues around the 1890's or so!) and have y'all ever seen queen-anne's-lace along the side of the road? THATS CARROTS. That's the wild ancestor of carrots! (ofc don't eat anything you aren't 1000% sure you can identify)
Simply put. A weed is a plant that has co-evolved with humans. And most of them are Like That because they co-evolved with us. And honestly I reckon that many plants were domesticated in the first place because they liked to grow in disturbed environments near human settlements and agricultural fields.
Now thinking about this in terms of animals...when our domestic species were first domesticated, there weren't fences, there wasn't "inside" or any controlled environment to bring animals into, and if you tried to overpower or coerce any of those species, they would 100% just kill you. It makes a lot more sense if the humans were just following herds around, and it gradually developed into protecting those herds from predators and tending to them more intentionally until we were kind of just part of the herds ourselves.
a lot of people are familiar with Biblical stories and metaphors about shepherds...it's clear those guys were basically living with sheep 24/7. They were assimilated to the sheep lifestyle.
this theory kinda suggests that we've lost the ability to domesticate new animal species to some extent because domestication has never really involved removing an animal from its natural environment. Feeding wild animals and trying to socialize them to humans isn't in line with the mutualistic nature of domestication because it's trying to change the animal to our whims, and usually decreases the fitness of the animal rather than increases it. And domestication probably takes a long long time to reach the level where an animal can be a "pet" instead of a more distant form of domestication where the association is not as close.
EXCEPT. Animals that adapt to our environment are prime candidates for domestication. This actually checks out because rats and mice are some of the most recently domesticated animals, iirc. Basically, pest animals are the most likely to be domesticated because they've already started evolving into a relationship with us. Just like weeds.
An interesting side note is how both animals and plants can de-domesticate and become "weeds/pests" again. Like "weedy rice" is becoming a problem in some crops where rice has evolved into a weed. And with animals, there's pigeons who were domesticated by us and now their habitat is cities because they co-evolved with us.
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theres-a-body-here · 4 months
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Having a Vampire Boyfriend would be so fucking funny
Like imagine cooking and accidentally cutting your finger while chopping carrots or sum shit.
"Fuck!" You exclaim, flinching away as the knife clatters to the countertop. Blood drips down your fingers as you hold your wound close to your body.
Your vampire boo is immediately on you. He gently grabs your hand, wanting to see the damage.
It's not too deep.
He grabs a napkin and cleans the blood. "You have to be more careful, love," he mutters softly.
You flush slightly, a bit embarrassed at his coddling. "I'm fine, really."
He finishes patting your wound clean and presses his lips to your hand. His cold skin feels refreshing against the heated injury, making you let out a soft sigh. He pulls away as he holds the bloodied napkin a little too protectively.
"So..." he begins, nervously fiddling with the napkin. "Can I?" He bats his eyelashes as his voice borders on begging.
You roll your eyes and let out a sigh. At least he asked this time.
You turn to look at him. "Sure, but don't be weird abou—"
Him immediately:
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yanderenightmare · 3 months
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TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omegaverse/hybrid au, size difference, pet-play, predator x prey, collaring, handcuffing
fem reader
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Think about being a bleating little bunny hunted down by two big bad wolves…
Your fear tastes so good – layered thickly in the air – so sweet in their mouth it’s almost painful how hungry it makes them – seeped and soaked and stained on the bed where they keep you collared and leashed for their own personal use.
You drive them both wild with your aroma and all your cute little struggles where you try so adorably to shove them away and crawl out of their reach. It’s never any use, and yet you still try despite being so stupidly small beneath them – so tiny it only takes one of their hefty hands to have you completely overpowered.
But they’re as sweet as they can be – as sweet as your smaller body allows them to be when it so obviously isn’t meant to take their thicker fatter meaner cocks in its petite little holes – prepping you on tongues and big fingers until you’re as loose as you get before stuffing you with something that’s always going to be too big for you.
They have to tie your hands to something – where despite them being fruitless in their effort, they can become bothersome to leave free – often attaching them to the loop in your collar, so you keep them to yourself all cutely while they mark you with their fangs – making you into a pretty artwork with coarse fingers rubbing your perky little nipples into sore nubs.
You’re really just too cute; it’s cruel – looking up at them with those adorably big eyes and that button nose wrinkling on each little sniffle when you beg them to let you go. Lop-ears sadly framing your face – so soft in their hands and so sensitive it makes you bite your lip all preciously each time they give them a little nibble.
You sob under their touches – knees shaking – as one of them laps at your clit with a bearded chin tickling your puffy pussy-lips, gnawing some on the swollen flesh while slurping your hole. His thick and eager tongue paints through your slit again and again and again on an unrelenting repeat – similar to the eager tail whipping behind him – swallowing all your juice down – growling ferally at the maddening taste while your thighs sweetly tremble around his jaw.
Your other predator bites on the plump of your ass, leaving spotted rings in his wake. Cupping your buttcheeks – fully fitting in the palms of his mighty paws – he cards his claws into the fat and spreads them wide open for an attack on that pretty tight little ring hidden between them. You always whine so sweetly for him – your cute fluffy cottontail doing a little dance while he circles your rim with his tongue – warning you of what’s to come later in the day when he’s finally had the taunt hole fully stretched and as ready as it gets to take his fat knot.
He moans into you while thinking about it – about your cute bunny butt swallowing his meat and being blown full of his thick creampie. Going livid at the mere thought alone – his cock bobs impatiently against his happy trail while he forces restraint upon himself – knowing how if he tries splitting your poor little butt on his pole now, he’d most likely tear you in two.
Instead, he amuses himself by prodding the pretty hole with the tip of a very special golden carrot – fresh batteries turning your rim numb while he slides ring after thicker ring inside you until you close around the tuft of golden leaves at its end. Tugging on his cock impatiently, he places his head – fluffy pointy ear-down upon your belly – listening to the drums echo inside you as he turns the vibrations up high enough to feel it through your skin. 
Of course, he wants to make sure that his precious little bunny is prepped and ready before subjugating you to a good butt-fuck – being kind enough to satisfy himself with your mouth until then – making you cry and choke around his thickness, swallowing his cock down your tight throat until your little nose burrow in the dark curls around his base – watching the pretty furrow between your brows beg for air as your eyes roll back and turn white with desperation.
He lets you suck his balls as mercy once you’ve choked him down long enough – to the point you’ve lost your pretty voice – gripping one of your lop ears, he holds it tightly by the base – thinking there's nothing cuter than spitting on your chubby bunny-face while you dizzily comfort yourself by nuzzling his sack so sweetly. 
Your pussy is left alone after it’s made swollen by a handful of orgasms, but not before the abuser slaps his handiwork with a grin. He wipes his chin off your slick, then grabs your other free ear – messaging the softness as he pulls your mouth off the other’s sack and onto his cock – fucking the pocket of your cheek while you sob from their rough handlings – fearing they might just tear your poor ears off.
They both stand above you as you kneel for them by their feet, lolling your teary lips against their heavy balls – groaning as you give them all sloppy, open-mouthed kisses as they fight for space in your tiny mouth – telling you to beg for the cum stored inside while you slide you pink little tongue over them until they drip with your drool. Then, making your lip and mouth the spine of their shafts, sliding both fat manhoods between your plump lips until making you take one head at a time, licking the slit clean of slaty precum.
But more than childsplay with their cocks on your cute face, they like propping your other two holes – make you moan and cream on them – entirely obsessed with fucking you full of the two of them – pushing in so deep, they have you screaming and shaking in uncontrollable spasms as you clamp down hard around them.
It feels extra sweet when they fuck you at the same time – feeling the other through the wall separating the holes – timing their thrusts – pushing in until completely sheathed down to the base, bottomed-out with their knot swelling up inside you, pumping you full of hot cum before sloshing out – leaving you panting and twitching.
Both holes fluttering around their absence – they inspect them to see how good they have your little bunny-holes stretched – grinning at the sight of both entrances gaping for them as though they can’t wait to be taken by their big dicks – both chuckling deeply when seeing how much of their cum your tightness pushes out before they fuck it right back inside you again – completely mesmerized by the big belly bulge the two of them are making in your tiny body – taken and riveted by the thought of breeding you despite knowing that it would be impossible for you to carry either of their pups. 
None of it keeps them from emptying the full value of their balls inside you for the umpteenth time – both of them slobbering at your neck while messaging you with big hands on your tits and hips, hissing out carnivorous desires your feeble constitution doesn’t understand before they sink their teeth down hard into the soft flesh of your vulnerable neck – claiming you as both their pretty little prey and silly little mate.
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BNHA – EndMight, EndHawks, BakuDeku, KiriBaku, DabiHawks, ShigaDabi
JJK – Toji x Shiu, SatoSugu
HQ – Miya twins
DS – DouAka
HxH – HisoIllu
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peachesofteal · 4 months
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Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader This will make the most sense if you read this first
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Simon is chopping vegetables when the power goes down.
It happens in slow motion. The lights waver, warm yellow glow from the living room lamp trembling before it goes out with the television, along with the bright white glaze of the bulbs in the kitchen. They flicker, they flare, dipping his world into darkness.
Months ago, he might have panicked. His anxiety might have peaked, he would have considered checking the locks, ensuring the shades are drawn, validated any weak points of entry. He would have gone for closest stashed handgun.
But things are different now. His mind doesn't jump to a security breach, or an imminent threat. He doesn't consider his consider his "go bag", he doesn't reach for his "work" phone.
Instead, he only thinks of you.
He raises his voice to ensure it reaches you through the flat. "Think we lost power."
"Simon!" Your voice is drenched in fear, the two syllables of his name dripping in it, white flash of panic just on the edge, and the knife goes down easy on the cutting board, carrots and celery nearly finished, electric burners on the stove turning from red to black. Candles. There are candles in here somewhere, aren't there? And flashlights.
"Sweetheart?" The flashlight on his cell clicks on, and he double checks the knife is safely away from the edge of the counter. He calls your name, waiting for a response, for an acknowledgment from Emma's room, where the door is open with his girls inside, one of them fresh out of the bath and hopefully, nearly asleep.
There's no answer. He sweeps the flashlight across the ground, hoping to avoid blinding you or Emmaline, working his way closer to the pitch black doorway. The space in his mind that was calm a moment ago, now begins to spiral. Why aren't you answering him? "Honey? You alright?"
Emma begins to cry. It's not her hungry cry, or her full nappy cry, or her attention cry, but something else, something scared. Distressed.
He's in the room with the flashlight pointed at the ceiling to ensure it bounces off the white paint and around the four walls within a second, heart now hammering in his chest, and when he finds you, spine stiff, eyes peeled wide in terror, something in him breaks.
You're standing in front of the crib, Emmaline cradled tightly in your arms, rapid rise and fall of your chest too fast, too uncontrolled, your usual whimsical, effortless beauty marred by a grim absence, your body frozen into a cage around the baby, empty gaze locked on the floor.
He recognizes it immediately. Knows it too well, knows it in himself better than anything else, a cursory reaction pushing him forward- his touch over yours, his hands supporting Emma's weight. You gasp into him, wild, staggered breaths that make his stomach twist, and he rubs a soothing palm down your spine. "It's okay." He coos. "You're okay, just breathe. I'm here. You're safe, mama, I've got you." Emma hollers, confused and scared, and he pulls her into his chest, holding her there with one arm, another still tethered to you, trying to jog you back to yourself, to your body. To him. "Just breathe, sweetheart. You're alright, take a big breath."
It doesn't work, and he can't do both, so he makes a split second decision, one he hopes doesn't make everything worse. "I know, baby girl. I know. Mama's alright, she's okay." He bounces Emma, relaxing a fraction when her crying settles, and then leans in to cup your cheek, tipping your face up to his. "I'm going to put her in the living room, honey. In the pack and play, okay? I'll be right back. Jus' keep breathing." You give him nothing except for an attempt at a deeper inhale, and he soothes Emma with a close cuddle, finding your phone and pulling it from the dresser to make sure the baby isn't left alone in the dark.
She goes into the little pen in the living room so easily, already nearly asleep again, and he pats her back for a moment, ensuring she's comfortable before running into the room, back to you.
You're blinking now, cheeks wet and shining in the dark, breathing a bit less haggard, and it kills him, haunts him, to see you so terrified, so lost in your own head. "Hey sweetheart. Can you hear me?" He touches you carefully, intentionally, the lack of resistance encouraging to the point he feels confident enough to hold you, cradling your head against his chest, curled over your body like a shield.
"Si-Simon." Your fingers tighten into his side.
"It's me. I'm here, I've got you."
"Em..."
"She's in the next room. She's okay." He smooths a palm over your temple, into your hair. "Let's take a look at you, sweet girl, can we do that? Can you look at me?" You tilt back, eyes and lids sluggish, but with it, conscious, and the anxious knot in his heart relaxes slightly.
"The lights." You stammer, and he nods.
"The electric went out. Did it scare you?" You give him a confused look, like you didn't hear him, or didn't understand. He strokes a thumb across your tear stained cheek and repeats himself. "It's okay, did the dark give you a fright?"
"N-no. Not..." You shake with the denial. "It's... is there a fire?"... what? He cocks his head. A fire?
Oh.
Oh.
His sweet, sweet girl. Not afraid of the dark, only lost and tormented by your grief. Terrified of losing again, trapped in a nightmare that is all too familiar to him.
"No, there's no fire, angel. I'm right here. I'm here, with you." He uncurls your frozen fingers to splay them flat against his chest, over where his heart thumps steadily, covering it with his own. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."
"You promise." You croak, and he hums, rocking you slowly, gently swaying in the dim light of the phone's flashlight.
"I promise." He swallows the shiver in his voice, burying his nose atop your hair, holding you as tightly as he can. "I swear. Nothing could keep me from you, nothing. Remember?" You rasp out a yeah, feathery soft and feeble, and he kisses the crown of your head, sweet and slow, rubbing your back, your shoulders, kneading the tension from your muscles until the glaze of your panic fades, somber expression tightening across your face. "None of that." He whispers, because he knows what you'll say, he know how you'll try to apologize, try to explain it. "I know, sweetheart. I know."
He gets you folded up on the couch in his arms after locating and lighting most of the candles, setting up a few flashlights in the bathroom and bedroom, collection of mix matched scents littering the coffee table. You're weepy and exhausted, watching Emma sleep in the pack and play, her blissful little face sugar plum sweet as she dreams, and he tucks you into his chest, laying you down, facing her, mouth pressing little kisses to your temple, your cheek, your ear.
"Close your eyes." He encourages when you yawn. "You can sleep. I just want to hold you." The fireplace pops, and you crack an eyelid wide.
"She might wake up." You mumble.
"I know, I'll get her." He soothes, and you wilt, easily reassured by him, something that makes his chest swell with pride. He keeps his fingers moving, stroking across your skin, settling you into twilight, and just as you slip into your own dreams, he whispers a final testament, something he carries with him, every second of every day. "I've got you. I've got you both."
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dilfsfordinner · 3 months
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a/n- i might have severe baby fever, idk.
pairing- husband toji x fem!reader
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Contrary to his name literally meaning “blessing”, Megumi was nothing short of a curse during bath time. He absolutely hated it, and he made it his tiny life’s mission to make sure his parents dreaded it as well.
“Megs, please just.. work with me here,” Toji pleaded, exhaustion brewing inside of him, his hands desperately trying to keep the squirming child before him tame.
You’d gone to run some errands, leaving Toji to attempt bath time alone, his previous confidence shriveling into nothingness the second he heard little Megumi cry as soon as he was dunked into the warm water. At three months old, he was the perfect child, quiet and happy, tame in every aspect of life, a fact that seemed to be nothing but false when Toji was the one left in charge of watching him.
Toji didn’t even think it possible for something to cry as much as Megumi did without passing out, but he had been proven wrong before, the wriggling thing in his hands wailing his heart out to try and convince his dad to let him out. “I’m sorry baby, but you did this to yourself,” he huffed, gently rubbing bubbles along his son’s belly, tiny feet kicking water up at him, Megumi clearly trying to escape the horror of his nightly bath.
You see, Toji would feel bad for his baby had he not been the cause for the bath in the first place, the mashed carrots he had for dinner ending up smeared down his face and front, far from the target of his mouth. Said carrots began to fade away from the whimpering Megumi’s skin, turning the water into a soapy orange. His little body fit perfectly in Toji’s large hands, the newborn scrunch still apparent as baby Megs’ legs squished up to his belly in a useless attempt at kicking his dad’s fingers away.
The crying problem only escalated as soon as Toji introduced a washcloth into the picture, Megumi squealing, kicking and writhing with so much force, he might as well have been a full-grown adult.
Without your seemingly ‘all-knowing’ insight when it came to parenting, Toji rushed to find his own solution, grabbing a used bottle of soap that appeared to be extremely bubbly, hurriedly pumping out the liquid into the water filled basin, praying that the mysterious substance would somehow, someway, quell the curse possessing his son.
It was almost as if Megumi was hypnotized or something, because the instant the familiar smell of his mother hit his nose, his screaming cries died down to nothing but little babbles, coos leaving him in a low, comfortable purr. You see, it wasn’t just any old soap bottle. No, it was the soap you had used to bathe Megs the night after you’d come home from the hospital after giving birth. Toji remembered just how surreal and peaceful the night was, so he could understand why the familiar scent would coax his baby into a severe bout of relaxation.
Finally quitting his incessant wriggling, Megumi relaxed in Toji’s hold, the smell of the soap slowly coaxing him into a sleepy state, his little nose wrinkling and eyelids occasionally fluttering open and closed. Toji hadn't noticed before but his tiny fingers began to wrap around his pinky finger, holding onto it in a playful manner.
“hm-” Toji hummed, finally understanding the cause of his son’s untamable mood. “You just miss mama, huh?” he murmured, gentle as he picked up a sponge, running the soft material along the cooing baby’s chest and belly, sudsing up his little body, taking advantage of the sleepy mood that seemed to come over the boy.
“Yeah.. me too,” was all Toji could think to say, honestly relating to the fit his son had thrown over missing his mother, Toji feeling the same way but without the screaming and crying to show it. Finishing his gentle cleansing, Toji leaned down to press a kiss on the sleepy Megumi’s forehead. "Let’s get you to bed," he whispered, hand cupping some water to rinse him with before he gently lifted him to his chest, head resting against his shoulder.
It was a breeze the rest of the night, Toji falling victim to sleep as well, he and Megumi alike in a sense that they both enjoyed resting more than anything. The couch was the chosen spot, Toji lying shirtless against the large piece of furniture, Megumi’s blue, fuzzy onesie warm against his chest as they dozed off, a large hand resting against the tiny baby’s back, holding him safe and sound even while unconscious.
He couldn’t explain it, but being alone with his child, his baby, kindled a feeling of comfortability, of pure contentment, in his chest, he knew that no matter how untamable or stubborn or confusing Megumi could be at times, he would always be his son, his little curse of a blessing.
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