#but i'm only into people other than myself going through these situations

[shameeater]

Desperation

I feel frustrated trying to look for kink content centered around desperation... at first with omo when that was my thing, and then when messing became more of my thing, and remained so. 

I guess because content creators of this genre want to mess themselves, and it comes through in the videos. I just wish they would really make it convincing I guess? It doesn’t scratch the itch for me if it doesn’t seem like they’re fighting it or struggling. Pushing doesn’t do it for me, emotionless “oh no, oh I’m gonna piss my pants” doesn’t do it for me. 

Gas desperation literally isn’t a thing at all it seems, which is sad. No one puts up the act of being really embarrassed and trying to hold it in :\ I’m horny for the STRUGGLE. I’ve seen a couple of videos that do it for me where the creator really pushes themself to fight to hold things in until they come out, and that’s sexy to me. 

Humiliation as well is difficult, because someone may have the kink, but that doesn’t mean they can convincingly portray being humiliated when acting out a scene.

I wish I wasn't so picky about that because it’s annoying to not be into something that SHOULD be doing it for me but it does nothing 😭

[rieamena]

totally (not) beating the allegations

best friend!takuma ino headcanons

contains... best friends to lovers, mutual pining, casual confession of love, kisses (platonic), kisses (romantic), modern au, high school to university au, living together-ish, fem intended reader, pet names (baby, babe, love, sexy, handsome, beautiful, sweetie, the list goes on and on), lots of physical touch, nicknames (you call takuma, kuma.), reader has a mother and a father, y'all are basically dating just without the label...

word count: 2.3k (this wasn't supposed to be long. i told myself 0.8k maximum...)

riea's comments: all sixteen people living in takuma city RISE UP! i miss my husband of 35 years so much, come back to me loml :(( something to munch on while y'all wait for the next full throttle chapter. also not too much on me if this is a drabble and not hcs idk the difference :))

first off... i just wanna say that i KNOW I KNOW that ino is one of the funniest people in the jjk cast idc idc!!! if he had more screentime (and if the situation wasnt dire) my boy would be crackin some jokes!!!!

you've been friends with takuma for around 7 years, your first meeting happening in tenth grade, when your teacher paired you two up for an interview project. when time came to actually record the interviews, it was hard to edit out you two laughing uncontrollably every fifteen seconds or so

i mean, you two just had so much in common!!! same favorite color, same favorite franchise, same favorite tv show, same favorite video game; it was like yall were the same person. there was just one thing you both disagreed on: whether hex code #286061 was blue or green

your argument ended up being the last ten minutes of the final video you submitted...

without a doubt, after that, you two became inseparable. in school, people would take notice of your closeness. when one of you were absent, teachers would jokingly ask "where's the other one?"

there was not a single thing you didn't do together, homework, go to the gym, gossip, eavesdrop, etc etc. so of course, you ended up applying to the same universities and when it came time for college acceptance season...

takuma invited you over, forcing you to bring your mailed letters from the eight universities. sprawling out over his lap, you took in the all too familiar sight of his room. you've been in his room more times than you've been in your own (and vice versa!)

i mean ino's been over to your place so many times that he calls your parents mom and dad. and you've been over to his house so much that takuma's mom practically jumped for joy every time you burst through the front doors with a "guess who's home!!!" so it was completely normal that you guys knew the ins and outs of each other's rooms, right?

"kuma, baby," you started with a sigh, reveling in your best friend's repetitive motions. running his hand through your hair, ino looked down at you, eyes showing that he was listening. "i'm scared, what if we don't–"

"ah-ah-ah! no negativity here!" he cut you off, pushing you off his lap and grabbing the letters you left on his desk. "listen here beautiful," takuma says, bringing a hand to your cheek, his heart swelling when you subconsciously leaned into it, "we're gonna take each other's letters, and open them," he handed you a white envelope, the logo of both of yours dream university on it, "starting with, kyōmei."

taking a well needed deep breath, you nodded. "okay," you and ino began to open the envelopes at the same time, only looking at each other when you saw the status. "accepted or rejected in 3...2...1..."

"ACCEPTED"

"ACCEPTED"

cue the mandatory silence before the screaming. "holy shit. you got in." "you got in." "WE GOT IN!!! WE'RE GOING TO KYŌMEI!!!!" you two practically flew off the bed, jumping up and down in celebration. peppering his face in kisses, you nuzzled your face into takuma's neck. "i'm so proud of us! i mean, kyōmei," you pulled away from his neck, shaking his shoulders harshly, "the kyōmei?!!!"

anyways, soon enough, you both realized that you'd have to move away, resulting in a seven hour search for apartments near the university's campus. and just as takuma was about to give up, you found a listing for units 19A and 19B, right in the heart of the city and just a five minute walk from kyōmei

and with that, it was moving day, well, days is more like it considering that the whole process took like ten days... finding cute furniture is really hard! and moving all of it is even harder!! and don't even get me started on the appliances! although, you and takuma found a way around it

like what do both of you need a microwave for? and there isn't a reason to have two dishwashers, there wasn't even a reason to have one! y'all kept your fridges though... who was gonna be banging on the other's door in the middle of the night for some cold water??

with time, it came for the highly anticipated freshman formal, an welcome event hosted by kyōmei itself, and of course, you had to go. so here you were, staring at your figure in the mirror as your best friend's large hand rubbed your shoulder, the other zipping up your black dress. "all done!" he breathed, taking a step away so that you could see for yourself. "i look so cute~" you giggled, hearing the clack of your heels as you twirled. "you do!" he paused, looking you up and down, "when did you get that dress?"

"your mom gave it to me a couple days ago! where'd you get that tux? i don't think i've seen it before," you walked over and straightened takuma's suit, as he laughed in response, "your mom gave it to me..."

"this was planned."

"this was definitely planned."

"we should send a picture in the family group chat!"

"we should!!! but, hair first!"

notice how i said family group chat, singular, not plural. and that's because there's a gc for both of your families! it's name was a mix between "ino" and your last name, since, in all seriousness, your families were close

so here you were, sitting pretty on takuma's lap as you focused on straightening the front pieces of his hair, because that's what best friends do!

"okayyyy sexyyyy," you squealed, moving out of the way so that takuma could see himself in your vanity mirror, "damnn, i look hot!" he smiled as he checked himself out, his hand firmly on your waist (to make sure that you wouldn't fall, of course!). "i knew i was fine but, did i always look this fine?" he asked, looking up at you with his big dark brown eyes, a playful smirk evident on his face. "yes, takuma. you're the sexiest man ever. just a bit of eyeliner on you and we'll be on our way, okay?"

turning back to your station, you grabbed some brown and black pencils before starting to lightly draw over ino's outer eye corner, "do men as sexy as me really need eyeliner?" a look from you was all he needed to know to shut up and close his eyes

and oh, how he loved being so close to you. not just emotionally but physically as well. like, not every duo can say that they barge into the other's apartment to steal snacks! and speaking of snacks... let me just say, there's a whole cabinet in his kitchen reserved for your favorite foods and! he keeps your favorite ice cream flavor stocked in his freezer

you, on the other hand, have a little space where you hide takuma's favorite anything. chips, gummies, takeout menus, you name it, you have it. because your best friend is oh-so-optimistic, it can be harder for him when he's just not having the best of days. which is why when you go your (not so) separate ways at the end of the day, you pack up a basket for him. ribbons in his favorite color, his top 15 favorite snacks from that one time y'all bought one of everything in a nearby convenience store and ranked them, takeout on the way, horror flicks he's been wanting on dvd because he said "its cooler that way", and a handwritten letter from you, for my kuma, scribbled on the envelope

dropping off the basket at his door and retreating back to your place, you'd press your ear against the wall separating your units, physically feeling your heart break when you heard sniffles. that was all you needed to practically fly over to his, a few boxes of tissues in hand. because that's what best friends do!

and don't even get me started on how many belongings y'all have at the other's place... like that one time takuma walked into your apartment announcing his presence, only to be met with silence. let me set up the scene for you. you are taking a relaxing shower when you hear a knock on the door followed by four more and then three more. "come in!" you called out, unbeknownst to you, ino's voice was closer than you thought

"already in here..., anyways. is my shampoo in there?"

"the one with the purple cap?"

"yeah, thanks babe!"

"wait, can you get me my towel?"

or that time when you causally opened the door to his unit (because it was basically yours too) and greeted him with a simple pat on his head before skipping off to find those jeans you thrifted

slight cohabitation aside, the university life was definitely... something. it was clear and obvious that you two were close, a blind man could see it. but close is a really really really vague word, and it's surely not the word that describes the way the two of you act. in this friendship, terms of endearment drop like rain from clouds. every. other. sentence. contains a "babe" or "baby" or "sweetheart" or "darling" WE GET IT OKAY...

and it seems like if y'all go a single day without touching each other, a bomb will fall from the sky and earth would blow up. his hands are constantly on you, his favorite places (when in public) being your shoulders and arms, and when at home it was without a doubt your waist and thighs. just imagine how difficult it must be for people speak to you both on campus when his arm is slung around you and your hand is holding onto his side. the rumors practically created themselves....

and when i say people were shocked, i mean they were SHOCKED when y'all were like "haha, no, we're not dating!!! we're best friends!" everyone was thinking: yeah best friends who FUCK. best friends who are IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER. y'all became the campus' it couple without being a couple. how does that happen??!??

however... there were a couple of people who were particularly excited to hear that you both were single. a few girls approached you one day while in the general area, asking if it was true that you and ino weren't dating. "we aren't... why?" one of the girls shifted on her feet, clearly nervous. "well... could you um... give this to him for me?!" she bowed, presenting a pretty pink envelope. you froze, staring at the item before giggling. "i see what this is about! don't worry! i'll make sure this gets to him safely!" long story short, that letter was never delivered

and on ino's side, he had some classmates pestering him about you. asking for your favorite show, candy, date style, everything under the sun. "guys, guys! she doesn't even want a boyfriend right now!" takuma shouted, even though two days prior you were complaining about how spending too much time with him was scaring all the hotties away

but let's get into the real stuff... the realization of love

for takuma, there wasn't a "wow, i'm in love with her" moment. what he does know though is that he started feeling something different for you a few months before college admission season. to him, the world was always bright with you by his side but now... it was so much brighter. it was like looking directly into the sun; it hurt but he couldn't look away, he doesn't want to look away. you're the best thing to ever happen to him, and the mere thought of ruining what you have just for some feeling—no matter how intense—isn't... right to him

and you figured it out after a dream you had one night back in high school. you dreamt of being in takuma's arms, the ones you snuck glances at when he wasn't paying attention to you. in not dream world, all you had to do was ask and he'd gladly envelop you but the vibes in this dream were different. there was tension. and it was thick. his beanie was off and thrown somewhere on the bed, your bed. looking back at him, your breath caught in your throat, "hey pretty," he slurred, drunk off tiredness. ino's called you beautiful more times than you can count; he made sure to do it at least once a week, so why... just why did this time make your stomach heat up and your heart race? you woke up with a flushed face, queasy feeling in your gut, and a deep understanding. it wasn't just platonic love anymore

"hey," you started, eyes trained on the movie in front of you, but your mind was focused on something else, "y'know how everyone thinks we're dating?" ino nodded as you reached over to grab the bowl of popcorn. "i've been thinking... maybe they're onto something..."

takuma's gulp could be heard from miles away, "wh-what are you trying to say?"

"what are we? seriously. because i can't sit here and pretend like i don't wish we were something more."

"something more like...?"

"now's not the time to be oblivious! don't you get it?! i'm—"

"i'm in love with you,"

it was like time stood still as you looked at your best friend. his face was lit by the tv screen a couple feet away, his hair was a mess, and slightly prominent dark circles were under his eyes, but... he's never looked more beautiful to you. "have been. for a long time. we've basically been dating for like four years already. four more and then we'll get married?" he flashed his signature smile

"oh, shut up," he brought your face millimeters away from his, whispering "make me." before kissing you deeply, not on your cheek, or your forehead, or your shoulders, but on your lips this time. and all the times after that too

because that's what best friends lovers do, right?

jjk taglist

@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice

@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @sugurusbaobei @raindropsonrwses

@c-moon20-12 @saltynanobeanie @theamazingrain @synthiiiiis @ghostlyluminarycloud

@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @laitifly @discipleofthem

@cheesecake95 @strawberry-cherrypie @makeshiftproject @magiamad0ka @ncitygreen

@stillnotherapy @oniondrip @cloudy-yyy @definitely-not-leena @kidd3ath

@atigerandabear @russianremy @ohnoitsamistakee18 @ivy-vivii @ourfinalisation

@1ndee @yourhornysister @ancientimes

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Hello!!! I have a request if that’s okay with you. 💕

Would you maybe write a Spencer x quiet!reader? Where she doesn’t have the courage to talk to him because she’s too shy?

I don’t really have a plot in mind so that’s up to you!! I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with any ideas but hopefully it lets you write whatever you want. Thank you for taking the time to read this. And I read your other stories, you’re so underrated and amazing I love your wording when you write. 🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻

Hi Mary!! Thank you so much for your kind words c:

I did my best c: I hope you like it!

Round Table (Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader (if not gn please let me know, but I'm fairly certain it is!)

Word Count: 1538

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, but besides that none?

A/N: this was so fun c: i am really enjoying challenging myself with your guys' requests. hope you enjoy!!

------

You were an incredibly anxious person, which, honestly, was okay. You tried not to let your anxiety hinder your life too much, but like any other human being, sometimes it got in the way. It was frustrating, sure, knowing that a situation would be so much easier if you weren’t so anxious about it, but you reminded yourself often that you weren’t perfect, and neither was anyone else. 

Some people were afraid of heights, of the ocean, of needles. Some people had trouble going out into crowds or grew overstimulated in public places. 

You? You were painfully shy. There was always an adjustment period to being around new people.

Baristas, the bus driver, pharmacy techs, cashiers at the grocery store - you did just fine. But those were one-time interactions, brief discussions that you could compartmentalize. 

They came with a script to follow, with cue cards already queued up in your head as they occurred. You could put on an emotional mask for five minutes while the nurse at the clinic gave you a flu shot. You could smile and speak in your special voice labeled Getting Coffee, an octave higher than you usually spoke, in order to acquire your much-needed beverage. There was a clear goal in mind with each of these dialogues. Sure, you didn’t present as the most confident person in the world, but you always made it through conversations like these without stumbling over your words or being too terribly awkward.  

You didn’t succeed as much with deeper connections, with ones that took time to cultivate. You were a guarded person to begin with, with only a handful of people you felt truly close to. Vulnerability had always been difficult for you, but you supposed you were in the majority on that front. It took a while to become comfortable around coworkers, extended family, hell, even your therapist. You had to have time to adjust, to settle in. 

A lot of people in your life thought you were just socially awkward or even an agoraphobe, but you didn’t mind being around people. It was the intimacy, the connection, the having to give away little pieces of yourself, that made you anxious. It kept you from participating in conversations most of the time, usually only speaking unless spoken to. 

You liked your job as a linguistics and handwriting analyst in the FBI for that very reason. You didn’t have to say much  to people unless it was related to a case. With a clear goal in mind, a threat to neutralize, you could turn on that mechanical part of your brain that spouted off facts, information, theories. You didn’t have to tell anyone about your weekend, about your hopes and dreams or your favorite foods. 

You were consulting on a case for the Behavioral Analysis Unit - a serial killer who stalked his victims months before their murders, sending handwritten letters and using poetry to taunt them. Your supervisor had asked you to collaborate with the BAU, sending you to the sixth floor on your own. 

For the last two days, you’d been working closely with Dr. Spencer Reid - Spencer, he insisted you call him. Just a couple of years older than you, but still very young for his role in the FBI. He was friendly,  and very smart, and he rambled on about all kinds of things - 

Everything, actually. The Chinese food you’d had for lunch on the first day? He explained the origin of fortune cookies. Did you know their first appearance in the US was in San Francisco in the late 1800s? 

Pointing out a Dickinson line in one of the UnSub’s letters? Did you know only ten of Emily Dickinson’s poems were actually published when she was alive and the rest were posthumous? 

You often just nodded along and smiled, occasionally throwing in an oh, that’s very interesting to appear as an active listener. And you were an active listener. You did genuinely think he was interesting, and you found his info dumps to be incredibly endearing. But your contributions to the conversation were abysmal in comparison.

Beyond discussing patterns in the UnSub’s letters and what it might mean for each victim, you had no other fascinating information to share. You didn’t do well with small talk, and Spencer didn’t ask you any overtly personal questions. 

It wasn’t until close to the end of the second day spent in the conference room of the BAU’s office that Spencer asked you a direct question about yourself. 

There were three evidence boards set up, all full of scanned copies of the letters, each one pinned up meticulously by you and Spencer the day before. The large round table in the room had letters stacked out all around it, each one bagged in protective plastic. 

Spencer was standing in front of the evidence boards with his arms crossed over his chest, studying the photocopies with his head inclined to the side. 

He broke the silence you had been slowly settling into the past two days. “Your supervisor said you had a specialization in poetry?” 

You nodded, stepping over to the table and carefully lifting one of the letters up. You liked how he spoke as if you two were in the middle of a conversation, when in fact, it had been totally silent for the past half an hour, save for the soft puttering of the air conditioning vent.

“Studied a lot in undergrad,” you squeaked out, clearing your throat as you held the letter up the fluorescent light above you to examine the stationary. 

“What university did you attend?” Spencer asked, and you turned your head to find him inclining his head to the side. He actually wanted to know? 

“I went to Bennington College to study poetry,” you said softly, suddenly finding it difficult to focus on the letter in your hand. “But I went to graduate school at Georgetown. Master’s in Linguistics.” 

“Really? That’s fascinating,” Spencer commented, which caught you by surprise, especially because he didn’t sound the least bit sarcastic. “That combination of degrees is exceedingly rare. Generally people who major in poetry often either go on to complete as far up as a doctorate in the subject or  they stop at a Bachelor’s degree. The latter statistically don’t end up working in a field related to poetry, either, so their degree is basically useless.” 

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to be offended by that, so instead you just nodded your head politely. “Okay,” you murmured, biting your lip. 

“Can I ask you another question?” Spencer asked, and set the letter in your hand down on the table. You smoothed your hands over the fabric of your shirt and nodded. “Do I… do I make you uncomfortable?” 

You shook your head. “No,” you said assuredly, and then, a little more hesitantly, “…why would you ask me that?” 

Spencer turned to face you. “You’re just very quiet unless we’re discussing the case. Which is fine, of course, but I just… I don’t know. I thought maybe you were annoyed by me or I said something to offend you.” 

You felt guilt spread over you and your cheeks turned pink. The last thing you’d wanted was to make anyone feel bad who didn’t deserve it. And the very kind, helpful, and adorable Dr. Spencer Reid was the furthest from deserving to feel bad. 

 “I just don’t talk a lot,” you tried to explain. Your hand rubbed the spot where the top of your chest met the skin of your neck, an anxious habit you’d had for years. “I mean, I do with people I know, and that’s not to say I dominate the conversation by any means, but I just…” you realized you were rambling. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” you added, your voice just above a whisper. 

“Thank you,” Spencer’s lips flickered into a straight-lined smile, one you had seen several times over the past few days, often when unintentional eye contact was made across the table. “For clarifying, I mean, that I didn’t offend you.” He cleared his throat, and leaned against the round table, standing just a few feet from you. Still a very professional and comfortable distance, but closer than he had been before. “So, does that mean that if we got to know each other, you’d talk more?” The corners of his lips spread out and his smile grew. 

You tore your eyes away from his to look at the letter in your hand, the protective plastic around it crinkling between your fingers. You weren’t actually looking at the letter, though. You’d just needed somewhere - anywhere - else to look. “That’s generally how it goes,” you murmured, biting your lip. 

“So, if I were to, for example, ask you to meet me for dinner sometime, could the getting to know each other happen there?” 

Your eyes fluttered over to Spencer’s and you saw him smiling. You could tell by how he looked at you, with his head inclined just slightly to the side, that he was being fully serious. You nodded, unable to control the small smile on your face. 

Spencer grinned, and you could tell he couldn’t resist when he spoke again. “So, is that a yes?” 

[lidiasloca]

Ok this one of my ideas not sure if I have actually read it before or if it was a fever dream. Az has a girlfriend/ mate that the inner circle hasn’t met before.she works with marja as a high and has maybe other powers I don’t know. I have 2x options in which to take this idea. 1. Azzy gets very hurt on a mission and his brought to you to fix him. Very emotional IC and reader. They save him blah blah. 2. Some of the healers are working on so far out town. Az was cutie and like don’t go. She was like boo you go all the time I going to help people. Love you be back soon. But while they are there they are kidnapped by someone ( you pick). Word gets back to Marja who tells Rhys and Az happens to be there. Az freaks out when he hears our name on the list of miss. Blah blah.

totally cool if you don’t wanna use. It is just an idea.

azriel being worried about you going on a mission

azriel x reader

fulff

a/n: i ain't really not for angst these days, so i only took the beginning of your second idea, hope u dont mind :)

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

“You will not go,” Azriel sates, and his voice is so commanding and serious you stop in your tracks. 

“Azriel, we’ve been through this. I’m a healer. This is my job.”

“No, your job is to heal people being safe,” he explains as if you were stupid. You know he means well, but you are growing more irritated by the moment. “Your job is not putting your life in danger.”

“Well, saving lives in the middle of a war comes obviously with my life being in danger.”

Giving him your back, you continue packing all you need for the journey. You hear his footsteps getting closer, then his hand is on your back, gently stroking. “Y/N. Please,” and it sounds enough of a plea for you to turn and face him. 

“Azriel, you constantly put yourself in danger. Almost everyday I have to see you leave to work, with no assurance you will come back.”

His eyes drop to his feet in defeat. “I know, and I know it’s not fair for me to ask you this. But - I simply don’t care.” He watches you again, a spark of confidence and hope settles in his eyes. “I cannot risk loosing you, and the risk of loosing you is higher than yours is to lose me on a mission.” When he catches your frown, he adds, “You must give me this; I know how to defend myself better than you in the battlefield.”

You let out a soft chuckle, the seriousness of before fading a bit as a timid smile blooms on his face.

But your mind is made up. “Azriel,” you sigh. “I must go still.”

His lips close to a thin line, worry back in his face. He takes your hands in his scarred ones. You are to hear his angry pleads again, but to your surprise, he simple answers, “Alright.”

You open your eyes wide in astonishment. “Alright?”

Your mate grins before adding, “Alright.” And that grin means two things. Trouble, or planed trouble. 

“What is your mind up to, Az?” you ask accusingly, as if he was no more than a kid planing mischief. 

His grin grows more teasing. “Nothing, nothing,” he says as he turns to your travel trunk, putting things. His things. “It’s just that I'm going with you.”

“What?”

“What?” he says, totally unfazed by the situation. “You need protection. I want to know you are safe. You are no good with a sword, yet excellent healing people. I’m quite good with a sword. I think it’s a perfect plan.”

“You miss that Rhys has assigned you a mission in the Spring Court. Tomorrow.”

He looks at you, looking at you as if what you’ve said it’s dumb. “I don’t remember that.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Love,” he says, and his voice is serious again. “Please. I beg you, don’t make me suffer like this. Let me accompany you. I will talk to Rhys and he will understand. He knows how terrible it is to know your mate is in danger, no mater how strong or brave she is. And you are, but I am not strong enough to spend every second of the following days not knowing if you are safe.”

You sigh, now you are defeated. “Alright.” He smiles triumphantly, so you are quickly to add sternly, “But no scaring anyone that comes near me, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” and he has that teasing smirk on his face again. 

-Characters by Sarah J Maas

HEY! IF YOU LIKED THIS, YOU CAN CHECK OUT MY AZRIEL MASTERLIST HERE <3

and you can also request any fic idea you have through my inbox so i can write it down :)) i much appreciate requests for azriel and other acotar characters

[bunnys-kisses]

hi bunny! i was wondering if you got an order for sourdough bread and blueberry muffins with a side of hard lemonade for toto? i think tumblr has been eating my asks! but if you did already get it ignore this!! love the writing and i loved the past two toto works 🫶🏻🫶🏻🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

bakery menu

want to submit your own orders? then check out the menu! there are tons of things to order and various wonderful servers. i do fandoms beyond f1 if something else strikes your fancy! as for this one, i see what your brain is cooking and i'm so sorry that your original order got eaten by the monster in my inbox! but thankfully this got through and i love the combination! i have grown a fondness for toto as i am part of a discord with other amazing people that's focused on him <3

sourdough bread ("i'm going to breed you.") + blueberry muffins ("i don't think it'll fit.") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour) served by toto wolff (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, age gap (20/50), wife!reader, breeding kink, size kink (duh), pregnancy, missionary position

toto found your antics amusing. he knew it was just the kind of person you were. you were raised in a household where hugging and kissing on the cheek were normal! toto wasn't going to get mad at you because you were more touch-y feel-y than most.

he found it cute, because you were always so affectionate towards him. you constantly wanted kiss and toto's arm around you. you want to bury into his chest and make a home out of there. you wanted to be close to him.

it wasn't you he didn't trust. it was men.

it was a hands-y mechanic at a party. he was closer to your age and made you laugh, which only left a surge of jealousy in your husband's chest. the mechanic seemed new. so he probably didn't know that you were toto's wife.

you chatted with him happily and toto felt the jealousy surge up further. he finished the drink in his hand before he put the glass down and went to 'rescue' his wife.

"schatzi." toto said, putting on his best smile. he didn't want to scare off the mechanic. he came up to you and placed his hand on your lower back. the size difference was noticable.

you were toto's little wife, you looked up at him and smiled, "ah, honey! this is the new mechanic!"

toto smiled back at you, "i know, my love." he looked at the mechanic and raised his eyebrows, "i know you'll be a great addition to the team this season. it is lovely to finally meet you. this is my wife." he said bluntly, "mrs. wolff."

you perked up, "oh my god, i'm so sorry! i only introduced myself as my first name. this is my husband!"

the new guy's eyes went wide for a moment before he said, "oh... i see." he then cleared his throat, "um, i'll be right back then!" then swiftly left the situation.

you frowned a little and said, "i wonder what that was about." you looked up at your husband, "he seemed scared."

he rubbed the top of your head before he leaned in and kissed you on the apple of your cheek, "mm, i don't think so, schatzi. why don't we go find george and lily?" two people that toto could trust.

-

that evening, toto made sure to show his wife how much he loved you. those large hands on your behind as he got you up onto the shared bed you have. he watched you get out of the dress, exposing your body to him.

your nude form was for his eyes only.

the glittery gold ring on your left hand was evidence of that. your pretty signature with the last name 'wolff' was another. he could get lost in your beauty as he yearned for you. it was a deep throb in his chest at the sight of you.

the pretty nude colour bra and the bright yellow panties you wore. both looked perfect on your skin. and only made toto undress faster, he didn't want to keep mrs. wolff waiting.

he got his button-up onto the floor, and the undershirt. you rubbed your soft thighs together and he drank in the sight of you.

"a woman like you should be illegal. i'm worried if you get more beautiful, my love." he got onto the bed and took off the undershirt, "i'd have to lock you away."

he said it almost jokingly. he trusted you of course, it was other men that couldn't be trusted.

you giggled and took his belt off. the leather felt expensive in your hands. it soon was on the bed and toto quickly got undressed as well before he was on top of you. his hands on your panties before he showed them down your thighs.

"i'm going to breed you." he said softly, "i want to see you with my child. a proper mother." his nose was up against your jaw, he could feel your pulse as it quickened.

your core got hotter as you struggled to get your bra off. you replied, "then come on now, my dear husband." you took him by the face to meet your gaze, "let's make a baby."

he thought the wind was knocked out of him for a moment before he grabbed a hold of your bra and got it off your body, leaving you fully naked to him. he got on his knees with your legs wrapped around his waist.

a heated part of him wanted to fuck you the old fashioned way. on your back so he could admire every inch of your skin.

"but, i don't think it'll fit." you remarked with a slight giggle.

he replied with a smile, he looked handsome as always. "oh don't worry, schatzi. it'll fit." toto was a big man all over. big hands meant two things, one of those things was that his the tip of his cock was familiar with the beginning of your cervix.

and that he easily bruised your poor sweet hole.

but, since you two got married. it had been easier for him to fuck you, to sink inside of you. to feel you inside and out. but now with you under him, he slowly got his cock into you. one hand on your hip and one around his cock.

he got it all the way to the root and then had both hands on your soft hips. you were beautiful under him, your breath hitched and it made toto's cock twitched.

the beautiful, amazing mrs. toto wolff.

he started to move against you. his hands felt so large on your hips as he moved against you. he hunched over you to admire every inch of your heated skin. he could feel the praise bubble up in his throat.

no mechanic, no driver, no man was going to take you from him. he made a promise to love you for all of your days. and he was expecting for that to last for many years.

you held onto the covers under you and let him move your body back and forth. the stretch felt good. you remembered the days when you'd be bruised for a few days afterwards.

"i want you to have my children, schatzi." he said with a softness in his voice. the pleasure raced up his spine as he continued to move against you. you felt perfect to him, like a dream come true.

you moaned a little louder, in the comfort of your shared bedroom. husband and wife tangled up in one another. you placed your hands onto his chest as he continued to rut against you.

his cock hit all the right areas, it made you feel flushed at it all. it was a heated feeling throughout your body.

you tried to meet his pace, but everything felt so much. your heart was racing and you could feel it in your gut. you moaned a little louder, "please honey."

he continued to work your pussy, making sure that you felt good. how could he not want that? you were his wife. not that little mechanic's wife. you were his.

"i know, angel." he said softly, "i'll make you feel good." he leaned in to kiss you on the lips. such a delicate thing under his touch, he could feel the fire in his stomach as he moved against you.

the most perfect living thing. to have sex with you was a feeling that excited toto. to have you anyway he could. he pleasure you as much as you pleasured him.

you were his heart, the thing that kept it beating. to keep going, to keep winning.

you whimpers were cute, you were close. and toto continued to make love to you.

"toto."

"i have you, my love."

you clutched onto the covers under you. your back arched at the intensity as you came around his cock. you whined a little bit and tensed up. toto took this as a chance to pick up the pace and really work his dick into you. he came soon after and made sure to get himself in as deep as it would go.

he was trying to get his wife pregnant after all. a few hard thrusts and his cum drooled into the back of your womb. a good sign if all goes well. toto felt flushed, the sweat down his back as he eyed his beautiful wife.

no mechanic cane get too hands-y if there was a proper baby bump in the way. a sign that toto had staked claim of you as if the ring he bought you wasn't enough. plus, you'd make a beautiful mother.

he pulled out of you and curled up against your stomach. he rubbed soft circles and stayed close to you. he was breathing heavily as were you.

"my beautiful wife." he said as he kissed your stomach.

-

you were all smiles at the party toto threw months later as a way to socialize for the upcoming crew of mercedes. to start out on the right foot. a promise of a good season.

even now, six months pregnant with your first child. you were still all smiles and laughter. instead of a glass of wine, you had been pouring yourself sparkling water to still be part of the celebrations. the dress you wore highlighted your rounded middle.

but now that you were pregnant, toto had to keep a close eye on you. your center of gravity had been all screwed up since your belly sprouted. he didn't need his wife taking a tumble.

he easily caught the sight of you waving hello to the mechanic from last year and giving him a big hug. he also noticed that the mechanic's hand was a little to close to your behind for toto's liking.

if it wasn't glaringly obvious that you were taken already, give the ring, the house and now the baby. he knew he was going to have to talk to the other man before the season started.

toto didn't mind that you were the type of person who loved a good hub, it was who you were! but, it was toto's job as your husband to make sure that you remained safe. <3

[maidservant-hecubus]

My father is an Ashkenazi Jew. His parents were first generation Americans. Their parents escaped the pogroms in Russia and Ukraine and came to find their American dream. They fought in wars and opened businesses and assimilated and my generation barely has a few words of Yiddish between us. My mother is as much of a WASP as it gets. American Revolutionaries and Signers and some household name civil war feature players. Not old money, but old America and undoubtedly white. I'm patrilineal. Not a Jew to a lot of Jews. Not a Jew to a lot of my Jewish family. Even though i was raised Jewish. Even though I look like my father. Even though i got enough of something in my DNA to get asked "What are you?" more often than not. More often than I'm just accepted at face value as "white". When i was little we lived in an Irish Catholic neighborhood. Like the 5-10 kids in every family sort of Irish catholic neighborhood. The kids calling me a christ killer and refusing to play with me because they heard it from their parents sort of irish catholic neighborhood. For some reason my parents tried to send me to the catholic school down the street. I lasted less than a week because i didn't understand their rituals and their language and they found out my father was a Jew and they couldn't have a christ killer in their midst. I was just sad i didn't get to wear the cute plaid skirt anymore. So i went to the public school and my well meaning shiksa mother who never converted but learned the Chanukah prayers and helped cook Seder dinners came to the school to teach the class about Chanukah. She taught them songs and all the kids got dreidels and had so much fun spinning the top for chocolate coins. It was nice to feel normal. A few weeks later a boy in a higher grade attacked me on the way to the bus and smashed my art project (we had made pig noses from solo cups to celebrate reading charlotte's web) into my face and called me a filthy jew. I didn't understand, i was more upset to lose the project i was so proud of. Other things happened. Things I wont talk about because putting them in context would doxx me. But a million reminders that i wasn't one of them. I wasn't welcome because i was Jewish. My parents divorced. My mother left. Far away so I'd only see her a handful of times growing up. And I went to live with my Dad in a city that seemed like it was overflowing with Jews. Everyone knew my holidays! In public school the teachers looked like my family and had familiar sounding names. We had the high holy days off just like christmas or easter. We sang Chanukah songs in the winter recital and nobody's mom had to come teach them to the class. Finally I belonged! My friends and cousins started planning for their b mitzvah celebrations and i asked for my own. I asked to go to hebrew school so i could be more like the people i belonged with and celebrate the things i loved about myself and them. "But you're not jewish." My father would say. This was news to me. The christ killer. The filthy jew. But a 10 year old has little power over their lives. So i didn't go. I didn't have a bat mitzva while my cousins had theirs. It was okay because i still belonged more than i ever had. But i was still jewish enough to keep the holidays and pray and fast and get sent with a box of matzo to my WASP grandmothers for easter, and have matzo packed in my lunch to eat in AP algebra in 7th grade and get asked if I'm a "Yid" by the teacher. And still to this day not know if it was endearment or insult but by then I knew even in this magical city being a Jew wasn't always safe. in highschool I tried to take hebrew lessons with a friend in a similar situation as me. She was also hungry to reconnect. I don't remember why the classes or the friendship fell through, but they did. My next "friend", a goy raised catholic from another neighborhood, liked to accuse me of being money driven when i picked up a penny on the sidewalk or tried to ask who was going to pay for the zine's she wanted to publish.

 "What are you?" I'd get asked a lot on the street by curious strangers, "Where are you from?" "Are you Italian?" Always Italian. I never really understood that, but its become code in my head for "You look like you're white but something about you is very not white and I just can't place it, so Italian seems safe and polite." I'm not here to unpack the Italian part of all that. I don't even know what I'm unpacking for myself by writing this except I've been sick for days and I'm so tired and this is all that my foggy brain can wrap itself around. Later I'm an adult and on my own and getting bloodwork done. The Nurse is a black woman and so sweet to me. She can tell I'm nervous about the needles because I've already stumbled through my apologies for my herd to find veins. So she distracts me with small talk. Where do i live? I tell her. She looks worried for me. Tells me that it used to be a nice neighborhood before white people took it over and she warns me like she's my own mother to be careful because they aren't safe. I doublecheck the skin she's putting a needle into. Whatever she sees isn't white. I love her for it. For a moment I belong there with her. She doesn't ask what I am or where i'm from, but she knows what i'm not. I'm the only one keeping the holidays with my family. We celebrate Passover because I go home to my fathers and cook the dinner and print out the Haggadah and lead the Seder to the tune of my drunk catholic stepmother eating my food and telling me i'll never be a jew. She's more of a jew than I'll ever be because she grew up in a jewish neighborhood and her friends were all jews and she married a jew and i was just playing pretend. I stopped going home for holidays and they stopped observing anything except Christmas. I marry a goy. "Is he a jew?" is the first thing my father asks and he's disappointed when i say no. He's abusive, i run. I end up living in the attic of this older old money WASP couple who need a live in house sitter. They're pillars of their church and they know someone from the WASP side of my family very well and its a funny coincidence and they think i belong there. I know from their divest from Israel bumper stickers that i don't. Then they find out I consider myself Jewish and i see the light in their eyes die and its replaced by something hard and disappointed. Now, while writing this, i can laugh about being the jew in someone's attic. But then, it was only a few months after that they started coming up with excuses for why I needed to move out. I did, their excuses never manifested into reality. I got married again. A jew this time! a Jewish medical professional liek grandma always wanted. She's a convert and her ex was a rabbinical student. I think maybe i'm home finally. She has to understand. I'm not Jewish enough for her. We don't keep holidays at home because i'm not a jew. I cry every year when pesach comes and goes and i haven't recited the plagues or eaten matzo piled high with horseradish. She insists on putting up a christmas tree. She turns abusive. I run.

I'm alone now and no longer in that magic jewish city. I'm far away and surrounded by mega churches and cows and the bagels suck and people quote the bible at me like some call and response that i don't have the cheat code for and I don't belong here at all but i'm finally finally free to light my menorah and recite the plagues and study torah with the group i found here on tumblr who love and accept me even though i'm patrilineal. Oct. 7th happened a few weeks after I moved here. I worry about my family back home and i think no one will look for Jews here among the cows and mega churches, so I can be a safe place for them to run if things get bad again. But i still don't fit in here. I don't look right. The last name I have now is common here and too white for whatever people see when they look in my face. I get interrogated about it a lot. But i learned quickly how to smile and say "have a blessed day". I hide my menorah when maintenance comes to work on my apartment. I flew home last month. Just for a visit. I've never been away from home this far or this long. And I'm the type that covers nerves and anxiety with chattiness, so at the airport i made a for-now-friend while we both waited for the plane to board. She's Puerto Rican. We talk about our lives. Our families. Her twin sister and i go by the same nickname and so we're family now. We talk about food. So much food and how much we love cooking and how important food was at home. "Are you Italian?" she asks as we're stepping through the hatch into the plane. Why always Italian? I wonder for the millionth time in my life. And I freeze up for a moment between fighting my carry-on over the gap and terror that I'm about to see the light go out behind her eyes and i'll lose this for-now friend. "No," i laugh but its not a real laugh and i see the concern in her face as we squeeze through the aisle because she can hear the apprehension in my voice, "I'm Jewish." And something strange happened because her face lit up and she smiled and said "No way?! You guys have GREAT food!"

[hoshigray]

random thought, but like Gojo getting a little handsy while the two of you are out together with your friends.

a/n: yeahhhhh I have no excuse, this literally just popped up in my head two days ago, just read lol

cw: Gojo x fem! reader - nothing too sexual, but very suggestive, so minors stay away!! - fingering (f! receiving) - sexual acts in a public area; in a café - other people present but they don't know what's going on - pet names (angel, baby, princess) - Gojo putting you through hell but you get your getback :3 - you may [or may not] feel second-hand embarrassment, we shall see.

wc: 1k

"...Then I turned to him and said, 'I know you don't think I'm going to have sex with you after you've done thrown up on my dress.'"

"Nooo, after the dress was how much—"

"Right!! So I nicely shoved him off me and called an Uber to..."

It was a pleasant sunny hour to spend with your friends at a local café not too far away, mingling and catching up with them from the last meetup. It was always a splendid time having moments like this with them.

But what made this time a lot more striking was you bringing your boyfriend over! After many weeks of your friends wanting to meet the guy — not to mention him bugging you about also wanting to see your close buds — you promised to have him tag along for the next in-person meetup. And, low and behold, your partner, Satoru Gojo, wasted no time having your mates attracted to his sociable charisma.

Not that you'd think he'd be out of place — if anything, you knew he'd be able to swoon into their sweet graces. With his dashing smile, alluring sky-blue eyes, and engaging conversations, it was only a matter of seconds before the white-haired man could take your spot and engage with your pals. Shit, it's practically happening right now as you sip on your iced tea while he's listening to one of them reminiscing about a terrible night they had last night.

Nevertheless, you're not complaining. A boyfriend who gets along with your friends is better than not, right? That's why you watch and listen to your friend's story with a smile, happy to know that combining two parts of your world results in new companionships.

That is, until, you feel someone's hand land on your thigh. At first, you paid no mind to the action since it's nothing you're not familiar with when it comes to Gojo. But then that exact hand ventures further down and slowly sneaks past your skirt. Your brows furrow with your inner thoughts. I know this man is not trying to start something right now...And when you feel his slender fingers brush your inner thigh, you get your answer.

Your lips release the straw to your iced beverage, and you slowly lean toward your boyfriend. "Gojo," your tone hushed only for him to hear as your companions seemed preoccupied with a talk of their own.

"Hmm?" The tall other leans a bit for his ears to properly hear your whispers, his face still facing front to your friends.

"Can I ask why your hand is up my skirt in public?" You knew by the playful snicker rumbling his chest that his answer would be far from appropriate for the situation.

"Whaaat~, can't touch the love of my life?" He whispers back to you.

"Can't if we're out in the open at a fricken' café," you hiss with a glare from your peripheral. "Especially with others within—Hmmm." Before you could finish that remark, two fingers brushed on your panties, rubbing gently between your clothed folds. He snickers — both at your stifled response and as a faux reaction to a part of your friend's storytelling.

"Sorry, but I can't help myself when I wanna touch my princess." You notice him peeking at you from behind his dark shades. His fingers form a curling motion, causing your body to slightly jerk and prompt your legs to a further spread. He brings his chin down to your ears, his chuckles easier to interpret their mischievous connotation. "Plus, when did I last see you wear that skirt? Had my eyes on it since you looked at the mirror before we left."

God, I hate his ass so fucking much. "Who said I was wearing it for you?" You retort, wanting nothing but to wipe that dumb smirk off his handsome face. "I wore it because of—Ohhh!!" To your surprise, he swiftly puts his digits inside your panties; the sudden warm contact on the folds of your chasm prompts a sneaky cry.

...A cry so sudden that, of course, your friends stop talking to look in your direction with perplexed expressions. Of course, they would look. Oh, for fuck's sake...

"Uhhh, you okay, Y/n?" One friend blinks while surveying your body language. The other chimes in. "Yeah, you don't look so good; ice tea went the wrong way?"

Quick with your feet, you cough up your answer. "Ahem—Y-Yeah, I'm fine, guys. I was just thinking, ya know," your hand snakes down to Gojo's to pinch the skin, the tall other jolting his hand away from you. And you know he looks to you with pain, yet serves him right. "Since you two are getting along with Gojo, why don't we take him to the mall and show him our favorite spots? He has a good eye on clothes, plus I'm sure he'd like to try the crepe stand in the food court."

The look on your buddies' faces expressed nothing but delight at the idea you pulled out your ass. "That's a great plan, I'm down!" One says while the other nods frantically. "You up for that, Gojo?"

Rubbing his pinched skin, Gojo sends the two a smile. "Sure! I'd love to spend more time with my baby and their friends." He then leans to kiss you, but with a kick to the shin, you turned his face from a lovestruck fool to that of a hurt puppy. Your friends watch as the snow-haired man quivers and puts his forehead on your shoulder for support.

"Hmm? What happened?"

"Don't mind him; he was rocking his chair and probably hit himself with one of the legs." You speak for him as you watch your boyfriend tremble in pain with a smirk on your lips, the two others giggling at your seemingly clumsy man. It's your turn now to whisper to his ear. "That's for that little stunt of yours."

Gojo's laughter seethes through gritted teeth. "Are you really my angel? You're such a meanie...Don't think I won't do it again, princess."

[ange1heavensent]

Walk You Home

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

Pairing: college!Abby x fem!reader

Content Warning: vomiting

w/c: ≈ 1800

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

The air was stuffy as you walked through the living room, which was now transformed into a dance floor. People were bumping into you, but it did not matter, all you needed was to pee, which was not surprising after the amount of drinks, shots and sips from other peoples beer you’ve consumed. It was your third, maybe fourth?, trip to the bathroom, but this time your friend did not accompany you, because of some conversation with a guy, who was speaking alarmingly close to her face. As you trudged to the sea of people, you found your light at the end of the tunnel, the bathroom door. Luckily or, unluckily, for you there was only one person standing in line in front of the bathroom door.  

-

Abby breathed out a sigh as she stood leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom door, she had stood there for what felt like an eternity, for what was supposed to be a quick trip to the bathroom before leaving the house party. The fucker that was taking their sweet time on the toilet was going to get an earful, for making her stay in what she would call hell on earth for even a second longer. She wasn’t the biggest fan of house parties, the reason being the people, drunk frat guys and sorority girls slobbering on each other in every corner, people half passed out on the couch, way too early into the night and people not being able to behave in general. She much more preferred sitting with her friends around a table at a bar, rather than screaming in each other's ears over awful music.  

As she was leaning her head against the wall behind her, contemplating walking out, lose her last ounce of dignity and just pee behind the nearest bush. She felt someone grab on to her hands. She looked at you, a little bewildered, before you slurred out, “Hi, I'm so sorry, but can I please go to the toilet before you, please” You squeezed her hands to accentuate the urgency. Abby looked into your pleading eyes and released a sigh, she would be an asshole to say no to you, but she did herself also need to pee. You saw the reluctance on her face and added “I really really need to go to the toilet, I am going piss myself any second, please.” You said this with a chuckle, because of the absurdity of the situation, practically begging some stranger to let you cut in line to the toilet. Abby herself let out a chuckle and noticed that you hadn’t let go of her hands, she sighed out an “okay” you gave her hands another squeeze, smiled big and said a “thank you” in return. 

Abby didn’t know why she had said yes, however if she were to be honest, it was because you looked so goddamn beautiful, your eyes, your smile and especially how good you looked in that little black dress you were wearing. She was already missing your soft hands in hers, as you released your grip, turned around and walked, more like stumbled, to the bathroom door and knocking your fist on it. You yelled out a “Can you please hurry up!” before retreating to stand in front of the opposite wall facing Abby, with your arms crossed over your chest, mimicking Abby’s stance. 

You looked at her smiling and couldn’t help but to blush, Abby noticed and smiled back at you. If the situation wasn’t dire, you would have tried to flirt with her, start to compliment her outfit, then her hair, her eyes and of course her muscles. But now all you could do was focus on not peeing yourself in front of her. The flirting could wait. 

-

Abby saw your demeanour change from giving her flirty glances and smiles to a serious expression, eyebrows knitting together and heavy breathing. “What’s wrong?” she asked, you muttered “I think I’m gonna throw up.” Abby sprung into action, making her way across the small hallway, her fist knocking hard against the wood, from your perspective it looked like she was going to punch a hole through the door. She yelled “Hey, you better come out, someone needs to throw up” and continued her banging on the door. It only took seconds before the door unlocked and a couple clumsily walking out of it. You sprinted to the toilet, got down on your knees, and vomited into the toilet bowl. Abby was immediately behind you, after closing and locking the door, and grabbed your hair and held it. After a couple of minutes, you laid your head on your arm against the toilet seat. Abby stroked your back, which she had done through all of it, and asked softly “Are you okay?” with a weak “yeah” you answered her. Abby helped you to stand up, you walked to the sink to rinse your mouth as she flushed the toilet. 

“Is it alright if I pee?” Abby said, making sure that you're okay with her going first. “Yes, of course,” you said while trying to remove the mascara smudges under your eyes and Abby was a little surprised that you didn’t leave the bathroom. When Abby was finished, flushed the toilet and took a stand beside you to wash her hands, you yourself went to relieve your bladder. “Do you want me to get you an Uber or something?” Abby asked you when you were sitting on the toilet, she of course didn’t look in your direction. “No, I don’t want to risk throwing up in someone's car,” you answered. “Do you live far away from here?” Abby asked, “kinda” you answered, “How long of a walk?” “45 minutes maybe” you answered her. You were now by the sink washing your hands, with Abby standing beside you. “Let me walk you home then.” Abby said with a smile. “You don’t have to do that,” you told her, but she retaliated with “How will you get home then?” You just shrugged your shoulders, she continued with “I really don't mind, I promise. I just want to make sure you’re getting home safe.” “You sure you don't mind?” you questioned, “I am sure” Abby said with a smile. 

- 

The two of you now stood outside of the house, after retrieving your jackets from a small bedroom where they laid in a pile on the bed, and then having to elbow your way out of the house. You had just sent a text to your friend saying that you were going home and were now typing in your address into Abby’s phone. When you were done Abby looked at her phone and then started walking the route that her phone told her to go. You had your arm wrapped around her bicep for stability, no other reason. The two of you had made it a couple of metres before you looked at her and said “You're walking me home, but I don’t even know your name” Abby chuckled, when she realised that in all of the chaos of the night the two of you hadn’t mentioned your names. Abby put away her phone and reached out with her right hand inviting you to shake her hand, “I’m Abby, nice to meet you” she said with a smile, you giggled at her antics finding her very cute at the moment, before you released your grip on her bicep and shook her hand “It’s very nice to meet you Abby, I’m Y/n.” You mirrored the smile on her face, which you couldn’t get rid of even if you tried to. 

For the rest of your 45 minute walk you and Abby talked about anything that came up in your inebriated mind. First the basics, like what the two of you were studying, your respective future careers, hobbies and what not. Abby was just enabling your continued drunken thoughts and questions about her. She found you quite amusing in the way you rambled about different topics. She also found you charming in the way you manage to slip in some flirty remarks about her, while still slurring on your words. As the walk continued however, your words became more clear and you regained your balance and towards the end of it you started to feel fine, having sobered up in the cool air of the night. 

At the end of your route, the two of you stood outside the entrance to your dorm building. Either of you wanting the night to end. You went to hug Abby, which she reciprocated opening up her big arms which you then became enveloped in, while in the hug you asked her “How are you getting yourself home, Abby?” “I’ll just get an Uber,” she answered. You nodded at her as you stepped out of the hug, holding onto her hands, the two of you in the same position which you had started the night. “You could come up to my room, while waiting for it,” you suggested, while lightly swinging her hands and gleaming at her. She let out a chuckle, but her facial expression turned sincere, she softly said “I don't think that's a good idea.” You took a small step back. “Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed you were-” you started, but she cut you off, “It’s not that I don’t want to, I just don’t think we should, given the state you're in,” she said genuinely. 

You gave her a smile, and went in for a second hug, which she again reciprocated, you again spoke in the hug “Let me give you my number, so I can make sure you get home safe.” Abby looked at you and plastered on your face was a smirk. “Of course,” she answered, handing over her phone, she wasn’t going to let something like this just pass her by. When you were finished typing your phone number into her phone, you handed it back and said “I’ll see you around then.” Before walking off, you pressed a kiss onto Abby’s cheek and then all she saw was the back of you making your way to the door. She quickly saved your number as a contact, before turning back to look at you. You were now turned towards her at the entrance door and you gave her a little wave, she waved back and you stepped through the door and let it close behind you. Abby smiled to herself when she booked the Uber.

- 

When you woke up the next morning with a dry mouth and a headache, you tapped the screen of your phone and saw a new text message.

+1 (564) 000-0000

Made it home safe :) Let’s grab a coffee sometime - Abby

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

Thank you for reading! If you liked this fic, check out my masterlist for more :)

[artsy-waffle19]

They literally put Edwin through every possible gay-romance trope but made it realistic and that's so special to me like

we got the "probably former friend can't handle feelings and turns into bully instead" but it doesn't end with them, making up and being happy, they break apart, things escalate and they both suffer from that situation for a major part of their existence. With a bit of luck and a LOT of growing they manage to talk it out and the victim finds it in himself to forgive his bully but it's never going to be truly fine. But even though they both suffer tremendously, they are faced to deal with themselves in the process and find a kind of peace they wouldn't have gotten otherwise. Because maybe it's better to hurt for a long time only to realise that it really doesn't have to be torture to be the way you are and finally freeing yourself entirely than quietly live without the conflict but also without the realisation and resenting yourself for its entirety.

then there's the situation with the cat king. Older, emotionally unstable guy obsesses over younger inexperienced guy who actually understands him and causes some sort of gay awakening. But instead of some "I can fix him" bullshit with them, ending up happily ever after because "they're the only ones who understand each other"TM we get to see Edwin set boundaries and standing up for himself which benefits the both of them. For Edwin this ends in going "Hey thank you for opening that door to discovering that part of myself but I'm actually gonna have to leave you at the doorstep now" and for the cat king it ends up with him actually feeling seen because for once somebody didn't fall for his probably usual game of "I'm bored so I'm going to make a game of getting that guy to do what i want by seducing him". The fact that they don't end up together is the reason they were good for each other.

Also the situation with Monty which is basically the experience of a lot of queer peoples first relationship. They meet and they're both somehow new to all of this. Being queer, relationships, all that stuff. And they get along and share some interests, they like soending time with each other and technically it's like in a romance book because they meet and one of them is immediately interested and then they talk and they sit on a swingset and they kiss. And there's the excitement about "apparently I'm making my first experience with romance right now" and the worry of "I'm queer...I have it harder with relationships...what if this is the best option i have? what if it's the only one?" so they go through all the romance book tropes but the spark simply isn't there and it ends in one of them getting way more invested tha the other and they eventually end up breaking up in blood. But in a way both of them got an idea about what they actually want in life out of it so even if that sone didn't end well, it did give them something.

And last but not least the "in love with best friend who likes someone else/someone of the opposite gender specifically" but instead of having that best friend be secretly in love with the character all along or suddenly turn homophobic and the friendship being ruined they talk about it and they move on and the friendship isn't damaged and in a way it might even be better because sometimes our feelings are unrequited and sometimes that's okay.

I just really really love how the show took all of those options for cheesy and in a way sometimes even forced romance tropes and went "hey, life is not a romance novel but actually that kind of makes it better because look where it got you now"

[melrodrigo]

Tardy - T.C.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None??

Summary: You come late to a class one day, and an unexpected friendship, (and maybe more) blossoms.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Woo! This was a long one to write, and i'm not sure if i added enough fluff in there, but if you guys want a part two, i'm happy to write more :)

You had been pining over this girl for six months. At first it was all fun and games, just some motivation to get up and into class each morning. But soon with every nice gesture and soft smile she sent your way, it turned into something more.

Tara Carpenter.

She was the prettiest girl you've ever laid your eyes on, with wide doe eyes and freckles littered everywhere across her face. You'd noticed her one particular day when you had realized you overslept, rushed into class, in nothing but your jamies and an oversize hoodie.

When you opened the doors, a little loud, okay maybe a lot loud, everyone's heads snapped to you. You stilled, acutely aware of everyone’s eyes on you.

A small giggle sounded through the room, and you locked eyes with a short-looking brunette.

Feeling embarrassed enough to last a lifetime, you quickly hurried over and sat next to the girl, a blush rising up your neck at everyone still staring.

"As I was saying..." The professor began, to which most people took their eyes off you and focused back on the lesson. You breathed out a sigh.

"That was quite an entrance, if I do say so myself." A voice sounded beside you.

When you turned your head to look at her, the comeback you had so cleverly thought up died in your throat.

"I- um, hi! Yeah, it was a crazy day, see- I just went to a party last night and I might've gotten crazy drunk and then forgot to set my alarm and woke up and realized we had a test today, so I really wasn't thinking about my outfit, but-" You stopped when you realized you'd been rambling, the blush rising to the tip of your ears now, though for a totally different reason.

The girl cocked an eyebrow up and gave a tiny smirk.

"Sorry, my name's YN. I'm not usually this stupid." You offered her a handshake, head turned down in embarrassment.

"A handshake?" She asked a little teasingly, but took your hand nevertheless.

Deciding you'd already embarrassed yourself enough for one day, you turned back to the teacher, determined not to act stupid in front of this pretty girl.

"Tara." She mumbled after a while, but loud enough for you to hear.

"I'm sorry?"

She turned to you and tilted her head a bit, like staring hard enough would allow her to read your mind.

"My name's Tara." She said, giving you another soft smile.

You felt your lips start to tug upwards at the ends, and a giddy feeling, like butterflies entered your stomach.

"Pleased to meet you, Tara."

_

The both of you never talked about the routine you got into, but ever since that first day, when you walked into class and scanned the room, you would always look for Tara first.

She would always leave a seat beside her for you, death glaring anyone that tried to sit in it.

It was a comfortable situation, and you were content in being in her company, even though it was only for a few hours.

You’d bring her and yourself some coffee, quickly remembering what her go-to order was.

Sometimes you guys would study together in the library, throwing flirty comments and looking at each other longer than friends should.

You couldn’t help but get distracted sometimes in class, what with such a gorgeous girl next to you, how could you not?

Unbeknownst to you, Tara would also sneak some peeks in, but she was a lot more discreet about it. You never caught her staring once.

-

But on one random Tuesday morning, she wasn't there. It was weird of Tara to not be there before you, since you were always late, but you shrugged it off and figured she might've gotten lost on the way to class. She would never miss a class in her life. You brushed the nagging feeling in your chest away.

Halfway through the lesson, the nagging feeling turned into outright worry. Tara would never miss a class without an important reason, and if she did, she would have at least texted you about it. The two of you had grown pretty close in the last semester.

y/n: Hey, are you okay?

She never answered.

As soon as the class ended, you sprinted outside and started running.

Finding the way to Tara's apartment was a bit challenging, seeing as though you'd never been there before. But Tara had given the address to you once, during a frat party you attended together.

You swayed on the heels of your feet anxiously, hoping Tara was home and not out somewhere dangerous. You had heard news of a new killer around, though you didn't pay it much attention. You certainly didn't want Tara to be one of his victims though.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A girl you'd never seen before opens the door, expression clearly annoyed. She looked a bit like Tara, but her demeanor was all dark and gloomy, completely unlike Tara.

"Um...is Tara home?" You mumbled, starting to feel small under her intense gaze.

"And who the hell are you? " She asked, eyebrows furrowed, arms crossed in front of her chest.

"YN?" Came a voice from inside, and you immediately recognized it as Tara's.

The girl at the door was pushed aside gently, and you looked down to see Tara, a curious expression painting her face.

"Ohmygod i'm so glad your okay. I was so worried I thought that psycho killer might've gotten you." You mumbled as you pulled her in for a tight embrace, her face nuzzling in the side of your neck. A small giggle erupted from the girl, and she held you a little tighter.

You stayed like that for a while, until someone loudly cleared their throat beside you.

You pulled away quickly, forgetting that there were other people present, and straightened up, raising your hand to the girl who greeted you at the door.

“Sam? Is everything okay?” Came a male voice from inside the apartment.

“Yeah, we’re good Chad!” She shouted back, still eyeing you like you were scum on earth.

You took a breath and stepped forward, raising your hand and meeting her eye.

"Hi. I'm YN." She eyed your hand, arms still crossed and very much still looking furious.

"A handshake?" She shot Tara a look, expressing something like a "really? this is the one you pick?"

"Yeah i'm sorry if i'm intruding, I just wanted to make sure Tara was okay since she didn't come to class today." You explained.

The older girl was fast to snap back, "You are, and you've seen her, so you should leave now."

"Sam!" Tara exclaimed, taking a hold of your wrist to prevent you from leaving.

"It's okay Tara, I don't mind. As long as I know you’re okay, then I’m good." You whispered, making sure she looked you in the eye to express how serious you were.

Her eyes softened a little, before turning to Sam and speaking slowly.

"He must've saw her come up. We can't let her go. She might get attacked."

You furrowed your eyebrows, starting to get confused about what they were talking about.

Sam must've saw the look in Tara's eyes, because she rebuffed her immediately, glaring at you as she said, "Absolutely not. I know nothing about her, you know nothing about her. For all we know, she's the killer!"

At that you step in.

"Woah, woah woah. I just gotta defend myself here and say I don't know what you're talking about right now, but I am most definitely not a killer." You winked at the older girl, trying to keep the mood light.

Oh shit. That sounds exactly like something a killer would say.

"I mean-! I'm just Tara's friend, I wanted to make sure she was okay. She never misses class so I came to check on her." You hurried out, seeing the look of suspicion growing on Sam's face.

"Please, Sam. How many innocent people are you gonna let die? And if she is the killer, then we'll have her right here with us! We'll keep an eye on her." Tara pleaded, though her tone was more pressed than anything.

Sam let out a scoff, and walked away, further into their apartment.

You’re left standing in the hallway corridor, not really sure what just happened.

"I guess that's a yes." Tara sing-songed and smiled at you, pulling you in and closing the door and giving you a peck on the cheek.

Your eyes widened and you tried your best not to gulp, but by the way Tara's smile turned even bigger, you know you failed.

"Come on, let's go meet the others." She tugged on your wrist, which she was still keeping a death grip on. Effectively dragging you forward to the living room.

You snap out of your daze and start to follow her, but not before asking a question you should’ve asked about five minutes before.

"What's this about me being a killer again?"

[writerslittlelibrary]

So, I'm not a prisoner?

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 extra

summary: you did not expect that your mission to take down the traitor, could end in such a difficult situation for you…

pairing: Natasha x Red Room teen reader

warnings: fighting, weapons, stabbing, blood, implied sexual abuse

genre: fluff, angst

words: 3073

a/n: I wanted to do a fic like this for so long!!!! anyway, I just kept scouting tumblr trying to find fics like this, so I figured I’d finally write one myself :)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

 |——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

A quick in and out. That was your mission. How on earth did you manage to screw it up so bad. In and out. Assassinate the traitor and come right back. 

Dreykov would’ve been so proud. 

But that didn’t happen. No. Every single aspect about that night failed to go according to plan. You snuck into the event Stark had hosted, was able to blend in with the other party goers, and you were able to hide when most of the people started to leave. 

Once it was just the Avengers left, you stayed in your hiding spot, observing them. You were here to kill Natasha Romanoff, and Natasha Romanoff only. 

You could not afford any casualties, so you had it all planned out. 

You’d wait until the Avengers would leave, and you’d take Natasha out before she could make it to her living quarters. You knew that once she made it to the living space of the Avengers tower, getting to her would be a lot harder. 

However, against all odds, Natasha excused herself from the group quite early, saying she wanted to get a good nights sleep. 

You internally cursed yourself, hating that this wasn’t something that you had planned for. 

Around the couches were still some Avengers sat. You recognised all of them. Clint Barton shouldn’t be too much trouble. He was only a guy who’s good with a bow. For Maria Hill could be said the same thing, except she’s very skilled with a gun.

No, you were worried about the other Avengers still seated. Tony Stark could call upon his armour in mere seconds. Thor had the power of thunder for god’s sake. Wanda Maximoff has exceptional powers, and therefor, if you were to attack with her still in the room, you’d be immobilised in an instant. 

You were fairly certain you didn’t need to worry much about Bruce Banner. Sure, he could turn into the Hulk, but he didn’t turn often, and lately, the Hulk hasn’t been spotted in the battlefield, meaning he probably had many trouble turning into him. 

Pietro Maximoff shouldn’t bring you a lot of trouble either. 

Your main concern were Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. One Super Soldier you could handle, but two? While fighting the rest of the Avengers? That wasn’t going to work. 

Lucky for you, Wanda Maximoff had excused herself from the gathering a while ago. If you didn’t make to much noise, she wouldn’t be much of a problem. You could be outside before she’d even make it to the party deck. 

Your original plan was to just wait. Natasha Romanoff would have usually sat through a party until far into the evening. You’d know, you’ve been watching her for weeks. 

However, now that Romanoff has announced she was returning to her bedroom, a slight panic ran through your body. 

Dreykov gave your 5 weeks to finish this assignment. That’s longer than any assignment you’d ever been on. You could not disappoint him with this. You had to kill the traitor. 

You figured now was your only chance, and so, as Natasha Romanoff made her way towards the elevator, you followed her. 

However, not even to your surprise, she stopped in the middle of the hallway. 

“You know I’m an assassin, too? You’re good, but you’re not un noticeable,” she states, calmly turning around, being met with a gun to your face. The moment she stopped, you were wise enough to draw your gun, holding her at gunpoint for any sudden movements. 

You could see a slight surprise appear on her face, before her face returned to her poker face once again. 

“You’re just a child…” Natasha spoke slowly, seeming almost disappointed. 

“You’re a traitor,” you spoke, loading the gun, taking a step closer. Natasha simply shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she spoke, before leaping towards you. You shot your gun, but Natasha was too fast, avoiding your gunfire as she ran past you, back to the other Avengers. 

How on earth could you have missed that shot? She was right there.

Pathetic. 

You don’t hesitate to run after her, determined to finish this tonight. 

Very much not to your surprise, the moment you run back into the party hall, the Avengers are already standing up and ready. Ready to fight you.

You don’t hesitate to move forwards, and after fighting Clint Barton for mere seconds, you quickly realise they have no intention of hurting you. You could use that to your advantage, and you do.

You kick Barton hard, leaving him on the floor, heaving for air as you move forward, taking on Maria. 

However, the moment you get close to Maria, two strong arms wrap around your body, pulling you back. They’re holding you tightly, and it doesn’t feel like they’re planning to let go. 

You struggle in the hold, fighting against who ever is holding you as you try to break free. A small panic runs through your body. The fear of being captured by the Avengers taking place in your mind. You do not fear the Avengers, but the thought of being seen as a traitor by Dreykov hurts your heart more than words could describe. 

“Stop struggling. We can help you,” you hear a voice behind you speak, and you soon come to realise the person you’re fighting is Captain America himself. 

No wonder you couldn’t get loose. 

Knowing it’s a Super Soldier, you’re quick to outsmart him, making him think you’re getting tired, relaxing your body is his hold. Because of this, the Captain lightens his grip a bit, giving you enough room to wiggle your arm free, moving it backwards to hit him in the face with your elbow. 

Because of the surprise, he lets you go, allowing you to stand again. 

The moment your feet hit the ground, you dash forward, holding up your knife as you use everyone’s shock to your advantage. 

Everyone is surprised by your capability of escaping Steve’s grasp, not realising your already moving towards Natasha again. You reach her quickly, stabbing your knife into her stomach as far as it can go. 

Natasha gasps, and you pull the knife out, watching as all the blood starts to seep from her stomach. 

Slowly, Natasha sinks to the ground, Maria catching her, helping her down. 

You move towards Natasha again, determined to get the job finished, but are quickly stopped by another pair of arms wrapping around your waist. You immediately recognise the metal arm, knowing that the Winter Soldier holds you in his grasp. You can’t escape him. You never have. 

He pulls you backwards, pushing you to the ground as he tries to punch you. However, you regain yourself quickly, rolling away from under him and kicking him in the face. 

Suddenly, you’re moved across the room. You forgot the damn speedster…

You raise your knife quickly, stabbing him before he has a chance to make another move. 

“PIETRO!” you hear a voice yell, and you turn your head to the right. Shit. Wanda Maximoff must have heard the commotion and went down to take a look. You have to get out of there. You will never win a fight with her.

You move quickly, running towards the stairs. However, before you could reach them, you felt a stabbing pain in your left shoulder, the sound of a gun shot following soon after. You had been shot. Bucky Barnes had shot you in an attempt to slow you down. 

But you didn’t let it. 

Instead, you went towards the stairs a little quicker, dashing down the hundreds of flights of stairs to get to the main floor. 

Of course, all SHIELD agents on the main floor were already expecting you, and you were followed by Steve Rogers, but you were quicker than him. You knew that. 

You dashed past all the SHIELD agents, avoiding their gun fire as you made it towards an emergency exit. 

The moment you stepped outside, you started your escape route. You already planned it, knowing exactly which way to go, no matter which way you would exit. 

Steve followed you outside, but the moment he set foot outside the door, you were gone. You had disappeared into the night, leaving no trace. 

------------------------------------------------------------- 

Back in the Avengers tower, the team was recovering from your attack. Natasha was in bad shape. Your strike had been an attempt to murder her, and you didn’t miss any organs as you pierced your blade through her abdomen. 

Pietro was much better. He was back on his feet quickly, seeing as though you stabbing him hadn’t been a murder attempt. You merely wanted to distract him. 

It didn’t take long for Natasha to get back on her feet either, even though she was advised to stay on bed rest after the surgery. 

Natasha was determined to find you, and she quickly got to work. 

Even though you had made it out of the Avengers tower quickly, you were still hurt, and some of you blood had fallen on the floor as you made your escape towards the stairs. Clint and Maria had collected that blood, running multiple tests, only to find out you were not registered anywhere. 

There was no record of your existence. Were you just another ghost story?

What they did find were traces of the Super Soldier serum. However, they were modified, almost as if they were genetically a part of your system. 

Did that mean you were just another Hydra experiment? Natasha did hear you calling her a traitor. That had to mean you knew Dreykov, right? Who else viewed her as a traitor. I would make sense. Sending a modified teenage assassin after her, knowing Natasha was above killing children. 

Even in the Red Room, she always hesitated when sparring against the younger students. 

Dreykov must have had a lot of faith in you to send you after her. Natasha can only hope you’re not a graduate yet…

-------------------------------------------------------------

After the incident in the Avengers tower, you had fled to Germany. You figured it was best to leave the United States completely. And why would they ever search for you in Germany? 

You had rented an apartment, loving the small town you had chosen. Dreykov had given you 5 weeks to finish the assignment, and now, you had only 1 week left. There is now way that you’re going to succeed in killing Natasha within the week. 

They know you are after her now, and they will be prepared for you to make a return. You screwed it up.

Sloppy. 

Right now, you were just heading back to your apartment. You had taken a walk, deciding to make the most out of the freedom you had in the moment. The week would be over soon, and the moment Dreykov would send for your return you are certain you will not be seeing daylight any time soon. 

After you arrived in the apartment building, you instantly felt watched. 

Had the Avengers found you?

You made your way up to your apartment, pushing the key into the lock and walking through the small hallway. Someone was in here, you could feel it. 

You walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water, keeping your back towards the living room. 

“There are not a lot of places to hide in this apartment,” you spoke aloud into the emptiness of the apartment. Soon you heard a set of footsteps, and you felt another presence enter the room. 

“You’re very skilled for your age,” you heard a voice behind you say, and you immediately recognised it as Natasha’s. 

“And you are stronger than you look. I mean, even for you, I didn’t expect you to be on your feet so quickly,” you stated, turning around slowly. Natasha wasn’t holding a weapon in your face, something you were definitely expecting. 

You scanned her quickly, seeing the weapons she held on her belt. 

She didn’t come unarmed. Good. She’d be stupid to. 

“I don’t mean you any harm,” Natasha said, taking a small step forward as she held her hands in the air, showing you her every movement. 

You didn’t look impressed, instead just staring at her as she moved. 

“Then you are a fool,” you told her, and you spotted a small smirk flashing over Natasha’s face. “And you are very full of yourself,” she said, moving towards the kitchen island, leaning on it. 

“I can’t say I blame you. You took on a lot of the Avengers on your own. Even two Super Soldiers. That’s impressive,” she stated, giving you a small smile. You didn’t return it. 

“What? Jealous someone better took your place when you betrayed us,” you asked Natasha, determined to get on her nerves.

Natasha’s smile dropped quickly. 

“Quite the opposite, actually. I hoped no one would ever have to go through it again,” she told you, a hint of regret almost identifiable in her expression. Now it was your time to give her a small smile. 

“You think you’re so important that everything should’ve ended with you?” you asked her, moving towards the kitchen island as well, setting your glass down, still holding onto it. 

Natasha shook her head.

“What I am curious about, however, is the genetic Super Soldier serum that runs through your DNA,” Natasha paused, adjusting her stance before speaking again. “Tell me, was your dad a Super Soldier?” 

You let out a huff of amusement, surprising Natasha. 

“You think I believe you’re just here for a conversation? There are SHIELD agents placed on every corner of every street. Don’t think I didn’t notice it. The lovely young couple, drinking coffee at the restaurant downstairs? Amazing disguise, if you were trying to trick nine year olds,” you stated, finishing your glass of water. 

Natasha smiles, clearly impressed with your observations. 

“You’re right. I’m not here for just a conversation, although I do hope we can prevent violence,” Natasha started, but before she could continue you interrupted her. 

“You’re here to bring me in.” 

Natasha nodded, and the look on her face was almost apologetic. 

“No one needs to get hurt. If you just come with me, there’s a big chance you could avoid confinement,” Natasha explained, yet you just scoffed and shook your head. 

“Avoid confinement? Yeah right. There is no way, that after what I have done, your people won’t lock me away.” 

“I can be very persuasive,” Natasha simply replied. 

There was a small silence. Natasha knew you were debating your options. You didn’t seem like a brainwashed sheep. She knew that you knew better than trusting Dreykov’s lies. Sure, you still believed she was a traitor, but there is no way that you didn’t see that what Dreykov is doing is wrong. 

“You know going back after a failed mission will result in punishment,” Natasha started, trying to get through to you. Trying to give you that little push you needed to go with her. “If you go with me, you’ll never be punished like that ever again,” she finished. 

You looked up, deep in thought.

“How could you be so sure?” you asked her, and Natasha didn’t hesitate to respond. 

“We can keep you safe-”

“I found you. I nearly killed you. Who’s to say some other Widow won’t come after me as well?” you replied, and Natasha gave you another small smile. 

“I escaped the Red Room when I was 20,” Natasha started. “It took him 12 years to send someone after me. We will make sure we’ll take him down before he even has the chance to come after you.” 

“How many times, did you try to kill him, exactly? Because I believe you attempted his murder twice already, both of which you failed. You blew him up in Budapest, and then another time when you took the air facility down. Do you honestly think you’ll succeed now?”

Natasha shook her head, seemingly recollecting her thoughts. 

“I failed twice, and that was sloppy, but both times I didn’t have the Avengers on my side. You ran the moment you saw Wanda. You know what she is capable of. Taking down the Red Room for good shouldn’t be too difficult with the Avengers on our side,” Natasha explained, yet you just shook your head. 

“I’m not like you,” you told her, yet Natasha just looked at you in confusion. 

“I’m not some disposable widow like you were. I’m more important,” you explained, and Natasha gave you a sad smile.

“Everyone is just a disposable widow to him,” she started, but you interrupted her. 

“I’m not. You tested my blood. You know I carry the Super Soldier serum. I’m not just some girl he picked up from the streets,” you explained, and Natasha gave you a small nod, encouraging to keep going. 

“I can’t explain it, but he won’t just let me walk. He put too much time in my creation. He would never just let it go to waste,” you finished, looking down, avoiding Natasha’s gaze as you turned around, putting your glass by the sink. 

“We’ll help you. I know that we can,” Natasha tried. 

“Is it worth the risk? My life is not great, but it’s not terrible either. Dreykov values me, and I am not treated like a piece of meat, unlike you might suspect.” 

“So the punishment is worth it, then? Knowing that in three days time, Dreykov will have you be recollected, and once you return to the Red Room, you’ll be punished severely for a failed mission,” Natasha paused, allowing you to let her words sink in. 

“Or, in three days time, you could know you can go to bed without worrying about someone joining. You could know you can be safe, and sleep through the night without anyone disrupting you. Knowing that, is the choice really that hard?” Natasha finished, and you were almost at your breaking point. 

Was it worth it? Was going back the best decision? Dreykov would hurt you, you knew that, but you deserved it. Didn’t you? 

“Please, just come with me. We can help,” Natasha spoke, nearly begged. 

You sighed deeply. 

“Fine, but if you put me in a cell, I will go on a murder streak,” you told her, and Natasha let out a chuckle, before seeing your facial expression, and realising you were dead serious. 

“Duly noted,” Natasha said, before motioning you towards the door. 

What had you done…

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @simp-erformarvelwomen @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @mxximoffswifey

[ms-demeanor]

Hello! First, I wanted to say thank you for your post about updating software and such. I really appreciated your perspective as someone with ADHD. The way you described your experiences with software frustration was IDENTICAL to my experience, so your post made a lot of sense to me.

Second, (and I hope my question isn't bothering you lol) would you mind explaining why it's important to update/adopt the new software? Like, why isn't there an option that doesn't involve constantly adopting new things? I understand why they'd need to fix stuff like functional bugs/make it compatible with new tech, but is it really necessary to change the user side of things as well?

Sorry if those are stupid questions or they're A Lot for a tumblr rando to ask, I'd just really like to understand because I think it would make it easier to get myself to adopt new stuff if I understand why it's necessary, and the other folks I know that know about computers don't really seem to understand the experience.

Thank you so much again for sharing your wisdom!!

A huge part of it is changing technologies and changing norms; I brought up Windows 8 in that other post and Win8 is a *great* example of user experience changing to match hardware, just in a situation that was an enormous mismatch with the market.

Win8's much-beloathed tiles came about because Microsoft seemed to be anticipating a massive pivot to tablet PCs in nearly all applications. The welcome screen was designed to be friendly to people who were using handheld touchscreens who could tap through various options, and it was meant to require more scrolling and less use of a keyboard.

But most people who the operating system went out to *didn't* have touchscreen tablets or laptops, they had a desktop computer with a mouse and a keyboard.

When that was released, it was Microsoft attempting to keep up with (or anticipate) market trends - they wanted something that was like "the iPad for Microsoft" so Windows 8 was meant to go with Microsoft Surface tablets.

We spent the first month of Win8's launch making it look like Windows 7 for our customers.

You can see the same thing with the centered taskbar on Windows 11; that's very clearly supposed to mimic the dock on apple computers (only you can't pin it anywhere but the bottom of the screen, which sucks).

Some of the visual changes are just trends and various companies trying to keep up with one another.

With software like Adobe I think it's probably based on customer data. The tool layout and the menu dropdowns are likely based on what people are actually looking for, and change based on what other tools people are using. That's likely true for most programs you use - the menu bar at the top of the screen in Word is populated with the options that people use the most; if a function you used to click on all the time is now buried, there's a possibility that people use it less these days for any number of reasons. (I'm currently being driven mildly insane by Teams moving the "attach file" button under a "more" menu instead of as an icon next to the "send message" button, and what this tells me is either that more users are putting emojis in their messages than attachments, or microsoft WANTS people to put more emojis than messages in their attachments).

But focusing on the operating system, since that's the big one:

The thing about OSs is that you interact with them so frequently that any little change seems massive and you get REALLY frustrated when you have to deal with that, but version-to-version most OSs don't change all that much visually and they also don't get released all that frequently. I've been working with windows machines for twelve years and in that time the only OSs that Microsoft has released were 8, 10, and 11. That's only about one OS every four years, which just is not that many. There was a big visual change in the interface between 7 and 8 (and 8 and 8.1, which is more of a 'panicked backing away' than a full release), but otherwise, realistically, Windows 11 still looks a lot like XP.

The second one is a screenshot of my actual computer. The only change I've made to the display is to pin the taskbar to the left side instead of keeping it centered and to fuck around a bit with the colors in the display customization. I haven't added any plugins or tools to get it to look different.

This is actually a pretty good demonstration of things changing based on user behavior too - XP didn't come with a search field in the task bar or the start menu, but later versions of Windows OSs did, because users had gotten used to searching things more in their phones and browsers, so then they learned to search things on their computers.

There are definitely nefarious reasons that software manufacturers change their interfaces. Microsoft has included ads in home versions of their OS and pushed searches through the Microsoft store since Windows 10, as one example. That's shitty and I think it's worthwhile to find the time to shut that down (and to kill various assistants and background tools and stop a lot of stuff that runs at startup).

But if you didn't have any changes, you wouldn't have any changes. I think it's handy to have a search field in the taskbar. I find "settings" (which is newer than control panel) easier to navigate than "control panel." Some of the stuff that got added over time is *good* from a user perspective - you can see that there's a little stopwatch pinned at the bottom of my screen; that's a tool I use daily that wasn't included in previous versions of the OS. I'm glad it got added, even if I'm kind of bummed that my Windows OS doesn't come with Spider Solitaire anymore.

One thing that's helpful to think about when considering software is that nobody *wants* to make clunky, unusable software. People want their software to run well, with few problems, and they want users to like it so that they don't call corporate and kick up a fuss.

When you see these kinds of changes to the user experience, it often reflects something that *you* may not want, but that is desirable to a *LOT* of other people. The primary example I can think of here is trackpad scrolling direction; at some point it became common for trackpads to scroll in the opposite direction that they used to; now the default direction is the one that feels wrong to me, because I grew up scrolling with a mouse, not a screen. People who grew up scrolling on a screen seem to feel that the new direction is a lot more intuitive, so it's the default. Thankfully, that's a setting that's easy to change, so it's a change that I make every time I come across it, but the change was made for a sensible reason, even if that reason was opaque to me at the time I stumbled across it and continues to irritate me to this day.

I don't know. I don't want to defend Windows all that much here because I fucking hate Microsoft and definitely prefer using Linux when I'm not at work or using programs that I don't have on Linux. But the thing is that you'll see changes with Linux releases as well.

I wouldn't mind finding a tool that made my desktop look 100% like Windows 95, that would be fun. But we'd probably all be really frustrated if there hadn't been any interface improvements changes since MS-DOS (and people have DEFINITELY been complaining about UX changes at least since then).

Like, I talk about this in terms of backward compatibility sometimes. A lot of people are frustrated that their old computers can't run new software well, and that new computers use so many resources. But the flipside of that is that pretty much nobody wants mobile internet to work the way that it did in 2004 or computers to act the way they did in 1984.

Like. People don't think about it much these days but the "windows" of the Windows Operating system represented a massive change to how people interacted with their computers that plenty of people hated and found unintuitive.

(also take some time to think about the little changes that have happened that you've appreciated or maybe didn't even notice. I used to hate the squiggly line under misspelled words but now I see the utility. Predictive text seems like new technology to me but it's really handy for a lot of people. Right clicking is a UX innovation. Sometimes you have to take the centered task bar in exchange for the built-in timer deck; sometimes you have to lose color-coded files in exchange for a right click.)

[petew21-blog]

Stop the bullying

Aiden was your typical straight bro, just lifting and pumping his body with his bro in the campus gym and in the afternoons playing football. He still couldn't let go of his high school ways of bullying people, so he tormented them even here in college.

How could people let him? Well he was a jock and a very favourite nephew of the dean and everytime a problem occured, the dean very efficiently solved it by punishing the other student. Efficient right?

That was until Aiden and Tom tormeneted yet another one of his gay classmates just right outside of the parking lot by beating him right next to one of the cars. What Aiden didn't know was that a very well known stoner was sitting on the other side.

Trevor was incredibly stoned, but not that much to save one of his fellow classmates. He entered the scene slightly confused what was happening

Trevor:"You guys would mind stopping this shit? It's interrupting my meditating session"

Aiden:"Get lost stoner or you're next"

Trevor:"I don't want to be rude, but I have to warn you. If you won't stop, I'll have to stop you myself" Trevor took of his beanie threw it on the ground and carefully placed the lit joint next to it

Aiden:"Just shut the fuck up already" and threw a punch at Trevor. Trevor only smiled and didn't even flinch. Maybe it was because of the fact that he knew the ounch would go right through him and it would be the needed thing to let him possess Aiden. Trevor got sucked in right in front of the other two guys. It took him a while to position himself

He woke up to the the sight of schocked Thomas and the poor gay fella on the ground trying to cover himself

Trevor positioned his cap on the head. "Ahh, you guys just left the gym right? Man, he reeks so much." and sniffed his new armpits obssesively. Then he took off his shirt, throwing it next to the gay guy and just examined his new torso. Smiling and touching his new chest and abs. That's when his eyes widened as he saw the joint on the ground slowly burning away. "Oh no. Can't let it go to waste!"

Thomas just kept staring with his mouth wide open.

Trevor leaned closer to Thomas and started talking:"I'm not sure you understand the situation that'sd happening here right now Thomas. But if you don't want this guy on the ground to take your body next, I suggest you keep your motuh shut about all of this and run away"

Thomas looked back only once as he was running away from his friend, or was he somewhere in there still? He might never know

Trevor reached out his hand to the guy on the ground:"It's safe now, man. Promise that this arm won't hurt you anymore."

The guy hesistated but than took his hand. He stood up, painfully grunting and holding his stomach.

Trevor inhaled the smoke from the joint and asked the guy:"So... what's your name man? You're ok?"

"I'm Martin, I... I think I am ok. So... Are you...? Who are you?"

"Well my name is Trevor, or Aiden now, I guess. haha. And don't worry I won't possess you. It's a power I use only when I think it's helping others, or.... when I need to get some confiscated weed. You wouldn't believe how much the police has stashed. And how ripped some of them are haha"

Martin was checking out Aiden's body as Trevor was enjoying his smoking, getting in the mood more rapidly than he was used to in his own body. Martin noticed the beanie lying on the ground. He tried to reach it but it was still painful. Trevor noticed and grabbed it himself

"Haha, I think Aiden will have a much needed style change. Gone are the days of the jock, in with the chill"

"So... Trevor? You can actually make other people possess someone?"

"Yes, sir. Who do you have in mind? I would be very happy to let you pick someone, but... morally I would be happier if it would be someone not very honest."

"Well... there is this girl in my class, Samantha and she is a total bitch. Just like Aiden. Would you let me possess her?"

Trevor:"Samantha? You wanna possess a girl? But I thought you were gay, man."

Martin:"Yeah, well that's the thing. Her boyfriend is Marc, the quarterback. And I had a crush on him since forever. I don't care if I am a girl or a boy. As long as I am with him."

Trevor:"Well, as you wish sir"

vv

Trevor did as he promised and than went on as his day would normally go. Not like he had anything planned anyway. His phone kept buzzing about Aiden's football pracitce, but he didn't care. His destination now was the locla skatepark. To Trevor, the swap meant a few things: he now had a stable flow of cash, he was hotter, he was fitter and he didn't have to worry about his future anymore

When Trevor finished with his skating he got the courage to enter Aiden's home. He was welcomed by Aiden's girlfriend who he then went on to have a very wild sex in the bed. Trevor didn't mind that she was a girl, just one of the few perks of being a bisexual. You get a much bigger dating pool.

Trevor let his new girlfriend sleep next to him and right as he was in the bed, he proceeded to lit up another of his joints he grabbed on the way.

Naked, high on weed and exploring his body. Enjoying the hard dick in his hand. Inhalimg the musk in his armpits. He couldn't get enough. He kept jerking off, thrusting his hips while caressing the muscles with the joint in his hands. So tight and compact. Everything was his now. The whole world was

The girlfriend woke up, schocked about the stateshe found him. Still jerking and smoking weed. She kept shouting about something but Trevor only heard himself saying:"Close the door behind you when you're leaving" and still kept jerking off.

And as she left, he unleashed streams of cum and shot up right up to his face. "Damn, Aiden. You cum a lot. I love this"

The months went by and the ex-straight ex-jock ex-bully was no a very newly transformed stoner, skater, but still maintaining his beatiful muscularity, bisexual man, who now kept dating and screwing a few women and men. Who knows how Aiden's feeling right now, right? Maybe he would enjoy the fuck that his body is high right now fucking a beautiful girl. Maybe he wouldn't really enjoy that his body had a huge dick in his ass. Who knows

Another story request from the inbox: Hey love your work! Thoughts on having a tough straight college jock getting possessed by a bisexual stoner/skater, enjoying his musk & muscles and becoming a laid back weed smoking himbo?

[valtsv]

i think lots of people who were bullied, mistreated, or ostracized growing up get pretty maladaptive about it as adults........ i see so many people on social media who seem think that what they went through was only bad because THEY didn't deserve it, and if THEY had the social capitol, THEY would've hurt people who DID deserve it, instead. i think having all that anger and pain in their hearts makes it hard to imagine a world without the violence they went through, so they fantasize about redirecting it "positively" rather than striving for a world where no one hurts like they did. i think it's a testament to your character that you went the opposite way, but i'm unfortunately not surprised some people have a kneejerk response to you taking accountability for your own behavior & refusing to continue the cycle of violence, since it doesn't square with their own ideas of victimhood. thanks for saying everything you have on this situation and being an all around kind, positive presence on my dashboard <3

no i completely agree, because for a time i WAS one of those people. i was so miserable and bitter about my own pain that i was jealous of everyone around me and perceived other people enjoying their own lives as a personal attack, and punched down out of fear of being knocked back down to the very bottom of the social ladder after i'd just managed to climb out of there myself. fortunately i've always had a personal principle that i can't expect anyone to do anything i'm not willing to do myself, so recognition of my own hypocrisy knocked me back on track pretty quickly when i realised that i could hardly expect anyone to ever extend any compassion or sympathy to me if i wasn't going to make the same effort on my part. and i won't pretend it was easy, because when you've been traumatised for most of your life it is incredibly hard to have faith in anyone ever again, and open yourself up to the possibility of being hurt by lowering your defences enough to let other people get close. but trust me when i say that it's worth it. no matter how hard an uphill battle it is, it's worth every step. i'm a much happier, more successful, loved and confident person because i let myself move forward.

[ddejavvu]

mvm monday; bestfriend james Potter with a shyly horny-when-drunk reader!! just imagining him bluescreening n crashing when she mumbles out a gonna go touch myself now jamie, g’night

this post is 18+, minors dni.

You stand up at precisely 12:00 midnight, three hours into a party that you've drunk yourself silly at. James, who'd been sitting beside you, thigh happily pressed to your own, sends you a questioning glance, reaching out to grab the tips of your fingers as you sway slightly in place.

"Where you goin', love? Think you've had enough to drink." He looks up curiously at you, his own brain slightly fuzzy from booze.

"M'gonna go get in bed," You bend your thumb to squeeze his own fingertips, just barely not holding hands, "Gotta get up early tomorrow, 'n I wanna have enough time to masturbate."

James drops your hand. Then he goes back for it when you try to leave, lunging to catch you before you head upstairs.

"What?" He narrows his eyes, bushy brow scrunched, "What did you say, love?"

He must have misheard you, surely. After all, it's loud, the music is thrumming through his entire body, he's sure he's just mixed up your words.

"I'm horny," You whine, alcohol infecting the words that you'd never say sober, "I always get needy when I drink. So I've gotta touch m'self before I go to sleep, or I'll get all antsy."

"I- Alright..." James nods, dumbfounded. He blinks, once, twice, thrice, then lets your hand go, "Um- goodnight, love. Have a.. good time."

"I will," You giggle, leaning in to plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek, "Hey, Jamie? Do me a favor?"

"Uh," James flounders, not sure what he could possibly ethically offer you at a time like this, "What do you need?"

"Call me pretty," You beg, eyes wide and shiny and imploring, "I want to hear you say it so I can think about it later."

"You," James stammers, heart stuttering in his chest as his hand instinctively reaches for your cheek. He feels like he's taking advantage of you, even though you're the only one benefitting from this, and you've asked for it all.

"Uh, you're pretty. Gorgeous," He murmurs, gaze transfixed on your hazy eyes, "G'night, love."

"Night Jamie," You gush, kissing the pad of his thumb where it hovers by your mouth, and turning to head up the stairs.

Sirius rams into his back a minute later, where James is still trying to comprehend the situation. He's sure he looks possessed, standing stock still and staring at your closed door, but he doesn't care.

"Jesus, Prongs," Sirius scoffs, "Just stand in the walkway, will you?"

"She thinks about me." James informs Sirius, his voice a faraway whisper that barely hits the other man's ears, "She- she thinks about me when she..."

"When she...?" Sirius looks expectantly at James, "Plan on finishing your sentences anytime soon, big guy?"

James finally snaps back to attention, eyes almost comically wide as he looks at Sirius, "I have to go."

"Okay," Sirius chuckles, confused as James rushes for their dorms, "Hey- Hey don't run into those people!"

"What's he on about?" Remus steps up behind Sirius, and the shorter man looks back.

"Dunno," Sirius shrugs, "Mumbling something about Y/N, I think."

"So nothing new," Remus snorts, "Where is she?"

"'Think she went to bed," Sirius nods at your dorm door, still closed, "Probably passed out the second her head hit the pillow, poor thing drunk herself silly."

"James too," Remus scoffs, raising his cup to his lips, "'Guess it's nice they're equally lightweight, means they both crap out at the same time."

There's more similarities between you and James than just that, though. You're mirror images of each other in your rooms, the waistband of your pants and undergarments pressing to your thighs as your hands delve between them. You're twin sinners, each replaying the other's voice in your heads while you touch yourself, 'You're pretty. Gorgeous.' and, 'I want to hear you say it so I can think about it later'.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I reported my roommate for smoking weed?

🖍 for identification

Okay so I (19, F) live in the dorms on my university campus. Specifically, I'm in the normal, freshman-only dorms. This means that while weed is legal in my area, very few if any of of people in my building are legally allowed to use it, only the RAs would be old enough

My schools drug policy is basically "Don't, especially on campus or in a way where you can get caught on campus. It we smell it from your room there will be consequences, and if you're somewhere where it's happening but not doing it yourself you will still face consequences". A lot of people don't really care and will smoke it on campus, or return to their dorms still smelling of it anyway. In addition, the smell is a major sensory issue for me (as in, feel sick, break down crying if there too long, very much not okay level). I do what I can for dealing with this myself (walk a bit out of my way to avoid area I know tends to be a spot people will smoke, hold my breath if I can avoid the smell, etc). It's not my business what people do, I get that.

Recently, after my roommate (F, don't know age but about my age) returns to our room she, and consequentially, the room, smell strongly of weed. This is, to me at least, a different situation than the walkway outside the dorm building/dorm lobby/other areas where I have to deal with the smell of weed because, well, it's partially my room. It's where I sleep and work and typically am when I don't have class or show work. And because it's a smaller more confined space, the smell is even stronger, permeates everything, and doesn't just go away.

While I've had things my roommate did cause sensory issues before, I always went with a "just deal" route because 1. She's paying the same as I am to live there and 2. It was mostly things like strong smelling food or having the TV running late at higher volumes, which I didn't know how to bring up with her and aren't Go To The RA type problems.

However, this is a different level, and I've slept in my car last night and tonight and avoided the room all day except to grab things like a change of clothes, my toiletries bag, my purse, etc. which when I went to grab, the room still smelled like weed. Because this is 1. worse than other sensory issues I've run into with her and 2. Something that could potentially get me in trouble if I was in the room and someone came by to check and noticed the smell, I've considered going to the RA/housing staff and telling them about this, but since I've never actually talked to my roommate about any problems, including this, I'm worried it would be an asshole move. Plus, it's possible the campus police would end up involved and thats a whole other level of trouble I would feel bad putting her through. When I first escaped to my car last night I sent a vent text to my brother, which my mom ended up seeing, and she's pushing me to tell someone but I'm worried about it

So, wibta?

What are these acronyms?