#folding proteins fold more proteins?

[megumi-fm]

every once in a while I remember that RT-QUIC is an actual diagnostic concept with good reproducibility that is somehow stuck in the same stage of research for years now and I go insane about it

[ribreadthedisaster]

As a pre-med-resident-assistant-peer-mentor-EMS-lieutenant-biochemistry major, I’m constantly asked how I’m able to accomplish so much in a day and maintain a healthy work-life balance.

The trick is: I don’t.

[damnyousubdermalirritants]

UPDATE: NOVAVAX NOW AVAILABLE!!!

Hi everyone, it's been about a year since I posted about updated COVID vaccines and it's time for another update if you are in the US:

THE BRIDGE ACCESS PROGRAM IS ENDING!!!!

If you are uninsured or your insurance does not cover covid boosters, please schedule a new booster appointment before the end of August because the Bridge Access Program (the way the government will still pay for your booster) ends in September. The updated mRNA boosters from Moderna and Pfizer are available now. Go Go GO!!!

Shitty, I know! If you can call your congressional reps, the FDA, the CDC, whomever to tell them you want this program to continue/be reinstated, that would be great. Also, while you're at it, call the FDA to tell them to expedite the approval for the updated Novavax booster (3017962640).

The new Novavax vaccine is designed for the JN.1 strain which is one of the most recent mutations of the virus going around. If you have insurance and can afford to wait, I highly recommend getting the Novavax booster when it becomes available.

We are currently in the largest Covid summer surge since 2021

If you haven't had a booster in the past six months you are essentially unvaccinated. New strains with different spike proteins keep evolving faster than vaccine development and distribution can keep up. All that said, getting Covid is not a moral failing. If you do feel sick, take a rapid test! If it's negative, test again a day or two later. It is better to know than not to know. Here's a refresh on how to take a rapid test correctly:

If you do get Covid, it is worth getting on antiretrovirals within the first week of symptoms to reduce the overall viral load your body has to fight. If your insurance doesn't cover Paxlovid or Remdesivir, here are other low/no-cost ways to access it:

If you get sick, rest radically even after you stop testing positive on rapid tests. Avoid exercising for at least eight weeks after the fact to reduce the risk of developing long covid.

Regardless of your vaccination status, masking with a KN95 or N95 respirator (or equivalent standards in your country i.e. FFP2/3 in the EU) is the most reliable way to protect yourself and others. If Covid protections are a financial burden, there is likely an active Mask Bloc near you doing free distribution of respirators and tests that would be happy to help you. Here's a global map of them from covidactionmap.org

Some quick tips: if you're wearing a bi-fold mask, flatten the nose-bridge wire completely, then mold it to your nose on your face for a better fit. The best mask is the one that you will actually wear regularly to protect yourself. I really like the selection of styles, sizes and colors from WellBefore:

As school is starting, getting you and your family boosted is one of the best things you can do to protect yourselves. Masking is perhaps even more important. If you can advocate for updating and regularly changing the HVAC filters at your local schools to MERV-13 or higher to keep the indoor air cleaner, that can also make a big difference. Better indoor air quality in schools helps protect kids from illness, allergies, wildfire smoke, and more per the EPA's website.

These are steps you can take to improve air quality at home as well. Corsi-Rosenthal boxes are low-cost and highly effective for cleaning the air indoors.

Here's a map of clean air lending libraries for getting access to air purifiers for events from cleanairclub.org

[egoistars]

PROJECT PARTER HCS (he wants you so bad) haikyuu

ft: aran, kita, atsumu, osamu, suna

ATSUMU:

HES TRYING!!! but is it successful? (no)

literally cannot shut up the entire time you two meet up but it's ok because he's funny

"hey you wanna see pictures of my teammates" "yeah sure" he pulls out a blurry .5 of suna's nostrils

offers you protein bars and osamus leftovers as snacks

compliments you on literally everything

you wrote two words? he starts cheering and clapping his hands like you're shakespeare presenting a new play

loves pretending to be your strict teacher whenever commenting on your work

makes up for his lack of preparation by making you laugh and flustered

"i think you can add a little more to this part" "you look so sexy calling me dumb"

if you two meet up at a cafe he ALWAYS!!! pays for you

started off as a mistake because he asked you for your order in front of the barista

but he thought for a moment and decided you're worth an extra $5 out of his wallet

always loses his pencils but has dozens of erasers?????

SWEARS by wooden pencils. he sees a mechanical pencil and jumps 5 feet into the air and starts screaming

last few days of the project he looks constipated every time you two are together

"do you need a diaper" "I WANT YOU"

you accept his confession because you unfortunately like him back and because you want a good grade

also because you don't want him pooping his pants

ARAN:

the sweetest!!

always asks how you're doing before pulling out his notes

digital note taker 100%

loves loves loves writing with erasable pen and only uses pencils for exams

is a "let's work on everything together" kinds guy

he says it's to make sure there aren't any disagreements in content and aesthetic (he just wants to talk to you)

if you guys aren't at your house, always offers to walk you back!!!

great academically but if you're making a poster or slideshow do NOT let him decorate it... pls watch out

"does this look good!" "i'm gonna hold your hand when i tell you this..." "omg you want to hold my hand 😍"

starts giggling to himself in his head whenever you guys accidentally touch

you catch him staring at you one day and you don't know what to say so you just stare back

he thinks its so romantic

you're just confused but go along with it

after presentations you think you guys are gonna go back to being friendly classmates but he finds you after class and asks you out :)

KITA:

ACADEMIC WEAPON TEACHERS FAV EVERYONE LOVES HIM

"do you want to read my notes?" he pulls out 5 notebooks with everything color coordinated, sticky tabs, perfect handwriting, and factually correct

he can sit and work for 5 hours straight and still somehow have perfect posture

first time you asked him for help on something you were about to piss yourself because you thought he would call you stupid and send you to hell

he gave you a small smile and started walking you through it with an unmatched level of patience

that was the moment you folded and had to physically restrain yourself from grabbing his cheeks and kissing his face

always offers you tea when you come over and brings out a small tray of snacks

"are you comfortable? do you need any help?"

is suuuuper meticulous but kind with his 739273 different corrections

he swears by the sandwich method of compliment-critique-compliment

"your analysis is amazing in this section but i think you can expand a little bit after because..."

you're the one who confessed first because you thought you would explode from cuteness aggression if you didn't

and also because you thought even if he did reject you, he'd do it in the most painless way

was super happy and bursted into a bright red face but shy smile!!

still told you to go back to the assignment though...

SUNA:

menace i hate him (no i don't)

literally doesn't understand anything that's going on and probably doesn't process what you're saying at first

realizes you're serious about this assignment and forces himself to lock in

asks a BUNCH of questions and jots them down on a google doc

loves to make random conversation when you two are working

actually insane gossiper

nosiest birch you know

allergic to minding his own business that mf has shit on everyone

are you slightly scared of what he has on you? yes. do you still want to hear everything he knows? yes

"i'm taking this info from page 175 of the textbook" "got it, but did you hear that kato is trying to get with his exs best friend??"

leaves notes on your project that are both unserious and encouraging

"omg u are literally einstein"

folds origami when bored

will give you paper cranes, frogs, foxes, and cats whenever you see each other

you discovered that there's small doodles in the posts it's he uses to make them

one day there's your name and his surrounded by hearts like the corny mf he is

confronted him and it and he was just like "oh you found that? well, do you want to go out with me?"

he was NOT SLICK with the way he skipped home and whistled to himself that day after you said yes

OSAMU:

HES TRYING HIS BEST!!! (pt. 2)

can only meet up after school because of volleyball so he offers to cook for you before starting to work

takes notes in class but doesn't understand half the stuff he jots down

writes actual bullshit but half a page in decides to abandon his pride and ask you for help

leans in a little too close whenever listening to what you're saying

tries to make sure your knees are touching and that it's all an accident when your fingers brush (he prepared each scenario in his head before sleeping the night before)

down bad LOSER

spends his time doing his portion of the project while sneaking glances at you

doesn't know how to decorate presentations for the life of him so he is on doodle duty

gives surprisingly good suggestions and takes your corrections to heart

one of the best project partners because of how willing he is to learn and contribute!!! (also because he wants to impress you)

talks shit about his brother to you

atsumu has walked in while osamu was telling you an embarrassing story

they start fighting

osamu gets super embarrassed when you laugh at him

then gets overly confident when you tell him you were rooting for him

will not stop dumb smiling whenever he sees you after that

asks you out after the project is turned in with his hands in his pockets with how they're shaking so much

[nereidprinc3ss]

promiscuous

in which spencer reid doesn't like that flirty!reader is going on a date. he makes that known. (bandages universe)

flangst, 18+ for discussions of sex warnings/tags: gn!reader I think, mentions of going to a bar/going for drinks, very suppressed mutual pining, jealousy from Spencer, reader implied to engage in casual sex, reader calls themself a slut somewhat disparagingly but like as a joke, it all gets resolved, he is very sweet, he rambles when he's nervous a/n: oh God I love them so much they are like so in love and they literally have no idea at all because they're so dumb... but WE can tell.. turning point for them

“Penelope wanted me to confirm that you guys are coming to drinks with us tonight?”

It’s something of a standing tradition for the BAU on the last Friday of every month, and usually you’d agree, but tonight, you have other plans. 

“Raincheck for me,” you say, sliding some files into your bag which you do not plan on reviewing. “I have a thing.”

“What thing do you have on a Friday night?” Morgan asks skeptically. You don’t bother looking at him as you hide a smile. 

“A date, Morgan. You jealous?”

“You’re going on a date?”

You’d nearly forgotten Spencer was in the room until he spoke—he’s been in one of those quiet moods of his where he sort of floats around everyone else and makes himself insubstantial. As you cast him a sidelong glance, trying to figure out his tone of voice, you see he’s frowning. Nearly grimacing. His brows are drawn so tight you’re worried he’ll give himself a headache. 

“Uh, yeah. I am.” Suddenly, your parade feels a little rained on. 

“With who?”

You pause, looking back down at your desk with a new frown of your own and shaking your head as if you could clear it that way. “Just… some guy from OT.”

“Dalton?”

Ding ding ding. Somehow he got it right on the first guess, and for some reason, you wish he hadn’t. You don’t want Spencer knowing who you’re going on a date with. It feels wrong. 

“Does it matter?” You evade, shoving your things with a little more force into your bag. 

“Well Dalton is an idiot, so I guess I’m just trying to figure out why you’d go out with him.”

“And if it’s not Dalton?”

“Then I’d tell you all the guys in OT are idiots and you shouldn’t waste your time on any of them.”

“Alright—” Morgan passes between your desks, placing a friendly hand on your back as he does. “I’m gonna let you two hash this out by yourselves.” He gives you a look, eyebrows raised, unsmiling, that means, go easy on the kid. It makes you feel terribly guilty. And more than a little defensive. 

“Night,” you call halfheartedly. He only waves as the glass doors swing shut behind him, leaving you and boy genius alone in the bull pen.

Silence falls, cloistering you as you finish packing up together. It seems to magnify the buzz of the overheads. You notice him intentionally lingering, and you sling your bag over your shoulder with a sigh. 

“Okay,” you say, turning to face him with your whole body. He seems uncomfortable with that, but you’re not letting this go. “What is this? Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you,” he mumbles, refusing to meet your eyes. “I just think—”

“Yeah. You’ve made your thoughts abundantly clear. I don’t know why you’re judging me for going on a date.”

“I’m not judging you! I just think you deserve better than a guy who looks like he… snorts protein powder for every meal and has less capacity for intelligent conversation than a mealworm.”

“Okay. Do you have someone in mind?”

The words come out a little sharper than you’d meant for them to. A little louder. Spencer looks like a scolded puppy as he swallows. 

“Not specifically. Just—someone more like you.”

He just doesn’t get it. You fold your jacket over your arm. 

“Yeah, well, until someone more like me comes along and asks me out, Dalton is the best I’ve got. I know he’s not my soulmate, Reid. But he asked me to drinks, and I said yes.”

The room is mostly dark. Only a few fluorescents remain on to cast Spencer in an almost clinical glow against a dark grey background. You’ve been here before. It feels like an interrogation. An environment where you’re practically begging for the truth without saying please, but there’s only room for measured dishonesty. 

Spencer speaks under his breath, fiddling with the strap of his own bag. “He’s not good enough for you.”

“What do you want me to do?” It’s an exasperated, confrontational sigh. Your arms raise and fall heavily back to your sides. Another long grey hallway of silence that leads nowhere. When it becomes clear he doesn’t have the answer, or he’s not comfortable sharing, you straighten. “I’ll see you Monday, Reid.”

Your spirits are completely dampened as you trudge to the elevators. What once seemed like an exciting opportunity now only serves as a depressing reminder that you’re wasting your time with a man who isn’t what you want. Maybe you should just call the whole thing off. 

“Wait,” Spencer calls, half-jogging to catch the open elevator. His bag bobs with every step, pens and things jingling around inside. It’s endearing, even though you’re upset with him. Your arms remain stubbornly crossed, but he makes it anyway. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your mood.”

You laugh dryly. “Yeah, well…”

“It’s just that…” he sniffs and looks down, hair falling in front of his face. He really is sweet, even when he’s kind of a dick. He’s full of so much sincerity he doesn’t know what to do with it all. “I know how you are—you’re special, and funny, and intelligent, and, and Dalton—all those qualities are wasted on him. He looks at you and he just sees a pretty face. It may sound trite, but… he doesn’t deserve you.”

You sigh again, heart squeezing. The glowing light on the panel of floor numbers flickers. “I know your heart is in the right place, alright? But it’s not about who deserves me or who doesn’t. I’m not a prize. I’m a person, and people like to feel wanted. Sometimes, it’s just—it’s about who’s there, and who likes me enough to say it to my face. Sometimes that’s all I need, and I know you didn’t mean it like this, but when you say he doesn’t deserve me, it really seems like you’re not considering what I might want at all. Maybe Dalton is what I want.”

God—this elevator ride is like, comedically long. 

“Is he what you want?”

At least he has the bravery to ask. 

You glance over at Spencer, washed out bloodless and looking like he’s prepared to flinch, like he doesn’t know if he’s ready for the answer. The doors ding and slide open, and stale air whooshes from the chrome compartment into the lobby like a held breath finally exhaled. You swallow. 

“I don’t know why it matters to you.”

“Because you’re my friend and I want to see you happy,” he insists, trailing after you as you speed walk through the lobby. Every click of your heeled boots echos. 

“Then shouldn’t you be supporting me?”

“I’m not going to support you in making the wrong choice.”

The conversation spills out into the bitter-cold parking lot. You turn around to face him. 

“Respectfully, you have no idea what’s right or wrong for me. I don’t like whatever this is,” you say, gesturing with a finger between the two of you, as if the conflict were a tangible thing—a phone line hanging between your hearts. “I don’t know if it’s, like, jealousy, or some misplaced feeling of possessiveness, or protectiveness, or—”

“It’s not like that!” He splutters. 

“Okay—so what is it like? If you want to see me happy, why don’t you support me in pursuing the things that make me happy? And if that’s meaningless sex with some guy from operational tech, so be it! You are not in a position to give your two cents on who I sleep with!”

“I wasn’t trying to—I wasn’t even thinking about—about sex! I don’t care who you sleep with!”

He’s turning increasingly pink. 

“Fine. But if you weren’t thinking about sex, if you thought I was under any illusion that Dalton was going to be my fucking Prince Charming then clearly you’re not equipped to have this conversation. I know he’s an idiot. I’m not looking for my soulmate—thank you, though, for reminding me that it’s completely fucking pointless to even pretend. I love you, Spencer, but grow up. And stay out of my business.”

And with that, you’re turning on your heel and marching toward your car. Spencer calls your name—once. Twice. The wind lashes against your bare arms and stings your eyes as you fumble with your keys. 

It’s just the wind. 

Nothing else. 

-

Maybe you’re simply not meant for love. 

It’s a narcissistic thought in the sense that everyone has it at some point in their lives—everyone falls victim to the delusion that they are so uniquely wretched, so singularly incapable of being understood by another person. It’s the universal illusion of solitude. And you’d thought yourself above it for a long time. In college, there was fling after fling. Your bed was never empty if you didn’t want it to be. In your young adult life, you have other priorities—but you rarely have to be alone. 

Now, though, as you sit on a rickety metal stool deep in the bowels of the Bureau’s records room, banished to sort through files in search of one that had been mishandled during a cold case and is now supposedly relevant again, (although you’re not sure it actually exists) you’re pondering the nature of those connections you’d been so sure your life was full of. Were they all artificial? Designed by you subconsciously to manufacture a sense of complacent satisfaction? To stave off the aching, gnawing loneliness in your gut that you’re only now becoming aware of and has been eating you away in bigger and bigger bites since Friday night?

Morgan was supposed to be just as arm-deep into a box of dusty manila folders as you are now, but he talked his way out of it, and you’re sitting in an awkward twenty-minute-long-so-far silence with Spencer. Which isn’t helping anything. 

The tension comes and goes like the moon pulling the tides. It’s like you can sense it wafting off of each other—you feel it in the prickle on the back of your neck and the buzz in your stomach when he’s about to say something, and you glance over, and he’s already looking at you with his lips parted, and then he doesn’t say anything after all, and the silence reinforces itself. 

It gets frustrating. 

Not to mention this task is equal parts mind numbing and infuriating. Maybe Hotch just hates you. 

Eventually Spencer clears his throat, and you welcome the distraction. 

“What year are you on?”

You give him a long look which he doesn’t reciprocate, because you want to say, really? But eventually you pick up the edge of the box you’re sifting through and double check. 

“Uh… June 1979 through August 1979.”

He nods matter-of-facts. “They should be making us wear gloves.”

Your incoming tangent spidey senses are tingling. It’s not exactly an opportune time, but it’s better than silence. 

Plus—you’re pretty sure this is his idea of a peace offering. 

“Why’s that?” You mutter, flicking through yellowed papers. 

“Wood pulp paper contains an alum-rosin mixture to minimize ink bleeding, but in the presence of moisture such as that introduced in trace amounts by our fingertips it generates a diluted sulfuric acid solution. They didn’t start adding alkaline buffers into paper until 1986, and the cellulose chains that comprise the structure of the paper inevitably shorten and break down over time, so we’re actively degrading these documents by touching them without gloves.”

“Did you say sulfuric acid?”

“I said a diluted sulfuric acid solution,” he clarifies, utterly missing the point of your question as he so often does in that disarmingly endearing way of his. “Sorry, by the way.”

You look up from a photo of bloodied bell-bottom jeans. He’s caught you by surprise. 

“For what?”

“For—”

He struggles with the words—you watch his lips form a few silent ones before he gives up on the nonchalant act and sets his file on his lap. He can’t seem to tear his eyes from it, but you don’t mind. 

“For everything on Friday. I… I know it was none of my business. I sometimes struggle with… keeping my thoughts to myself. Especially when it concerns someone I care about. But I wasn’t judging you, I swear. What you said about—about sex, I—” he sighs, obviously frustrated with himself, and pushes a bit of hair out of his eyes. “That’s not where my mind was at, at all. Whatever you… do, or don’t do, is none of my business. Obviously. You don’t need me to tell you that. You don’t need me to tell you anything. I just really wanted to clarify that I wasn’t shaming you or judging you for—”

“Spencer,” you say gently, cutting him off and reeling him in before he can dig any deeper. 

“Yeah. Sorry.”

He glows under the canned lighting, a soft aura of white blurring the edges of him. The stale room buzzes. It’s otherwise quiet down here. Peaceful, almost. 

From anyone else, you might consider it overstepping. 

You wouldn’t have been willing to forgive them in the first place. 

But it’s not anyone else. 

“Thank you, for apologizing. I really appreciate it.”

He glances up at you, sort of hunched—always trying to make himself smaller than whatever force created him had intended. The deep brown of his eyes is melted and swirling and sweet and nervous. He’s not naturally good at these interpersonal things, but he’s always trying. He’s always pushing himself for you.

Do you ask too much? 

Do you offer enough in return?

Struck by sudden insecurity, you look away. Go back to your files. 

Perhaps you made a mountain out of a molehill and told him to climb it. 

“I mean, I am kind of a slut. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking so,” you laugh airily. “Maybe it was a good reality check.”

A trailing silence. An air conditioner kicks on. 

“What? That’s not—that’s not at all what I was trying to say.”

“Spencer, it’s fine.”

His stool squeaks as he sits up straighter. 

“No, I really want you to understand. Even if I cared or thought about how many people you might sleep with—which I don’t—and even if I determined that you were… sexually promiscuous, I wouldn’t assign a moral value to that judgement. Sexual promiscuity is observed all the time in the animal kingdom, it’s biologically sound and justified and in less misogynistic cultures where bonds forged between humans weren’t socioeconomic arrangements dependent on women being viewed as commodities first and foremost, it’s completely unremarkable. But I haven’t made that determination. All I know is that… you’re you. And that’s all that’s ever going to matter to me.”

Silence falls. Your voice gets stuck in your throat. 

How does he so casually show you more kindness than anyone else has ever managed to show you in your life?

Spencer takes pity on you. 

“And… we’ve talked entirely too much about something that’s none of my business today.”

It’s wry and earns a chuckle from you. Even Spencer manages a chagrined smile. That same strand of hair falls loose as he looks down. Light bounces from his self-effacing smirk. 

You fiddle absentmindedly with the fraying corner of a folder, and you’re about to open your mouth, about to speak into the sparkling cloud that the easy laughter and the melted tension has left in its wake, and tell him how much you appreciate him and how kind he truly is and undoubtedly whatever you say will be made more beautiful because of it—because of the affection you have for each other—and then you stop, eyes catching on the case file between your fingers. You frown. 

“Wait—what’s the case number we’re looking for?”

“91 18 00063 7.”

You hold the file up, eyes alight. 

“I found it.”

Spencer frowns and takes it without asking. You watch as he reviews the number in tiny black typeface along the top of the document. His brow scrunches in disbelief. 

“I genuinely didn’t think we were ever going to find it,” he murmurs after leading through the photos and glances back up at you. “We had thirty years of boxes to look through and you found it in under an hour. You’re like magic.”

It’s impossible not to smile. You feel all warm and sparkly as you snatch it back from him and stand, straightening your jacket. 

“Will you tell that to Hotch?”

“I… will tell anyone who will listen,” he assures you, and you’re confident he’s following as you make your way through the maze of stacks. “Are we not gonna clean up our mess?”

“There are people who will take care of that later.”

“Yeah. Like me. During my lunch break.”

“Don’t worry. You’re going to be well rewarded for your efforts today.”

“What does that mean?” He mumbles, and you can practically hear his blush. 

You smile to yourself. 

Still got it. 

for more of these two, check out the bandages universe masterlist!

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。FAMILY SECRETS — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fem! + mom! reader, reader is referred to as “mommy” and “wife,” girl dad toru <3, family shenanigans in the grocery store that are unfortunately inescapable when your husband is gojo satoru

“ok,” you nod, looking over your grocery list. “i think that’s everything—”

“mommy, can we please get this,” your daughter looks up at you pleadingly, tugging at your sleeve as she holds a bag of candy—she has satoru’s eyes, wide and blue and so easy to give into. you look at her for a moment before pursing your lips.

“no, satoru. we can’t get this bag of candy.” you turn to the devil himself, glaring at him as he whistles innocently.

“what’re you lookin’ at me for, sweetheart? our little peanut here wants—”

“satoru.”

“fine,” he deflates. you pinch your nose as you sigh.

satoru, in his thirty plus years of life, has surprisingly never had a cavity for how much sugar he consumes. he’s good at taking care of himself, he argues, there’s no chance he’d ever get a cavity. that is, until recently. he visits the dentist and has not one, but two cavities—you think this is a rather alarming sign that he needs to cut back on the sweets, so you take matters into your own hands.

and, well….he’s not handling it very brightly.

“you thought i’d cave just because you tricked our daughter into asking?” you raise a brow, making him huff as he pouts.

“what kind of heartless soul could say no to those eyes?” he asks in disbelief, waving a hand at the small carbon copy of your husband as she blinks up at you, “i mean look at her! she doesn’t deserve the word no.”

“she definitely needs the word no so she doesn’t end up spoiled like you. and i’ve had plenty of practice,” you shoot blandly, “i’ve said no to your eyes all these years haven’t i?”

“even crazier,” he mutters, “i have the most adorable eyes, how could you say no?”

“it’s pretty easy if you ask me,” you shrug.

most people tend to call satoru arrogant—humble is not usually used in the same sentence as gojo satoru. evidently, they’ve never watched him interact with you before—you always find a way to humble him. he’s starting to think he’s the butt of every joke in his own marriage.

“please, baby?” he pouts deeper, “i’ve been good! i floss!”

“no.”

“what if i fold the laundry for a month?” he bats his lashes.

that’s tempting, you have to admit. folding laundry is a very boring job, you’re more than happy to hand it over to satoru for a bag of candy that barely dents your wallet. but then you find your resolve again, crossing your arms as you stare at him unimpressed.

“no, satoru.”

“two months?”

“nope.”

“did you only marry me for my looks?” he asks in disbelief, “because there’s not one ounce of love in that heart of yours.”

“this is for your own good, satoru,” you say firmly, “you had two cavities. how much sugar have you been consuming lately? and don’t think i don’t notice you skipping meals when you’re busy—a chocolate bar does not replace lunch.”

you’re glaring at him, drilling him for his health choices that are not his fault—he’s a busy guy, and he can’t help that a chocolate bar on his way to a mission is all he can squeeze in sometimes. maybe a protein bar would be a better option, but they’re not as tasty, and satoru thinks he deserves to be happy. and then, from the end of the aisle, you hear a few snickers coming from passerby’s. he pouts deeper at the thought of being laughed at as he gets scolded by his wife in the middle of the breakfast aisle.

“what’s the point of living if you’re gonna be miserable?” he groans, “we might as well just start going to bed at nine pm too, while we’re at it. and—”

“that’s actually a lovely idea,” you hum thoughtfully, “you certainly could use the sleep, couldn’t you?”

he glares at you petulantly, sulking as you grab the bag from your daughter’s and put it on the shelf—it’s not the right place, but taking a trip to the candy aisle to place it where it belongs is only venturing deeper into the lion’s den. you’re not letting satoru have more options to choose from.

“you seein’ this, angel?” he turns to your daughter, “you see how mean mommy is? she’s not letting us have candy. make sure you remember that when i ask you who’s your favorite again.”

you roll your eyes, snorting. satoru asks her playfully one night who the favorite parent is—it’s a meaningless question, meant to be a joke and nothing else. you’re sure he expects her to say both—but he gets his feelings severely hurt when she giggles and points to you, staring in disbelief as you grin in victory and kiss her cheeks. you even rub salt on the wound when you mumble she’s your favorite baby too.

he’s starting to really think he’s a victim in his own household.

“but mommy gives me candy,” she tilts her head in confusion.

oh no. she’s not supposed to say that—she promised not to say that. why can’t children ever keep a filter on their words? and why can’t they keep their promises?

almost like in slow motion, both of your eyes widen. satoru pauses. you start to sweat. he turns to face you slowly, in abject disbelief.

“what?” you laugh nervously, “no i don’t! we don’t have any candy at home—”

“she keeps it in her drawer!” your daughter adds, as if she wants to see your downfall.

you love your daughter, you really do—but sometimes you think motherhood is a punishment for whatever sin it is that you’ve committed in your previous life. satoru crosses his arms and taps his foot.

“what happened to we’ll all give up sweets together so you’re not alone, toru,” he mocks your voice, squinting at you accusingly. “so we’re a family of liars now?”

“toru, listen—”

“i trusted you.”

“baby—”

“what happened to our wedding vows? what happened to in sickness and in death? a little cavity is enough to change all that? i’m scared to think what you’d do if i lost an arm.”

“well, you’re not the strongest for nothing,” you point out, chuckling nervously, “so we have nothing to worry about there.”

“i can’t believe you,” he spits, turning away from you with crossed arms and a quiet hmph.

“toru, you can’t expect us all to give up sugar just because you can’t stop making poor health choices,” you argue exasperatedly.

so what if you secretly enjoy a kitkat here and there? you deserve it for dealing with not one, but two children at home every single day—sometimes three if shoko comes over, her lifestyle choices aren’t any better. satoru should let you enjoy a piece of candy or two until he fixes his terrible habits that could very well set a terrible example for your very young and impressionable daughter.

“well, i have adult money of my own,” satoru huffs, “and as an adult, i’ll be purchasing my own candy to hide in my own drawer that i won’t share with you since we’re now apparently a family that doesn’t think sharing is caring.”

“i don’t know if i’m raising one child or two,” you sigh tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face.

satoru grabs the bag of candy off the shelf, promptly placing it in the cart before walking off ahead of you as he pushes it. your daughter grabs your hand and smiles, tugging you along.

“c’mon mommy,” she says brightly, “you said we can go to the park!”

—————— BONUS ——————

“are you serious, satoru?” you ask incredulously, watching as he comes back to sit on the other end of the bench, ice cream cone in hand.

he didn’t even bring you one—what an asshole.

“oh sorry,” he shrugs, “i figured you and our daughter were planning on getting ice cream on your own without me. since, you know, apparently you guys love to have lots of things without me.”

“you’re being so dramatic—”

“i want ice cream too!” you hear a small voice call from the distance, making you turn to your daughter as she sprints over to you from the playground, eyeing the cone in satoru’s hand.

“you heard her,” he drawls, licking at his strawberry ice cream mockingly, “why don’t you go buy her a secret cone. i won’t look.”

being a single mom of two is a full time job, you think, you didn’t sign up for this.

guess who has two cavities ?? a certain brother of mine. guess who’s entire household has to give up sweets now for their brother’s inability to have proper dental hygiene ?? if you guessed me, you might just be psychic :O

[friendlyneighborhoodshark]

"How to Life" Masterlist

Cleaning and Tidying

Make your bed in the morning. It takes seconds, and it's worth it.

Reset to zero each morning.

Use the UFYH 20/10 system for clearing your shit.

Have a 'drop-zone' box where you dump anything and everything. At the beginning/end of the day, clear it out and put that shit away.

Automate your chores. Have a cleaning schedule and assign 15mins daily to do whatever cleaning tasks are set for that day. Set a timer and do it once the timer is up, finish the task you're on and leave it for the day.

Fold your clothes straight out of the tumble dryer (if you use one), whilst they're still warm. This minimises creases and eliminates the need for ironing.

Clean your footwear regularly and you'll feel like a champ.

Organisation and Productivity

Learn from Eisenhower's Importance/Urgency matrix.

Try out the two-minute rule and the Pomodoro technique.

Use. A. Planner. (Or Google Calendar, if that's more your thing.)

Try bullet journalling.

Keep a notebook/journal/commonplace book to dump your brain contents in on the regular.

Set morning alarms at two-minute intervals rather than five, and stick your alarm on the other side of the room. It's brutal, but it works.

Set three main goals each day, with one of them being your #1 priority. Don't overload your to-do list or you'll hit overload paralysis and procrastinate.

If you're in a slump, however, don't be afraid to put things like "shower" on your to do list - that may be a big enough goal in itself, and that's okay.

Have a physical inbox - a tray, a folder, whatever. If you get a piece of paper, stick it in there and sort through it at the end of the week.

Consider utilising the GTD System, or a variation of it.

Try timeboxing.

Have a morning routine, and guard that quiet time ferociously.

Have a folder for all your important documents and letters, organised by topic (e.g. medical, bank, university, work, identification). At the front of this folder, have a sheet of paper with all the key information written on it, such as your GP's details, your passport details, driving licence details, bank account number, insurance number(s), and so on.

Schedule working time and down time alike, in the balance that works for you.

Money

Have. A. God. Damn. Budget.

Use a money tracker like toshl, mint, or splitwise. Enter all expenses asap! (You will forget, otherwise.)

Have a 'money date' each week, where you sort through your finances from the past seven days and then add it to a spreadsheet. This will help you identify your spending patterns and whether your budget is actually working or not.

Pack your own frickin' lunch like a grown-up and stop buying so many takeaway coffees. Keep snacks in your bag.

Food and Cooking

Know how to cook the basics: a starch, a protein, a vegetable, and a sauce.

Simple, one-pot meals ("a grain, a green, and a bean") are a godsend.

Batch cook and freeze. Make your own 'microwave meals'.

Buy dried goods to save money - rice and beans are a pittance.

Consider Meatless Mondays; it's healthier, cheaper, and more environmentally friendly.

Learn which fruits and vegetables are cheapest at your store, and build a standard weekly menu around those. (Also remember that frozen vegetables are cheap and healthy.)

Learn seasoning combinations. Different seasoning, even with the exact same ingredients, can make a dish seem completely new.

Misc

Have a stock email-writing format.

Want to start running, but find it boring? Try Zombies, Run!.

Keep a goddamn first aid kit and learn how to use it.

Update your CV regularly.

Keep a selection of stamps and standard envelopes for unexpected posting needs. (It happens more regularly than you would think!)

[pangur-and-grim]

Do you have any advice on finding ethical cat breeders? I've only ever adopted, but I'm hoping to get hairless (or slightly haired) breed in the future due to my partner's allergies.

oh sure, here's what sold me on the breeder I'm currently wait-listed for:

she lists the 40+ health tests her animals have gone through, and has the results uploaded onto her website

each cat has their coefficient of inbreeding visible

it's not a kitten factory. there are set times of year when breeding occurs (in this case, spring and fall)

breeding animals have short careers and then are retired, to avoid strain on their bodies, and allow them to live as pets

she attends cat shows to ensure her animals are meeting breed standards

there are rarely any kittens 'for sale', as most sales are done through a waitlist. this means that even before being born, most of the kittens she produces already have waiting homes.

she requires buyers to sign a contract saying that this will be an indoor cat, and that there will be no declawing

also in the contract: if for whatever reason you can no longer care for your cat, she will take it back and find a home for it.

doesn't breed for any unethical traits (extreme brachycephaly, manx tails, folded ears, lykoi fur mutation, munchkin legs, etc.)

doesn't make outlandish claims - anyone who breeds lower allergen cats should be forthright about the fact that no cat will truly be hypoallergenic, only less allergenic

requires the cat to have a feline companion if it is of a more social breed (oriental, siamese, devon rex, etc)

has a 2 year congenital health guarantee

there's probably more, but that's off the top of my head!

EDIT: as for your particular situation, aim for breeds that produce less of the protein in their saliva that triggers allergies. Devon Rexes (the breed I'm getting) are a double whammy in this regard, as they produce less of the protein, and shed less fur into their environment.

[annievrse]

that's not my name!

college!eren jaeger x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb c/w: eren refers to reader as 'my girl', she/her pronouns, established relationship, reader is shorter than eren.

"call me that one more time and see what happens."

you roll your lips between your teeth, a smile threatening to break across your face. "eren, eren, eren."

"baby!" he pouts. "you always call me baby. stop that."

you giggle into your hand, eren’s fallen expression causing you to burst. his eyes shift under his dark eyebrows, mischief swimming in his green irises.

then, eren abandons his protein drink and reaches over the table, placing his hands on your shoulders. "don't make me shake you."

"baby," you whisper, peering up at him. at the sound of his name, he visibly melts. his shoulders relax, and his expression morphs into relief.

"thank you," eren nods, rubbing your skin. "now, was that so hard?"

"i dont know, eren, you tell me."

"ugh," he rolls his eyes, sitting back down and taking a swig of his drink.

"can i try some?"

"no, because i know you're not gonna like it," eren deadpans. "then you're going to ask me how the hell i like it, and i don't want to listen to that right now."

"you're so mean."

"says the one purposefully messing up my name before."

"are we gonna stop them soon?" armin whispers to mikasa, the pair governing the other half of the picnic bench—you next to mikasa & armin beside eren.

the girl rolls her eyes and sighs. “we have to meet up with the others soon. are you done?"

you face her with a wince and give your best friend a sheepish smile. "sorry."

"she's lying," eren quips, winking at you across the table. he finishes his drink and shoves the cup into the side of his backpack.

"am not!" you say, throwing him a glare. you don't miss the anxious expression on armin's face. "and look! you're even stressing armin out."

armin's cheeks glow red at your comment. "i just don't want to be late."

eren grins and raises an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest. a few loose strands from his bun fall in his eyes as he tilts his head. "you two can go on. we'll catch up with you later."

mikasa rolls her eyes and stands, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. she yanks armin up by his shirt collar. "don't be too late."

"when are we ever?" eren smirks, eyes never straying from yours.

armin scoffs, pushing his glasses up his noise. "do you really want us to answer that?"

"damn," eren pouts. "fine, we'll come with you right now then." he stands from his spot and rounds the table before you can do the same. eren plucks your bag from your side and heaves it onto his shoulder, slipping his arm through his own backpack seconds later.

you giggle as he urges you to hurry up, running ahead of mikasa and armin. "we're never late!"

mikasa nudges your shoulder when you fall into step beside her. "better get going. you don't want to be late."

you roll your eyes and quicken your steps to catch up to your boyfriend, who almost tackles you when he notices you approaching. "my girl."

"my baby," you laugh and shove your face into his shoulder. his strides are much longer than yours, so you half jog to keep up with him. giggles fall from eren's lips as he kisses your head.

"you're going the wrong way!"

"shit," eren mumbles, steering you across the grass to the path where your best friends walk.

with your hand in the crook of his elbow, you walk behind them, whispering about nothing and everything and sharing kisses between laughs.

[inkdrinkerworld]

okay so ive literally only seen either virgin!reader and experienced!spencer or virgin!spencer and experienced!reader but never both reader and spencer being virgins and i would LOVE to see your take on it with early season (s2-3) if that's something you are interested in!

thank you so much!

Oh oh this can be very cool! Thank you for your request darling! This is the set up between our awkward loves ᡣ𐭩

It’s painfully obvious you and Spencer like each other- painfully.

But Elle has warned Derek off of giving either of you stick for it- still she notices things, she isn’t sure if you and Spencer have noticed though.

You and Spencer always eat breakfast together in the kitchenette and when Spencer pours your tea exactly like you like it, your shoulders square and you smile a little half smile.

When your hand brushes Spencer’s after sharing half your fruit, his cheeks flame and he stumbled through the rest of whatever he was saying.

She’s thought Derek had been joking when he said Spencer never gets girls, but it’s clear this is the first time for the two of you.

“Spencer, they finally had honeydew and I got the last of the crunchy nectarines and peaches.” You say as you set your bag down, Spencer folding his crossword away as he stands.

“But are they sweet? It’s not peak season for them anymore and studies show that the closer it is to the end of the fruit’s season the more tasteless it can become. You may have peaches and nectarines that are either sour or have a higher water content.”

He makes up the distance between you with three quick strides, tilting his head toward the kitchenette.

You pout as you show Spencer your bowl of already cut fruit. “Taste one and make a better assessment?”

Spencer’s cheeks heat as he takes a wedge of the peach and finds it sweet as can be and crunchy like he likes it; your eyes on him the whole time.

You stand there more than a little smug. Spencer refrains from blushing even more.

“Let’s eat,” Spencer made eggs and sausages, something about high protein breakfasts keeping you satiated and able to perform properly all day.

You brought fresh bread and the fruit.

You’re not expecting Spencer’s hand to press into the small of your back as he squeezes behind you to get to the fridge as you dish the fruit into bowls.

Your breath hitches and your body stiffens - the pressure feels good if a bit foreign.

“Sorry, I made your iced coffee.” He mumbles retrieving your cup and sitting down.

The conversation between you and Spencer flows easily, you talk about bugs, your favourite animals, you even venture into a little talk about work and how you’re working on something for your old university.

You touch Spencer’s hand as you take a sip of the coffee, your thumb going back and forth. Your eyes lock on his as you compliment him. “It’s perfect, Spence. Thank you.”

Elle is glad Derek isn’t there when Spencer goes scarlet and can’t seem to get his words out.

[lunarfleur]

how aboutttt something with katsuki and him doing acts of service as his love language ?

Acts Of Service Bf Katsuki

Warnings: Mention of mental health! Not proofread!

A/N: Katsuki Bakugo they could never make me hate you

GN reader

Bro is NOT going to be lovey dovey and call you teddy bear.

And you’re most likely in the hero course because I can’t see him with someone who’s not.

Katsuki is emotionally constipated, so affection is rare

Most people don’t realize you guys are dating, actually

You just have to learn to read between the lines!

More than most things, he cares about his diet.

He skips out on “sometimes foods”, as he calls them, and prefers foods that are high in protein

He’s typically the one who makes your guys’ food and always makes things that are good for you

He doesn’t necessarily control what you eat, but a lot of his food is added into your diet so!

He’ll make you tea over coffee, and is always reminding you to drink water!

But aside from food, he normally does things that just makes your life more comfortable.

He’ll tidy up your shelves or fold laundry you haven’t gotten to (he’ll scold you for letting your room get messy because he’s a bit of a neat freak)

He’ll change your sheets or refill your water bottle

He irons your school uniform for you!!

And also just the tiniest things like untangling your headphone wires (if your have them) or charging your phone when it gets low

If you tease him about it, he’ll just tell you he’s doing you a favor (because he is)

Which is also why he’s good at dealing with bad mental health

He knows. Better than anyone.

So he never lets it get bad

When times are hardest for you, he goes out of his way a little more.

He’ll clean up the big messes he normally lets you take care of in order to prevent a depression room (he knows it can be overwhelming)

He’ll create a copy of the notes from your classes for you in case you didn’t feel like it

And even though he knows you might hate it, he always has you up at a decent time

On school days, it’s so you have enough time to get ready and eat (looking good can help you feel good)

On weekends it’s to go on runs and/or train

And if you complain?

“I’m doing you a favor.”

He really is.

[verybarbarianpuppy2]

Sriracha tuna with rice, shaved cucumbers, and chili oil with seaweed to fold it in

Buldak carbonara ramen 🍜 with low fat mozzarella cheese and a soft-boiled egg

Brown sugar cinnamon latte with Dr. Prager’s veggie patty, 1 slice wheat toast, and two eggs 🍳

Kodiak pancake mix with milk microwaved for two minutes : topped with frozen blueberries 🫐 and peanut butter with a dirty chai latte ☕️

Some more mealspo but bigger portions! Could be OMADs if that’s your thing! They’re also pretty high in protein! 💕🫶🏼

Also if you want my specific recipes for any of my meals or drinks feel free to ask!!

[thecapricunt1616]

Kinktober Day 11 🎃

𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛 (𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭): “Jus’ one more come on, one more an’ you can let go. Proteins, Carbs, Lipids annndd-” Lip continues to curl his fingers in just the right way. You’d been holding back for what felt like forever.  “Fffuck- fuck- I don’t know!” you said desperately, rubbing over your face and toes curling into the sheets.  “It always fucks you up. C’mon babygirl, it has 2 parts” he said and you sighed in relief “Fucking nucliec acids- shit!” You cried as you let go, gushing over his fingers and thighs quivering as you finally were able to let go.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hi everyone! Welcome to Kinktober day 11/31! I hope you enjoy todays rendition of kinktober with our prince Lip Gallagher! If you'd like to see my schedule/masterlist for this celebration click right 🎃here🎃; & if you'd like to also check out my masterlist for Promptober 2024 click right 🦇here🦇. & If you'd like to be added to the taglist for either celebration, comment on the according masterlist & I will add you! 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.0k+ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Orgasm denial, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Swearing 𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬: @/𝘀𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗸𝗮-𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗰𝘀 & @/𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗰𝘀

“Jus’ one more come on, one more an’ you can let go. Proteins, Carbs, Lipids annndd-” Lip continues to curl his fingers in just the right way. You’d been holding back for what felt like forever. 

“Fffuck- fuck- I don’t know!” you said desperately, rubbing over your face and toes curling into the sheets. 

“It always fucks you up. C’mon babygirl, it has 2 parts” he said and you sighed in relief

“Fucking nucliec acids- shit!” You cried as you let go, gushing over his fingers and thighs quivering as you finally were able to let go. 

“That’s it baby, let’s see you forget that one again mmm?” he chides with a bit of a chuckle as he worked you through, tonguing and lapping over your clit. You took deep, panting breaths as the aftershock of your orgasm came in waves. Your hips twitched and bucked, Lip huffing a chuckle of satisfaction into your flesh and slowing his fingers to let you catch your barings.

“Ready for the next one?” he rests his chin on your mound, big blue eyes blown wide with lust, little rings of icy turquoise around his pupils. You swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath and nodding. 

“I better ace this test, Gallagher.” You said with a small smirk and he hummed, continuing his ministrations inside of you, brushing the pads of his fingers over your g-spot in such a way you weren’t sure how you were recalling any of the information he was asking you for, but it was working and that’s all that mattered at this point.

He snorts a laugh, “I told you i’ve tutored many students, this has proven to be my best method of training you to recall information when it counts, so- let’s see” he looked at the study guide next to his thigh he’d stolen from your bookbag to convince you to try this method of ‘studying’ 

“What is the monomer of carbohydrates? There can be 3, and I need their official name” he smirks as you groan in exasperation. 

“Lip! These ones are hard- jesus” you sigh in pleasure as he brings his lips to your clit, sucking lightly as he continued to use his forefinger and middle finger to assault your g-spot. 

“Tha’s the point pretty girl, the harder the better” he muttered before sucking on your fold lightly to let you think properly and you sighed out, racking your brain. 

“Glucose and Fructose are 2 of them- the third always- ah- mmmmhmm like that” you whine, back arching off the bed as he adds another finger and pumps them in tandem faster with lapping over your clit. 

“Tha’s right baby one more c’mon you got it” he urges, resting his cheek on your thigh as he focused on the rhythm of his fingers. 

“It’s- uh- mmm- starts with a g?” you asked pathetically, hands frantically grabbing at the sheets since he’d buzzed his hair you no longer had that to ground you during moments like this. 

“Good girl, It does start with a G, c’mon now you got it really think princess” he praises, Large nose bridge stimulating your clit as he sucked and lapped at your folds while his fingers continued curling and working your core, small whimpers and whines being torn from your throat to add to the symphony of lewd wet noise coming from your core as he worked his fingers.

“Galactose- galactose-” you laugh when you finally find it, quickly turning into a moan and he hums in approval over your clit causing your hips to buck at the overstimulation it brought while he pressed the pads of his fingers to your g-spot.

“Tha’s right pretty girl, you remember what I told you how to remember that one?” he asked and you smiled lazily, fully lovesick and fucked out 

“Galactose like galactic, galaxies cause I love space” you said and he gave you a long kiss, the taste of your tang lingering on his tongue causing you to hum in pleasure. 

“Tha’s right, my smart girl” he praised and you blushed, grabbing his wrist, looking up at him with pleading eyes you always used to get your way since you knew he could never deny them.

“I want you inside me” you said sweetly, fluttering your lashes for added effect. He chuckled, rolling his eyes and easing his fingers out of you, bringing them to your lips. 

“Clean up y’mess, then we can talk ‘bout it” he said and you eagerly opened your mouth, sucking on the three of his fingers and moaning to sweeten the deal, swirling your tongue around his fingers the way that he liked. 

“Fuckin’ hell” he breathed out, watching you with hooded lids, thoroughly drinking in the sight in front of him. “See how good you taste? How fuckin sweet” He purred, thrusting his fingers into your mouth further, touching the back of your throat until you gagged and coughed in his hand, a minx like smirk on his lips. “Goood girl” he purred “Gotta get my dick wet f’you want me t’fuck you, right?” he chided teasingly, pushing his plaid pajama pants down just enough to let his cock free before removing his fingers from your lips and coating his cock in the saliva you’d so gracefully been forced to put in his palm.

“That wasn’t nice” you said, wiping your chin and looking up at him with swollen, kiss bitten lips as he knelt a knee on the bed, pulling you by the hips swiftly in one long drag down the bed causing you to gasp and giggle a bit. 

“I know, I just like seein’ you gag sometimes, sue me you look pretty with your eyes all teary like this” he chides, rubbing the head of his cock over your clit causing a breathy sigh to leave your lips, a small smirk forming

“Your nose is wet” you teased with a giggle, reaching up and brushing your slick off the tip of his nose. He caught the pad of your thumb in his mouth sucking it clean and lining himself up before thrusting inside with one long motion, your hips flush together.

“Savin’ a snack for later” he said jokingly.

Fin

Tag List: @automaticllamacycle - @carmenberzattosgf - @daysofyellowroses - @mouseymilkovich - @galactiicpup - @gallaghersgal - @maggiesarchives - @carmybrainworms - @l4long-winded - @babyspiderling - @southsideserendipity - @djlnkaled

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 12

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You open the cupboard and rummage through the contents. Rice crackers, no. Protein powder, please. You scoff and find what looks to be chocolate but as you rip the wrapper open and bite into it, the bitterness nearly gags you. You rush to the sink and spit it out. 

“Glad to see you making yourself at home,” Steve muses from the doorway. 

You look to him and fold the wrapper back around the bar. You scowl and go to put it back. You shake your head. 

“I’m starving,” you say. “So hungry it hurts.” 

You rub your stomach as a wave of dizziness bobbles your head. Between waves of nausea and fatigue, the ravenous need consumes you. You search around, forgetting him for the pang in your stomach. You pull open the fridge and pull out the yogurt. You peel the lid off and grab the sugar dish and pour it into the container. 

“Woah, woah, that’s not good for the baby,” Steve rushes forward. 

“Don’t,” you warn as you slide open drawers in search of a spoon, “do you have pickles?” 

“Pickles? With yogurt?” 

“I’m fucking hungry!” You growl, a surge of rage searing through your veins as you grab a spoon. “If I have to be here, let me eat, at least.” 

“I don’t mind you eating, but you gotta be careful--” 

“Pickles,” you remind him. 

“Don’t got any, sorry. But I can go grab some, I guess. If you make a list--” 

He gets closer and you recoil. You wave your hand at him and plug your nose, “don’t come any closer.” 

“Excuse me?” He grimaces. 

“Your cologne or something. It’s setting me--” 

You spin and hold the spoon behind you as you puke into the sink. Your body lurches with each violent wretch. The bile does little to deter your appetite. You simply rinse out your mouth and the sink and go back to the hunt for satiation. 

“They said the symptoms will probably be worse than usual,” he leans on the counter and watches you. “Nausea, hunger, hormones...” 

“Goddamn? Ice cream? Do you have ice cream?” You snarl down at the freezer drawer. 

“I’m not much of a sweets guy.” 

“No pickles, no ice cream. Baking chocolate and sour yogurt.” You rant. 

“I told you, I’ll go get you some stuff-” 

“Then go.” You snap. 

“Hey, watch it.” 

“Or what?” You face him defiantly. “I’m carrying your baby, Steve Rogers, so you can’t do shit.” 

“I can do whatever needs to be done. You might require bedrest.” 

“Bedrest? I’m fine.” You insist and turn your back to him. 

“You’re tearing apart my kitchen and slathering like a dog,” he reproaches. 

“Slathering like a dog? Tell me again about how in love you are.” You snip, “Jeez.” 

“I didn’t mean—honey, sweetheart, I’m just trying to help you settle. We both gotta learn to live with each other. We only got seven months or so to do so.” He crosses his arms as you pull out the loaf of bread and load the toaster. 

“Hmm, you know what will help me settle in? Peanut butter and jelly. Oh and cream cheese. Mmph, yes,” you march around the kitchen and grab the butter. “Also, oreos--bagels!” 

“Okay, I’ll head out,” he sniffs and shifts flat on his feet. 

“Great,” you go back to the toaster as the scent of the browning bread drives you wild. 

He approaches you from behind and you do your best to ignore him. You bounce on your heels impatiently and tap your fingers. You stiffen as he rests his hands on your hips. You have nowhere to go. 

“A kiss before I go?” He asks. 

You hold back a heave, “I just puked.” 

“I don’t care,” he squeezes, “please. It’s been a while since that night. I’m a bit... neglected.” 

You lock your jaw and stare at the tiled wall. You force the tension out and steel yourself. You turn to him and your insides coil uncomfortably. 

“Fine,” you croak. 

He leans in and presses his lips to yours. You hold back an eruption of disgust. Objectively, he’s handsome. He is the great golden Captain America but you’ve seen the real him. You’ve seen his callousness, his cruelty. You have witnessed his delusion. You wonder if the serum did that too. 

The toast pops and you tear away just as his tongue pokes out. You grab the butter knife and take the lid off the container. You slide out a hot slice and spread the dairy across it. He sighs and looms close. 

“Anything else I can get?” He asks. 

“Just food. Lots of food,” you say as you shove a piece of toast in your mouth. “Mmm, ohmagrddddd.” 

“Alright, I’ll be back. Call me if you need anything.” 

“Sure,” you munch loudly.

Maybe that will keep him away. If you can make yourself as gross as possible, you won’t have to worry about him begging for kisses and touches. Right now, you don’t want anyone near you. 

[vicinea]

Gimme gimme wolverine x reader scenarios or fic ideas PLEASE….

Logan X reader are in a friends with benefits style relationship and it could be told from either POV.

Logan realizes he caught feelings and tries to show reader… without actually tell them… you just know he doesn’t do emotional talks 😂

A/N: anon... that last scenario gave me a neuron activation moment, holy shit. — pairing: logan x gn!reader. — summary: logan is an absolute FOOL in love, but he cannot for the life of him express it verbally. short, sweet headcanons. — warnings: N/A.

y’know how cats sometimes leave random things as a lil gift for their owners and shit? yeah, logan would definitely do something like that.

HE goes into the kitchen to snatch up a cold beer and slide it over to you, nodding at the bottle before he opens his own, gaze averted to literally anything else but you as he downs the alcohol. for now.

oh, you smoke? PAUSE. logan almost drops his zippo lighter as he tries to be as quick as possible about lighting the cigarette for you — attempting, and absolutely failing, to give you subtle glances when it’s lit.

speaking of his goddamn glances. he thinks he is so slick.

practically stares at you sometimes when he thinks you won’t notice. but you absolutely fucking do — there’s a scowling man just sitting in the corner being all eyes on you like you’re some kind of weird creature, and you’re not gonna notice?

oh, fuck. you can’t find something after searching for what feels like hours? logan’s got it. he’s silently shifting around the place to look for whatever you’ve lost until he finds it, leaving the item in a painfully obvious spot for you to find.

you mention being hungry as just a passing comment? there’s a protein bar where you sat on the sofa after you left the room, straight up materialising out of thin air. the thing you complained about being out of stock at the local store? logan is absolutely listening, making sure to stock up on whatever the thing is when you’re out doing me-stuff.

speaking of logan listening. he does it so intently, sometimes even taking lil notes and keeping them tucked away somewhere in his bedroom as a reminder of what you like, dislike, want, and need.

“i never took you for liking [x] thing.” he did, he literally has a little post-it note hidden away in his wallet, the paper slightly worn, and ink fading from how often he brings it out to add more stuff to it. silently making sure you’re eating and resting enough? you BET he’s looming around like a shadow in the background, taking note of when you last had a full, decent night of sleep. oops, what’s this? a midnight snack? fucking crazy! who put it there?

then, when you finally crack and mention his unusual behaviour with a quick, sarcastic, “y’know, you’re very subtle, logan.”

he just pauses, furrowed eyebrows and narrowed eyes blinking at you as if you just told him the most outlandish thing in the world — no, the entire universe. and with arms folded tightly over his chest, logan simply scoffs and grumbles in response before turning away — his heartbeat picking up ever-so-slightly.

i want him, your honour... i want that old, angry man.

[mystic-writings]

request: Your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and I couldn’t help but steal it for female!reader x hasan xxx

i've been thinking about this a lot recently ngl i don't know how i haven't written it yet so thank you for the request anon ily | also it does get like. a tad bit steamy toward the end but it's just making out tbh

his clothes | hasanabi x fem!reader | ~850 words

There were many perks to having a giant for a boyfriend. Being easily lifted from the ground for no reason was one of your favourites, and so was the fact that when you cuddled, Hasan either squished you completely or his arms secured you to his chest with a firm comfort you’d never experienced. But the best one was his clothes. 

Hasan was a fashionable guy, but he did own a fair share of t-shirts and hoodies. A lot of them were his merch designs, or things he’s owned forever, but somehow, all of them were extremely comfortable when you wore them. 

Since Hasan streamed so frequently, and you normally didn’t have much to do, you’d resort to getting things done around the house to keep yourself from going crazy. So far, you cleaned the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher with last night’s dinner mess, and cleaned the living room and the bedrooms. Quickly, you took Kaya outside to pee and fed her lunch, scratching the top of her head before going to the laundry room to tackle the load you put in the dryer this morning. 

It was all a mix of yours and Hasan’s clothes, since you sorted all of it by colours, whites, and darks. Staring into the basket of clothes you pulled out and were now folding was like looking into an abyss. Most of it was yours, leggings and hoodies and socks. But a few items were your boyfriends. Including his himbo gym shirt. Even just holding it up to fold it, you could tell it was huge. 

Then, an idea sprouted in your mind, one that you couldn’t resist. Peeling off the shirt you were wearing, you threw on the one in your hands. Instantly, you were swimming in it, the hem of it nearly reaching your mid-thigh. If you chose to wear shorts instead of black leggings this morning, they wouldn’t have been visible under the shirt. 

After that, you continued with laundry, folding it and bringing it all upstairs to put it away. Once it was done, you took some time to decompress with Kaya, watching tv with her head on your lap, sleeping peacefully. Faintly, you could hear Hasan shouting upstairs; whether he was grilling chat or yelling about whatever he was covering, you didn’t know. It quieted just as you headed to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. 

Checking your watch as you unscrewed the cap, you realised that Hasan was probably taking the ad break. And as if your thoughts summoned him, you could hear his footsteps clamouring down the stairs, headed right to you. 

“Babe, do we have any more of those chocolate protein bars left? I’m starving-” he stopped himself short at the sight of you, practically drowning in his shirt. 

You smiled at him, screwing the cap back on your water bottle. “We should, I saw some in the cupboard last night.” When you noticed Hasan still staring at you, your smile widened. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just-” Hasan seemed to shake out of his stupor. “God, you look amazing in my shirt.”

You giggled as he approached you, hands instinctively resting on your hips as he pulled you closer, towering over you. “I was doing the laundry and it just looked so much more comfortable than the one I was wearing,”

Hasan sighed and leaned into you, forehead resting on the top of yours as his eyes shut. “God, I love you. You know that?”

“I think I do. Might need some reminding, though.” You spoke quietly, keeping the words between the two of you, as if anyone else could hear. 

Hasan was quick with his actions, instantly capturing your lips with his. There was no denying the passion and love he poured into the kiss, which quickly turned into peppering kisses all over your cheeks and jaw. With his hands still on your hips, Hasan guided you to the counter, pinning you there gently as his lips travelled to your neck and your hands into his hair. 

You often treasured moments like these, when Hasan wasn’t afraid to show his love for you in any capacity. Even if the moments happened often. 

But it didn’t take long for you to remember what he was supposed to be doing instead of this. Tugging his hair, you brought Hasan’s lips back to yours, muttering between kisses. “As much as I love this, and I really do, aren’t you supposed to be streaming?”

He groaned between kisses, unwilling to go back to his office to actually work. “I know, I know.” 

Slowly, he pulled away from you, and you stifled your giggles at his appearance. Still, he reached into the cupboard behind you for a protein bar and watched him jog his way back to his streaming room. 

The chat surely bullied him for his flushed cheeks, his swollen lips, and dishevelled hair. There was no doubt, though, that Hasan would have better comebacks than they did. And to him, it was entirely worth the few extra minutes he kept his chat waiting.