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I've had a reading block for a couple years now since my huge injury. I'm starting to get back into it lately. Last year I read 8 books, this year so far I completed 4 :)
If you could have any exotic animal as a house pet, what would you chose?
Oh this is such a hard question
Because like, so many, but also I know that none of them should be house pets!!!
So like. Hypothetically. In another universe probably. But I'd say racoon. They seem to be extremely intelligent animals. I've never seen one IRL and they don't live where I've lived so far in my life so to me it's exotic, fight me 🤣🤣
I've had a reading block for a couple years now since my huge injury. I'm starting to get back into it lately. Last year I read 8 books, this year so far I completed 4 :)
If you could have any exotic animal as a house pet, what would you chose?
Oh this is such a hard question
Because like, so many, but also I know that none of them should be house pets!!!
So like. Hypothetically. In another universe probably. But I'd say racoon. They seem to be extremely intelligent animals. I've never seen one IRL and they don't live where I've lived so far in my life so to me it's exotic, fight me 🤣🤣
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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my doctor prescribed me Zepbound last week. I take my second dosage tomorrow. havent had any major side effects... except the food noise is SILENT.'
i havent been thinking about food at ALL this week. it's so strange, considering im always snacking or eating food. but i've had ENOUGH of being fat and not being able to walk around my street.
i want to be fit, and I want to be able to breathe, I dont want to be in pain anymore. I'm able to sit and stand for long periods of time, i've noticed. I don't want to buy shoes every other month because my feet and weight are flattening my insoles so quickly.
Starting this journey, i am currently 232.2 pounds. (as of October 17, 2024.)
I took my first dose this past Thursday and the appetite suppression was immediate for the first two or so days. The “food noise” in my head is GONE. I’ve had a couple headaches and some gas/burps/acid reflux.
I don’t see any changes yet (not surprising, honestly.)
Precovid I weighed 165 pounds. But a LOT of traumatic and emotional things have happened to me around 2018-2019 and I gained ALOT of weight up until this year.
I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been. I’m a severely emotional eater and my hubs knows this. But almost within the hour of me taking my first dose, the food noise in my brain stopped. I don’t travel to my kitchen for snacks every half hour. I don’t find myself thinking of food nearly as often as I did this time last week.
Besides the acid reflux and constipation, I don’t have major symptoms yet.
Pre Covid I weighed around 165. I’m now 245. I’ve gained almost 100 pounds from 2019 to now. I know the weight isn’t as severe as a lot of other folks on here. But I was a SMALL child/teen/young adult. Before 2018, my heaviest was 140.
Idk what I’m rambling about. Just nervous for my second shot tomorrow.
currently a hiatus. off from work until the 21st when summer school starts for the students & then i work every other week.
i've been wanting to return to tumblr but this place distresses me so bad. nobody talks, nobody interacts. so im just most likely not returning from hiatus. i have posst that shwo where y'all can find me.
my mental health has been up and down for several months and im just over it.
i have absolutely no desire to return to this hellhole, or writing as of this current moment.
If you could have any exotic animal as a house pet, what would you chose?
Oh this is such a hard question
Because like, so many, but also I know that none of them should be house pets!!!
So like. Hypothetically. In another universe probably. But I'd say racoon. They seem to be extremely intelligent animals. I've never seen one IRL and they don't live where I've lived so far in my life so to me it's exotic, fight me 🤣🤣
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Summary: With the news of your pregnancy, Nick vows to leave the life behind in order to keep his growing family safe. [WC 991] [Ao3]
Warnings: fluff, mob au, pregnancy
Request: @saiyanprincessswanie I have a request for a fanfic of Mob!Nick Fowler x reader where they find out they’re having a baby and he becomes more protective of her. Possibly thinks of leaving the mob for good.
The test is still sitting on the bathroom counter when he finds it. Two pink lines. Bright. Unmistakable. Nick doesn’t touch it at first. He just… stands there in the doorway, broad shoulders filling the frame, like the room got too small for him all at once. Like something inside him—something dangerous and controlled and carefully locked down—just cracked open.
“Nick?” Your voice is soft from the bedroom, uncertain. You’ve been waiting. Listening for his reaction.
That’s what pulls him out of it. He exhales slowly, runs a hand over his mouth, and finally steps forward. Picks the test up. Looks at it closer this time, like maybe it’ll change if he stares hard enough. It doesn’t. He lets out a quiet, almost disbelieving huff of a laugh. “…We’re having a baby.” It’s not a question.
When he walks back into the bedroom, you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, hands clenched in your shirt, eyes searching his face like you’re bracing for something—fear, anger, doubt.
Nick sees it immediately. And it guts him. “Hey,” he says, softer than you’ve ever heard him. “Hey, none of that.” He crosses the room in a few strides and crouches in front of you, big hands coming up to hold your face, grounding you. “Look at me.”
You do.
“I’m not mad,” he says firmly. “I’m not… running, or whatever the hell you think.” His thumb brushes under your eye. “You kidding me? That’s—” he shakes his head, almost smiling, overwhelmed. “That’s mine. That’s ours.”
Your breath stutters. “You’re… happy?”
Nick lets out a low laugh, something rough and real. “Terrified,” he admits. “But yeah. Yeah, I’m happy.” He presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes for a second like he needs to steady himself. Then his hand slides down, slow, almost reverent, to rest against your stomach. Something shifts in him right there.
You feel it.
Nick has always been protective—dangerous men are, it comes with the territory—but this is different. This is deeper. Quieter. Colder. More final. “You’re not going out alone anymore,” he mutters, already thinking ahead. “No more late nights. No more—hell, I’m getting someone with you when I can’t be there.”
“Nick—”
“No,” he cuts in, but his voice isn’t harsh. It’s firm. Unmovable. “You don’t get it. This isn’t just you now.” His hand presses a little more firmly over your stomach, like he’s shielding something already. “This is everything.”
—
The change is immediate. It’s in the way he walks—closer to you, always between you and the door, the street, anyone who looks twice. It’s in how his hand never really leaves you anymore, always resting at your back or your hip or low on your stomach like he needs constant reassurance you’re still there.
Alive. Safe.
His guys notice. They see the way Nick’s temper shortens, the way he doesn’t tolerate mistakes anymore. The way one wrong move gets you a look that could end careers… or lives.
“Boss has something to lose now,” someone mutters one night. They’re right. And that makes him more dangerous than ever.
—
But at home? He’s different. Softer in ways he doesn’t let anyone else see.
You wake up one night to find him sitting beside you, lamp on, just… watching you. “Nick?” you mumble.
He startles slightly, like he didn’t expect to be caught. “Go back to sleep,” he says quietly.
You push yourself up on your elbows, squinting at him. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
He hesitates. Then his hand comes to your stomach again, gentle. “Just making sure,” he says.
“Of what?”
His jaw tightens slightly. “That you’re still here in the morning.”
The words hang heavy between you. You sit up fully now, reaching for him. “Nick…”
He exhales, shaking his head like he said too much. “I’ve buried people for less than what I do every day,” he mutters. “I’ve made enemies that don’t forget. And now—” his hand spreads over you again, protective, possessive in the quietest way. “Now I got you. And a kid on the way.”
You take his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “We’re not going anywhere,” you whisper.
His eyes search yours like he wants to believe that. Like he doesn’t. “…I might leave it,” he says suddenly.
You blink. “Leave… what?”
“All of it.” His voice is low, serious. “The business. The jobs. The whole damn thing.”
That does shock you. Nick doesn’t walk away from things. Nick is the thing people don’t walk away from. “Nick… you built this.”
“I know.”
“And you’d just—what? Walk away?”
His gaze drops back to your stomach. “For them?” he says quietly. “Yeah.” There’s no hesitation. No doubt. Just that same terrifying certainty he brings to everything—except now it’s pointed in a different direction.
Not violence.
Not power.
You.
Your future.
Your child.
“I don’t need the money,” he continues. “Don’t need the reputation. All that does is paint a target on your back.” His jaw tightens. “I’m not raising my kid in that.”
You swallow hard. “You really mean that.”
He looks at you like it’s obvious. “I’d burn the whole thing down if it meant you were safe.”
Your breath catches at that—at the intensity, the promise, the quiet threat underneath it.
And then he softens again, just for you. His thumb brushes your cheek. “You’re not losing me,” he says. “You’re gaining a version of me nobody else gets.”
You lean into him, heart full and aching all at once. “Good,” you whisper. “Because they don’t deserve you.”
He huffs softly at that, pulling you into his chest, one arm wrapped tight around you, the other still resting protectively over your stomach. “Yeah,” he murmurs against your hair. “Only you do.” And for the first time in a long time, Nick Fowler starts planning a future that doesn’t involve blood.
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The room smelled faintly of his cologne, sharp and clean, mixing with the faint undertone of his nervous energy. Zemo sat stiffly on the leather armchair, fingers curled into the armrests, jaw tight, and eyes dark with a storm you could practically taste.
“Do you know why you’re trembling?” you asked softly, circling him like a predator savoring every detail. “Because you’re desperate. And I’m going to make it worse before you get any relief.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, trying to maintain composure. He nodded once, barely, but the subtle quiver of his shoulders betrayed him.
You leaned in, letting your fingers brush over the jacket, teasing the fabric just enough to make him shiver. Your hand traced down the length of his tie, over his chest, skimming buttons and seams, and then hovered over his waistband. “Patience, Zemo,” you whispered, your lips brushing his ear. “I control when you get to feel good.”
He swallowed hard, gaze fixed on you, body tense like a bowstring. Your fingers slid inside the waistband of his trousers, gliding through the thin layer of fabric, teasing him without fully touching. His breath hitched, a low sound escaping his throat.
“Ah… that’s it,” you murmured, fingers ghosting over him. “So sensitive. So eager to obey. You want this… don’t you?”
His eyes flickered, dark, heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide. A strangled, quiet “Yes…” escaped him, almost shameful, almost desperate. You smiled and increased the pressure slightly, palm pressing over the fabric, teasing, circling, never giving him the release he craved.
“You’re not allowed yet,” you said softly, and he groaned, arching slightly against your touch. You let your hand rest there for a moment, watching him squirm, watching the subtle flush creep up his neck. “I said… not yet.”
Minutes passed like this, your teasing never stopping—circling, pressing, stroking through the fabric of his pants, letting him hang on the edge again and again. He jerked sharply with every subtle touch, each time closer, each time barely holding back.
“Do you feel me, Zemo?” you whispered, fingers brushing more insistently now. “Do you feel how much control I have over you? How much you want me?”
His body was trembling now, hands clawing at the armrests. You pressed harder, moving your palm in slow, deliberate circles over the fabric, the heat from his arousal pressing back through the cloth. A sharp, strangled cry escaped him, muffled against his jaw as his first orgasm hit, hard, right through his pants.
But you didn’t stop. Oh no—you only leaned closer, letting your fingers roam again, sliding, pressing, teasing him mercilessly, making him twitch and whimper. His second release came quicker, a shuddering mess of desperation spilling into the fabric, and yet he tried to maintain composure, trembling against you.
“Such a good boy,” you murmured, hand resting against his chest now as you watched his rapid breathing. “So obedient. So easy to push… you feel so good like this.”
You continued your teasing, slow, torturous, alternating between soft, ghosting touches and firmer pressure, keeping him on the edge, never letting him fall fully. Each groan, each strained breath only made you smile, a mixture of affection and control.
Finally, after what felt like hours but was only minutes, he gave in completely, a final shuddering climax wracking his body. He collapsed back into the chair, pants damp, face flushed, lips parted as he tried to catch his breath.
You pressed a hand gently to his forehead, letting your fingers trace his hairline. “Shh… shh… it’s okay,” you whispered, voice soft, gentle. “You did so well.”
He leaned into your touch, exhausted, shivering slightly. His chest heaved, hands loose at his sides, and finally, he allowed himself to be vulnerable in a way only you ever saw.
You pressed a soft kiss to his temple, trailing down to his cheek. “I’m proud of you,” you murmured, brushing the damp hair from his forehead. “You’re mine… and I’ll always take care of you.”
He exhaled shakily, murmuring something indecipherable, a soft, breathless sound of relief and gratitude. You wrapped him in your arms, letting him relax fully, holding him close, murmuring soft praise, brushing lips over his temple, his hair, whispering every word like a secret only he could hear.
Eventually, his breathing slowed, the tremors fading, leaving only the warmth of shared intimacy and trust. You pressed one last kiss to his forehead, fingers threading through his hair.
“Next time…” you teased lightly, voice soft but teasing. “We might see just how many times I can make you come before you even touch me.”
A low, exhausted chuckle rumbled from him, and you knew, even as he melted against your chest, that he’d follow your rules without question… and secretly, he couldn’t wait for more.
