#these are really little and simple but whatever

[internerdionality]

So, I have historically used a meal service, because for much of the last five years I've been working 50-60 hours a week for a tech startup in addition to running a household with five varyingly disabled people and... yeah. Saving brain energy for meal planning and shopping hasn't been a huge priority. This isn't a plug for meal services, just an explanation for why my go-to simple recipes these days are all from Hello Fresh. All these recipes come built for 2 or 4 people (just use the slider on top), but are easy to double if you're cooking for a whole group.

"Mexican" (not really) chicken rice bowl — the "southwest" spice blend is two parts garlic powder, one part chile powder, one part cumin. I usually replace the long green pepper with 3X serrano peppers (they're little) because I'm a spicy bitch and also my grocery store doesn't carry whatever pepper HF usually sends. You can also sub 2X jalapeños if you're a bit less enamored of spice than me, or an equal amount of anaheim or bell pepper if you want it super mild. I also sub out chicken thighs for breasts and usually double the turmeric. When I make this for my whole household plus, I split the chicken and peppers into two pans so I can make one hotter than the other.

Teriyaki pork rice bowl — This one is SO easy and yummy, I've successfully made it at midnight while drunk off my ass and got lots of compliments and requests for the recipe (look, I was hosting a game night and we ran out of pizza). Again, I usually sub out a spicier pepper and like. Quadruple the garlic? I also don't add the extra sugar. I do usually just keep a bottle of premade teriyaki sauce on hand but if you don't just use some ginger paste (I keep a tube of it on hand), soy sauce, mirin if you have it (also really good to have on hand), even more garlic, some kind of sweetener (honey's great) and cornstarch or flour to thicken.

Pork taquitos — So, HF doesn't share their tex-mex paste recipe and the copycat recipes involve like, two hours of prep, it's ridiculous. So instead of doing that I just get chorizo from the grocery store instead of ground pork and add some tomato paste concentrate. These are also totally yummy plain, without the guac and tomato/onion mixture on top, or you can serve with whatever your favorite texmexy dip is. I also usually turn halfway through baking to make sure they get evenly crispy.

Do any of u have decent recipes that are like 5 ingredients (not including spices) and take 45 mins or less to prepare i gotta stop eating sandwiches for dinner

[savanir]

A sister's love

The justice league hurriedly responds to a call for backup at a little in the middle of nowhere place by the name of Amity Park. 

The situation had seemed so simple. 

A Star Sapphire had suddenly shown up on Earth which isn’t immediately cause for concern but she was unidentified, so a lantern was definitely going to have to look into it if only just to make sure that nothing bad was going on. There are two planet side green lanterns, Simon and Jessica. So they responded to handle the potential situation. 

Things rapidly spun out of control when they realized it wasn't just a Star Sapphire. 

"I hate to say this but we're gonna need backup" Simon tells Cyborg, "the Star Sapphire has brought something with her. My first guess was a white martian but..." The other one can do some manner of density shifting, and he can go invisible, but they know ways around that. Whatever this one is doing isn’t that though.

"Why isn't this working!?!" Comes Jessica's slightly panicked voice in the distance, "he keeps just going through my creations! dammit, think think Jess" She tried to contain him with a flamethrower construct but he just ignored it, like he’s seemingly ignoring everything else she’s throwing at him.

"Our constructs have zero effect on the other one, the alien, meta? man I don’t know he’s human shaped" 

"What is the situation other than the two hostiles?"

"Uh we got some government agents who are retreating because of the Star Sapphire wrecking their stuff. And the civilian people here seem to be falling under her influence, so she must be human. She's from here, she needs emotional connection to pull that stuff off."

The people are furious, the violet glow around them clearly indicates that the girl is using her ring to amp them up but if Simon didn’t know any better he’d say this was red lantern stuff.

Well there are more ways to whip people up into a frenzy, by hurting their loved ones for example.

There is a brief moment where it can be heard that Simon and Jessica try to get into a more advantageous position. 

Simon grunts, "dammit, those agents seemed to have weapons that actually worked on the other guy but the Star Sapphire used her violet constructs to shield him and destroy their guns and we've been struggling since" this whole situation stinks, he has a weird feeling about all of it.

"Simon this is really really bad, i can't keep restraining all these civilians, we're running out of energy fast!"

Cyborg tries to get a visual on the situation from his position in the Watchtower while he’s notifying any league affiliated heroes who are nearby and available. 

But all of a sudden he realizes there is just nothing, just a big lap of void where the two lanterns are supposed to be, there is no cctv footage, no cell towers, no internet connection. Just what the hell is going on here.

Then the audio transmission starts to violently crackle.

A new voice laced with static can suddenly be heard, "There you two are"

"Shit"

"Is the justice league coming yet? Are they finally going to do something?" the staticy voice continues.

"Stay back you-"

"Or maybe they still need more of a reason to act" 

The audio cuts out. 

"Jessica! Simon! Come in!" ... "Shit!" 

Cyborg finally gets a clear picture with the satellite cameras and now sees the entirety of Amity Park has been covered with a crystalized violet dome. It’s then that he remembers the story Hal told quite some time ago now about a Star Sapphire who managed to put a whole planet into love stasis.

They are gonna need more help with this one he thinks.

Meanwhile Jazz is still shakily trying to figure out how her new pink powers work, now that all the fighting is over (for now), the GIW forcefully expelled from Amity, and the two Justice league people captured and restrained.

Everything happened so fast, one moment the GIW had knocked out her brother and were forcefully taking him away and while she saw them drive off (she was pretty sure she was screaming) a pink thing just froze her in place, She was pretty sure someone said something about “great love in her heart” and then she was… well she was flying and- and there wasn’t really any time to question things then so she may have kinda gone and ripped into the van that had Danny.

She’s pretty sure she healed him, and then things just completely spiraled out of control from that point on. and now she’s here.

She’s pretty sure this is crazy villain behavior, she’s going to get put on some sort of watchlist and then she’ll never get to be a psychologist but it’s fine.

Her little brother is safe, that’s all that matters. And she will keep it that way.

[romugh]

HISTORY IN THE MAKING - nerd!NR

pairing- nerd!natasha romanoff x reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, gp!bottom!natasha, handjob (n rcv), blowie (n rcv), missionary, praise kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie? muaha... shy daddy!nat UGHH, kind of orgasm control & slight edging if you squint

wc- 5.4k

a/n- drabble turned fic as i worked my way through these exact history shenanigans a few days back... in the same INTIMATE STUDIES universe! might make this a cute lil thing :) this is very much NOT my best work, i might rework it a little bit just to make it flow a lil more! apologies if there are any repetitions, i tried to catch them, but my brain is fried :/

synopsis- natasha's helping you study russia's history, and the rest is history?? idk it's too late rn guys i'm going to sleep

taglist- @lost-mortemanghel ♥︎, @idkwhatever580, @elliecoochieeater, @left-and-right-up-and-down, @deadlesbianwitches, @lizziewitchy ❀, @simpforlizzie, @riyaexee

You’re sitting cross-legged on Natasha’s bed, staring down at a jumble of Russian history notes that you’re certain might as well be in Cyrillic themselves. The words swim on the page, stubbornly refusing to click in the way chemistry formulas or physics equations do. You press the back of your pen to your lips, glancing over at the figure hunched over the desk in the corner of the room.

Natasha is fully engrossed in her game, brows furrowed in concentration as her fingers fly across the keyboard. The light from her monitor casts a soft glow on her face, highlighting the curve of her cheek and the gentle bite of her lower lip. She’s wearing a simple white blouse tucked into a plaid skirt, her usual attempt to dress professionally for class long since abandoned in favour of cosy socks and a messy bun.

You can’t help but smile a little. The contrast between Natasha’s outward shyness and the intensity in her focus has always been something you found endearing. You met in the class you were currently trying to study for, back when you’d shown up late to Russian history, fumbling through an awkward introduction as the professor sighed and directed you to sit in the last free seat beside her. It had taken a few study sessions for you to get past her initial stammering, but now, you could ask her about anything and her eyes would light up, eagerly launching into whatever story or fact you were struggling to understand. But right now, that focus is directed entirely on her computer screen.

You clear your throat. “Natasha?”

“Hm?” She barely looks up, eyes quickly darting back to her screen.

“Nat,” you repeat, with a hint of a smile. “I need help with the comparison of Russia until 1917 and the West-European’s Ancien Régime. And… pretty much all the details, too.”

She gives a little sigh, half-distracted. “Mm. Yes, the parables are… very interesting, baby. Give me one second. I’m doing really well.”

You hold back a laugh. “Right, but I’m failing Russian history. Melina and Alexei will both kill me. So can you take a break?”

Her eyes don’t leave the screen. “I will, I promise. Just a few more minutes. I’m close to beating this level.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at her single-minded dedication. Her stubborn innocence, the way she always seems to be pulled between her gentle nature and her intense focus, has you mesmerised. But she can’t honestly think you’re going to wait forever.

“Natasha,” you say softly, standing and crossing over to her desk. Her gaze flicks up to you on her side, her big, doe-like eyes widening with an almost bashful look as you lean against the desk. “You’re seriously not going to help me?”

She blushes, biting her lip. “I really want to help,” she whispers, almost apologetic, “but, really, just a little longer? Please?”

There’s something about the sweet innocence of her pleading that has your heart racing. Her earnestness always has a way of drawing you in, those wide, round eyes like they’re begging for permission to keep playing, and her lips slightly parted in concentration. You tilt your head, taking in every detail of her—the slight blush dusting her cheeks, the faint glimmer of anticipation in her eyes, and the way her fingers clutch the keyboard just a little tighter, like she’s holding onto the game but secretly hoping you’ll take control.

You smile softly and reach for her chair, turning it around so she’s facing you. Her hands hover in the air, a brief look of panic on her face as she loses her place in the game. She opens her mouth to protest, but before she can say anything, you’re sliding onto her lap, straddling her, feeling the warmth of her strong thighs under you.

“Wait! You made me fall off the map!” Natasha squeaks, her voice a mixture of exasperation and a hint of excitement. Her hands instinctively find your hips, holding you as if she’s afraid you might slip away.

You give her a gentle smile, leaning in so that your faces are mere inches apart. “I thought you were going to help me study,” you murmur, your voice dropping to a soft, coaxing tone. You press your hands to her shoulders, letting your fingers trail along her collarbone, feeling the way her heartbeat quickens under your touch.

“I… I was,” she stammers, her cheeks flushing a deep pink, and you catch the slight tremble in her voice. “I just… my game.”

You tilt her chin up, making her meet your gaze, and she blushes even deeper, her fingers tightening their grip on your hips as her eyes grow wide, almost vulnerable. “Natty,” you say, your voice laced with playful patience, “I really need you to focus on me now. History, please.”

Her mouth opens slightly, as though she wants to argue, but all that comes out is a breathy whisper. “Okay.”

You hold Natasha’s gaze, the intensity in her eyes gradually overpowering her initial shyness. Her fingers rest on your hips, hesitant and yet possessive, as though she’s still trying to find some control in this position. Her breath catches each time you shift even slightly, and you can feel her heartbeat racing beneath your touch, each little change in her demeanour making her even more endearing.

You run your thumb along her jawline, feeling the delicate skin beneath, and she lets out a soft breath, her lips parting as she unconsciously leans into your touch. Her eyes flicker from yours to your lips, as if she’s desperately waiting for some kind of signal, a sign that she’s allowed to give in completely.

“Natasha,” you murmur, bringing your face close enough to feel her breath mingling with yours, “what are the key similarities, and how do the t<o regimes differ?”

She hums, her cheeks a soft shade of pink, but words seem to fail her. The hand on your hip trembles slightly, as though she wants to pull you closer but doesn’t dare to, not without permission. You feel the tension building, a mix of her nervousness and desire, and it only makes you want to pull her in even more.

Finally, you press a feather-light kiss to her cheek, just next to her ear, and whisper, “Come on, Natty. Think, please. Need your pretty self to explain it to me.”

She shivers under your touch, swallowing as she tries to remember the words. “Um… right, the… they didn’t have religious freedom,” she stammers, her voice barely above a whisper. The fingers on your hip dig in just slightly, a mix of nerves and need as she fights to keep her focus. “Orthodoxy– uh, there were lots of violent riots… against Muslims, but mostly Jews. Those were called pogroms and… oh…”

Her wordds trail off as you tilt her chin slightly, pressing another soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. Her blush deepens, and you feel the way her body responds, her tension giving way to a faint tremor as she tries to keep talking.

“You’re so good at this,” you whisper, guiding her with gentle encouragement. “But I’m going to need a little more focus from you if we’re going to get through all this history.”

Her breath catches, and she nods, biting her lip as she tries to concentrate. “I can focus,” she whispers, more to herself than to you, as though she’s trying to convince herself as much as you. Her gaze stays locked onto yours, her wide eyes full of innocence mixed with a yearning she can’t quite hide.

Her fingers finally slide up your sides, settling on the dip of your waist with a delicate grip, as though she’s terrified of doing too much, yet completely unwilling to let go. You smile softly, placing a hand over hers, squeezing in silent encouragement, and her blush deepens, her eyes darting away for just a second.

But you don’t let her break eye contact for long. Tilting her chin back to you, you brush your lips over hers in a kiss so soft it’s barely there, and she lets out a faint sigh, melting into the touch. Her grip tightens again, and you feel her breath hitch as you deepen the kiss just slightly, enough to make her toes curl beneath her chair.

“Tell me more,” you murmur, pausing just inches from her mouth, close enough that she can feel the heat radiating between you. “About the razzias. I want to hear you explain it.”

Her lips part, her mind clearly racing to catch up, but she manages a shaky breath. “They just were um, a…,” she stammers, her voice a mix of strained focus and barely-restrained excitement. Her hands start to relax, as though she’s finding confidence in your guidance. “They… uh– it’s a reckoning against religious ideals.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum in approval, your thumb tracing gentle circles on her cheek. “And then the revolution happened?”

Her eyes flicker down to your lips, and she swallows, her voice barely more than a whisper. “There were two revolutions, technically. First, the February Revolution, and then the radicalised October Revolution.”

Her words start to blur into soft breaths as you lean closer, the warmth of her skin against yours heightening with each delicate touch. You feel her legs shift under you, and a soft gasp escapes her when you shift your weight in her lap, pressing yourself against her in a way that’s both innocent and electric. Her lashes flutter, and her eyes grow hazy, the careful focus she was trying to hold onto slipping with each passing second.

“Good girl,” you murmur, your voice soft and affectionate. Her lips part in a faint, breathless smile, and you feel her chest rise as she takes in a shaky breath, her grip on you tightening just a little more.

You tilt her head back, keeping her gaze locked on yours, letting your fingers trail down her throat, feeling the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath your touch. Her eyes widen, a mixture of awe and anticipation in them as she watches your every move, her hands moving under your sweater like she’s trying to ground herself.

“Do you want to keep going?” you ask softly, running a finger along her jawline, watching the way her breath catches in response.

She nods, unable to find words, her cheeks flushed a deep pink. Her eyes hold that same innocent, almost pleading look, as though she’s begging you to take control, to guide her wherever you want.

You smile, letting your hand drift down from her jaw, fingers grazing along her collarbone, before you slowly trail down to her chest and stomach, where you can feel the rise and fall of her shallow breaths.

“Okay, baby,” you murmur, your words soothing yet commanding as you press a gentle kiss to her neck, feeling the way her pulse quickens under your lips. She shivers, a barely audible whimper escaping her lips, her wide eyes softening as she watches you, her gaze full of innocent trust.

“Natasha,” you whisper, drawing out her name like a gentle caress, “let me help you focus.” Her breath catches, and she gives a shaky nod, her hands tightening their grip on the chair. You slowly lower yourself from her lap, letting your hands slide down the smooth skin of her thighs, feeling the way her body tenses under your touch only to relax as you continue, inching her knees apart.

Her blush deepens, and you can feel her shyness mingling with anticipation as her skirt rides up, revealing the growing hardness pressing against the fabric of her boxers. You let your fingers trace along her inner thigh, watching the way she trembles slightly at each delicate touch. Her wide eyes remain fixed on yours, that blend of vulnerability and desire making your own heart race as you take her in.

“Relax for me,” you murmur, running your hands gently along her thighs. You reach up to brush your fingers over the fabric straining to hold her in, and her lips part in a soft, involuntary moan, her cheeks flushing even deeper as she squirms in her seat.

With slow, deliberate movements, you slide her underwear down, watching the way her member springs free, her blush turning crimson as she looks away for a moment, a mixture of nervousness and excitement flickering across her face. You press a gentle kiss along her inner thigh, easing her legs further apart and taking in her reactions, savouring each shiver, each small gasp that escapes her lips. When you move your mouth closer to her length, you look up at her, waiting until her gaze meets yours.

Once it does, you bring your mouth to her, pressing a feather-light kiss along her shaft, and her reaction is instant—her hips jerk slightly, and she lets out a trembling breath, her fingers clutching the arms of her chair as she tries to stay still. Her breath hitches with every movement, her wide eyes looking down at you, filled with both awe and that same sweet shyness that makes her all the more endearing.

Slowly, you take her into your mouth, your tongue gliding over her, humming at the way she gasps, her fingers gripping the chair so tightly her knuckles turn white. You can feel her body tense under your touch, the warmth of her length in your mouth, and the way she squirms with each gentle movement. Her breathing becomes ragged, her cheeks flushed as her lashes flutter, struggling to keep eye contact.

“Just relax, Natty,” you murmur between gentle caresses, pausing only to offer soft words of encouragement, letting her feel the warmth of your breath against her sensitive skin. “You’re doing so well.”

Her eyes soften further at your words, her lips parted in a soft, breathless smile as she gives a faint nod, her entire body melting under your touch. She lets out a quiet, shaky moan as you continue, her hips shifting involuntarily, her breath hitching each time your mouth moves a little deeper. The look in her eyes—vulnerable yet trusting—only fuels your desire to take her further.

You increase your pace just slightly, watching the way her eyes grow hazier with each passing second, her fingers now reaching out, finding your shoulder as if she needs something to hold onto. The desperation in her gaze, the slight whimpers that escape her lips, all signal how close she’s getting. You pause, pulling back just enough to look up at her, watching the way she struggles to catch her breath.

“You’re so good, Natasha,” you murmur, words muffled by her heat in you, enjoying the way she shivers under the praise. “But don’t let go just yet. I want to take my time with you.”

Her blush deepens at the command, and she nods, swallowing hard as she holds back, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to control herself. You press a soft kiss to her length, smiling at the way she bites her lip, her fingers still clutching your shoulder as she gives herself over to your touch.

With her breaths growing more ragged, you let your hand slide down her thigh, resting at the base of her length as you ease back, switching from the warmth of your mouth to the gentle grip of your hand. Natasha whimpers softly, her lashes fluttering as she watches you with that wide-eyed, innocent gaze. Her hands grip the arms of her chair for stability, her cheeks flushed and lips parted as you begin to stroke her slowly, savouring each reaction.

“Does that feel good, Natty?” you murmur, watching the way her eyes flutter closed for a moment as she nods, her entire body leaning toward your touch.

“Yes,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with a need she’s struggling to hold back. You watch the way her chest rises and falls, each shuddering breath making her more vulnerable, more open to your every move.

You increase the pressure slightly, your hand moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that has her toes curling, her wide eyes looking down at you with unguarded adoration. You can see how close she is, her face a mix of tension and awe as she clutches at her chair, her mouth falling open in a soft gasp when you switch back to your mouth, taking her in once again.

“Please,” she whispers, her voice trembling, barely audible. She shifts in her seat, her grip tightening as she fights to stay composed, though the desperation in her voice betrays her.

“You want more?” you murmur, pulling back just enough to look up at her, letting your breath ghost over her sensitive skin. She nods frantically, her gaze pleading, as though she’s ready to beg for you to keep going. Her vulnerability makes your heart race, and you lean back in, pressing soft, lingering kisses along her length before taking her in your hand again.

Each change between your mouth and hand drives her closer to that edge, her quiet, broken moans growing more frequent as her body responds to your every touch. You take your time, alternating between gentle strokes and teasing kisses, watching the way her resolve unravels completely. Her hips move instinctively, seeking more, her breath shallow and desperate.

Finally, you slow your pace, watching the way she shudders in response, her gaze hazy and her body fully at peace yet trembling in your hands. “I told you, Natty,” you whisper, pausing to press a kiss to her thigh, “I’m taking my time with you.”

She lets out a shaky exhale, her hands falling from the chair to clutch at your shoulders, her breathing still erratic as she tries to hold herself back. But you can see the way she’s teetering on that edge, fully surrendered to you.

As you continue to alternate between using your hand and mouth, her wide, vulnerable gaze grows more unfocused, her lips parting as her body instinctively responds to you. But just when you think she’s letting herself fall into your pace, you feel her fingers tangle in your hair, firm but trembling, gently pressing down, silently urging you to take her deeper.

The sudden assertiveness surprises you, but you comply, letting her guide you, feeling the way her grip tightens slightly, the desperation in her touch almost pleading. Her quiet whimpers grow louder, echoing in the room as she watches you, her gaze dark with fascination, completely enraptured by the sight of you surrendering to her need.

“Oh, please…” she murmurs, her voice a breathy whisper, barely containing herself. You feel her body shiver as you take her deeper, her soft gasp filling the air. Her eyes, usually so innocent and shy, are now dark with awe, wide and almost worshipful, as though she can barely believe what she’s seeing. She bites her lip, her face flushed, her expression somewhere between a plea and an apology, completely mesmerised by the sight of you.

Finally, feeling your control slip in her grasp, you tap her thigh, and she releases her grip on your hair immediately, looking down at you with that same innocent gaze, as if wondering if she’s overstepped. Her cheeks are flushed, her gaze shy once again, as she watches you with bated breath, clearly unsure of your next move.

Standing up slowly, you meet her gaze, your eyes smouldering as you reach down and slip off your underwear, letting the fabric fall to the floor before stepping out of it. Natasha’s eyes widen, her cheeks a deeper pink as her gaze travels from your face down the length of your body, lingering on the hem of your sweater as if transfixed by the contrast.

Before she can fully take in the sight, you reach for her, your fingers tangling in her hair as you tug her up from the chair, her body following your movements without hesitation. She gasps softly, her breath catching as she’s pulled to her feet, her wide, adoring eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“Strip for me,” you command, your voice low, leaving no room for argument. You release her hair, your touch lingering for just a second as you make your way to her bed, settling yourself atop her scattered history notes, the crinkling of the papers the only sound breaking the silence. She watches, her blush deepening, clearly entranced by the sight of you lying there, completely at ease and in control. Her hands go to the hem of her skirt, her fingers trembling slightly as she begins to undress, her gaze never leaving yours.

Natasha’s fingers tremble slightly as she slides off her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Her shirt soon follows, revealing the flushed skin of her chest and the slight rise and fall of her breath as she finally stands in front of you, completely exposed and vulnerable. Her eyes flicker between your gaze and your body sprawled out over her history notes, her cheeks flushed with both shyness and desire. You stretch out comfortably, your sweater rucked up just enough to tease her, watching her with that same confident, hungry look that’s left her at your mercy all evening.

“Come here, Natty,” you murmur, your voice firm but soft. She steps forward, her movements hesitant but her gaze locked on you, and you guide her down onto the bed until she’s hovering over you, her body settling between your legs. Her breath catches as she takes you in, her wide, adoring eyes drinking in the sight of you beneath her, looking up at her with that unwavering, confident smile that’s made her melt all night.

As Natasha hovers above you, her body fitting perfectly between your legs, you can feel the nervous tremble in her limbs, her cheeks flushed as she takes in the sight of you lying beneath her, waiting. Her wide eyes, so shy and adoring, sweep over your face and then down, drinking in every inch of your body, as though each glance leaves her more entranced. Her lips part slightly, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she steadies herself, hands resting tentatively on either side of you.

You reach up, cupping her face in your hands and guiding her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, feeling the heat radiate off her skin. She melts into you, her body instinctively pressing down, filling the space between you as her lips respond, moving tenderly yet hungrily, every kiss leaving her more breathless. With a gentle nudge, you guide her hips forward, feeling her length brush against your entrance, and she lets out a soft, broken gasp, her face flushed a deep pink as she begins to press into you.

You hum, running your hands through her hair, tugging gently to pull her closer, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. She gasps against your mouth, her lips parting as you deepen the kiss, feeling her shiver as she responds, her body pressing eagerly into yours. She lets out a soft, desperate moan as she slides inside, her hands gripping the sheets beside you.

“Oh,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper, her eyes fluttering shut as she feels the warmth of your body surrounding her, enveloping her in a way that leaves her trembling. Her breath hitches, and she clutches the sheets beside you, her hands forming tight fists as she adjusts to the feeling, her gaze filled with wonder as she looks down at you.

“Good girl,” you whisper, watching the way her face softens at the praise, her body shuddering as she begins to move, her hips rolling forward in slow, tentative strokes. You feel each careful movement, each deliberate inch of her body pressing into yours, her lips parted in a quiet moan, her eyes half-lidded as she loses herself in the rhythm, her shy gaze growing more intense with each passing second.

With every thrust, her body trembles, her gaze filled with a raw vulnerability as though she’s giving herself to you completely, utterly. She clutches the sheets even tighter, her breathing quickening, her eyes never leaving yours as she moves deeper, her breath coming in soft, desperate pants.

“That’s it, Natty,” you murmur, running a hand along her cheek, feeling the way her breath catches at your touch. “Just like that.”

Her lips part in response, a soft whimper escaping her as her hips begin to move faster, her body pressing into yours with a growing urgency that she can barely control. She shivers, the need and intensity in her gaze building with every touch, every whispered word of encouragement. Her lashes flutter as she looks down at you, her cheeks a deep shade of pink, her expression vulnerable, almost pleading, as though she wants more but can barely bring herself to ask for it.

“Right there, Daddy,” you murmur, your voice soft, just loud enough for her to hear. The word slips from your lips easily, and you watch the way her entire being responds—the tremor in her hips, the widening of her eyes, the soft, desperate whine that falls from her lips. Her face and neck flush a deeper, unmistakable red, and for a moment, she looks at you with pure, unguarded awe, her expression caught between disbelief and overwhelming need.

Her hands tremble, her hips stuttering as she takes in the title, her body pressing instinctively deeper as though the sound alone draws her closer to the edge. “Daddy,” you whisper again, watching her face as she loses herself in the word, her expression filling with a blend of shyness and barely contained desire.

“P-please…” she stammers, her voice trembling, almost breaking as she holds herself back, her body trembling with the strain of it. “I… I need…”

You reach up, running your hand through her hair, guiding her gaze back to yours. “It’s okay, Natty,” you murmur, your voice soft, coaxing. “You don’t have to hold back.”

Her wide eyes fill with a deep, unrestrained need, and she lets out a soft, shaky exhale, her hands sliding from the sheets to grip your waist, holding you as though grounding herself. Her movements grow more erratic, her hips pressing deeper, her body responding to every encouraging word, every touch, as though completely under your control.

As she moves, you see the way she loses herself in each thrust, her face flushed, her mouth open as her breath comes in ragged, desperate pants. She looks down at you with that same innocent, adoring gaze, but now, there’s something more—something raw, a hunger she can barely contain. Her hips press forward, filling you completely, her body shuddering as she reaches the edge, her wide eyes pleading, searching your gaze for permission.

“Come for me, Daddy,” you whisper, your voice soft but firm, and you feel the way her body reacts, her grip tightening on your waist as she shudders, her hips jerking forward in a desperate, trembling thrust. Her eyes close as she gasps, her head falling forward as she loses herself completely, spilling into you with a soft, broken moan, her body pressing close, clinging to you as though she’s never felt anything so intense.

As Natasha trembles on top of you, her body pressed close, you feel every soft, shivering breath she takes, the weight of her against you as she finally lets go, spilling into you. Her head dips forward, eyes tightly shut, her lips parted in a quiet, desperate gasp as she comes, the warmth of her release filling you, a slow, deep pulse that seems to steal the breath from her lungs. Her grip tightens on your waist as if she’s clinging to you, grounding herself in the sensation, her face buried in the crook of your neck.

You can feel her chest rising and falling against you, her breaths ragged and shallow as she lets out a soft whimper, the vulnerability in her voice making your heart swell. Her hips press forward with each wave, as though she wants to be as close to you as possible, feeling every inch of her warmth, every pulse, spill into you, marking you in a way that’s both intimate and utterly consuming.

Each pulse of her release sends a shiver through her, her breathing shallow and uneven as she slowly comes down from the high, her eyes fluttering open, looking down at you with a dazed, awestruck expression. She looks at you with a mixture of gratitude and worship, her cheeks still flushed, her lips parted in a soft, blissful smile.

You brush a hand along her cheek, and she leans into your touch, closing her eyes as she takes a deep, steadying breath, her hands still holding you close, as though she can’t bear to let go.

“Natty,” you murmur, running your hands through her hair, guiding her face up to meet your gaze. Her eyes open slowly, her lashes fluttering as she looks at you, her gaze soft, overwhelmed, filled with a raw, unguarded adoration that she can’t hide. Her face is flushed, her lips slightly parted, her expression completely mesmerised as though she can barely believe you’re here, beneath her, accepting every bit of her.

A soft, blissful smile tugs at her lips, her hand moving up to gently cradle your face as she leans in, pressing a delicate, lingering kiss to your lips, her breaths still heavy, warm. She holds you like this, savouring the closeness, the feel of you wrapped around her, the warmth of her release settling within you.

Finally, she shifts, her forehead resting against yours, her eyes wide, her breath still uneven, as though she’s only just starting to come back to herself. She looks at you with a mixture of awe and disbelief, her fingers tracing your jawline softly, reverently.

“I… I didn’t mean to…” she stammers, her face flushing deeper, her shy gaze flicking away for a moment.

But you smile, reaching up to cup her face, bringing her gaze back to yours, your voice soft and reassuring. “Natty… it’s okay,” you murmur, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “I wanted this, too. I asked.”

She lets out a soft, relieved exhale, her body relaxing as she sinks into you, her arms wrapping around you, holding you as though afraid to let go. You feel her heartbeat gradually slow, her warmth enveloping you, her gaze still soft, full of that same innocent awe as she watches you, completely lost in the moment.

As Natasha catches her breath, her fingers lingering on your skin as though afraid to break the closeness between you, she finally shifts to pull out, a soft, satisfied sigh escaping her lips. She watches with wide, almost mesmerised eyes as your bodies separate, and her gaze drops to the way your mixed warmth slowly begins to spill out of you, the evidence of everything you’ve shared glistening in the low light.

Her lips part, her cheeks flushed as her gaze stays fixed, almost transfixed, and she can’t hide the blush that rises as she takes it all in. She’s caught somewhere between admiration and disbelief, her wide eyes drinking in every detail as though this might all disappear any second.

“Take a picture; it’ll last longer, Natty,” you tease, your smirk playful, voice soft, cutting through her daze. She looks up, startled, blinking as she registers your words. But after a second, she lets out a quiet, breathless laugh, her blush deepening as she reaches over to grab her phone, still trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment. She snaps a quick picture, her gaze flicking between the screen and you, clearly savouring every second. The reverence in her expression makes your heart skip, a feeling of pride filling you as you watch her.

Once she’s put the phone aside, she reaches over with a soft, sheepish smile, helping you sit up and adjust yourself. Her gaze softens, that shy, affectionate look taking over as she wraps her arms around you, holding you close, savouring the warmth that lingers between you both.

And then she glances at the bed, a small, nervous laugh escaping as she spots her carefully scattered history notes—now crinkled, a little rumpled, with more than a few slightly smudged edges. Without missing a beat, she moves to gather them, straightening the papers, her cheeks still a warm shade of pink as she moves to tidy up.

a/n- apologies if this is the worst piece i've written LOL i've been surviving on a few hours of sleep for the past few days- big thanks to jess for somehow helping me get through this, i'll let you keep your ps5. sigh. i'd still build a princess castle tho.

[huopilled]

⤷ COUPLE UP — k.mj

masterlist | next

ೃ࿔࿐ CHAPTER I — GAME START

the cameras were focused on her, the studio lights making her sweat a little. she hoped they weren't able to see the beads of sweat through the cameras. yn always got a little nervous when she was in front of a camera, it was ironic that her whole career was built on cameras and other people.

"okay yn you ready?"

she cleared her throat as silently as she could, "yes."

"great. three... two... start!"

yn had to do something for her intro before talking. she decided on a simple wave, as her fans talked about how cute she looks while waving. she decided to play it safe.

"state your age and name please."

"lee yn. nineteen."

"nice to meet you yn. first we will explain the details and the rules of the game to you. is there anything you'd like to ask?"

she shook her head.

"great. so this game..."

they had explained everything thoroughly before she even signed the contract to agree to play the game so she knew what they were talking about. deciding to tune the mc out, yn nodded here and there letting the man know that she was listening. i mean she wasn't but... whatever.

"so yn, what do you think about the game overall?"

she'd tried to come up with something cheeky to say but she couldn't find anything. but she hoped it wouldn't matter how much fanservice she did right now because the game was full of fanservice anyway.

"i think it's great! i've never seen something like this before so i'm exited. i'm also very happy to meet new people!"

well she didn't lie that much this time, she really was excited. she was also nervous but no one had to know about that part. i mean if she even said it no one would care, and her fans would probably try to look into it and come up with crazy theories. god, she really didn't want to deal with that.

when the shooting was over they let her sit around for a little bit before getting her into the car that would take her to the house she would be staying at. she liked car rides, minus the part where she would get carsick. she usually preferred sleeping through the rides but she had to talk to a camera this time. it was okay i guess, she just felt weird talking to a camera all by herself.

"hey guys," yn smiled, a little shy, "did you miss my pretty face? i'm kidding, or am i?"

she continued to talk for five minutes before stopping the video and closing her eyes, hoping to get some sleep before a tiring day.

after a while, yn opened her eyes. coincidentally they had just parked the car and opened her door for her to get out. after stepping out of the car she looked at the building in front of her in awe. she hadn't expected it to be this big but it made sense, since there would be seven other people staying in there.

after going inside and looking at the rooms yn was told to sit down at the table that they temporarily put inside of the living room. after she sat down, they quickly started recording.

"okay so, you're going to choose someone after reading these papers and that'll be your partner from now on, so choose wisely."

"oh this is interesting..."

she started to read slowly, sometimes raising an eyebrow or two, sometimes smiling. she'd read all four papers when she picked the third one.

"this," she showed her paper to the camera "is my partner."

"okay," said the main mc "can you tell us what made you choose that person?"

"um... the fact that she can speak three languages is pretty cool. and it says here that she likes eating ice cream in winter and wearing mostly black clothes. we have those in common."

"okay great. thank you yn."

she smiled and nodded, slowly getting up from her seat and going over to one of the rooms. she laid on one side of the bed and slowly drifted to sleep. an hour later a staff member woke her up, telling her that she had to get a few photos taken. yn nodded and followed the staff out of the room.

after the shooting, she realized she had to eat or else she would be too hungry to sleep after. she opted for ramen, a quick and easy dish, also quite tasty for a packaged food.

as she was eating she began to wonder who her partner would be and what games they would play. she hoped it wasn't someone mean, she really didn't have the energy to deal with a mean person especially for a long time.

she sighed and decided to stop thinking. she didn't want to ruin the surprise by trying to guess who she'd be staying with anyway.

taglist— @saysirhc

[revelboo]

I love the idea of Everything is Alright being a reverse haram with megs, but I see you said originally. So might not happened, which I think is fine. Star doesn't need anymore trauma, but I can also see the possibility of a simple human mending the tension between the higher ups. Just might cause star, and possibly sounds to be very worried

I may still include Megs later on, just wasn’t sure if I could balance all three. It’s a lot easier when the guys at least kind of get along and this dynamic… not so much

Everything is Alright Pt 55

IDW Starscream x Reader

• Keeping you cradled to him as he types one handed on a report, he’s aware of the warmth of you leaning against him, little head resting against his chassis. “You want to talk about whatever’s bothering you?” You ask softly and his wings flick slightly, servos miskeying a glyph, because he should have realized you’d notice something is off. Always watching him, looking to him. You know him and it’s almost frightening. “You don’t have to,” you add when he’s silent too long, because how to even start? And there’s no way to explain how upset he is about finding out about your life span, without revealing that he cares too much. Without making himself vulnerable and risking rejection.

• Resting your ear against him to listen to the soft thrum of his spark, you don’t really expect him to answer. His feelings are something he hoards, keeping them to himself and only occasionally slipping and letting you see that not only does he care about you, but he needs you with him. “You know I care for you,” he says slowly, raspy words humming through you where you’re against him as one of his servos runs from your shoulder down your arm until you lay your palm against him and he vents. It’s not a question exactly, but not really a statement either. A reminder of how insecure he can be, as if trusting anything or anyone is almost impossible.

• “I care about you, too.” He knows. He really does, but something about hearing you say it settles warm about his spark. Tucking his chin so he can see you, there’s something uncertain in your expression that catches at him before you press your cheek against him so he can’t see your eyes, hiding your expression from him. “I like waking up against you. Like when you worry about me even if you don’t need to. Even when you get aggravated, I like the way your wings fidget.”

• Embarrassed, you keep your face hidden against him, trying to tell him how you feel without saying the actual words. Because telling him you think you might love him and you’re not sure when that happened? Especially if he’s only after something physical, needing someone to be there, but not the same way? It might just break you. You like his nervous tics, like the warmth of him and the way his servos feel absently stroking, touching you. You like him.

• Servos pressing you closer to him, grounding himself with the feel of you until you make a little noise of protest, mumbling that he’s squishing you and he relents. Again he thinks about how it would feel to entrust his spark to you, to feel you touch him that way. Would it only drive home the differences between you? Remind him painfully that there’s no way for this to ever be more, no spark in you to lose himself in? And so little time, he can feel it slipping away from him regardless. Head falling back against the back of his chair, he vents. Softly, hesitantly in Cybertronian, he begins to speak, knowing you can’t understand and feeling you shift to try and look at him as he shutters his optics so he won’t see your expression, because it’s hard enough to open up and this is the only way he can, this one sided conversation. Wishing for things not meant for him, swearing to protect you and cherish what time he has. That you’re his, spark or no spark. Regret and fear and love all tangled together. Feeling when you lay your head back down against him, listening to him without knowing how hard these words are.

Previous

[strnilolover]

What would have been maid! Reader and prince! Matt's first interaction?

(i love you) (maid!reader is being called darling since that’s what matt calls her)

so their first interaction with one another wasn’t planned at all. See darling was just a normal maid for the royal family, she did all different types of chores. But, matt had never seen her before until he was wandering through a part of the palace that he doesn’t go to much since there isn’t really anything there.

-

Darling had been minding her own business, dusting off some statues that never really saw the light of day except for whatever light filtered in through the giant glass windows. As she moved onto another one, she heard faint footsteps coming down the hall.

She didn’t pay much mind to it, thinking it was just another maid making her rounds and doing the chores she needed to do — since the royal family didn’t really wander too much into this part of the palace. Though, once the footsteps got closer, she turned her head just to see who it may be.

When she caught a glimpse of matt — the kingdoms prince — she immediately stopped all that she was doing. Quickly she scrambled to stand straight and tall, going down into a little bow as he went to walk by her.

But, matt stopped — his eyes focused onto her. He stepped closer to her, darlings head tipping up to look at him. He gave her a lop sided grin, “I don’t think i’ve ever seen you around darling, are you new here?” he asked, hand waving to dismiss her from her bow.

She straightened back up, tilting her head in confusion — but ultimately being respectful. She shook her head, “No, i’ve been here for a while your highness.” she said, and he nodded. His hand came up to his jaw, rubbing the skin there. “No need to be so formal — i’m just another human being.” he told her, his hand reaching out to brush a piece of hair out of her face.

“But your highness-“ Matt cut her off, holding his hand up, shaking his head. “Yes — yes i know what you were told when hired, i’m well aware. But i am no more than another person.” he said, giving her a warm smile to show he was being serious.

Her face flushed, giving a simple nod as she let her body posture loosen up, her teeth digging into her bottom lip softly. She didn’t know why she felt so nervous all of a sudden — he’s the royal prince, she’s seen him from a distance many times and he always looked so soft. But now being up close, he was a little more intimidating.

There was a long silence before he hummed, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth, his hands folding behind his back. His blue eyes trained over her figure one last time before he spoke again. “I hope I’ll be seeing you around more often?” he asked, his eyes coming back up to look into hers.

She gave a short nod, “of course.” and with that matt smiled, turning to continue his walk down the hallway and she couldn’t help but watch him walk away. Once he was out of sight, she resumed her chores — trying to clear her now clouded mind.

Matt on the other hand though, was quickly on his way back to his study — hoping to get the families personal assistant to give him all of darlings information. He wanted to see her again, and he knew just the way to do it — to have her become his personal maid.

© strnilolover

[damiansgoodgirll]

Hey 💜💜 wondering if you could write something where Damian and reader have been trying to have a baby for so long, and they've done all the treatments, but nothing ever worked, so they’ve stopped "trying". And then she ends up pregnant randomly, and her gift to him on Christmas is a positive test or a cute onesie or whatever, and it takes him a minute to actually believe her 💜💜

i love this request so much! working on it!

damian priest x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

‼️mention of infertility, pregnancy, pregnancy sickness, a little angst, mention of smut, fluff and comfort‼️

early christmas present

one year and a half.

one year and a half of you and damian trying to have a family together. one year and a half of you going from doctor to doctor, clinic to clinic and changing different treatments and yet nothing ever happened.

maybe it wasn’t meant to be. maybe you and damian weren’t fit to be parents and this was the sign. maybe it wasn’t meant for you to be a mother in this lifetime, no matter how much you wanted to be.

and you spent a year and a half blaming yourself. you reached to a point where you tried to break up with damian, saying how he deserved someone who could give him a family.

he thought you were crazy when you said that. he loved you so much and the idea of losing you was killing him, so, after a lot of therapy sessions, sleepless nights crying in each other’s arms, you came to the conclusion that it wasn’t really meant to be and that there was nothing you could do about it.

the idea of being infertile never crossed your mind so it was a big shock to you but as time passed by, you learned how to live with that and instead of focusing on the bad things, you took your life back.

a few people in the company knew or more - heard - about you and damian not being able to have kids and tried to suggest you many different options, from adoption to surrogacy but even if they seemed having good intentions, it pain you to know that your own problems became public domain.

you and damian lived your life. he promised to stay by your side and he did. he knew how much you wanted this and he was hurting at the idea of you feeling like it was your fault.

you found strength to take your mind off of that and focusing on different things. helping damian training, having dates like it was your first time together, spending much needed time in each other’s company. all the little things you loved that felt lost a year ago.

passionate nights with damian, him reminding you how much he loved you and appreciated you. you felt like yourself again and you got used of being just you and him, even if it meant for the rest of your life.

about a week ago you got sick. thinking it was just a normal cold, you let it go. but it got worse when the delicious smell of fresh bread and coffee became unbearable for you and got you nauseous every single morning.

“stomach issues again?” damian softly asked when he saw the disgust painted on your face.

“i think so…it smells so bad damian” you tried to joke when damian backed off so he could drink his coffee without making you feel worse.

“do you want me to make you something else? eggs? bacon? pancakes? anything you like?” he was so caring with you but the idea of eating made you even sicker.

“i feel like i could throw up the whole menu” you said making him laugh “i booked an appointment for today, i’m having a check up, maybe i got some virus or something…nothing too serious” you tried to remain calm but the idea of being sick for so long made you worry.

“i wish i could come with you but i promised rhea i would help her train…let me call her so i can come with you” he was about to pick up the phone but you stopped him.

“it’s not necessary damian, i promise” you smiled “she needs you, i’ll see you later on tonight” he knew that you wouldn’t have let him ditch rhea for a simple check up and he knew that no matter what he said, you wouldn’t let him come.

he nodded, moving the coffee away so he could properly kiss you before you left the house.

a couple of hours later and you were sitting in your car, watching the people passing by as you were trying to elaborate what the doctor just told you.

you weren’t sick - you were pregnant.

you were pretty sure it was impossible for you but all the tests the doctor ran turned positive.

how?

when?

your mind was racing and you couldn’t stop the million thoughts that were going through it.

sure, you and damian stopped having sex with condoms when you were trying to have a baby and when you learned that you couldn’t have kids you never really cared about safe sex anyway.

but how did it happen if you were infertile?

the doctor didn’t have a proper answer and he already scheduled some appointments to keep you checked, saying that it was almost a miracle.

right now, you were thinking about damian.

how were you going to tell him?

many ideas crossed your mind. from a mug with “best dad”, to a small t-shirt or maybe even a teddy bear.

you wanted to make this special for him too so when you crossed a shoe store on your drive back home, you decided to stop and get some inspiration. immediately your eyes fell upon a baby version of the black nike sneakers he had and you thought it was going to be an awesome gift.

your baby wasn’t even born and yet you were buying matching shoes for them and damian. while wrapping the box, the sale assistant smiled at you, unconsciously knowing that you had in mind.

you couldn’t contain your excitement and enthusiasm so you tried to speed back home.

too much surprise damian was already back and he was watching something show when you entered the front door.

his eyes immediately fell upon you, remembering you had the visit that morning.

“hey mi amor” he smiled “how are you? feeling better? what did the doctor say?” thousands of questions immediately echoed in the room, making you chuckle.

“one question at a time damian” you smiled sitting next to him on the couch “i’m feeling better, thanks, and the doctor gave me an explanation on why i keep getting sick, especially in the morning” you tried not to be so excited but it was hard.

“so?” damian was worried. he couldn’t understand why you were so happy and smiley.

instead of giving him an answer, you took the box right out of your bag and gave it to him “let say this is an early christmas present…and also the reason on why i’m always so sick” you watched him look between you and the box “come on, open it” you smiled.

damian carefully opened the small box and for a moment his heart stopped.

mini shoes? he wasn’t understanding.

and then it clicked.

“what? how? is this real?” his eyes moved between your now teary eyes and the little shoes he was holding in his hands “is it real?”

you nodded, not being able to find enough words.

“we’re gonna be parents?” he asked, now fully already knowing the answer.

“yes…” your voice broke a little but the joy filling the room was worth all of the tears you were shedding.

“this is the best gift i could ever ask for” he wrapped you in his arms and held you as you both cried of joy.

“i already booked the next appointments. the doctor wants to run some more tests and try to understand how i actually got pregnant…and we have an ultrasound appointment in a week too…we’re gonna see the baby soon” you cried onto damian’s shoulder.

“fuck, i love you so much mi amor” he quickly wiped off his tears before softly kiss your lips “and i can’t believe you got us matching shoes” he bursted out laughing.

“i can’t wait to get you matching clothes, matching pjs, matching socks, everything gonna be matching” you joked, making him even happier.

damian’s hand went over your belly “i can’t wait to meet you baby…” he softly spoke making your heart warm “you are already so loved…we love you so much, mama and papa…i can’t believe i’m saying this” he was still high on emotions and you couldn’t blame him.

maybe it really was a christmas miracle.

[saiintvalentiine]

Summary: Parrot finds out Wifies doesn't know how to dance, and tries to teach him a few moves.

Notes: we're ignoring our dads' divorce <3 a billion years ago i posted this, and it came back to me and i got a little inspired. speed written in the span of about 4 hours between loads of laundry so it's super unpolished!!! feel free to lmk any major SPAG errors :) just a fun lil romp! divider

Wordcount: 1,286

It comes up on a random Wednesday afternoon. They're chopping down a tall spruce tree and Wifies is in charge of swapping out their jukebox’s music discs when they end, because Parrot is way too picky. He's just put a new one in— otherside, a recent snatch from an Ancient City run they did— when Parrot hops off the top of the half-chopped tree and lands next to him, wings aflutter. He's already dancing along on the way down and it makes Wifies laugh.

“I like this one!” Parrot says with a wide grin. “Don't laugh at me!”

“I'm not laughing at you,” Wifies defends, pulling his axe out of his inventory. “You can stay here and dance like a bum while I chop, if you'd like.”

“Why don't you dance with me instead,” Parrot is doing a two-step already as he reaches out for Wifies's free hand.

“Nah, I don't know how to dance.”

“What!”

This is probably one of the least strange things Wifies has ever said to Parrot, but Parrot has stopped dancing in shock.

“You don't know how to dance?” Parrot echoes. “What!”

“I just don't!”

Wifies tries to shake Parrot off but Parrot doesn't let go, instead tugging him closer.

“It's not hard,” Parrot says, getting that stubborn glint in his eyes that assures that Wifies won't be getting away from him. “C’mon, I'll teach you.”

Wifies groans but stores his axe again and turns to face Parrot. Parrot grins, earwings fluttering in pleasure as he takes both of Wifies’s hands hostage.

“Okay, we’ll start with something easy.”

Otherside is whimsical and simple in it’s rhythms, and Wifies has no problem keeping track of the beats. The issue, it turns out, is that knowing the beat and moving to the beat are two different skills. He and Parrot focus on just his feet, restarting the disc over and over, and Wifies keeps stumbling over Parrot. Parrot’s grip on his hand has saved him so many times that Wifies is red in the face with embarrassment.

“Okay, let’s try something different,” Parrot says. Wifies is biting his lip too hard. “This isn’t a good song to start dancing to anyway.”

Wifies isn’t sure that he’s being honest about that, but whatever will end this mortifying ordeal is fine by him. Parrot pulls out otherside and begins fiddling with the jukebox before popping in a new disc. Creator begins, but never descends into its full instrumentation.

“Is that a music box disc?” Wifies ask.

“Yup, and we’re going to learn to waltz to it,” Parrot says, pulling Wifies close again. “I’ll lead until you can do it. It’s really simple.”

“Maybe I’m just hopeless,” Wifies sighs out, but he lets Parrot maneuver him around regardless.

“You’re not hopeless,” Parrot says as he puts Wifies’s right hand on his shoulder. “You’re learning a new skill. I didn’t approach teaching you the right way.”

Parrot nudges Wifies closer by putting his left hand on Wifies’s scapula, and then takes his other hand in a loose tangle. Wifies mirrors his posture, adjusting his stance so that they’re toe to toe. The disc has already looped twice in the time they’ve taken to set up.

“Okay, watch our feet.”

Wifies does. He watches and listens with his usual precision and consideration, Parrot whispering “one, two, three, turn,” over and over, and Wifies follows. It’s still a struggle, but he steps on Parrot’s toes less.

“You need to relax,” Parrot says, breaking Wifies’s focus. He stumbles, and they stop. “You’re way too tense. You’ve gotta feel the music, not try to strangle it.”

“Ha ha,” Wifies looks up and glares at Parrot in the dying sunlight, but Parrot just smiles. “What does feel the music even mean?”

“What are you so red for?” Parrot teases, and Wifies pinches his cheek for it. “Ouch, ouch, okay! Just, you gotta feel the music, c’mon.”

Parrot starts up again, and Wifies follows, but instead of counting, Parrot hums along with the music. The rises and falls sound so much fuller coming from Parrot’s chest, just an inch away from Wifies’s own. He finds himself humming too, breathy and quiet, trying to feel whatever it is Parrot wants him to feel.

“There,” Parrot murmurs. “There you go. Now try to look at me.”

That’s a tall ask. It’s a very, very tall ask. But Wifies looks up and meets Parrot eye to eye. His left foot drags a little behind, his right too quick, but Parrot is smiling with so much joy that Wifies thinks it’s probably okay if he scuffs Parrot’s boots a bit. Parrot is a good lead, adjusting Wifies’s position with his left hand and holding him tight with his right, while being insistent enough to stop him from falling but never restrictive enough to frustrate.

It’s what saves them both from a nasty fall. In the low light of their scattered torches and a waning moon, they seem to have spiraled too far out from their cleared out space and their legs tangle in a copse of ferns. With a whirl and a few hard flaps of his wings, Parrot keeps them from falling ass first into the dirt; it’s the kind of kinesthetic thinking Wifies has never had, but that Parrot has always excelled in. Watching Parrot fight isn’t all that different from dancing with him.

“Whoa,” Wifies says, stilling for a moment to shake off the little shot of adrenaline. “That was dangerous.”

“Nah, we’re fine,” Parrot says, pulling him close again. “You were doing well.”

“I didn’t think you liked dancing this much,” Wifies tries to frown but finds the expression melting away immediately.

They must have spun a hundred times around the jukebox, but Parrot looks as content as he did at the start. The cool night air has nipped his nose pink and his feet have got to hurt after everything they’ve been through, yet there’s no discomfort anywhere on his face.

“I don’t know many avians to dance with. It’s nice to dance with someone.”

Their waltz starts over. Wifies has almost entirely tuned the jukebox out at this point, and talking while dancing seems a little too advanced for him. He tries anyway.

“Must be boring to dance with me,” he picks each word carefully, ignoring how breathless he sounds. He’s not tired, but anxiety over messing up muddles his chest. “Wingless and all.”

“Never,” Parrot says. “Anything with you is good. The only bad part is I can’t get you out of your head for long enough to actually enjoy it.”

Wifies snorts and stumbles, and Parrot bears his weight with a chuckle. They slow down, out of sync with Creator but in sync with each other still.

“We’ll try to get you into it next time,” Parrot says, squeezing Wifies’s hand. “Teach you a few new steps.”

“You should start wearing steel toed boots,” Wifies feels his anxiety unravel slowly.

“Maybe. But you’re really not that bad.”

“You’ve been compensating for my mistakes.”

“That’s what dance partners are supposed to do,” Parrot draws them into a proper stop. “It’s not about getting it perfect, it’s about feeling good.”

Parrot drops his arm from Wifies’s shoulder and steps back. Wifies mirrors him, their fingers still intertwined. Parrot’s bows, spreading and tipping his wings forward in an impressive, wide display of colored feathers. Wifies doesn’t have any feathers to preen, but he still bows in turn once Parrot stands.

“Thank you for teaching me,” Wifies says.

“Thank you for dancing with me.”

Wifies still isn’t sure that there’s any hope for him when it comes to dancing, but it won’t be a problem as long as Parrot enjoys indulging him anyway.

[p1zzaparty]

a very small, tiny, itty bitty detail i love to see in other peoples drawings of the Losers, especially as adults or young adults even, is what kind of fashion is given to them

like its almost a given that everyones Richie has some weird collection of shitty t-shirts with some nerd thing attached to it. Or brightly colored button ups with polka dots and stripes.

Eddie seems to stump everyone because i've seen him from everything to sweaters, to expensive formal wear, to neon rainbow tank tops. Personally i always saw that guy, with his bright pink and blue polo shirts and simple plain tees, as just a mixed bag of beans. He still dresses like mommy picked out clothes that she thinks would look super handsome on him, with his little stiff gelled combed hair to match. But he rarely, probably has anything that has actual words or icons on his shirts. Maybe a national park sweater here and there, that guy probably loooves gift shops. I think now with his big boy money he'll stray away from his usual get up, splurge a little, buy something branded, something new and expensive. Also something stupid, like shoes that are way too expensive. He's a fake sneakerhead, only really investing in brands he THINKS are cool or trendy. Not that he cares too much about being trendy and cool, like Richie probably does. Just...gets an ear worm sometimes, whispering to him about how they aren't that bad looking, and that he's buying it for himself, not because some jackass on tv wore them. Maybe a shiny new watch too, and maybe even a band shirt for pj-only purposes. Otherwise he's pretty strict on his expenses and just buys what fits and works as a shirt, pants, etc. Comfort over design, squarish in appearance, boxy and casually professional. I don't see him wearing a suit outside of work or waltzing into his nearest cheap café with a confident blazer and matching ironed pants. I doubt that guy even owns an iron, probably forgot to even buy one after mummy-kins passed. Even after she screeched and raved about it too, and he just ignored her tangents, assuming it wasn't even that important, all while his shirts became crinklier and sadder much like him. Sometimes i see people make him almost tooooo strict and formal and buttoned up, to y'know match Richies more casual and stoner-dork like style that's sometimes assigned to him. But Eddie, to me, is always a business casual kinda guy. Like, paid business trip to a golf course casual. Throwing on what's comfortable, giving a healthy amount of thought to what people might think of you. You will NOT find this man dressed to the nines at home, but he does, in fact, have a little pocket protector on his stupid shirt. With a pen or pencil thrown in just to make use of it, an old candy wrapper he forgot about and WILL get washed with it, or a few crumbs from his earlier microwaved breakfast burrito he had to scarf down before Myra had something to say about its ""toxic"" ingredients.

His clothes probably vary in size by a very small margin. Knowing a ball park guess of his pants and shirt sizes, always forgetting to add in it going through the washer, or how a size 30 is a size 31 in Canada or whatever. Probably because he was so used to mummy buying everything for him, even into his early 20s in college. Now he's free from her suffocating grasp, he still copies her sense of fashion and rarely does anything outlandish or fashionable. I think later down the line, in the cannon he survives and goes off to live a happily ever after with Richie, that he'd begin to explore a bit more. Getting that sugar baby money helps, and he'd have to try and buck up with Richie, trying to copy him slightly in terms of fashion.

He's a bland man Sarah, a BLAND man!

[ohlookapan]

Heisenberg comfort HCs, anyone?

I've been feeling really down and out these last few days so I've been thinking about this silly steel man to make myself feel better.

Heisenberg is VERY observant–I’d go so far as to say he’s hyper observant. He’ll know something isn’t right likely before you do. He may not say anything right away, but he’s going to keep an eye on you.

Karl is someone who knows what it’s like to be stuck in your own head, and how shitty it is. He also knows how awful it feels (though he’d never admit it) to feel like that and feel like that alone. He never wants you to feel that way, alone. 

He also knows that thinking about it makes it worse, but he will try and see if he can figure out what’s wrong. It’ll be something casual. “Talk to me, kid. What’s goin’ through that head of yours? Can’t be anything good if you’re all down like this.” The only exception to this is if you’re in a REALLY bad place, then he’s going to be much more urgent. If he can’t get it out, he’ll grab a pen and paper and have you write what you can.

If he can’t get the issue out of you (which he will not push you about it), he’s kinda stuck. He doesn’t totally know what to do, since he doesn’t really do anything to help himself. He just pushes it away and focuses on something else, letting his mind get buried in whatever he’s doing until he forgets about the issue. That being said, he NEVER wants you to do that. He may do it, but you sure as hell won’t.

Heisenberg will not change anything about how he acts around you when you feel that way. It isn’t because he doesn’t care, but rather that he doesn’t want to make you feel babied or less than because of how you’re feeling. You’re a tough cookie, he’s going to make sure you feel like one, even if you’re crumbled from time to time. 

Being as observant as he is, he knows what makes you happy and makes you feel better (even a little), even if he fucking HATES it. If it helps, you’re getting it. Even if it’s wine, he’ll trudge to Castle Dimitrescu himself and get it. He’ll definitely bitch about it, but it’ll never be around you. He’ll bitch on the way there or take it out on Alcina. 

If you’re shaking a lot, or you’re moving a bunch, he’ll give you something to tinker with, even if it’s broken or defunct. If you’re angry and need to break things, he’s already made you a version of his hammer that you can lift and just tells you “You know where to go.” Hell, he’ll probably go with you and do it too (but also to make sure you don’t hurt yourself).

He’ll definitely try and give you some words of encouragement in his own way. It may be something simple like, “Don’t let this destroy you, kiddo.” to something a bit deeper (depending on how you feel), like “You’ll get through this, buttercup. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. You’re going to outlive that bitch Miranda, and you’re going to be just fine. Got it? Good.”

Once you feel better, he’s not going to bring that incident up again, unless it’s something ongoing or something really serious, but he will check in with you to see how you’re feeling after that. “You ready to get back in the game, kid? Good to hear. Wasted a lot of precious time picking your ass up out of the dirt."

[muwapsturniolo]

This is the only thing I’m gonna say cuz it don’t involve me AT ALL but I’ve gotten a few things in my inbox about it.

Blocking does not hurt anyone. I understand you may want to know why you were blocked but like @leoslaboratory said and I’m switching up just a little bit to fit what I’m saying. Maybe rose didn’t like something you said and she decided to block. It really is that simple. It’s ok for her to block if she don’t wanna see something or for her to block if you didn’t give credit for whatever it is.

So to the anon who sent her that long ass paragraph saying “the fic will still be up even if you block the acct so what’s the point?” The point is she won’t have to see it! It’s ok for her to protect her peace in any way she sees fit.

Yall jump her (and many others) for calling out being copied. So when she stops calling people out and just blocks, it still an issue? It doesn’t make sense.

It’s ok not to like her, but going into her inbox to send hate, coming into my inbox cuz she turned hers off so you can say shit to me, and going into others inbox to complain about her or egg on “drama” that really isn’t even drama, is not ok.

And I’m bringing this up as an example (no hard feelings towards her at all) this is exactly the same shit with Kay (again no hard feelings towards her at all) she was answering anons that were hateful towards me and other writers which was getting me and other writers irritated.

if you don’t want drama, why keep answering anons, especially anons that are lying and twisting roses words, and egging this shit on when it didn’t even have to be like this fr?

Let’s not act like yall don’t have anyone blocked on any media at all. I have one person blocked on here, and maybe five on Twitter, and like 7 on instagram.

And until tumblr makes a setting like Twitter where you can mute an acct without blocking, then blocking is just gonna have to work for now.

Blocking someone does not mean you hate them, you just don’t wanna see what they have to say, AND THATS FINE.

Now imma say this before anons try to jump me, I personally have no ill feelings towards @leoslaboratory and @liiixsturniolos . This was mainly a post for the anons I’ve been getting trying to dog rose.

[papaya-twinks]

I might’ve meant it - l.n 🎈

Warnings: None

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

You and Lando weren’t best friend, but you weren’t toral strangers either. Same friend group, so obliged to get him a present. Seemed simple enough.

“Yo, this is sick,” Lando held up whatever gadget Max had gotten him as you watched, a smile on your face, patiently waiting til it was your turn.

“Y/N,” Max nudged you forwards as you smiled bashfully. “I hope you like it, I made it myself,” you said a little shyly holding up the teddy bear with a crochet version of Lando’s bucket hat on its head.

It wasn’t as expensive or amazing as some of the shit your other friends got, but you made it yourself. “Oh my god, Y/N,” he took it into his hands gently.

“I love you- it,” he said, his eyes at the bear as you smiled, your cheeks pink as he ran a finger over the crochet. He really did like it, didnt he?

Later That Night

Everyone was partying, all shouting and screaming and dancing as you stepped out onto the balcony for some air. “Hey,” a voice snapped your train of thoughts.

“Oh, hi birthday boy,” you said softly, “why are you here, shouldn’t you be partying with your friends?”. Lando hummed, chuckling softly at the nickname.

“Someone was missing, is all,” he said, and you noticed in his arms was your bear. “Already attached?” you giggled, looking to the bear as he laughed again, before it fell silent.

“Listen, about earlier-,” you both paused, realising you’d spoken at the same time. “You can go first,” Lando said awkwardly as you shook your head, “No, no, I insist you-,”.

“No, no- look, alright,” Lando sighed, “I’m sorry I was gonna say I love you,” he mumbled, scratching the back of your neck, “I’m…not sure if I meant it,” he admitted.

“I was…hoping you would,” you said truthfully as his eyes widened. “Really?” he asked, surprised at your confidence. “I mean…yeah,” you shrugged, “I like you and Max says you like me, im not sure if he’s-,”.

“That bastard,” Lando mumbled, “spillin’ my secrets,”. You blinked. “So you do like me?” you asked, eyes wide. “Might do…might’ve meant what I said earlier,” he said sheepishly.

“Good,” was all you said, kissing him softly, his body stumbling back in shock, before he melted into the kiss. An interesting turn of events, for sure.

[yaoireview]

review sockathan ! 👻👻👻

woah how'd you make that green

SOCKATHAN YAOI REVIEW

Disclaimer: This will contain spoilers (kind of) for Welcome to Hell 2 Part 1 and Welcome to Hell. You should probably go watch that. Its made by Erica Wester and its PRETTY cool.)

My Yaoi Entrepreneurs, I'll be blunt with you. I know we've ALL seen gay people, maybe in the streets, maybe at the park. You might even see one in your home now, so lets be honest with ourselves. Sock is DEFINITELY gay, bisexual at LEAST.

The OTHER one on the other hand.. its a little bit harder to say.. I'll probably find something though..

Lets make one thing clear, when I say Yaoi in this review. I don't mean ANYTHING inappropriate. Its just my special way of saying gay people.. I'm kinda magical in that sense.

Lets just get the first one done and over with a simple section I like to call:

EVIDENCE 1: SOCK IN GENERAL

okay so FIRST of all the FIRST time we see sock, they call Jonathan "hot stuff" while being in a fridge. I'm not sure about you but that's love if I ever saw it.

After that they introduce you to Sock killing his parents. One key point after another. If Sock being gay wasn't important, then WHY was it shown BEFORE telling us Sock's (other) main trait. Checkmate liberals.

Sock would then get the report from Mephistopheles, and you COULD say its just because the camera zoomed in, but its literally the most light ever seen in Sock's eyes.

And then Sock went on to ruin Jonathan's day, making him look crazy, and Jonathan SOMEHOW got blamed for knocking down that desk, I swear I think the teachers just hate him. I'm not sure about you but I certainly cant KNOCK over a desk thats right next to me.

He was WRITING too.. would a guilty man of desk flipping WRITE?? NO!!

And not to mention that Sock made Jonathan look DUMB in front of the faceless brothers which was probably the closest time that Sock did their job right.

Sock absolutely ruined it today.. but can you blame them? They're new to the job, give them some SLACK.

But the upcoming days, Sock was so whimsical.

Yeah SURE. Sock is still telling Jonathan to kill himself, but they just don't want to get fired!!

Not to mention the fact that they stared at Jonathan while they were taking a piss, but there's nothing odd about that.

And also near the end, Mephistopheles calls sock out on liking the guy, and Sock stutters. You just have to take my word for it.

SOCK IN GENERAL 2 [PART 1]

If you saw Welcome to Hell 2 [Part 1], you already know what I'm gonna comment about. Sock went on to call Jonathan's mother, hot. They then went on to say "Must be where you got it from, huh? You definitely got her butt at least."

When Jonathan goes on a walk and Sock follows them and says after Jonathan says he doesn't wanna be friends with them. (We'll get back to that)

"Oh wow, come to think of it, You don't really have ANYONE do YOU? What's that feel like? Knowing you're gonna die alone." to which Jonathan snaps back with "I dunno Sock, you tell me."

Now at first, this looks like a scene of ANTI SOCKATHAN propaganda, but think with me here, yaoiers. How would Jonathan know that Sock died alone??

I understand if he just guessed, since sock DOES look like someone who would die alone, or he just said whatever comeback that came to his head but if not, Sock ALREADY told Jonathan about their past life.

If what I KNOW is true, Sock VENTED to Jonathan about their life before they died in LESS than a week, since Sock just now sees Jonathan's mother in the first part, and due to a comment made by the creator.

Sock REALLY trusts this guy, maybe Mephistopheles didn't want to hear them vent, but maybe its JUST because Sock wanted Jonathan to do the same. but they probably didn't.

And then near the end, Sock says to Jonathan when he snatched his employee manual

"Jonathan, if something happens to you-"

Actually, I think this is pretty weak evidence but I thought I'd include it, since a teacher would say the same thing if a kindergartener was up on a high shelf.

That segment was PRETTY lengthy, but I PROMISE you, the others will be shorter, I just.. didn't expect there to be so much for Sock...

EVIDENCE 2: SOCK SUCKS AT THEIR JOB.

Jonathan was DEAD ON when they told Sock that they suck at their job. And quite honestly.. I could've done it better.. I could've got Jonathan to kill himself (theoretically) on the FIRST day, and if you wouldn't use my strategy, I promise you that there's probably several other you could use for the teenager that you want them to kill themselves at home.

STEP 1: GRAB A WEAPON

Since Sock is seen to be able to flip over a desk and they're able to HOLD Jonathan's journal (Shock or not), I should THEORITCALLY be able to grab a weapon, now for this strategy, I suggest you pick a nonlethal option, only to have a lethal option around, for this example, I will be using a sledgehammer.

After swinging that at the noggin, Jonathan would drop unconscious, probably with brain damage (that don't matter though)

STEP 2: POSSESS THE TEENAGER

Now it MAY not be like this in w2h, but Mephistopheles was able to possess Jonathan when he was DEAD (Probably), so It should hopefully work when they're out of consciousness.

STEP 3: KILL YOURSELF.

Alright now I KNOW that sounds bad.. but it wouldn't be MY hands to kill him. Grab the nearby lethal and SHOOT. THAT. TEENAGER!! Your boss may not agree with the logistics of this, but you get the job done.

This simulation was to PROVE that Sock atleast CARES a bit about Jonathan to want to get to know him. and to not kill him on the spot. Now if It was the other way around.. I'm not exactly sure..

EVIDENCE 3: JONATHAN KINDA HATES SOCK

(he looks like hes standing up to a school bully)

At the beginning of Welcome to Hell, hes clearly annoyed and STILL is annoyed by some of Sock's actions by the end, but he atleast isn't mad enough to NOT act like he could put up with Sock. I think the closest thing to gayness from Jonathan was when he moved the backpack for Sock to sit down.

In Welcome to Hell 2, he IS PISSED at this guy, and honestly, if Sock kept on knocking down those desks, i CANT blame him..

Maybe Sock kinda ruined the vibe when they expressed their love for Jonathan's mother, its hard to say really..

Jonathan makes this very clear that he DOESN'T even wanna be Sock's friend, I mean HAVE YOU HEARD THE THEME SONG?

SUMMARY:

Sock wasn't able to win Jonathan's heart, making him tonight's biggest loser.

YAOI: 6.5/10

[ramblinscramblin]

→ General kissing headcanons!

Genre: fluff! GN reader

Characters: all mercenaries

Requested by me! First one of these, still getting a feel for writing for a lot these characters so forgive me if it’s ooc, I try my hardest! Enjoy!

Scout

Spends more time talking about kissing then actually doing it, psychs himself out a lot of time, may end up not even being able to do it.

He’s a nervous wreck when it comes to initiating physical contact, you’ll have to initiate most of the kisses most of the time (hehe).

Will pretend it’s you who’s nervous though, even if that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Look at you, you’re tremblin’ in your seat! Maybe some other night…” he said once, throwing an uncaring arm around the back of the couch.

“Scout, I’m not nervous… are you?” You pause for a moment, scanning his burning face “you are!”

“Nah! I’m not! What’s there to be nervous ’bout? Who even friggin’ cares not me! I’m relaxed!” He shouted as he quickly jumped to his feet “forget this! Im leavin’!”

Despite his reservations, once the two of you actually get into it, he warms up nicely. The anticipation is really what drives him crazy.

Scout definitely grabs at you whenever you two kiss, whatever he can reach really, your hips, jaw, neck, hands, thighs, whatever is closest.

Most of Scouts kisses are good natured, short, and sweet, he interrupts himself often to start a new train of thoughts. Extremely chatty during make out sessions, it’s almost endearing.

Deeper kisses are a pretty dangerous game for him, so he tends to keep that behavior for the bedroom.

Enjoys a good kiss on his forehead, would fucking die before he admitted that though.

Demoman

Really easy lover in pretty much every regard.

Demoman is looking for a good time, all the time, so long as you treat him with respect, kisses are pretty hard not to come by.

He’s almost always the one to make the first move (usually using a little bit of liquid courage to put a pep in his step).

“Yer lookin’ right as ever, wasna mor’ bonny cunt all night,” he said with a massive grin.

Sometimes it was a little hard to understand what he was saying, his facial expression usually tells you whether he means “cunt” in a negative or positive way. Clearly he is more than well intentioned.

“I’m… sorry,” you apologize with a gentle laugh “what was that?”

He placed a soft kiss right on the side of your mouth “I meant you look good, laddie/lassie.”

After that he pretty much kisses you all the time whenever for whatever.

LOVES IT when you take the reins though and kiss him, he always scoops you up and gives a big laugh, making a huge spectacle out of it.

Lots of drunk making out, I don’t make the rules.

Kisses you wherever you let him, no real preference, but loves to kiss your cheek and you his.

Solider

Solider is honestly a pretty hard read for me.

I feel like Solider takes most his cues from you, if you’re shy and nervous, he tends to act the same, if you’re confident and assertive, so is he.

Surprisingly, doesn’t take the lead very often, prefers if you tell him what you want, he hates reading social situations, especially when he tends to fail so often.

“Hey Solider,” you greet warmly one day.

“Hello maggot!” Strangely, despite the antagonistic nature of the nickname he still salutes you as you approach.

The two of you stand silently for a moment, before inevitably asking your most burning question “wanna make out?”

“Affirmative,” he said enthusiastically.

Most things with Solider are pretty simple, he’s a no nonsense fellow, he likes things to be American, and straight forward.

Kisses from him are always really fulfilling and deep, he likes kissing you before and after battle for “good luck”.

Kisses you on the back your neck and shoulders whenever they’re out, he loves that tender shit.

He likes to be taken seriously in his romances, no jokes during those times.

Always grabs the nape of your neck, almost always pulls away smiling. He’s a sweet heart.

Pyro

Pyro loves kisses.

Always secretly angling for them, anyway they can.

Pyro came up to you early one morning, a plate full of… what may at some point been then cinnamon buns saved in the communal fridge, but now were burnt to a crisp.

“Oh… is this for me! Thank you,” you smiled politely, taking the plate in your hands.

“Hudda hudda!” Mumbled Pyro happily, hands clasped in excitement.

You leaned forward and place a soft kiss on the side of their mask.

Pyro was so geeked and giddy, they didn’t even realize that you had discarded the cinnamon buns behind your back.

Big cartoony kisses on their mask, make a big show of it, with a loud “mwah!” As you pull away, they’re already melting.

Most kisses come when Pyro and you are cuddling, which is also a frequently required assignment from Pyro.

Every time they kiss you, you can hear a very muffled and yet extremely enthusiastic smecking sound from inside their mask.

Spy

Spy is headstrong with romance, never the kind of guy to pull his punches. He’s so charming though that you may not even notice.

He’s a gentleman, so there is actually a lot that has to happen before he is willing to kiss you.

Lots of flirting and courting, everything, the entire nine yards. Makes you feel like royalty. First date also needs to happen before he kisses you.

“I can pull out my own seat, Spy,” you scold a little half heartedly.

Spy just stares at you, half offended for a moment before saying “don’t speak nonsense, mon amor! It’s bad luck!”

You hardly lift a finger during the entire date, even goes as far as feeding you, ends the night with an incredibly scenic walk back home and a kiss under the New Mexico moonlight.

Once kissing becomes regular for the two of you… it still almost always treated like a first kiss. Passionate, polite, loving. Spy is honestly so dreamy when he’s courting someone.

Doesn’t take much to bring out his hungrier side though, craves your kisses a little too insatiably at times. He just cannot get enough of you!

Hand kisses, constant hand kisses. Holds your hand often so it is easy to quickly bring to his lips for a quick peck.

Sniper

Sniper may take the longest to convince out of all of them.

I mean you can rush into it and kiss him unexpectedly, but really you’d be shooting yourself in the foot. Plus Sniper deserves to be worked for.

Spending constant quality time takes a lot of effort, but it’s what is required to get him even close to comfortable with the idea of kissing someone.

Tends to stay out of the romance scene, things can get messy in his profession he doesn’t want to drag anyone else into it.

But oh god he thinks about it constantly, especially when you start hanging around more and more, too strict on policy to admit it.

But if it’s technically your idea? Well… it wouldn’t exactly be very polite to decline now would it?

You’re sitting with him around a campfire, shoulder to shoulder on a log he cut a little too short (definitely not on purpose).

“So… quiet night,” you say, peeking up at him with a crooked smile.

“Uh, yup. That’s right,” he said quietly, staring down at you intensely.

Your eyes darted to his lips for just a second, but that was more than enough, you two were locked together for over an hour.

Acts awkward around you almost every single time you kiss him, not matter how long it’s been. He just cannot seem to get used to it. Don’t bring it up though, it will put him off.

Kissing snipes is rewarding every damn time because of how hard you have to work for it.

He likes to whisper sweet nothings between kisses, don’t acknowledge it, in fact don’t acknowledge any of it (Mick does not want to be perceived).

Kisses your temple, frequently. Loves if you pick up the same habit.

Engie

Engie is a fiend for physical affection, it’s a secret you’re not supposed to know about it though.

Finds kissing to be the most important part of a relationship, really values the whole intimacy of it.

Even despite that I imagine that he’s not really flashy about his approach with how to get kisses, talks around it mostly, making jokes and jabs about it.

Engie is probably the most emotionally intelligent out of all the mercs, so he’ll work up the courage eventually just give him a minute or two.

“So… we’ve been gettin’ pretty close, havin’ a good time an’ all,” he said subtly while you were alone with him.

“Yeah, I’d agree,” you respond with a grin.

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant and confident “I think maybe we should take things to the next level, wha’d’ya say?”

Of course you accept, he’s still immensely shocked and red in the face about it though.

He likes really sudden like sickly sweet kisses, give him that corny rom-com stuff right now, he will absolutely melt.

Also likes to kiss while he hugs you, big into slipping his hands into your pockets while he does so.

Kisses your head a lot (if you’re taller than him he gets annoyed frequently that he can’t reach, you’re his prime target every time you sit down).

Just love on this man, he’s simple.

Medic

Despite how insane this guy is I feel like Medic is pretty coy with romance.

Not in a way that is shy, or insecure, or even nervous, he just enjoys being chased, he wants you to have to work for it at least a little bit.

You also have to prove to be someone worthy of his affection (which isn’t as hard as it sounds, show genuine interest in his interests and be sweet to his birds there you won).

Medic has a pretty lax kissing policy, he greets people with kisses all the time, so he wasn’t really shy with you even if things progressed more seriously.

“Oh! Good morning!” Medic exclaimed, placing a kick peck on the side of your lips.

Embarrassment clear on your face as you raise your hands in surprise, his good morning friendly kisses are usually placed squarely on the cheek, not so close to your mouth.

“Little eager this morning aren’t you?” You said in a teasing manner.

He shrugged a little, making a cheeky expression “I have no idea vhat you are talking about!”

Kisses at inopportune or awkward times, never seems to notice. Genuinely enjoys catching you off guard.

Likes make out sessions in his office a lot, secretly making mental notes about your oral situation, totally not creepy.

Expect a lot of kisses right next to your mouth, that’s his absolute favorite spot to kiss you, that or along your spine.

Heavy

Heavy is respectful to a fault honestly, is afraid of seeming creepy or imposing so he may keep his distance at first.

Definitely needs to go ahead from you before he thinks about making any moves, he doesn’t want to scare you away, and he doesn’t want to ruin his chances either. But once he sense a mutual attraction? He may get a little more bold.

“Is looking good tonight,” he said, elbowing you as lightly as possible.

“Who is?” You ask whipping your head around briefly.

Heavy laughed “you is,” he joked.

Kissing is almost always initiated by you, he has to be a special mood to start it himself, usually if he’s upset and needs a quick pick me up.

Is actually very clingy if you allow him to be (which of course you will, don’t be stupid people) holds you firmly in place while kissing.

Likes kissing your ears, finds your flustered reaction so sweet and adorable. Really into that pure shit.

Kisses you on the cheek whenever the two of you go your separate ways for whatever reason, and of course when you two reunite. Yes, you’re that couple.

God I’m such a sap, what’s wrong with me.

An: oh jeez! I hope that was good Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑) again first time writing for a lot of these gents so let’s pray this isn’t offensively out of character. Thanks so much for reading!

[izvmimi]

cw: a little comfort, not very much hurt. implied argument.

You and Ace really never fight, and it’s been this way since the two of you were children. 

However, there is no idyllic world where two people, regardless of how closely intertwined their fates are or how great their love, can be one hundred percent in tune with each other, and tonight was one of those nights. 

You’d argued, the disagreement starting with an offhand comment on Ace’s part which in another world, you could have let go, but in this certain combination of moodiness, perhaps unfortunate phase of the moon or a simple fray in the red string linking the two of you, you’d snapped back, and things escalated; a slow simmer at first, until steam built and you were both close to raising your voices, chests heaving when you both called an armistice.

But part of that involved the fact that you simply couldn’t bring yourself to sleep next to him tonight. 

Leaving the bedroom with your pillow in tow and wrapping yourself tightly in a throw blanket, you settle into the couch despite his insistence that you take the bed. Ace watches you carefully from the doorway but doesn’t say anything, the bite in his lower lip making it clear that he has more opinions, but won’t risk you getting angry further.

The light turns off and the two of you simmer. 

Ace doesn’t close the door, but he disappears into the darkness, even if you don’t really check.

…

You’re not sure how long it was before you dozed off, or how long you slept, the swirl of emotions in your head having exhausted you to slumber. Yet your throat is dry, and your eyes creak open as a result. The room is still dark and you haven’t shifted. Pushing the covers off of you, you swing your legs over and get yourself to standing.

You take one step, and nearly crash to the ground, only for your fall to be braced by your love.

As if you hadn’t just tripped on him.

He’s grinning, as if he has the nerve to, as if he had any more leverage than a man who was just curled into the fetal position on the floor right next to the couch because he sleeps better when he can feel you close.

“Lucky I was here, wasn’t it?”

Your eyes narrow slightly, but as you find yourself laying atop him, you bite your lip as you look him in the eyes, your heart filling before you press it against his chest.

“Silly,” you murmur but you allow him to hold you for a moment before you quench your thirst, already thankful for the simple reassurance that you’re loved regardless of whatever you disagree on.

[unhingedangstaddict]

I'll Hold Onto You While We Run Chap 16 Sneak Peak

Evan wasn’t exactly wrong about Tommy not being totally sure, but it was clear to Tommy that Evan was serious, he wanted to try and Tommy would be happy to give him the chance. “Evan,” Tommy cut him off. “As much as I would love to listen to you ramble all day- can I just just say let’s try it already?” Tommy asked, surprising himself a little with how blunt he was. He couldn’t help it though, he really did want to see where this might go.

“T- try? Like try dating?” Evan seemed to be in shock.

“No try out for the Olympics,” Tommy said sarcastically, trying to ease some of the tension, to make Evan less nervous. “Yes, like try dating. I think you’re adorable, and if you think you’re ready, then I say okay, let’s see what it’s like to be something.” He reached out and set his hand over Evan’s.

Evan smiled widely and put his other hand over Tommy’s.

Tommy smiled back.  “We’ll take things slow. You set the pace, and I’ll go along with it.” Tommy told Evan.

“I’m not usually good at slow.” Evan admitted quietly.

“We’ll figure it out together, okay?” Tommy gave Evan’s hand a gentle squeeze before pulling his hand away so they could continue eating.

Evan nodded in agreement. “Is there anything you need from me going into this?”

“What do you mean?” Tommy asked.

“Like, some people want lots of check-ins or reassurance, some people really like physical affection, some need dedicated time to themselves,” Evan rattled off.

Tommy nodded in understanding. “Nothing really comes to mind, but I can let you know if something pops up or changes.” He promised. “Is there anything you need?”

Evan looked down at his plate as his cheeks tinted pink. “I do really like physical affection.” Evan’s cheeks continued turning darker, getting more red now. “I’ve been told I’m touch starved.” He added nervously. “It doesn’t have to be anything crazy either, some people take that as like, a sexual thing which it’s not- not that I’m not interested in that stuff either, I am- when it’s the right time of course,” Evan rambled nervously. “It can be as simple as holding hands or sitting close enough that legs or shoulders touch, just knowing someone is there, ya know?”

Tommy smiled as he listened to Evan. “I get it, I don’t mind at all.” He chuckled. As adorable as the rambling was, he didn’t want Evan to feel nervous. “I’m happy to do whatever you need to feel comfortable and cared about, okay?”

“Okay.” Evan mumbled quietly, still not looking up at Tommy.

“Hey,” Tommy said softly.

Evan finally looked up at Tommy.

“It’s okay.” Tommy smiled softly at Evan.

Evan blushed as he nodded and smiled back at Tommy.