#i'm sensitive to light and sometimes noise ->

[virtualplays]

Linked Disability Event Day 1

Prompt: Migraines

Four gets a migraine, Sky's there to help.

Now on AO3!

@linked-disability

A Migraine'd Morning

Blinking awake, Four knew today was going to be rough. He could feel the pressure behind his eyes already forming. A migraine, no doubt. Despite his thoughts being slightly more merged than normal, Four knew that the Colors were the cause.

Groaning, Four sat up, covering his eyes with his hand. Ignoring Legend's taunting calls, Four begins searching his bag. He can't remember if he grabbed his medicine last time they were in his era.

As Four searches, he can feel the pressure getting worse. Sitting up, combined with the light from the sun, was quickly becoming a problem.

Great, a blue-tinted thought begins, We forgot to grab the one thing that keeps us from becoming useless.

Four shakes his head to clear the thought, only to have a wave of nausea hit him. Covering his mouth with his hand, Four tilts to the side slightly.

"Four?" A voice questions from his left, "Are you alright?"

Four glances over to see Sky leaning over him. He hadn't noticed Sky approach.

We really are out of it, a passing thought edged with red.

"...'m fine. J'st a mi'ra'ne," Four's words would slur. He'd blink several times, scrunching up his brow.

We're clearly not fine, the violet-hued part of his brain added, We're slurring our speech, meaning we're closer to the worst pain than we thought.

Sky, concern clear, would grab Four's face gently. He gently moves Four's face to look at him better, "You should probably lay back down, Four."

"Mhm, fo'go' m' meds," Four would lean into Sky's cold hands, his eyes fluttering closed.

"I'm sure Wild can make you something to help, for now just lay back down and go back to sleep," Sky would sit down next to Four, slowly helping the teen lay his head on his lap.

Going back to bed does sound nice, the green-shaded thought said.

"M'kay. G'nigh' Sky," Four grabbed his blanket, pulling it over his eyes.

"Good night, Four," Sky chuckled lightly as he began to run his fingers through Four's hair.

end cuz i can't do endings

[firelilyfox]

dog tags

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Summary: Bucky comes back from a long day at work and find you welcoming him home. He can't believe how lucky he is to have you.

Wordcount: 1k-ish

Warnings: teeth-rotting fluff. Bucky being a softy. indicated nsfw actions. flirty Bucky. heavy flirting. established relationship. Alpine the cat. kissing. touching.

_________________________

Bucky couldn't wait to get home.

The day had been long and full of boring meetings, which made his mood more than just bad. But at the thought of coming home to you, in your own little apartment not far from the Thunderbolts Tower, he had to smile.

He took two stairs at once with each step, to get to his destination a little faster. When Bucky closed the apartment door behind him, he immediately relaxed.

The image that presented itself to him was the epitome of home.

Dim light filled the living area. Many small light sources, because according to you, in this apartment ceiling light was an absolute no-go. The windows were open and a light summer wind made the curtains dance. The rain poured outside, but the noise was drowned out by soft jazz music that sounded from an old record player.

Alpine stretched on the couch and his white fur made him look like a very happy little cloud.

And in the kitchen - there is you.

You've turned your back on him and you're busy stirring in a pot. Bucky couldn't hold back his grin when he saw you swinging back and forth slightly to the music. He followed the movements of your hips with his eyes, as if they had a hypnotizing effect on him.

He patted Alpine's head and walked quietly towards you. Bucky gently wrapped his arms around your hips and pulled you to him. A surprised sound and a giggling of yours made his heart beats a bit faster.

“Bucky! You scared me.”

He buried his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled your scent.

That's how it feels to come home. He thought quietly and kissed the sensitive spot right behind your ear.

„Hi, love.“ 

You put the wooden spoon aside and turn around to him in his arms. Automatically your hands found their place around his neck and a loving smile rested on your lips.

"Welcome home, darling."

You stand on tiptoe to kiss him, but Bucky put a hand on your cheek and just looked at you for a moment.

You tilt your head questioningly. "What's going on inside your head?"

"Sometimes," he said. “Sometimes I can't believe you're real. You're too good to be true, doll.”

Your cheeks turned pink.

God I love it when that happens. He thought.

"Oh, stop it, you charmer." You give him a playful slap on the chest. "You're totally soaked. Go dry yourself, then we can eat something. I made us your mother's stew, which you love so much.”

Bucky grinned. “What did I do to earn you? Seriously, tell me. A man like me never wins a jackpot this high!"

He covered your face with little kisses. Cheeks, tip of the nose, forehead and jaw. Your laughter sounded childish and playful, which only motivated him even more to shower you with his love.

There was a sizzling sound behind you. With two nimble hands, you prevent the stew from overflowing. Bucky was still standing close behind you, his hands on your hips. The circular movements of his thumbs left hot shivers on your skin.

"I'm serious, Soldier. Go dry off and let's eat something before I change my mind and go straight for dessert." You teased while turning back to Bucky. Your fingers were around his dog tags. With a slight pull, you marked your word.

His eyes light up and a slight blush crept down his cheeks. This man was a shameless flirt, but if you reciprocate his flirtyness or even start with it, he gets flustered. Even the super soldier in him got nervous.

Bucky loved it when you played with his dog tags. He imagined how the metal brushed your naked skin when you were lying under him and he made you moan.

"Careful, my love. I'm hungry for more.” His voice was colored by lust and it cost him a lot of control to detach himself from you and fulfill your wish.

He teased you with a wink. You bite your lower lip.

The food was delicious, but Bucky had his thoughts elsewhere. And you knew that. The way he literally undressed you with his eyes almost drove you crazy. And when he finally lost his temper and jumped up from the table, you found yourself between him and the wall the next second.

Bucky held you captive with his body and claimed your lips with an insatiable hunger. You moan in the kiss. Bucky's grip on your waist tightened. You gently pull his hair and he growled in response.

“You're going to kill me, doll. I need you.”

You lean your head back against the wall to look up at him. "So dessert it is?"

Bucky put his hand around your throat with light pressure and parted your lips with his thumb. A devilish smile played around the corners of his mouth.

„Fuck yeah please.“ 

______________________________

Thank you so much for reading! 💙 All interactions are highly appreciated (but please don't copy my work)

BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST

[remlionheart]

Dazai with a reader who got a HUGE oral kink, like they just cant stop giving him oral

₊ ⊹MDNI₊ ⊹

ft. whiney, whimpering, overstimulated dazai :(((

Dazai had little to no self control when it came to most things in life, but especially when it involved the feeling of your soft lips wrapped around his overly sensitive tip. The content little hums you'd let out in between breaths while you flattened your tongue and ran it faithfully up his length for the third time in only a few hours.

"Oh - fuck, fuck... fuck." He groaned, teetering on the verge of overstimulation. He wasn't sure what he'd done to get so lucky. Wasn't sure what he'd ever done so right to deserve a girl that loved to devour him the way that you did, but god damn, was he thankful to whatever divine intervention had led him to you.

Every time he thought there was no possible way he had another drop of cum left to spare, you somehow always managed to coax it out of him anyway.

“Angel,” he nearly whimpered, little tremors hitting his slender body in waves, making his legs shake against the firm grasp of your palm. “I’m - mmm, so… sens...itive - hah-”

His breathy obscenities went straight to your center, making you all the more determined to take him in deeper. A mixture of guttural moans and lewd slurping filled the room as you continued to grind against his leg. Your clit desperately searching for friction while your hand and mouth worked in perfect synchronicity against him.

“You want me to stop?" You asked, batting your eyes up at him through heavy lashes. You already knew the answer from how feverishly he kept thrusting into you though, his tip hitting the back of your throat in a way that slurred and strained your words. "All you have to do... is - tell me to stop... and I will...."

His mind was on fire - stuck somewhere between wanting you to go slower and faster. Easier and harder. "S'too much, angel" and "Don't you dare fucking stop."

He was delirious, spilling out the prettiest, whiniest noises as his long fingers tangled into your hair while he watched you. His mouth dropping open in awe. "I can take it." He gritted out, not ready to pull himself away from the salacious warmth your tongue was gracing him with. "I can take it. Keep going."

It was cute, how hard he tried to seem in control while being at the mercy of your touch.

"I just want one more," your voice was velvet across his tender skin, pleasure mixing with pain as you let out the softest demands. "You're doing so good," you praised, noting the way his eyes had began to roll back. "Good boy, just like that."

Having two switches in a relationship could be a real problem sometimes - neither one of you easily willing to submit to the other. It was a competition almost in the way that you'd both fight for dominance, but today - oh today, you had him right where you wanted him. Even if he wanted to deny it, he couldn't. Not with the way he was writhing under you and whimpering out your name in the neediest voice you'd ever heard from him. Cock twitching when the words, "good boy" left your mouth.

"Give me one more, baby. Just one more." You let the spit that you'd gathered up pool down over his shaft as your hollowed out your cheeks to take him in further, trying not to smile at the way his hips bucked up towards you. His grip tightening in your hair as more incoherent little nothings echoed out into the space between you. "Yeah, there you go. Look at you, you're so close."

"I'm -" he struggled, his pretty brown eyes nearly watering from how overwhelmed his senses were. "Fuck” he hissed. “I’m gonna -”

Your stare locked with his, a wicked smile splitting across your face as his release coated the back of your throat. Cum leaking graciously down your chin as you swallowed every last drop you could before placing a light kiss on his tip, admiring how swollen and perfectly pink it was.

He wasn’t sure if it was an angel or the devil himself that had brought you into his life with the beautifully depraved way you were looking back at him, but either way - he was fucking thankful.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

[mistywaves98]

plsplspls nerdy looking & virgin reader and cunty scara 🙏

This req is short but I love it ❤❤

✧･ﾟ:* ->Popular! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: NSFW, Cunnilingus, Slight Public sex(?), Praise, Petnames (good girl, doll)!

Decent grades, large friend groups, money, favouritism among teachers, looks to die for... Scaramouche had it all and he basked in the attention he received. But then there was you, his polar opposite. Aside from being a top student, there were a lot of things that you two didn't have in common. With you being a social outcast, preferring to bury your nose in a book than mingle with others. Not to mention those oversized clothes and weirdly large glasses that somehow framed your face so perfectly.

Scaramouche had only really noticed you when you both were paired up for a project and in that time he couldn't deny that he'd grown a sort of attraction towards you. You were just so goddamn cute in his eyes, so quiet and timid and pure...so corruptible... He'd be lying if he said that he didn't jerk off to the image of those wide eyes staring up at him so cluelessly whenever he talked to you. Or the way your skirt would sometimes ride up a little too high as you sat on his bed, giving him a peek of your panties.

Even after the assignment was handed up, Scaramouche found himself still seeking you out just to be in your company. It was then he realized that you seemed to develop a little thing for him too, getting nervous and overly jumpy whenever he'd enter the room, trying to hide your blush with one of your books, stuttering over your words. and goodness did it make him only crave you more. He finally decided to corner you in the library one day, getting a bit too close as his hands slowly roamed your body. Going lower and lower till they were tugging your skirt down.

And that's how you found yourself getting tongue fucked in a secluded part of the library. Your face was flushed as you sat on the chair which was now a mess of your arousal. One hand covered your mouth to muffle the noises he coaxed out of you, the other tangled in his indigo locks as you tugged him closer, desperate for release. Scaramouche absolutely lived for the sight above him, your sweaty body illuminated under the bright lights of the library adorned with your untidy clothes and disheveled hair.

The way your glasses slipped down your flushed face as you hesitantly met his eyes was absolutely adorable. It only made him want to make you squirt all over his face even more as he increased the pace of his tongue, the wet muscle delving into the tight depths of your gummy walls. His pleased groans vibrated against your sensitive folds, making you throw your head back in bliss as your nails dug into his scalp.

"Mmh... You're close, aren't you, doll? Look at you, falling apart on my tongue like this. You're so fucking cute when you try to keep quiet... But you can't because I'm just making you feel sooo good, aren't I?" Scaramouche drawled in a teasing tone, smirking against your cunt as he saw how it flustered you. He moved his mouth to latch on to your clit instead, plush lips engulfing the swollen bud as he sucks and licks at it feverishly while simultaneously stuffing your drooling pussy with two slender fingers.

The change in pace had your back arching, a loud whine slipping out as your eyes went glassy with tears. He was right, you were going to cum soon. Scaramouche gripped your thighs and threw them over his shoulders, relishing the way they squeezed his head when you did. His digits pumped in and out of you at a reasonable speed, occasionally curling to hit that spot that made you see stars.

It was getting harder to keep your noise on the low, with you practically biting your arm to try and distract yourself. Scaramouche noticed and lightly scraped his teeth against your clit, that little bit of added stimulation sending you over the edge as your eyes rolled to the back of your head while moaning a little louder than you would have liked. You came all over his face, drenching it with your juices. Scaramouche smirked as he pulled his mouth away from your pussy but not before pressing a wet kiss to your clit.

He pushed himself up on his knees, getting closer to your face as he took in your fucked out expression,"You're such a good girl, squirting all over my face like that. You taste absolutely divine..." He used a finger to smear off some of your cum from his face, making a show out of sucking it off just to see you get red in the face again. Then he stood up and switched your places.

Now you were on your knees in front of him while he sat on the chair that was now soaked with your essence. You got a great view of the very noticeable bulge in his pants, a damp spot already forming as he grinned down at you. Scaramouche carded a hand through your hair delicately, desire swirling around in those dark eyes of his as he said in a deceptively sweet tone,"Hmm, I wonder what people would say if they heard the nerd was sucking off the popular kid in the library?"

[luffington]

i need stoner!aokiji fic PLEASE

✧.* art credit!

➤ pairing: aokiji (kuzan) x afab!reader

➤ word count: 836

➤ warnings: drug use, established relationship, pre-timeskip aokiji, cockwarming, nipple play, oral (f receiving), temperature play (it's inevitable), voyeurism, brief mention of kizaru x reader

sorry i took forever to write this... i'm STARVED for aokiji content with where i am in the anime right now but he showed up for 5 seconds in a filler arc so now i'm ready to go :3

written in headcanon-ish bullet format!

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Aokiji is laid-back and lazy all the time so it's hard to tell when he's stoned or not. Sometimes you'll come back to your shared place at Navy HQ to find the entire house reeking of weed, your boyfriend relaxing on the couch with his long legs spread wide and smoke pouring from his lips. He greets you with a casual "yo" and offers you his half-smoked blunt.

He is canonically a boobs man. You sit in his lap, cockwarming his massive dick, as he slips one of his big hands under your bra to fondle your right tit like a stress ball, squeezing and kneading at the soft skin.

He peers over your shoulder to skim the daily newspaper with hazy, unfocused eyes. Pretends to glance at the Navy papers he's supposed to look over (his ass is NOT reading!). Eventually, he gives up and pulls off your shirt and bra to really play with your tits.

Grabbing them hard enough for flesh to spill out between the cracks of his fingers, rolling them around and jiggling them. His chilly breath tickles your ear as his cold fingers tweak your nipples until they're stiff. He twists one harshly to hear you gasp, then chuckles and soothes it by rubbing his thumb gently over the areola.

When you inevitably get cotton mouth, he pushes two fingers between your lips and lets you swirl your tongue around them as if they're ice cubes. If it gets really bad, he'll actually create ice for you to suck on. Any part of him inside you turns him on, even if it's from his abilities.

Lazy man does drug that makes him lazier… he is horizontal the entire night. Good thing you love sitting on his face!

Aokiji’s strong hands grip your thighs and hold you flush against his face, drowning himself in your wet cunt. He slurps noisily at your juices, licking and kissing all over your vulva. Makes sure to wrap his plush lips around your clit, tonguing at the sensitive bud and sucking on it like his life depends on it.

Every sensation is intensified by the eternal iciness of his body. You cry out his name as he fucks you with his cold, slick tongue. You can’t help but grind on his face, losing yourself to pleasure and the haziness of marijuana. You almost feel bad for practically suffocating him until he groans, “Just like that, baby. Ride my face with that cute little pussy.”

He moans when you cum, slick gushing all over his lips and chin. Your chest heaves as you crawl off of him with shaky legs and plop down on the bed next to him. “Shit. Delicious as always, baby,” he drawls as he grabs a new blunt and lights it. “Alright, hop on my dick.”

You roll your eyes — he’s just so romantic. You’d already ridden him reverse cowgirl style after he got tired of cockwarming, but his dick was back at full hardness just from eating your pussy. You don’t think he even touched himself during it.

So you do as he asks, the weed making you especially horny, anyways. Wispy smoke pours from your parted lips as you lazily grind on his fat cock, stretching your insides deliciously and filling you up so good.

Slow and lazy sex is kinda his thing, unless he’s riled up from a particularly difficult assignment. (And even then, he has time to calm down on his lethargic bike ride home. You think it’s just an excuse to fuck you dumb.)

Aokiji sits up on his elbows to suck your nipples messily, spit running down the swell of your breast. Making obscene slurping noises that have your eyes rolling back into your head. When he gets close, he thumbs your clit in tight circles to make sure you cum together.

You moan and throw your head back as your third orgasm of the night washes over you. He lets out the deepest, sexiest moan as his cum fills you up to the brim.

He’s snoring two minutes later. You shuffle to get out of bed and grab a snack, but his strong arms wrap around your waist, spooning you from behind. Guess you’re stuck there!

Kizaru is his dealer (the true stoner king of the Marines) and somehow always gets the highest quality weed. He usually comes over for a smoke sesh with you and Aokiji when he gets a new strain he thinks you'll enjoy. He likes to watch the two of you fuck, sitting across the room watching attentively from behind his sunglasses and palming the fat bulge in his pants. Sometimes he asks to join in. It's up to you to decide -- Aokiji doesn't care either way, as long as one of your tight holes is wrapped around his cock.

(Akainu always screams at them when they show up to work high. Neither of them care. Threatens to snitch to Sengoku but Kizaru sold him an ounce last week so 🤷‍♀️)

[ccraccz]

I think this sounds so funny but could you write how the winbre trio (Sakura, Nirei & Suo) would react if f!reader is working at a maid cafe. Totally wearing the cutest pink maid uniform and calling them "Goshujin-sama" (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

AAAA SO SO CUTTTEEE!!! I believe their reactions would be so so fuunnnnyyyy!!! Thank you for the request sweet anon!! <3333

MASTER?!

Characters: Sakura Haruka, Nirei Akihiko, Suo Hayato x F!reader

WARNINGS: may be a little suggestive in some way,

SAKURA HARUKA

he was basically dragged here

Sadly, Kotoha had fallen sick and the normal meeting spot for the whole group was closed, so they decided the next best thing

A new cafe had just opened a few stores away, so they walked over, not really knowing what to expect.

But what Sakura didn't expect was to see you, someone he recently helped, in a baby pink maid outfit with white accents, breasts pressed together tightly, cute white and pink striped thigh high stockings decorated with bows, and wearing the cutest white shoes that made a light clacking noise every time you took a step

You waved at them, calling out for their attention while walking fast

"Goshujin-sama!!! It's great to see you again! Please follow me, I'll seat you and..." As you walked towards them, your chest seemed to almost have a life of its own, and when you arrived closer to them, quickly grabbing the menus before tripping on air, and falling into his arms.

"A-Ah! I'm so so Sorry Goshujin-sama!!"

He blue screened

Sakura Haruka is no longer working

Please reboot

His face is burning, his shoulders are almost at his ears, and his head is basically steaming

Nirei had to basically push him forwards to their seat, Suo laughing at Sakura because of how sensitive he is to others

"Goshujin-sama! Here are the menus, please do take your time to find something you enjoy, and if you need some help, please do call me over! I'll be sure to do my best!"

After what happened a few minutes before, Sakura was wide eyed and unresponsive the whole time

Suo had to order him both a drink and food, because if not, he wouldn't have even ordered.

And just to torture him more, he was sitting near you, so every time you walked by, he would be able to see you from his peripheral vision

Sometimes, when you came to check on them, you had to break character to ask them if he was alright and if you needed to call for someone

but Suo just told you everything was fine

When they left, you informed them that the meal and drinks were free as they were part of Bofurin

And also, even if they weren't,, you would have paid for Sakura's part since he saved you, twice now

Suo left Sakura's phone number on the table just for you in the end.

NIREI AKIHIKO

This cutey knew from the start what he was getting himself into

walking inside, he just wanted a cute place to relax, experience something new, and write down some new information of the guys he wasn't able to finish off on his notebook

so why not the cute, new, maid cafe?

"We-Welcome Goshujin-sama..." You greet, holding the menu close to your chest. "Please... Follow me to your seat!" Every step you took to lead him to his seat made your hair bob, and the skirt of your maid costume

He found you to just be so so cute! Wearing a light pink maid dress, with matching bows in your hair, cute glasses on your face moving from their position every time you rush to get to the kitchen with a new order, baby pink stockings being held up by the cutest white cat graters, and some very bulky heels to accommodate your height

You thought that he was super cute too, his freckles, and how he blushed every time you came to check on him

He was sweet, and gentle with how he spoke, and didn't try to touch you

You guys were able to make some small talk together, both of you stuttering here and there, when you came to check on him and the meal, that was a medium size slice of confetti cake with a gorgeous cup of melon soda

You both talked about your day, what each of you have done, and more with large blushes on both of your faces

He sometimes asked some weird question, which you found a bit endearing.

But when it was time for him to leave, he was sure to thank you and you bowed and waved him off, a small blush on your cheeks and he stuttered a good bye

"G-Good bye Goshujin-sama! Please come back soon!" You call out to him

SUO HAYATO

His favorite tea shop was closed today, so he went for the next best thing

the most recently opened maid cafe that was closer to him than the usual tea house he goes to

and from the ratings on their site, they seemed to also have a few good teas and cakes

While he isn't one to go to a place where you have to interact with someone so much, he might as well get out of his comfort zone

Right when he entered, a few 'maids' turned their heads towards him, blushing at the mysterious male

sadly, for them, their areas were already filled with men and women

minus yours

"Welcome Goshujin-sama," You bowed, a gentle but unemotional smile on your face as you greeted him. You didn't like acting like this, but it was your turn to be the 'kuudere.' Many people don't want the host to be a kuudere, so your bookings were almost free compared to the tsundere and deredere. "Please do follow me to your seat," he smiles back, nodding and walking behind you with his hands behind his back.

he though you were cute, your pink maid costume barely covered your legs, your thighs spilling from the tight thigh highs, them rubbing against each other every step you take, white heels making you taller than him by an inch or two, and cute little bows decorating your hair and uniform

you showed him his seat before pulling at the skirt, trying to have it cover your legs just a bit more

"Please do inform me if you need anything, Goshujin-sama," You smile, placing the menu in front of him before leaving to attend to another customer who was calling you over to them.

Suo waited a bit before waving you over again and asking you what your favorite tea cakes and teas are and got those

at first he didn't understand what was enjoyable about this, but after meeting you and how quick you were, he understood

he especially liked when he was able to make you break out of character and blush with his teasing

in the end, he paid his bill, and you came back with a little gift bag that was given to all new customers and gave it to him, a small smile on your face

inside that small gift bag was some mochi's and small tea cakes, some red tassel earrings, and a note

the note contained your number, a little doodle in the corner of it <3

[amethystarachnid]

Hey rose! I hope you're doing alright! I absolutely adore your Tony stark fics!! I hope you'd write one for Steve Rogers or loki. Can you write something with any one of them where their partner (reader) is very emotional, like cries at tv shows and books, can never NOT tear up when any of them say anything romantic or meaningful. And as much as they don't want their partner to cry, they feel really appreciated. Just loads of fluff! Thank you!<3🩵

P.s. ofc feel free to change or add anything you fell like. Appreciate it!

HAPPY TEARS

⤷ STEVE G. ROGERS

ᯓ★ Pairing: Steve G. Rogers x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Requests status: open

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Summary: You have always been the sensitive type, crying over movies and every sweet thing Steve did for you, and that's one of the reasons he loves you so much but, at the same it, it gets him worried for your possible reaction to the question that has been in his mind for sometime now.

ᯓ★ Word count: 8K

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing just pure fluff and just like a few words about a passionate night

ᯓ★ As always, since reader's gender isn't specified in the ask I'll write it as fem!reader because I'm a girl and it's what I'm more used to write, but if you want it to be with another gender are sure to specify it in your ask and I'll write it! <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air, warm and inviting. It greets you before you even open your eyes, a little luxury of the life you’ve built together. Your sleepy mind pieces together the familiar sounds of Steve moving around the kitchen—the soft clink of the coffee pot returning to its base, the gentle scrape of a plate across the counter.

He’s making breakfast.

The thought alone tugs at your heart. After seven years together, Steve Rogers still finds a way to make every morning feel special, no matter how ordinary. You pull the blanket tighter around you and close your eyes for a moment, letting the sound of his hums blend with the noise of the city beyond the window. It’s moments like these, the quiet ones, that remind you just how deeply you’re loved.

By the time you shuffle into the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, he’s plating up pancakes. He’s not wearing a shirt, just his gray sweatpants sitting low on his hips, and his blond hair is damp and tousled like he’s already gone for a run. It’s infuriating how good he looks, even at this hour.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he says, flashing you that boyish smile, the one that makes your stomach flip even now.

You give him a sleepy grin in return, padding toward him on bare feet. His hand automatically finds the small of your back as you lean into him, your cheek pressing against his chest. For a moment, there’s no one else in the world but the two of you.

“You didn’t have to get up so early,” you mumble against his skin, your voice still thick with sleep.

“You were out like a light,” he says, his hand running gently up and down your spine. “Figured I’d let you sleep in a little.” His voice is low, affectionate, and entirely too effective at making your heart melt.

When you pull back, he tips your chin up with one finger, his blue eyes scanning your face like it’s the first time he’s seen you. “Coffee?” he asks, already stepping away to grab your favorite mug from the counter.

You watch him pour the coffee, a soft smile playing on your lips. He’s careful, deliberate, like he’s handling something precious. And you suppose, in his eyes, he is.

As he hands you the mug, his fingers brush yours, sending a spark of warmth through you. The gesture is small but thoughtful, the way so many of his gestures are. Seven years, and he still makes you feel like you’re worth all the time and effort in the world.

The first sip of coffee is heavenly, and you sigh contentedly as you sink into one of the kitchen chairs. Steve sits across from you, his long legs stretching out under the table, and slides a plate of pancakes in your direction. “Banana chocolate chip,” he says. “Thought you might want something sweet today.”

Your eyes go wide. “You made these just for me?”

His laugh is soft and teasing. “Who else would I make them for?”

Your chest tightens at the sincerity in his voice, and before you can stop it, tears start to blur your vision.

Steve freezes mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air. “Hey,” he says gently, already moving his chair closer to yours. “What’s wrong?” His hand lands lightly on your knee, his thumb stroking small circles there.

You shake your head, letting out a watery laugh. “Nothing’s wrong. I just…” You glance down at the pancakes, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotions. “You made me pancakes.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, clearly not understanding why that’s enough to turn you into a mess. “And?”

“And you made them the way I like them,” you sniff, wiping at your eyes. “With the chocolate chips on top, not mixed in, because you know I like the crunch.” Your voice cracks slightly, and you look up at him, feeling ridiculous for crying over pancakes. “You’re too good to me.”

His expression softens instantly, a mix of affection and bemusement. He moves his chair even closer, until his knees bump yours. “Sweetheart,” he says, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs catching the stray tears. “It’s just pancakes.”

“No, it’s not,” you insist, your voice a little shaky. “It’s… it’s that you always think of these little things. You always go out of your way to make me happy.” You gesture toward the plate, then to him. “Even after all this time, you still do stuff like this.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, his expression unreadable. Then he smiles, leaning in to press his lips softly against your forehead. “I hope you know I don’t do any of this because I feel like I have to,” he murmurs. “I do it because I want to. Because seeing you happy is worth it. Every single time.”

His words are a balm, soothing the tight ache in your chest, and you let out a shaky laugh. “Well, congratulations,” you say, trying for levity. “You made me cry before breakfast again.”

“Again?” he echoes, chuckling softly. “I’m starting to think it’s my superpower.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, even as you swipe at your damp cheeks. “You’d give Tony a run for his money.”

“I’ll let him know,” Steve says with a wink, sliding the plate closer to you. “Now eat your pancakes before they get cold.”

You roll your eyes, but the teasing warmth in his tone makes you reach for your fork. The first bite is everything you expected—soft, sweet, and rich with the perfect balance of flavors. You moan appreciatively, and Steve grins at the sound, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Good?” he asks, resting his chin on one hand as he watches you.

“Good,” you say around a mouthful of pancake, the tension in your chest easing with every bite.

For a while, the two of you eat in companionable silence, the kind that only comes from years of knowing and loving each other. Steve tells you about his run—how Sam gave him grief for being late to their meeting spot, how the park was unusually crowded this morning—and you listen with a soft smile, chiming in occasionally with little jokes or questions.

But even as the conversation flows, you can see the way Steve keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, like he’s still trying to puzzle you out. He’s always been like this, endlessly patient, endlessly curious about the way your mind works.

Finally, he sets his fork down and leans back in his chair, studying you. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how sensitive you are.”

You pause mid-bite, your fork hovering just shy of your lips. “Is that a bad thing?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious.

“Not at all,” he says quickly, his expression earnest. “I mean it in the best way. You feel everything so deeply, and… I don’t know. It amazes me, I guess. How you can look at something as simple as pancakes and see all the love behind it.”

Your cheeks warm at his words, and you glance down at your plate. “I don’t mean to make a big deal out of things,” you mumble. “I just… I can’t help it. When you do something sweet, it gets to me.”

He reaches across the table, his hand covering yours. “I don’t want you to help it,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I love that about you. I love that you cry over movies and surprise gifts and little things like pancakes. It reminds me to slow down and appreciate those things too.”

You blink at him, your throat tightening all over again. “You mean that?”

“Every word,” he says, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “So, if you feel like crying over pancakes or anything else, go ahead. I’ll be here to catch the tears.”

It’s too much—his words, his presence, the unshakable love in his eyes. Before you can stop yourself, you’re crying again, this time out of sheer gratitude. Steve just laughs softly and moves to your side, pulling you into his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I love you,” you whisper against his chest, your voice trembling.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the top of your head. “More than anything.”

Friday nights at the Tower are sacred—a time to unwind, laugh, and for Tony Stark to force his eclectic taste in movies on the rest of the Avengers. Tonight, the team has assembled in the massive home theater, complete with a state-of-the-art sound system, plush recliners, and enough snacks to sustain a small army.

You’re curled up next to Steve on one of the oversized couches, your legs tucked beneath you and your head leaning on his shoulder. His arm is draped casually around you, and he’s absently playing with the ends of your hair as Tony prowls the front of the room, remote in hand, his enthusiasm palpable.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Tony announces, dramatically pointing the remote like it’s a scepter, “tonight’s feature presentation is the cinematic masterpiece, Titanic.”

Groans ripple through the group.

“Tony, again?” Natasha asks, leaning back in her seat with a smirk. “You have a billion-dollar movie collection, and you keep picking this one.”

“It’s called having taste, Romanoff,” Tony retorts, tossing her a packet of Red Vines. “Some of us recognize greatness when we see it. This movie has it all: romance, drama, social commentary, and the single greatest piece of floating debris in cinematic history.”

“It’s a door,” Clint says flatly.

“It’s art,” Tony snaps back, dramatically clutching his chest like he’s been wounded.

Steve chuckles under his breath, squeezing your shoulder gently. “You okay with this one?” he asks, his voice low and warm. “We can always sneak out and watch something else.”

You shake your head, giving him a small, teary smile. “No, it’s fine. I just… I’m probably going to cry.”

“I know,” he says softly, brushing a kiss to your temple. “It’s okay.”

The others are still bickering as the lights dim and the iconic opening notes of James Horner’s score fill the room. You take a deep breath, already bracing yourself. You’ve seen Titanic before—enough times to know that you’re in for an emotional ride—but somehow, the anticipation makes it worse.

It doesn’t take long. By the time Rose boards the ship and gazes out at the ocean, your eyes are already brimming with tears. The sheer scale of the doomed ship, the haunting foreshadowing—it all hits you at once.

“Uh, are you okay?” Bruce whispers from the seat next to you, looking genuinely concerned.

“Yeah,” you manage, your voice thick. “I just… I know what’s going to happen.”

Steve, unfazed, reaches into the bowl of popcorn and pops a kernel into his mouth. “This is normal,” he explains casually to Bruce, his tone as calm as if he were describing the weather. “She gets emotional during movies. It’s just how she is.”

Bruce nods slowly, his brow furrowing like he’s trying to understand. “But… it’s barely started.”

“She’s a big feeler,” Steve says with a shrug, pulling you a little closer as your sniffles grow louder.

“Is someone crying already?” Tony hisses from the front row, twisting around to squint into the dim light. When his eyes land on you, he raises an eyebrow. “We haven’t even hit the iceberg. You know that, right?”

“She knows,” Steve replies evenly, not even looking up from the screen. He grabs a tissue from the box he always keeps nearby during movie nights—specifically for you—and hands it to you without missing a beat.

Tony’s jaw drops. “You brought tissues specifically for this?”

“Of course,” Steve says, as though it’s obvious. “It happens every time.”

The group exchanges looks, equal parts bewildered and amused, but Steve just leans down to kiss the top of your head. “You’re okay,” he murmurs, his voice soothing. “Just let it out.”

“Wow,” Clint says, his tone dripping with mock admiration. “You’re a braver man than I am, Rogers.”

The movie marches on, each scene tugging at your heartstrings with surgical precision. Jack and Rose meet. They fall in love. They dance in third class and spit off the back of the ship. By the time they’re standing on the prow, their arms spread wide as the wind rushes around them, you’re openly sobbing into Steve’s chest.

“Am I supposed to do something?” Bruce whispers, looking helplessly at Steve.

“Nope,” Steve replies, rubbing slow circles on your back. “Just let her cry. She’ll feel better afterward.”

“I’m not sure that’s how crying works,” Bruce mutters, but he stays quiet, occasionally passing you another tissue.

Tony, meanwhile, is watching you with thinly veiled amusement. “I’ve gotta ask,” he says during a quieter moment, “do you cry at every movie, or is this one just special?”

“Not every movie,” Steve says, his lips twitching into a small smile. “But most of them. Especially the ones with tragic endings.”

“That’s an understatement,” Natasha says dryly. “Remember Finding Nemo?”

Clint snorts. “Oh, that was legendary. We weren’t even five minutes in, and she was already bawling over the mom dying.”

Tony looks scandalized. “Finding Nemo? That’s a kids’ movie!”

“And yet…” Clint gestures toward you, now hiccupping softly as Jack and Rose sneak into the cargo hold for their iconic steamy scene.

“She just feels things deeply,” Steve says, his voice laced with affection. “It’s one of the things I love about her.”

Tony groans dramatically, throwing a handful of popcorn in Steve’s direction. “You’re making the rest of us look bad, Rogers. Stop being so disgustingly wholesome.”

“Not my fault you guys don’t bring tissues for your girlfriends,” Steve shoots back, his smirk widening.

By the time the ship hits the iceberg, the mood in the room has shifted. Even Tony has gone quiet, though he’s clearly trying to maintain his composure. You, on the other hand, are a wreck. The sight of the passengers scrambling for lifeboats, the haunting wails of the violinists playing “Nearer My God to Thee”—it’s too much.

Your sobs reach a crescendo as Jack and Rose cling to each other in the freezing water, their breaths ragged and visible in the frigid air. Steve adjusts his hold on you, tucking your head under his chin and murmuring soft reassurances.

“I’ll never let go, Jack!” Rose cries, her voice breaking.

You lose it completely, clutching at Steve’s shirt as though your own heart is breaking. Steve strokes your hair, his voice calm and steady. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here.”

Tony, meanwhile, is blinking rapidly, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “What?” he says defensively when Clint raises an eyebrow at him. “It’s allergies. Big-screen projectors always make my eyes water.”

Natasha snickers. “Sure they do.”

As the credits roll, you’re still hiccupping softly, your face buried in Steve’s chest. He doesn’t seem to mind, his hand moving in a soothing rhythm along your back.

“Okay, that was… intense,” Bruce says, looking around the room like he’s not sure what just happened.

“I’m pretty sure I lost three pounds in tears,” Clint adds, tossing an empty box of tissues onto the table. “Do we have a hydration station somewhere?”

Tony sniffs loudly and stands, stretching his arms overhead. “Well, folks, that’s how you do cinema. Epic. Heartbreaking. Unforgettable.”

“Admit it, you cried,” Natasha says, smirking at him.

“I did no such thing,” Tony replies, looking deeply offended. “Unlike some people…” He gestures dramatically toward you, still snuggled against Steve.

“Hey,” Steve says with a shrug, his tone as casual as ever. “She’s passionate. It’s one of the reasons I love her.”

“You’re an actual saint,” Clint mutters, shaking his head.

You finally lift your head, your cheeks streaked with tears but your eyes shining with gratitude. “Thanks for letting me cry all over you,” you say softly to Steve, your voice still wobbly.

“Anytime,” he replies, his smile warm and unwavering. “You know I’ve got you.”

Tony groans loudly, throwing his hands in the air. “And this,” he says, gesturing wildly at the two of you, “is why I’m never inviting you to movie night again. You two are too cute, and it’s ruining the vibe.”

“Tony, you’re just mad because you cried,” Natasha quips.

“I did not cry!” Tony protests, his voice rising an octave.

Bruce chuckles, leaning back in his seat. “Whatever you say, Tony.”

As the group dissolves into laughter, Steve leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You okay now?” he asks, his voice just for you.

You nod, your heart swelling with love for the man who always makes space for your emotions, no matter how messy they are. “I am,” you whisper. “Thanks to you.”

“Good,” he murmurs, pulling you close. “Because we’re definitely sneaking out before Tony picks another three-hour tearjerker.”

You laugh through the last of your sniffles, feeling safe and loved in his arms. As far as you’re concerned, there’s no better way to end a movie night.

After the emotional rollercoaster of Titanic, the Avengers agree on one thing: no more movies that could make you cry. Steve, ever the supportive boyfriend, gently suggests a comedy for the next round, earning nods from everyone in the room. Even Tony, slightly miffed from being accused (rightfully) of shedding a tear during Rose’s tearful farewell to Jack, throws in his agreement.

“Alright, team,” Tony announces, striding to the movie library with a flourish. “Since apparently, I’ve been overly ambitious in my cinematic choices, I’ll keep it light. Comedy. Laughs. Penguins falling over or something. Nobody cries at penguins, right?”

“Right,” you say with an encouraging smile, though your earlier sob session has left your voice hoarse.

Steve wraps an arm around your shoulder, his lips brushing your temple. “You sure you’re up for another movie?”

You nod enthusiastically. “I’m good. Something funny sounds perfect.”

The new movie is a slapstick comedy involving ridiculous pratfalls, a few over-the-top explosions (Tony’s insistence), and a hilarious subplot about a cat that keeps stealing its owner’s Wi-Fi password. It’s everything you need to decompress from the earlier emotional onslaught, and soon the room is filled with the sound of laughter.

Even Steve, who isn’t always in sync with modern humor, is chuckling at the absurd antics on screen. You’re curled up next to him, giggling into his shoulder as a character accidentally sets his kitchen on fire trying to make toast. Across the room, Tony and Clint are reenacting a particularly ridiculous dance scene, complete with exaggerated hip thrusts.

“See?” Tony says triumphantly, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. “This is how you do a movie night. Fun! Light! No tears.”

Natasha arches an eyebrow at him, clearly unimpressed by his theatrics. “Give it time, Stark. We’re not done yet.”

Hours later, after the comedy has ended and a few rounds of drinks have been poured, Tony somehow stumbles upon a nature documentary titled The Journey of Life. The cover features an adorable penguin waddling across a snowy landscape, and Tony declares it “perfect background noise.”

“This,” he slurs slightly, pointing at the screen, “is what we need. Penguins. Cute, waddling, ice-sliding penguins. No emotions. Just vibes.”

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Bruce asks cautiously, but Tony is already pressing play, plopping down on the couch with a fresh drink in hand.

Steve looks at you, his eyebrow raised in question. “You okay with this?”

“It’s just penguins,” you reply with a shrug, snuggling into his side. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

At first, it’s exactly what Tony promised. The documentary opens with breathtaking shots of snowy mountains and vast, icy plains. The narrator’s soothing British accent describes the challenges of survival in the harsh Antarctic environment as a colony of emperor penguins waddles across the frozen landscape.

“Oh my god, look at them!” you exclaim, your eyes lighting up. “They’re so cute!”

“They’re ridiculous,” Tony says with a chuckle. “Like tiny, overdressed toddlers. I love them.”

Everyone relaxes, lulled by the majestic scenery and the gentle cadence of the narrator’s voice. Even Steve seems to be enjoying himself, his hand absentmindedly stroking your back as you watch the penguins slide on their bellies and huddle together for warmth.

It starts with a single penguin chick—fluffy, wide-eyed, and impossibly adorable. It stumbles away from the group, its tiny feet slipping on the ice as it struggles to keep up with its parents. The narrator explains, in heartbreakingly calm tones, that not every chick survives the journey to the feeding grounds.

“No,” you whisper, your hand flying to your mouth as the camera zooms in on the chick’s desperate waddling. “No, no, no. Someone help him!”

“It’s nature,” Clint says uncomfortably, shifting in his seat. “It happens.”

“Doesn’t mean we have to watch it!” Tony snaps, his earlier bravado evaporating. His face is red, and he’s gripping his whiskey glass a little too tightly.

Steve sighs, pulling you closer as your sniffles begin. “It’s just a documentary, sweetheart. It’s the circle of life.”

“Circle of life my ass,” Tony grumbles, his voice thick. “That chick deserves better.”

As the chick stumbles farther away, your tears begin in earnest. “He’s lost! He’s so little! Steve, he’s not going to make it, is he?”

Steve pats your back, his voice soft but resigned. “Probably not, sweetheart.”

“Why are we watching this?” Tony demands, pointing an accusatory finger at Bruce. “You should’ve stopped me! You’re the smart one!”

“I didn’t know it was going to get sad!” Bruce protests, throwing up his hands. “It’s a documentary about penguins!”

By the time the chick’s fate is sealed (you can’t even bring yourself to look as the narrator solemnly declares that it’s “a tragic but essential part of the ecosystem”), you and Tony are both a mess. You’re clutching Steve’s shirt, sobbing into his chest, while Tony sniffles loudly into his empty glass.

“It’s not fair,” you cry, your voice muffled. “He was just a baby!”

“I know,” Tony says, his voice cracking. “He didn’t even get a��chance! He deserved a chance!” He gestures wildly at the screen. “Why didn’t they save him? Someone could’ve—”

“It’s a documentary,” Natasha interrupts dryly, though even she looks mildly uncomfortable. “No one’s interfering.”

“That’s barbaric,” Tony declares, wiping at his eyes. “I’m calling PETA.”

Steve kisses the top of your head, his hand running soothingly along your back. “You want to stop watching?” he offers quietly.

“No,” you hiccup, though you’re clearly still devastated. “I need to see if the others are okay.”

The documentary continues, alternating between moments of lighthearted penguin antics and devastating tragedies. Each time something sad happens, you and Tony are reduced to tears, much to the bemusement of the rest of the team.

By the end of the film, when the surviving penguins finally reach their feeding grounds and triumphantly slide into the water, you and Tony are clinging to each other like war survivors.

“That was horrific,” Tony declares, dabbing at his eyes with a napkin. “Whoever made that documentary is a monster. I need a drink.”

“You’ve had several drinks,” Natasha points out, rolling her eyes.

“Not enough to erase that from my memory,” Tony replies dramatically. He glances at you, his expression softening slightly. “You okay, cry queen?”

You manage a shaky smile. “I think so. That was just… a lot.”

Steve, ever your rock, kisses your temple and pulls you close. “I don’t think we’ll be watching documentaries again anytime soon,” he murmurs.

“Seconded,” Tony says, raising his glass. “To no more emotional devastation disguised as education. Who’s with me?”

“Agreed,” Clint says, shaking his head. “No more penguins. Ever.”

As the team dissolves into laughter and lighthearted teasing, you snuggle deeper into Steve’s arms, feeling safe despite the emotional rollercoaster. No matter how many tears you shed — or how often Tony joins you — you know you’ll always have the world’s most patient boyfriend by your side.

The tower is unusually quiet after the emotional whirlwind of the movie night. The penguins have long since waddled off the screen, the room cleaned up from the chaos of snack wrappers and spilled drinks. You’re asleep now, curled up on the couch with your head resting in Steve’s lap, the faint remnants of tears drying on your cheeks.

The others linger, nursing drinks or settling into the comfortable post-movie quiet. Steve’s hand moves gently over your hair, his touch instinctive and protective as he listens to the idle conversation around him.

“Poor thing,” Natasha says softly, nodding toward you. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone cry so much over a documentary.”

“Speak for yourself,” Clint retorts, jerking a thumb at Tony. “He went through an entire roll of tissues.”

Tony, leaning back in his chair with his drink in hand, glares. “It’s called empathy, Barton. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Empathy,” Natasha repeats dryly, raising an eyebrow. “Or maybe whiskey?”

“A little of column A, a little of column B,” Tony mutters, waving her off. His gaze flicks toward you, then back to Steve. “You’ve got the patience of a saint, Rogers. How do you do it?”

Steve chuckles softly, looking down at you with a fondness so deep it’s almost tangible. “I love her,” he says simply, his voice quiet but steady. “She feels everything so deeply, and yeah, that means a lot of tears, but it’s also what makes her so special. She’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Aww,” Clint says, his tone mocking but not unkind. “Cap’s going all gooey on us.”

Steve shakes his head with a smile, but there’s something thoughtful in his expression, something weighing on him. He glances at the team, then back at you, as if debating whether to say more. Finally, after a moment’s hesitation, he clears his throat.

“There’s actually something I’ve been meaning to talk to you all about,” he begins, his voice low. “I want to ask her to marry me.”

The room goes still. Natasha blinks, her eyebrows lifting slightly. Bruce, who’s been quietly sipping his tea, looks up with a small, surprised smile. Tony leans forward, suddenly all ears.

“Well, that’s not shocking,” Clint says, breaking the silence. “You’ve been together, what, seven years? We were wondering when you were going to pop the question.”

Steve nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, it’s been a while. I’ve known for a long time that she’s the one. But…” He hesitates, his eyes dropping to your sleeping form. His hand brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch featherlight. “I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” Bruce asks gently.

Steve lets out a soft sigh, his brow furrowing. “Her reaction. She’s so sensitive, and she gets overwhelmed easily. What if I ask and she has a panic attack? Or starts crying so much she can’t even answer me? I just… I don’t want to put her through that.”

Tony snorts. “You’re worried she’s going to cry? Newsflash, Rogers: she cries when you bring her coffee in bed. This is a proposal, man. Of course she’s going to cry.”

“Tony,” Natasha says, shooting him a warning look. “He’s being serious.”

“I am serious,” Tony retorts. “Look, she’s emotional, yeah, but she’s not fragile. She loves you, Rogers. That’s the whole point. She’s not going to freak out because you ask her to marry her—well, not in a bad way, at least.”

Steve looks unconvinced. “I know she loves me,” he says quietly. “But I also know how overwhelming things can be for her. I don’t want to put her in a position where she feels pressured or out of control.”

Natasha tilts her head, studying him with that sharp, analytical gaze of hers. “So don’t make it overwhelming,” she says simply. “You don’t have to plan some elaborate proposal. Just talk to her. Make it quiet, intimate. Something that feels safe.”

“Yeah,” Bruce adds, his tone thoughtful. “She’s not the kind of person who needs a big show, is she? She’d probably appreciate something small, just the two of you.”

Steve nods slowly, his mind working through their words. “You’re right. She doesn’t like big gestures. She always says the little things matter more to her.”

“Exactly,” Natasha says. “So make it one of those little things. Something simple but meaningful.”

Tony, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet for the past minute, suddenly speaks up. “And if she does cry,” he says, his voice unusually soft, “it’s not because she’s scared or upset. It’s because she loves you so much she doesn’t know how else to show it.”

The room falls silent at that, the weight of Tony’s words settling over them. Steve looks around at his teammates—his family—and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Thanks,” he says softly. “I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime,” Natasha replies, a rare smile tugging at her lips.

The apartment is quiet, the kind of warm, serene quiet that feels like a cocoon against the bustling world outside. It’s just the two of you tonight, the city’s hum dimmed by the thick curtains and the steady rhythm of the life you’ve built together. Dinner was simple but perfect—Steve made your favorite meal, and you couldn’t stop laughing when he got flour on his nose halfway through baking the dessert. Now, the dishes are done, the candles still flicker softly on the dining table, and the scent of warm vanilla lingers in the air.

Steve’s been acting a little off all evening. Not in a bad way, but in that telltale way that you’ve come to recognize over the years. He’s quieter than usual, thoughtful, his blue eyes darting to you and away as though he’s trying to solve a puzzle in his head. You’ve asked him twice if everything’s okay, and both times he’s smiled at you and said, “Of course,” before steering the conversation somewhere else.

You’re curled up on the couch now, a blanket draped over your lap as you sip the last of your wine. Steve sits beside you, his arm stretched along the back of the couch, his fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder. His gaze lingers on you, soft and reverent, like you’re the only thing in the world worth looking at.

“Steve,” you say, turning to him with a playful smile. “You’re staring.”

“Am I?” he replies, though he doesn’t look away. His lips curve into that small, lopsided grin you adore, and your heart does its familiar flip-flop in your chest.

“Yes, you are,” you tease, nudging his leg with your foot. “What’s on your mind?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. His hand moves to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and deliberate, as though he’s memorizing the shape of you. Then he leans back slightly, his hand slipping into his pocket.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” he says, his voice calm but carrying a weight that makes your stomach flutter.

Your brows knit together as you sit up straighter. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s more than okay,” he says softly, and there’s a flicker of nervousness in his eyes now, a vulnerability that catches you off guard. He shifts, moving from the couch to kneel in front of you, his hands resting lightly on your knees.

Your heart skips. “Steve—”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, velvet box. The sight of it steals the breath from your lungs, and you clasp a hand over your mouth as tears instantly pool in your eyes.

“I know how you’re feeling right now,” Steve says gently, his voice steady despite the faint blush creeping up his neck. “And I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay?”

You try—really, you do—but the tears are already spilling over, and a choked laugh escapes you as you press your fingers to your lips. Steve smiles, his thumb brushing over your knee.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of affection. He opens the box, revealing a stunningly simple yet beautiful ring—a delicate gold band with a single, glittering diamond. It’s understated and timeless, just like him, and it’s so perfect you can barely breathe.

“Y/N,” he begins, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve loved you for seven years. From the first moment we met, I knew there was something about you, something I couldn’t let go of. You’ve taught me what it means to live in the present, to love with my whole heart, and to find joy in the little things.”

Your tears are flowing freely now, and you’re shaking your head as though you can’t believe what’s happening. Steve chuckles softly, his own eyes glistening.

“You’ve stood by me through everything,” he continues. “Through battles, through doubts, through all the times I’ve struggled to figure out where I fit in this world. You’ve always been my home, my safe place. And I can’t imagine spending another day without you by my side.”

He pauses, his voice catching slightly, and for a moment, you see a flicker of vulnerability in his expression. “I know how deeply you feel things, and I know this might be overwhelming for you. But I promise, sweetheart, you don’t have to say anything right away. I just need you to know how much I love you.”

He takes a deep breath, his gaze unwavering. “So, Y/N,” he says, his voice trembling just the tiniest bit. “Will you marry me?”

The question lands like a thunderclap in your chest. You’re crying so hard now that you can barely see him through the blur of your tears. You try to speak, to form words, but they come out in a jumble of half-sobs and gasps.

“Steve—oh my god—I—” You press your hands to your cheeks, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions coursing through you. “I—I don’t—”

Steve waits patiently, his hands still steady on your knees, his expression soft and understanding. “Take your time, sweetheart,” he says quietly.

“I love you,” you finally manage to choke out, your voice trembling. “So much. You don’t even know—I just—”

Steve smiles, the kind of smile that feels like sunlight breaking through clouds. “I think I have an idea,” he says softly.

You laugh through your tears, shaking your head as you try to pull yourself together. “Yes,” you finally gasp, your voice breaking on the word. “Yes, Steve. Of course, yes.”

His breath leaves him in a rush, and his smile widens into something radiant as he slips the ring from the box and gently slides it onto your finger. It fits perfectly, and you stare at it through your tears, your heart bursting with so much love you think you might actually explode.

“I love you,” Steve says, his voice thick with emotion as he pulls you into his arms. You cling to him, your face buried in his shoulder as you sob into his shirt. He holds you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped securely around your waist.

“I love you too,” you whisper against his neck, your voice muffled and shaky. “So much. I can’t believe this is real.”

“It’s real,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Always.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your tears still streaming but your smile brighter than the stars. “You’re too good to me,” you say, your voice trembling. “I don’t deserve you.”

Steve shakes his head, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “You deserve the world, Y/N,” he says simply. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to give it to you.”

You laugh again, a soft, breathless sound, and Steve leans in to kiss you, his lips gentle but full of promise. It’s the kind of kiss that makes the world fall away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the kind of love that feels eternal.

When you finally pull apart, you rest your forehead against his, your hands cupping his face as you whisper, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Steve’s smile is soft, his eyes shining with unspoken emotion. “Me neither,” he says quietly. “Me neither.”

The morning sun streams through the windows, bathing the room in a golden light that feels impossibly warm and perfect. You stir under the rumpled sheets, the fabric soft against your bare skin, and the memories of the night before come rushing back. It had started tender, Steve’s hands moving over you with a reverence that left you breathless. But the sweetness had given way to something deeper, more passionate—an expression of love so consuming that it had left you both utterly undone.

Beside you, Steve shifts, his arm tightening around your waist as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Good morning, my beautiful bride-to-be,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep and full of affection.

Your heart clenches immediately, and before you can stop yourself, tears well up in your eyes. You press your hands to your face, a choked laugh escaping as you try—and fail—to keep it together.

“Oh no,” Steve says with a chuckle, propping himself up on one elbow. “I didn’t even say anything that emotional this time.”

“You called me your bride-to-be,” you manage to say through your tears, your voice trembling with joy. “How am I supposed to handle that, Steve?”

He laughs softly, his hand brushing over your hair as he pulls you closer. “Sweetheart, if this is how you’re going to react every time I call you that, I’m in trouble. Because I plan on saying it a lot.”

You let out a watery laugh, burying your face in his chest. His skin is warm and familiar, and his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek feels like home. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I don’t mean to cry so much. I’m just… so happy.”

“I know,” he says gently, his fingers trailing soothingly down your back. “And I love you for it.”

After a while, your tears subside, and you lift your head to meet his gaze. His blue eyes are soft and full of love, and the way he’s looking at you makes your breath catch. “Good morning,” you say softly, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “My handsome fiancé.”

His grin widens at your words, and he leans in to kiss you, slow and sweet. “I like the sound of that,” he says against your lips. “Fiancé. And soon, husband.”

You feel your cheeks heat, your heart fluttering in your chest. “I can’t believe this is real,” you say quietly, tracing a finger along his jaw. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and it’ll all be a dream.”

“It’s real,” Steve assures you, his tone steady and full of certainty. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Nothing’s ever going to change that.”

The moment stretches between you, filled with a quiet, glowing warmth that feels too perfect to be real. But it is real, and as you lie there in his arms, you can’t imagine anything more perfect.

Eventually, Steve glances at the clock and sighs. “We should probably get up,” he says reluctantly. “The others are going to want to know.”

You groan, burying your face in the pillow. “Do we have to tell them today? Can’t we just stay here a little longer?”

Steve laughs, pulling the blanket off of you just enough to expose your shoulder. “As much as I’d love to keep you all to myself, they’re going to find out eventually. Might as well tell them now before Tony starts making bets.”

You sigh dramatically but can’t help smiling as you roll over to look at him. “Fine,” you say, your tone mock-annoyed. “But if I start crying again, it’s your fault.”

“I’ll take full responsibility,” he promises, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

An hour later, you’re dressed and ready, though your face is still a little puffy from all the happy tears. Steve holds your hand as you step into the elevator, his thumb brushing soothing circles over your skin. You feel nervous for some reason, though you know the team will be thrilled. It’s just that sharing something so personal, so precious, feels a little daunting.

“Hey,” Steve says softly, squeezing your hand. “It’s going to be fine. They love you.”

You nod, taking a deep breath as the elevator doors slide open to reveal the common room. The Avengers are scattered around the space, Tony sprawled on the couch with a cup of coffee, Natasha and Clint engaged in what looks like a very serious game of chess, and Bruce flipping through a book at the kitchen counter. Thor is munching on a Pop-Tart, his expression as cheerful as ever, while Sam lounges in a nearby chair, scrolling through his phone.

Tony is the first to notice you. “Well, well,” he says, setting his coffee down and smirking. “If it isn’t our golden couple. What’s with the glowing faces? Did Rogers finally tell you about his collection of antique baseball cards?”

“Tony,” Natasha says without looking up from the chessboard, her tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Let them talk.”

Steve clears his throat, his hand still firmly holding yours. “Actually,” he begins, glancing at you with a small, encouraging smile. “We have some news.”

At that, everyone looks up, their interest piqued. Clint leans back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “This should be good.”

You feel your cheeks heat under their collective gaze, but Steve’s presence beside you keeps you grounded. “We’re engaged,” you blurt out, unable to keep the words in any longer. “Steve proposed last night.”

The room erupts. Natasha and Bruce smile warmly, their congratulations genuine and heartfelt. Thor lets out a booming laugh and claps Steve on the back so hard he nearly stumbles. Sam grins, shaking his head as he mutters, “About time.” Clint whistles, looking impressed, while Tony raises his coffee mug in a mock toast.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Tony says, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. “Congrats, lovebirds. I guess this means I need to start planning the bachelor party.”

Steve groans, and you laugh despite yourself, leaning into his side as the team continues to shower you with affection and teasing remarks. It’s chaotic and overwhelming, but it’s also full of love, and as you look around the room, you realize just how lucky you are to have this family.

Later, when things have settled down, Steve pulls you aside, his hand resting lightly on your waist. “See?” he says softly, his blue eyes twinkling. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You smile up at him, your heart full to bursting. “No,” you admit. “It wasn’t bad at all.”

He leans down to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that makes your knees weak. “I love you, future Mrs. Rogers,” he murmurs, and once again, you find yourself wiping away happy tears.

The day has arrived. Months of planning, fittings, tastings, and a thousand little decisions have all led to this moment, and yet, standing in the bridal suite of the church, you feel like you might burst into tears before you even set foot down the aisle.

You’re wearing the dress you spent weeks obsessing over. It fits like a dream, a shimmering vision of white and lace that flows around you like a fairytale. Natasha, your bridesmaid—and perhaps the most patient person you’ve ever met—stands beside you, hands on your shoulders, trying to keep you from falling apart.

“Y/N,” she says firmly, her green eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “You’ve got to hold it together. You’re going to ruin your makeup if you start crying now.”

“I know, I know,” you say, fanning your face with trembling hands as you try to will away the tears. “It’s just… everything’s so perfect, and I’m so happy, and—oh my god, Nat, what if I trip?”

“You’re not going to trip,” she says, her voice calm but decisive. “You’ve practiced this. You’re wearing sensible heels. You’ve got Tony holding onto you like a lifeline. You’ll be fine.”

At the mention of Tony, you glance toward the door, where he’s pacing just outside. Your “man of honor” had insisted on walking you down the aisle, and though he’d tried to play it cool, you could see the emotion brimming behind his bravado. He’d barely been able to get through the rehearsal without tearing up, and now you’re both in danger of becoming sobbing messes before the ceremony even begins.

“I saw him wiping his eyes earlier,” you say with a sniffle, a hint of a laugh breaking through. “If he cries, I’m done for. I’ll start sobbing right there in the aisle.”

“Then don’t look at him,” Natasha advises, picking up a tissue and dabbing at the corners of your eyes. “Keep your eyes on Steve. That’s the goal, remember? Just make it to him without crying.”

At the mention of Steve, your chest tightens with a rush of love so overwhelming it’s almost too much to bear. You picture him standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for you, his blue eyes soft and full of adoration. The thought is enough to make you inhale sharply, and Natasha quickly steps in, snapping her fingers in front of your face.

“Focus,” she says sternly. “Breathe. You’ve got this.”

You nod, taking a deep, shaky breath as you try to calm yourself. “Okay. Okay, I can do this.”

Natasha gives you a small, approving smile. “That’s my girl.”

The door opens slightly, and Tony pokes his head in, his face immediately softening when he sees you. “Wow,” he says, his voice unusually quiet. “You look… wow.”

“Thanks, Tony,” you say, your voice wavering. “You’re going to make me cry.”

“Don’t you dare,” Natasha warns, pointing a finger at him. “I just got her under control.”

Tony steps into the room, straightening his tie as he tries to compose himself. “Okay, okay, no crying. But seriously, Y/N, you look… breathtaking. Steve’s going to lose it when he sees you.”

The lump in your throat grows, and you press a hand to your mouth, willing yourself not to cry. Tony steps closer, taking your hand in his and squeezing gently. “Hey,” he says softly. “You’re going to be amazing. And if you cry, who cares? It’s your wedding day. You get a free pass.”

You laugh through the tears threatening to spill, nodding as you squeeze his hand back. “Thanks, Tony.”

He grins, his usual bravado creeping back in. “Besides, if anyone’s going to cry, it’s me. I’m already a wreck. You’ll have to carry me down the aisle at this rate.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, but her smile is fond. “You two are a mess,” she says, shaking her head. “Come on, it’s time.”

Tony offers his arm, and you take it, your fingers trembling slightly as you hold on. The doors to the bridal suite swing open, and you catch a glimpse of the decorated aisle, lined with flowers and softly glowing candles. The music starts, and your heart pounds in your chest as you take your first step forward.

The church is full of familiar faces, but you barely register them. Your eyes are fixed on the man standing at the end of the aisle, his gaze locked onto yours. Steve looks devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo, his expression a mixture of awe and love that makes your knees weak.

As you and Tony make your way down the aisle, you hear him sniffle beside you. “Damn it,” he mutters, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. “I said I wasn’t going to cry.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, your own tears threatening to spill again. But Natasha’s words echo in your mind, and you keep your focus on Steve, drawing strength from the love shining in his eyes.

Finally, you reach the altar, and Tony steps back, giving your hand to Steve with a small, emotional smile. Steve’s hands are warm as they take yours, and his voice is steady as he whispers, “You’re beautiful.”

And that’s it. The tears spill over, and you laugh through them, shaking your head as Steve gently brushes them away with his thumbs. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I told myself I wasn’t going to cry.”

“I don’t mind,” he says softly, his voice full of affection. “I love that you feel so much. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

The ceremony begins, and though the tears continue to flow, they’re tears of joy, shared by more than just you and Tony. By the time you say “I do,” the entire room feels wrapped in the warmth of the love you and Steve share, a love that shines brighter than any tears.

we need more soft fics in this sea of smut! (I like smut fics too but like...sometimes I just want something fluffy)

[r0-boat]

Save me Laois the stress of you know what is affecting me

Laois' dick getting sucked

Monster eater x monster fucker/hj

Laois' x Gn!reader

Cw: oral, porn with plot

There wasn't enough space for everyone in the party. So you and Laois, being one of the best at fighting, can handle situations on your own pretty well. The two of you had volunteered to stay in a separate room.

Somehow, the two of you kept your relationship mostly a secret. Only because of the two oblivious people at the party did the two of you never see a reason to state the relationship, which had its upsides. You, being the more sly, took full advantage of it. He felt the shiver in his body as you gave him that look you always give him.

He practically flinched his eyes wide as he trained on the devilish look on your face.

Oh that look...

A look reserved for only him...

A look that made you look more akin to a succubus. Out of everyone in the party you were the most intimidating to him, for a different reason . Because on nights like these when the two of you are alone he would become your dinner.

He was never used to how your gentle fingers touch and caress and explore his body. His little reactions, whether it be a gasp or a whimper we're music to your ears.

"Laois', keep your voice down; otherwise, everyone else will hear you~"You let out a low-throated purr.

His entire being crumbling at your voice alone. You are always more socially aware able to pick him apart. Always knew exactly where to touch, where every sensitive spot on his body You even found ones he never knew about.

Laois' silences his whimpers sinking his teeth into his fingers as he watched her take him in your mouth.

That fucking mouth.

The one part of your body he has meticulously, how can he not?! The first time you sucked him off That was all he could think about for days for weeks watching you eat food, or helping to cook with Senshi, or speaking to Marcel about learning more healing magic.

Or even when you sing and strum your instrument. He could never look at it the same again. It took him days to get over it, You ruined him.

Who knew someone with such a beautiful voice could use those lips for something so sinful?

Those pretty pillow lips wrapped around his shaft.

When your tongue flicks around his head, he practically unravels; it took everything inside him not to make a noise thrusting his hips up into your mouth as he cums down your throat.

But you weren't done....

You've come to notice how pent-up Your cute blonde-haired freak is. The first night The two of you explored for the first time he seemed nervous...

You weren't very experienced, but living in a rambunctious tavern in a not-so-good part of the city has made you pick up a few things. Whether it be from the drunken confessions of adventures to having to hear or sometimes, unfortunately, see what goes on in the bedrooms upstairs. You lost many nights of sleep because the thin walls were from your bedroom to the others.

"W-wait! Please I'm S-sensit-!"

You hummed at his complaint, giving him a few gentle strokes before kissing him. As he was getting a little too loud.

His eyes grew soft again It didn't seem like he didn't want to stop either.

Your body practically moves in the sink as he presses your head down onto him. His cock filled your mouth, and every time, it was a struggle to fit from the length and the sheer girth. Running your tongue over each vein which, as you expected, Laois lets out a pleased hum.

You watch his eyes dart from your hand to his balls. You already know what he's asking. Something he could never utter out loud despite hearing far worse things from this man's mouth when it comes to eating monsters.

It was cute watching his eyes light up when you lick your fingers before gently massaging his balls. His balls were sensitive since they were big and swollen. His eyes rolled back; feeling those soft hands cupping and playing with him always drove him up the wall.

He tagged at your hair a little too hard as he felt himself getting close once again, his other hand trying to keep himself steady as he leaned his entire body back, bracing himself. His breath gets more heavy and shaky with each bob of your head.

He couldn't hold back this time making audible noise as he finishes He didn't mean to thrust his hips down your throat. The motion and the way your throat squeezed around and felt so good.

And the little muffled noise you made will have him lose hours of sleep for the next day or two.

Your heart practically jumped when Laois' ice darkened. You don't know what came over him. You could never fully know what he's thinking, no matter how much you think you got him. He ever so gently lay you down onto the dungeon floor. His voice husky, those beautiful golden innocent eyes darkening with lust his pupils blown wide "You, haven't came yet... Let me taste you."

[sickskz]

ahhh, your hcs are so spot on lol. do you have any skz hcs regarding sinus/respiratory stuff, like colds and flu?

Long awaited, but here it is... I guess I'm still not 100% pleased with this, buuuut I just gotta get it out there😂 gotta stop being a perfectionist all the time…

maybe I'll remember more to add later lol, hope you enjoy!🥹❤️

SKZ respiratory illness and sneezing hcs:

Bang Chan:

- Rhinitis got my man f’ed up. He’s talked about it so much and I definitely think he still struggles a lot with it- flare ups hitting him from time to time and leaving him all exhausted and sniffly.

- Def quite a loud sneezer most of the time. Rocks the room around him. Hyunjin has almost had a heart attack more than once.

- I like imagining that he has very poor control over his sneeze volume, and often has a real hard time stifling them😂

- Puts his whole body into it, whether that’s on purpose or involuntary. With the stronger sneezes, he might need to grab onto something (or someone) to not topple over.

- His habit of saying “bless me” whenever he sneezes gets me every time. OMF I love it.

- Very sniffly and gets dry eyes easily.

- When hes sick with congestion, he usually gets bad sinus headaches as well. Really likes having hot compresses over his eyes.

- Also a constant runny nose, it’s like a fountain. Gotta stack up on them tissues.

- When he’s got a cold and his voice gets rough, he resorts to imitating Felix a lot. Says it brings him some comfort amidst his misery.

Lee Know:

- His sinuses are so sensitive- he sneezes a LOT, from even the smallest of irritants.

- Anyways, we all know he sneezes like an actual kitten how DARE he.

- Has the cutest stifle faces too GAHH have you seen this man? Unbelievable.

- He’s also kind of a pro at stifling his sneezes. He’s actually so nonchalant about it, I don’t understand how he does it sometimes.

- How can a person manage to sneeze without making almost any noise whatsoever? That’s a talent right there..

- Stares vacantly into the distance as he waits for the sneeze to come.

- Always AT LEAST two sneezes in a row

- Cute sniffles afterwards aaaaAAA. (okay I'll calm down now)

- I really like imagining that bright lights tend to set him off! Which obviously can get pretty annoying, especially when he’s on stage.

- When he has a cold, he tends to be really gruff and sleepy most of the time. He’s also prone to suffer from a lot of headaches when sick.

- Though he also gets very shivery and unusually touch-seeking with the others. He is very much the kind of guy who just forces someone’s arm around him rather than asking for the cuddle. Top tier silent communication. He knows what he wants and he will get it.

Changbin:

- His nose scrunches before he sneezes like he tries to stop it (I’ve become so obsessed with this thx @1dwaekki😪)

- And he also has a habit of biting his lip after sneezing which is also just.. so endearing.

- I like imagining that whenever he gets dry, irritated eyes (from allergies or sickness) he blinks a lot of ‘hard’ blinks, as if trying to chase away the feeling. Similarly to how he scrunches his nose to try and suppress an upcoming sneeze😭

- His sneezes tend to come on so quick, he barely has the time to take cover before they force their way out of him.

- So he often sneezes into his hands, if he manages to have time for even that.

- Gets a little shy after he sneezes, bless him 🥹

- Voice gets really stuffy and rough when he’s congested, and it’s totally not very attractive at all…

Hyunjin:

- He’s a moderately loud sneezer, though I do imagine he lets them out more freely when he’s not on display (like during lives, events, etc). He can stifle them, but he prefers not to when he’s at home/somewhere private.

- Watery eyes, and an easily cracking voice when he’s sick. Usually speaks low, gets really mumbly.

- Congestion usually sticks to his upper airways most of the time, so his voice often sounds a little nasal when he’s stuffy.

- He has a tendency to get a really sore throat when he’s got a cold though, so swallowing becomes a struggle.

- I also feel like being congested could easily trigger his gag reflex, which in turn would make everything even more miserable.

- He taps his fingers a lot around his nose and face if he feels the familiar itch on an upcoming sneeze. + a lot of sniffles.

- After the sneeze, he sits back, lets out a sigh and continues on in a very “anyways soooo” type of way.

- Sometimes he might add a touch of dramatic flair by bowing theatrically or flinging his arms out in a balletic motion. Almost as if concluding a grand performance with one last, graceful flourish. That’s only for the amusement of those surrounding him, of course.

Han:

- It’s awfully typical of him to be betrayed by his own body. In the sense that he’s been feeling like he needs to sneeze all day, but when he’s finally loading up for it, it ✨goes away✨you bet your ass he’s gonna sulk about it afterwards, too.

- When he finally does sneeze, it’s rapid fire, sneezes coming out in a quick flurry that leaves him both satisfied and weary afterwards.

- Changbin once made a beat off a string of his sneezes and Felix started beatboxing to it.

- iPad kid coughing…. Do I need to say more?🤣

- Whenever he’s sick he tends to get very congested and sluggish, his shoulders hanging low and his eyes unfocused. He looks so sad and defeated💔

- Tends to cough up a lot of phlegm, and yes, it has lead into him throwing up before.

- Also has coughed himself into a tummy ache more than once. What can I say? It’s Han.

Felix:

- His voice gets so deep when he’s congested bro. Who is he? Smaug?

- Fevers make his blood pressure waver in general, so things like sneezing and coughing tend to make his vision black out for a bit.

- Which may explain why he often grabs onto something when he sneezes, whether it be a person, the wall, the counter..

- *rubs nose agressively*

- Sniffs a lot before the sneeze comes- like rhythmic, short sniffs in preparation for the blow.

- I feel like he’s bad at stifling sneezes well, and always makes a weird noise that makes people look his way, either with concern or amusement (or both).

- He gets so drained from sneezing, it's so exhausting. He would rather just hold them inside, but that doesn’t do him any good either.

Seungmin:

- Starts closing his eyes immediately when it feels a sneeze coming, his face twisting as if he’s in actual pain.

- I also love imagining he kind of shakes his head as he feels a sneeze coming on, always getting that shiver running up his spine beforehand. (like he does in that gif omg so cute)

- But he’s so ✨demure✨ with it, stifling it into his elbow or fist like a little fairytale prince.

- I just love imagining he has the small “tsch” sounding sneezes❤️ unproblematic, cute and simple🙂‍↕️

- Pretends it never happened afterwards, going back to whatever he was doing without paying it any mind.

- When he’s sick, he finds sneezing to be absolutely miserable for his head. It just rattles his brain around too much, leading to developing or amplifying a headache that’s already there.

- Just let him lie in a dark room, away from the light and sound and motion of the world. He needs to go full vampire mode until he feels better. He isn't opposed to some occasional company, though....

Jeongin(I.N):

- Oh my GOD he has the cutest close-mouthed sneezes, eyebrows drawn back and eyes shut tight.

- He is actually like a kitten when he sneezes as well (raised by Lee Know as some would say), what the hell is up with these guys.

- His entire body tenses along with the force of the sneeze, his head always pitching forward.

- Which ^ tends to his neck getting very stiff and sore whenever he’s sick, because he tenses his muscles so much. Really grateful to Felix who always steps up to give him massages.

- He has very much picked up on Chans “bless me” habit and doesn’t even realise he says it too at this point. It’s adorable.

- Often feels a little embarrassed whenever he sneezes, ducking his head away from peering gazes as his ears turn red with mortification.

- It doesn’t help that he’s so cute when he sneezes, because all the other members love pointing it out.

- He doesn’t usually even attempt to cover his sneezes in any way though, but that seems to be a fairly common thing amongst many of them🤣

Ps: yes, I had to pull out two gifs for him. LOOK AT HIM DAMMIT😭🥹

[i-dared-myself]

Oblivious Messes

Requested by anonymous: Hii this is my first  request so please bear with me Lmao um I was wondering if you could do reader x stray kids where like reader is the youngest one and is always getting in trouble a lot on stage and always messes with like the mics so the others get embarrassed I'm sorry it its not that good😂

You were perhaps a bit oblivious. Just a bit.

When you go out on stage, you always get distracted by all the cheering and the roaring of the crowd. You wave excitedly and bounce around, and the other members look to you affectionately. 

They love you even though you can make messes sometimes. Occasionally it’s a literal mess where you smear paint everywhere (long story). They’re fine dealing with whatever it is you throw their way, since you’re you.

So you trip over a cord, and you glare at it. How did that get there? You continue to glower furiously at it as you walk backwards, bumping into Jeongin.

He had been doing a dance and had been on one leg at the moment that you crashed into him, and you both fall. It’s a tangle of limbs and Changbin lifts you, shaking his head in fond exasperation.

“Oops,” you sheepishly say. “Sorry.”

Jeongin rubs the ache in his hip away. “It’s okay. Be careful, alright?”

You nod, legs wiggling as Changbin sets you down. You race to Hyunjin, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

It’s just as he bends to wave to fans, and you accidentally slap his ass. Your eyes widen and you attempt to run away before he can catch you.

“Watch it!” Hyunjin snaps, whirling around to shoot you a dirty look. 

“Sorry,” you nervously say, darting off to hide behind Changbin. Changbin is too soft to piss off.

“You should be more careful,” Changbin tells you, but his lips are curved upwards in amusement. “Actually the mics needed some extra work today. Could you go get them for us?”

You bob your head, always eager to help. “Sure!” You dash away, faintly hearing Changbin’s laughter and muttering about how cute you are.

“Hi!” you brightly say to a staff member. “Can I get the mics?”

They smile softly before reaching off to the side. “Of course. But be careful, they’re sensitive. We’re testing a new brand.”

“Right!” You grab them and as soon as the staff member turns away, you accidentally drop them. You scramble to pick them up before anyone notices, returning back to stage.

The rest of the members take their assigned microphones, either holding them, or attaching the headpieces appropriately. You watch in horror, unsure if you had damaged them.

Chan walks to the centre of the stage, grinning widely. He gives the introduction, and the microphone turns his words into an ear-splitting noise.

Everyone covers their ears and winces. Chan tries again, but the same thing happens.

A masked staff member runs onto the stage, distributing new microphones. You keep murmuring out apologies to everyone, ashamed.

“Sorry about that,” Chan says, smile strained as he addresses the audience. “There was just a technical difficulty that had now been dealt with.”

Minho walks past you, shaking his head in frustration. His cheeks are a dusty pink, no doubt from the embarrassment you caused. The media would be talking about how unprofessional this concert was, casting the group in a negative light.

This is all your fault. You had been given a warning about the microphones, and had still screwed everything up.

You fidget with your microphone, hoping that no one remembers it was you. You wish with every fibre of your being that know one knows that it was you to hand out the mics.

Chan lowers his microphone, expression furious. “Who the fuck was in charge of this?”

You duck your head shamefully. “I’m sorry… It was an accident.”

Chan’s expression softens immediately at your confession. “Hey, it was an accident. I’m not mad.”

You sniffle, dabbing at your eyes with your sleeve to prevent smudging your makeup. “Really? Because you sounded pretty mad.”

“Look at me,” Chan softly says, bringing your gaze to his face. “I’m not mad. It’s not your fault that the mics got messed up, since it’s not your job to set them up.”

“Your job is to look good,” Changbin jokes, poking your arm teasingly. 

“But not as good as me,” Hyunjin adds.

You’re still unsure. Apparently it shows on your face, because Minho flicks your nose.

“Get over it,” he harshly says in that Minho-style thay you’ve grown used to.

“It’s alright,” Seungmin assures you, squeezing your shoulder as he wanders closer. “We know that these things just happen.”

“But-“ You bite your bottom lip, fighting the urge to cry. “But I messed up!”

“It was an accident,” Felix kindly tells you. He flicks your arm playfully. “Just don’t do it again, yeah?”

“But it’s okay if it happens again,” Jisung chimes in. “You’re young. You’re bound to make mistakes.”

“I’m not that young!” you protest, puffing your chest out. 

“Sure you aren’t.” Jeongin giggles. “It must be tough being so young, huh?”

Everyone stares at him. Jeongin goes on with his life, unaware of the irony of his words.

Sorry for this being short, it’s just been so busy lately 😭

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic @imeverycliche @iwuberic @lezleeferguson-120 @strawberryscentedd @mbioooo0000

[falling-star-cygnus]

more polychampions!!! because i have brainrotted so incredibly hard on them ↑ again, stems from the light sensitivity hc in my newly created series: Turn Down the Lights [I'll Guide You Through]

Summary: Prune Juice likes to hide under his hat sometimes, for reasons he's not really sure of. It's not like anybody ever looked at him anyway

Well- not until Kouign Amann and Capsaicin invaded his life, at least. Literally! Why are these two at Parfaedia anyway?

♩ mm mmm ♫ m ♪ ♪ m mm ♩ mmm ♬

Humming floats through the room, hauntingly filling the dim space in pretty notes of honey. It's a quiet, subconscious thing- nearly overshadowed by the ambient noises of a bubbling cauldron and bustling footsteps.

Capsaicin hears it all the same, and doesn't think he ever wants to hear it again from another source.

♩ mm mmm ♬ mm ♩ m ♪

Kouign Amann peeks out from behind him, her pretty heart-adorned eyes locked onto the distracted cookie, and her sword scrapes intrusively against the stone floor.

Why did you bring that, he thinks at her, unwilling to speak just yet and disrupt those honeyed notes- his expression flat.

From her quietly, bashful [infectious] giggles- her helpless 'what can ya do' look- he knows she got the message. The frilly paladin props the giant thing against the doorway.

But even that doesn't get Prune Juice Cookie's attention.

m ♪ mm ♬ mmm m ♪ mm ♩

He keeps humming, unaware of his former rivals- well, arrival.

An elbow bumps his ribs, a quiet call, and he meets Kouign Amann's raised eyebrow- her exasperated smile.

How long until you think he notices?

Capsaicin glances over, just in time to see the bitter cookie pawing for something on the top of a shelf next to his set-up. He's up on his tippy toes- only visible as his robes hitch up with him.

It's so stupidly endearing that the Spice Overlord is already moving forward to grab it for him.

mmm ♬ ♪ m

But, of course, Prune Juice Cookie is also stupidly impressive.

And resourceful.

He bangs his gloved hand against the shelf, palm opening just in time to catch a near-empty vile of poison green liquid. Which- well, might actually be poison for all Capsaicin knows.

Kouign [and himself] makes a quietly impressed noise.

The bitter cookie pours what's left of that bottle into his bubbling cauldron, tutting under his breath at the mere drops leftover.

"That's no good," he mutters to himself, "I'll have to run out and get more... that wasn't nearly enough.."

And then he finally turns around- bottle held sideways up to one captivating cyan eye as he shakes it up and down. Though he freezes at what- or rather who- he sees beyond it.

"Oh-"

Prune Juice Cookie lets out a startled little laugh, over just as quickly as it started.

It's still one of the prettiest things Capsaicin has ever heard.

Not quite as infectious as Kouign Amann's, which had it's own beauty, but rather something you'd want to bottle and listen to over and over again. Hold it in a shell and next to your ear, like people do with the soda ocean.

The bitter cookie turns around to grab his bag- something that looked way lighter now then it did during the Triple Cone Cup- and shakes his head.

"These all-nighters must really be getting to me..." Prune Juice turns around again, his pretty eyes closed and smug smile strained, "..if I'm hallucinating those two again-"

He walks straight into Capsaicin's chest.

What'd he mean by 'again'...? The Spice Overlord places two clawed hands on Prune's waist to keep the bitter cookie steady. And tries not to bluescreen when his thumbs nearly touch.

He was used to being bigger than his peers, a larger than life figure, but this..

Don't squeeze, don't squeeze, don'tsqueezedon'tsqueezedon't-

Two gloved hands press against his chest- not quite demanding freedom, but- feeling around?

"Wh- wha- huh!?" Prune Juice practically shrieks, "Capsaicin Cookie... Kouign Amann-? You're actually here!?"

Now- he tried so hard, but his THUMBS were TOUCHING- Kouign Amann takes the lead [after practically staring a hole into Capsaicin's head..] and brushes some drippy purple hair out of their former rival's face.

"Still think we're hallucinations?"

• + - + - + •

Kouign Amann Cookie didn't think she'd ever get tired of seeing those striking cyan eyes.

Or those slit white pupils so elegantly paired with his lashes.

The room the three had found themself in was dark, lit only by a few blue torches encased in glass. Dim, but not cold and dreary like one might expect when they heard 'potion-maker.'

It was actually quite nice.

Though very messy as well.

Capsaicin Cookie still had his large, clawed hands oh-so-gently cinched around their shared rival's waist- carefully keeping the bitter cookie from tumbling to the ground. Kouign Amann couldn't decide which position she envied more.

Her Scovilian rival had completely zoned out, though, which meant affirmations fell to her armored shoulders.

It was, admittedly, a shame she couldn't feel Prune Juice's drippy hair through her gloves. But they were padded for a reason, so... mrrgm.

Grumbling wasn't very ladylike, or paladin like.

You'll keep her secret though, right?

"I can't believe it..." Prune Juice Cookie wheezes out, his gloved hand latched onto Kouign's wrist, "You're actually here? At Parfaedia-? I'm not imagining things again?"

Again.

"...if I'm hallucinating those two again-"

"...how much sleep have you been getting?" Kouign Amann finds herself asking, worry clenching her sternum tight.

This unwalled version of the bitter cookie was nice, but... some prices came a little too high. She much preferred his sarcasm to this.. hazy uncertainty.

"Forget that for now, how are you here?" there he was.

Prune Juice Cookie takes his remaining hand abruptly off Capsaicin's chest [who was still staring at where his hands were located] and whirs into a blur of motion.

"Hold that thought-" he says, twisting free of Capsaicin to shove papers and books alike to the side of his desk.

...Kouign hadn't even realized there was a desk there.

A large map gets thrust down- analyzed fiercely under pretty cyans- before the potion maker turns on his former rivals. The Spice Overlord seemed to be coming back to himself- now that his hands were free, at least.

Prune's open gaze is incredulous.

"...what are you doing," the paladin deadpans.

"Checking to make sure the distance between our schools hasn't magically shortened."

...well then.

"Wouldn't you.. need to buy a new map for that?"

She's ignored.

"Don't tell me you came all this way just to visit?"

"Would that really be so bad?" their Scovilian rival asks, head canting adorably to the side.

"It's several days of travel!"

"We missed you!" Kouign Amann fires back.

It wasn't the full truth, but it wasn't an outright lie either. They had missed the bitter cookie and it was a frequent subject in their letters, and clear in Prune Juice's that he felt the same way- between the lines of never ending sarcasm.

Buut they had come to Parfaedia for.. other reasons too.

"...there's something you're not telling me-"

Damn him and his paranoid, rooted in self-loathing perceptiveness.

"...it was supposed to be a surprise," the paladin sighs in defeat, knowing there's no point in hiding it now, "But somebody got a little too excited.."

Another, more blatant, lie... but Kouign side-eyes Capsaicin anyway.

"Me!?" he [predictably] exclaims, whirling on her, "I didn't hear any complaints when we were asking around for him!"

"You're the one who suggested we come right to him, instead of waiting until the announcement at dinner!"

"You and I both know there was no guarantee Prune Juice Cookie was going to show up to dinner."

...fair enough point, Kouign Amann concedes in her mind. Never aloud, obviously. Defeat wasn't a word in her vocabulary.

She goes to respond, her hand latching onto the handle of her sword, when a familiar leather glove presses abruptly into the middle of her back.

"Hey, hey, hey! Fight outside the potion room if you must!?"

And then she's being firmly jostled out, right next to a protesting Capsaicin, until they're both in the hallway and stunned into obedience.

"Wait right here, I'll be out in just a second." the door slams shut in their faces.

Opens again.

"Don't go anywhere."

Shuts.

Kouign Amann glances at the Spice Overlord.

"So..."

"His waist... was so small."

"RIGHT!?"

• + - + - + •

What...

...are they doing here!?

Prune Juice Cookie bustles about his- well, not his- potion room. He was really the only one that used it though so.. it might as well be his in the long run. Semantics! Unimportant semantics!

It was so so so messy.

How could he let anyone see him like this? Argh, they probably thought he was a slob now- that his work was just as messy and sloppy as-

Deep breaths.

Catastrophizing wouldn't get him anywhere right now. Or anywhere in general. Prune just had to- to take deep breaths.

There was nothing he could do about them seeing his safe space usual haunt.

Well- there was. If he was willing to blur some ethical lines...

...

..not on them.

His chest feels tight, at the mere thought. Memory was such a delicate thing.. if he messed up the potion, there was a chance that they could- well-

Wait..

Potion.

Prune Juice whips towards his bubbling cauldron, distressed for an entirely new reason as he rushes to smother the heat underneath it.

Witches, he was such a mess today.

The one day his friends? former rivals decide to visit him [for some reason] and it's the one day he can't keep it together.

No Prune Juice Cookie, no potions. No potions, no Prune Juice Cookie.

He repeats it like a mantra in his mind, finding vague comfort in the bitter truth.

Kouign Amann and Capsaicin Cookie were waiting diligently outside for him.. it'd be rude to keep them waiting. Well, it was rude to toss them out too but- there were delicate materials in here!

And since they were going out, he might as well grab a few much needed ingredients.

The sound of ink on paper is as comforting as a weighted blanket to his sleep deprived mind as he jots down a list- and quickly evaluates what he's thrown haphazardly into his bag.

It wasn’t… as well stocked as he’d prefer…

But it’d have to do. Those two were definitely more than capable of holding their own, should a problem come up, anyway.

Deep breaths.

Despite his- rather out of character- franticness, a new feeling was blooming. Right under that tight bundle of nerves under his lungs. Something he was scarcely familiar with.

Something like excitement.

Deep breaths.

Everything was going to be okay.

• + - + - + •

Nothing was okay!

"Did you see which way he went?" Kouign Amann asks, voice frantic as she holds her skirts aloft.

Capsaicin looks around, desperate for a glimpse of drippy indigo, and wants to tear his horns off. Nothing, absolutely nothing, in the sea of panicked pointy purple hats.

GAH, what good was his height if he couldn't find one cookie!?

"No," he spits, turning a full circle, "You?"

"Obviously not!"

A growl rumbles low in chest, quickly smothered by his gritted teeth.

"And we're never going to, if we bite each other's heads off!"

How did this even happen?

Everything had been so nice... the two had been getting a tour from Prune Juice- the dorms, the classes, the markets- and- then... those pretty cyan eyes had opened teasingly.

Capsaicin had been the butt of a joke between his friends, some light-hearted jab about how handy it was that crowds seemed to part around him, and Prune had opened his eyes.

At the same time a camera flash went off.

From there it had been... just a series of bad luck. All happening in the blink of an eye.

The potion maker flinched back, just barely a step, to rub at his hidden again cyans- stepping right onto a rolling bottle. He was too far for either of his former rivals to keep him on his feet so.. he... fell.

Something had shattered in his bag.

Before anyone knew it, some- creature of purple goo was surging forward into the square.

It had only taken a few moments, not even a full minute, to get the thing back under control- the beauty of its maker being right there- but.. yeesh.

Capsaicin hadn't even been the subject of the resulting glowers, but he felt like the one pinned to a corkboard- even as his bitter friend tried to soothe the crowd with a self-promotion.

But then the muttering started.

"Of course it was Prune Juice Cookie.." "Ugh." "Only he would carry around something so dangerous." "Can't he just use magic like a normal Parfaedien?" "He needs to be more careful!" "Jeez..."

Each comment made Capsaicin burn with fury, the remnants of his shackles heavy on his arms and urging him to make this crowd choke on their words.

Kouign Amann Cookie was pissed off too, evident by the way she adjusted her grip on her sword- as if preparing to make an example with it.

And Prune Juice had taken that moment to disappear, hat tugged down over his eyes, leaving them all sputtering on sudden smog.

Jeez, why had he even brought his liquid smokescreen with him!?

..use magic... normal Parfaedian? "-you think I wanted to be baked frail?"

Capsaicin grits his sharp teeth.

"They're all wrong about him."

"Of course they are," the paladin agrees, breaking into his thoughts as she leans her back against his, "And we're going to tell him that."

Her heart-adorned eyes meet his, steadfast and sure.

"But we have to find him first."

It knocks some sense back into his noggin, finding himself smiling after a few moments of getting lost.

"Right," Capsaicin nods, his chest a little looser as he looks around the panicked crowd.

And he gets an idea.

Kouign Amann makes a startled noise as the Spice Overlord hefts her onto his shoulder- though 'hefts' might be too strong a word... she wasn't exactly heavy. Even with all her armor.

And- giant sword.

How did she carry that thing around all the time-?

Ack- focus!

"What are you-" Kouign starts to protest, before taking in the improved view, "Ohh, good idea!"

His chest warms with the praise, and maybe he stands just a bit taller. No one but him had to know.

"Now, if I was a bitter cookie, where would I hide...?"

It- stupidly- hits them both at the same time.

"The potion room!"

Because obviously.

• + - + - + •

Kouign and Capsaicin find their friend in.. an honestly heart-wrenching state.

He's right where they thought he'd be, and tucked up in a corner with his face hidden by the brim of his droopy hat- knees wrought close like a shield.

The room even dimmer.

Prune Juice Cookie doesn't react as they step closer, careful to close the door quietly, until they're right at his feet. He tucks them closer.

The paladin tries to ignore how it makes her heart clench.

"Prune Juice.." Capsaicin breathes out, his voice mournfully quiet.

"...Prune Juice Cookie isn't here right now."

Despite it all, his warbling voice makes her giggle.

Sarcasm really was a good look on the potion maker. Kouign Amann sits beside the bitter cookie, just close enough that their elbows brush, and smooths her frilly skirt out.

"Is that so," she indulges, "Can you tell me where he went?"

No response.

Capsaicin sits next to her.

"Hm..." alright then, "Can you tell me when he'll be back? His friends travelled practically the whole world to see him."

...

"It'd make us reeeally happy to know he's okay."

Prune Juice doesn't look up, doesn't leave the safety of his hat, but he does speak up again- his voice cracking:

"He's fine, leave a message and he'll get back to you later."

And wasn't that just an obvious lie.

The poor potion maker would probably never talk about it if left to his own devices, too used to licking his wounds alone. He wasn't alone anymore, though, not if they had anything to say about it.

Never if they had anything to say about it.

So Kouign does what she hasn't in a long time.

She babbles.

"You know, I've always been jealous of his hat." kind of, anyway, "It seems to have so many uses."

It wasn't really Kouign Amann's style, but she could appreciate practicality when it was presented to her.

"I don't have anything to hide under, so my hair always gets frizzy when it rains. Though... I guess I could always hitch up one my skirts..?"

Capsaicin makes a vaguely alarmed noise next to her and Prune chokes. Understandably- it would be terribly unladylike to throw one of her overskirts over her head, even if nothing would be exposed. [Kouign did wear leggings under everything.]

"Or I could hide under Capsaicin's cape?" there was definitely enough room under their for all three of them, "It'd be warmer.."

It feels like hours pass like this, with Kouign saying whatever comes to mind and the occasional chip in from her companions. In reality, it's probably only half one.

Those beautiful cyan eyes finally meet her own bright pinks, hesitant and full of so much bitter self hatred that something fragile cracks in her chest.

"Oh.." the paladin utters, "..there you are."

ao3 fic: here ↑ please leave a comment if you enjoyed, your hopefully dear author thrives on feedback <3 <3 <3

[bealittlesblog]

🌟《Undiagnosed doesnt mean invisible》🌟

- my autistic truth and to women who feel the same way -

I've seen many autistic girls, everywhere who get misdiagnosed, invalidated or put on endless waitlists to be evaluated. We mask, stay silent and suffer academically or socially and somehow it's always chalked up to being "shy" "sensitive" or just "bad at math." But no one really sees us. Until we start seeing ourselves.

- I was selectively mute from ages 5-12 and a half

- I struggled in school not because I didnt care but because no one adapted to how my brain works, NO teacher could teach me right.

- I wasnt supported until I started doing the work myself. As an adult, alone.

- I've been on a evaluation waitlist for over two weeks, it shouldn't take self advocacy to be believed. -

《What autism looks like for me》💬

- autism isnt just a label, it's a lived experience. -

- I hyperfixate and will stay in one spot until something is done or feels completed.

- I miss social cues or feel confused by peoples reactions.

- I get overstimulated easily--lights, noise, emotions, too many things happening at once.

- I struggle with numbers, abstract concepts or fast paced instructions.

- I took an online screener and scored a 72% (moderate) which did validate my feelings.

Also I inherited this from my father, me and my younger brothers have it but they were easier to diagnose and recieved special education throughout their whole childhood, which is why I always felt like I never had it until I became an adult.

《Gentle Reminder》🤍

There are different variants of autism, no such thing as universal symptoms and yea sometimes I dislike how certain traits make life harder. But heres the truth - I still matter. I'm still worthy. I'm still human.

- it's okay to get frustrated with your own neurodivergence.

- it's okay to not like how your brain responds sometimes.

- it's okay to want support, diagnosis, answers, clarity.

- you are not broken, less than or imaginary.

Your experience is valid, even when its unsupported! You are allowed to name your truth even without a diagnosis. You deserve understanding, even if the system delays it.

Always remember that!~♡

♡

♡

♡

♡

♡

♡ Mooties ♡ - @l1lprincessti @stardewkiddo @sodaslittleplace @sweetsugarpuff @furyyroads @tearyeyedsealpup @punzie-nini @livvylittle @sleepybby00 @rosiestunicorn @pyjamadbananas @mx-owls-crew @cloudy-sky21 @kittylovez @angelcakez @sweet-sunny-bunny-13 @lil-crybunny @wisdmqueen @pinknerdyprincess1214 @flutterrose @littollamby @locketkitty !!! And everyone else !!

[forsaken-headcanons]

Bunch of random headcanons that stuck in my head

Chance

- A big fan of perfumes, probably has a huge collection of them yet barely uses any

- Sensitive to light?? Could explain the way how often he has sunglasses on

- Doesn't swear much on everyday basic, but swears a lot in slightest trouble or stress

- 5'8-5'9 (1.73-1.75) feet tall, but swears on life he's 6 feet

Dusekkar

- Heavily into poetry and literature

- Uses old-fashioned words that literally no one understands

- Forgets about the fact that they have antlers and hits them against door frames on accident sometimes

- Swears in such poetic old-fashioned ways that it sounds even worse that it possibly could, only when someone does something beyond dumb or risky

- Tallest survivor, about 6'6 (1.98) or 6'8 (2.03) when they are leviating

Noob

- Hates loud noises with all of their soul

- Never swears, no matter what happens they just wont

- Either is trusting everyone or trusts no one

- 5'6-5'7 (1.67-1.70), doesn't care about height much

Sorry for any wrong pronouns or stuff like that if there are any, everyone who i see uses different ones-

Dusekkar forgetting he has antlers is so real I'm afraid.

[ittybittyvamp]

꒰₊‧˚┊🦇 Little Vampire Cookie (me) headcanon's! :3 These headcanon's are me projecting as Vampire Cookie (me). I'm also including Sparkling Cookie! My cg!

꒰₊‧˚┊🦇 When regressing, he becomes very clingy and loves to cuddle. His favorite thing in the world is being cradled in Sparkling’s arms. Sparkling will softly rock him back and forth and gently stroke his hair until he falls asleep. Vampire clings onto him like a baby bat. :3

꒰₊‧˚┊🦇 He's always carrying a stuffie in his arms. Whether he's at home,outside, or asleep, there's always a plushie friend cradled in his arms. It's a source of comfort he never parts with. Every month, Sparkling takes him to the store and lets him pick out a new plushie friend for his collection. :)

꒰₊‧˚┊🦇 He loves to chew on things. :3 his sleeves,teething toys,chewelry, or just anything he can get between his fangs! However, his sharp teeth often wear down destroy his chewies, so he constantly needs replacements. :(

꒰₊‧˚┊🦇 Loves to wear oversized clothes! They make him feel safe and comfortable like a hug. Tight fitting clothing is no. It overwhelms his sensory issues and makes him uncomfortable. He only feels safe in oversized and loose clothing.

꒰₊‧˚┊🦇 He doesn't like to be left alone when regressed. :( He needs to have Sparkling or Alchemist by his side. He has severe abandonment issues and even being left alone for a few minutes and cause him to spiral and cry :(

꒰₊‧˚┊🦇 He loves to take naps and snuggle underneath a soft and warm blanket cocoon. He'll curl up into a little ball with a stuffie tucked safely in his arms. When Sparkling joins him, he'll hum, calming melodies, and gently rub his back until he drifts off to sleep.

꒰₊‧˚┊🦇 He gets nervous using his paci around other people who aren't Sparkling or Alchemist. He fears people are going to look at him weird and judge him :( But Sparkling helps him get more comfortable using it around others, and now he always has his paci in! :D

꒰₊‧˚┊🦇 He loves to drink from his pink sippy! Especially strawberry milk that's his favorite! And he also loves to eat snacks! His favorites are those little star puffs and purple grapes! He also really loves candies, especially if it's gummy candy he enjoys chewing on them :3

꒰₊‧˚┊🦇 He's very playful! He loves to stack blocks and make towers. He loves playing pretend with his stuffies. And he really enjoys playing with his sensory toys, especially when he's nervous! He enjoys coloring and doodling little pastel bats in his sketchbooks! Sparkling always gets him new sketchbooks and color pencils, so he never runs out!

꒰₊‧˚┊🦇 He's very talkative when he's regressed between 4-6! He loves to ramble about bats and his new stuffie and just random things! Sparkling always listens to him even if he doesn't make sense sometimes. When he's regressed 2-3, he mostly just babbles or just says a few words at a time.

꒰₊‧˚┊🦇 He's a trauma regressor :( and he's very sensitive when regressed. He needs people to talk to him in soft, quiet voices and needs patience. Never yell at him when he's regressed it scares him a lot, and he will cry :(

꒰₊‧˚┊🦇 He adores having his hair stroked or soft circles rubbed on his back. He'll instantly lean into the touch and let out soft purrs like a sleepy kitten and fall asleep in seconds. ♡

꒰₊‧˚┊🦇 When overwhelmed, he usually pain stims. Like scratching himself,picking at his skin, or even hitting himself and pulling out hair. Sparkling buys him little pain stim toys to help him. And he uses them all the time!

꒰₊‧˚┊🦇 His hearing is incredibly sensitive. Loud or sudden noises overwhelm him and cause panic. He'll often wear his headphones and listen to music while rocking back and forth. It helps soothe his nervous system.

꒰₊‧˚┊🦇 He loves to watch cartoons! His go-to comforts are bluey and my little pony! He'll watch them on repeat while snuggled up in a fuzzy blanket and cradling a stuffie. :)

꒰₊‧˚┊🦇 Bright lights and harsh environments make him overstimulated and anxious. He much prefers cozy, dimly lit rooms and warm lighting. Sometimes, he'll build himself a soft little blanket fort and call it his bat cave. It's his safest place. :)

꒰₊‧˚┊🦇 He stims a lot! Especially when exited or anxious. He's always fidgeting and moving around. It's very difficult for him to sit still. He also has little nervous tics like head twitches/shivers, and he yells things and snaps his fingers involuntary. [These are my own tics that i actually have!]

꒰₊‧˚┊🦇 Remember these headcanon's are me projecting as Vampire Cookie (me) :) and I'm making these for myself and my own comfort!

I'll maybe add more to this later on! (Maybe)

[dysfunctional-doodle]

I'm basing this to what I've seen of! (And my personal renditions!!)

Now, onto Mikey Headcanons!

MICHEALANGELO HEADCANONS!

1987's Mikey

He has one of those long sausage pillows that he often uses to cuddle up like it's one of his brothers.

That pillow was gifted by Donatello!

Usually, he's pretty still when he sleeps and barely moves, until of course he has a dream / nightmare.

He sleeps pretty early / late, but that just depends on how the day went for him.

He cannot sleep without some sort of light on. He doesn't know why, he just needs it.

2003's Mikey

More often than not, he sleeps with an arm above his head because the lights at the sewer are really blinding.

He absolutely gets flashed when he doesn't do this and this leads to him scrambling off his bed when he gets woken up by one of his brothers.

Always the last one to fall asleep, his system would not let up the first few nights at the cave unless he knew his brothers were safe.

Night terrors are frequent, and usually he goes to Leo about them. But, when he doesn't want to bother any of his brothers, he stays up.

Future (Where he lost his part of his arm)

He often has his nub near him because he would wake up due to the phantom pain.

He holds the nub with his other hand when the pain starts to hurt even more than usual.

2007's Mikey!

He asked Donnie for a pair of headphones that he could use when he needs background noise to sleep.

Usually, he has a hand draped over dramatically on his chest like a frail victorian child.

He opts to sleeping on his back even more because of his shell.

He's much more sensitive to loud noise when it stems from his own family, so hence the headphones.

Always the first to fall asleep, he's always exhausted when it comes to his job and he's gotten used to the habit of being lulled to sleep.

2012's Mikey

Sprawled out like a spider when he sleeps and that depends on whether he's sleeping on his back or front. Usually he's on his back most of the time.

His hands flail around and can and most definitely will hit you when you're next to him.

Somehow, his body has a mind of its own and he ends up on positions he never thought was possible.

He falls asleep on his back and ends up on his front all. the. TIME

He randomly gets zapped with his electrical powers when the friction gets too much. Even though it doesn't hurt, he wakes up almost immediately.

He's mostly in the middle when it comes to falling asleep.

2014-2016's Mikey! (BAYVERSE)

You'd think he'd have at least a normal sleeping position because of large his shell is. You'd be so darn wrong. He's over here acting all victorian princess when he sleeps, full on clutching the pearls he doesn't HAVE.

He's a pretty light sleeper and more often than not cannot for the life of him fall asleep fast enough than he is to stay awake.

He's so still you can mistake him for a doll.

The hashi night terrors are frequent and he often dreams about them.

Sleep doesn't come easy for the dude and he really liked being sung to as a kid.

2018's Mikey

He sleeps on his front with his arms supporting his head. It helps when his shell becomes unbearably heavy.

Sometimes he moves his arms to reposition the position he's in right now.

He doesn't usually have seizures but his pain gives him enough to jolt him awake and cause him problems. He waits it out.

Sleep doesn't come easy anymore because he's terrified his powers will amp up when he sleeps for long periods of time causing his body to decay.

He liked to doodle and draw before he sleeps just so he can keep his mind occupied.

He absolutely glows when he sleeps, or mostly his arms do.

He talks in his sleep about anything honestly.

He has had frequent night terrors about the krang and he's still shaken up about that.

2023's Mikey

He sleeps with his a stuff toy boar, who he named to be June.

He sleeps on his side, because it's much more comfortable.

He doesn't stay up that late because he has school in the morning.

When he does, he's usually having doubts about himself and his intellects, or he's finishing up school work.

He doesn't sleep in his own bed and prefers to sleep with one of his brothers or in the living room.

He has night terrors about the super fly incident.

He has weaker bones so his joints hurt more which leads them to sometimed spasm and lock, causing him to cramp.

Absolutely loves to be hummed to sleep, he likes listening to music while he sleeps because it helps him cslm down.

Usually, before he sleeps he has a skin care routine consisting of 12 steps.

After the series he's been much more hesitant around robots (they're absolutely cool in his opinion, but he doesn't like them as much when the robots tried to kill him.

He's dyslexic and he has had a harder tome spelling and reading words.

My gosh this is a lot, if you can't tell (you probably can) Mutant Mayhem Mikey's my favorite!

Now mostly all of them are my own take but hey, I had fun!!

Yes!!!!!!!

My thoughts, in order:

87 Mikey: yes, he loves hugging anything really at night. It makes him much more comfortable to have that pressure, the dude even spreads the love in his sleep! You can tell if he’s having a bad dream by how tight he grips the item in question. At the start of their mutation, he would hug tattered bundles of blankets instead, until Splinter first noticed and picked out a softer item from a donations box. He’s like one of those dogs who’s insanely gentle with their toys all the time lol

2003 Mikey:

I have always been a strong preacher in the fact he has ADHD, and often has a really impressive imagination because of this. He definitely, in my opinion, has maladaptive daydreaming disorder, hence why he has his own comics and he has long moments where he’s imagining himself as the Turtle Titan whilst he just stands staring at a wall. This is also not a good thing as his vivid imagination paired with his trauma makes really bad night terrors, though you would never know. Seriously. In my opinion, before season 4, Mikey doesn’t ever tell anyone. That speech he makes in season 4 about the family roles? He fights to remain in his own ‘role’ no matter what, but Leo gets a little sharper, a little wiser after his own struggle in season 4. They bond over midnight tea and quiet admissions in the dark about their pressure to conform to family roles. They have their own little private time where they break down these walls, just between them, because they both just get it.

2007: I love this idea of sensory issues. This makes his work as a party mascot even more painful for him because it’s so loud. The fake head helps muffle it, but it’s still overwhelming as heck. He takes comfort in cramming himself in small spaces like cupboards. I don’t know if any of y’all have seen A Christmas Story, but it’s like that scene where the mum opens the cupboard and the youngest son is just sat in there for no reason and hands her a pan before she doesn’t question it and shuts the door again lol. God I love that movie.

2012 Mikey: Yes. Just yes. He’s the kid that you never want to sleep next to on a camping trip because he will end up beating the shit out of you in the night with how much he moves. Also, he sleepwalks sometimes. Eyes open. Terrifying.

Bayverse: you genuinely think he’s dead with how still he sleeps vs what he’s like during the day. April literally did think something was wrong the first time she saw him slumped over the couch. Also, he’s one of those people that kinda just falls asleep anywhere sometimes in strange positions. He’s once fallen asleep standing up.

2018: I hc he does have seizures, which I’m writing a fic on soon, and he hates waking up suddenly because he can get triggered into one. You have to take it slow when you wake him.

TOTTMNT Mikey: if you’ve read Too Many Turtles you know I am FEASTING on the hc that Mikey struggles in classes. I hc him as autistic due to the concept art indicating so with the stickers on his nunchucks, and because he’s bad at understanding tone he has problems talking to other kids despite wanting to be social. Kids that pick on him aren’t seen that way to him, which makes him more of a target, and overall he struggles to follow conversation ‘naturally’, scattering across topics and saying things randomly as an impulse that he doesn’t understand doesn’t fit with the current mood. Poor guy is very friendly and wants to socialise but struggles to. I love the idea he goes to bed early unless he has a sudden fixation on something or an anxiety, in which he finds it super hard to turn off his phone and go to bed, always doing “one last google search” which takes him to 4am.

[catnip-plug]

You Got the Green Light (Ticci Toby x Reader) NSFW

Porn without plot, palming, slight MLM, reader is implied to be male, was actually an oc x canon but I changed it to reader, slight homophobic mentions? Established relationship [reader is childhood best friends w/ Toby] (inspired by green light by beyonce haha)

You cornered Toby against the bookshelf, walking calmly and languidly. A sly smile graced your face, and Toby felt his face heat up tremendously. It was like his brain short-circuited. What were you doing? His Adam's apple bobbed with each nervous gulp he took. 

“Really?” You said, your eyes swooping over Toby. 

God, Toby didn’t know where to look. His fingers twitched, and his wide gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips and back again. Even though he was taller, he felt so small. 

“Y-yeah,” breathed Toby, feeling his heartbeat quicken. His voice sounded so stupidly meek, he wanted to die. You raised an eyebrow in questioning. 

“You got the green light.”

———————

"Green," Toby hissed out through the sparks shocking up his spine. So you continued, palming Toby through his jeans. His boner was straining against the fabric; you could feel how hard it was under your hand.

Toby rocked his hips forward desperately, trying to get more friction, but you stayed put with a steady pressure, grinning slyly at the show.

"Green, green... green..." Toby pleaded frustratingly. He wanted more, so much more.

You palmed harder in response. Not enough to satisfy the other, though. He whined and bucked his hips, pushing himself against your hand.

"Hey, you're getting greedy." You clicked your tongue and returned to soft touches and light brushes.

"I'm telling you green," Toby complained. He actually looked upset, his eyebrows furrowed.

"What, are you pouting?" You snickered, eyes narrowed in amusement. The brunet didn't even get a chance to defend himself before you gripped his dick hard through his jeans. Toby cried out in surprise then immediately closed his mouth, embarrassment flushing his cheeks pink. Electric shocks coursed through his body, and when you continued, Toby couldnt help but give in to it.

"I'm not going to pull it out," you said. "It's not gay if I don't touch it." Toby could not give a fuck if it was gay or not. In fact, that was the least of his concerns right now. Why did it matter to you? He pushed up at the same time you pushed down, and he panted as he tried to choke down his moans. Apparently, his lack of response bothered you.

"Right, Toby?" You stared right at him, palming him faster. A shaky moan slipped out of Toby's throat and he threw his head back.

"No, no, it's not—not gay, it's not," he stammered. God, he just wanted you to do more, to kiss him, to reach your hands into his pants and jerk him off already. "Just—just keep g-going..."

You raised an eyebrow. "What's the word?" You were being an asshole and you knew it.

"Greeeen, green..." Toby groaned. He sounded so pathetic to his own ears. Maybe he should just say green forever and ever, so you could keep doing this until he passed out. That would be paradise.

At this point, Toby could no longer contain the noises that flew from his mouth, desperate, high-pitched moans that permeated the air. Tons of pre-cum leaked from his dick, and a dark stain had already formed on his jeans, easily noticeable along with the tent in his pants. The boxers he wore probably needed to be changed after this. He panted like a dog, the friction from the rough fabric rubbing deliciously against his shaft. Sometimes, it would rub against his sensitive tip, and he would twitch with a jolt and let out a cry.

"Keep going, ohmygod, -nng- I'm almost th-there—I'm so close," Toby moaned, his hips bucking forward quickly and chasing that climax.

"Still green?" You teased, but Toby was too focused to answer. His dick twitched under the others' hand. Sure, you were a tease, but you were never one to keep your best friend waiting. Your hand motions became faster, almost ruthless.

"Please, please, oh god please, oh my go-d." The brunet's shaky voice raised in pitch at the end of his sentence. His stomach was on fire, that burning heat pooling in his belly, the coil ready to snap—it was too much.

"Oh my god, ah, I'm gonna cum—m' gonna c-cum," he babbled. One last push, and the dam broke. His orgasm swept over him in waves, his head thrown back, his eyes rolled up. Hot cum shot from his cock in semi-opaque ropes, tainting his underwear in a sticky, uncomfortable mess. But really, he didn't care right now. You helped ride out his orgasm, palming him a little more before pulling away, watching the dark spot on the crotch of Toby's jeans spread.

His chest rose up and down as he came down from that high, relishing the remnants of bliss that lingered.

"You should probably get changed." You smirked, meeting Toby's eyes. But he was too exhausted to get up, so he laid his head back down, his ears turning red while he caught his breath.