Summary: Thinking he needs to find a date, Natasha signs Steve up to Tinder. In Queens, Peter Parker does the same to you. It’s a match!
Word Count: 1,723
A/N: This is already planned out and written (in my head). I loved writing this.
Nat raised a brow, a mysterious
curve to her smile. Steve was immediately suspicious. He felt his shoulders
stiffen and his back straighten. He knew he looked like he had a stick up his
ass, but he couldn’t help himself. Not when Natasha looked like the cat that
had eaten the canary, and wanted to
“You left your phone on the coffee
table,” she said. Her tone was relaxed, which made Steve more nervous.
His eyes narrowed. “What did you
do, Romanoff?” he questioned, broad arms crossing over an equally-broad chest.
She merely shrugged before she
turned her right-hand palm-up and relaxing it. Steve’s phone was revealed. “See
Ancient Romans built concrete sea walls that have withstood pounding ocean waves for more than 2,000 years. Now, an international team has discovered a clue to the concrete’s longevity: a rare mineral forms during chemical reactions between the concrete and seawater that strengthen the material.
Structural engineers might be able to use these insights to make stronger, more-sustainable concrete, says team leader Marie Jackson, a geologist at the University of Utah in Salt Lake City. She and her colleagues report their findings on 3 July in American Mineralogist1.
➾ warnings: incredibly filthy smut with no plot at all | cumplay | dirty talk | tit fucking | slight demeaning names/ name calling | face fucking | oral sex | unprotected sex
➾ summary: ceo!jimin takes it upon himself to discipline you when your attire doesn’t exactly adhere to HR regulations
➾ a/n: okay look this is just my excuse to write a ceo!jimin smut… i just felt like i owed him big time after what i did to him in instant gratification :”) i speed wrote this in a day and didn’t proofread whatsoever rip…
The clattering sounds of typing,
clicking and pages flipping lull you into a state of lethargy as your eyes
flutter half-shut in your cubicle. Having graduated as an arts major two years
ago, you’d never imagine being holed up with a mundane 9-5 office job that had
almost nothing to do with your major. But bills needed to be paid and rent had
to come from somewhere, so you find yourself trudging to work soulessly every
morning, day in day out.
“Hey, are you almost done with those
files I gave you this morning?” The voice of your co-worker Mingyu in the next
cubicle jolts you into awareness immediately.
@taylor-tut tHIS IS SO LATE I’M SO SORRY MY FAB FRIENDO! But! It has finally arrived!! I’m sorry if it’s a bit crappy, I like haven’t slept in three days haha
anyhoo, onto the story:
Lance woke up with a
He blinked his eyes
open, immediately groaning at the light that pierced through his eyeballs and
into his temples. He brought an arm up to shield his face, shivering slightly.
Taking a deep breath, Lance conducted a mental survey of his condition, assessing
his apparently numerous ailments that seem to have manifested overnight.
that dissolved into a throbbing headache that pulsed outward with each
throat, and lungs that rattled with every inhale? Check.
sensation of being completely, bone-numbingly cold despite the warmth and
clamminess of his limbs? Checkerooni.
is gonna suck.
If Lance were to be
perfectly honest with himself, he would concede that he had been feeling off these last couple days. Nevertheless, the
team needed his 100% right now, and any wooziness he may have felt had to be
put on the backburner. With several months having passed without any sign of
Shiro, tensions within the castle were palpable. Keith and Pidge seemed inches away from
snapping at any given moment, Allura’s training schedule seemed to have been
kicked up the several notches from “very harsh” to “dear god I
can taste my own pulse”, and even Hunk and Coran seemed somewhat subdued.
It was the least Lance could do to try and keep up, and make sure the other’s
stayed optimistic. He was the joker, the sharpshooter - it was his role, no
matter how taxing it could be on his own body.
himself, counting down from five, before swinging out of his bed, pausing to
lean against the wall as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Once the
tilt-a-whirl he usually called a bedroom settled to a soft swaying, Lance began
to make his way down to the dining hall.