#idk i cant write lol

[evillillad]

im dying but heres the idea behind nina and mollys mob au ahehe ahoho ok i go sleep its 12am

(mob au from @clownsuu)

[buppkizz]

a very small engiespy moment...

[sourapplesauces]

This is meant to be after the circus, its non canon to my au but its still my human designs ahshshs. I did this on aggie so its super oversimplified and i didnt have much of a story to begin with buuut i sorta came up with one i guess.

The main idea is that nearly a year after escaping the circus, Jax manages to find most of the cast including Pomni and Ragatha. But he doesn’t tell them about it and instead suggests Pomni visit a local café which he is aware Ragatha works at. They end up having this encounter and they’re immediately drawn to each other but they dont reveal who they really are because they both have doubts. So they end up meeting over and over again until eventually theyre like omg ur the loml!!! bla bla bla they grow old and die together. The end!!

[willowser]

bakugou watches the news while washing the dishes.

muted, because he wouldn't be able to hear the weatherman over the faucet, anyway, and his brow is furrowed in concentration — at both his hands and the forecast for next week. behind him on the stove the kettle warms and you eye it lazily, jumping back and forth from it to the way bakugou's muscles shift beneath his shirt as he scrubs.

sometimes it amazes you, the strength he's built within his body — the broad span of his shoulders as he rolls them, sleeves almost too tight for his biceps, and the rest of the material hangs loose on his body, swaying off his tiny waist as he swaps weight from one foot to the other — but you know it hasn't come easy; even now, from where you're sitting, the heavy, pink scarring on his cheek is visible when he tips his head down.

you stand quietly, shuffling across the tile of the kitchen until you're close enough to wrap your arms around him. bakugou says nothing as you press your cheek into his back, only peeking over his shoulder when you press a gentle kiss into his soft cotton tee.

"thank you for spoiling me," you murmur, nuzzling further into him when you receive only a grunt, one you feel more than hear. "the food was really good, sweetie-pea."

the silly name makes him snort and he shakes his head when you hum, amused. dinner has made you full and tired and you lean a little further into him than you maybe should, though if he minds at all, he doesn't show it. instead he just sighs, breath stuttering when you slip your hands under the loose material to gently run over his stomach. just like you, he's soft, a tummy full of food, but it's not long before his abdomen is contracting, muscles suddenly tight under your touch.

you laugh quietly into his shoulder, holding back the urge to bite him. "are you flexing, tough guy?"

"shuddup," he grumbles, shifting his weight once more. "...bein' fuckin' touchy."

at that you inch closer, now purposely much too in his space — and yet he still doesn't push you away. around his shoulder, you watch him run a soapless plate under the water for almost two minutes before his focus returns and he moves on, and then you do bite him, because you can't help it.

bakugou hisses and jerks away when your teeth sink into his bicep, flushed face made more obvious as he turns to glare down at you. before he can get a word in, you kiss him in the center of his chest, over the scars of his heart, and offer him a sweet smile.

"love you,"

his eyes dart away on instinct, embarrassed, but he's been working on his vulnerability; his lips twist once before he's pressing them into your hairline, leaning back against you in return as the kettle starts to squeal.

"drink your tea, woman," he grunts, nuzzling into you the tiniest bit before letting you free. "love you, too."

[jingyuan-doodles]

hallo, I saw you asking for suggestions on what to draw for Jing Yuan and I suggest that you draw Jing Yuan and the hcq gossiping lol

this got way out of hand

[valiantartwritingweasel]

❦ Oh no, there seems to be only one bed. Whatever will we do? pt.2❦

My favourite hate-love trope in which you have to share a bed with your crush.

Finally leaving my drafts now after everyone started making the "too many beds trope" (which is funny ngl)

pt.1 here

//Thoma, Itto, Dottore, Alhaitam//

(you can tell on who I just gave up entirely. Also my english is deterioating, maybe I'll proofread in the following days...)

no pronouns mentioned :)

❦

Thoma

If you didn't know better you'd say that this situation was carefully crafted by your employer. It had to be. Ayato had fun watching you squirm around your colleague. Which you did anytime Thoma shot you one of his signature smiles, or when he leaned over your shoulder to inspect what you were doing. You folded so quickly whenever he laughed at one of your jokes. How could you not? The guy was the sweetest thing one could ever lay eyes on.

All of that aside, you just had a feeling that this situation was no coincidence, as you stood there, next to your fellow maid, staring at the bed.

You blinked, then looked over at Thoma.

The poor guy. 

Before you could actually grasp the situation and make a comment about it, he already yelled out "I can sleep on the floor". 

When you turned to look at him, the first thing you noticed were his bright red cheeks. The second thing you noticed was the mild terror in his facial features. 

You blinked at him, taken aback by surprise before mumbling "You sound like the thought of sharing a bed is dreadful to you." You let out an awkward cough before speaking up again "I wouldn't want you to sleep on the floor but.. maybe we can find another mattress, if it's really that bad for you?" you raised an eyebrow, eyeing him with suspicion.

A shimmer of dicomfort hushed across his features. The accusation didn't sit right with him. He cleared his throat while scratching the back of his head in embarassement "Hm, no. That's not... what I meant...". He sighed "I just wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable you know.." A sheepish smile crossed his features while the blush only seemed to worsen "I'd actually.. like bedding with you- Ah!" He caught himself in a cough "Not..not like that! Oh" He hid his mouth beneath his hand, staring at you "Please say something before I keep talking".

Your only answer to that was a soft laugh, followed by a quiet but adoring "Alright, let's bed together then." With a smile you went ahead to get ready for the night, giving the blonde a second to compose himself before following your example.

(would sleep on the floor, maybe even outside if you'd ask him to)

❦

Itto

As soon as the two of you laid eyes on the bed..: "Dips" both of you yelled in unison, before staring at each other.

"Well" you crossed your arms "sharing is caring…?" You tilted your head and he nodded. "Yeah yeah, that's right. We'll just share. It'll be fiiine". He looked embarrassed but you didn't know what caused it. Maybe he was just nervous that he might fart during the night or something.

Then a thought hit you. "Oh" you looked at him "oh my, do you snore?". Your eyes widened in horror at the mental image of how loud he'd probably snore. He seemed offended. "What? ME? Snore? Noooo I don't snore" he made a move with his hand. 

All in all: "I'm not convinced" you sighed. 

"Okay okay, tell ya what" he pointed a finger at you "I know I don't snore but if you find me snoring in the night, I'll give you money. If I don't snore I'll get to take you out. How does that sound? Deal?" He extended his hand, which you naturally took to shake "Yeah whatever big boy, all you're gonna end with is crippling debt" you laughed. You didn't actually know if he was a snorer but you just had to believe now.

Both of you shook hands when you paused "Hold on" you narrowed your eyes, shooting him a confused look "why take me out? Like…you don't mean as in…death right??". He gasped "WHAT? No no no, not like death, I mean like food. Eat something. Make you less hungry yknow?". He shrugged "I've wanted to ask for some time now but the chance never came", he scratched his head embarrassed before returning to his signature grin "but now I'M going to win and you have to come with me. You can't say no!".

You chuckled quietly, shaking your head in disbelief 'what an idiot' you thought. "Alright" you murmured "let's get to bed then" 

(You cannot tell me that the guy doesn't snore, I am CONVINCED that he does (my friend said he'd probably have a snore bubble too and now I can't unthink it (ANOTHER friend mentioned how he doesn't sleep with his eyes closed, I'm losing my mind at the mental image)))

❦

Alhaitam

As soon as he sees your embarrassed expression he´s like „we´ll sleep on the floor“ and that‘s it. I know you wanted this. Thank me later.

❦

Dottore

Never would you have guessed that one day you'd end up in this situation.

You, standing next to your BOSS of all people, in front of a lonely bed.

It's not like you hated the man next to you. In fact he was actually quite nice towards you. Or…at least as nice as the guy could get. But you were still alive after like 3 years of working for him, so that already counted for something. 

You were more of a simple task person, so everyone always dumped some sort of random task onto you. Through that, you've managed to actually befriend some of your colleagues although you've started to not get too personal with them. Sometimes some of them just went missing and you really didn't want to ask anyone what that was about. Instead you opted for the emotional distance option. 

It was wild to think about. The only reason Dottore took you with him on his mission was because everyone else was busy, preparing for something big. You, on the other hand, were not so busy. All that was left for you to do was to bring an occasional glass of water to one of the other workers. So when Dottore asked you to join him on his travels, you just nodded, not giving it much thought. 

But even if you had given it much thought, the idea of ending up sharing a bed together would've probably been the last thing to cross your mind. 

Before you could actually grasp the entire situation though, Dottore had already started taking off his unnessecary accesoires, leaving them on the bedside table. Clearly he didn't care about the whole situation.

You on the other hand needed another second or two to collect yourself. You looked at him, wondering if he even mentally checked that this was about to happen or if he was so far off into logic land to recognize your presence in the first place. Sighing you just took off into the bathroom, following your bed routine like usual....

(says either we take turns on the bed or we share, who cares honestly, the man's on a mission)

[wikiangela]

thinking about buck and Tommy showing up to some firefam dinner/barbecue/some family event, someone notices a hickey peeking out from under Tommy's collar (or maybe there's one in a very visible, impossible to cover up with clothes place), someone makes some teasing joke/comment, buck goes all red but smiles proudly when Tommy grins and says 'yeah, someone got a little carried away last night' with a soft and playful look at buck, and Buck shrugs, says 'gotta make sure people know you're mine' and he leans in to kiss Tommy, just a chaste peck, and someone's like 'ew, get a room' and Buck chuckles and he's so happy to be able to just joke with his family and his boyfriend, and be so open and free about how in love he is, and Tommy's right next to him with his hand on Buck's knee under the table, and he's never been happier

[mintypsii]

not a part 2, but here's a prequel to this sanuso comic I did last month !!! (takes place the night before ,, technically after the first three panels)

[athina-blaine]

kabru's relationship with his eyes makes for suuuuuch a fantastic trans allegory (an aspect of your body alienating you from your community, being compelled to understand the perspective of someone who also has a complicated relationship with their body in the hopes that you'll better understand your own, people straight up misunderstanding biology) it makes me kind of insane because now I feel like I can't dig into any complicated feelings he might have about his body in relation to his gender without feeling like im just ... double dipping?? like fifjpejgh ryoko kui straight up already told that story in a way that exquisitely fucks??

[opens-up-4-nobody]

:-P

[copepods]

i alwys get annoyed when i see fanon depictions of artificer being affectionate with five pebbles because in my mind artificer has complicated feelings towards him that lean towards dislike and they see him more as a weird alien creature-machine who carries a great deal of knowledge and talks to arti for lack of anything better to do, and artificer brings him pearls to stave off crushing hopelessness and loneliness but like i dont think artificer actually likes him. i think theyd find him off-putting and unpleasant. of course that's just headcanon in my mind though which is why its a little funny that alternate depictions annoy me so much. we are all making this shit up

[spideystevie]

sweet nothing

summary: five glimpses of sweet nothings

word count: 3.6k

a/n: based off sweet nothing from midnights. something about this song man. it’s not edited (boo) but i hope you guys like it <3

1. tiny as a firefly.

There’s a lingering bite of winter in the morning air. You can’t remember Steve’s windows being opened last night but then again, you hadn’t been paying much attention to that. The bed grows cold without him lying next to you warming you up like the burning embers of a fire. 

A small breeze flutters the curtains. The air smells sweet, fresh like morning dew though it drives a shiver down the length of your spine. Steve’s old t-shirt’s done little to warm you up from the moment you put it on to brush your teeth this morning. You nestle yourself into the covers on his bed that still smell like him and now a hint of you intermingled. It elicits a small sound of bliss. 

The tap runs in the bathroom while Steve brushes his teeth. You hold a bundle of sheets close to you as you shift up towards the headboard. A tiny bit of heat creeps up your neck to your cheeks at the maze of clothes haphazardly left around his bedroom floor. 

Your gaze falls onto his bedside table and a disbelief crosses your eyes. It’s nothing major, something that would seem otherwise insignificant to prying eyes. A small pebble from the quarry, something he’d shoved into the pocket of his jeans on your first date. 

The water stops running and there’s a small clatter as he puts his toothbrush away. You lean across to prod at the gray stone, picking it up into your awaiting palm. 

“You still have this?” you call out. Steve pokes his head out of the bathroom, eyebrows furrowed. His eyes soften into little pools of love when he sees you bundled in his sheets, slivers of bare skin showing from his shirt hanging off your shoulder and a tiny pebble in your palm. 

“‘Course I do,” he says like it should’ve been obvious. You look up at him as he walks back to his bed, pajama pants he’d thrown on this morning sitting low on his hips. You smile up at him, scooting over so he can crawl back into bed with you. 

The bed immediately feels warmer as you curl back into his side. He plucks the pebble out of your palm and rolls it between the pads of his thumb and index finger. 

“Told you I was gonna keep it forever,” he says softly, looking at you somehow even softer. You can feel your heart melt down into liquid gold. He presses a kiss to your temple, nose buried into your hair. Steve puts the pebble back onto his side table, next to a framed photo of the two of you on your birthday.

He turns back and all but tackles you back into a reclined position in his bed, a shriek like laugh escaping you. “Steve!”

Steve’s upper body lays across yours, his forearms framing the sides of your head and holding him up above you. He’s grinning through the smattering of kisses he’s placing all along the length of your neck and every plane of your face. Your fingers fumble for purchase on his cheeks, pausing his sporadic kisses to pull his lips down to yours. It’s gentle and tender like the morning, a sweet press of his smile against yours.

2. on the way home. 

“When does your class get out?”

There’s a slight beat of silence while you finish your mouthful of cereal. A clink of metal spoons against ceramic bowls from his parent’s kitchen cabinets while you rack through your memory for the correct time. 

“3:30,” you swivel towards him on your barstool, socked foot nudging against his calf. “Why?”

“So I know when to pick you up, silly,” his smile is boyish, crooked at the corners. You shake your head, smiling despite it. 

“You don’t have to do that,” you say, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into your mouth. Steve hooks a foot around the leg of your stool and pulls it closer to his. His arm goes around your waist to steady you, hand slipping beneath your shirt to rest against the skin there. He’s eating left handed now, milk drips onto the counter from his spoon. 

“‘Course I do,” he says over a half-chewed bite of honey nut cheerios. He swallows, sets the spoon in the bowl, looks at you. “What else am I supposed to do as your boyfriend besides drive you around?”

You pretend to think, humming to really sell it. He shakes his head at you with a slight laugh. 

“I dunno,” you settle, looking at the last few pieces of cereal floating in the bowl. You feel a little shy, sparing a glance at him with a sheepish smile. Steve thinks you’re heaven sent. “Tell me you love me, for one thing.” You keep going, gesturing with your hands. “Hold my bag when my shoulder gets tired, loan me your clothes, kiss m-”

And he does. Kiss you. Right in the middle of your teasing ramble. Your bottom lip curved between his. It’s simple, sweet, leaves you with warm cheeks and a racing heart like it’s the first time all over again. 

It takes restraint not to run out the classroom doors when your professor ends the lecture. You know what’s waiting for you outside the doors to the building. A pretty boy leaning up against a flash of maroon, sporting a proud grin reserved for you. 

Just as you imagined, he’s there at the front of the parking lot. His sunglasses perch on his nose and he’s leaning his back against the passenger side of his car. You light up like stars in a night sky when you see him, feeling an almost magnetic pull to him. 

Steve slides his sunglasses up to rest on the top of his head, a few wavy tendrils slipping onto his forehead while you walk up to the car, breaking into a jog when it’s close enough. His arms open at his sides, ready for you to slip into them, molding yourself back into one celestial being. 

Your arms go around his shoulders, his around your waist best he can with your backpack on. Hugging Steve always feels like it’s own way of coming home, something reaffirming and sure as the sun rising and setting. You settle onto your feet, arms sliding down until your hands rest over his chest. 

“Missed you,” Steve says. His smile is all kinds of charming and sweet like honey. Your lips twitch into a smile. 

“It’s only been like three hours,” a slight giggle coats your words as you squint up at him, the sun sitting just over his shoulder.

“I know, tell me about it,” he almost groans, dipping down to kiss your smile with his. It warms you more than the sun in the sky, leaves you feeling like you could burst at the seams. It’s innocent for the parking lot but you pull away first, eager to not cause a scene. 

Steve opens your door for you and holds your hand on the way home. He’s an eager listener when he asks about your day and you’re more than willing to spare any and every detail. You angle yourself towards him, one knee pulled up onto your seat, your joined hands settling on your thigh. 

“Totally aced that quiz from last week by the way,” you say, not even downplaying your brag. Steve grins.

“Of course you did, with the mind that you have,” he presses a kiss to your hand, waits until the next red light to kiss your proper. It happens all the time, the little spouts of praise when you do well, when you do just about anything. You don’t think you’ll ever tire of how it makes you feel sticky inside with love. 

3. in the kitchen humming. 

The wall is a crutch, holding up your sleep fatigued body. His back is to you, long stretches of muscle beneath bare skin. Freckles dot his skin, constellations you love to trace at night. The smile that stretches your lips and lifts your cheeks is fuzzy with sleep, dripping with love.

For a moment, you let this be life. Steve cooking you breakfast in his pajamas, the coffee brewing aromatic and slowly waking you up. A glimpse of normalcy, a life near into the future with your own carpeted floors and no otherworldly threats. Something muddles your heart in your chest at the thought until it’s nothing but a mess of Steve and love and everything good he brings out in you. 

He’s humming to himself as he alternates between pans, the muscles in his arms and back flexing and shifting beneath his skin as he does. You don’t think he hears you cross the kitchen to him, his socks on your feet quieting your footsteps on the tile. 

Your fingertips brush against his sides, a butterfly kiss hello to let him know you’re there. His humming morphs more into sounds of delight than a song as your arms wrap around his bare torso, your forehead pressing just below the line of his shoulders. The skin between his shoulder blades is warm, your lips pressing a lingering kiss against a freckle that makes its home there. 

“Morning, sleepyhead,” his voice still has a twist of the morning in it, the edges of his words rugged. You squish your cheek against his back, your smile smushed but clear and evident in your response.

“Morning, loverboy.”

“You were supposed to be in bed,” he says. The implication of breakfast in bed is there and it leaves you soft on the edges. You feel like you’re morphing into a languid flow of burning admiration for the boy you’re wrapped around. He can feel you rub your nose across his skin, your chin settling at his right shoulder. You try to catch his eye, though you know it’s unlikely from your position. 

“Got too cold without you,” your lips pucker into a pout, one he’d kiss without a second thought had he been able to see it. You can feel the laugh rumble in his body, lighthearted, almost apologetic. He doesn’t say anything, just continues to cook breakfast, flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs. 

You don’t let go of him once, just step and move with him like you’re one beating vessel. The lingering sleep makes you feel needy, lips dragging against freckles, soft from the fatigue. When the burners are turned off, your stomach rumbles almost immediately after. It makes a laugh bubble out of Steve. 

The two of you eat at the kitchen table this time instead of the stools at the kitchen counter. Your chairs are nearly pressed together and Steve lets you drape your legs over his lap. His free hand dances over your legs, callused palm a warm comfort against your skin. Your hand sits in your lap while you eat, Steve’s giving your fingers a squeeze every now and then. 

You set your fork down, bringing your hand to the back of his head. His hair is soft between your fingers as you scratch at his scalp. It’s quiet while you eat, a specific kind of comforting silence that comes with time, with knowing each other as well as you do. 

Both of your smiles are a little slow from the weekend drowsiness. Steve’s features are muffled around the edges, soft and a little lovestruck as he looks at you. Your hair’s a little messy from sleep still, the sweater of his you wear bunched up at the tops of your thighs. You’ve never looked prettier and he can’t help himself. 

He presses his lips to yours in a syrupy sweet kiss, your lips both a little sticky from breakfast. You can’t find it in yourselves to care.

4. too soft for all of it.

Steve Harrington is good. The springtime sun personified. 

You’ve known Steve long enough to know he shoulders more than he needs to, gives his all until the well is depleted. You’ve only ever known him to be selfless, brave. And you love him for all of it, but you worry about him more than anything.

His parents had come home, nothing Steve didn’t think he couldn’t handle. Until their usual one week pitstop in the big house became two, became three. It was going on an entire month, the longest they’d stayed since he was in high school and it was weighing him down.

They had insisted on having you over for dinner before they left town, making a point of saying how eager they were to “meet the person who’d be bold enough to stick around.” He tries not to dwell on his father’s comment when he makes an excuse on your behalf. A part of him wants the relief of having you there but the other part of him doesn’t want you exposed to this. 

He wants to keep you tucked inside his pocket like a hidden treasure. Keep the good and the bad parts of his life as separate from each other as he can. 

He calls you that night after they leave to catch a redeye flight to Boston, his voice almost begging you to come over. You don’t hesitate.

There’s an obvious tension radiating off of Steve’s house as you walk up to the front door. Your knuckles rap against the wood and when no one answers you worry you might’ve knocked too soft. As you lift your fist to knock again, the door swings open, and there stands Steve. 

Off the bat you can tell it’s not the Steve you’re used to. 

There’s a heaviness on Steve’s shoulders, visible at least to you, dragging him down like he’s shouldering the entirety of the world. His steps drag, eyes downturned and lips slanted into a frown. When he smiles at you it doesn’t make his eyelids kiss, doesn’t have the usual sparkle and shine. 

You’re fretting over him the minute you step into his orbit. A hand cupping his cheek, thumb swiping over the skin. Steve doesn’t know how to tell you that he feels infinitely more at home now that you’re here. You don’t have to ask what’s wrong. 

There’s an unspoken communication between you as you look at each other, drinking in the other like you hadn’t seen each other for an extremely elapsed time.

His house feels cold, empty despite the two extra bodies that had been occupying the space previously. None of it feels like home. You’re desperate to change that.

You push him towards the couch, sitting him down. He wraps a hand around your wrist before you can drift into the kitchen.

“Can we just sit?” he asks. Your features soften, body deflating as you nod. You tuck yourself into the corner of the sofa, motioning for him to lay his head across your lap. Your fingers immediately tuck themselves into his hair when he does. 

He closes his eyes, lets himself come back to himself. For a moment nothing else matters but your fingers in his hair. There’s no outsiders pushing and shoving, no lingering memory of his parents. It’s just you and him and his parent’s overpriced couch. 

You give him the time to relax, breathe now that he can call his house a home again. There’s a simplicity to the love you share, a peace that you can share, a dependable comfort that you can give and take. Steve feels overwhelmed in every sense of the word.

“M’glad you came,” he says, his eyes still closed. He misses your soft smile. You give a gentle tug at his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. 

“You needed me,” you state simply. You watch the Adam's apple in his throat bob as he swallows. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Was just the same thing all over again. He just kept going on and on about how I should be doing more,” a pinch forms between his eyebrows. “I feel like I should be used to it at this point, you know? But it’s so hard.”

Your fingers twist and twirl pieces of his hair, careful to be gentle.

“Can I tell you something?” his voice sounds so small when he asks. You nod before you realize he can’t see it. 

“Course you can,” you keep your voice soft.

“Sometimes I believe him. My dad. When he says those things…I don’t know, sometimes it just feels like maybe he’s right.” 

“Steve,” you frown. There’s a pause of silence only to be broken by a sniffle from Steve that he tries to disguise by pinching at his nose with his thumb and forefinger, like he can snuff out the impending tears. Your fingers pause as a tear slips past his eyelids and slides down towards his ear. “Oh, honey.”

You pull at his shoulders, awkwardly rearranging your limbs until his head is on your shoulder, face pressed into your neck. His tears are warm against your skin and leave wet splotches on the collar of your shirt. You don’t mind, running a soothing hand through his hair and up and down his spine. 

It’s not often that Steve cries, at least in front of you. Always so determined to be the strong one, the tough exterior that let things bounce off of him. Everything has to crack sometimes. On the rare accounts, it’s a private confession that only you’re privy to. That despite it all, Steve’s too soft for all of it sometimes.

“He’s wrong, you know?” you say when his tears have started to wane. He sniffles, nods against your shoulder. His hair tickles your neck. “Sometimes Steve, I think you should be doing less.”

He laughs, it’s wet and a little hoarse from his crying. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Steve you do so much and bend so far sometimes I think you’re going to snap. And I love that you care so much but I wish you’d give yourself the same amount of care and grace that you give to everyone else.”

You nudge his head, prompting him to lift it up to look at you. You wipe away the leftover wet from tears with your thumbs, keeping your hands gentle yet firm against his cheeks.

“I love you,” he says before you can say anything else. He hopes you know how deeply he means it. Hopes you know how much it means to him that you love him because he’s him, not for anything else. You kiss your response into his forehead, willing it to sink through his skin into his brain.

5. running home to your sweet nothings.

Friday seemed to last a week, the hours stretching apart like taffy and the minutes moving along like molasses. The prospect of the weekend was just out of reach, a mirage off the horizon. 

You’d had a morning class and work right after, Steve working at the same time which meant he didn’t get to drive you. The last you’d seen of each other was a blurry rush that morning as you danced around each other, pressing a quick goodbye closer to your chin than your mouth before getting out the door. 

It wasn’t clear if it was the day actually being long or being apart from one another that made time seem to shift along as slowly as it could. You wanted nothing more than to be within the four walls of his parent’s house, a place you’d found a way to make home with them gone. 

Steve’s car is in the driveway when you pull up outside. There’s a clatter in the kitchen, a telling sound of Steve getting ready to make dinner for the two of you. You’re toeing off your shoes, body feeling heavy with exhaustion when he comes into view. 

“Honey, you’re home,” he grins, quick to gather you up in your arms. You relax into him, arms wrapped around his middle. He laughs a little at the way your body sinks against him. “Tired?”

“Very,” you all but groan. “Missed you. Was too long.”

You’re not as coherent, sentences clipped but the sentiment is there. Steve presses a kiss to the top of your head, his nose smushed into your hair. It smells like his shampoo.

“Was gonna make us dinner, pretty thing. Does that sound good?” he loosens his hold on you for a moment to look at you. You hold him tighter against you, inhaling him in while you drag your head against his chest until your chin sits against it. He smiles down at you, a hand moving to smooth out your hair. “There y’are.”

Your smile is lovesick and blurred with fatigue around the edges. “Can’t we just lie down? Skip dinner?”

Your grumbling stomach corrupts any option of skipping dinner. Steve laughs and you can feel it vibrate through his chest. He stoops to kiss you, pliant and soft. 

“We can lay in bed the rest of the night after dinner, yeah? The whole weekend even,” he says, lips close enough to yours that they brush against yours when he talks. “That sound good?”

You nod, kissing him again.

He stays true to his word, doesn’t even bother with the dishes after dinner. Instead, he ushers you up to his bedroom. The two of you are in your own little trance as you get ready for bed, soft sleepy giggles filling the spaces between you. 

You teeter on the edge of sleep almost immediately when you get into bed, Steve’s hushed sweet nothings against your ear lulling you into sleep. Steve thinks he could burst with how much he loves you, with the knowledge that you love him just the same as you stitch yourself against him in your sleep. 

Love flowed steady between you, simple and serene. You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[andypantsx3]

i have so much respect for fandom elders

they are truly some of the kindest, most positive, and most knowledgeable people out there

[puppyeared]

its so hard to watch time pass when things like careers and assignments exist. what do you mean im supposed to take that seriously

[willowser]

when you and bakugou are in line at the grocery store and waiting to check out, he stands tall with his shoulders broad and watches the way you twist your lips, how you sway back and forth on your feet, twitches away when you poke him impishly in the stomach. you get all antsy and he tries to bat your hands away, but eventually grabs them both in his own and turns you around and pulls you back into his chest, swaying with you in time, resting his chin on your head.

[crybaby-bkg]

you know its wrong. he knows its wrong. but its something about the wrongness of it all, the sneaking around, the secrets, the pleasure, that makes it all so worth it.

"Nurse, would you mind staying late again today? I'm going to need your help with pushing these records through to Kyoto." Doctor Getou informs you, as he peeks his head into the break room. you perk up instantly, already knowing the insinuation of his message that the other nurses clearly don't get.

"Of course, Doctor." you nod to him, meek, as if you were nervous to stay late around the very prestigious, very professional and non-rule breaking doctor. if only.

when he walks away, the nurses start to gossip, elbowing you in your side, telling you how lucky you are to be able to stare at him a little longer. that if they were in your shoes, they would do more than push records with him. that you should take the opportunity to at least let him kiss you, with tongue.

if only they knew that it was so much more than that.

"I think you like this," Getou says against your mouth, panting, his own smiling. but you can't seem to form enough thought to close your own, too focused on not sliding off of his desk that he's got you on right now. he fucks you on it hard enough that papers go flying, that his computer mouse is knocked on the floor, that the desk has scraped up the linoleum from the exertion.

"Ask me, nurse; what do I like?" Dr. Getou grabs your face in his hands when he realizes that you're too fucked out to really hear him. that's what two orgasms back to back will do to a person, especially without reprieve. he smacks your cheeks a few times, calling your name sweetly when it still doesn't bring you back down to earth.

"What," you swallow down the spit accumulated on your tongue. "What do I like, Dr. Getou?" he groans at the title, something you've discovered makes his cock twitch when he's inside of you. maybe its because you moan it so debauchedly in the late afternoons, and turn around in the morning and say it so sweetly in front of your coworkers, in front of your patients, in front of Dr. Gojo who still thinks he might have a chance with you.

"You like the secrecy of it all," he smiles, looking so composed save for the flush on his cheeks and the strand of hair that's fallen from his bun from fucking you against the wall earlier. "You like knowing something so painstakingly obvious, yet no one can even guess what goes on between us. You like looking so innocent and meek, even though your hole swallows me up, greedy, every time I call for you."

he sounds so cocky, so sure of himself, like you're some pet that comes crawling every time he places his palm out in front of you. you try to frown at him, to pout, but he fucks the expression right off until it melts into one of pure bliss.

"That's not true," you still try to fight back, despite the way your thighs wrap around his hips when he fakes like he's going to pull out. he fixes you with a knowing look, but doesn't stop, grabbing your chest in his hand, the other toying with your swollen clit.

"Don't try to deny it, sweetheart. This tells me everything I need to know." he says with another flick of your clit, cocky, grinning all the while. and even though you try to deny it again, Dr. Getou works your body the way he knows will bring you into a puddle of nothingness in only a matter of seconds. after all, the doctor always knows best.