Steve had a habit of being close. The type of close where he could sit snugly beneath your ribs, enveloped by the cushioned weight of your lungs, nestled safely against your heart, and it still wouldn’t be enough.
Be it a hand in the back pocket of your jeans, the cradle of a thumb in your belt loops, or a the secure press of a palm to the small of your back, he was always there.
Steve also had a habit of trying to get closer in bed, at your most intimate, if ever possible. As if his end goal was to tie your souls into an unbreakable knot, melding into one being.
Like right now, you straddle his naked hips as his shoulders slouch forward from the headboard he leans against for support. His heated face presses to the soft juncture of your neck, and open mouthed kisses pepper your collarbone.
Your fingers meld to the roots of his hair at the nape of his neck, barely tugging, enough to make him shudder and press his lips to you that tiny bit harder.
The desolate Harrington house comes alive with the sounds of your mingled gentle panting, Steve’s bedroom an all encompassing warmth comfortable enough for a pretty mid-June night.
“You feel so good,” he mumbles into your skin, breathy moans fanning that major artery in your neck. A dreamy sigh escapes your parted lips, right at the shell of Steve’s ear, exactly where he liked them. He always wants to hear every intricate sound that unravels when you’re lost in euphoria, sounds caused by him, the delicate stitching of your very being fraying beneath his fingertips.
Steve wraps both hands around your back, taking his time to skate his fingers over the supple rolls of your flesh. One hand settles to grasp at the fat of your hip, whilst the other smooths delicately up and down your spine. A grounding, tender sort of action that had goose flesh rising beneath his touch.
“Steve,” you whisper in his ear. He was on fire, and you burned twice as hot. A pathetic sort of noise falls from his lips, absorbing into your pulsing skin. He grips you tighter, pulling you impossibly closer, nails creating crescent moons at your hip.
Steve rolls his hips beneath you, grunting as he goes, the position you’re in permitting only the smallest of movements, though his twitching cock manages to bury itself deeper and deeper still.
He shifts up whilst you grind down, glossy eyes rolling back amongst the sheer pleasure of feeling him everywhere. Steve slides his fingers from your back to trace the cage of your ribs, the feathery pressure causes you to giggle into his hairline, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. He smiles against you, turning his face to rest his cheek to your chest to hear the thump thump thump of your heart.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs, nosing just under your chin. Sure, being roughed up was nice every once in a while. But sex with Steve was exactly like what you would read in romance books; delicate, passionate, engulfing. He could be meaner if you asked him to, but to be completely lost in each other this way was an entire world apart.
You were living out your very own romantic fairytale, and you never wanted it to end.
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just a little something something because I miss my steve 😩
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Ruggie who thinks Leona doesn't really care for him but sees him as more of a pawn to use to get to his goals. But he doesn't question it, because as much as he hates to admit it he cares for Leona
He doesn't question the fact that once he graduated from NRC Leona gave him an opportunity to be his right hand man and manages his schedule or his boring paper work
He doesn't question it when Leona asked him to be his best man for his wedding, he even prepared a corny speech to tease Leona
He doesn't question it when Leona and his wife sat him down in their room and requested that he would be their future child's guardian. Protecting them from harm and teaching them whatever he knows
It was only when Leona requested him-- Not his brother. to hold his first born child. The tiny babe's eye tightly shut, asleep-- Ruggie wonder where they got that trait from. Their tiny hand gripping Ruggie's finger with all the strength it could muster. And for the first time Ruggie saw a genuine smile on Leona's face, he patted his back. Praising him for how quickly his child took a liking to him.
That was the moment Ruggie realized how important he was to Leona.
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i really like how canonically yuu is genuinely supportive of grim wanting to be a great mage. if i recall correctly, even character voice lines point this out. and it seems like yuu dotes on grim a lot and defends him too??? yuu even encourages grim's ambitions whenever he declares wanting to be a great mage. and also when he does that boss-henchhuman dynamic. i mean yeah you can interpret it as yuu saying that being condescending and sarcastic as if they're talking to a child saying "when i grow up i want to be famous!" but like. i really think they're genuine when mc loves grim in their own way.
even if grim is usually a menace, he's become like family to yuu.
and i'm pretty sure grim feels the same way.
think about it this way. despite all the mess, all the unpredictability, the danger, and all the drama being in nrc. what's always the constant? yuu goes home at the end of the day to the ramshackle dorm (basically their home at this point considering they slowly but surely fix it up over time) and with who? “the great mage” grim. as the sole outcasts in that academy, they both sleep soundly knowing they will always have each other at the end of the day.
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astarion is so fucking stupid he's like bleh i'm so mean i don't care about other people i'm obnoxious. and also i definitely hate kids because they're gross and get dirty and anyway we don't have TIME to save the little tiefling girl. oh fine whatever i'll help you. well yes of course i'm happy she's safe. that's different though she's a thief and extremely impulsive so we're kindred spirits i still don't like kids. well of course i like MOL. she's adorable. come on, she's like eleven years old running a little gang, that's cute as all hells. and mattis of course i like little mattis, sure his techniques could use some polish but he's got the makings of the greats, oh arabella? arabella's here? out here alone in the dark? no, it's okay, sweet girl, we'll find your parents. would you like to stay with us? oh fuck you, what are you smiling at?
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☆ lazy mornings with shigaraki tomura
gods, if there's one thing that this man hated more than self-proclaimed heroes, it would be the realization at 7-8 in the morning of having forgotten to close the blinds from the night before, the rays of the sun glazing across his face.
he'd groan, pulling your body closer to his. he was at least a little glad that you hadn't moved away from him, still cuddled up against him. his head buried in your hair, eyes shut closed as he did his best to avoid the light going directly into his eyes.
he didn't want to get up to close up the blinds. too comfortable in his current position. you were keeping him warm, shielding him from the morning rays.
when you eventually got up and out of his arms, equally as grumpy as he, for the same reason, he was more than disappointed to be deprived of your touch, even if just momentarily. you stumbled twice on your way to the window, practically falling to the bed as you got back; but on the bright side, the room was pitch black.
he wasted no moment pulling you back into his body, pinching your side, a silent way of telling you that you shouldn't have left his embrace. and to that, you bumped your head into his chest, as if shutting him up.
he whined, resisting the urge to bite your arm for the "attitude problem" that he liked to point out on you. he couldn't be bothered, he was too engaged in the way your body fit perfectly around his, as if you were made to be his personal body pillow, who just happened to piss him off in a mildly endearing way at times.
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