#just a thought 🥹

[whattheheckmidoriya]

Levi taking up beading after the war. He's still getting used to the technicalities of his injuries and the new limitations they pose in his life, so he starts looking for ways to keep his hands busy.

Pottery is too messy and strains his back. Knitting and crocheting test his patience just a bit more than he'd like. Baking bores him as he spends enough time in the kitchen as it is in his tea shop.

But beading seems to have hit a sweet spot for him. It's simple enough, keeps his mind at work, and you seem to enjoy it as well. That makes it all the more enticing to him.

He's meticulous about his work. Levi doesn't have a collection of beads; he simply buys what he needs— what he thinks you'll like. He was never one for bright colors, but they look so lovely on you.

The memory of you frowning because you didn't have nice earrings to match with your new dress lingers at the back of his mind. Just a week later, he'd gifted you a new pair of earrings that perfectly complemented the outfit.

He scoffs at himself lightly. Humanity's Strongest spending his new life making silly little trinkets and accessories? It sounded almost ridiculous.

But the twinkle of joy in your eyes, your soft gasps of surprise, and squeals of excitement makes it all so, so worth it.

[6okuto]

🧺 #1 “please? i can’t sleep without you.” with osamu for @etoiile from my fruits basket :D

warning: fem!reader is called "princess" once

“yer still down here?”

osamu’s groggy voice jolts you from a daze. it’s past midnight, you’re sure as you turn to look at him standing at the bottom of the stairs. despite the drowsiness kicking in, you try to shoot him a smile. “sorry, samu. i’m almost done, i promise.”

he hums and makes his way to your desk, grey slippers that match your own padding against the wooden tiles. you note the pitch black he walked through to get to the study. “do i haveta stop you from overworkin’ again?”

“i’m not overworking.”

“sweetheart,” he warns with a sickeningly sweet mumble to your temple—one you hate, one he always uses when you’re at your weakest and he knows his win is inevitable—followed close by arms wrapping around your middle. 

“i’m not, i’m just–” you huff defiantly anyway, but the black size 12 letters start to bleed and blur on your screen, and you have to rub your eyes before looking at him. “i’ll be in bed soon.”

“soon as in now?”

“samu.”

“hon.”

his fingers make a slow path beneath your shirt, a gentle hand landing on your stomach. he takes a deep breath, and warm air fans across your skin as he mumbles again, “please? i can’t sleep without ya.”

the text cursor blinks at you—faster than your own have been for the past 5 minutes—as he wets his lips and presses against you.

“...damn you, osamu miya.”

osamu’s act falls as fast as it came, his pout morphing into a smirk as he chuckles and nips at your neck. “is that how you wanna talk t’your sleepy, doting husband?”

“oh shut up, i’ll go brush my teeth.”

“yeah?” he tilts his head and smirks. “need me to carry ya, my tired princess?”

“no, i do not, thank you.” you roll your eyes as you turn off the monitor and stand up.

“m’kay, i’ll still come with you.”

you snort, trying and failing to suppress a smile, “wow, so needy tonight.”

“needy?” he pinches your cheek as you turn off the monitor and stand up (and breathes a laugh when you whine his name). “more like i need t’make sure y’don’t fall asleep at the counter.”

“oh come on, that happened once—”

“yeah, and i’m making sure it won’t happen a second time. because i love you,” he both teases and reminds you, the sparkle in his eyes half amusement, half worry and affection.

so you lean against him, let an arm wrap around your shoulder and lips kiss your forehead, with little to say but “i love you too.”

you’re sure the work can be done another day.

[willowser]

lately i've just been thinking so much about bakugou with a kid in sports, like. you're at the softball game and have to hold his hand the entire time to stop him from doing an aggressively whispered "fuck yeah!" and fistpump every time your daughter makes it to another base without getting tagged. and if she does get out, he's the first, and loudest, one to call "horseshit!!!!"

every other game the coach is pulling you aside to have a serious conversation about "sportsmanship", and even though he's the offender, katsuki is long gone, off on the field, carrying your daughter out on his shoulders while LOUDLY commending her for "squashing those nerds".

[zipsunz]

universally loved 💐

here's a version with all of the senders labelled!

[hyunpic]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HYUNJIN 🖤

[frownyalfred]

Bruce has the “dad voice” and it’s a shock to every resident of the Manor when he uses it

[gunsatthaphan]

"[...] the most worrying thing about internships is what kind of people you'll meet..."

The Trainee - coming June 30th

[myokk]

💘

[nico-di-genova]

Alex legitimately took Pato on a victory celebration ice cream date 😃.

[bodega-catto]

If you die,

I die.

But if I die,

eat properly,

get enough sleep.

Meet new people.

Live a happy life.

And when you think of me occasionally,

Remember that I will love you,

for eternity.

Via~ fluffy_floppy_friday (on Tiktok)

[jinikaris]

‎ dominATE hyunlix moments ───‎ ‎♡ ⋆｡˚ 2 // - ✧ Seoul D1 [x]

[caelysiiium]

let’s see, how do I even begin to put this into coherent sentences…

it’s the way tan loves, loudly, proudly, shamelessly, and fang lets it heal the broken pieces inside him; it’s the way he lets himself be enveloped by tan’s protection even if it (outwardly) exasperates him. it’s the way fang reciprocates with his own acts of service, his quiet expressions of gratitude, and tan, who never expects anything in return, understands.

it’s the way fang smiles so freely, eyes twinkling and helplessly besotted to tan’s silly whims, when they’re alone, but also that he’s learning to be vulnerable out in the open, in front of their friends and in front of the world, for tan.

it’s the way tan is so quick to reassure fang of his unwavering feelings — that he’s content to just be in his presence, the confirmation that he will never leave him, his “I like every version of you” because it’s I see you and I know you and I love all that you are and all that you’re not.

it’s the way tan unabashedly worships the ground fang walks on, but fang has his own intimate altar of devotion that reveals itself more and more with each passing episode.

I will forever be in love with how tanfang love each other. they are so, so dear to me.

[iffasart]

@campbenji JWCTcountdown Day 5: fav ship (part 2)

YASAMMYYYYY

I love themmmm!!!

Bonus because i think i'm funny

This was funnier in my head 🥲

[thatonesubwaypenguin]

Day 14 - Hisui

Warden Ingo is flying around Hisui on the back of his Gliscor!

[baeshijima]

mmm thoughts of private executioner!blade, who is high priestess!kafka's bodyguard. well, more like her guard dog, as many fearfully seem to think.

he is aloof and gruff and rough around the edges, his name capturing it perfectly. when in the eyes of the public he either keeps to himself or stands ready by kafka's side, but when out he lurks in the shadows ready and waiting to carry out her death orders.

you, yourself, haven't had very many pleasant encounters with him... if you can even call them that. that being said, you haven't had many pleasant encounters with anyone. notorious for your... less than pleasant disposition, for a lack of better words, you have more people who'd rather see you run through than those you can call a friend.

in a dog-eat-dog world, you had no choice but to protect yourself. that, however, ultimately became your demise.

"oh? so you're the one sent to kill me. can't say i'm all that surprised."

standing before you is the feared executioner. his sword is tucked inside the sheath attached to his hip, that ever-present dark swirl of an aura stifling the air. he doesn't say anything, instead opting to silently stare down at your slumped and worn-out form. you find that his gaze doesn't bother you; rather, it's oddly comforting knowing someone will see you in your last moments.

"i've never asked you for a favour before, so this will be my first and last request for you." in all honesty, you're not sure where this chattiness stems from. considering you're currently in a holding cell under the crime of attempted murder towards kafka (a poisoned wine you were most definitely framed for, though you can't say you were surprised) and are awaiting for your turn to be under the guillotine for your public execution, you probably should be a little desperate towards the private executioner in front of you.

and yet, your mind is nothing if not peaceful.

with a huff, you relay your request, "can you make sure it's quick? painless, preferably, but i'd rather you just get it over and done with."

silence blankets the cold chambers. moisture accumulated along the cobble ceiling drip in a steady rhythm, like a clock ticking away the seconds. it's unnerving, almost, how there is not a single sound other than your impending countdown.

"why?" comes his low mutter, effectively causing a ripple within the stagnant air. you almost think you misheard him, but his following words cease the thought, "why won't you ask me for help?"

had it not been for the abrupt shuffle and clanging against the metal bars, you would have never looked up to see him in your last moments.

his scarred hands gripping the metal until his knuckles turn a ghastly white and blood dripping from his palms is what greets your sight. as your gaze slowly trails up, you almost let loose a laugh of disbelief; who would have thought blade, the infamous guard dog of the high priestess, could make such a desperate expression? one looking as though his whole world crumbled before him, in which he can do nothing but sit and watch.

(you will never know of the anger and desperation which coursed through his veins the moment he heard of your predicament. had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have cared. but you're not anyone else; you're you — unapologetically, wholeheartedly. it didn't take him long to hunt down those behind it, cutting them down without thought and putting an end to their miserable lives. he rushed as soon as he could when kafka gave him the order, no thoughts other than you, you, you, occupying his mind.

you will never know of the anguish which overcame him when he found you in such a state, your once healthy complexion and defiant gaze reduced to nothing but a tiredness which had always sat quietly behind your disposition. he's almost positive the muscle which unwillingly keeps him alive tore at the seams from your request, the acceptance in which you displayed causing his mind to go astray. even as he damn-near begs you to rely on him for help — to run away with him to some place no one knows of you and start anew there — you merely smile, resigned and peaceful.

you will never know of how much blade is willing to put on the line for you, for you never made it to see the complete and utter carnage he wrecked in your name.)

[stbot]

til death do us part: think pink!