#quick fluff

[natalievoncatte]

“What if we don’t go back yet?”

It was a peculiar question that Lena asked, but a compelling one. She was currently lying with Kara, or rather *on* Kara, after the Kryptonian caught her once again. Kara had slipped under as she fell and cushioned the fall with her invulnerable body, and they currently lay in the wreckage of a sailboat along the docks, the ruined and smashed vessel bobbing gently in the ocean.

“What do you mean?”

“Alex and the crew can get the guy,” said Lena.

She was referring to the second-rate wannabe villain that had tossed Lena off the roof as a ploy to distract Supergirl and cover his escape. It had worked, of course, with Kara abandoning her manhunt to catch Lena. As she always did. That was apparently why he kidnapped her in the first place instead of, who knows, maybe robbing banks in a town without a superhero.

It didn’t seem to matter much now. Kara was warm and had wrapped them both up in her cape, and Lena’s head lay pillowed on her shoulder. Kara curled around her, breathing gently into the crown of her head.

“Why wouldn’t we go back?”

“I’m tired,” Lena murmured, giving the words more truth than she meant to. She was tired, so tired. She could sleep for a thousand years here, lying with Kara.

This always went the same way. Kara would bear her to safety like a knight in shining armor and set her down and then she’d step back.

The contact would end.

It’s not like they never touched- they hugged and kissed each other on the cheek even, and Lena secretly treasured that, but it wasn’t enough. It was different when Kara rescued her.

If physical touch was Kara’s love language, the way she held Lena after a rescue was a kind of Freudian slip. These embraces were more, just more in a profound, indescribable way.

She was always so tender, after. She would sweep the hair from Lena’s eyes and just touch her for the sake of it, running the pad of her thumb along Lena’s jawline or hugging her extra tight, extra close, fearful and yet utterly fearless.

Much as she was holding Lena now.

“I know,” Kara whispered.

She did know. If there was anyone truly in tune with her needs, it was Kara. Kara cared, so fully, so deeply, so recklessly that Lena could barely understand it, and scarcely believe it.

“I want to stay here with you.”

Kara tensed slightly, throat bobbing as she swallows and her breath caught.

“What I want more than anything is just time to be us,” Lena said, very softly. “You and me. No company, no DEO, no adventures, no crises. I could just lay with you here forever.”

Kara was quiet, gently working her fingers through Lena’s hair.

“I’ve thought about things like that.”

“What sort of things?”

She was quiet for too long a beat, then said, “just us being us, alone. No game night, no movie night, no brunch, no Noonan’s, just this. Just you and me and… and relaxing.”

“Cuddling, you mean.”

Kara shifted herself, gave Lena a little squeeze.

“I don’t want to go either. I don’t want to let go of you.”

Lena opened her eyes and looked at Kara, at her golden hair fanned out around her head and her questioning blue eyes.

“So don’t.”

Gently, carefully, Lena freed an arm and rested a palm against Kara’s cheek. Her skin was always so warm, so lusciously soft. Kara was watching her intently, eyes searching.

“I think it’s customary, after the brave her saves the girl, that the hero gets a kiss.”

Kara tensed, clearly nervous. It was the most adorable thing Lena had ever seen.

She kissed her.

Kara was stone still at first, barely responding, then something seemed to awaken in her and she kissed Lena back, intensely. Lena was a little shocked at the sudden way Kara almost seemed to lunge into her, how her hands suddenly moved and she took Lena by the hips.

It was amazing. Her heart fluttered and her head was swinging and she felt a cold shock-

“Kara! The boat is sinking!”

With the most annoyed sigh, Kara stood and lifted Lena into a bridal carry. Water was gurgling up around them.

“Alex is going to kill me,” said Kara.

“Alex can wait,” said Lena. “Take me home.”

[magumachan]

Took a week off(and I get back tomorrow) from all the sketching and lining just so I can get some sleep.

Apparently getting to draw in your work still burns you out... esp if they are so demanding every second of every day including sundays (idunno abt other webcomic prod houses tho) xDDD

And just this morning? or the mornight before my friend chatted me and asked if I wanted to do random collab art (I may have mentioned to him I missed drawing gay stuff and just for myself hahaha) then he mentioned "Why not draw a Fallout GL or smthg?" then it escalated into Super Mutants doing some fluffy, wholesome, or adorable interactions.

in short... my friend decided to shock my burnout away by giving me a new ship to play with... BEHOLD our 1-day old OCs xDDD

P.S. (First (2)images are my friend's art)

[theorphicangel]

cat kuna who sits in your suitcase when you're packing for a trip. he's stubborn and he won't move.

he's not...sad. just a little distraught that you're leaving and you didn't tell him in advance. (you did tell him but he was too busy scoffing down that tuna fish to listen to you)

your eyes meet his little red ones and by the rapid movements of his tail you can tell that he's getting a little agitated. your maine coon takes half of your suitcase space and every time you try and place your clothes down he either hisses or attempts to swat at you.

'i'm just leaving for a day or two kuna. nothing more, nothing less.'

'meow.'

'don't give me that attitude, someone will be looking after you.'

silence hits the room. sukuna's tail stops.

'yes, it's gojo. our neighbour who pays for your vet check ups and your monthly food bill from that expensive, luxury cat food company, be grateful.'

grateful? grateful his ass. he'd rather eat nothing but dry corn than eat another dish paid by your neighbour who always loves to come over for a quick chat. and best believe sukuna has given him all the scratches and bites in the world but that white haired freak keeps coming back.

like fleas.

'kuna if you're going to act this way I might as well not even go. you're being a pain in the ass and you know it....'

he gives no response, deciding to lick at his paw whilst remaining in your suitcase.

'but I guess that's what you want huh.'

[nipuni]

Ten visiting River in the Library hard drive 😊

[bjlipss]

you’re swaying slightly in the doorway when nanami opens it, your coat half off your shoulders and your cheeks flushed a little too brightly.

“there you are,” he says gently, stepping forward to catch you just as you start to wobble toward him. “i was about to come get you.”

you blink up at him, eyes wide and a little dazed. then, suddenly, you grin.

“whoa,” you breathe, pressing your hand to his chest. “you’re… wow. you’re really handsome.”

nanami raises an eyebrow. “you’re drunk.”

“yeah,” you admit, nodding sagely. “drunk and lucky, apparently. do you—” you squint at him like you’re trying to see him better. “do you have a girlfriend?”

he lets out a quiet breath, something almost like a laugh, and takes off your coat. “no. i have a wife.”

your eyes go comically wide. “you’re married?”

“yes,” he says, amused now, “to you.”

you stare up at him, stunned—and then your face just lights up.

“really? i married you? holy shit. i did so good.”

you throw your arms around his neck without warning, nearly knocking both of you off balance, but he catches you easily, holding you close as you giggle into his shoulder.

“you’re so warm,” you mumble. “and strong. and you smell nice.”

he hums, steadying you with one arm while slipping his shoes off with the other. “come on, sweetheart. let’s get you to bed.”

“bed with my husband,” you say dreamily as he scoops you up. “i have the best husband. i think i’m in love with you.”

he carries you down the hall, voice quiet and fond. “good. because i’m very in love with you.”

you’re already falling asleep when he tucks you in, but you still manage to whisper, “i’d marry you again. like. right now.”

and nanami just smiles, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“i’d say yes.” he whispers back.

[seumyo]

will bakugou choose seoul, korea or your wedding anniversary?

Bakugou had turned the damn house upside down three times.

“Where the hell is it?” He hissed under his breath, storming through the hallway closet for the third time in two days. He’d torn apart the shoe rack, the document folders, and even flipped through the cookbooks in the kitchen, just in case he’d used it as a bookmark. No dice. The damn passport was still missing.

His hair was sticking up more than usual—half from stress, half from the static of the hoodie he’d thrown on that morning in frustration. They were supposed to leave for Korea in three days. Three. It was the biggest pro-hero conference he’d ever been invited to—panel talks, interviews, awards. Best Jeanist, Lemillion, and even Halfie had their confirmations sent in already.

And what did he have?

An expired copy of his license (he got a new one; the expired one’s just in his drawer), a half-crushed protein bar, and a very pouty, very pregnant wife in the living room.

You had your feet up on the couch, ankles slightly swollen beneath the oversized hoodie you’d stolen from his wardrobe. You were scrolling on your phone with one hand, the other resting on your baby bump, lazily tracing circles. When Bakugou stomped past, you looked up with the slow blink of a cat.

“Still lost?” you asked, not bothering to hide your amusement. Even laughed under your breath.

The audacity, he thinks, though it wasn’t frustration. He could never be mad at you.

Because he knows you’ll get mad at him, too.

Bakugou didn’t answer. He grunted instead, pulling out another drawer in the cabinet near the TV.

“Maybe it grew legs and walked off,” you teased. “Or maybe your big fat ego swallowed it.”

He shot you a look. “Not helping.”

You hummed. “Not trying to.”

Your pout had gotten more dramatic since hitting six months. Bakugou noticed it more these days, how you’d stare down your food like it personally offended you, or how you’d sigh theatrically every time the topic of even him leaving the house came up. At first, you’d been supportive—even joked that you’d video call him during the conference and heckle him from the screen. But once you found out the biggest day of the event landed on your wedding anniversary, the whole game changed.

Suddenly he feels like he’s on house arrest.

“Maybe it’s a sign,” you murmured, taking a sip of the juice he made you this morning. “Maybe you’re meant to stay home this time.”

Bakugou scoffed. As if.

“Ain’t no damn sign. It’s just misplacin’ shit.”

“You don’t have to go,” you said again. “You could stay. Cuddle me. Eat cake. Listen to me cry about clouds.”

“You said I could go if I find my passport,” he pouts, brows furrowed, and his lips jutted slightly.

“I did, and don’t be mad,” you replied. “I want you to go. Really. You’ve worked so hard.”

“Then why do you look like you wanna punch me in the throat?”

You blinked at him. “Because it’s our anniversary and I’m hormonal. Sue me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So I hope you don’t find it.”

That was the end of that conversation.

-

The night before their anniversary came sooner than expected.

Bakugou had made a reservation at one of the nicest rooftop restaurants in the city. Private booth, soft fairy lights, cityscape twinkling behind them. The host even laid a small bouquet of lavender on the table when he told them it was for a special occasion. He hadn’t told you where you were going, only grunted, “Wear that dress you like—that comfy one. You know the one.”

He hadn’t mentioned anything new about the passport ordeal. You, who figured he’d either given up or accepted fate, were mostly content to enjoy the evening.

You looked like a dream, so his focus was entirely on you. Someone who he somehow managed to have (maybe his bond with his guardian angels came in clutch and even contacted Cupid himself to arrange an arrow for you two).

You waddled into the restaurant, cheeks a little fuller, eyes glowing. He still looked at you like he couldn’t believe he got so lucky. He thinks it makes you shy, how intense his gaze got, even after everything—the morning sickness, the mood swings, the late-night hospital runs due to paranoia.

“You okay?” he asked, placing a hand on your lower back as you walked in.

“Mm,” you hummed, leaning into his touch. You could barely hide your smile at this point. “You’re staring.”

He didn’t even deny it. “I am? So what? Can’t a man just appreciate his wife?”

Dinner went well, for the most part.

You had one hand on your belly, the other wrapped around his fingers on the table. You were halfway through your chocolate mousse when Bakugou reached into his jacket pocket and slid something across the table.

“No,” you said slowly, setting your spoon down. “You didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did.”

He didn’t look smug at all, more like... hopeful.

Your brows furrowed. You reached for the passport, flipping it open.

There it was. His damn passport. Found. Intact. Stamped. His most recent picture was taken only a few months ago.

Yoh stared at it. Then at you. Then back at it again.

“…You found it?”

“Yup.”

“Where was it?”

He cleared his throat, gaze shifting to the side.

“…Behind the dresser in the guest room. Stuffed in that red envelope labeled ‘Important Shit,’ which you labeled in your handwriting, by the way.”

You paused. Your cheeks puffed again as your lips turned downward in the softest pout he’d ever seen. You looked down at your half-eaten dessert, spoon idle.

“You’re really gonna go?”

“I want to,” he admitted. “But I don’t wanna leave you pissed off and lonely, either.”

You didn’t say anything at first. Just poked at your mousse with your spoon. Your lashes were low, and he could tell you were struggling. Not angry, just…sad.

Finally, you said, “It’s just one. It’s just one anniversary. We’ll have dozens more, right?”

“We will. We’ll have centuries more.”

“…And you’ll video call me. Every day.”

“Morning and night.”

“And text me when you land. And when you eat. And when you leave the venue. And—”

Bakugou reached across the table and tugged gently at your hand. His hands are rough against yours, but they’re filled with sincerity and utmost love that a man could give to his wife.

“Hey.”

You looked up.

His voice softened.

“Seriously, d’ya think I’d leave you without a plan?”

You blinked.

“I’m leavin’ you flowers and your cake. I told Kirishima to drop off that spa basket thing you said you wanted last month. And your mom’s stayin’ over the night of. I made sure. I even stocked the fridge.”

Your mouth parted slightly, tilting your head to the side. “You…did all that?”

“Yeah.” He looked almost bashful now, scratching the back of his neck. “Didn’t want you to think I forgot. Even if I ain’t here physically. I’m still here.”

Your eyes shimmered just a bit. A good sign, Bakugou notes.

Then you smiled—soft and tired and affectionate.

“God, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“Tch. Don’t cry. I’ll look like an asshole.”

You laughed then, nose crinkling. “You are an asshole. But a sweet one.”

“Yeah, you love me.”

“I do.”

You two didn’t talk about the passport again that night. Not after that.

Instead, you finished dessert. Slowly. Your hand stayed in his the whole time.

When you walked out of the restaurant, he kept his arm around your shoulders, guiding you carefully down the steps like you were made of glass. You leaned into him, soft and warm, your belly pressing into his side.

And when they got home, you told him, “Let’s open the anniversary cake early.”

He didn’t say no. Not when you looked that happy. It doesn’t matter that he’s already full from the chocolate mousse you two had earlier.

When night finally settled, and Bakugou’s wiping the excess frosting off the corners of your lips with a napkin, he hears you say, “Come home soon, okay?”

He nodded, then softly kissed the crown of your head.

“Always.”

Always come home to you.

-

The morning of Bakugou’s flight started earlier than usual.

He had been up before the alarm even went off, brushing his teeth with the kind of intensity that only came from years of military-grade discipline… or nerves (also because he wants all bad germs on his mouth to die). Not that he’d ever admit to the latter. He stood in front of the mirror, towel slung low on his hips, steam curling from the hot shower as he stared at his reflection.

This was it. The day he was supposed to fly out to Korea.

Except—he wasn’t going.

Not really.

He’d made his decision last night, somewhere between the weight of your hug and the feel of your heartbeat against his body when you fell asleep on his chest. The moment you started snoring softly, your nose slightly buried in his shirt, he realized there was no way in hell he was getting on that plane.

Not this time.

But you didn’t need to know that just yet.

Because if there was one thing Bakugou knew about his wife, it was that you’d throw a fit if he skipped a life-changing professional opportunity just to spend your anniversary folding baby laundry and rubbing your swollen ankles. Plus, he knew you’d never allow him to stay. And if you knew he was lying about leaving, you’d huff and puff until he actually made him go.

So, he planned ahead. Like a goddamn mastermind.

By the time you woke up—slightly groggy with pillow lines on your cheek—he had already “packed.” His suitcase was zipped shut and positioned neatly by the door. His travel duffle bag sat upright next to it. His travel documents were tucked inside an envelope labeled “Do Not Open Unless Emergency.” (Totally blank inside.)

You blinked at him sleepily, rubbing your eyes as you waddled into the living room in his oversized T-shirt. One of the many shirts he was sure was missing from his closet.

“You already packed?” you murmured, voice small and pouty.

He turned from the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. Acting too nonchalant to not give anything away.

“Yeah,” he said. “Didn’t wanna rush.”

You crossed your arms over your bump. “It’s only a three-hour flight, Katsuki. Not an expedition to the Arctic.”

“Still gotta prep,” he said, biting back a grin.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, but the smell of something sweet distracted you. Bingo.

He stepped aside, revealing a neatly arranged dessert box sitting on the counter. Inside: four of your favorites—strawberry shortcake with extra whipped cream, a slice of creamy Basque burnt cheesecake, a generous portion of tiramisu, and your current obsession: mango sticky rice.

“You bought me desserts?” you awed.

“I bought you a stack,” he corrected. “Don’t think I don’t know you get all sad and start craving sugar when I leave.”

You scoffed. “I do not.”

“You do,” he said, crossing his arms smugly. “You pouted so hard last time I left, I came back to find the fridge empty and you passed out with a half-eaten ice cream tub on the couch.”

“That was one time!”

“And I’m not takin’ chances.”

He bent forward, pressed a kiss to your cheek, then to your rounded belly. “Eat well. Don’t lift anything heavy. Text me when you’re sleepy. I’ll land by lunch. Kirishima’s already on the way, but it’ll take a while because of traffic since the bridge is getting repaired.”

“You’re acting suspicious,” you said, frowning as you clung to his shirt. “You never say goodbye this… nicely.”

“That’s rude,” he muttered. “I’m always nice.”

“No, you’re normally grumpy and say something like, ‘Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone.’”

He smirked. You weren’t wrong entirely.

“Well, maybe I don’t wanna come back to find out you’ve cried over an empty dessert box.”

Your lip wobbled, and he kissed you again—softly this time, with an extra squeeze to your waist.

“I’ll be back before you know it. It’s just for two nights.”

-

He left around nine. Or at least, pretended to.

Instead of heading to the airport, he drove straight to his agency, parked in the underground garage, and holed up in his office. There was a bottle of juice in the mini fridge, emergency snacks in the bottom drawer, and an absurd number of congratulatory emails flooding his inbox that he ignored.

The hours ticked by slowly.

He checked his phone a dozen times. No calls. No texts. Just one blurry photo from you of the dessert box with the caption: You’re lucky I’m in a sugar coma right now. Or I’d be mad you left without triple kissing me goodbye.

He snorted.

Around lunchtime, he got restless. Then irritated.

Then, at exactly 1:00 P.M., he got in the car and drove home.

No warning.

No heads-up.

He half-expected you to be lounging in the living room, watching drama reruns and fanning yourself while complaining about heartburn. But when he pulled up the driveway and unlocked the front door—

The house was suspiciously quiet.

His brows pulled together.

“[Name]?” he called out, stepping in.

Nothing.

He frowned and shut the door behind him, stepping out of his boots. He heard a thud from the back hallway. Then a low grunt. A shuffle.

His eyes narrowed.

Then he heard you muttering.

“Come on, come on, I’m not that heavy—”

He rounded the corner—and stopped cold.

There you were.

Standing in the hallway. Sweaty. Red-faced. Holding a large box half your size with both hands, your bump barely giving you enough room to balance it. Your lip was caught between your teeth as you struggled to carry what was definitely one of the boxes he had explicitly labeled: Do Not Touch.

“…What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

You screamed.

You literally screamed—jumping nearly out of your skin, eyes wide like you saw a ghost.

Or a burglar.

Or both, at this point.

“—Katsuki! I thought you were in Korea—what the hell—”

“Put the box down.”

“You can’t just walk in like that, I thought—I—”

“Put it down, [Name].”

You dropped it with a loud thunk, wobbling backward and grabbing your shoulders.

“Oh my god, I thought you were a home invader! I was ready to throw a candle at you—why are you back?!”

Bakugou marched toward you, still wide-eyed with a mixture of rage and pure panic. He can’t believe this at all. “More importantly, why the fuck are you lifting boxes?!”

“I was bored!”

“Bored? So you decided to tear a disc and pop a blood vessel?!”

“I didn’t tear anything! And it wasn’t heavy; it’s mostly baby blankets!”

He crouched down instantly to pick it up—still heavy, despite your excuses—and carried it to the nursery, grumbling the entire way. “Goddamn woman’s gonna give me a stroke,” he muttered, though there was never any heat in his words.

You waddled after him, still stunned.

“Wait. Why are you here?!”

“I never left.”

“You… what?”

“I stayed at the agency. Figured I’d come back after you thought I was gone. Catch you red-handed.”

“You liar!”

He turned toward you, his frustration subsiding.

“You’re not even a good liar! You went full fake goodbye mode this morning! You even left me mango sticky rice!”

“Yeah. ‘Cause I knew you’d snoop around and start being reckless the second you thought no one was watching.”

Your cheeks puffed up again. That damn pout.

“I was just nesting,” you mumbled.

“Nesting doesn’t involve deadlifting half a closet,” he shot back. “You promised you’d take it easy.”

“…I thought you were in Korea.”

“Yeah, well, again, surprise.”

You blinked up at him again, eyes soft now, overwhelmed. “…You really stayed just for me?”

When he sets the boxes down, he exhaled and cupped your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye. “You really thought I’d leave you alone on our anniversary? Pregnant? Carrying boxes? Eating dessert by yourself? What do you take me for? A shitty husband?”

You hit his chest weakly.

“You’re so unfair,” you muttered.

“I know,” he grinned. “And I love you.”

You melted then. Completely.

Wrapping your arms around him, your bump pressing into his stomach, you buried your face in his chest and whispered: “I love you too, you dramatic maniac.”

That night, there was no flight. No press. No conference.

Just takeout on the couch, your feet in his lap, mango sticky rice on your plate, and his hand splayed across your belly like a homecoming gift.

Bakugou may have missed a headline.

But he made the right choice.

And that mattered more.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[dearru]

up tonight thinking abt how kuroo is the best, most devoted bf ever. you never have to lift a finger when that man’s around…omg… | mlist

Boyfriend!Kuroo would rather die than let you pump your own gas. Since he’s always the one driving you around, it’s usually a non-issue, but on the rare occasions when your tank runs low, his eyes brighten almost as much as the “fuel low” signal on your dash does.

Before you can even say a word, he’s reaching for his credit card and heading straight to the gas station to fill your tank up with the premium shit!

“I can fill it up for myself, y’know.” You huff, lips puffed up into a pout as you watch him slide his card into the machine, all from the comfort of the cushiony seat of your car. As much as you appreciate the sweet gesture, you can’t help but feel slightly guilty at how much money and effort he blows on you.

“I’m aware” He hums, removing the gas cap from your vehicle like it’s second nature, “But gas stations are full of germs. Don’t want you getting your pretty hands dirty.”

You snort. “You’re so corny, Tetsu.”

He pokes his head through the window, revealing the widespread grin that’s taken over his boyish face, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You laugh, leaning over to place a quick peck on his cheek before he can gloat further. “But I love you anyway.”

He melts at the feeling of your lips pressed against him. In his mind, kisses from you are worth far more than however much a full tank costs.

“I love you more.”

—a/n: pumped gas tonight and thought of this

[katszumi]

“have you seen the abs on that man?” hagakure sat across of you. “sexy on a stick, i swear!” she giggles. she was going on and on about the guy that starred in the superman movie you girls put on last night. henry cavill was his name.

mina agrees with her statement with a nod. “he’s the hottest white man i’ve ever seen before.”

“sure, he was hot, but are we forgetting the misogynist comments he’s made? sexy is one thing, but being controversial is a whole ‘nother thing.” uraraka inserted her input.

“oh, please. i’d cook and clean for him anyday he asks.” mina retorted. both uraraka and yaoyorozu shake their head in shame.

“speaking of controversial.” uraraka murmurs under her breath, you peer over your shoulder, wondering the intent of her statement.

you notice bakugou making his way over to your desk, his eyes planted on you and you only. you shift uncomfortably. why the hell would he be coming to you? did you do something?

once he makes his way to your desk, you look up at him with a half smile.

“hey, bakugou. what’s up?”

his eyes analyze the other girls before looking back down on you.

“my pencil?”

you flutter your lashes at him. “pencil..?” you repeated in a trance of confusion.

he groans. “the fuckin’ pencil i gave you last week. i need it back.”

now it all clicks. you nod, laughing nervously because of your stupidity. you reach in your backpack and grab the black mechanical pencil that you forgot to lend back to bakugou.

your arm extends to the male in front of you, waiting for him to snatch it back.

“sorry.”

he gently grasped onto the pencil, his hand brushing against your fingers for a small moment.

“it’s whatever. just rather not be the one to find you after i lent you something.” he shoved the pencil in his pants pockets, leaving his hands in there. “that’s one of the last pencils i have.”

you shoot your eyebrows up in defense, quickly lowering them after. your eyes falling down to your desk for comfort.

“well, hope you take care of that one.” it was a half-joke. a lame one, might you add. you were just unsure on what to say. especially since it seemed like bakugou was lingering around your desk. as if he didn’t want to return to his seat just yet.

“so, what’d you score on your test?”

“ah…it wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t horrible.”

“well?” was he really desperate to know that bad? you knew bakugou was smart, so he probably only wanted to know so it could boost his ego.

you rubbed your arm out of shame. “a seventy-nine.” you stared at his face to recognize any humility or laughter, but there was none.

he shrugged. “should’ve asked for my help if you needed it.”

right. you almost forgot that bakugou offered to help you study and go over notes with him for the next test. it was such an out-of-bakugou thing to do that you nearly didn’t take him serious.

you nodded slowly, processing his information.

“i was planning on making it up, so maybe for that.”

“fine.” his short one-worded response was dull. but what else did you really expect? “next time, don’t steal my pencil.” was his last comment before leaving your presence.

you sat in your thoughts, reeling the conversation back in your mind. what the hell just happened? it was the most simple yet confusing conversation you’ve ever had. was bakugou joking with you or was he seriously irritated with the pencil situation?

regardless, you made a mental note that bakugou was very protective over his mechanical pencils.

once bakugou returned to his seat, he unzipped his backpack, secretly opening his pencil box. within the box were a collection of pencils. there were so many pencils that he could give one to all of class 1a and 1b and still have few left.

aside sat denki who was clearly peeking inside of bakugou’s bag.

“damn, bakubro. you saving up pencils for a potential pencil outage or something?” it’s denki. of course, he never used his inside voice.

“i will literally blow you out this fuckin’ window and across the lot.” bakugou turns his head immediately, a faint pink blush spreading across the apples of his cheek.

bakugou just didn’t want you to know that the pencil was obviously an excuse to talk to you.

pt 2 of the study sesh

[umblrspectrum]

happy solvermas

[xinganhao]

🌼 boyfriend!jihoon x reader.

jihoon loves you and you love him. it sounds plain and simple, but the saying rings true: what is done with love is done well. ୨ৎ happy woozi day! ♡

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ lily of the valley by daniel. bad by wave to earth. for lovers who hesitate by jannabi. pretty boy by the neighbourhood. tell me, will we survive? by pryvt, hanuel, hnta. green by 12bh. l-o-v-e by rocco. when it snows by 1415. when you love someone by day6.

240526 #woozi 🌟 if i were to have a small greed, it’s that i will be able to see everyone for a long time. thank you for being with me. thank you for walking with us. you did well today.

[readwritealldayallnight]

It didn’t matter how long or short you were apart, Simon always brought something back for you

After each and every one of his deployments, though all you ever asked for was for him to return to you in one piece, he would find you a small souvenir, a token, a postcard, or some sort of little trinket from whichever corner of the glove he found himself in this time, keeping it near and dear to him until his feet were back on familiar ground and he could put it in your familiar hands

You had told him that it wasn’t necessary, but when he simply blinked and ask you if it made you happy, your reply was an instantaneous ‘yes’, to which he replied ‘then yes, it is necessary’

You loved and treasured all of them, multiple shelves throughout your shared flat adorned with the items that reminded you of the fact that he was always being reminded of you wherever he went

It didn’t take very long for Simon to become enamoured with your reactions each time he presented you with his newest find, wondering if whatever he picked out would make you gasp and cover your mouth, make you roll your eyes and smirk, make you laugh and squeeze his arm, each time was a guessing game that had his heart skipping a beat or two in anticipation

Soon enough, he decided he didn’t really need deployments as an excuse to surprise you, or any reason really, other than to see you smile

And so, trips to the supermarket made by Simon alone more often than not began including cupcakes in your favourite flavour

He’d come back from the mailbox and drop a single flower from someone else’s garden onto the table in front of you

Your nearly finished perfumes and lipsticks would magically find themselves replenished

But being Simon, his gifts didn’t always need to be extravagant

On the rarer occasions when he was only on base for a day, he’d often bring you back something simpler, if not sillier, like a paper clip or a sticky note with a terribly drawn doodle he’d stick to your forehead (god forbid he ever bring home a bullet casing, bragging about how he was thinking about you while he practiced shooting loads today-)

Sometimes he’d bring home a book he saw laying around the common room he thought you might enjoy

Other times he might walk into a room and notice you eyeing the hoodie he’s wearing, pulling it over his head without hesitation and offering it to you before you could even think to ask

Most of the time though, Simon was great at bringing home takeaway for dinner, a favourite sight of yours to behold as he walked through the door of the flat

Empty handed or not, so long as he was home with you , you were happy

[siriuslylantsov]

sock drawer

spencer reid x reader blurb. fluff!

spencer reid keeps a sock drawer for you at his apartment. (during the early stages of your relationship, before you move in)

it's in a dresser in the corner of his room, and above yours is a drawer consisting of his collection.

it's sweet you think, his collection of socks. varied pairs of different colours and patterns. each one meticulously folded beside its match, but never knotted together. it's more sustainable for mismatching, he says, it's also a little anal (and time consuming) but you don't tell him that.

so when he tells you he's set a space aside for you, you were hesitant, not because it was a huge step but because you ran through a rotation of the same 8 pairs of black socks and a few white ones. a whole drawer wasn't necessary, maybe a little hamper.

it's not like you need the drawer for your clothes either. most of the time you're over, you’re in his clothes anyway. and the clothes you do have at his place, stay among his. a secret ploy to get your things smelling like him. he appeases you by sandwiching your clothes between his.

you open the drawer and there's a celebratory first pair, electric blue with bananas scattered all over. you hold it up with a small smile. leaning over, you quickly kiss him on the cheek and sit down to put on the new socks, they're soft and surprisingly smooth on the inside considering its repetitive pattern. leave it to spencer to find reliable socks that aren't a sensory nightmare. 

over the next few months, you also start to accumulate a collection. your black socks are a constant, ones you wear to your horribly boring corporate job, taking up half of the drawer. the other half though, souvenir socks.

spencer was away a lot, halfway across the country or when you’re lucky, right in dc. the first time it happens though, he comes home with a pair of mardi gras themed socks having had a case in louisiana. he spotted them walking by the duty free and thought they were perfect for you–bright purple spotted with green and yellow? you know what, hell yeah!

the next were casino themed ones from vegas, a pair matching the worn ones he wore often. lobster socks from maine, statue of liberty socks from new york, and dorothy and toto socks from kansas.  

when you tell your friends about this, they laugh. but again, you think it's sweet. he brings you something every time he's away, a promise that he’ll come back. it's incredibly reassuring and endearing in its own little way.

[vyyper]

phainon acts like a sad puppy when you're mad at him i think. he knows when he's screwed up, but out of fear of making you even more mad, he takes forever to find the words to apologize. if you're not speaking and you happen to pass by him at any point throughout the day, he looks at you with the most heartbroken eyes. he'll slump in a chair and wonder where he went wrong, how he could ever let this rift form between you two. (it's been 4 hours). asks mydei for advice, much to mydei's dismay.

(mydei tells him to get over himself and to stop being such a moron. how you put up with phainon he doesn't know, and he respects you for your strength.)

he'll come back with a gift, maybe some flowers or a book or a dagger you were admiring earlier that week, and he'll avoid eye contact as he apologizes, embarrassed and anxious. you forgive him and you can see the visible relief on his face. if he has a tail, you swear that it would be wagging. he lights up and now you have to deal with him hovering around you for the next few days, as much as he can. normally he's super...devoted in trying to make you happy, but he'll literally do anything to make sure that you're not mad at him anymore. please don't be mad at him anymore, he'll die of heartbreak. this boy cannot take it. he needs your approval more than air

[wholemeallbread]

ITOSHI RIN pretends that a long distance relationship would kill him.

the chances of him getting into a relationship in the first place is already rare enough, but long distance? on the other side of the earth? he's not sure if he'd be able to do it.

but once he gets into a relationship with you, everything seems to change. sure, at first, it's pretty awkward; he's a dry texter and pretty busy, as well as the difference in time. but even with that, and the thousands of metres of land and sea between you, somehow he falls deeper and deeper in love with you. even with the lack of return in affection, you're so committed, committed to loving him, and he doesn't understand why.

was it continuing to text him even though he couldn't respond so he could see the accumulated messages that document your entire day? was it all of the different heart emojis you would send when he says he misses you back? or maybe it was how his sleep schedule was slowly shifting for the worse with how often he stays awake on the phone with you?

it could be anything, really. his love language has already unknowingly made a dramatic shift, sending you gifts and in game currency for all of the stupid games you play together. he even spent an ungodly amount of money just for a setup.

he wants to use words, but he's afraid of how they'll come out. and things would be a lot easier for him if he just booked a plane ticket and flew over to see you.

[215-luv]

when oikawa first sets his eyes on you, he’s convinced that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever laid his eyes on.

everything about you was magnetic. you’re like a force that’s pulling him towards you—something in which he undoubtly succumbs to.

when oikawa first sets his eyes on you, he was a third year student who failed his last chance at going to nationals. it was a big strain in his volleyball career. it was as if all his hardwork came crashing down all at once.

and yet you came into the picture, and suddenly he couldn’t hear the crashing sounds of his dreams anymore.

strangely, he feels like his dreams were rebuilt once again. it wasn’t for a fact that he continued to pursue the path of his career. but there was an addition to it—as if his dreams were altered. there were more pieces to it.

you. his future. volleyball. and god, you.

it had been over a year since he traveled to brazil for his career. you were left in japan, continuing on with your college life.

it has been over a year until you decided to give him a surprise visit, purchasing a ticket to brazil in secret and contacting his friends who were willing enough to help you with surprising him.

safe to say, he was quite surprised with your arrival. you thought the expression on his face was hilarious, it gave a tingling feeling on your chest—something that only oikawa would make you feel.

but then there was a strange thought lingering at the back of your head. it was strange. because when oikawa smiled, it wasn’t the kind that made his eyes squint. when he laughs, there’s barely any emotion to it. and when you’re talking to him, he’s been avoiding eye contact with you.

most of all, there were times where he would space out. staring at nothing interesting as he disassociates himself from the world.

or from you.

“i’m sorry.”

you stare at him as you feel the nausea creeping through your throat. “what are you talking about?”

oikawa sighs. “i’m talking about our relationship. us. it’s just.. it will lead us nowhere.”

you stand there, eyes finding themselves fixating on the expression on his face. you tremble, feeling numb.

the expression on his face. it makes you tremble.

you’re feeling numb. you don’t know how to feel.

anger? sadness? disappointment?

“i’m sorry.” he sighs, he’s unable to look at you. “i’m sorry.. i.. i’m really sorry..”

it’s quiet. you’re quiet. you simply stand there looking at him not knowing if you are just hearing things or if this is actually reality.

if it is a dream, then is it possible to hear the beating of your heart? to physically feel the pain circulating around your chest, holding back the air from your lungs?

it hurts. you’re telling yourself. it hurts, you don’t want to hear it again.

but then you hear it again. coming from the lips of the man who you thought loved you.

“i’m sorry.” oikawa holds back the tears coming out from his eyes, “please say something. i’m so—“

“stop.” you tell him, the word falls off from your tongue so weakly, as if your voice has been taken away from you.

he looks at you confused. “what?”

“stop saying sorry.” you reply weakly. it was enough for you to realize that both of you are looking at each other dead in the eye, yet one of you has tears forming over theirs.

oikawa toru. why is he about to cry at something he caused? what’s his problem?

“please stop saying sorry.” you tell him.

“i’m sorry.” he replies, “i can’t stop feeling sorry.”

you weakly smile, a contradicting response to the pain he’s inflicting on you. “sorry for what? for yourself?”

“of course not! it’s just, i—“ he takes a deep breath, “i’m so tired. i’m tired. and sorry. i’m tired and i’m sorry. it’s all i’ve been feeling for you, for us. but not for myself. god, why would i even care for myself? how could i? when all this time all i’ve been doing to you is everything a significant other should not do to their partner.”

you stand there silent, speechless, listening to the words spilling out from his lips.

“you’re perfect. like fuck, i don’t even know why did you choose me. t-there’s iwaizumi, who i heard confessed to you in our second year. god, i didn’t know that until he told me how lucky i was after revealing our relationship to the team.” he rambles as a hand comes up to cover his ashamed face. you see him trembling in fear.

“i couldn’t help but compare myself to him. you’re perfect. he’s amazing. and just thinking about it, i realized how good you look together and it frustrates me to think how there could have been better people who could make you happier.”

you are caught off guard. a lot of questions are forming in your mind as you hear him speak. with each word he’s speaking out, you hear his voice weakening.

“toru..” you gently call out to him, finally getting a hold of the reason behind his motive. “is this why you wanted to break up?”

oikawa lets out a sharp exhale, “y-you don’t understand. there are people who can give you the whole world and i could only give you everything i have.”

“toru.” you let out a shaky exhale, “god, toru. what are you even talking about? you’re everything to me! i don’t need the whole damn world for fuck’s sake! i just need you. it’s only you. god, it has always been you. you’re my whole entire world, toru. you—“

before you could even utter out another word. he kisses you, stopping you from rambling. his hand holds the side of your jaw while the other at the nape of your neck.

tears finally crosses through oikawa’s cheeks, then followed by yours.

“i’m sorry, sweetheart.” he tells you as you both separate from the kiss. “i’m sorry. i scared you, didn’t i? i’m sorry.”

you sniffle, letting out a soft chuckle. “you’re an idiot, you know that?”

“i know, baby.” he weakly smiles, thumb caressing your cheek. “i know. i’m sorry.”

“a big ass idiot.” you rephrase, “and yet you’re still perfect to me.”

oikawa toru is the only person who could make you feel this way.

and you are the only person who oikawa would allow himself to crumble infront of.

this is okay. everything will be okay.

[nonranghaes]

"don't let me fall asleep."

felix looks up as you settle in, head resting on his shoulder with your eyes already falling shut. your laptop rests in your lap, secure within your grip to keep from slipping. he can see the remains of your assignment staring back at you. it's late. too late for either of you to be awake, and yet here you both are--with him gaming on the couch, and you snuggled up nearby as you work late into the night. you shift a little as you get comfortable, and then let out a sigh.

"i thought this was due tonight." he rests his head against your own, headphones now draped around his neck. "like... tonight tonight. not two hours ago."

you mumble something he can't make out. he just reaches up, patting your cheek gently before pressing a kiss on top of your head.

"you sure you don't wanna finish it later?"

"can't." your weight sinks against his side, and he knows you're about to drift off. "don't wanna leave it..."

"you've got time." he reaches forward to move your laptop. you let go when you feel him tug at it, just so that he can move it onto the coffee table. "i'll quit if you do."

all at once, you seem to melt into him, body aching for rest. but you snap back to it, shaking your head as you rub at your eyes. "i'm almost done," you say, stifling a yawn. "you can go sleep if you need to--"

he shakes his head, controller back in hand. "then i guess i'll keep playing, too." he leans over, pressing a tiny kiss against the corner of your lips. "we'll ruin our sleep schedule together."

it's silly, but it makes you smile. "thank you, lixie." you stand to stretch, joints popping one by one. "i'll finish soon, i promise."

he knows you will. even if it means the two of you fall asleep right there on the couch together as soon as you're done, he's in this with you until the end.