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sorrowfulrosebud · 1 year

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Cont of this

*Wails profusely at the idea of reader walking in on Katsuki and baby play fighting in the nursery*

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The thick mahogany door separating your hall to your living room creaked loudly as you pushed it open before kicking off your shoes. You sigh in relief; you adored your friends, but by god could Mina and Denki talk.

“Katsuki? Keiko? I’m home my babies!” You shouted into the silence of your usually noisy home, before realising that Keiko could be down for a nap.

The delicious aromatic smell of Katsuki’s noodles filtered through the air and enticed you to your spotless kitchen. A small note was left on your kitchen island with Katsuki’s neat handwriting.

Hope you had a good time out with the losers, food’s in the fridge and Kei had his bottle. We’re probably upstairs in the nursery

- love, Ki

You smiled at his loving note, before prepping the food and tucking in.

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After the delectable dish of noodles and vegetables, you meandered your way up the stairs to the large nursery you had for Keiko. You crept the white door open slowly, before tears started pricking at your eyes.

Katsuki was laying on the floor with your chunky baby resting on his chest with a tiny Dynamight costume on. Katsuki was making Keiko punch his face, revelling in his laughter.

“What the hell?! Why is this hero so damn strong?!” He pretended to be scared as he gently manoeuvred Keiko’s tiny fists to make contact with his cheeks. Keiko was giggling away, drooly mouth flashing his proud daddy his singular tooth. Katsuki let out little “pew pew” and “whoopash” noises at every point of contact.

“No more Mr Hero! I’m too weak, don’t punch me again!” He faked groans of pain as he repeatedly made Keiko punch his cheeks, before delivering the final blow.

Katsuki slumped his head to the side as he made convincing sounds of death.

“Blehhhhggg,” he moaned as he died. Keiko laughed loudly as he tried to plunge for his daddy. Katsuki let out his own laugh as he snuggled his baby closer to him.

“This certainly looks like naptime,” you laughed out loud as Katsuki jumped.

“Uhhh. He woke up?” He offered, embarrassed you saw him admit defeat for his son. You shook your head playfully as you approached your two heroes.

You picked Keiko up as he cooed in your arms.

“You did a wonderful job of beating your daddy up, Keiko,” you nuzzled your face into his slightly pink cheeks, earning a babble.

Katsuki smiled widely at his family before groaning at the way his legs had gone numb from the assault from his son. He joined your hug, swaying the three of you softly together. Katsuki pressed small kisses to each of you as Keiko burbled away. You nuzzled your face into Katsuki’s neck, smiling when you feel him smile back.

“I missed you both today,” you murmured. Katsuki continued to smile.

“We missed you too, didn’t we little guy?” He nudged Keiko, who yawned sleepily in response. He rubbed his eyes before nestling into you, breaths slowly deepening as you gave him a gentle goodnight kiss.

“Time for a real nap now, isn’t it sweetheart?” You murmured, giving your husband a pointed look, who only let out a breathy laugh.

“Ain’t my fault he’s a damn good hero.”

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader fluff #bakugou #domestic bakugou #just him. with his family. ISJRJRNNGNF #*spongebob voice* the gang’s all here. AUGH #Him being so soft and gentle with his baby boy I’m salivating

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caelanglang · 1 year

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Shhhh…. They’re busy recharging and being in love

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the-gay-cousin-666 · 2 months

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Once Neil and Andrew start living together, Andrew starts leaving the books he reads laying about the flat. On the coffee table, sofa, kitchen counter, just sort of wherever. After Neil notices this pattern, he will pick it up and start reading from the beginning. If it interests him enough, he'll find a piece of paper and bookmark it.

Andrew doesn't notice at first, but he can see his books are moving around and odd receipts and scraps are falling out of the pages. Eventually he catches Neil in bed, engrossed in his latest pick, and quietly slips in to peak at what part Neil is currently at, maybe even comments on what he thought about it.

It becomes a common practice for them overtime, maybe they even take turns picking books, and whoever is ahead leaves little notes for when the other catches up.

Maybe, when they're both in the mood, they take turns reading aloud and discuss the plot over dinner.

#aftg #neil josten #all for the game #andrew minyard #the foxhole court #andreil #domestic andriel #aftg memes #the kings men #all for the gay #the raven king #post canon #aftg hc #domestic fluff

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finntheehumaneater · 2 months

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“I think we should get a dog,” Steve whispered from where he was curled up around Eddie’s arm, his cheek pressed to Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie lifted his head up from the couch cushion to look at him, turning to rest his head on top of Steve’s.

“We already have a cat,” Eddie whispered back, motioning to the black blob dangling off the edge of the coffee table, trying to swat at Wayne’s socked feet as the man slept in the armchair.

“Yeah, but—“ Steve trailed off, going quiet. He really didn’t want to argue over this, but Eddie nudged his nose against the side of Steve’s head and hummed.

“but…?”

“But I’ve always wanted a dog,” Steve continued, turning to press his face into Eddie’s shoulder—to hide his flushed cheeks. This was all kind of embarrassing. They had Ozzy. He should be happy with what he has now, right? “My parents always said I couldn’t get one because they were too much work.”

“Dogs are a lot of work, and I’m not fully opposed to getting one, baby,” Eddie whispered, slipping his fingers against Steve’s hand to intertwine them. “But, I would be the one to take care of it all the time since you work. Maybe once we’re retired or whatever.”

“That’s so far away,” Steve sighed, leaning his head back against Eddie’s shoulder to look up at him, and Eddie scoffed, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek.

“Maybe once I can walk properly, then?”

Steve nodded, curling up further against Eddie’s side, his eyes closed. “You can walk, though.”

“Not all the time, though, my legs get all stiff and weird.

Steve shrugged.

“Maybe a rat,” Eddie hummed to himself, his free hand trailing up and down Steve’s side.

Steve sat up, his head knocking against the underside of Eddie’s jaw. “Excuse me?”

“A rat,” Eddie said slowly, widening his eyes mockingly and poking Steve in the thigh. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what a rat is. God, you’re so fucking—“

“I know what a rat is, asshole,” Steve hissed back quietly, glaring at him. “But why would we get one?”

“They’re cute—?“

“Ozzy tried to eat Nancy’s baby once. Her living. Human. Baby,” Steve explained quietly, matching Eddie’s mocking tone. “If we get a rat he’ll eat it.”

“We just won’t let him near it then?” Eddie suggested.

“He’ll find a way to get near it, trust me. I locked Ozzy in the bathroom and I still came back and found him eating Megan’s hair. He’s a menace.”

“He’s adorable,” Eddie murmured, practically pushing Steve off of his lap with his elbow accidentally as he leaned forward to grab Ozzy from the table. Ozzy hissed in protest, grabbing onto Eddie’s arm and biting. Eddie gasped and held him out at arms length, letting his little feet dangle in the air. “That was rude, babe, don’t bite.”

“Hypocrite,” Steve whispered, rolling his eyes from where he was sprawled out against the couch now, his feet propped up against Eddie’s thighs. “How about we table this conversation for now and you go get some work done, hm?”

Eddie frowned, looking Steve over and cradling Ozzy to his chest, who bit his hand. “I already did my writing for today, thank you very much.”

“You told me to bother you until you wrote five thousand words,” Steve pointed out. “And you told me this afternoon you wrote four thousand. So, you still have one thousand to write, if I’m correct.”

Eddie dropped Ozzy and pushed Steve’s feet off of him, making Steve grapple to get a grip on the arm of the couch so he didn’t slide to the floor. “Wow, Steven, you’re so smart. Why didn’t you become a math teacher instead of a history teacher?”

Steve stuck his tongue out at him, pulling himself up onto the couch properly and kicking lightly at Eddie’s leg. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck me yourself,” Eddie shot back, catching Steve’s foot and pushing it back towards him.

Steve was glad that Wayne chose that moment to get out of his chair, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and muttering something like ‘get a room’ before walking over to his bedroom and closing the door, because he really didn’t have the energy in him to fight back right now. He was tired. “Go. Write.”

Eddie huffed and lightly babbed Ozzy towards the table with his foot. Ozzy trotted off, laying across Eddie’s laptop. “Oh, fuck you, babe, I need that.”

“Don’t swear at the cat,” Steve called after him, settling back onto the couch comfortably and closing his eyes. At least he would get half an hour or so of peace before he and Eddie had to make dinner.

——

Domestic steddie au MasterList

#All of my asks got deleted I had things for this I needed to do 😭#Helpppp 😭#Finn writes #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #Wayne Munson #steddie #stranger things #steddie fic #steve x eddie #My fic #my writing #Finn’s domestic Steddie AU #Finn’s DSAU #My DSAU #Steddie fluff #domestic steddie

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dumplingsjinson · 1 year

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List of fluff prompts

1. “I gave you one hundred and one reasons to walk away, yet you never did. Why?” “Because I love you. It’s really that simple.”

2. “Remember when we first met here?” “Yeah, of course. That was the day when you spilled coffee on me and apologised profusely but all I could think about was how gorgeous you are and how great it would have been to get your number.”

3. “It’s always been you, and it will always be you. Please never forget that.”

4. “You make me feel all soft and mushy inside.” “That is a good thing, right?” “Of course! You melt me, love.”

5. “You’re an idiot.” “Well, at least I’m your idiot, right?”

6. “You’re the reason why I believe in love, you know?”

7. “Stop back-hugging me while I’m trying to cook! You’re distracting me,” Character A whines, cheeks becoming a delicate shade of rosy pink as Character B nuzzles their neck and mumbles sleepily into their neck, arms only serving to tighten around their waist at their flustered protests.

8. “C’mere and rest next to me. You’ve worked hard enough today.”

9. “You feeling any better?” Character A asks, stroking their fingers through Character B’s hair. “So much better now that you’re here. I love you,” Character B mumbles, snuggling close to them.

10. “You always manage to make me feel like I’m worth it.” “That’s because you are worth it. You’ll always be worth it in my eyes.”

(pt. 2)

#fluff prompts #otp prompts #romantic prompts #romance prompts #writing prompts #dialogue prompts #uwus all around #domestic prompts #prompts #writing scenarios

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phoenixmetaphor · 4 months

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bonus:

#my fanart #resident evil #chreon #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #chris redfield #leon knew what he was signing up for #chris has been embarrassing since claire was a child leon stood no chance #wish i had this idea sooner so i didn’t have to haul ass to get it done before x-mas #but we’re here now #merr chrismas to those that celebrate #and domestic chreon holiday fluff for all

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ghosted-jazz · 2 years

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Oh no- they’re domestic

#MY WEAKNESS!! DOMESTIC FLUFF!#double life smp #impulsesv #bdouble0 #skizzleman #Impulse knew what he was doing playing that soft music when he and bdubs were doing work around the house AND IMMMM NOT READY #Skizz isn't in dlsmp because hes too busy planning all these weddings #Also if Skizz was in dlsmp and he didn't get Impulse as his soulmate im sorry but that'll be a crime. they share hearts all the time already #my art

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vampiresfromxenon · 5 months

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Therapy isn’t enough I need to cuddle up with Astarion and watch The Great British Baking Show and hear him giggle when someone says “soggy bottom”

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion fluff #soft Astarion #astarion ancunin #I love it when he’s so soft #I just want this domestic bliss in my life #it would solve so many of my problems #if not all of them actually

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purposechef · 2 months

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the four elements of good cooking

#sydcarmy #syd x carmy #carmen x sydney #the bear fanart #the bear fx #domesticity #domestic fluff #illustration #my art #artists on tumblr #art #black and white #comic #romcom vibes #salt fat acid heat #mentally preparing for s3 by drawing all the romantic mundane domesticity that will never be allowed on prestige television

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lokischocolatefountain · 11 months

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Sickness and Health

A married!Javi Drabble based on this request

Series Masterlist

Rating: All fluff except for a few inappropriate words

A/N: I had to use this gif because I couldn’t think of anything for sick Javi. Just imagine he’s wiping his snot instead of his sweat (you’re welcome for the new mental association I’ve created)🤪. I got this request a month ago and I’m writing it only now 🙈 Sorry anon requester, but I hope you see this and like it 💜

I’ll be fine, he said. It’s just allergies, he said. My god querida, stop mothering me, he said. Yet here he was, flopped on the sofa with a leg on the floor as he snored. The man never came home before her. There were times when he’d come home briefly in the morning to shower and put on a fresh set of clothes before bolting out the door with nothing to spare her other than a rushed kiss. And now here he was at 5 PM, sleeping.

She placed a hand on his forehead, wincing when she found him burning up. Not to say she told him so, but she told him so. But he would hear none of it. The man dropped her off at work with the promise that he’d take an Advil if he needed before driving away to the embassy. He probably forgot. Or his promise was made just to placate her, stop her from being the nagging wife.

She didn’t quite know how to do it, the wife thing. Was she supposed to force a pill down his throat? Would she be the annoying nagging wife men talked shit about to their friends if she did? Was she supposed to leave him be? Would she be a bad wife for neglecting him and letting him go to work ill?

Knowing the man, he probably didn’t have anything to eat. His only intake was whiskey and tobacco from all the smoking he did. Was she supposed to pack him lunch? Send food to the embassy? She didn’t know. He never asked for anything and was happy to eat what she gave him when he came home. She provided dinner, leaving it on the table and leaving a note on his bed reminding him to eat it. Sometimes she managed to force a glass of OJ into his hand in the morning. But that was all. Lunch was a big question mark. What he ate when in Medellin was a blind spot.

Retrieving some chicken, carrot, celery and broth from the refrigerator, she got to work. With some time, spices and low music playing on the radio, the soup was ready to be served.

She poured some into a bowl, placed it on the coffee table and hovered over him. Beads of sweat had collected on his forehead, either from the hot weather or his sickness. Messy black hair stuck to his forehead and she reached over and pushed it back.

“Javi…”

Nothing. She placed a hand on his shoulder and shook gently. “Javi?” He stayed still as a rock. Goddamn. The man usually woke up at the slightest noise. A bullet could leave a gun two miles away and he would hear it. It was rare that he slept at all, so when he did, she did everything in her power to keep his surroundings quiet.

“Mi amor…” she called, caressing his sweat soaked forehead. “Come on, get up. You need to eat something.”

He trembled under her touch and whined something incomprehensible. She tried again, called his name while giving gentle rubs to his shoulders. “…hurts.”

“I know, baby. I know,” she said, smiling at his half-awake form. He looked so sweet like this, so innocent and childlike. She wanted to pick him up like he was a puppy and give him a million kisses. He might be a big bad federal agent but sleeping on their couch like this, he was her little puppy.

“… ‘s the paperwork and…Wysession…la Quica…umm and yeah what do I think?” He mumbled, making her laugh. This fucker would not survive without his job. It took a few more tries and sweet words, some of which embarrassing enough that she’d never repeat to him if he were awake. His eyes opened a little, his mumbling about work dimmed down and he spoke her name.

“Yeah. It’s me. Get up. I made soup. You should have some, have a Tylenol and sleep on the bed. Okay?”

“What time is it?” He asked, sitting up suddenly.

“Six thirty three.” The man always wanted the exact time. No rounding up or down. It was unnerving.

He buried his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes with the flat of his palms. “Fuck. Got an early meeting at eight with Noonan. Gonna be late. She’ll kill me,” he said, getting up. He hunched over the couch, hand gripping on to the leather of the headrest for support as his other hand clutches his head.

“8 PM is not an early meeting. Unless you’re talking about a meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow? Wait, what’s the time?”

“Six thirty. In the evening. You have a bad fever and you were asleep on the couch when I got home at five.”

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

“Yeah. Fuck. Now sit down and have some soup. You can’t have Tylenol on an empty stomach.”

“Actually, I can. The body absorbs it faster on an empty stomach.”

“Alright buddy, sit down and have the soup,” she said, coaxing him to sit next to her on the couch. He sat a bit too close to her, leaning on her shoulder and placing his weight on her.

“Feel like absolute shit,” he said, dipping the spoon into the bowl of hot soup. He blew on it once and then twice before drinking it. “So good.”

“Thank you, baby,” he said, pulling her to his side. She did not want to contract whatever he had and proximity would increase the chances of infection. But she didn’t have the heart to push him away. Even on a normal day, the man liked physical contact with her. It could be anything from a hand on her back when they were out in public to full on cuddling her in bed. He just showed his affection through touch. She didn’t want to deny him affection when he was so vulnerable and soft.

He drank it down quietly, wincing every now and then from his headache. He even surprised her by asking for a second helping and she gave it to him gladly, even topping his bowl up another time when he wasn’t looking.

“Now Tylenol.”

“Nooo,” he whined, flopping back on the backrest of the couch. “Hate pills.”

She laughed and popped a pill out of the foil wrapper before handing a glass of water to him. “Aww, is the big baby afraid of pills?”

“Not scared,” he pouted and folded his arms over his chest, looking like a petulant three year old. Good god. Was this really the man being paid by the US government to catch Escobar? Or was he the secret sweet cuddly twin to her grumpy sassy Javi?

“Right. Definitely not scared. Now have it.”

“I’ll be fine without it. Just need to sleep.”

“Sure, Dr. Peña. If you say so,” she teased. She was definitely noting down all the details of his behavior in her head to tease him with later. “Can you have the liquid Tylenol?” She asked, recalling seeing a bottle of it in their medicine cabinet.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” she said, getting up to go fetch the Tylenol for him. Before she could step away, his hand wrapped around her wrist. She looked back at him to find him staring at her with those big brown eyes, all wide and precious. He was still grumpy, but less intimidating and more adorable. “I need to take my hand with me, Agente…”

“No.”

“No?”

“Don’t go. I miss you.”

“It’ll just be gone for a minute. I’ll get you your Tylenol and be right back.” Huffing, he finally let go of her hand. When she returned, he smiled up at her lazily before grabbing both her wrists.

“Javi…I can’t give you your medicine if you don’t let go of my hand.”

“Exactly.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of this too. There is no plan C, Javier. Pill or this,” she said, holding up the bottle of the liquid acetaminophen.

“That tastes like shit.”

“Yeah. You’ll survive.”

“I wooooon’t,” he whined, pulling her onto his lap. He may be very sick, but he was still strong and worse, unaware of how much force he exerted. She fell with her face forward, smushing into his chest. She made a low sound of satisfaction before wrapping his arms around her and settling his chin on her head.

“Bebito…”

“‘m not your bebito. I’m your husband.”

“Yeah yeah. Then stop acting like a bebito, bebito.”

“Don’t do this to me. That thing tastes vile. Tastes like shit. Like, like horse shit mixed in with rat poison.”

“God, you drama queen,” she teased, adjusting herself on his lap to sit up properly. “It’s just 20 ml. Have some of it, drink some water to wash the taste off and go to bed. God knows you need the rest.”

“Fine. On one condition.”

“Uh huh?”

“Bit of whiskey after the medicine.”

Absolutely not.

“Of course, baby. All the whiskey you want,” she lied through her sweet smile. She did not have the energy to argue with a gigantic baby she couldn’t yell at. She’d make him have the medicine first and figure out the rest when she had to.

At the mention of whiskey, he smiled wider than the day they got married and happily let go of her wrists. She hissed at the dull pain around them, flushing when she realized just how strong he was. Yet he never used such strength on her, handling her gentler than this even when she asked for rough treatment. She’d have to ask for more the next time… she looked away from him embarrassed. The man was sick and delirious, for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t the most appropriate time to be horny.

“Tilt your head back,” she ordered and he followed immediately, exposing his neck to her. “Now open your mouth,” she said, bringing the little cup of the liquid to his lips. It went alright for the first second, but when it touched his tastebuds, he gagged and groaned.

“Uhh that was fucking disgusting!”

“That was just 10 ml. You need another 10 for the full dosage.”

“No, no, no. Please don’t do this,” he begged before sticking his tongue out as though casting out the organ for making him experience the medicine’s taste.

“Please, Javier… Just one more, okay?” She said, pouring him the other half of the dose. “Imagine you’re taking a tequila shot.”

“Then it should be on your bellybutton with salt on your tits and a lemon wedge between your lips.”

Horndog

“Suuure. You couldn’t tell it was evening and not morning just half an hour back but you think you can do a body shot, huh?”

“Absolutely can. You didn’t know me in college. Plus I’ll do anything to lick your tits,” he said, his eyes looking too adorable for the things he said. Shouldn’t he be too sick to be horny?

“Alright big guy, open up” she said, tipping his chin back and forcing the rest of his medicine down his throat. He groaned and whined once more and summoned a couple demons with the sounds he produced.

“Tequila?” He asked, pouting as he fixed his puppy dog eyes on her.

“Sure. Go sit on the bed and I’ll bring you the goods,” she said, helping him get off the couch.

“Perfect. You’re the best wife, you know that?”

“I’m your only wife. You don’t have much else to compare me to, do you?”

“Fine, I’ll get more wives. Test the hypo- hypo…tenuse?” He asked, squinting.

“Hypothesis.”

“That’s what I said.”

“You said hypotenuse. That’s the longest side of a right angled triangle.”

“The fuck,” he said under his breath, allowing her to lead him to their bedroom. When she’d gotten him to lie down, he pulled her to himself and held her to his chest. She was yet to have dinner and there was a tv program she’d wanted to watch before bed. But with his arms around her and his lips mumbling in his sleep, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.

It wasn’t often that she got to be wrapped up in his arms at this early hour. Why fight it when she could savor it.

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by-saiyuri · 2 months

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quick doodle before bed

oranges!!

#genshin impact #zhongli #tartaglia #tartali #domestic fluff my beloved #I need to better manage time on my days off #I can't finish any proper drawings hhhuehuehue #also I found out that my tartaglia tag was misspelled all this time

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hitlikehammers · 2 months

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safe under you

rating: t ♥️ cw: criminal-levels of softness ♥️ tags: established relationship, rockstar husbands, writing vows, soul-deep love, slice of life, softness

for @steddielovemonth day nineteen: Love is the comfort of quiet moments (@tboygareth)

the rockstar husbands are back on their soft-sleepy-romantic bullshit idk ♥️ maybe I'll get around to writing the ACTUAL VOWS next time

“You’re so quiet.”

Which meant Eddie should have heard his husband approaching but: as it stands he really, really didn’t, and he jumps hard when Steve whispers from behind his shoulder over the back of the couch.

Steve laughs at the glare Eddie shoots him—a half-hearted one at best but there—as he reaches to start rubbing at the crook of his neck, up and down on either side and the glaring goes away instantly because: Steve Harrington?

Has magical hands.

“Whatcha doing?” he murmurs close to Eddie’s ear and Eddie hums a little as he gathers himself from going immediately-boneless under Steve’s touch, the kneading of his palm against Eddie’s strained muscles because he’s been down here…not too long, he doesn’t think. They’d gone to bed together at normal time, and he’d fallen asleep, too; he’d just been restless when he woke up, and knew it was the kind of thing he wouldn’t get more rest out of unless he did something about it, so he’d kissed Steve’s head and rolled out of bed, regretful for it but hopeful, too, that if he gave in to the nagging at the back of his head, he’d quiet it enough to be able to slip back in next to his beloved, and lean against the mattress just so, so that Steve’s arms could curl around him as they always did: soft and sweet and waiting to hold him.

Eddie just hasn’t…managed to get there, yet.

“Writing,” Eddie sighs, and then whines a little as Steve’s hands leave their place on his shoulders, and he turns to look because where’s Steve going, Steve shouldn’t go anywhere, Steve should stay right—

Here.

And look at that: Steve’s plopping himself down on the sofa next to Eddie, a little too far but then he’s scooting further, and Eddie opens his mouth to protest but then Steve’s dropping down, draping his body over Eddie’s lap and laying against him, looking up at him with still-half-sleepy eyes and just…

He’s just so fucking beautiful, y’know?

“You’re never quiet when you’re writing,” Steve says, head tilted up, eyes closed as he leans back against the armrest where Eddie’s got his notebook, his face so soft. His mouth so soft—

“Campaign, you mumble to yourself,” Steve continues on, his voice syrupy, still only half-committed to waking; “lyrics, you hum if you don’t have a guitar,” and then he reaches down toward Eddie’s knee and taps rhythmic there:

“And you drum your fingers,” and Steve smiles as his fingers dance for a few languid moments before he eases his lashes open and meets Eddie’s gaze, because Eddie’s gaze has been on his since he settled in his lap.

Because: duh.

“Looks like it’s hard, too,” Steve sucks his lower lip between his teeth, face still soft but mouth quirked just a little downward, still a little dream-soaked and Eddie love that part, but: never the downturn of that mouth.

“Hmm?” Eddie rumbles low so Steve’ll maybe feel it a little where he’s pressed; the little hazy giggle Steve lets out as he nuzzles into Eddie’s middle just that tiny bit: he felt.

Eddie likes to think he’s never been so in love, but he doesn’t…he doesn’t believe he’s ever not loved Steve with all of his everything.

He’s just wholly convinced that his everything grows with ever moment beside this man, every heartbeat lived together: it stretches him wider, broader every day for the singular purpose of holding the all of his love ever-bigger.

“Whatever you’re working on,” Steve murmurs, just short of sleep-slurred; “you’ve got this,” and he reaches, bats a little around Eddie’s face before he lands between his eyebrows and smooths the skin there which, okay, fine, had been all wrinkled-up.

“Means you’re concentrating too hard,” Steve comments sagely, patting Eddie’s cheek a little blind as he settles wholly back in Eddie’s lap.

“This happens to be very important,” Eddie counters with a tiny flick to Steve’s ear, which is met with a little squeak that warms his insides so delicate, so thorough and full.

“Doubtful,” Steve manages to scoff, like he’s tipping closer to wakefulness but not there yet; “not important enough to make you,” and Steve’s the one flicking now, light at Eddie’s forearm in emphasis:

“Quiet and frowny.”

He’s so…he’s fucking edible he’s so adorable, that’s what he is—Jesus.

“Not frowny,” Eddie lets a little at Steve’s hair, all tousled from the bed; “invested.”

Steve purses his lips and tries—fails, but tries—to peek at the notebook on level with his temple.

“What’s got you so invested, then?” he finally gives up trying to turn and read where Eddie’s hasn’t even bothered trying to hide, not least because there is nothing there, and just asks. And Eddie could dodge it. Steve would respect it if he did.

But he…he doesn’t. Generally speaking he doesn’t hide anything from Steve. Big or small. Their life is a shared thing from top to bottom and Eddie loves that about them so fucking fierce, so. He just sighs and admit it.

“My vows.”

Because that’s what’s been keeping him up, that’s what drove him out of the soft joy of their bed, that’s what amounted to scribbles and cross-outs alone on the page in front of him and it should be this hard, Eddie’s a decent enough lyricist, not to mention most of his songs all this time are for, or inspired by, or just about, generally, all-encompassingly: Steve. It’s always Steve.

Which makes it that much more unbearable that he can’t seem to fucking write his goddamn vows.

Then, though, just then; the most unexpected thing happens. Or starts.

Steve starts shaking against him and there a half-second he’s worried—does it hurt his sweetheart, that he can’t get the words down, does it make him sad, is he cryi—

No.

No: it only takes half-a-second for the anxiety to fade and the sound to register alongside the trembling: Beautiful. Radiant. Still wholly unexpected.

Steve’s laughing.

“That’s silly,” Steve finally tells him, looking up at him with genuine north in his eyes and yes, he’s still a little sleepy-drunk, but the feeling is wholly present and…

Eddie isn’t sure what to do with it—wants to just wrap himself inside it and savor but: his vows…laughable?

Silly?

“What?”

“You’ve already made your vows,” Steve grins up at him, all brightness; “like, three times,” and, okay.

Okay, that’s not exactly wrong, though he could probably try to argue that it was more three proposals’ worth of vows, and are those actually vows, if it’s just a proposal—

“Proposals fucking count,” Steve waves his wrist definitively and…Eddie isn’t sure if he said any of that out loud?

Then: probably wouldn’t make a difference either way. They know each other.

“The first one was legitimately with the twisty-tie from a loaf of Home Pride,” Eddie points out because: because that…that’s probably not as important—

“Mmhmm,” Steve hums, and lifts his left hand: there’s a simple ring on his left hand, pricey for their budget when they’d gathered their family and committed to always in front of them under a temperate Indiana summer’s sky, bonfire and barbecue lively in the background: but that ring wasn’t smooth; it had a long-worn-bare stick of metal wrapped around it and soldered, one that used to be covered in bright paper to stick out against a plastic bread bag:

“I remember well,” and Steve sounds so soft, so blissfully taken in by the memory of that first time Eddie had proposed and, fuck.

Fuck, the butterflies never go away, do they? That effervescent joy stays fresh and vivacious forever.

Thank fuck; he wants no less of this; for them. The love they have deserves no less.

“Still want to melt down the Ring Pop,” Steve says as he plays with his ring; “make it match,” and that’d been the second time: Steve had bought Eddie a ring at a ren faire, and Eddie’d been beside himself to reciprocate, immediately, because Steve deserved no less, and that was how the bum-end of a long-licked Ring Pop came to live eternally on Steve’s keys.

To be eyed for melting into a full-hoop shape for years, now, but Eddie kinda thinks it’s loved and treasured plenty, just as it already is.

“I love you so fucking much,” Steve tells him, apropos of nothing, and that’s…that’s kind of exactly how they work, yeah. They just love.

So fucking much.

Eddie’s pulse kinda skips with it, bounces like pigtails hopscotching along, all unbridled glee. He draws Steve hand to his lips, kisses his knuckles.

“Aren’t you,” Eddie swallows as he lifts his blank notebook and shakes it around a little: “aren’t you stressing over them?”

Because it doesn’t sound like he is, and that’s…sure, they’ve done this before, if not with a license in hand like they will this time. But Steve’s always been more prone to worry over stuff like this. So while Eddie doesn’t want the man he loves to be anxious, he is…kinda wondering, is all.

“Not writing any,” Steve shrugs and lets the motion turn him a little against Eddie’s lap, to look up more straight-on.

“You know I’m not great with words,” Steve tells him simply; “like, planning them out, I’ll fuck it up in the moment and then I’ll just be more flustered.”

And, yeah: okay. That’s a fair point.

Then there’s a hand slipping up his jaw, and crawling his cheek, and turning him down to look at Steve closer:

“Figured I can just look at you, and I’ll,” Steve’s pupils get bigger as he exhales, as he takes in Eddie’s face and beams at him, strokes his cheekbone with his thumb.

“The most important things are always right there,” Steve breathes warm: “so I’ll just say what’s already waiting.”

And shit. The man says he’s bad at words.

“You’re the light of life, Steve Harrington,” Eddie whispers, contorting himself to lean and Steve sees, arches up to press their lips as Eddie mouths against him: “the song in my soul,” and fuck: he means it so many times over he could never count it, could never pin a number to it. It’s too vast.

“See, look at you,” Steve taps his cheek playfully, but so soaked up with love; “you’ve already got all your words, so,” and then he lets his hand slide off Eddie’ face, and he sits up just to grab at Eddie’s legs, swing them up onto the couch and settles himself between them, tugging Eddie from the calves further down until he’s propping himself up by his palms.

“C’mon,” Steve coaxes, and uses his back to ease Eddie down and: oh. Oh, he wants them laid out on the cushions.

And well: Eddie could, would, will only ever oblige, if the question is do you want to lay down with your husband thrice-almost-four-times-over?

Because again: duh. If they were really in the market for silly ideas.

Steve sighs so happily, so airy and bright even as Eddie reaches to flick the light off, and wraps his arms to rest around Steve, sure and close where he holds him to his chest, folds him in where he already nuzzles deeper and:

It’s how safe my heart feels under the weight of your head.

Well, fuck him.

Maybe he does know his vows already.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

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soaring-trash · 7 months

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@antlereed just some stupid sketches but it proves the concept 🤷

Imogen would most definitely spit take

and then laudna would be like “jesus darling are you alright”

#critical role #critical role campaign 3 #bells hells #critters #critical role fanart #laudna #fanart #imogen temult #imodna #imogen x laudna #domestic fluff #imogen is a flustered mess and we all know it #now i just need to make pâté in a shirt that says i love my two moms

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pupkashi · 9 months

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clean linen

satoru’s second favorite scent is your washing detergent

a/n: hi hi ! another piece of reader pampering gojo ?? who would’ve guessed :o can u tell the hidden inventory arc is making me wish i could jump thru the screen give him a big hug ,, anyway inspired from this prompt list, hope u guys enjoy :3

wordcount: 745

masterlist

satoru never has the time to do things for himself, always busy running around. he finds himself surviving off catnaps around campus, usually awoken by an angry yaga or an annoyed megumi. both of which ask him the same question, ‘aren’t you supposed to be teaching?’

it’s not until after the two of you start dating that he finds the joy in having a home. the feeling of peace after you finish sweeping and mopping, the fresh scent of the wall plug in filling his nose that makes him melt into the newly fluffed pillows on the couch.

he finds cleaning days with you cathartic, with each sweep he feels his problems also leaving alongside the dirt and debris. there’s a smile on his face as he unloads the dishwasher, a mix of the loud music on the speakers echoing in his ears alongside your singing. he feels like just satoru, and for a moment as you both sigh happily at the clean state of your home, he feels like it’s only you and him in the world.

so when he comes from a particularly exhausting mission, and hears your singing coming from inside, there’s a small smile on his face.

“honey I’m hooome!” he sing songs, grinning widely when your eyes land on him with sparkling eyes.

“toru!” you call out, wasting no time in wrapping your arms around him, kissing his face and then finally his lips, “how was the mission?” you ask, offering him some of the dinner you’d made a while ago.

“exhausting” he mumbles, flopping onto the couch as you heat up his food. he’s about to drift to sleep when he hears you saying his foods ready, getting up reluctantly before he scarfs his food down.

by the time he’s showered and changed into some shorts he’s ready to sleep, already slipping under the covers. you’re fixing a couple things around the bedroom, things you’d moved when you dusted earlier.

satoru’s nose is flooded by the scent of your laundry detergent, a scent he’s grown to love and feel comforted by.

“d’you just wash these sheets?” he mumbles, face half smushed into the pillow he was laying on. you nod with a smile, speaking up in case his eyes were closed, “i did.”

“they smell nice, and they’re still warm” you could hear the smile in his words, watching as he curled into himself, getting cozier by the second as he nuzzled into the pillow. “you comin’ to bed yet?” his tired words aren’t very loud, but you manage to hear him.

“gonna shower first,” satoru pouts at your response, telling you to hurry so he can finally hold his favorite person in the world.

in your defense you did try to hurry, managing to take the fastest shower in your life and tiptoe back into your bedroom. but satoru was already asleep when you returned.

his chest was falling and rising, the softest snores leaving his lips and hair already sticking every which way. he was hugging a stuffed animal close to his chest, one that he’d won you at an arcade almost a year back.

as quietly as you could, you slipped into bed next to your exhausted lover, gently whispering a ‘goodnight.’ you can’t help but stare at him, a smile on your face as you take in his features.

“you gonna keep staring at me or are you gonna kiss me?” he mumbles, one of his eyes opening slightly, a lopsided smile on his sleepy face.

“shut up and c’mere” you giggle, opening your arms. satoru is quick to ditch the plushy, already wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your neck and breathing in deeply.

“missed you,” his voice is soft and you find yourself melting at the two words. your hand is running through his hair and you kiss his forehead softly.

“missed you too, angel boy” you reply, voice just as filled with affection as his. "now go to sleep, you look exhausted" you smile, brushing his hair away from his face once more before you kiss his nose.

satoru tries to fight back, but all he can muster is a small "nu uh" before his eyelids are too heavy to keep open, and your touch is too relaxing to resist.

the comfort of your warmth and the smell of the freshly washed sheets is enough to make his heart tighten in the best way possible.

he feels at home.

taglist (send an ask to be added!) : @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @luna0713hunter @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags

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