#okay goodnight love you byeeeeee

[willowser]

okay last thing and i know this is easier said than done and i think it's less of final end point and more of a continuous journey but once you let go of your shame and embarrassment over the things that make you happy, you'll have a lot more fun

[nostalgic-pancakes]

you look bizarre, in the apricot

Summary: Thomas Sanders and Nico Flores VS The Town of Night Vale: An Epistolary from the outside.

Pairings: Pintoverts, Cecilos and Gen friendships otherwise

Read on AO3

Word count: 976

Warnings: Unreality, reality being really weird, sparsely described body horror. I am not as good of a surrealism writer as Min, this is my first foray even remotely into the genre, but I hope to make more stuff like this sometime! Stay Safe

Other notes: For Min! hope you enjoy <3

Tagged: @sometimes-love-is-enough

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Joan: u there yet?

Me (15:03): yes!! Sending a photo real quick

Me: (IMAGE.png)

[Image description: Thomas and Nico, both fairly suntanned, facing the camera with some parts of their faces awkwardly cropped off. However, it’s easy to see that they are both grinning wildly in front of a new house, reminiscent of fifties suburbia behind them, with a small pile of boxes near the door.]

Me (15:94): we’re gonna be unpacking now

Me (15:94): byeeeeee!!

Joan: Wait what’s up with your clock thing?

Me (15:95): dunno looks fine to me

Joan: yea prolly a glitch

Joan: see ya

…

Google Search History:

What foods cause hallucinations? Should you listen to hallucinations? Should you listen to hallucinations of fictional characters you created? Should you listen to hallucinations trying to help you? Why are writing objects banned in night vale Why does internet explorer work better in night vale Internet freaking explorer why Night vale Night vale news What is wrong with night vale What are the secret police

delete history?

...

“And now: Traffic.

Today on traffic, as we can see, the formerly fictitious aspects of a newcomer’s personality, Mr. Thomas Foley Sanders are currently running amok, amongst the many vehicles in today’s commute. However, Thomas is a rare case of someone who has enough internal strife that he feels the need to regularly bring out his aspects. For the rest of us, we either live in blissful, absolute ignorance, or neverending guilt.

Props to Mr. Sanders for trying to find his way through the deceptive caverns of the conscious and subconscious mind, but I would really rather get into our real traffic report, instead of talking about the state of vehicles in the city. This is boooooooring!”

...

Call history:

Joan Sticks (45:15) Tally (28:10) Nico my beloved (10:59) Joan Sticks (10:12) Joan Sticks (1:19:34) Nico my beloved (11:102) Carlos ? (???) Carlos The Scientist Palmer (???) Carlos The Scientist Palmer (???) Cecil Palmer (???) Cecil Palmer (???) Cecil Palmer (???) Nico my beloved (???) Patton (???) Logan (???) Virgil (???) Roman (???) Janus (+Remus) (???)

…

Group Chatroom with: Joan Sticks, Tallycat, Nico my beloved

Nico: @Joan @Tallycat I think something’s wrong with this town

Me: yes why is there a secret police

Me: why

Me: frickin w h y

Me: and the sides? Real

Me: i have pictures!! Evidence!!

Me: [IMAGE.png] [IMAGE2.png]

[Image Description 1: the sides and Thomas in a large cuddle pile. They are toppled together and making obvious contact, with fabric becoming creased under contact points.]

[Image Description 2: The Sides, Nico and Thomas are cooking together. It is going badly.]

…

EXISTENTIAL CRISES! | Sanders Sides

“And for today’s sponsor, we have a minor switch! Today we are sponsored by Big Rico’s Pizza!” says Thomas, a bunch of pixels on hundreds of thousands of screens.

“Now in two more flavors- one with vegan pepperoni and cheese, for anyone to enjoy, and of course, for all our eternal scouts, void. Simply void .Nobody does a slice like Big Rico’s! No one.” Thomas seems surprised at his own nonchalance at what he’s saying, but he gets a thumbs up from a hand just barely in camera view, and continues.

“Anyways- go to the checkout, enter the promo code thomassandersAAAAAAA and order some Big Rico’s Pizza today! Now, on to the episode”

Comments (3,030)

CosmicAce 1991 Why is the last thing on Thomas’s twitter from a month ago and WHY IS THIS VIDEO SIX MONTHS LATE?

Berry-Blast Ngl love the hugging- care to share a process reel? Aren’t Joan and Talyn too far away to work on this anymore? Let's Go Ghost When are we getting a new cartoon therapy?

Patton-Patoff WHERE ARE THE CORNERS?? THIS DOES NOT WORK WITH GREENSCREEN?? HOW DID THEY JUST… DO ANYTHING IN THIS VIDEO??

Minute Where is the checkout? Can’t find it. Also hi nico!

Cecil Jaws Stan All hail the glow cloud

DreadfulZombie19 These existential crises are… uncomfortable to say the least. Thank you for at least adding trigger warnings. Speaking of which, where are the SVS redux epilepsy warnings?

…

Google Search History for: Joan Stokes

Plane tickets to night vale Plane tickets to night vale, usa Which state is night vale in Where is night vale Driving map to night vale What is a delta airlines flight 27 Why is my friend from night vale acting so weird Night vale radio How to get friend out of night vale

…

Sanders Jaws! @ThomasSanders

Video is going to be delayed by about a week- Tuesday got cancelled, you see. No worries! As soon as it’s back, there will be a new Cartoon Therapy!

Replies

Min-Ding-Ding-Ding @arealsword Hope Tuesday’s doing alright

I really like flowers @sodoroses

What is actually going on is Thomas okay what is happening

…

Using Gravity Falls to cope with strange events in life! | Cartoon Therapy

Comments (1,048)

Minerva

Dang wonder what’s been going on.

…

Call transcript: Thomas Sanders, Joan Sticks, Nico my Beloved (xx:xx:xx)

“But here’s the thing- it used to be really scary-”

“Terrifying.”

“Yeah, but now? I guess we just have an all-powerful glow cloud (all hail) on the school board.”

“And we also have a sentient hand as my swimming coach. She’s cool.”

“How- How are you so cool with all this?”

“Stockholm syndrome?”

“I mean, the sides are real people here, so I get to have my crises off camera for once, which is nice.”

“Joan!!!” “Joan!” “Joan <3”

“One sec guys, I’ll give you the phone in a minute!”

“Okayyyyy” “How did Roman pull off pronouncing the heart emoticon?”

“Don’t ask me.”

“Well, if you’re happy…”

“Don’t worry too much about us, buddy. We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah! Carlos and I are going to be at a Slap-Poetry contest against Thomas and Cecil!”

“Mmhm. Well, goodnight then. Love you both.”

“Love you too!”

“Yeah! Love you too, Joan!”

[harryfeatgaga]

I wonder what songs he’ll cover on tour.. god just imagine. Hozier... frank ocean... the possibilities are literally endless.... he’s gonna be so goofy and loving because he hasn’t seen us for so long he’s literally gonna spoil us I wonder what he’s got up his sleeve

HE ALWAYS CHOSES THE MOST ICONIC COVERS

Anonymous said: Someday Harry’s gonna drop a country album on us and I’m not ready for that tbh but I also know it’s becoming inevitable and I’ll buy it anyway lol

DO NOT MANIFEST THAT EJFBHVGRHU I CANT BE A COUNTRY GIRL EKDFBRGUFIOVKL

Anonymous said: Harry seems like someone who thinks and feels A LOT and it makes me cry 😭

STOP I KNOWWWWW

Anonymous said: YEAH LETS GET FILTHY FILTHY REAL QUICK BEFORE PAIGEY GOES TO BED CAUSE THATS WHAT WE ALWAYS DO

BYEEEEEE YALL ARE ALREADY GOING TO FAST FOR ME RN I CANT KEEP UP WITH ALL THE ASKS

Anonymous said: Goodnight pager 📟 🔝🥾

EKDNFBHHURJNFH GOODNIGHT

Anonymous said: Paige please listen to the song I want you around by Snoh Aalegra it gives me late night fall drive with Harry vibes

OOOH OKAY

[skeletaldarling]

Chase The Fire Away Chapter 3

The Witch’s Corner 

AO3

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Summary: Patton gets too lose to seeing something he’s not supposed to see... and Remus and Logan work in the same bookshop! 

Ship: Lomile, mentioned Sleepxiety, mentioned Roceit 

Word Count: 1423

Warnings: Dark sides, Remus “Duke”, mentioned Deceit, swearing, blood, blood drinking, witches, vampires 

Patton giggled at his phone screen. He was sprawled out on his bed, messaging Remus. 

The Duke: Im not saying id fuck any werewolf I met 

The Duke: Im just saying that its definitely rlly hot

Pancake: Werewolves tho?

Pancake: Not something cool, like a witch? 

The Duke: UM RUDE!?!

The Duke: ARE YOU SAYING WEREWOLVES ARENT COOL?

Patton was smiling so much his cheeks were nearly aching. It was so easy with Remus, everything just felt so right and natural when they were talking. 

The Duke: Actually id probably fuck a witch tbh 

The Duke: As long as they had the hat

Pancake: Right, obvs they need the hat to be a witch 

The Duke: Exactly!!

The Duke: Oh shit gtg

The Duke: Ttyl byeeeeee

Pancake: Byeeee

Patton tossed his phone down on the bed and flopped back onto his pillows with a happy sigh. He looked out the window at the tree and couldn’t help but feel like all those flowers hadn’t been there yesterday. Or this morning. Patton squeezed his eyes shut. He was definitely imagining it. He sat up again and jumped to his feet. Maybe Emile was making lunch. 

When Patton got downstairs he could hear his dads in the kitchen. 

“You can keep going, honey. I feel fine.” Emile said. 

Patton could hear someone make a small inhaling sound, liking they’d been holding their breath before the tap started running. 

“Lo?” Emile asked. “What are you do- shit.” 

Patton reached the kitchen doorway and paused as he saw Logan hunched over the sink, coughing and spitting. Emile moved to block him from Patton’s view. “Hey, pumpkin!” he chirped. “Whatcha up to?”

Patton blinked. Emile’s cheeks were pink and he looked uncomfortable. “Um. Do you want some lunch?” he asked. 

Patton looked at Logan. “Is Pa okay?”

Emile rubbed his husband’s shoulder. “Papa’s fine. He just, um, ate too fast.” 

Patton furrowed his brows. That seemed like a blatant lie. “But-”

Logan coughed once more, louder, and wiped his face on his sleeve. “Dad’s right. I’m fine, Patton.” He rinsed the sink out and stood up straight again, he adjusted his glasses. “I could make us some omelets for lunch?”

Patton still seemed unsure but Logan pushed past it and opened the fridge. “Who wants to help?”

Emile grabbed a frying pan. “Pat, sweetpea, grab the glass bowl please?”

Patton hesitated before taking a deep breath. He was just being stupid. Papa’s fine. He reached up to get the glass bowl and handed it to Emile. They wouldn’t lie to him. 

And there’s no way it was actually blood in the sink. 

+++

“He almost saw you feeding!” Emile paced back and forth, chewing on his thumbnail. “Oh my goodness. What if he had walked in? He knows something’s wrong. He’s a smart kid, Lo. He’ll figure it out and he’ll be so hurt that we didn’t tell him!”

Logan sighed from the couch, his head in his hands. “Emi, please. Just calm down.”

“I can’t be calm! Patton trusts us now, and we’re keeping this from him. How is that fair?”

“Em, dear, we’re keeping this from him to protect him-”

“No, what does that even mean!? He’s not protected, he’s just a kid who doesn’t even know who his dads really are.”

“Emile.” Logan finally stood up and stepped in front of Emile’s pacing route, making Emile flinch at his vampire’s speed. 

Logan took Emile’s hands and set them on his shoulders. He gently took Emile’s hips and tugged him closer. “It’s okay, kitten,” he whispered. 

Emile shuddered as the tears that had been building finally spilled over. “I’m just so worried for him.” He buried his face in Logan’s neck. 

The vampire rubbed his back. “I know you are.” He threaded his fingers through Emile’s hair and kept running his hand up and down his husband’s spine. “It’s okay.”

Emile cried. “I want to tell him.”

“Shhh, I know.” Logan kissed his head. “I know. We will. We can do it soon. We’ll do it soon, I promise.” He swooped down to pick Emile up, cradling him close to his chest. “Let’s get some sleep now, okay? It’s late.”

Emile sniffed and scrubbed his eyes. “Okay,” he whispered hoarsely. 

Logan kissed his forehead and carried him up the stairs, smiling at his husband’s halfhearted protests. 

“I can walk!” He insisted, keeping his voice low enough to not wake Patton. 

“I’m sure you could, kitten, but why walk when you could have your vampire husband carry you?”

Emile kissed him as he was set down on their bed. “I love you heaps.”

“I love you heaps too, Emi.” Logan assured him. “Go to sleep.” 

“Okay.”

+++

Logan hurried into The Witch’s Corner, his arms full of pastry bags and coffee cups. He sped straight to the counter and set everything down. He took a sip from his own reusable takeout cup as he grabbed his boss’s one. He took a second to admire the hand painted designs that were splashed across the cup, Dee’s work. Logan zipped to the back of the shop where Roman was organising a shelf of herb-filled jars. 

“Your tea,” he said. 

Roman glanced up. “Oh, thank you.” He took the cup gratefully. 

“There’s donuts and biscuits on the counter.” 

Roman hummed. “And how’s my son? Still obsessing over his wedding binders?”

“Remy was working at the counter when I got there. Virgil was serving all the customers and they both seemed incredibly annoyed with a florist.” 

Roman chuckled. “Sounds like them.” 

Logan leaned against the shelves and noticed a painting on the wall. “That’s new. One of Dee’s, right?”

Roman glanced over at the canvas Logan was referring to. It was a painting of two black cats, running through a forest, being followed by a colourful, sparkly mist. The witch smiled. “Yes. Dee made it the other day.”

“It’s beautiful.” 

“It is.” Roman sipped his tea and straightened a crystal cluster on a bookcase. 

They were interrupted by the bookshop’s door opening with a dainty little bell chime. “Hi, Roman!”

Roman smiled and headed out to the front. “Hey, kid.” 

Remus bounced over to the counter. “Can I do something cool today?” 

Logan walked over to them and sat down behind the counter. “Cool?”

“I wanna do witchcraft!” declared Remus. “Like you, Roman!”

“Roman’s not a witch,” dismissed Logan instinctively, shooting the older witch a tired look. “Stop feeding him your crazy voodoo lies.” he smirked. 

Remus lit up. “I want to learn crazy voodoo!” 

Roman laughed. “Alright. Maybe later, kid.” He pulled a donut from the brown paper bag. “But for now, you can redo the window display into something cool.”

Remus grinned. That was his favourite task. “Any theme?”

“Well it’s currently centred around dreamcatchers… so I’d say to switch it up we should go with the whole ‘skulls and crystals’ vibe.” Roman teased, smiling at the kid’s enthusiasm. 

Remus was wiggling with anticipation. “YES!” He scampered off to collect various bits and bobs from around the little shop, switching things around and taking all the feathery hoops down from the window. 

Logan shook his head fondly and pulled his book out from under the counter, it was a dusty old thing full of detailed sketches and smudgy faded scrawlings about ancient lore and myths. It took up a solid half of the counter but Logan loved it too much to stop reading through the old beliefs and occasionally jotting quotes down in his journal to do further research later. 

The witch took his donut back to the furthest corner of the shop to finish filing away some new books. Roman finished just in time for Remus to pop back and say goodbye. 

Roman waved him off and flipped the door’s sign to read ‘closed’. Logan was packing away his books. “Anything else you want done before I take off?”

“No, everything’s perfect. Go home, Logan. Give Emile a hug for me.”

“Of course.” Logan smiled and turned the door handle. “And stop telling that kid you’re a witch. We don’t need anyone else to know our secrets.” 

“Oh come on. Remus is a good kid. There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of magic.” 

“Maybe in your case,” said Logan, his smile saddening slightly. 

Roman rolled his eyes. “You’re not any form of bad or evil, Logan. You’re just as mystical as the rest of us and the sooner you figure that out, the better off you’ll be.” 

Logan inhaled deeply and looked to Roman once more. “Goodnight, Roman.”

“Goodnight.”

Taglist: 

@sander-sideblog

[hazgoldenstyles]

Goodnight love you and make sure to dream about Harry’s butterfly tattoo… and the ferns okay byeeeeee🤍

[willowser]

when you knock on the door to bakugou's dressing room for the fifth time, he finally calls out an unfairly agitated, "gimme a damn minute!"

you have. you've given him several minutes, actually, none of which he had to spare. the announcement for the awards ceremony has come across the loud speakers, the music has started, and his assistant has sniffed you out and made it seem like whatever wardrobe malfunction he's having is all your fault.

you have half a mind to go and find his mother, but you're sure that would only end in bloodshed. and he's already late enough for his lineup.

the door isn't locked, and you tell yourself that if he really didn't want anyone coming in, he would have locked it; it comes open rather easy when you shoulder into it, and bakugou doesn't even bother to look up at you when you barge in.

he's completely dressed, head to toe in the emerald suit his mother designed for him. the pants are cinched at his ankles perfectly, tight enough that he can stuff the material into his heavy boots in a way that successfully comes across as effortless—even though it took you twenty minutes of folding to fit everything in its right spot.

he's even wearing the hat, which he'd previously flat out denied to do.

so you're really not sure what the god damn hold up is.

bakugou is half hunched over, his back to you, fiddling with something you can't see. a voice echoes through the ear piece you're wearing and you have to rip it out before you let your anxiety flare and your impatience burst.

"bakugou," you ask, as calmly as you can, so as not to set him off and drag this nightmare out any further. "can i help you with something?"

he lets out a dramatic huff, lifting up onto his tippy-toes as he continues doing—whatever he's doing. "this fuckin' thing is—what the hell is this—"

finally he turns to face you, throwing his arms out into the air in exasperation. you ignore the frustration on his face in favor of doing another once-over of his outfit for tonight, and you grin at the result: he looks handsome as ever, formal enough to show he takes the ceremony seriously, but unconventional enough to still feel like dynamight.

and yet he's frowning.

you frown back. "what's the problem? you look great!"

his cheeks flush, and you think it's from his irritation until he gestures to his pants. "the problem," he grits out, "is that the fuckin' zipper is stuck."

oh.

"oh," you say, and—sure enough, when you drop your eyes to his crotch, you can see the peek of his black boxers underneath, plain as day. you don't miss his hands turning to fists at his sides, as you stare directly at them. "well have you—"

"if y'r gonna ask me what i think y'r gonna ask me—"

"alright, alright," you wave him off, making a face at him as you cross his dressing room to get a better look.

and—this has happened before, surely, with other heroes mitsuki's dressed in the past. you've not been the one sticking a hand down their pants, but you're a professional, and it doesn't matter that you like bakugou more than you should or that he drives you home after late nights in the studio or that you spend every christmas with his family side-by-side.

at least, that's what you tell yourself.

he makes another attempt at freeing the zipper, which has you squawking horribly from how violent he is; with one hand, he grabs the crotch of his pants and with the other, he yanks on the fly so hard you fear that the material will rip right before your eyes.

"no, no, no!" you snatch his hands away from himself, encircling his wrists, holding them out like the weapons they are. "are you crazy? your mother is gonna kill you if you ruin these pants!"

and almost on cue—another insistent knock sounds at the door.

you're so beyond out of time.

there's no choice, at this point, and you're a professional, you are—but when you push his hands back to his sides and step into his space, hand on his zipper, you can feel your heart slamming inside your ribcage.

"jesus," he mutters, turning to the ceiling when your head taps his jaw. so close to him, you can tell that he's sweating, and that only makes your whole body flush, too.

"sorry," you murmur, because you pull on the waistband of his pants and on the fly at the same time, a little gentler than he'd been doing, and your heart is pumping in your ears because this is such a compromising position and you haven't been close enough to feel the heat burning off his neck since his parents' last dinner party, when the winter winds set in and your cardigan proved to be just too thin.

but you can't think of him like that, not right now.

now how he looked in the dull orange glow of the patio lights, or how he wore the same cologne, or how neither of you have ever commented on the soft weight of his hand on your back.

"oh my god," you groan, though you're not entirely sure if that's directed at this fucking zipper or your own foolishness.

"it's stuck," bakugou repeats, and even though his voice is low and rough, it's shaking, and you can feel the ghost of his words brush across your forehead.

you drop to your knees to get away from it.

bakugou makes a sound you've never heard him make before. "what the fuck are you doing?"

you pointedly don't look at him, because if you have to stare up are his pink cheeks and the sweat on his temples and the fists he has at his sides, you think you will become very unprofessional very quickly.

"trying to help you!" you hiss back.

he shuffles on his feet when you take a closer look, furrowing your brows at the material of his pants that's already threading and tangled up in the metal teeth of his zipper. you frown up at him without thinking, but your eyes dart right back down when you realizes his lips are parted ever so slightly.

"this is ridiculous," you murmur, about many things, and you have to fit your fingers into the opening, to try and grasp it from the inside and pull the material free that way. yanking from the front like—admittedly—both of you have been doing is only making it worse.

bakugou jumps when your knuckles brush the front his boxers lightly, and you can see him raise his head back towards the ceiling from the corner of your eye.

"sorry," you tell him again, though it garners no response. you're able to slowly untangle the threads of material from each of the teeth, but the constant motion of your hand against him doesn't stop; you have to pull left and then right and then back and then left and then right.

"this—fuck, you're—"

"i know, i know, i've almost got it."

you're so close to him that your head bounces off his belt when he jumps again, cheek pressing into the warmth of his thigh. the more you free from the zipper, the more you have to change your angle, and you have to scoot further in between his legs until you're right in them.

and—you don't know why, because you knew to avoid this, but you catch the motion of his head coming back down, feeling his eyes zero in on your face.

and you look back.

immediately his posture goes rigid and his stomach tightens beneath his shirt, and you can hear the air he inhales through his nose. bakugou's eyes are—dark, like they are when he finds you at work after hours, well past closing and running on empty. when it's just the two of you and the lights of the city gleaming through the open windows of mitsuki's high-rise studio.

"sorry," you say again, instinctively, though the words come out much quieter than you mean them to, as if they're still in the suspense of the high-rise, too.

katsuki reaches blindly behind himself, settling a flat palm against the makeup table of his dressing room. he leans back just the tiniest bit, and the change in angle gives you an even better view of the black shirt resting against his stomach; it's tight, almost enough for you to see the muscle he's hiding beneath it.

enough to see the tremble of his breath when he lets out a slow exhale.

his eyes burn directly through you, and his lips part again just as you bite yours, and then you can feel him. slowly at first, soft and round against the back of your hand, and the longer you stare at each other, the firmer he grows, until the front of his pants are tight against the swelling bulge.

"jesus," he says again, though he makes no move to squirm away and neither do you. if anything, you—

if anything, you lean a little closer to him, until your cheek is almost brushing his thigh again, and you turn your hand enough to slide your fingers over the outline of him, feeling the tiniest growing wet spot at his tip. katsuki swallows, adam's apple bobbing, and the muscle in his cheek jumps as his stomach tightens again and he pushes forward against—

and then the door shoulders open, slamming against the concrete.

you yank your hand out of his pants so fast that you fall back on your butt, scrambling to catch yourself before you land flat on your back. bakugou turns towards the makeup table again, hunching over just like you'd found him, with a string of hissed expletives.

his assistant stands in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth pressed tightly together.

"my fuckin'—" bakugou rasps, and you can see that he's doing that awful yanking at his slacks again. "this zipper is stuck!"

"it's—" you didn't realize you'd been holding your breath until you'd gasped in surprise, and now you feel like you're panting too obviously, that there's probably sweat in your hairline now, too. "i was trying to—"

horribly enough, his assistant says nothing. just stands there and watches you both, until there's a promising zip and the snap of his boxers and then bakugou is turning around.

flushed. red-faced. panting, too.

you're so glad it wasn't his mother who walked in.

his assistant finally seems to gather herself, though she blinks a little too intentionally at him. "i've—we've had to skip you twice now, you're—"

"yeah, yeah," bakugou mutters, and he pointedly doesn't look at you as he helps pull you up from the floor.

he doesn't move away from you, either, however.

"nag me later, i'm—" he casts you a quick glance. "i'll be right there."

"no, now, bakugou, you're—"

"fuckin'—okay, i—" he pauses to give you another look, this one more intentional than the last. this one on purpose, and lasting.

whatever he wants to say is stuck in his throat, and when the frazzled woman in the doorway sighs again, you shake your head and smile and grab his arm.

"i'll be taking the suit back tonight, so—i'll see you when you get done." and then, for added measure, you tack on, "i'll be waiting right here."

and then he twists his arm so that his thumb can brush against the underside of your wrist, and he's still sweaty and so are you and your heart is in your stomach, but you just don't care.

bakugou doesn't say anything, just lets out another huff and nods, before finally following his assistant out into the banquet hall, so he can accept the award he deserves with pants that are intact and not flashing his boxers to the public.

and your smile and the warmth in your belly and the pulse in your core are so unprofessional.

but you just don't care.

i would kill to see bakugou in this.

i just had the dumbest horny idea