#series: domestic

[hinamie]

long way home

[karo-li]

sometimes i feel like my drawings look like child's doodles 🫡

[suntails]

guess how much i love you?

[inklessletter]

Polaroid #1 May 28th, 1987

[cheshire-chronicles]

something (more x2) about domestic sae. you typically wait for sae to return from practice. he’s used to walking in, slipping off his shoes, dropping off his bag, and seeing you in an array of places. reading in the living room; humming with sweets in the kitchen; clambering downstairs, damp and warm after an evening bath.

tonight, he finds nothing of the sort.

a quiet home, dim and still. he looks in the kitchen, the stairwell — finds you asleep on the living room sofa. you’re in an off-kilter position, like you’d tried to stay up, only to doze despite yourself.

it makes something seize in his chest. petaling open like a summer rosebud.

when he kneels on the couch, just slightly over you, you stir. blinking up at him drowsily, recognition colouring your eyes. “you’re home,” you say, with so much easy familiarity, so little surprise yet so much warmth, it makes something almost vicious consume his brimming sense of affection.

“I’m home,” he murmurs, smoothing back your hair, tousled from your nap. “you fell asleep on me.”

“I was tired,” you protest, voice still so bleary, as though you were still caught in some dream. he can’t help but want, from somewhere deep within his ribs, for it to have been about him. “I stayed up so long waiting.”

“I know. don’t have to, though. you should rest.”

“but if I want to?” you smile teasingly, just a bit.

his thumb and forefinger find your cheek, squeezing a bit too hard. not out of any desire to see your wince. it just seems to be the only way to communicate the warming in him, a bit too rough in his handling of you, saying what his words never do.

you make a protesting sound, soft and petulant. a whine. he pinches just marginally harder.

“rest,” he says again.

“want to be with you, now that you’re back.”

he huffs softly, a light breath that doesn’t disturb the equilibrium of the room. he leans over you, and your eyes flutter shut as he noses your temples, breathing in your delicacy. floral, faint, familiar. part of him wants to cherish the rose; another part wants to crush it within his palm, hold it so no one else ever could.

“we can finish your nap together, then,” he murmurs, compromising. giving your way, as you always know he will. “just for a bit. otherwise, you’ll be up all night.”

“like you wont be,” you scoff, knowingly. prying out the little secrets he holds so tight. he only bundles you closer, under the guise of hushing you while you laugh quietly, though his heart beats only that much faster.

[sacredfixation]

I can’t stop thinking about how weirdly intimate this deleted scene is. Loki’s like, ‘ugh, the cream is weird’ and Mobius is like, ‘lol, shaving cream’ and it’s just this quiet little moment of domesticity in the middle of cosmic bureaucracy. Loki looks so comfortable and dare I say… happy? Like they’re in their own little pie-filled world.

And theres something so ridiculously soft about Mobius throwing out the dumb shaving cream joke and Loki, a literal god, just giggling like an idiot. Like, Mobius could’ve said ANYTHING, and Loki would’ve been like ‘hehe, you’re so funny.’ Bro was smitten over pie and banter.

[pseudowho]

Domestic Bliss: Nanami Kento #7, Cravings

Nanami Kento x Pregnant!Reader

"Kento.. when I say I want Taco Bell, I mean it. I really, really want Taco Bell."

The fragrant aroma of frying peppers and onions, garlic and heady spices, filled the kitchen. Kento had his back to you, his apron tied and snatching his waist inwards. The way he tapered up to broad shoulders, so profoundly triangular; you admired him with a geometrist's gaze. The cake beneath that neat little bow. Those long, long legs, thick-thighed and powerful. Perhaps you craved more than Taco Bell.

Your tummy rumbled, adding to that unique gravid discomfort of an already overstretched belly. Hearing your tummy growl through the thrill of fluid, your baby kicked, a foot occupying a space beneath your ribs you didn't know you had. And shit...you really wanted Taco Bell.

"Then I'll make you some." Kento replied, light, and broaching no argument. "There's no need to go out."

"While your cooking is lovely, I know what I want."

"Yes." Kento answered, infuriatingly calm with a patient smile. "You want tacos."

"I want Taco Bell."

"No you dont. Taco Bell is shit. You deserve better. They deserve better." Kento gestured with a spatula towards your belly, flipping chicken and vegetables in his pan. You felt a whoosh of outrage, your hackles rising like a cat in a fight.

You sidled up behind Kento, your ankles puffy, your wedding ring hanging on a necklace instead of on your swollen fingers. Your fingers tippy-tapped on the counter, one of your hands on his waist.

"...are you trying to police my body, Mr.Nanami?"

Kento heard a panic alarm go off in the back of his mind. Unwisely, he doubled down.

"...of course not, my love. I would never. I know your rights, and I would never ignore them, or your needs, or how you feel."

You let his words hang. The silence was almost as pregnant as you. Kento's alarm bells started to ring harder and a bead of sweat dropped in his mind. And yet--

"But," he continued, starting to smell smoke creeping beneath his metaphorical door, now, shouts and screams in the distance as you smiled at him oh fuck why is she smiling at me oh I've fucked up oh shit I've really fucked up, "fatty food makes your heartburn worse, and I can make you something much nicer, and too much salt will only add to your water retention. And your ankles are already so--"

Shit.

"...already so...what, my love?" Oh fuck oh shit I need to make this better I was just trying to be helpful I--

Kento turned the heat off. He lay down his spatula. He reached back to untie his apron.

"You know, darling...I think I fancy Taco Bell too."

Your smile widened, your clawing grip easing on his waist. "You do?"

"Absolutely. I'll get my keys."

"Yes. You will get your keys. And...help me get my shoes on. Please."

[jimmysea]

THAMEPO THE SERIES (2024) - EP 9

[khaoala]

LINGLING SIRILAK as FAHLADA THANANUSAK and ORM KORNNAPHAT as EARN SANITHADA episode 1 of THE SECRET OF US

[newjeansaot]

(Kinda nsfw) Like it's the first time

[earthfluuke]

Says the guy who was ready to jump him in the car about 2 minute earlier... THE HEART KILLERS (2024)

[heretherebedork]

Tiny movie-watching domesticity! And they earned every second of it.

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers EP10 | Kantbison + Physical Affection

[han-ban-bam]

here’s hoping they’re being left to Just Be somewhere someplace else

[inklessletter]

Polaroid #2 June 17th 1987

[theysangastheyslew]

IT'S CHRISTMAS IN JULY BITCHES (yes I know it's almost over shh 🤫)

Now could this have been 4 panels with Hans just plopping down on the couch, patting Levi on the shoulder and saying ''Yo I'm knocked up'', and then carrying on with their evening?

Why yes, yes indeed. But where's the struggle in that ? :')