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#I’m sorry I wrote this???
naturecalls111 · 9 months
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irate-iguana · 8 months
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We need more weird historian rep in Doctor Who. The companions are too normal when faced with the prospect of time travel. I want a companion who makes a list of super specific historical destinations related to their dissertation. I want somebody whose first reaction to finding out that the Doctor is a time travelling alien is to create a Microsoft Word document and ask, “What caused the Late Bronze Age collapse?”
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a-little-unsteddie · 4 months
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cw: child abuse mentioned, child neglect
Steve, who was never allowed to play in the snow as a child because it was ‘too messy’. Steve, who stared longingly outside as he watched other kids play in the snow. Steve, wanting to build a snowman, or an igloo, or have a snowball fight, but was denied each and every time by his parents. “It’s uncouth, Steven.” “It’s dirty, Steven.” “You’ll just whine that you’re cold, Steven.” “No.” “No.” “No.” Until he stopped asking altogether, even as he stared out his bedroom window at the other kids playing. Steve who loves the snow but was never allowed to play. The one time he snuck out, he was brought inside being dragged by his ear and spanked until he cried.
And then some for crying at all.
Steve goes shopping with his mom and sees a snow globe and all but cries for her to get it for him. If he can’t have the snow outside, he wants to have a snow globe to have it inside. She lets him get it, but not without commenting ‘at least it’s not going outside’.
Thus starts a collection, of sorts. Whenever he sees a new snow globe, he makes his mom buy him it and because he never asks to go outside to play in the snow if she buys one, she keeps buying them for him.
He has around 10 or 15 snow globes by the time he’s a teenager and left alone more than he isn’t. He still doesn’t go out to play in the snow, even if he silently yearns to, because now he’s ‘too old’ to play out in the snow. Tommy doesn’t like being cold, so he never goes out, and Carol won’t do something if Tommy’s not there, so Steve doesn’t bother asking her to go outside.
Steve becomes friends with Dustin and the rest of the party, and he still doesn’t let himself play with them, even when Dustin begs him to. He passes on the same excuses to him as his mom told him, and the words feel like ash in his mouth, but he doesn’t just play in the snow like he’s aching to. It’s too cold, he’ll be wet and miserable later, he doesn’t want to get water all over the house.
Mostly, they’re excuses because he’s kind of worried he doesn’t know how to play in the snow. That somehow he’ll be bad at it.
Eventually, when he and Robin become friends and their first winter together happens, he tells her this secret fear. It’s right after the kids go out to play, and it’s just them, and he whispers to her.
“I don’t think I’ll be any good at it.”
Robin is confused, of course, because how can you be ‘bad’ at playing in the snow? He elaborates to her that he’s never played and she’s less confused but more angry at his parents, which he thinks is an over reaction and she insists he’s having an under reaction, whatever that means, and the moment passes. Steve is relieved to have revealed that much to her. He still doesn’t go outside, and Robin gets cold easily, so she doesn’t want to go outside, so they stay inside together.
He still collects snow globes, when he sees them. He buys one in front of the kids and brushes it off as a white elephant gift for a family thing, but displays it in the unused guest bedroom with the rest of the snow globes. It’s on the other side of the house from where every other guest bed is, so usually no one takes it, and so he knows his collection is safe.
Even if he keeps it secret, and plans to keep it secret forever, until the following winter, after the spring break from hell and after the grueling summer and cool fall brings the snow again and Eddie Munson is a menace in his life. He’s by far the most energetic person that he’s ever been friends with, all touches and open affection, it’s almost too easy to fall for him.
Eddie is nosy as hell and of course it’s him that finds the collection of snow globes.
“What’s this?” Eddie’s voice echoes from down the hall and it takes Steve a few seconds to process where his voice is coming from before he’s rushing down the hall and into the unused guest room.
Along the left wall, there’s a shelf that stretches from wall-to-wall filled with snow globes.
Embarrassment shoots through him, and he shrugs. “…snow globes.” he explains badly, wincing when Eddie turns towards him with an unimpressed look. It quickly morphs into concern because for some reason, Steve’s started tearing up and once the tears start they don’t stop.
“Hey, it’s okay, I’m sorry,” Eddie soothes, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to, sweet thing.”
And the thing is, Steve does want to explain. Suddenly overcome with the urge to spill everything, in fact. So he does. He tells Eddie about his mom and dad refusing to let him play in the snow, the one time he got caught and got spanked for it, the snow globes, the fear of being bad at playing in the snow, still desperately wanting to despite it.
Through it all, Eddie holds him and listens. He hums occasionally to acknowledge what Steve is saying, but never interrupts him, for which Steve is glad because he doesn’t know if he’d be able to continue if he was stopped for any reason.
At the end of it, when Steve’s tears have dried, and they’re curled up in a pile of blankets on the couch, Eddie vows to teach him out to play in the snow. How to make a snow angel, a snowman, an igloo, a snowball — everything. He whispers these promises and plans into his ear, their hands intertwined where they lay on Steve’s lap.
And he follows through. With everything.
And the next time the kids beg him to play, he plays his part and says no, because he’s still anxious he’s going to do it wrong, Eddie throws a snowball at his back while he’s busy arguing with Dustin. And silence falls over everyone, waiting for Steve’s next move. Because he’s never given in, and no one’s ever pushed their luck like that.
Steve turns towards Eddie, narrowing his eyes at him.
“Oh, it’s on, Munson.”
The kids cheer and then it’s chaos of snowballs being lobbed at one another.
Later, when everyone is warming up with hot cocoa, and Steve is curled into Eddie’s side with a blanket tossed over their laps, Steve knows he’s never been happier to have met Eddie, who taught him how to play in the snow.
“Thank you,” Steve whispers to Eddie, who hums curiously, lazily looking at him from the corner of his eye. “For teaching me how to play in the snow.”
“Always, Stevie. I’ll always help you.”
And it sounds like a promise.
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raindropsyndrome · 8 months
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HIII I’M BACK! And I like Trigun now
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call-memissbrightside · 8 months
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hi—
Katsuki would over compensate with toys, trips, candy, whatever to get his son Katsuma to like him…
Yet, Katsuma was his son, and he was stubborn just like his father
He wouldn’t bat an eye when Katsuki gave him a new game controller, nor with tickets to the amusement park
“Try harder old man,” Katsuma’s smirk was so much like his own it was jarring to the hero.
You felt bad, horrible because you could tell not being able to bond with his son that he just found out he had a month prior hurt Katsuki. You give him some guidance.
“Katsuma doesn’t like any of that stuff,” you speak softly as Katsuki packs up his bag of tricks. It was past 10 and Katsuma finally went to bed after his father awkwardly retold him stories of his early years as a hero. Katsuki and you worked out a plan that he’d but him to bed since his work hours mean he can’t make school pick up.
“He likes hiking like you, and he loves sharks,” you smile at the similarity betweeen the boy you loved and the little boy you created.
Katsuki was angry at you… for keeping Katsuma a secret from him. He was angry and hurt and didn’t know how his heart could still sting at the sight of you or the sound of your voice after five years apart. Here stood the girl who he thought he’d spend the rest of his life with, the same girl who lied to him and now what? Katsuki struggled to make sense of his new life as a co-parent, as a parent.
“Wouldn’t need fuckin pointers if you didn’t lie to me,” katsuki crumbled under his breath, defeated.
You feel like crying, the tears are there stinging at your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you repeat again and again, but you both know it doesn’t make a difference.
Katsuki didn’t like hurting you, even if he had every chance to rip you a new one. He just couldn’t, his heart couldn’t take it.
“ ‘s fine, don’t cry. I’m a dick, sorry,” he moves to leave your apartment, pausing.
“Hiking huh?” His little smirk makes you blush even thou you know it shouldn’t. Not anymore.
“Y-yeah, and sharks,” you point out dumbly.
Katsuki nods his head, “I can do hiking and sharks.”
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matchamiko · 17 days
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₊˚⊹ ᰔ Lucky Undies
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₊˚⊹ ᰔ Warnings: oral sex ( f -> receiving) m.masturbation, mentions height difference (reader implied shorter than Aizawa), reader implied big belly, thighs + ass (ie. not skinny), prev. established relationship, sooooo self-indulgent don’t look at me
₊˚⊹ ᰔ Note: disgusted with myself honestly.
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“What are those?”
You stop in your tracks, toothbrush lodged in your cheek and foam threatening to drip down your chin.
Aizawa stands behind you in the bathroom doorway, eyes trained dark on the tug of your sleep shirt over your ass. Spitting into the skin, bending lower and offering more of a view, you finish washing your mouth with heat all over your face,
“I didn’t have anything else clean, s’all I got,” you explain yourself, eyes connecting with his in the mirror,
“And they’re your last resort because?” Arms folded over his broad chest sprayed with dark hair, Aizawa cocks his hip against the doorway, eyes never leaving the peak of your asscheek from beneath the t-shirt. It’s his and it’s soft and he offered it to you on your first sleepover years ago, a little tighter round the middle now but still long enough to pass as a nightie.
“They don’t fit!” You resort with embarrassment, “they pinch my hips and they go up my butt ‘nd roll down my belly if I bend down or even move,” you feel as though there’s steam hissing from your ears, suddenly regretting even putting on the offending underwear. You’d miscounted your laundry days and found yourself wearing either silky lingerie or old high legged cheeky style undies that were a very adorable baby pink and sported a little red rose at the front. Usually you wore comfortable high rise with a trusty band and often times sensible colours so to not show through your chosen trousers or skirts of the day. Maybe you’d wear a thong if you felt adventurous but comfort was key in your relationship with underwear, and being with Aizawa for so long helped you not only explore that a little bit but also enabled you to stay comfortable without judgement or ridicule.
And Aizawa liked your plain underwear, didn’t care much for it really because all he often wanted was them off or not even on in the first place. Complaining about his partners choice in underwear was beneath him; he’s a man, he’s mature and he’d much rather eat your pussy than muse over what’s covering it.
But these? He’s not seen these before.
“Cute,” he says with a gravelly voice, stalking forwards slowly, “you look cute,”
Biting your lip, you shake your head,
“I’ll just put some gym shorts on and do a quick wash, s’stupid to even try to do anything in these,” you grumble dejectedly, turning and even in your limited movements, the seam tugs over your cheek and makes you cringe.
But Aizawa is as sturdy as he is stubborn, a wall preventing you from leaving and a large hand sits heavy and inviting on your hip.
“I said you look cute,” he says pointedly, “not just the underwear, but you in general, seeing your skin makes me - desperate,”
That hand smoothes under your sleep shirt, fingering the thin, stretchy band of the panties with a heavy breath in his chest. The harder he pulls the band, the higher up your hip they go and the further up your -
“They’re just panties Shouta,” you blink up at him, leaning closer to ease his fondling, “stupid uncomfable panties that is,”
“Shh,” Aizawa kisses you quiet, a peck to keep you satisfied while his other hand drifts over to your ass, fisting the fat and spreading you meanly, “just - lemme look for a sec,”
His eyes catch the flash of your asshole in the mirror, panties caught taught and high over your ass and he groans low and deep from his belly. You clear your throat and whimper when he buries his face into your neck, teeth scraping the delicate skin there. Then - his hand rounds to your stomach, fiddling with the little silky rose before tickling the exposed skin of your belly from where the panties had dislodged and folded down.
He doesn’t often explore you this selfishly, having listened to your qualms and insecurities over your body, doing it to prove that no weight could distance him from desiring your body. But he touches you with a filthy selfish agenda and filthier moans.
Thick fingers tease you over the fabric, slippery with your arousal, sliding between your folds and circling your clit with loud little click. It’s shameful how turned on you are at his exploration of your underwear, but he’s no better; hard and heavy and leaking against your hip. ‘Nd when you look down, mewling at the thick forearm jammed between your cushiony thighs, you can see the flushed tip of his cock peaking from the sagging waistband of his underwear, black and tight and baring a hole just above the seam on his thigh.
And suddenly you understand exactly how Aizawa feels with you in underwear he’s never seen before. Because those are boxers you bought him three christmases ago and are also a result of not doing laundry often enough. And when you look up at him with your hand squeezing him through the thin fabric; your shameful desperation is reflected in his eyes.
All too suddenly, Aizawa is on his knees and your lower back is cradled uncomfortably against the bathroom counter, and he’s all up between your thighs with devastating groans and grunts.
“Taste’s fuckin’ divine,” his tongue is hot and so wet against the gusset of your underwear, pulled tight over your cunt and practically frothing with how aroused you are. One hand cups your ass and spreads you, the other is crude and sharply tugging on his cock. At the taste of you. At the smell of you. Nipping your clit through the fabric and sucking hard enough to send you shuddering and shaking right down to your toes.
“Shouta ! S’too much !” You grip the top of his head, hair tangled from sleep but the tugging of the knots seem to encourage him, groaning into your cunt and huffing deep agonising breaths against your pubis. You’re on your tiptoes, one leg lifting a little even to give him space and Aizawa shuffles closer on his knees, haphazardly throwing your leg over his broad, sinewy shoulder.
It’s almost like the sensations are muted, dulled through the thin fabric of your panties. But they’re still there and you fumble with your shirt for a moment before lifting it and tucking the hem beneath your chin so you can look down, down at your boyfriend so eagerly and so messily slurping at your pussy.
He’s feral like this, eyes fluttering and nose pressed hard into your clit, tongue trying to rip through into you but failing miserably. Or not, as it seems that wasn’t his goal, simply content with tasting you through the panties that had entrapped him so suddenly. You couldn’t even feel confused and weird at his random bout of arousal over your too-small panties, too thrummed with pleasure and the shivers of an orgasm to really deep dive it.
It rears its head slowly, but with a strength you’d yet to experience before. All suction and desperate licks, moans and grunts vibrating you just enough to send you jerking into his mouth. Hips moving on their own, tits falling from the grasp of your shirt and shuddering with your movements. Your underwear slips and tugs harshly as you grind through your orgasm, pulled taught only by Aizawa’s insistent tongue and fingers. He seemed to have given up on his own pleasure, or got enough from watching and tasting you, both hands clutching your thighs around his head.
“Let up, oh my god, give me a sec Shouta,” you’re still panting hard, limbs boneless and belly throbbing with every aftershock, cunt fluttering against the sodden and stained panties, “you’re such a - now I really don’t have anything to wear today,”
Your words die from a telling off to a small sigh at the sight of him, drunk on the sight and taste of you. His eyes are heavy, mouth open and shining with your spend, cheeks flushed and chest heaving,
“Good news for me then,” he stands with a grunt, coming in close enough for you to smell the remnants of your orgasm on his lower face - but he doesn’t kiss you. Instead massaging your hips and the tangled band of your underwear, “I’m having you on my face next, ‘nd keep these on,”
He’s a pervert really, snapping the band and making you tut in disapproval. But as you follow him into the bedroom with a sheepish grin and nervous lust building in your chest; you realise you are too, for letting him indulge in this and letting him.
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all rights reserved © matchamiko. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
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farah-o-0 · 2 months
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my first animation🥹
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ghostpunkrock · 4 months
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my dealer: got some straight gas 🔥😛 this strain is called “winter 2021” 😳 you’ll be zonked out of your gourd 💯
me: yeah whatever. I don’t feel shit
5 minutes later: dude I think they wrote a cohesive gay narrative into 1970s sitcom mash
my tumblr mutual pacing around their bedroom: bj hunnicutt is lying
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jqnehr · 3 months
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The one feeling Doctor Zayne has been very familiar with as of late is fatigue. Exhaustion. His career, one he enjoys nonetheless, is working him to the very bone.
More often than not, he doesn’t arrive back to his apartment until well past midnight, sometimes even in the wee hours of the morning. However, even if it may be at an ungodly hour that Zayne eventually returns, the sight he is welcomed with seems worth it.
The man, by nature, is cold, aloof and rather austere. Icy, to most—except those he holds close, and at present, you’re the only one he’s got.
You always try to wait up for him, but sleep traps you before you can catch the beep of the front door’s code being recognised and the shuffling of feet.
Zayne’s come to expect this sight now. He’d enter, push off his shoes and run a hand through his dark hair, sighing tiredly, turning the corner for the living room. The lights would still be on, the TV playing but on mute, and your slumbering frame sprawled on the couch, neck at an undoubtedly uncomfortable angle.
Zayne rarely smiles, but it’s at moment like these when he feels the corners of his mouth curl up. It’s not significant, it’s nothing special, but it means something to him. He feels appreciated, even though you can never stay awake long enough to actually greet him at two in the morning.
He reaches for the remote, hitting the off button. Some hair has fallen into your wide-open mouth, one of your feet still slippered. He finds it endearing. Scooping you up, he quietly pads across the tiled floor in his tired socked feet for the bedroom, pushing the door open with his shoulder and entering. Zayne gently places you down upon the soft mattress, checking to make sure you didn’t stir. Your eyes remain tightly shut, breath even and deep.
He adjusts the pillow beneath your head to make sure it’s comfortable, pulling a blanket up over you. With a soft peck to the crown of your head, Zayne turns and makes his way for the bathroom, yawning, eager for a shower. He has about four hours of sleep before he has to head back to the hospital again for his next shift, and he’s practically falling asleep on his feet right now. God, I need a vacation.
With you, preferably. Out somewhere remote, maybe tropical, with hammocks to relax in and just chat idly over a glass or two of sangria. Maybe while the night away, lost in each other’s arms. Have slow coffee mornings and a day on the sand, soaking in the sun. Fantasies he’s more than willing to achieve if it means you have a wonderful time with him. Zayne smiles to himself in the mirror while brushing his teeth. It’d be nice.
You’re still snoring softly away once he’s finished in the bathroom, shuffling under the covers beside you. He draws you into his arms, leaning into your warmth, feeling his exhausted limbs relax from your familiar scent. Even with such humble, modest simplicities—they’re the small moments that get him through the day. Knowing you’ll be waiting for him, knowing he can put a hard day behind him and welcome the new one eagerly. If it’s with you, he’d never give up his mundane, draining daily routine for the world.
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vampykween · 4 months
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i’m sorry but i am a period sex truther‼️
simon wouldn’t even be phased just a “if it helps ya feel better why not” and you’re so giddy because you weren’t expecting him to be into it. in fact you were preparing yourself for him to brush you off and have to deal with the disappointment.
your boyfriend is so diligent laying down towels for you and suddenly you’re feeling shy at the thought of him seeing you like this. he’s seen you on your period of course and he’s seen you naked, but having him look at you with that hungry look in your eye during your time of the month feels a little daunting.
you’re broken out of your thoughts when simon runs his hands up your legs, caressing your thighs softly; his method of wordlessly soothing you and it works like a charm. you take a deep breath as you feel him line himself up with your entrance and you brace yourself for the familiar feeling of him filling you completely.
simon takes your hand and tangles your fingers together, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand and questions, “ya ready baby?” words fail you so you simply nod enthusiastically. in one fell swoop he pushes into the tight heat of you and you both moan in unison at the feeling. you feel more sensitive right now, your gummy walls clamping down on him with every thrust. it doesn’t take long before you feel your orgasm building, white hot heat simmering inside of you. your boyfriend has his head buried in the crook of your neck and is groaning loudly and whispering in your ear about how tight you are and how much he loves the feeling of your pussy gripping his cock.
“si- baby…oh my god. i’m-“
“i know love, ‘ve gotcha”
simon’s hand trails down and rubs fervently at your throbbing clit, the lewd wet sound of your blood and arousal fill your ears and you momentarily feel like you should be disgusted but can’t even bring yourself to be. in no time your back is arching, body bowing as you hurdle right over the edge.
your chest is heaving and you feel sort of cockdrunk that you barely even notice simon pulling out and cleaning you up. you must’ve dozed off because when you wake you’re being scooped up and settled into a hot, bubbly bath. before the blonde man can pull away you grab his face in your hands and kiss him passionately. he was so good to you, how did you manage to get so lucky?
“i’m the lucky one love” you hadn’t realize you said that out loud, but you’re not even embarrassed at your admission. simon deserved to know how much you adored him.
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kissitbttr · 6 months
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kiss it, kiss it better, baby
☆ ghost is insecure with the way he looks, but you’re there to help him realize he’s pretty ☆
pairing is with fem!reader
-
first thing you had learned about simon is how much of a closed off person he is. to the point where he shuts almost everyone out except his colleagues.
so when he first met you, he had no expectations whatsoever. sure, he thought you were breathtaking. ethereal even. the first thought when he saw you walked into the room for the first time is ‘how could God let His prettiest angel roam around free on earth? why had he not have any desire to protect you?’
your aura and smile is enough to make his knees wobbly. the sound of your laugh makes his lips twitch into a genuine smile. almost.
and he’s trying to figure out why your presence is making him turn into a puddle.
but he’s been there before. manipulated by soft and delicate looking people only for them to be a complete different person once he gets a little too attached. that reason alone was enough for him to protect his heart even more. despite your affection and your warm nature, he was still cold. harsh even.
and you understand completely. fully taking your time in getting to know him, being patient and soft, because a person could only handle so much given to his story. you heard from soap about how much he had to endured and your heart was torn.
‘poor lad… went through a lot’
is what soap had said.
so you made it your mission to make him feel at ease. become his person. his home. moving slowly but surely. this made simon baffled by your actions. why do you still hang around? why do you keep giving him affections? why can’t you just go and find someone who’s not bottling too much of emotions and trauma?
answer is simple. you love him.
and boy, was he shocked. in a good way. because it has been far too long someone had said that word to him. and not just say it but you actually prove it.
in time, simon begins to learn how to properly love again. he learns how to be someone’s someone. he yearns for you now. opening up a bit more about his past and he can’t forget the way you clutch his hands tightly around yours as he spoke. a simple act to remind him that it’s just you and him and no one else.
there’s only one thing he has been afraid of.
unmasking.
the thin scars decorating his face is one of the things he has always been so insecure about. and he’s scared that you might think of him differently after seeing. in your own opinion, he’s stupid to think that — will all due respect— encourage him day after day that you wouldn’t think so, still he doesn’t budge.
despite you being impatient on wanting to see his handsome features, you never push him. you would never do anything to make him feel uncomfortable. you adore him too much to do that.
“so i said to her… ” you emerge from the bathroom while brushing through your hair, eyes focusing on your long locks. “ ‘bitch, please you are looking at the owner’ and i kid you not… she went pale as shit” you chuckle as you tell him a about what happened at work
he hums, pretending to listen. the only thing that matters to him is how beautiful you look tonight. the way your fingers running softly through your hair, your glowing skin, your cute giggle and fuck,
how your night gown leaves little to no imagination,
“and then i took my G19 and shot her in the head”
“that’s good, baby” ghost mutters lowly, his eyes falls down to your exposed thighs. his train of thoughts were interrupted by you throwing a pillow at his direction.
“ow! hey!”
“you aren’t even listening!” a grunt of protest falls from your lips, arms crossed over your chest. “i was telling you about my day!”
he puts his hands up in defense. playful smirk across his face. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry! you just look so good standing there in your night gown, love…”
putting down your brush on the bedside table, you roll your eyes. though you can’t help but smile.
“that good, huh?” pulling the covers next to him before slipping inside. “i look that good to you?”
his large hand moves to palm your thigh. “more than good. you look absolutely divine”
your smile grows, and you can feel him smile too underneath the mask. both of your eyes locked for a while before you sit up a little bit and pat your chest.
“wanna lay?”
ghost quickly nods with a grin, scooting closer towards you before carefully laying his head. his fingers tap your leg, signaling you to put it over his thigh, you oblige.
a sigh of contentment escape from his lips once your press a kiss on top of his masked forehead. gentle fingers tracing lightly against his traps.
a question bubbles into your mind. a question you have been dreading to ask. tongue clicking against your teeth as you contemplate.
“what’s on your mind, beautiful?”
it’s like he could read your mind. you can never escape him.
shrugging you reply, “just wondering”
“wondering what?”
you inhale a sharp breath. “about when i can see this handsome face of yours.”
a smile on ghost’s face falters a bit. he knows you have been waiting for him to unmask. it has been months since you begin your journey together, and he knows that you have waited too long to see him. it isn’t fair to you, he knows that.
but again, he doesn’t want you to think differently of him.
“hm?” you place another kiss on his head when he’s not answering. “am i getting closer to getting the privilege to see that handsome face?”
the question is playful, though ghost could feel his heart beating far too loud. he believes every word you say to him, because he knows you would never lie to his face. except this one particular thing
“ ‘m not, lovie” he squeezes your thigh, fingertips grazing your soft skin.
you gasp, moving your head back a bit to the side so you can see him. “and who told you that, huh? soap? gaz?”
he’s quick to shake his head. “no one has ever seen me. i just know that i am”
“baby, that’s bullshit and you know it” you argue, bringing your other hand to rub his cheek with your thumb.
a silence falls between you two. he doesn’t know what else to response to that. it has been too long since he lets anyone see how he really looks like.
he moves his head closer to your chest, pressing his cheek against it to listen to your heartbeat better. “i just don’t want you to regret being with me, tha’s all”
if a heart could break, yours would in that moment. for all the times you’ve spent together with him, ghost is not the person that would showcase his vulnerability nor emotions. he’s tough. cold. stoic. he’d rather die than to do that.
but something in the way he speaks in a tone you’ve never heard from him before just makes you want to protect him even more. the insecurity laced in his tone is enough to do so.
“do you trust me?” your voice is gentle as ever, seeing him nod slowly. “then you know i would never do anything to make you feel small, yeah?”
he snakes his arm around your waist, nodding again. “yes”
your eyes casting down to him. “can i see my pretty baby, then?”
he feels his cheeks warm at the compliment, swallowing a small gulp as he tightens his grip a little.
simon is quiet for a moment, making you almost feel guilty for pushing him a bit. but you can’t help it. you want to see him.
you want to see your man.
and as you’re about to apologize, he speaks up,
“okay.”
a wide grin slowly makes an appearance on your face, “yeah?” he nods slowly, looking up to you with a soft smile.
“yeah” his voice is low. husky. “i trust you.”
“you do” you confirm, fingers moving gently to the bottom of his mask. for a moment you stop to see any sign of him fighting back or fidgeting. but he gives you nod, telling you to continue
with a smile, you tuck both of your thumbs underneath his balaclava. slowly you remove the material up to his nose, familiar soft pink lips that has been brushing against yours for the past few months appears. you stop for a moment and let your finger thread lightly on it, goosebumps rises against his skin as he feels you getting closer to fully unfold him.
the beat of both of your hearts are thumping. one part, you’re excited and the other he’s anxious. anxious that you’re not going to like it.
he closes his eyes the moment you completely remove the balaclava from him. hearing a gasp falls from you is making his nerves go up even higher.
‘please don’t leave me, please… please don’t’ he thinks
“simon you—you are so. fucking beautiful’
the moment he hears those words, his eyes snap open. seeing your wide eyed gaze travel from his forehead and down to his chin. both of your hands move to cup his face with jaw slightly wide open. no words are uttered.
you are truly speechless. taking the time to observe every single detail of his features. from his dirty blonde hair, big brown eyes, sharp nose, thin scars around his eyebrow and down to his cheekbone. you believe those things compliment his entire face.
he is absolutely handsome.
“my god” your voice comes out in a whisper, his breath hitches. hand still gripping tightly around your waist. “you’ve been hiding all these from me?”
a hearty chuckle rumbles from his chest, avoiding your eyes because he fears that you might see him blush.
“you don’t have to lie to me love, i—“
“fuck i ain’t!” you exclaim with a laugh, head shaking at his response. “simon you don’t realize how handsome you are, do you? and these?” finger pointing at the faded scar,
“prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
he cocks both of his eyebrows, eyes glinting full of hope. “you think so?”
“i know so, my darling.” plants a kiss on the tip of his nose. “gorgeous.” one on his eyelid. “my pretty man.” one on his cheekbone. “my baby” last one on the scar.
he pulls your body closer to him, melting at the feeling of your lips all over his face. “‘m not” he mutters
“definitely are. my handsome man” you argue, ruffling his hair. wide smile spreads across your lips as you watch your handsome man hides his face in between your breasts. “are you my pretty baby? hm?” you coo in a soft tone, not stopping to pepper him with kisses and praises.
he becomes shy, because he’s not used to this. choosing to find comfort in your chest yet he can’t help to admit how much he enjoys the affection. you feel him smile against your chest, and he’s hiding it but you can definitely sense him blushing too.
god, you love this sight. your hardcore, stone cold, military boyfriend becoming putty in your embrace. one you truly never thought you would see, and you’re enjoying every bit of it.
he does too. perhaps even more than you enjoying yourself
“me, me me. I’m your baby.” he mutters softly, eyes fluttering shut
-
i love babying a man, arrest me
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yea-baiyi · 1 year
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ok but like imagine being hua cheng. and when you were a teenager you were trapped in a cave with your god when he got hit with sex pollen and you already felt ugly and unlovable but he stabbed himself through the gut rather than touch you and you saw him shirtless and horrifyingly that’s how you found out you were gay
and then you meet him again centuries later when you’ve grown up and become comfortable in your own skin, and you think you might be in love with him except a part of you still feels terrified that he’ll look at you and find you hideous again. but you want to trust him so you show him your real face. and. turns out he finds your adult self so hot that you make him horny for the first time in his life and he keeps doing and saying absolutely deranged things because he does not know how to cope. he panics and tries to give you, a ghost, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and while you’re lying there trying not to freak out he is beside you acting out his one man humiliation-style comedy show because he has never wanted to kiss someone before let alone fuck. he agrees to get locked in a coffin together because he never even considered the possibility that he might pop a boner except he does pop a boner and now you are stuck under him while he squirms and you are trying very hard not to think about your own boner
i don’t know how to end this post i just think that’s so funny. and they live happily ever after and have lots of gay sex. hua cheng keeps winning. slay king
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bluesadansey · 2 months
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unstoppable force (Adam’s canonical teacher kink) meets immovable object (Gansey being a professor’s soul in a teenagers body).
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zorosdimples · 30 days
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mdni. reader has breasts. yuuji is your personal heater!
“fuck, it’s cold,” you gripe to yourself. you’re curled up on the couch trying to enjoy a book. but even though wrapped in a sweatshirt, sweatpants, and fuzzy socks, you can’t seem to stay warm.
you call out to your boyfriend who’s in your shared bedroom. when he pops his head into the living room, you ask, “could you please grab me a blanket, yuu? it’s freezing in here.”
yuuji stares at you wide-eyed for a moment before his amber gaze heats and softens. he walks over to the couch and plops down next to you, pulling you onto his lap. “you don’t need a blanket,” he states, fingers kneading the plush on your hips.
the scowl that wrinkles your brow and curls your lips is adorable; he chuckles, pressing a featherlight kiss to your nose. you toss your book to the side. “i told you—i’m cold,” you huff. “that’s why i kindly asked you to bring me a blanket.”
the pink-haired man seemingly ignores you, slipping his hands under your sweatshirt, his calloused palms dancing up the curves of your body until they test the weight of your breasts. he lets out a pleased hum as he squeezes them softly. “how about i warm you up?”
you grip his wrists and try to pry his hands off of you to no avail, then swat his chest in frustration. “yuu—not now. i’m almost finished with this book and i don’t want to put it—” his strong fingers massage your peaked nipples, forcing a whimper from your throat.
yuuji swiftly pulls of your sweatshirt and buries his face in your chest, panting hotly, goosebumps prickling your flesh. his honeyed gaze is focused on you—syrupy and pleading and hungry. “please?” he mumbles before nipping the fat of one of your breasts.
in a last-ditch attempt to preserve your dignity, you roll your eyes and sigh. “fine,” you acquiesce, teasing the neckline of his shirt, eager to peel it off. “but you better put that tongue to good use.”
“wouldn’t have it any other way,” he agrees. he grazes a nipple with his teeth before he wrapping his lips around it, suckling the pebbled peak. you clasp your hands around his neck and forget about the blanket and the book; instead, you allow yuuji to set your body ablaze.
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tariah23 · 2 months
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pupkashi · 8 months
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satoru is SHIT at flirting and i know it
like he could easily make people swoon when he doesn’t try but the second he decides ‘yeah i have feeling for u’ all his game goes down the drain
he uses stupid pick up lines and stuff on u but always manages to mess them up so they never actually work
“satoru where are you? shoko said the meeting was at 5:30” you asked, phone pressed to you cheek as you continued to look for the sorcerer.
“sorry I’m just lost” he pauses, a smile on his face, his confidence through the roof as he open his mouth again, “lost in those eyes of yours.”
silence.
“satoru we are on the phone”
he is absolutely mortified and debates on just completely giving up, but it’s when he’s unaware of his actions and just being himself that he finds you staring at him a bit longer, giggling at his words and blushing.
satoru is shit at flirting, but god is he a natural fucking charmer
he’s holding the door open for you, offering to walk you home, listening to you talk, watching your favorite shows with you and remembering your favorite things. he picks flowers for you and gives them to you, pays for your lunch anytime you guys are together, he’s always making you laugh and giggle even when he’s feeling like shit.
he’s the kind of guy to always brush hands with you when you’re walking next to each other, he’s holding your things for you, texting you and sending you things you’d find funny or that remind him of you, complimenting you constantly but not in a weird way
he’s the kind of bad flirting that hears you mention you like something and then he’s like “oh me too!” without missing a beat but he’s actually never consumed a single piece of media of the thing ur talking about and spends all night learning abt it in case you ever bring it up again
he once asked you if you could help him study before an exam and when he realized that you knew much less than him he ended up teaching you. he was sure his luck had ran out and he had fumbled extremely hard.
“toru! i passed!” you grinned, holding the paper in front of his face. the 90 written in red ink in the top right corner made his lips curl into a smile, grinning right back at you.
“i told you that you’d do great! I’m proud of you” he smiles, not expecting your arms to be thrown around his neck, squealing softly as you pull him into a hug.
you’re only giving him half a second to process what’s happening when your lips find his cheek, your heart racing and you’re hoping that shoko really did know gojo as much as she claimed to.
satoru is stunned, his face is red and his ears are burning and he should probably close his mouth or actually say something before all his efforts are washed away.
“haha cool” is all he stutters out, he’s cringing insanely hard and subtly pinching himself when you’re staring up at him with nervous eyes.
“yeah cool,” you mumble, already turning on your heel read to lock yourself in your room when he’s grabbing your wrist and pulling you into his chest.
“can i kiss you?” he whispers, your faces mere inches apart, your small nod is all he needs before he’s crashing his lips onto yours, smiling into the kiss because holy shit i fucking made it.
when he’s pulling away from you he has this silly little grin on his face, clearing his throat before finally speaking up.
“I’m really glad you passed” he says, you can’t help but want to tear your hair out, what happened to the satoru that could make any girl swoon?
it’s not until after the two of you start dating that he’s back to normal, using every pick up line in the book (correctly this time) and making your blush like it was his job. he’d make you stutter and roll your eyes, so naturally flirting with you.
you would always make fun of him and ask where this was when he was crushing on you, he’d only get extremely red and start pouting, saying he was just too embarrassed because he thought you’d reject him.
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a/n: hi hi back w a silly little drabble :P i don’t really like this much but i really wanted to post something so i hope it’s okay !! i think it’s sweet and silly hehe,, requests are open so feel free to drop something :3
taglist (send an ask to be added!) : @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi
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