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#totally not writing something
ph0enix-animations · 1 month
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Oh I am TOTALLY NOT writing something. Absolutely not, no no. I am not writing the story of my god au. WHAT GAVE YOU THAT IDEA?!
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vagueconfusion · 2 months
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Feeling real ridiculous for not having realized that Baron's "stark father" was the Nightmare King until now
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ryllen · 4 months
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"Don't u know what u're asking me with these?
'Abandon the sea, and stay on land'"
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"Are you sure you know~ what u're getting into, Trey-san?"
[x] [x] [x]
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earthtooz · 1 year
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hurt/comfort blurb based off an ask @missmeinyourbones received :3
gojo x gn!sorcerer!reader, he's ridiculous, lovesick and dramatic in the one but that's how we like him here so. enjoy!!
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“where is our couch?”
gojo looks up at you from his phone, grinning at you gently with the small smile that he always wears; one you’ve come to adore over the years. this time, however, it does nothing but irritate you because there is a large, vacant space in the living room that has ‘gojo satoru’ written all over it.
“what do you mean?” he asks but the lilt in his tone tells you everything you need to know.
that one, gojo has everything to do with your missing couch. two, you have fallen for his bait, successfully tricked into talking to him because three hours ago, you refused to acknowledge his existence after a heated argument that ended with you promising to sleep on the couch. yet after one harmless trip to the supermarket, you come back to discover that your bed for the night was missing.
and you know him well enough to know that his giddiness stems from the fact that you’re finally giving him the attention he’s been craving for the past few hours.
“where. is. our. couch?” you reaffirm, emphasising each word so they can get through his thick skull. 
“is it not in the living room?”
he sounds almost delighted at this peculiar interaction, seeming proud of himself as his eyes shine with mirth. they bravely look into your frustrated and irritated ones.
“i am in no mood to bicker, gojo,” you begin, “either you tell me where our couch has gone or i kick you out.”
the sorcerer pouts from where he sits on the bed, curling into a ball as he stares up at you. the sight would’ve been more comical if you weren’t so mad. “that’s not very nice.”
“you don’t deserve nice,” you mutter, turning on your heels to walk away before gojo can melt you with those honeyed words of his. from the bedroom, you hear fumbling and rustling, followed by footsteps. 
instead of paying gojo any mind, you go to the kitchen counter where you left the many bags of groceries you bought.
he rests his elbows on the kitchen island, subliminally begging for an ounce of your attention whilst you sort through the bags. “would you like some help?”
you give him a brief side-eye before resuming. his pout worsens.
“if i tell you what happened to our couch, will you promise to sleep on the bed tonight?” pleads the white-haired, “with me?”
you sigh, “yes.”
“i warped it somewhere.”
“what?” you almost drop the carton of eggs in your hold. “what do you mean ‘somewhere’?”
“somewhere in jujutsu tech, i’m not really sure.” he cringes at the glare you shoot him. “i was gonna get it back if you agreed!”
that was your last straw. running a hand down your face, you don’t see the way that your lover stares at you with hope from the corner of your eye. 
“for goodness’ sake, why did you warp our couch?” you quiz. 
“because you were going to sleep there,” he murmurs, “and i didn’t know how else to change your mind.”
“you’re twenty-three, gojo. you should know a thing or two about how to reconcile properly by now.” 
his pout worsens at the use of his family name. “i am a man in love, y/n, do you know what they say about men in love?”
before you can even think of a snarky remark, realisation hits you like an anvil. whenever gojo uses his teleportation technique it always… leaves… something behind. 
rushing over to the carpet that used to be under the couch, you almost have a heart attack when you lift it up and see the scorched marks that occur as a byproduct. the white-haired leans against the kitchen island innocently, whistling.
“and what are you planning on doing about this?” you shriek. you try to remain calm, really, but it’s hard to do so because gojo has an affinity for driving you to the brink of insanity.
“i will get someone to fix it, i promise!”
“and will they not be suspicious that there are marks in our floor?”
“a little bribery never hurt nobody, and i have a lot of money to bribe someone successfully. plus, i have connections in the jujutsu world!”
you drop the carpet, giving up. “i’m calling shoko to crash at hers for the night-”
“-then i’ll warp her house.”
“can you even do that? a couch is pretty impressive already.”
“so you think i’m impressive?”
“gojo.”
“i don’t know if i can teleport a house but i’m always willing to try.”
you hate him, you decide. “even if you could warp a house, you shouldn’t, because shoko will kick your ass.” 
“but you’ll protect me, won’t you?” 
you say nothing, merely glancing at your boyfriend before reaching for your phone in your pockets. however, before you could even unlock the device, gojo is beside you, crouched down to your level. he maintains a respectable distance, one that does not invade your personal space whilst fulfilling his need to be close to you. 
“are you actually leaving?” he whispers brokenly, completely changing the atmosphere as his eyes begin to shine with tears that threaten to spill. 
your words are lodged in your throat at the pitiful sight. whilst some part of your brain curses you for giving in so easily, the other part that loves gojo (who are you kidding, all of you loves him) begins to feel a little bad.
he continues, reaching for your hand to play with your fingers, “please don’t leave. i’m sorry for what i said when we were arguing. i love you,” he pauses for a second before adding as an afterthought: “a lot.” 
gojo’s apology, although a little awkward and rushed, is nothing short of endearing, successfully quelling the waves of frustration and anger you’ve been feeling for the past few hours. although the hurt has not completely faded, it’s a little less suffocating to be around him now.
his life is far from normal, you understand that, and you realised that it would be something you had to deal with when you started dating him in your last year at jujutsu tech. but you fell for gojo because of his sporadicity. life may have not been the same ever since, but in a world where all you are gifted is targets on your back in exchange for keeping lives safe, his love is a refreshing oasis for you to return to when all is said and done. 
even though he expresses it through unconventional ways, such as teleporting your couch because he was heartbroken at the prospect of being away from you, you think it’s a fair trade. 
as a way of accepting his apology, you open your arms for him and the white-haired doesn’t even let a second pass by before he’s crashing into you. 
it’s comforting, the way he holds onto you like you’ll slip from his grasp otherwise. “i’ll go get our couch back soon,” he mutters into you, squeezing your waist a little tighter.
“we’re having a moment, gojo, please don’t mention the couch or i’ll be angry again.”
“sorry,” the white-haired raises his head to look at you, “can i at least get nickname privileges back?”
“you’re ridiculous,” you huff, “no.”
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sugarcoatednightshade · 5 months
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thinking about how Humans Are Space Orcs stories always talk about how indestructible humans are, our endurance, our ability to withstand common poisons, etc. and thats all well and good, its really fun to read, but it gets repetitive after a while because we aren't all like that.
And that got me thinking about why this trope is so common in the first place, and the conclusion I came to is actually kind of obvious if you think about it. Not everyone is allowed to go into space. This is true now, with the number of physical restrictions placed on astronauts (including height limits), but I imagine it's just as strict in some imaginary future where humans are first coming into contact with alien species. Because in that case there will definitely be military personnel alongside any possible diplomatic parties.
And I imagine that all interactions aliens have ever had up until this point have been with trained personnel. Even basic military troops conform to this standard, to some degree. So aliens meet us and they're shocked and horrified to discover that we have no obvious weaknesses, we're all either crazy smart or crazy strong (still always a little crazy, academia and war will do that to you), and not only that but we like, literally all the same height so there's no way to tell any of us apart.
And Humans Are Death Worlders stories spread throughout the galaxy. Years or decades or centuries of interspecies suspicion and hostilities preventing any alien from setting foot/claw/limb/appendage/etc. on Earth until slowly more beings are allowed to come through. And not just diplomats who keep to government buildings, but tourists. Exchange students. Temporary visitors granted permission to go wherever they please, so they go out in search of 'real terran culture' and what do they find?
Humans with innate heart defects that prevent them from drinking caffeine. Humans with chronic pain and chronic fatigue who lack the boundless endurance humans are supposedly famous for. Humans too tall or too short or too fat to be allowed into space. Humans who are so scared of the world they need to take pills just to function. Humans with IBS who can't stand spicy foods, capsaicin really is poison to them. Lactose intolerance and celiac disease, my god all the autoimmune disorders out there, humans who struggle to function because their own bodies fight them. Humans who bruise easily and take too long to heal. Humans who sustained one too many concussions and now struggle to talk and read and write. Humans who've had strokes. Humans who were born unable to talk or hear or speak, and humans who through some accident lost that ability later.
Aliens visit Earth, and do you know what they find? Humanity, in all its wholeness.
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minty364 · 7 months
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DPXDC Prompt #72
One thing Danny hated about being a halfa is you don’t age. Unfortunately this also means that when you’re de-aged to age 10 you stay at age 10. The GIW did some awful things before they were disbanded but Danny stayed in the realms. He was their king after all. Thousands of years go by and the Justice League decides to summon the Ghost King to deal with a major threat (you can pick what it is) and they summon a 10 year old. Danny decides he’s going to mess with the people of this world.
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anklebitingbrat · 14 days
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nsfw 18+
I feel like aotc!anakin would be so so desperate to touch you, but so so afraid to lose the self control he’s being taught. Nights laying together, turning into messes of teeth clashing and panting through kisses were becoming just not enough. So you can bet that he brings something up one night, “I heard about something from another padawan in the temple today…” bracing yourself for what he’s about to say, “I heard, technically we could do stuff,” he insinuates, “we just can’t move.”
(basically this man is describing soaking let’s be fr).
Not caring about the logistics of this, just needing to feel his fat cock stretching you out, you find yourself on top of him. Both clothed, too eager, too inexperienced, too needy. Your hands resting on his chest, both legs wrapped around his waist as he’s below you, eyes rolling to the back of his head as your wet heat envelopes him. The ache he’s felt for months dissipates in that moment.
He’s looking at you like you hung the moon, eyes half lidded, mouth open with soft pants coming from his lips, his big hands massaging your hips, moving up and down your side occasionally. He’s whimpering after a few minutes, everything is too much for him. It’s all new, and in the best way possible, but he’s about to lose control, he knows he is. How couldn’t he right now.
“I can’t do this much longer…” he trails off.
Thinking you’ve done something wrong you immediately come alive again. The sweet ache in your pussy from his size, the feeling of his chest heaving beneath your hands, the dimly lit room, you were in another world. Another world where he would finally take control, finally bend you over, finally fuck you.
“Ani, what do you mean?” you breath, out of your daze.
“I mean I need to do something. Now.” oh.
His hands were travelling up your shirt now, pushing it up above your breasts, his left hand massaging you tit, pinching at your nipple. His right hand moving to your neck and jaw, placing his thumb over your lips.
You’ve done it before, sucked his fingers. Your lips move slightly to give a small kiss to the pad of his thumb before sticking your tongue out to swipe up the length of it. His eyes watching your every movement, dropping his other hand back to your hip. For Anakin, that was all he needed. He was losing the control he thought he so greatly possessed.
You felt too good wrapped around him, like he could feel your heartbeat, your wetness dripping down onto his balls, his thighs, he could smell it. He was drunk off of you, barely taken a sip, he did need more. His hips finally rutting up into you, a gasp escaping your lips “Ani-“. He knew it surprised you, but he needed this. He deserved this. He deserved you, everything your body gave was for him, and he was finally taking it.
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konigsblog · 4 months
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ghost putting a gun to the back of your head while you suck him off.
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coolnonsenseworld · 4 months
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I've heard there are people who don't know what HEX klance is...... so lucky.....
linktr.ee/mezzy
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I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :
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-
(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )
#tumblr polls#hrmm... a little poll perhaps.. about a subject I find interesting.. since this image came across my facebook today#still really not feeling that well. no longer shaking violently and such but I still feel weird and weak much more than usual#They did say my markers for like infection or inflammation were elevated but that they werent sure of the cause so hopefully#it's nothing too serious. they did also say a lot of different things can cause that thing to be higher than normal but didn't go into spec#fics of what. maybe some of them are relatively benign or something. I still havent felt much back to normal since#I got really sick that one time though. I feel fine on and off but then little bouts of feeling weird and sick happen. hrmmm#ANYWAY.. looking for small ways to be productive. such as little doodles on evil ipad or editing game videos#or posting polls or cat pictures or some other like not very labor intensive things#I WISH I COULD FOCUS on writing HHRGGhh... I need to finish my game.. it would be so freeing.. a project that's been looming#over my head for like 5 years even though througouht that 5yrs I've probably spent a total of 3 months working on it lo.. ANYWAY#I still partially really cannot beleive that people CAN see stuff in their heads. There's always part of me that's thinking like. well mayb#e everyone DOES see the same exact thing but we just describe/conceptualize it so differently that we think we're talking about#different things when we're really not. But I have been assured by people I've talked to about it that they can GENUINELY really see#stuff in their heads like as vivid as an actual picture in real life or something. And the other senses are neat too. Like for exmaple I#can hear in my head much better than I can see imagery. I still CANNOT hear vividly like as if I were listening to actual music out loud..#but I think it's developed more than my sight. AND interesting how this varies the creative process. a friend I was talking to on the phone#said they write by literally just watching stuff play before them like a movie. where my process is COMPLETELY different. AND that affects#the content/what details we focus on as well as our individual styles of writing have differences that can be traced back to that.. hrmm
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mintypsii · 3 days
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sketchbook doodle reqs from twt (part 1)
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cursedzucchini · 1 year
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DC x DP prompt #5
This is so dumb but Danny is Bruce's uncle.
And not in the Danny is old or whatever, no, my dude is 15 looks like he's 13 and when he was running away from home, he met this really really old lady which looked at him, looked at his wounds and went "aight I'm adopting u"
Danny thought she was a ghost and this was her obsession, so imagine his surprise when it turned out that not only this lady was alive, but also supposedly from very influential family??? Danny wasn't sure Abt that one, bc he himself never heard abt these "Waynes" like that just sounds weird, but hey. It made the lady happy so.
Anyway they part ways, bc the lady only wanted to adopt not care, and Danny decides, hey now that I have a new fam, maybe i should get to know them or something?
Well imagine his surprise when he found out some guy in his fifties is supposedly his nephew and has like bazillion kids.
Idk what happens next yada yada sheniganas happen and than Danny ends up in Gotham. And meets Bruce Wayne. Who obviously sees young child w si gns of abuse, black hair, blue eyes and is immidietly like "aight I'm adopting u" (like grandma like grandson huh)
Only this time, Danny is sure he isn't a ghost, and has a counter argument "u can't adopt me I'm ur uncle" and immidietly flees bc dealing w his problems isn't something he does.
Cue confused batfam or stuff idk, I'm so tired and this is just an excuse for crack
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seagull-scribbles · 8 months
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The Lesbians doing each-others make-up meme but its these two idiots!
This also inspired a one shot, which you can read on AO3 [here] by @veritas-dolos 💖
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willowser · 1 year
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the day of the opening, you text izuku thirteen times.
most of which are met exactly how you'd hoped, in a way that should settle the nerves steadily brewing in your gut:
izuku: i will be there @ 7pm sharp!! ( =^ω^)
izuku: did you finish your speech yet?? we can go over it in the car otw!!
izuku: i'm going to grab flowers??? (///∇///) idk if that's okay?? but it's a big night!!! i think you deserve them!!!!
you should be relieved at his excitement, appeased enough to know that he has plans, that he's looking forward to this, too. genuine promise threads his words—and yet you only feel the pinpricks of doubt.
when he doesn't show, you try not to take it to heart. it's not his fault, you tell yourself, angry that you're angry. the life of a pro-hero is a whirlwind, and after knowing izuku for so long, one would think you'd become accustomed to the sound of his voice-mail and the rain check any and all events are given.
maybe it hurts so much worse this time because he didn't show up and he didn't call. didn't answer, either.
maybe it hurts because you're standing in front of the vision of all might in acrylics, your painting style soaking through the canvas; alive in his creases and curves. despite the fact that this is your first time in a gallery opening, ever, you think you were more looking forward to izuku's enthusiasm, than having your face in the local paper.
your smile feels tight across your mouth, as thick and forced as all might's. you hope it doesn't show through either of you on camera.
what would you say your biggest motivator is?
you take a long pause before answering, reminding yourself to rid your speech of any unplanned uh's and um's, and when what you've recited slips off your tongue, you can hear the words crashing into the hardwood below. shattering.
"the truth is that i wouldn't be here without the support of my best friend—"
(in the movies, this is when izuku would come bursting through the gallery doors, sweaty and disheveled in a suit jacket too large for his shoulders despite how broad they've become. people would be awed by the sight of him, glittering in the remnants of his emerald lightning, and he would turn to find you across the floor and he'd smile sheepishly, apologetically, and say—)
"the parking y've got here is shit."
but it's not izuku. it's bakugou.
it's impossible to have grown up with one and not the other, but—where izuku was quirkless—you were a girl, and that made you even more detestable. you weren't invited to any of his sleepovers or birthday parties at the arcade, and his nose always wrinkled at the sight of you and your pink butterfly clips, the dresses your mother loved to doll you up in.
even now, you see him and a strike of fear jolts your heart, instinctive, after watching the beat-down your best friend endured for so long. the only thing that softens him in this moment, for the first time, is the black, mock turtleneck he's wearing, and the bouquet of pale red carnations in his hand.
immediately, the interested party in front of your exhibition is stolen by him, dynamight, though his face twists hideously as they make to crowd him. you know that look, all too well, and you steel yourself for the bite of his words as he snaps at them.
"alright, alright, get the fuck outta my face before i blast all this frilly art shit to hell."
your anger spikes, fed by his own, though you can feel yourself shrinking behind the red-hot look he gives you, snuffed out as quickly as you'd caught ablaze. why, you wonder, why of all people would it have to be him? if this is izuku's way of apologizing, you'd rather have struggled through the event alone.
he stomps when he walks, like an overgrown child, and when he comes to stand in front of you and your small display, he doesn't even offer the flowers he's holding. instead he considers your work with a frown, eyes darting to and fro without so much as an inkling of enthusiasm. and then he takes in you, too—the soft cotton sweater you're wearing, the way you cup the sleeves with your fingers—with just as much disinterest.
and then he says, "thought you were s'pposed to have five pieces."
you were, but you and your nerves pushed your final painting to the last minute, and then you couldn't get any of the colors right, nor the movement. it was choppy and ugly and you hated it—and so you'd just gone without.
but you're not going to tell him that.
"what are you doing here?"
again, his face twists, as if he's sucking on a lemon. "doesn't exactly sound like a 'thank you', for showing up to your—whatever the hell it is."
"it's an art show, don't act dumb," you frown as he sucks his teeth and turn your stare to the flowers, how they're already wilting. petals drooping. your eyes sting as you look back up at him. "where's—"
"the hell do you think?"
it's not his fault, you tell yourself—but your anger has gone, blown out with the wind. the loneliness that always comes after letdowns like these joins you, faithful in its ache. you wrap your arms around yourself and step back further from him, forcing yourself to look away, at the other artists, so that maybe he won't see the gloss in your eyes.
it surprises you, what he says next: "...shitty nerd would be here if he could."
"i know," you say, defensive suddenly, like you always are with him when it comes to izuku. the bite in your tone deepens his frown and he, too, eyes the flowers. he holds them up wordlessly, handing them off to you with more care than you could have ever expected from him. "thank you for bringing these," you murmur.
bakugou shrugs, shoulders hiking up in a way that is as foreign to you as the light pink dust settling over his cheekbones. "don't know shit about flowers, so. whatever. congrats, i guess."
you frown again, brow crinkling. "but—izuku knows, doesn't he? he told you what to get, right?"
"what?" bakugou's nose twists, suddenly seven years old and offended by your proximity. "ain't talked to the fucker all night, just heard the call over the radio 'fore i left."
"wait, what?" you blink and take a step towards him, without thinking, and the action has him rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. cheeks darker, you think, in the low ambient light. "how—did you know to come then?"
and when he looks back at you, eyes molten and metallic, you think it's maybe not offense in his stare, but something else you've never seen on him. "nerd's been talkin' about it all week." he shrugs, and what he says next feels like an answer to more than just this question, here. "came on my own."
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osamusriceballs · 9 months
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Last-Minute Plans
Ushijima x fem reader
Warnings: NSFW (cockwarming, rather soft)
Words: ~ 1,5 k
About: Wakatoshi got a ring for you, and he needs to make sure it fits.
A/n: Happy Birthday to our beloved Wakatoshi-kun~
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"It fits,"
he mumbles with a sigh of relief, one he hadn't realized he was holding. He looks contently at the jewelry now adorning your ring finger.
Ushijima knows that he's late with this. He should have attempted this plan a long time ago; he despises last-minute actions. Lately, however, you've insisted on waiting until he returns home late from practice due to extended training sessions just before the crucial match, making it impossible for him to secretly slip that ring onto your finger to see if it fits. He's aware he hasn't been giving you the time you deserve lately, but he's determined to make it up as soon as he can. He intends to spoil you as soon as the match is over and his schedule finally allows him to have more free time, treating you like the princess you are.
He had nearly abandoned the idea of trying the ring on your finger. He considered simply hoping for the best, planning to alter the ring quickly after proposing if it didn't fit. He knows you wouldn't have minded, but he wanted this moment to be perfect. The first difficulty he had encountered, however, was that you had rings in various sizes in your jewelry box- probably for different fingers, but even after sorting through them, he was still not convinced that he chose the right size.
Relief washes over him as he sees the ring fitting comfortably, and for a short moment, he envisions your future together. He dreams of having you sleep beside him every night, of going on the vacation you've always dreamed of, and of giving you the beautiful wedding ceremony you've always wanted. He's already asked Tendou to be his best man and informed his parents of his plans. He even decided to send his father a notice that his son will be getting married soon—hopefully.
The ring looks stunning on your hand. It's noticeable yet subtly elegant. He's confident you'll love it; you've often praised his taste, describing him as simple in his choices, which you adore.
His gaze drifts to your peaceful sleeping form. You must be exhausted not to have woken up yet. Normally, you'd wait until he returns or awaken when he quietly lies down beside you, an act he's yet to master. You'd always greet him with a tender kiss, a gesture he cherishes most during his days and misses the most when he's away. Yet, you sleep soundly, your face soft, breathing steady. You're wearing one of his shirts, the old Shiratorizawa jersey you claim is the comfiest—adorable on you, he agrees.
He's fairly certain you're wearing only flimsy panties beneath, but he'll take his sweet time tomorrow to explore every inch of your body.
"Toshi," your sleepy voice pulls him from his daydreams, and he quickly hides the ring, clutching your hand in his. You stir, turning towards him, brows furrowing as you reach out blindly.
"Y/n, go back to sleep. It's late," he murmurs in a soothing tone, knowing you find his voice calming.
"I missed you," you groan, squinting your eyes as you try to make out his face in the dimly lit room.
"I missed you too," he replies, smiling softly and leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips. You smile in return, bringing your free hand to his cheek, a bit clumsily—almost slapping his face, but he doesn't mind; he is simply happy having you close.
"You haven't shaved today," you mumble as you caress his cheek. He hums in response. "I forgot. Does it bother you?"
"No, it doesn't. But you never forget to shave. What was on your mind today?"
You, he thinks, but for once, he refrains from sharing his thoughts. He needs to distract you, to take back the ring unnoticed. How you haven't noticed it so far surprises him.
"I was thinking about…" he begins, his voice trailing off, unsure how to respond without you getting suspicious.
"Wakatoshi, come to bed. You seem really tired," you yawn, and he suddenly knows what he needs to do.
Ushijima leans down to kiss you again, this time deepening the kiss with more passion. He feels your response, your body arching into his touch, your lips moving in sync with his.
"Toshi," you're already breathless after a few kisses, and he finally feels your hand relax, fingers intertwining with his with the metal still on your finger. He typically holds your hand more firmly, but now he keeps his grip gentle, ensuring you don't feel the ring on your finger. With his free hand, he traces the hem of your shirt, his fingers gliding beneath the fabric, encountering the softness of your skin.
"Want you, but I'm tired," you whisper against his lips, prompting him to nuzzle against your neck. "Should I pleasure you? Should I make you feel full?" You moan softly and weakly nod, your eyes barely open in the dark room. Unbeknownst to you, a wave of relief washes over him. This may not be going exactly as he planned, but making love to you with the ring already on your finger is better than he could have imagined.
He quickly runs through potential scenarios in which he could smoothly slide the ring off your finger, deciding to position himself behind you while maintaining a hold on your hand in front of your body. Shifting his body weight, he maneuvers behind you until his chest presses against your back. He skillfully settles beneath the blanket without releasing your hand, making sure not to tighten his grip around your fingers. His lips find your neck, where he places the gentlest kisses against your skin, earning the softest, most beautiful moans from your lips. His hips begin to rhythmically move against your backside, and he feels how he hardens in his pants.
You contently hum while you lean into his touch, raising one leg to allow him to slip his thigh between yours. "Feels good," you murmur as he starts a grinding motion against your pussy. He feels his growing need, a nearly instinctive response to your body. His earlier suspicion about you wearing only his shirt and panties appears accurate; that much he notices when his shorts ride up and his bare thigh grinds against your cunt. As much as he wants the feeling of your bare skin against his, he knows that undressing might raise too much suspicion. Instead, he guides his free hand downward, gently tracing circles against your clothed center.
"You're so perfect. So beautiful. I love you so much," he whispers into your ear, causing you to shudder in his arms. Your grip on his hand tightens, while your other hand softly clutches the sheets. He understands your needs. Grateful that he's still wearing the soft shorts, he pushes them down slightly, quickly freeing his cock.
"Should I use some lube?" he asks, concern lacing his voice, worried about hurting you since he hasn't fully prepared you yet—a truly challenging task when ensuring your hand remains held and he can only use one hand properly.
"Think I'm wet enough," you mumble, and he dips two fingers between your folds to confirm, and he is rewarded with enough arousal to forget about his worries.
As much as he wants to ravish you right now, he knows you would probably drift off to sleep if he makes love to you tenderly—so that's precisely what he does. He gently spreads your legs further with his thigh, allowing his cock to rest between your legs. It has almost become a routine for him to set aside your panties and gradually ease his cock inside you- a practice that you often do after he comes home late from his practice sessions.
A breathy moan escapes your lips at the stretch, and he feels his own body tensing at the sensation of your soft walls around him. He continues to push until he's fully inside of you. You always take him so well—it feels breathtaking to be buried deep inside you. He still hopes you'll succumb to sleep in this embrace, even though he's surely wide awake himself.
"Feels good," you hum, your breathing gradually returning to a steady rhythm. He pulls you closer, inhaling the soothing flowery scent of your hair- a scent that always brings him comfort and calms his mind when he can't seem to rest. You might not fully grasp how much he loves you—how every fiber of his being yearns for you, how he wishes for you to be happy and to be his. This is precisely why he plans to propose to you tomorrow and to place the ring back on your finger. You wouldn't refuse him on his birthday, would you?
"Sleep well, my love."
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coffinpal · 1 year
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named after country singers, the teenage mutant hillbilly turtles!
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