#domesticated.... smh

[candycorncrave]

Eepy....

[hatsukeii]

fragrance: by the fireplace, replica / timeskip!ushijima wakatoshi x reader

notes: pink pepper (top), chestnut accord (heart), vanilla (base)

description: embers of burning firewood, billowing smoke and flushing warmth

disclaimer(s): N/A

wc: 1.06k

warning(s): big fat super domestic makeout!!!!! slightly touchy so ig suggestive?? not sure but i think ushiwaka might be a little ooc at times oops... IDC this took THREE FUCKING REDOS im TIRED

Wakatoshi has always wanted a fireplace. The prospect of burning firewood crackling in a dimly lit room seeming like some infinitely gentle blanket is what he confesses to you in bed with his back pressed up against your chest, your hands squeezing and massaging at the knots in his shoulders.

"It would be nice, I like the smell of firewood." His head tilts back to meet your gaze, and you giggle, fingers pressing meitculously into the flesh of his back. The mattress dips when you squeeze a spot, just in the curve that connects his neck and his shoulders, as he finally loosens up with a content sigh, the tension in his body released in an instant.

"Fixed it?"

"Fixed it."

Wakatoshi smiles, leaning back into you until his entire body is sprawled on top of yours. He takes your hand, wrapped around his torso, and holds it tight against the little area of his chest that his heart occupies. His hair is a mess of olive green on your chest, disheveled as you run your other hand through it, pressing your fingers into his scalp and rubbing strands against each other between the pads of your fingertips. His heart beats steadily beneath your palm, and he sighs in satisfaction.

"What would you ever do without me?"

He breathes out a chuckle at your question, bringing your hand from his chest to his lips. His thumb plays with your knuckles, and your hand in his hair crawls down to his jaw, fingers tracing nothings into his cheek instead. You feel Wakatoshi's weight shift, rolling around to press his chest flush with your torso, his head resting in the dip of your ribcage. For somebody who wants a fireplace for the smell of firewood, he sure encapsulates it already, toasty spices and woody chestnuts filling your senses when he pulls himself up for a kiss.

Wakatoshi's father once told him what his name meant, to be young and to be sharp. Wakatoshi trains and plays with a wildfire in his eyes, smashes hits through opposing teams with blazing flames coursing through his body. Scalding passion, burning diligence, so hot that surrounding air burns away into suffocating smoke.

Yet his lips meet yours like the crackling of wood in a fireplace, nibbling at you softly like occasional sparks that fly out when things run a little too hot. The burning sting of his hands hitting leather volleyballs is nothing but a dull glow of warmth that emanates from his palms, spreading to your face from his fingers that push strands of hair from your forehead. His droning exhale sends tremors through your body, and when he parts his lips against yours, you can feel his fingers rolling and rubbing at the hem of his shirt that drapes over your frame.

Greedy, wanting more, like the radiating heat of fire that spreads across a cold room.

Your waist takes the shape of his palm when his hand slithers its way beneath your shirt, drawing circles into your skin. His knee presses into the mattress between your legs, holding himself up just enough to give your chest room to heave up and down in rhythmic rises and falls. His hand squeezes the flesh of your waist, the cold promise ring on his finger sending a jolt up your body. It pulls a sharp inhale from you, and rips a stutter from Wakatoshi's throat. The kind of stutter that begs for your lips to stay on his, and for your heart to push even harder against his own, until he's sure that they will never separate. A feverishly lovesick stutter, so much so that the heat of Wakatoshi's fire is spilling everywhere, with nothing to contain it.

When your hand joins his beneath your shirt, two rings come together with a metallic clink as your fingers meet Wakatoshi's, holding them tight between your knuckles. They follow his hand to the grooves of your ribcage, his thumb pushing gently into the underside of your chest. When he swallows the sigh of his name that escapes your lungs, Wakatoshi thinks that this must have been what he was made for. His fingers were made to swipe lines and etch shapes into your skin, his legs made to trap you in his embrace, his mouth made to press against yours for as long as you please.

He almost whines when your head pushes upwards, before detaching from him to breathe. Your other hand pulls his head towards you, his pulse pumping into your palm as you press your lips into his jaw, peppering kisses down to his neck. He hums at the sensation, lowering his body onto yours as he nuzzles his face into the pillow beside your head. Your fingers run through his hair, relishing in the softness of the strands that slip between your knuckles. His chest is flush against yours, head turning to press his nose against the side of your neck, where his mumbles send tingles down your spine as your hand shifts to hold his head close to you.

"Can't live without you. I love you."

In the darkness of your room, all that remain are Wakatoshi's soft exhales into your pulse as he drifts to sleep, one arm inside your shirt and the other laid above your head. You absentmindedly push a kiss into his head, and he shifts in his slumber, his lips curling into a serene smile. Beneath his eyelids, fleeting images of you pass by. The first time you cry out his first name instead of his last, the first time his lips learn of yours, the first time his blazing sharpness is mellowed out for something gentler. He watches you like some vintage film, shoved into the depths of his heart, not to be seen by any other eyes but his own.

"I love you too, Toshi. So much."

Wakatoshi is a wildfire, smoke and ash rising from his feet, sending people running from his blaze. You are the only person daring enough to be engulfed by his radiance, only to find that his inferno is mellow as a candle on a shelf, sweet as toasted vanilla pods, gentle as a paintbrush drawing outlines on a blank canvas. And although you're still open to getting the fireplace that Wakatoshi has always wanted, you think he's warm enough to beat out a fire any day.

author's note:

guys i really hope i did domestic ushiwaka justice because this took way too long to write up and i don't know why :( i legit had to rewrite like three whole times and i was about to smash my head into my laptop trying to keep going because im in a BLOCK it's super annoying BUT i needed ushiwaka brainrot and this was my take LOLOL

guys i love ushiwaka sm :(

anyways tags!!

@staraxiaa @chuuya-brainrot @hiraethwa @akaakeis @iiwaijime @fiannee @afyrian @catsoupki

ok love u guys see u next fic bye bye

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

The girls are fighting

[rosavatar]

"Be sure to rest, Jinshi-sama."

[spotaus]

I am begging on my knees that Tumblr posts this. It has no audio but I cannot send it from my computer to phone and I want it archived lmao-

[lavenoon]

@naffeclipse cat trapped him yet again (if he won't rest I'll make him)

*self insert Aster is not a girl (he/ she)

og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic!

[hualian]

one of the reasons I love hualian SO much is that they're just these dudes who happen to be a God and a Ghost King but all they want to do is hang out at Puqi Shrine, cook and clean, see their friends, fall in love with each other more and more - essentially just lead the most simple, uneventful lives ever and I think that's pretty neat

[triglycercule]

less of horrordust eating face and killer watches more of them mauling eachother. also killer watches

[peatchoune]

Getting ready for one long evening 🌹

[croifox]

Something about Human Domestication Guide, Liu Cixin's Three Body Problem, and a rising desire among the alienated reading youth to reject both the moribund liberal ideal of individual liberty and perpetual stasis and the aborted revolutionary socialist hope of collective liberty and forward historical progress in favor of, I don't know, smug cosmic paternalism in which freedom is willfully exchanged for moral comfort

[mrgameman2000]

“Dogs are too pure for us”

“We don’t deserve dogs”

YES WE DO! WE WENT THROUGH A LONG AND SLOW PROCESS OF DOMESTICATED THEM, EVERY BIT OF CUTENESS OR HEROIC ACT OF A DOG HUMANITY EARNED WE ARE THE REASON FOR THAT, DO YOU LIKE HOW CUTE DOGS ARE? YES? WELL DID YOU THINK IT DID IT THEMSELVES?? NO! IT WAS US WE PLAYED GOD AND MADE THESE HEROIC BALLS OF CUTENESS AND WE DESERVE EVERY LAST SECOND!

[vanmarkus]

Wip Wednesday ☔️

Tagged and tagging @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @diazsdimples @honestlydarkprincess @wikiangela @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @watchyourbuck and my darlings @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @jeeyuns mwuahhh 💛✨

Woop woop, here is another snippet from — you guessed it — the mudslide fic. Because I need to keep my head in the game and focus. We are so close people, so close. 🥹

(edit: my focus has been blown to smithereens thanks to seeing Oliver's pretty tits face again and now I'll be a stuttering mess for the rest of the night cuz hoo boy. 😮‍💨 Also, getting to see Kenny twice a day?? Two days in a row?? And giving us Peter content too?? Bless his heart, I'm so glad he's back on social media for real. 🫶)

“You know you don’t have to do that, right?” Eddie walked into the kitchen, shaking his head fondly — if it was for Buck’s benefit or because he just checked on Christopher, he couldn’t tell.

“Mmm?” Buck only turned away from the chopping board long enough to take Eddie in, before continuing to dice the spring onions he had lined up on the counter.

“This. The whole,” Eddie waved an arm around vaguely as he made his way over to the fridge, “cleaning, cooking and homework duty. You don’t have to do any of it. You’re always welcome here, you don’t have to… I don’t know, earn your keep or whatever.”

“I know.” Buck shrugged absentmindedly, his brain already stuck on the ‘always welcome’ part. “I want to.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed as he opened the fridge and pulled out two beers, lifting them questioningly towards Buck and only closing the fridge door after he got a nod of affirmation.

“Besides, I don’t have to earn my keep, I don’t actually live here.” Buck pointed at Eddie with an onion green cockily, before putting it onto the board beside the rest.

“No? Coulda’ fooled me.” Eddie shook his head, his face slightly angled away from Buck, but he caught the tail end of Eddie’s smile anyway. “By the way, after dinner we’re watching the movie with the dragons. Again.”

Buck snorted at the disdain in Eddie’s voice, as he swept all the chopped up veggies into a mixing bowl, while Eddie opened both beers and sat down at the kitchen table.

“Hey, I don’t think we’ve watched it in like... two weeks. Besides,” Buck shrugged with a smile, “it’s kinda cute.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie sighed with the kind of exasperation that only a dad who’s seen the same cartoon for a gazillion times with the running commentary provided by a pre-teen could feel, but Buck knew better.

Eddie would watch one movie for the rest of his life over and over again if it’d make Christopher happy — he knew, because he felt the exact same way.

[spilledmilkfkdies]

INDIVIDUAL WIZARD HEADCANONS (4 / 4)

『 OGRON 』

-) Despite his somewhat cold upbringing he absolutely loves mundane activities with the people he considers his family these days and will schedule things such as movie or game nights every once in a while, under the guise of it being a teambuilding thing. If you consider scrabble teambuilding, sure. Will still pretend he's forced to be there though, especially if an activity is planned by someone else.

-) The amount of assassination attempts this man has survived is almost comical. A compilation of them would still take up an hour or two. He progressively became less phased by them as they went on as well, reacting with a mere sigh to the last few.

-) Horses are his favorite animal with cats a close second, but if he spots a horse and a cat next to each other, you bet the horse has his full attention. Knows how to care for them because his family owned a couple of horses themselves back in the day, his favorite one being his mother's. Ogron didn't learn how to ride one himself until a couple years after he left home.

-) Vain. So very vain. His hair routine takes forever and his skincare even longer. Buttering his pale ass up is unironically one of the quickest ways to get to him. In whatever way. Unfortunately the nature of his magic causes physical distortion to happen more quickly, so he gets fixed up the most frequently.

-) Cannot handle spicy food. It will make him go as red as his hair, cry real tears, no longer be able to breathe through his nose, it's awful. Has threatened people over this and consumed SO much milk. Most lactose tolerant person on the planet.

-) His father's side of the family used to consist of noble and high-ranking magic users, but they all began seeking out human partners to dilute the magical bloodline due to. Prior agreements. With certain "people". Ogron himself would've been forced to marry a human as well, but obviously chose to make an attempt at saving what little remained of the ancient magic roots in his blood instead.

[singlyph]

Presidential alert the girls are fighting

[writeitinsharpie]

i guess dan finally got tired of phil leaving all the cupboard doors open and dying everything sage green :/

[nando161mando]

smh