#like writing such a drabble

[iiryoku]

there are two kinds of people

[softaestluv]

more! | mlist ✎ᝰ.ᐟ

Just thinking about Ghost having a shy, quiet wife. The glaring opposite of Ghost, painted in black and blood while you’re adorned in lace and frills. Smooth skin and delicate flesh, warm eyes and a bashful smile. Soft-spoken and so fucking sweet.

No one else knows about you, or that he’s married, not from lack of wanting people to know he has such a pretty dove waiting for him at home, but because he knows all the men on base would eat you alive.

But one day, he forgets the lunch you made him. It takes everything in you to refrain yourself from driving to base to make sure he has something to eat— you know he doesn’t have the healthiest eating habits.

You choose to message him, something he usually responds fairly quickly to. Always at your beck and call just in case his sweet girl needs him, but he doesn’t answer. Your lips are pinched raw with worry by the time you decide to get in your car.

So, imagine everyone’s surprise when a sergeant interrupts the meeting Ghost’s in— ‘Lieutenant, um, Mrs. Riley is waiting outside for you.’

Ghost is on his feet in an instant, it must be some emergency if you’re there. He rushes to the hallway, everyone else in the room stumbling behind to snoop through the thin crack of the door, see who their big bad Lieutenant is married to.

And there you are, Tupperware container in your manicured hands, white dress covering your frame with matching ribbons and bows in your hair. The look on your face is anxious, right up until you see Ghost, your eyes softening as he approaches you with wide strides despite the fact that he’s twice your size, hulking and threatening.

���Sweet’art, everything okay? You’re not hurt, are you?” He asks, brows furrowing as he does a once over your figure, checking for injury.

You exhale a quiet laugh, “No, baby. You just forgot your lunch, and you didn’t answer your phone so I got worried you would go the whole day without eating.”

He cups your jaw, a smile breaking out on his face. His sergeants are baffled for several reasons— they did not expect their Lieutenant to be married to such a sweet thing, nor had they ever heard their Lieutenant speak in such a soft, hushed tone, never seen him touch something with such care, like you were so fragile in the palms of his hands.

They would’ve thought it was all a joke if it wasn’t for the massive diamond ring on your finger, or the way you pushed deeper into his touch.

“Sorry, dove, just been in a meetin’ all day.”

He stamps a kiss against your lips, lets himself linger just a little longer than he should because he knows the whole room is watching from behind the door.

“Sweetest little wife, aren’t you?”

[soulsforsales]

Imagine Jason Todd and you attending a friend’s party.

You’re laughing, making small talks, looking fire in your fit and Jason; all 6’4 of muscles, scars, and tattoos of him, is just standing beside you with a scowl and looking like he’ll shoot anyone who even breathes wrong. (He’s just terrifying like that.)

And his expression only softens when he looks down at you and his hand doesn’t leave your waist—not once.

I just know people mistake Jason for that kind of toxic, overly possessive, controlling boyfriend because he looks like it.

When in reality, he’s just a big ass puppy who cries when you’re mad, holds you like you’re sacred, cooks for you, pouts when you say no to cuddles, and gets anxious in gatherings if you’re not with him.

And I think that’s everything.

[deathofacupid]

gojo's relationship with sleep was… complicated. he seemed to view it as an optional activity, like flossing or paying taxes. you, on the other hand, considered sleep a sacred ritual, and dragging him to bed felt like trying to convince a hyperactive hummingbird to take a nap.

"psst," he whispered, loud enough to be heard in the next apartment. "hey."

you groaned, pretending to be a particularly heavy sleeper.

"hey," he repeated, poking your shoulder. you swatted his hand away, a silent leave me alone conveyed through the power of sleepy aggression.

"sweetheart. darling. my bestest friend. my favorite person in the entire universe. sugar-plum. chickadee. kitten-kins. schnukapussy."

"what?" you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

"do you want to play a game? like, a card game or something?"

"what?" you repeated, your brain still trying to process the concept of coherent sentences. "it's the middle of the night. why are you awake?"

"i'm bored. my brain won't shut up. it's like a radio stuck between stations."

"and you thought waking me up would fix that? now we're both going to be miserable," you grumbled, turning over.

"…so, about that game?" he asked, sounding genuinely hopeful.

you stared at him, resisting the urge to express your frustration with a well-placed pillow. "this is what happens when you eat a whole bag of candy before bed. you turn into a nocturnal gremlin."

he shrugged. "oops."

"don't 'oops' me. i'm trying to sleep."

"but you're awake now," he pointed out, with infuriating logic.

"that's not the point!" you sighed, pulling the covers over your head.

he gave you a look that said, "please? with a cherry on top?" and, against your better judgment, you caved. you sighed, pulling him closer. "fine. no games. but i'll do the hair thing. the one that makes you sleepy."

he settled against you, all warm and impossibly comfortable. "until i'm asleep?"

"yes," you said, keeping you eyes trained on him. "until you're asleep."

as you ran your hands through his white locks, he was out in minutes, snoring softly. you smiled, finally feeling yourself drift off.

then, just as you were about to fall asleep, your brain decided to stage a revolt. wide awake. you stared at the ceiling, wondering if you could convince gojo to share his ability to function on zero sleep. to say the least, this would be a long night.

[rexhya]

note — i accidentally posted the hcs before i was done! >~<, more anul content :>

✦ ✦

yandere!prince who drives himself mad over every interaction you have with another male, it's an unspoken rule that no one is allowed to look you in the eyes because the clingy bastard has a careful and constant eye watching over you

anul hardly ever lets you out of his sight, he goes, you go, you go, he goes. it's law.

so on the rare cases where he does have to leave your side, safe to say he's more than just a little grumpy. ( he slit the throat of his personal advisor because he was talking to loud )

your just doing you job, the job you were meant to do, cleaning and preparing for a party held for nobles in his upcoming inauguration. anul is obviously dreading this party, his father is being picky about evey little thing and said he'd banish you if he tries to bring you along. (he doesn't actually care he just is waiting patiently for the day he becomes king and his fathers word will mean nothing)

whats worse is theres this insect on his arm, buzzing nosily to him about nothing, the only good thing that actually came from it's mouth was when she asked about you.

"Oh you mean [Name], she's perfect isn't she?" He doesn't wait for a response, Anetha is dying listening to him go on and on and on about you, and she hardly gets it anyway! Your a maid, born from slum and you're hardly that pretty anyway, what did the Prince of Salttion see in you.

She makes a horrible mistake and tries to find out herself.

"Hello m'lady how may I he—" you don't get to finish your sentence before Anethea's gaurds are stomping you into the ground. It's not like you havent been in a situation like this before, but it's the fear of not knowing if you'd be able to escape let alone survive that makes you sob tears into your blood.

You're shoved into a closet before your found, Anul had tore every room apart looking for you ( literally, the door came flying off it's hinges as you fell to the ground unconscious. ) and sees pure, blood raging red when he cradleds your head in his lap. not even his father tries to reprimand him for his attentiveness to you, who ever had done this would pay in blood.

He can't control his breathing as they cart you away, he's right there with you of course, Anetha watching pleasantly, he catches the look and saves it for later.

When you finally wake up you feel sore, definitely brtter then when you were bloody and hurting in the dank closet but sore nonetheless. Anul is right besides you, his long violet hair wafting on your bed, his face planted into the cushions of the mattress breathing softly. How long had you been out? How long had the prince been here? He certainly didn't look like himself, hair messy, clothes rumpled.

You hesitated for a moment, reaching out to stroke his soft wavy hair, then without warning his jumped up and statched at your wrist. His eyes were bloodshot, (had he been crying, did something else happen while you were out?) and the hold on your wrist was only getting tighter.

"A-Anul, you're hurting me." he lets go in an instant and immediately sits up to hold you in his arms.

"Oh god, I thought you—" he choked and let go to place a kiss on your lips. they were chapped, but warm.

you only blinked, he didn't care that you hadn't kissed him back. "I am going to gut that pig alive you hear me?" he said squeezing your cheeks.

"I am going to peel her insides till they look like confetti alright?" he said desperately, "I failed to protect you, and look what happened. Oh my baby, my poor baby." he cried, kissing your cheeks lettinf his tears fall freely on his face.

"And you [Name], are to never leave my side again, I've already made arrangements for you to sleep with me so it won't be a problem." you flinched at the finality in his words but Anul couldn't tell.

All he could see waa the bruising of your face and a lot of bodies he'd have to dispose of, because he wasn't just going after that noble who'd set you up.

For generations he declared then and there anyone involved (directly or indirectly) in the attempted murder of his wife, would die a shameful and slow death.

[humanjarvis]

you’d been perplexed when sylus had called you in the middle of the day—which was usually his favorite time to rest. 

“can you come to the base, sweetie?” he’d rasped, voice thick with ruined sleep. “i need your help with something.” 

your confusion is all the more reason for you to head to the base. when you arrive, you let yourself in and greet mephisto with a poke on the beak before hurrying to sylus’s bedroom.

“is something wrong?” you breathe, all but barging in. quickly, you scan the room for threats or intruders before your eyes land on the hulking figure in front of you. 

the hulking figure who’s uncharacteristically hunched over his bed, head bent and looking defeated. 

at your voice, he looks up, and you know him well enough to see the relief and slight embarrassment in his ruby eyes. 

“…sylus?” you ask hesitantly, “what’s going on? you should be sleeping right now.” 

“i was asleep,” he agrees with a slow nod. “and then…i ran into a slight problem,” he responds carefully, eyes flitting forlornly to the side of the bed.

curious, you come to stand beside him, placing a hand on his sagging shoulder. it takes a few seconds, but then, you spot it: trapped between the dark oak boards of his bedframe is a small brilliant red gem, glittering slightly in what little sunlight fills the room. 

“are you able to retrieve it?” he asks quietly. “it must have fallen earlier. when you’re not here…i can’t sleep without it.” 

“o…kay?” you reply, your confusion only doubling. taking a moment to study him, you notice the small pout on his face and stroke his slightly mussed hair. “of course i’ll get it. just a sec.” 

a moment later, you’re kneeling down to stick your hand in the bedframe and wiggling your fingers until you feel the crystal’s cool surface. you pull it out in one fluid motion, blow the dust off, and deposit it into sylus’s waiting hand. flashing you a tired, grateful smile, he immediately places it securely under his pillow. 

“there you go!” you chirp, pleased to have helped him. “but…can i ask something? why didn’t you just fish it out yourself?” 

avoiding your gaze, he clears his throat before he speaks.

“…my hands were too big.”

[hellishattempt]

nanami kento comes home on a saturday afternoon, hands full of groceries and hair freshly cut. in the distance, he hears his precious wife humming along to her favorite soundtrack. you must not have heard him come in. he smiles to himself, setting the groceries on the counter, but not unloading them. that can wait. right now, he wants to hold you.

he slips out of his shoes, padding quietly to the laundry room where you are folding towels. you have your back to him, headphones lodged in your ears. as nanami gets closer, the music bleeding from your headphones becomes audible. he chuckles softly. no matter how many times he tells you it's bad for your ears, you insist on listening to your music at just below full volume.

snaking his arms around your waist, you jump at the sudden contact. nanami presses his chest against your back as you take out your headphones, leaning into his touch. you sway in silence for a moment, nanami resting his chin on your shoulder. when you turn to face him, your expression changes at the sight of his hair.

"your hair," you state dumbly. "you cut it."

"yes," your husband muses. "is there something wrong with it?"

"no, no!" you assure nanami, studying his hair. "i just wasn't expecting it. you normally have me do it, which you know i don't mind doing."

"i know, but i didn't want to bother you on your cleaning day."

your expression softens at his words. nanami, your ever loving, ever caring husband, always thinking about you before himself. you reach one hand up, smoothing the hair down the back of his neck. as you bring your hand up, the freshly cut hair pricks your palm, and nanami lets out a low hiss.

you immediately apologize, pulling away. "did that hurt?"

"yes, but it's okay. it felt... good," nanami confessed. "... do it again. please." his voice is thick and demanding, and you obey without hesitation.

this time, you use just the tips of your fingertips to graze his undercut, beginning at the base of his neck. his breathing quickens as you continue to to run your hands through his undercut, going up and down, switching from one hand to both, thumbs caressing the sides of the cut. the laundry room fills with his melodic whimpers and faint groans. his eyes are shut tight, teeth digging into his bottom lip.

"fuck..." he cusses lowly.

"you okay, nani?" you giggle, stopping momentarily. his eyes flash open, pupils blown. "kento?"

"let's go to the bedroom," he insisted, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the master bedroom. you barely have time react before nanami pushes you back on to the bed, practically ripping your leggings off.

"kento, what are you doin-" you try to protest, his hands clamping around your wrist and bringing them down to grip his hair. his head disappears between your leg, lips latching around your clit. involuntarily, your fingers tighten around his sharp undercut. he moans into your cunt, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body.

from then on, nanami kento always got an undercut.

[neoheros]

sakusa knows he’s a bad date.

he’s quiet, timid, doesn’t speak much, and asks all the wrong questions at the wrong time.

he’s not very good at eye contact and a lot of the things he wants to say he feels he can’t say at all either.

(partially due to the feeling that everything he says when he talks to you ends up embarrassing him, and partially due to the fact that talking to you for long periods of time make him tongue tied).

(not that he’d ever admit that).

despite all that though, he does know the basics when it comes to going on dates:

he buys you flowers (and forgets it by his doorway), he opens the car door for you (and apologizes when it almost hits you as he opens it), and he makes dinner reservations at the restaurant you mentioned to him in passing three days ago (he did a good job with this one).

so yes, him being a bad date is not unbeknownst to him. quite the opposite in fact, it’s not only something he knows about himself, but it’s also something that he thinks about all the time.

or at least, all the time ever since he’s met you.

that’s how the two of you end up here — the evening of your first (and probably last) date, sitting on a porch step of an empty building, a bloodied handkerchief filled with crushed up snow pressed against sakusa’s left cheek, and a few missing buttons from your favorite winter coat.

sakusa always knew he was a bad date, but he never thought he would be this bad.

the plan had been simple: get you flowers, open the door for you, drive you to the restaurant you liked. sakusa had this game-plan of his memorized ever since you said yes to him four — now five — days ago.

he wrote it on a piece of paper, step by step, and kept it in his wallet sleeve in case he forgets, he repeated it to himself three times in the mirror this afternoon before he left the house to pick you up, and he said it to himself one last time in the car before texting you that he’d arrived.

he memorized it.

and still, he messed it up.

the streets are empty and the evening is quiet.

“sorry … for this.”

his words feel like they’ve been the first to be spoken all night.

on the snowy concrete just below your feet, there’s a few drops of blood making its presence known loudly against the whiteness of the snow, the drops scatter sporadically, and near it, there’s a button or two from your coat.

you sit next to sakusa on the cold steps, it’s a quiet night, and it’s not snowing anymore, but the soft bed of the cold flurry it left behind made for a beautiful evening.

you let your head fall slightly on his shoulder, “for what?”

you can feel him stiffen immediately under your touch, and he coughs, shy, and looks to the side.

it makes you smile a little bit — his efforts of hiding his expressions — it’s not like you can see him anyway with that big makeshift ice-pack covering his face.

“sorry for the bad date.” he clears his throat, more clearly now, a little louder too, but his tone almost sounds disappointed. “… and sorry for ruining your coat.”

you lift your head up from his shoulder, frowning, and you turn to face him, “it’s not a bad date.”

he doesn’t say anything to that. instead, he keeps his head turned slightly away from you, but his shoulders fall a bit when you move away from him.

“if anything, i should be the one apologizing.” you mutter lowly, “i’m the reason you got hurt.”

sakusa huffs slightly. a second pausing in the air as he refuses to return the look you give him, and finally, he puts down the “ice pack” from his cheek, and looks at you.

his cheek is scratched lightly, nothing too deep, just a red mark that’ll probably resolve itself in a few days, but his lower lip though — the culprit of the blood stained snow — is undeniably busted, still bleeding slightly, and making him wince at the sudden loss of pressure.

“don’t say stupid things.” he tells you, and if it makes him sound cold, he swears he’s not trying to be.

he just doesn’t know what else there is to say.

the truth is — it is a bad date.

he forgot your flowers, almost hit you with the car door, and now, the two of you are missing your dinner reservation because he got himself injured twenty minutes into the night.

it’s not fair, he thinks. half the things he wants to say to you, he can’t. half the things he wants to do, he messes up.

you make him fumble on his words, tongue tied, speechless, literally. you make him write things down on notes so he won’t forget them or practice on bathroom mirrors or worry in his car outside your doorstep.

he is the most capable man in his team, he is the sharpest, the most composed, his teammates and coach all count and look up to him.

but for some reason, one night with you, and it all washes away.

he doesn’t know what to say to you, he forgets things, and he falls face first flat on the hard concrete ground twenty minutes into your first date.

don’t say stupid things.

“you really won’t let me take you to the hospital?” you put your hand on his knee, turning even more to your side so you can face him better.

you have half a mind to put your other hand on his injured cheek but you don’t want to hurt him more than how he already does.

“it’s not as bad as it looks.” and as he says that, he winces, the gust of wind suddenly hitting his busted lip a testament to his bad luck tonight.

sakusa wants to kick himself, if there ever would be an appropriate time to act cooler than how he actually was, it would definitely not be now.

you don’t look so convinced, but sakusa wouldn’t know, he’s still only limiting himself to looking at you briefly before shifting his glance to something behind you or beside you or above you.

“hm. and it doesn’t hurt?” you cross your arms.

he shakes his head, “no. it doesn’t.” (it does.)

you raise a brow, “and you wouldn’t happen to be lying to me right now so i don’t take you to the emergency room?”

he shakes his head again, “i’m not.” (he is.)

you give him a look.

listen — sakusa already knows that he’s a bad date, but come on! he has been planning on asking you to dinner with him since the first week he’s known you, he’s been worrying about this evening since the second you agreed to it, and he’s been kicking himself in the head ever since the night began.

he’d rather bleed out on this disgustingly dirty porch step than admit that he’s a date so bad he can turn an evening meant for dinner into a night at the emergency room.

he doesn’t want you to think that he can be so bad like that. (is it too soon to ask you out for dinner again?)

you still look frustrated at his answers. but at least, he’s looking at you now.

you let out a big sigh, shoulders falling, and suddenly, you clap your hands together loudly as you straighten up.

“then i have an idea.” you say, and sakusa furrows his brows at the sudden change in the atmosphere.

you give him a prompting grin. “heads or tails.”

and it catches him so off guard, he says aloud, “what?”

you dig for a coin in your coat, “i’ll flip a coin and if it lands on heads, we go to the emergency room, no arguments, no fusses, no nothing.”

he frowns at that.

“but.” you tell him, and your grin gets wider as you show him the dime laid out on your palm, “if it’s tails, we go to my apartment, and i’ll try to fix you up there.”

his frown falls almost immediately into something else.

one night out with you and he’s already bleeding heavily and injured, and now you wanna take him back to your apartment?

were you trying to kill him?

“heads or tails, omi.”

he blinks at your words. and once again, he finds himself saying aloud, “what?”

you shoot him a funny look, your eyebrows slightly raising as your lips curve upward into a crooked smile.

you say, teasing, “if you don’t know; heads is the part of the coin with the head of the person showing on it and tails is the–”

sakusa grumbles loudly, cutting you off mid-sentence, making sure you see him roll his eyes at you, and he nudges you slightly with his foot.

he mutters, albeit under his breath, and he tries to hide it, but you can always tell when he’s smiling, “i know what a goddamned head is.”

you shrug, your grin wider now when you see his mood lighten up a bit.

“do you know what a goddamned tail is?”

sakusa huffs out an amused sigh. the smile on his face a lot more prominent now, and you only wonder slightly if it hurts him when he does it.

his shoulders fall as he’s defeated, “just take me to the emergency room.”

you let out a short laugh and the night doesn’t seem so quiet anymore.

you fall back against his shoulder, “ah, omi, are you just saving the opportunity to be invited into my apartment for our next date?”

there’s a choking sound to be heard in the air.

his face almost feels like it’ll erupt into flames by how casually you just said that, a hot pink hue creeping up from his neck to nose all the way to the tips of his ears. he blames it on the cold, and immediately, he presses the “icepack” back against his cheek.

sakusa stands up suddenly from the porch step, “let’s go now.”

and just like he said, he strides away, faster than what would usually be safe on snow-covered pavement.

“omi, not so fast!” you yell after him, rising from your own seat and following his pace, “you might fall again and hurt the other side of your face and atsumu will think i beat you up on our first date.”

he walks faster.

“i can go to the hospital myself, please don’t follow me.”

“that’s ridiculous! let me take care of you!”

he trips on his feet slightly as you say that and his heart feels like it would’ve fell from his mouth had he not caught himself before falling again.

you really were trying to kill him, weren’t you?

maybe this date doesn’t feel so bad after all.

and, is it too soon if he asks you to come have dinner with him again?

[lilacgaby]

katsuki was red-faced and drunk as hell.

he could barely keep himself up straight, leaning against the wall of the curb that he sat on as midoriya waved to you. "thanks for coming, he wouldn't stop asking for you."

"don't talk about me like that.. damn nerd." katsuki slurred, pointing a threatening finger. in the wrong direction. midoriya laughed quietly, signaling goodbye to you as he took his leave.

"kat," you started, smiling at the pink flush of his cheeks, trying to place a coddling hand on his face but were stopped by him smacking your hand away. "what was that for?!"

"don't touch me! 'got my girl at home." he glared at you from the side, then shut his eyes and turned his face away with a small 'hmmph.'

you laughed, crossing your arms as you decided to play along. "really? but aren't i prettier?" he scoffed, red eyes not even bothering to look at you as he quipped, "fuck no. 's not even a competition. you'll be embarrassed you even-," he hiccuped, "said that shit when she gets here."

you gasp in mock offense, leaning down with a hand over your chest. "that's so rude! are you sure you don't wanna take a closer look?"

"get out of my--" his glazed eyes opened to glare at you once again, but his words got stuck in his throat as he looked you over. your streetlit features took a second to register in his mind, before a small, closed eye smile came over his face. "hey.. babe you got here." he said lowly after a moment. he grabbed one of your hands and held it up to his face, "missed 'ya. some fuckin' idiot was here earlier. so annoying."

"oh yeah? what'd they say?"

"i don't even remember." he started to fall asleep, but you hurriedly helped him up to the car first. he started sleepily muttering things to you as you buckled him in. "y'know you're the damn prettiest.. and the sweetest thing i've known.."

compared to how he was normally, he just wouldn't stop talking. not like you minded though, it was really feeding your ego to have him call you things like the most beautiful girl in the world.

as you helped him to bed, helping him change out of the clothes he'd wore in the bar first, you were cut off by him pulling you into bed beside him, caging you in his arms as he put his head on top of yours.

"stay." is all he said before he knocked out. but you did stay, not like you could've ran away from the tightened arms around you anyways.

tags. @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @exoticrasin @lavendarstarz @hisonlyobsession @i-the-fluffo @cookielovesbook-akie @frosted-flakes @irenne-stans

[xoxojisu]

MINE !

synopsis: when a guy confesses to you on valentine's day, how will katsuki react?

notes: request here! i like how it's not 'be mine,' just 'you're mine' lol bc thats so katsuki. again w the unofficialbf!katsuki agenda like always

you weren’t expecting much out of valentine’s day.

you liked all the pink everywhere, sure. the flowers, the hearts, the whole aesthetic. but you weren’t holding your breath for a grand romantic gesture or a super hot valentine or anything.

you thought maybe you, mina, and sato would make some chocolates to give to friends. a fun, holiday-sprit thing to do with your good friends, no big deal.

of course, you'd wear a cute pink top because, well, why not? it’s valentine’s day, and you'd get to embrace the theme and look super cute!

and, also of course, you’d give katsuki some chocolate, like you've done every year since you were like four.

it wasn’t anything new. it was just.. something you did. a little exchange between the two of you. you'd make his differently than the friend-chocolate you'd make for everyone else. he preferred dark chocolate to milk, cocoa powder over condensed milk, and you always made it cute and packaged it nicely. in return, he’d always give you something back on white day, something he made just for you. it had become a tradition. a small, personal ritual.

but, other than that, because you were #singleasf, valentine’s day was just another fun hearts-themed day. you liked it, but it was nothing to make a big deal of.

you definitely weren’t expecting someone to walk up to you, red-faced and nervous, holding a little box of chocolates with your name on it.

“i know this is kinda random,” the guy says, laughing awkwardly. “but i’ve liked you for a while, y/n, and i figured if there's any day to do this, it should be valentines day, right? and-"

at some point, you start zoning out. ..who was this guy again? he looked vaguely familiar, but honestly, if he didn't know your name and wasn't confessing to you in real time, you would have said you didn't know him if prompted.

"-i think you're really pretty! and, um, your quirk is really impressive. and, like, i know we haven't talked much, but-"

you wonder how you're going to respond. what is the kindest way to say "who the fuck are you, no" to someone confessing to you in person. you consider saying yes solely because you respect his courage and would feel bad saying no.

"-so, um, would you please go out on a date with me?"

you consider asking him for his name, but that feels a little rude for someone who just poured his heart out.

before you can even answer, a hand appears on your waist.

a very familiar hand.

it's katsuki.

“she's mine,” he says flatly. no hesitation, no stutter.

you blink. that's news to you. the guy does too.

“oh,” he says, awkward. “i didn’t know that-”

“yeah. now you do.”

the guy backs off quickly, and you turn around, heart pounding despite your cool exterior.

“so… yours?” you ask, voice slightly teasing. "didn't realize you were so possessive, katsuki."

"'m not possessive." katsuki’s jaw is tense. “it's just.. that dumbass musta been dropped on his head when he was a baby. you're obviously mine."

katsuki's face gets close to yours. "you've always been mine."

"hey, don't be mean." you scold mockingly. "how was he even supposed to know? it's not like you told him beforehand. and we're not.."

"dating" is what you want to say, but you bite your tongue.

neither of you comment on the fact that he called you his and you went with it. or that his hand is still on your waist, or that his face was maybe an inch away from yours.

that's nothing unusual, though. you've been dancing around each other like this for years.

he scoffs, rubbing the back of his neck like it physically hurts to show that he has any emotion other than hot, fiery rage. (as if you haven't seen him curled up on your lap whining for you to scratch his head.)

“i shouldn't have to,” he mutters. “i mean… i spend every damn second with you. you wear my hoodie. i walk you to your dorm. for fuck's sake, we fucking cuddle on more nights than we don't,” he stops himself, groaning.

“fuck. you’re mine. you know it, everyone knows it, and he should damn well know it too.”

your breath catches. “katsuki-"

"don't listen to any other fuckin' dumbass." katsuki growls, suddenly pulling you close. "you're mine."

your heart races and your cheeks get hot. it's not just the proximity that's getting you. you're close all the time. it's the tone. the glint in his eyes. he's jealous, whether he'd ever admit it or not, and fuck, you're almost ashamed to admit how hot you think it is.

you smile, throwing your arms lazily around his neck.

"i'm yours."

masterlist rbs + comments super duper appreciated!

[callmeizukunotdeku]

one of my favorite brands of Jason and Tim angst is when Jason realizes that Bruce had been treating Tim like his replacement, not as Robin, but as Jason

Robin's a mantel, a mask that gets passed down from one brother to the next

Jason is a person. full stop.

just,,, something about making Jason's thinking shift from "Bruce replaced me by getting another son" to "Bruce found a kid that looks like me and he acts like the kid is me"

and Jason trying to bring this up with Tim, who knows better and expects worse just replying "at least, now that you're back, he's stopped calling me by your name"

and Jason is like "no, no, you should be asking so much more from him; this is Batman for god's sake"

"yeah" Tim agrees "I asked him to keep me around even though he doesn't need me any more. he seemed to be fine with the idea"

"need you? tim that's a fully grown adult he doesn't need you to do anything for him"

and Tim just gives him a you haven't seen the half of it look and Jason remembers that technically he's right

tim didn't need to do anything, he needed to be someone. and now that Jason is back, he doesn't need to be anyone anymore

but how much of himself did he lose trying to become someone else?

[tokoyamisstuff]

Random thought how good do you think each invincible variant would be at eating 😺 is there any of them who would be an actual munch

18+ explicit content

Sis, don't- it's not worth it...

Other variants under the cut!

Omnivincible is more skilled than most of them. I just feel like he's got a mature approach and wouldn't just mindlessly delve in like some horny teenager.

He'd take his sweet time, enjoying himself without necessarily wanting something in return. In general he takes great pride in causing you pleasure. Is also pretty creative. After all his strenght allows him to eat you out in positions you didn't even know were possible.

Thought you can only come once at a time? He'll prove you otherwise.

Movincihawk constantly brags about his 'superior technique' but at the bottom line he's not all that good at it, sorry.

It's not like he isn't skilled, but he's pretty selfish and impatient. Any kind of foreplay is not a priority for him in general, he likes to go straight to the point.

Fucks pretty well to make up for it though.

Sinister Mark acts like he's doing you a favor, but with how eager he buries himself between your legs it's evident to say he enjoys this as much - if not even more than - you.

This man pins your thighs apart and eats you out like a man starving. Your taste drives him fucking crazy, so yes it could happen that he bites down harder than he intended to.

Likes to eat you out on your period. No I will not elaborate.

Striped/Target Invincible is super vocal during the whole thing. His grunts and groans vibrate against your folds, he doesn't even notice the effect you have on him.

Hope you're ready for the whole range of dirty talk, mostly degrading but occasionally throwing in words of acknowledgement. Tells you how this is your place - beneath him, completely at his mercy.

Uses his fingers better than his tongue, but is fairly good at both. The combination will send you straight to heaven.

No Goggles Invincible is probably the biggest tease on the entire planet.

This man will push you to your absolute limits, reducing you to a whining, moaning, begging puddle of lust. But he's got no mercy, prolonging your sweet torture for as long as he can - you're only allowed to cum if he says you're done.

With him the thin line between pain and pleasure is blurred into a mixture of pure overstimulation, but goddamn it's worth it.

Viltrumite Mark isn't familiar with earth's customs of intimacy. In their culture, canonically, they solely have sex for procreation. Though we never saw Debbie complaining about Nolan either, so I'm confident he can learn.

Gets the hang of it pretty fast, and quickly grows insateable with this new form of closeness he never got to experience before. He's an absolute mess, almost breaking the bedframe as he pathetically humps the mattress, wanting more more more of you.

Needs lots of cuddles and to be told he did a good job afterwards, pretty please.

Prisoner Mark was in solitary confinement for over a year - prepare to be destroyed. R.I.P.

He'll dive in between your legs and won't leave this place until he's got his fill of you, which could take him a while so get cozy.

Not an inch of your body is left untouched, as if he intents to memorize every detail, just in case you'd slip from his grasp once again.

Be prepared to cum until your body gives up. Man's got to make up for the time he spent away from you.

Unmasked Mark is very gentle, almost cautious in his efforts as if you were a fragile flower one needed to properly care for or it'd wither. He still can't fully believe you're here with him, so he's extra anxious about doing something wrong.

You'll slowly and sensually be guided towards your orgasm, his eyes never leaving yours as he reverently observes your every reaction.

Expect some premium aftercare!

Fully Masked Invincible knows you inside and out, has memorized all the weak spots that make you sing for him. He is completely and utterly devoted to your pleasure, maybe even a little too eager in his efforts since he tends to forget himself in the process.

To him your body is a temple meant for worship, so you'd relentlessly get showered in praise and compliments while he explores your body.

Will initiate at every given opportunity, but never pushes it. He just wants to make you happy, really!

[softaestluv]

Simon Riley who is just a little confused when he receives a drunk phone call from you one night, his sweet sergeant, hiccuping and giggling over your words— ‘Hi—Sir, could you come pick me up—up from the club? ‘m a little drunk.’

But he threw on his sweats anyways, was in his car without a second thought. Shoving random strangers out of the way as you clung to his bicep within minutes, trying his best not to push his arm deeper against your soft breasts and stomach.

When the two of you finally made it outside, he’s entirely too relieve to pry himself from your grasps, cool his burning skin in the fresh air. But when his focus finally drifts to your figure, scantily clad, irritation pulses his temples.

“Why the hell did’ya call me? You ain’t got any friends?”

You giggled, slurring over your words as you pushed to your tippy toes, leaning closer to his face, and crossing your hands behind your back.

“You’re my lieutenant, aren’t you? You’re supposed to take care of me.”

[sugugori]

Jason Todd who does not play about his ex at all. Your break up was mutual, too many arguments, not enough communication. Though you still loved each other, you both knew it was for the best. At least for now, because he always knew he’d come back to you eventually. And while you two weren’t exactly on speaking terms, maybe a slight nod if you crossed paths in public (his heart tore open every time), he never misses a chance to watch you from afar. Everyday, if he can. He just needs to make sure you’re safe, he needs that. Doesn’t matter if you’re apart for 6 months or 2 years, that man is never moving on- it’s kind of pathetic. You’re the only person that matters to him, after all- it’s you or nothing.

Exes does not always mean the love is gone, it’s still very much there. In fact, the love is so strong it sits heavy on his chest and crushes his ribs each night he spends away from you. He wants what’s best for you, but he prays that it won’t be much longer until you’re back in his arms.

After a while though, he starts to get a bit impatient. Dropping hints that you two have been apart for far too long, and he’s ready to try again. Every run in you have in public, there he is with this long speech of how he’s healing and working on himself. He wants you back, bad. And yeah, he agreed to the break up but he didn’t really mean it. Wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up to your place distressed, after months of dancing around each other, begging for you to just come back home.

And don’t get me wrong, yes he has actually been working on himself- more than you know. Part of it is because he realizes he’s in desperate need of some good healing. But for the most part, it’s you. It’s always you, always going to be. His sole purpose of anything has always circled back to you. So, he fixes his attitude just enough, eats 3 square meals a day, tries real hard to say what’s on his mind. Because he realizes he can’t rush this if he hasn’t made any progress. But along the way, he also sort of realizes.. why can’t you two grow together?

Reblogs are appreciated! ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

[huntingrays]

pjo prompt: percy and jason have to go on a quest together, so they both decide to bring their respective partners (annabeth and leo). during the quest, they get kidnapped by monsters and percy and jason wake up in an arena. the monsters explain that they have their partners and in order to save them, they have to fight to the death, with the winner getting to leave alive with their partner, while the other is killed. however, the monsters are very shocked when percy and jason sit down and start calmly playing cards with each other. they’re not worried about their partners. instead, they’re worried for the monsters. they trapped annabeth and leo together, two of the smartest demigods. the girl who redesigned olympus and the boy who built a warship in six months. they were toast.

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

tiger!sukuna taking care of his kitty...

you squirm and twitch as his large, rough tongue runs up and down the juncture throat, the side of your neck, your jaw. your tiny hands push at his chest but it's of no use – he's just so much bigger and stronger than you. his tail sways from side to side and his ears keep twitching out of excitement; he can smell you, really smell you, and he can't stop grinning to himself – you keep trying to resist him while in reality... you love it.

his poor little kitty – overwhelmed by his need to simply take care of you:(((

the deep rumble, the low purr that reverberates through his chest is making you feel dizzy and you can't hold back the broken mewl that spills from your bitten lips. you feel his mean grin against your skin and it makes you try to push him off again. it doesn't work. when you try to fight him, fight his love for you – it only eggs him on further. his sharp nails dig into the soft meat of your waist as he lowers his hips, making you gasp when you feel his bulge rubbing against your heat.

claws sink into you and he's most certainly marks on your, oh, so sensitive skin; he uses his free hand to grab and turn your head to the other side as he licks and licks and licks – his saliva covers just about every inch of your neck and he just can't get enough. he holds your face in his big hands and he revels in the size difference... you're just so small compared to him:(( you don't even have a chance:(((

"stop... s'too much." you whine as you squirm under him. "'m clean now, kuna..."

that earns you a nip at your jaw.

he pushes you deeper into the mattress. he's nowhere even close to being done with you. he's only at your neck? what about the rest of your body? he'd rather have you crying from the suffocating weight of his overbearing love than to leave you like this – dirty and smelling like... well, not him. this is completely unacceptable!!!!