#TOO Drabble

[pentagonieslut]

Wiggle it

jaeyunxreader, UFC!jaeyun, slightly toxic couple, nightdancer!reader, female reader

signs of toxicity, violence, arguing, foul language

jaeyun was currently in front of the tv, arms crossed as the rest of the boys were all in the kitchen, staying far away from the argument that was about to ensue.

chihoon ate his chips silently as Jerome pushed him gently and looked at him as he shrugged. his sister was scary. everyone knew that she would kick his ass in a heartbeat.

“you really danced on another man?” jaeyun asked as you put down your water bottle and spoke. “yes i did. what’s up?” you said that caused chihoon to still and jaeyun pinching the inside arm even harder.

“i’m your husband is what! why would you do that?” he said exasperated as you grunted and looked at him. “ain’t a damn ring on my finger.”

“that’s not the point!” he said as you rubbed your forehead in irritation. “it’s not? could’ve sworn it was.” jaeyun’s eye twitched as the front door closed silently, the boys sitting on the porch in silence as they heard the first thud.

you had jaeyun in an arm bar, your sparring- fighting just beginning as everyone sighed and listened to the yelling. it wasn’t easy having a high paid UFC fighter and a scarier girlfriend as friends.

chihoon felt bad that he didn’t tell jaeyun to knock off his bullshit when he was in a bad mood or he hadn’t fucked his sister over the counter in several months in preparation for his matches.

not to mention jaeyun was always a hot headed toxic dick during this time.

the silence finally fell as they peeked through the door and listened. “yes, i’m a bounce this ass for a rich motherfucker. no matter who it is. even if it’s your dad trying to fuck. extra cash in my pocket and more of a reason for you keep impregnating the pocket pussy.” you spat back as jaeyun had an offended look on his face.

“gold digger.” he hissed as you laughed. “same one who bought you those expensive gifts using another sugar daddy’s money.”

jaeyun gasped in shock as you rolled your eyes and walked away.

[spurbleu]

jus been thinking about a reader who isn’t used to spending much money/grew up cheaper who is dating price.

because he’s absolutely the type to spoil you, and you are just baffled because £2,000 for a necklace is ridiculous. you only like it, not love it. and ‘sides, he shouldn’t be spending that much on a piece of jewelry.

but it made you stutter your steps when you saw it in the window. made you pause before answering him when he asked, “y’like that dove?” half-mindedly responding “mhm…��� it all only solidified his assumption you were smitten.

course, when he started towards to the door your hands found fluttering purchase on his shirt, shaking your head, hissing,

“absolutely not. way to expensive.”

“nothing is too expensive if it’s f-“

“John.”

you could find one just like it at a flea market, a reassurance that didn’t seem to do much for John, but you were unbothered. you had a good eye for those things. so it was forgotten.

until, you’re bidding a sappy goodbye at the airport before his flight, and he slips something into your back pocket, taps your bum and winks.

“keep it safe.”

you leave your fury with it in your back pocket until you get home, ripping the box open to reveal, sneaky bastard, the necklace.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

katsuki who breaks his sleep schedule ONLY on your birthday because he wants to be sure he’s the first one to text you.

at exactly midnight .on.the.dot. you get a string of messages from your boyfriend saying :

“happy birthday, moron.”

“i love you and all that stupid mushy shit”

“you better say it back. fucked up my sleep for you.”

“❤️”

he doesn’t even care if you’re already asleep, he’s already sure he was the very first one to text you but if you are still awake he’s even more proud cause you saw it happen. him who you (and his friends) tease all the time for going to sleep at like 8:30 sharp stayed up doing fuck all just to be the first to wish you a happy fucking birthday.

so yeah, you bet your ass he’s proud. and he’ll go to sleep and knock out immediately with a smirk on his face when you text him a “thank you sm, katsuki !!! i love you sosooososos much���💕”

“yeah you better. go to bed, g’night <3”

n’ yeah okay, maybe he’ll be a bit crankier than usual, but it’ll be worth it seeing how bright you smile and jump to hug him, kissing all over his cheek with thank you’s and love you’s.

he’ll just take it out on kaminari.

[moechies]

:¨ ·.· ¨: ୨୧ somno w toji

somno with toji never works :( he’s simply too big, and any part of him inside of you would wake you up in an instant, no matter how deep of a sleeper you are.

you proved this true the one time toji came home later than normal from a weighted job, scruffy and worn. yearning for some love from his dearest, cutest wife, jittery at the thought of your sweet lips against his own, and your soft skin pliant against his.

although worried, you had put yourself to sleep on the couch outside of your guy’s bedroom, a plated meal warmed and covered in a wrap for his hoped upon arrival. upon staggering upon the doorstep, fidgeting the key into the hole to get the lock open, he’s greeted by the soft, warm atmosphere of what hes able to call home.

his eyes set on your pliant body sprawled across the couch, body sunk into the soft pillows beneath you. your snoozy face on display due to you laid on your side, and a little knit blanket limps across your tummy. you’re wearing one of his over-sized shirts with a thin pair of panties, delicate lace and a strung bow that details the rim of it.

although originally admiring your soft body laying so peacefully, he can’t help the way his eyes divert to the sight of your chubby cunt, hugged so snugly by the crotch of your panties.

it’s adorable, honestly.

he makes his way towards you with ill intentions, dropping his belongings as he strides towards you.

soft snores reverberate through your body, paying no mind to the huge man mounting you from the side. he curses himself silently when all he can imagine is a sweet imagine of your is your fucked our face imprinted in his head, cute drooly mouth and crystalline tears painting your cute cheeks. his ears ring with your little mewls and cries of his name, little hand grappling at his much larger bicep trying your best to ask for a kiss.

he feels his cock ache and throb against your warm thigh as his mind surpasses all of these perfect moments, wasting no time before tugging at the silk embellishment of a belt, shimmying off his pants and discarding them on the ground. he hoists your soft leg onto his shoulder, shirt lifting along side it allowing him an open view to your perfect cunt, and your perfect slit. he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

although racked with guilt, head pulsing with anger at his poor self control, he can’t help but replay certain moments in his head; where you’d beg him to use you, conscious or not.

with honeydew tears rolling down your face, desperately holding the man impossibly close, mewling in his ear, ‘use me, use me, use me !” and all you ask in return is a sweet kiss on the lips. he chuckles at the thought, you, who others assume to be such a dear, gentle as a fawn, cute as a doe, the most innocent of all, compared to the version of you only toji knows. he’s utterly blessed.

his mind acts as a record, one that doesn’t stop playing, one which each and every film is of your sweet, sweet self. he’s not long into his fantasy before he finds himself mindlessly humping against your clad pussy, a thick layer of slick beginning to form from the simulation.

he lets out a mere laugh, tugging the crotch aside to be met with the prettiest sight of your worked up cunny. the sheen coat of arousal does nothing but highlight your pearly clit, and milky hole, all ready to take your favorite. your breath has labored, eyes squeezed tight, and cheeks flushed with a light rose, outcries for your dearest lover; ‘toji, toji, daddy— d . . daddy,’

his pride can’t help but swell at cute commentary unconsciously slipping from your lips; to know that even in you’re sleep, you were dreaming of him.

as his hand holds your panties aside, the other tugs his cock out from the confinements of his boxers, dragging the sloppy tip against your slit. he watches the two textures of arousal mix against eachother, his creamier pre blend into your clear slick. he can almost feel himself staring at the mess through heart-shaped lenses, obsessed with how your hole pulses around his mere cock head.

he feels your body twitch against his, leg shivering lightly, as you huff. much as if you had been awake, other than your usual whining and rushing, tugging at his much larger hips to hurry.

he finally lands above your hole, pressing lightly against the wet flesh, assuming he’s being diligent with his movements in order not to wake you. he watches as your soft cunt swallows his pudgy cock head as if it’s a right, fat lips hugging his cock head tight.

his technique doesn’t work too well.

his mere tip sits comfortably inside you when he hears you whimper loudly at his initial movement, eyelashes fluttering as you wake yourself with heavy pants. your leg attempts to retract, but he keeps a easy grip in order to keep you still. your cries grow louder, completely oblivious as to what’s happening around you in your woozy state. you flinch at the scarred hand that lays against the soft skin of your face,

“it’s jus’ me, honey. don’t fret.” toji comforts, smiling at the way your head turns to face his, brows furrowing in confusion.

“o . . owie—“ you react regarding his cock head protruding your cunny from below, “t-toji,” your hand grips at his fingers weakly, slowly adjusting to the ‘foreign’ feeling of his cock.

“mhm.. that’s right, darling girl. y’slept well?” you shake your head quickly, pouting up at the man above you. he tilts his head to the side, anticipating your explanation.

“ ‘s ‘cause you w-weren’t home. m-missed y’so much, toji.” you sniffle, tugging his arm in order to pull him closer.

“oh, poor baby.” he replies solemnly, reaching down to press a loving kiss onto your forehead. you feel him nudge himself deeper, squeaking at the unprepped stretch.

“heh.. missed you so much too, doll. y’know that?” he cups the side of your face, shallow and short thrusts of his cock. more than enough to get him off perfectly. you nod your head rapidly with shut eyes, fists clenched into little balls against your chest at the overwhelming simulation.

“y’r doin’ s’good. ‘s almost over doll, t-then i’ll put ya to sleep.”

“w-wait hnn— m gonna cum !”

he snickers at your meek whines, teasing you slightly,

“already? this pussy’s so sensitive, sweet doll.”

he knows it’s the mixture of you barely conscious, added onto the intense simulation of his cock pounding against your gummy walls over and over, but he loves the little helpless glare you shoot him, silently begging him to let you cum.

“please, please—“

“shh darlin,’ no need to beg. cum, cum f’me, doll.”

and with a couple deep strokes, his cock overwhelmed by the way your cunt pulses and squeezes around him, he cums a potent load into the depths of your womb.

he jets a milky and viscous stream of thick cum into you, seemingly never ending as he slowly rides out his high by lazily humping into your spent cunt.

his eyes can’t help but pace back and forth from your lewd expressions to the creamy mess below, watching his load spread across your chubby folds and dirty the inside of your thighs.

sweet whispers of ‘love you, love you,’ fall from the lips of the man, pressing wet kisses all over your face. you nuzzle against his face, kissing down his jaw, entertaining his needy behavior that you surely wouldn’t see for a while.

[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!!!!

+ just had to show u guys this post that just lives in my head i keep thinking abt it...

[lilacgaby]

katsuki would not be overly sweet to his crush. he would come off as mean.

it's not his fault! you make him feel things he'd never felt before. especially if you met him when he was in middle school or early on in his first year. he didn't know why his heart beat fast around you, why his hands sweated more around you, why his mind blanked when you asked him simple things.

his solution? avoid you and get out of conversations with you as soon as he can.

it worked, for a while. but he found that your friend groups overlapped, and sometimes you'd even be grouped together in class.

most conversations between you went as such. "hey, uh bakugo?" you'd ask, moving to face him. he'd stay still as a board, ignoring the rush of his heart and hot feeling on his cheeks. his grip on his pen tightened.

at no response you'd continue. "do you have a-"

"no."

"??? i didn't even-"

"leave me alone."

good thing his friends picked up on his behavior and diagnosed him with said crush. and good thing they shoved the two of you into a closet for seven minutes in heaven, forcing him to finally talk to you, finally realize these feelings brightened him up inside and weren't as bad as he made them out to be.

after that he begun to treat you differently, it was seen in the small things like offering you his jacket, fixing your hair for you, walking you home.

but more than everyone, you'd be the most surprised. because the same guy who avoided you like the plague would be offering his shoulder for you to lay on.

taglist: @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @i-the-fluffo @uy242c @irenne-stans

[zevrra]

not enough !! ੈ✩‧₊˚

—♡. v!choso who suddenly can’t stop thinking about bending you over this desk and fucking you until he can’t take it anymore. his thoughts run wild even as your fingers move across his broad shoulders and down his arms. he has tasted your lips, felt your body press against him one too many times and it wasn’t enough. he needed more and with the blood pumping in his ears as your chest weighs heavy on his back once again as your hand wraps around his cock, stroking him off, he’s struggling to stay under control. biting his bottom lip with the threat of making it bleed as he watches your hand stroke his leaking cock.

—♡. choso who cums into your hand with his tie stuffed into his mouth to keep himself quiet. but even with the cloth in his mouth it doesn’t fully muffle the deep, animalistic and wild groan that he makes. rutting into your hand like a desperate man who’s just had his first taste of pleasure. he grips the table in front of him until his knuckles turn white. all the while you kiss the shell of his ear. “mmm yeah baby, you thinkin’ bout my pussy?” you ask with a lustful chuckle, removing his tie from his mouth with your other hand.

—♡. choso groans deeply at your words and nods eagerly in return. “yes! ‘s all i can — fuck — think about!” he admits in a high pitched whine as he rides out the last few moments of his orgasm. his honesty makes you smile wide as you kiss the side of his neck, your hand moving much easier over his messy cock now. “let me fuck you, please, please i need it! i need to feel your pussy around me.” he sobs as your thumb presses into the head of his pretty red cock, trembling under your touch.

—♡. “hmm you sure you want me to be your first?” you ask in a sweet tone. choso cries in response, one of his hands leaving the desk only to wrap his long fingers around your wrist. “mphm! pleaseee. want you i can’t fucking take it anymore!” he mumbles between hiccups as your hand continues to stroke his sensitive shaft. luckily enough for him, you planned to make his wish come true just not yet. you needed to tease him just a little longer before giving him what he truly desires.

[moyazaika]

tbh jaded lawyer darling trying to save yan crime kingpin from getting his ass thrown into prison for life — yet again.

he’s lingering at the court’s steps, entertaining the news reporters with a dazzling smile, the entire world waiting with bated breath to see whether this is the day his billion dollar criminal empire comes crumbling down—

“the whole world knows you did it!”

“are you ashamed of yourself?”

“do you really think you’ll walk away a free man after today?”

that gets his attention.

“darling, don’t ‘ya worry about me,” he turns to the journalist, and tilts his head to the side, pulling out his lollipop from between those lips, curled in a sly grin. “i ain’t gotta worry ‘bout no fuckin’ laws when i got the world’s best damn lawyer on my side.”

a young man, then. thick glasses and braces on his teeth. far too thin and lanky, for all his balls of steel as he speaks up. “are you implying that your lawyer is an accessory to your crimes? a corrupt lawyer for a guilty man on his way to the gallows?”

he hears you approach before he can think to respond. the familiar, expensive echo of the dress shoes he’d bought you the first time you’d won a case, before you’re there where he thinks you belong; right by his side.

“alleged crimes,” you correct, and your kingpin turns to greet you with a million dollar smile. “now, my client will not be taking any more questions. kindly, fuck off.”

cameras flash instantly and countless more mics are shoved into his pretty face, still mesmerised by you, even when you grab him by the back of his collar (unironed, you notice with absolute dismay) and pull him inside, away from prying eyes.

“you’re being tried for sixteen drug and weapons counts,” you hiss, digging your newly manicured nails into his skin, as you pull the lollipop he’s sucking on right out of his mouth with a wet ‘pop’ and toss it to the side, seething. “when will you fucking get serious!”

he only dumbly stares back at you with a slack jaw, and stars in his eyes. his voice dips an octave lower, deep in his throat when he speaks. “oh, i could get very serious if you wanted to give me a kiss. or, y’know, maybe you could act as a replacement to that sweet lollipop of mine ‘ya just—oh, fuck!”

when you stride into the courtroom later, in your neat, pressed suit and slicked back hair, nobody dares ask why the infamous ‘alleged’ crime lord is following after you with a bruise blossoming on cheeks that flush a deep, deep scarlet.

-

the judge announces the jury's verdict, and you don’t even look up from the documents you’re perusing when he’s found ‘not guilty’ in a court of law, yet again—

“jesus fuckin’ christ, i knew you were gonna save me!” your kingpin jumps up from where he’s sitting besides you, pressing his face into your shoulder as he breathes you in with an elated, shuddering breath. “can’t even imagine which ditch i’d be rottin’ in without ‘ya, sweet pea.”

“excuse me, sir.” you pry his hands off you with a detached air of reservation you reserve for when the two of you are in public, but the way your knuckles are white when you gather the countless files and papers of yours scattered on your desk tell him everything he needs to know about how pissed you are. “hands off.”

he knows he’s in for it when the two of you get home, and yet, he looks forward to the sight.

it’s always more… exciting than it should be; when you’ve got him shoved right up against a well, going off about how ‘irresponsible’ and ‘immature’ he is, nails leaving his skin bleeding from how deep you sink them into his body, too caught up in your own irritation to notice or, honestly, care.

and maybe, he thinks, as he follows you out, tonight he’ll go pay a visit to someone after you’re done with him.

a man’s got needs, y’know?

he’s high off the rush of his latest win when he walks up the porch steps hours later. it's really only the latest achievement in a long line he attributes solely to you and your efforts.

he’ll make sure to repay you one day, with all you’ve done for him. he’ll take such good care of you; let you do whatever you wanted to him, as a token of his appreciation for how hard you've worked to keep him on the streets he rules and out of the prisons he knows he belongs in.

in fact, his efforts start right here and right now; on the steps of a nice, suburban house, that belongs to the journalist with thick glasses and braces and a wiry frame. the white picket fence and 'keep off the grass' sign do little to deter the man outside. then again, the poor bastard could have had gates of iron, and he still would have found a way to creep inside.

he never knew being a journalist paid so well. shit, maybe he should’ve gone down this path instead of, y��know, running a criminal empire. this bastard's got balls of steel, for what he had the nerve to say about you. but it’s okay! hey! he’s here to take care of it for you!

you don’t ever need to find out what he’s done in your name. ♡

he’s very adamant about this, choosing to see the job to completion all alone, slinking away from your critical, watchful gaze—only once he’s made sure you’re knocked out by watching you sleep, crouched by your bedside, for a few hours—to make sure the problem’s all taken care of.

the kingpin rings the doorbell, and patiently waits for the door to open with his scarred hands held behind his back. there’s a glock in his left back pocket, and a silencer in the right. a swiss army knife curled in his fingers, because he’s always been creative.

yeah, can you believe that? his teachers used to tell him he would make a great artist one day. and he is, he likes to think. only that his canvases are a little less traditional, and not in the banksy way. you know how it is! life imitates art... or some hippie shit like that.

there's no rules in art for what you can paint with, right? or what surfaces you can carve up into pretty shapes...

and so, when the lock clicks open, and the handle turns, it’s exactly like he said; a man’s got needs!

so sue him! really, so what if his needs mean his heavy hands are clamping over the journalist’s mouth, twisted into a silent scream—

so what if he knocks the smaller man back, a fist flying to his face, those wide eyes and all, slack jaw stupidly hanging open in disbelief—

so what if he shoves him inside and kicks the door behind them shut?

your kingpin knows what comes with the life he chose, and sullying his name is one thing—but nobody gets to drag your name through the dirt and live.

he makes sure of that, personally.

-

“where did you go last night?” you ask, not taking your eyes off the weekly newspaper in your hands. there, on the front page, a greyscale photo of you and your headache of a client, descending the court’s steps after the verdict. “and why didn’t you ask for my permission before you left?”

the headline, in big, bold letters, splashed above the picture; INTERNATIONAL OUTRAGE AS INFAMOUS DRUG LORD EVADES LAW YET AGAIN. SHADY LAWYER TO BLAME?

“just takin’ out the trash, lovely. don’t you worry ‘yer pretty little mind about it.” as he says that, he abandons his own breakfast, suddenly snatching the paper out of your hands and ripping it up, but not before noting the name of the article’s author, tucking it away for later.

shreds of the weekly paper you hadn't even gotten to read yet fall to the floor, fluttering this way and that. you close your eyes and smile. “haha. funny. well, my ‘pretty little mind’ is telling me to throw the coffee in my hands all over you.”

“tryna mark me up?” he purrs, “if you really wanna wake me up, can i suggest somethin’ else ‘ya could throw at me? or on me, really. but—”

“i’m going to kill you in your sleep, one of these days.” you deadpan, turning back to your food. he’s like a little kid, and you’re not about to indulge him by giving him the attention he so desperately wants from you.

“'yer serious??" he grins, hands flying to his face in elation, a curious blush colouring his skin a deep pink. “you mean you actually wanna step into my bedroom— at night— of 'yer own damn will?“

you take another sip of your coffee, fingers trembling around the cup. don’t throw it at him it’s what he wants don’t throw it at him it’s what he wants don’t throw it at him it’s what—

“damn... guess i should start sleeping naked, then.”

extra; what if darling was a prosecutor instead?

[flwrstqr]

⭒ ENHYPEN HYUNG LINE REACTION WHEN YOU PRANK THEM BY NOT WEARING YOUR ENGAGEMENT RING

﹙ 𝓹𝐥𝐨𝐭 ♡𝓹𝐫é𝐜𝐢𝐬 fiancé!enha hyung line x fem!r. 𖥔fluff, headcanons ot7 works one shot wordcount` 1120. 𓈃 ◌⠀⠀˖ 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄 𓏵⠀

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 (이희승)

"baby, where's your ring?" heeseung’s voice is a little softer than usual, but you can see the way his eyes flicker with worry as he stares at your empty fourth finger. "oh, i just forgot it at home," you shrug, trying to act casual. but his expression shifts, lips pressing into a thin line. "forgot? are you sure? you’ve never forgotten before..." his hand tightens around yours, and you can almost feel him overthinking. "is something wrong? did i do something?" he mumbles, eyes dropping. guilt hits you, and you quickly pull the ring from your pocket, sliding it back on. "i’m sorry, hee, i was just teasing." his face relaxes a little, but he still looks at you seriously. "don’t play with my heart like that, baby. i thought you were having second thoughts."

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐀𝐘 (박종성)

"princess, where’s your ring?" jay asks, his eyes narrowing slightly as he notices your empty finger. you pause, then shrug with a lazy smile. "oh... i lost it." his eyebrows shoot up, and he stares at you, clearly overthinking. "lost it? how do you lose something like that?" his voice drops, softer now, as he looks away. "not want to wear it? is something wrong?" he asks, his hand tightening around yours. you can tell he’s spiraling, so you quickly pull the ring from your bag, laughing. "jay, no, i was just teasing. i wouldn't ever lose it." he lets out a long breath, shaking his head. "you almost gave me a heart attack. don’t play with me like that."

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 (심재윤)

"what happened to you ring?" jake asks, his tone casual but his eyes darting to your hand. you shrug. "i forgot it." he pauses, a slight frown forming. "seriously?" he checks your hand again, as if it might magically appear. "you never forget that." you bite back a smile, keeping your face straight. "guess i was in a rush." he just stares for a moment before shaking his head, muttering, "you’re messing with me, aren’t you?" you pull the ring from your pocket, holding it up with a smirk. "gotcha." he rolls his eyes, muttering, "you're ridiculous," but you catch the hint of a smile on his lips.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 (박성훈)

"where’s your ring?" sunghoon asks quietly, eyes darting to your hand as you both walk. you shrug, trying to hide your smile. "i forgot it." he stops in his tracks, blinking at you. "forgot it?" his voice is soft but tense, like he’s trying not to overreact. "do you… do you not want to wear it anymore?" his mind is already spiraling, brows furrowing as he stares at your empty finger. "did i do something wrong?" he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. you can't hold back a giggle, pulling the ring from your pocket. "no, you overthink too much." slipping it back on, you press a quick kiss to his lips. he sighs in relief, wrapping his arms around you. "don’t do that again," he mutters, kissing you once more, this time longer

[baskeigh-ball]

posting some mind swap doodles to prove im still alive, so have a few headcanons :D

- Leo in Mikey's body is pure chaos, he has no boundaries when it comes to modifications to "his" body in order to feel more comfortable in his own skin. For example, he gave himself his old markings to cover up Mikey's spots (only around the eyes tho, the arm and leg markings would take way more time.) He loves using Mikey's mystic powers/weapons at first, but eventually feels too weird about it and switches to his own weapons/gear to cope

- Mikey reins him in whenever he gets a little too confident in using his mystic powers though. Mikey is always hovering nearby to make sure Leo doesn't decide to go overboard, fully aware of Leo's lack of awareness when it comes to his physical limits, let alone when he's in someone else's body

- Raph is on the opposite side of the spectrum as far as modifications go, only willing to give Donnie his tech back and wear arm wraps to feel more like himself.

- The only tech he has to keep is the battle shell, especially after realizing just how fragile Donnie's body really is. He becomes refuses to take it off for days at a time, and when he does finally take it off, he's extremely paranoid and puts himself in the safest spot possible: his own room, bundled up in pillows and blankets.

- He also is woefully ignorant in how the battle shell is operated, so it goes haywire pretty often in the beginning. Donnie has to be nearby and ready to be damage control for a long time before Raph becomes confident enough to operate the battle shell's most basic functions.

[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.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

kaminari complains to his friends about how gross it is that you and katsuki kiss every morning in front of your classroom door. like, have some compassion for the singles, yknow ?! his friends tell him to just drop it.

what they don’t know is the reason he kisses you every morning is to guess which flavor your lipgloss is. and he’s a little too proud when he gets it right.

[maxlarens]

cl and 26 pleaseee🫶🏼

26) kissing the top of their head

“Your father hasn’t liked any of your boyfriends nearly as much as him,” your mum tells you, nudging you with her elbow as the two of you stand together in the doorway.

Your coffee mug is warm and steaming in your hand as you look out onto the balcony, where Charles and your dad are playing a game of Uno. They’re engrossed in a conversation about some painter you’ve never heard of. Your dad is putting down two cards at once without Charles noticing, finally able to pull the trick your family had grown wise to years ago.

You let out a breathy laugh, “He’s cheating.”

Your mum lets out an angry noise, prompted by thirty odd years of your dad playing it fast and loose with the rules of various board games.

“Charles,” she says, sounding stern enough that he whips his head around, eyes-wide, your mum waves him off then points sternly at your father, “You keep your eyes on him. He does not respect rules.”

You snicker at the endearing way that Charles’ eyebrows pull together in confusion. Puzzling through your mother’s words, probably wondering how your father could have found a way to cheat at Uno. (If there’s a will there’s a way, your dad always says). Charles turns back to the game with his arms out in outrage, baulking at your father’s audacity.

“Oh my god,” he mutters in that mumbling, run-on way he says things sometimes, “How could you?”

Your father shakes his head and waves the issue off with a few bumbling words about how your mother has a vendetta against him because he always wins. You laugh into your drink. He’s gone too far, pretending to insult your mother— you clatter past the screen door, stepping out onto the balcony.

Charles gives you a backward glance as you approach the back of his chair. You put a hand on his shoulder, pressing your thumb into the muscles on his neck, massaging them absently.

“He is cheating,” you confirm, leaning over him to put your coffee down and spread out the last two cards your father had put down, “Different colours.”

Charles splutters, throwing his hand onto the table and looking expectantly at your father who has started snickering like a teenage boy. The screen door clatters open behind you, your mother comes out with a tray of cookies and a few choice words for her husband about trying to swindle your new boyfriend.

You smile, pulling back to say into his ear, “He only does it because he likes you… And because he can get away with it.”

Charles makes a noise of discontentment while reaching up to cover your hand with his, “Wha— that means he likes me?”

“Yes,” you and your mother say at the same time.

Because your dad doesn’t know how to admit he likes anyone, he shrugs instead and says, “Eh, it’s Uno. There are no real rules.”

You roll your eyes while your mum is set off on a tangent about not throwing out rule books and setting a good example for your children.

“Well,” you sigh, pressing a kiss to his temple then up into his hair, “This is what you’ve got yourself into, Sharl.”

You feel him shake his head, then he tips back to look into your eyes, “It’s perfect, really. I love it.”

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

Nanami had always wanted to go to Malaysia.

“What’s this?” Nanami's fingers invade the envelope, pulling out two plane tickets. “Plane tickets… to Malaysia,” You cheerfully respond to the man. Malaysia. Nanami’s dream destination. Nanami’s eyes fill with happiness at the sight of tickets. He had hoped that one day he would go and it was finally going to become reality. Thanks to you.

He could only imagine walking down the beach with you. Sand under his feet, the wind blowing through his hair, the warm sun touching his skin. Relaxation finally. His enthusiasm was contagious, child-like wonder in his eyes as he explained to you everything he wished to do which made you equally excited for this trip.

“You take care of everyone else besides yourself, so let me take care of you for once,” you explain as Nanami wraps his arms around you. Big strong arms that were the embodiment of protection, gentleness, and adoration. Not just for you but for everyone around him. Always putting everyone before him. The most selfless man you would ever meet. “Thank you,” a soft whisper from his lips flows into your ear.

You stand in the dark bedroom as your memory comes to an end. Your fingers tremble as you hold the tickets. Your eyes burning as warm tears stain your cheeks. These tickets were supposed to be an escape. An escape from everything around you. Just you and him. But he escaped first.

You feel your heart drop, as you realize the other things escaping you. His scent no longer filled the room, you could barely remember the sound of his voice, you couldn’t remember his soft touch anymore. And all you could was cry and cry till you couldn’t anymore. In his presence, the world took everything from him but his departure took everything from you. And in that one moment you can sympathize with him and you could only think about the comfort you brought him when he had nobody. The joy you brought him when he forgot how to be happy.

But you finally understood why he wouldn’t marry you, why he never wanted children even though he loved them, why he avoided any talk about the future. As much as you tried to understand him while he was alive, you understood too late. Nanami had come to terms with his mortality. It's the type of man he was. He would give his life in an instant. And he did. And you could only be thankful that you were loved by a man like that. Truly the perfect man.

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (the tiniest bit), a lot of cussing (typical of bkg), reader has an ex-boyfriend, reader is alluded to being smaller than bkg

masterlist | part 1, part 2 (they're all bite-sized, dw), part 4 (this one not so much), part 5 (this one too), part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

You drop your new 0.38 ballpoint pen and it goes tumbling down, down, to the pristine carpeted floor.

Right where your jaw is.

“My what?”

The man of the hour has the audacity to scoff and roll his eyes.

Is it too late to actually follow through with your fantasy of strangling him?

As if he’s daring you to go for it, he tosses you the nth annoyed look of the night. “What did I just fucking say about not making me say things twice?”

You feel yourself flush with what you think is anger and embarrassment. “Bakugou, sir—”

“And I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

Smartass.

That’s it.

Before you know it, you’re already on your feet, stalking your way toward the man with the proverbial steam coming out of your nose and ears. His eyes widen in surprise as you get closer and closer before you stop right in front of his desk, towering over him for once.

“My date? Really?” You sound so incredulous, even to yourself, and you can’t help the seed of pride that blossoms over what you think is worry dancing across his features. He’s out of his goddamn mind, and between the two of you, you’re not about to be the only whose feathers are visibly ruffled over this dumb-as-shit idea. He has no business being so cool about it.

Never mind that your heart is hammering in exasperation.

Yes, just that.

Shaking your head, you press on. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re coworkers.”

You gesture to the space between you, and he merely raises his eyebrow in response with his strong arms crossed in front of his chest—snobbish as ever. “You’re my boss and I’m your underling. And I’m the HR head, for crying out loud.”

You pause to debate whether or not to say the next thing before deciding fuck it. “And what makes you think I don’t have—”

“Do you?”

Your face scrunches involuntarily at being cut off, “What?”

He leans forward, not breaking eye contact as if he’s challenging you. “Do you have a boyfriend?” He cocks his head to the side, “Or a date, at the very least?”

Your voice is small when you respond with the pitiful truth.

“…No?”

At that, Bakugou grins. If you didn’t know any better, you would say the fucking behemoth of a man looked pleased. He pushes against the edge of his desk, effectively creating a much more appropriate distance between the two of you. “Well, that settles it then. I’ll be your dashing date, we show up to your shitty ex’s wedding, and I finally teach that dickhead a lesson or two.”

A million questions start racing in your head, like: Why is this his first solution to the problem? Did he even consider whether or not you wanted to go in the first place? What did he mean by finally? And just—why?

But the one you manage to stammer out is: “Dude—what the fuck are you going to do? Are you about to mangle a guy at his wedding?!”

He looks at you like you just unceremoniously bit his ass. “What? No. What do you take me for, a brainless Nomu who just goes apeshit?”

You can only grumble in response. Yes, sometimes.

He sighs for the umpteenth time as if you’re the one who has steered the already unpleasant conversation into this bizarre topic. He stands up from his seat, and you’re back to being the one looking up at him.

The same thing probably registers in his mind because a smug look takes over his features within seconds.

“And, if you must know, I’m going to do so by being the best trophy date ever.”

You fight the reflex to choke at his words. Instead, you squint your eyes and muster your most scrutinizing gaze. “Why are you doing this?”

Bakugou doesn’t respond for a while, choosing to circle his desk and plant himself to your right. Before you can even comprehend what’s going on, let alone jerk back at the proximity, he bends toward you until his mouth is a breadth away from your ear. His minty breath tickles your skin when he finally says: “I’m a hero, remember?”

With that, the “hero” in question sashays to the glass doorway like he didn’t just drop a bomb on you, leaving you slackjawed and unresponsive.

He’s almost out of view by the time you manage to collect yourself and blurt out a reply.

“Hey, where are you going? We still have work to do.”

“Relax,” he calls out from the hallway, his voice receding as he walks farther and farther away from you. “’m just gonna take a piss.”

When you’re sure he’s out of earshot, you slump back in your seat, all the strength that’s left apparently having dissipated after that ludicrous exchange.

How could he throw every caution to the wind just like that? Did he forget he was just one spot away from being number 1? His PR team is going to kill both of you for even thinking this.

As you wait for Bakugou to finish his trip to the comfort room, you can’t help but contemplate the absurd idea. Needless to say, and despite Bakugou’s apparent nonchalance, there’s planning involved.

What are people going to say? If (once) the people from your agency—no, anyone who knows the #2 Prohero, really (which is virtually everyone)—find out, you’re toast. You’re going to be the subject of every tabloid in Musutafu—no, the entirety of Japan and maybe even in some news sites overseas—and you are absolutely not ready for that scrutinization.

And all that over a one-day fake dating stint? You’ve got to be kidding yourself.

But the more you think about it, the less foreign and preposterous the idea becomes. You know you shouldn’t even be considering it, but you can’t help it.

Getting dumped by your boyfriend over the phone only for him to reconnect with his high school sweetheart (did they even ever lose touch?) and get engaged five months later was humbling enough, let alone going to his wedding alone?

The first, obvious answer when you first saw the invite in the mail was to not go. But the more you sat on it, the more you realized how pitiful it would be to be a no-show. Was not going wiser than going alone? Probably. But you’re sick of hiding— avoiding—and you promised yourself this year that you’ll be facing your fears head-on.

Chewing your lip in deep reflection, your brain drifts back to the very person who came up with the proposition.

He seemed sure and determined enough—and it wasn’t like Bakugou to not be calculating and to not have everything mapped out, as similar as he can be to a raging bull. He probably has thought about the consequences to the T, in the few minutes of processing your situation, potentially more than you have.

And damn it, the man is attractive.

If there’s anyone you’d bring to your ex’s wedding to make him regret everything he did to you, it would be Bakugou Katsuki. Although you’d never admit it to the man even if you were held at gunpoint.

“Oi.”

Speak of the devil.

You startle at the sound of his gruff voice, abruptly dragging you out of your reverie.

He’s now standing beside you, hands in his pockets and face studying yours closely as if he’s searching for something.

You stare him back down before you finally decide on what to say.

You can’t believe what you’re about to do.

Gulping, you maintain your gaze. “Are you sure about this?”

“Would I be suggesting it if I wasn’t?”

Fair point.

To your surprise, Bakugou crouches down to regard you and you find yourself directly face-to-face. Despite yourself, you gulp in nervousness at the sudden proximity, and you think he notices because the jackass has the nerve to flash you a smirk.

You furrow your brows in an attempt to regain your composure and any semblance of control over the situation. “And you’re sure you’re gonna succeed as, and I quote, my ‘trophy date?’”

He sneers, although he doesn’t seem to be offended by your challenge. It’s probably because the statement means nothing to him—at this exact moment, the guy is practically oozing with confidence.

Bakugou chuckles, and you find yourself grateful that you’re seated because the next thing he is about to say instantly floors you.

“One thing about me, princess, is that I always win.”

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik @bunnysaursushii

[cringevalue]

eddie asks if steve would still love him if he was a worm, to which steve obviously says yes, because steve would still love eddie if eddie were a sweet gum ball stuck in steve’s big toe.

anyway, steve wakes up the next morning to a worm wiggling across his chest. at first, he almost screams, but then he remembers eddie’s question from yesterday.

oh shit...

did eddie turn into a fucking worm??

after a few seconds of contemplating, steve carefully picks the worm up. “eddie? is that you?”

unfortunately for steve’s ego, the real eddie can’t control the volume of his laughter from outside the bedroom door, and steve’s face is redder than red when eddie stumbles into the room.

now steve wants to know why the fuck eddie put a worm on his chest.