#WHOOPS this one got away from me

[sickosdotjpg]

honestly think one of the hottest things a person can do is sneeze into the cowl/collar of a turtleneck sweater or similar

[impel-clown]

18. Along jaw, crocodile/buggy

(CW: Torture)

Crocodile can feel the oppressive heat before the guards even open the door, yet still he walks forward with his head held high as the seastone cuffs try to drag him low. They had already stripped him, so as the steam hits, heavy and hot, there’s not a single scrap of clothing to shield him.

“Tell me Sir Crocodile,” one of the guard’s begins as he walks him towards a massive cauldron. The thing is set into the floor, the lip slightly lower than the cobblestone and the water close to bubbling out. “Are you a religious man?”

Despite knowing exactly what’s about to happen, Crocodile keeps his voice steady. 

“No.”

He expects some sort of stupid quip back. Something to try and crack his resolve. A taunt about this so-called baptism. Instead, there is nothing but silence as the water rushes up to meet him.

Agony.

The second Crocodile hits the water it’s nothing but agony. His skin scalds. Nerves screaming. Blood boiling out of his veins. At first he had thought it had been an idiotic oversight that they had allowed him to keep his hook. But now as the metal grows hot in the water, the heat flows through it and presses against his stump in a burn he cannot escape.

Surfacing, Crocodile keeps his face impassive even as every inch of his skin is alight in unending pain. He’s not going to give these bastards the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

He will not scream.

He will not scream.

He will not-

Crocodile blinks awake. There’s nothing dramatic about it. No shooting up in bed. No stuttered breaths. Not even the remnants of a scream. Just him lying in bed and staring at the ceiling as the memories of the nightmare echo away in his head. If not for the heat radiating off him and the sweat pooling on the sheets, no one would ever even know that anything plagued the former warlord’s sleep.

“You okay?”

He drags his gaze away from the ceiling towards Buggy. Sat up in bed, hair hanging loosely around him, the other man looks at Crocodile not with pity or judgment, but with just the remnants of sleep in his eyes. It’s appreciated in ways Crocodile could not and would not say.

Nodding, Crocodile doesn’t move. “Did I wake you?”

“Don’t think so.” Buggy yawns. “Just too damn hot in here to sleep. Mind if I open the window?”

Again, Crocodile nods and Buggy is quick to chop off his hands and send them flying. 

Honestly, how could something as simple as a summer night be capable of leaving him like this? It’s pathetic Having nightmares as if he was some child. Impel Down was years ago. Yet here it is, haunting him.

A slight breeze blows the curtains as the window gets propped open, and only a moment or two passes before Buggy’s hands rush back to him. However, where usually he is quick to stick himself to Crocodile’s side like a persistent leech, now he keeps a foot of distance between them on the bed. The idea that Buggy may have lied about Crocodile waking him up flits through his head, but he’ll wait till morning to examine that.

“I’m not going to fucking break,” Crocodile says, extending his left arm to give Buggy space to slot himself in. “Get over here.”

Without another word Buggy shuffles over, wrapping one arm over Crocodile’s chest with the other tucked up between the two of them. And perhaps it's a testament to how hot Crocodile is, or maybe it's something he’s too tired to even put a name to, but Buggy’s touch is nice and cool against his skin. Every point of contact is like a salve, and he finds himself unable to stop the deep sigh that shudders out of his mouth.

Again, Buggy goes to pull back.

“Don’t.” Crocodile means the word to come out more demanding, but there’s a rawness to it that he hates, that makes it sound more like pleading. Either way, the clown slowly brings himself back in, breath ghosting against Crocodile’s skin. The first kiss is barely a brush of lips underneath his ear. The next lands lower, and the next lower even still as Buggy trails down his jaw. Each press is a relief against his fevered skin and Crocodile finds himself letting his eyes close as he gets lost in it. They’re not placating, but they’re not heated and needy like Buggy is expecting this to go anywhere. It is touch for the sake of touch. Nothing more.

He’s not sure how many kisses are placed along his jawline before he speaks again, the words barely thought before they pass his lips. “They baptize you at Impel Down?”

Buggy places a kiss just so that his nose brushes against Crocodile’s ear. As he speaks, he doesn’t remove his mouth, instead whispering the word into Crocodile’s skin. “Yeah . . ..”

For a man usually so chatty, Buggy doesn’t ask the question back and Crocodile silently thanks him for it. In fact, they don’t say another word for the rest of the night. Instead they just lie there, Buggy lazily trailing kisses up and down his jaw while Crocodile holds him close against his chest, cool in each other’s embrace.

[dittolicous]

whats this, more raging stealth black?! gasp!

(1- 2 - 3 - 4)

judge, in an attempt to ensure sanji does 'fall back into bad habits', messed with Sanji's ability to taste food, has him banned from being anywhere close to the kitchens, and even has forced 124ji to refrain from making comments about the food for the foreseeable future. they dont want to risk triggering anything too soon after his 'recovery'

of course, while in the infirmary, sanji just figured he was getting standard grade mild hospital food so he was (subconsciously) looking forward to his first real meal afterwards. and it smelled so good! but then he took the bite... and it just tasted like mushy cardboard. as did every bite afterwards. glancing around at his family, they all seemed just fine with the meal... so perhaps thats just how it was then? was food/eating just like emotions, something they preformed, an end to a mean? food was fuel, not a leisure activity, he supposed...

so, choking down his food, he said nothing

food was just fuel

just another drop in the pool, another small itch in the back of his mind, the growing sense of something being off

overtime he starts skipping meals, brushing them off altogether or asking for someone to just puree it for him so he can down it while he works. his time is more well spent furthering their plans than spent chewing on cardboard. he tries not to acknowledge the way something in his reiju's eyes breaks at that nor to claw at the spot where judge proudly clapped his shoulder for his taking initiative. his brothers remain oddly quiet, glancing between each other as niji snorts

it doesnt matter

what does matter is the strange burning sensation in his chest that has him biting back snarls at soilders that waste his time with meaningless compliments or the way he has to fight his face to remain neutral when yonji laughs or how his body aches, shoulders twinging from the tense posture he holds in his fathers presence

he is a a vinsmoke. he is a cyborg. he is an unfeeling, unflappable soldier meant to spread the glory of germa across the land and sea, no mere emotion nor man could ever hold him back

so why is it then that he finds himself clenched into a tight ball, hands ripping at his own hair, desperate to forget the feeling that came when that burning desire nearly succeeded in breaking free after a maid bumped into him in the hallway, flowing out of him with a snarl and its only his carefully honed control snapping back in place that allows the maid to keep standing where she is, pressed fearfully against the hallway wall

his hand, frozen midair, right where he caught himself before the hit could land across her face

the books in his hands have been long forgotten where they lay in the hallway after he dropped them and ran blindly. he doesnt know where he is, only that its quiet, dark, and he is alone with his ragged breathing. he curls up tighter, desperately trying to push down everything, the bile in his throught, the memory of the maids fear in his mind, and the horribly, confusingly angry tears that burn at his eyes

it shouldn't matter, he shouldn't feel, he shouldn't care, and yet, and yet, and yet

something snaps inside him as he yanks out a clump of his own hair, something bloody and visceral and uncontrollable

because he can no longer sate himself with soothing lies of his family's love and blood-born honor, not when he is so clearly broken and wrong and all he ever wants to do is scream and burn it all down, starving for something more he cant even recall

covered in his own blood, snot, and tears, sanji realizes how little he truly knows

with the plans to strike the strawhats down moving ever closer, he stands and begins his charting own.

in the meantime, he works. he trains. he studies.

he researches.

and he learns.

so, suffice to say, he's not happy with what he learns. the life of one blackleg sanji, sprawled before in clippings from newspapers across the years, some freshly printed, others yellow with age. faces in photos that he swears he knows yet cannot name make him break a wall with one flaming kick.

(the oldest of them is that of a restaurant opening in a far off ocean - but he couldnt read more before the paper turned to ash in his grasp thanks to the flames creeping up his body)

the only road forward, he realizes, is one that leads to their deaths. vinsmoke judge and everything hes ever had a hand in... this world was not just nor right, just an endless stretch of monsters like him ruining everything. death, admittedly, would be a mercy in the longrun.

he'd make it slow

they never even noticed him pulling away, sneaking into labs and war rooms across the floating kingdom. never questioned the bags beneath his eyes so long as he got them the results they desired. they trusted him, it seemed.

or maybe they just didnt care. is health really all that important when you can just throw them into a test tube and-and try again? dig into their brain and pull out every piece that makes them, them, and see if it works now. lie when you cant dig a scalpel in and hope for the best.

when the day finally came, only three before they were suppose to make the final move of the strawhats, sanji sneaks into the kitchen, aided by his new improved raid suit and his family's growing compliancy. they no longer parole the kitchens like bloodhounds, ready to turn him the other way.

as thanks, he adds something special to his siblings dishes

hes no fool, hes aware he likely couldn't take them all on his own. underhanded techniques never bothered them before, so this shouldn't be any different. besides, they werent his focus

no one says anything about the food or... any odd tastes, per usual thanks to judges standing orders. he bites his lip hard enough to draw blood just to fight back a smile as he spots a tremble in ichiji's hand as dinner draws to a close and dessert is sat before them. niji keeps pinching the bridge of his nose amd yonji eyes take on a strange glaze as he stares out a window

reiju looks at sanji, her ever present fake smile dropping away

the show begins like fireworks, lighting up the evening sky, his many bombs hidden about all going off at once

he listens and revels in the sound the labs make as they turn into flaming rubble, explosions bursting across the many snails in their armada, of his fathers fantic commands, his brothers confusion, and his sisters silence

the germa kingdom crumbles, flames crawling across the snails, the smaller of which begin writhing in pain as theyre cooked alive

he probably should of kept the charades going on for longer, but sanji just couldn't help the bitter laughter that welled up at his fathers flushed face, which only causes him to seeth more and sanji can barely breath through his manic laughter

at the very least, judge seems to catch on when yonji crashes to the ground, unconscious, without ever being touched and ichiji is swaying on his feet where he stands. niji hasnt gotten up, clutching table like a lifeline as he snarls in sanjis direction.

its invigorating, watching the fear creep into each ones eyes, fear they claim to not have nor know. judge can only watch as his kingdom burns and his precious soilders crumble, all thanks to one of their own

and the night has only begun

(in all the excitement, none of them see the ship approaching on the horizon, the lion shaped head glowing in the suns dying light and crackling flames)

[hydrachea]

You're the first person i've encountered here/on twt who ships the SH polycule 😭 everywhere I go it's nuclear family this girl dad blade that

I know anon, I know. It's dire for us out there.

It's not even that I don't think they're found family. They very much are. It's that found family doesn't mean found father found mother and found children, and yet it's apparently all people can come up with for some reason. And not only does it limit how you can appreciate their relationship, but I'm also really not a fan of the resulting constant infantilization of Silver Wolf and now Firefly by... Most people at this point. You don't have to ship the four of them together, but I sure would appreciate if people didn't treat these two like Blade and Kafka's teenage daughters just because they have short models.

I can't tell you how grateful I am that Firefly called them all her partners in 2.3. Not her allies, not her teammates, her partners. And that Jade, from her outsider point of view, called their relationship "strong and intimate". They all love each other so deeply, it's everything to me.

This ship may be so tiny you might as well call it a raft but believe me when I say I'm sailing it as far as it can go.

[deepseawave]

obsessed w the tags on ur last reblog

Omgg, thank you haha, it was a quality post so I just had to appreciate it in full force 😂❤️

Can‘t believe someone would actually enjoy my yapping :,D

[dramatisperscnae]

@normaltothemax asked for this >w>

"Hey, Jay. It's been a while."

Dick pauses in front of the headstone, staring at the name carved on it. He knows it by heart, of course, has done since the moment he saw it, but that doesn't make looking at it any easier. Jason doesn't belong here, not if there was any justice in this world. He ought to be still alive, still laughing and being a general little shit and bouncing over trips to the bookstore or new deliveries from Wilde's in Kensington, not…not here, beneath a granite cross.

And it has been a while since Dick's been able to visit. Everything with Bludhaven kind of devoured his life - almost literally, especially over the past half a year - and now with Bludhaven gone…well, here he is. And feelng guilty as hell about it. Sure, it's only been a year since his last visit, but even so. He could have made time earlier.

With a soft sigh he settles on the ground beside the headstone, laying the small bouquet of flowers he brought at its base. Jason's favorites; he can still remember that, even after all this time. Leaning against the stone Dick stares at the grass, lost in thought. Where should he begin…?

"Bruce is doing okay," he says quietly. "Alfred, too, and Babs. She and Alfred trade recipes sometimes; she gave him one for a cinnamon cookie the other day that you would've loved. I'm back in town now, at least for a while, so I'll try to come visit more."

A pause. Dick's hand runs over the grass idly. "…I miss you, y'know. We all do. I know I've said it before, but I-…I should've been there for you. More than I was. Hell, I should've been there at all. You were a good kid - a helluva good kid - and I was…I was too busy being angry at Bruce to bother seeing it. I've…I've tried to make up for that, with Tim. Tried to be there for him, so I don't fail him the way I failed you. I think it's been working, for the most part, so there's that."

He falls silent then, hand still tracing over the grass. At this hour, with the sun's last rays shining over the horizon, the cemetery's deserted except for him; there's no one to really hear if he keeps speaking aloud. That's why he chose now to visit, to ensure he won't be disturbed. The words keep coming after a few more moments.

"…A part of me wonders if you hate me for that. For not being there. For failing you. You've got every right to; you deserved better than that. I should've been better than that. I should've been there. But I wasn't. Not even when you needed me most. I'd hate me for that; I can't blame you if you do."

He laughs softly then, hollow and mirthless. "I've let everyone down, it seems…You, and now Babs, and Bruce…and Bludhaven…But hell, you don't want to hear me whining about that," he adds with a shake of his head. "I know I wouldn't. And you're probably tired as hell of me apologizing, but…what else can I do? I can't change the past. Can't make it up to you, not really…best I can do is just try to learn from my mistakes and not fuck things up again. Doesn't feel like enough, some days, but what choice have I got?"

Dick sighs again, eyes sliding closed as his head rests against the gravestone. "…I miss you, little wing. I'm sorry I never told you that before. I'm sorry I'm saying it so late now. I'm sorry I couldn't be the brother you deserved. And I promise I'll visit more often now I'm back in town. I owe you that much at least."

[the-ipre]

[id: a digital drawing of Faiden and Zol, two Star Wars ocs, as they hug. Faiden is a blue Theelin with a large fluffy tail and puffy orange hair, wearing a flowy top and white armor with orange paint on her hips. Zol is an orange Zabrak with a few broken horns, wearing all black with long pointed gloves. He has his face buried in Faiden's shoulder as he hugs her, hands balled in her shirt, and she hugs him back just as tightly /end id]

these siblings will be the death of me

[autism-corner]

dad wont let me be excited about my new wounds which he attributes to the horrors >:(

[prismit]

cool, so i'm literally never gonna get this lucky ever again in my life!

[littleprincepaladin]

[vgilantee]

yea but you're out in the woods and ethan still doesn't know its you with the sweet scent thats drawing him in and once he catches up to you in the woods, imagine his reaction??

he's not thinking with the head on his shoulders, because the smell is so sweet, it is making him drool and making his blood rush south. he doesn't know who it is, that carries the unique scent of his mate, but ethan is not going to stop following the scent until he finally finds who it is

when he sees you around the bend, he rolls his eyes and goes to walk away, assuming that whoever his mate is was in the area before, or had spoken to you. but as he turned, the scent moved behind him. still toward you

tentatively, ethan walks over to you, all but glaring as the smell seems to grow stronger the closer he gets to you. when you finally spot him, you open your mouth to tell him to fuck off or to send an insult at him, but he holds up his hand, head tilted disgustingly adorably, a look on his face you can't quite decipher

"the fuck do you want, ethan?" he hisses out a 'shh' and you gawp at him. the fuck did he mean "shh"??

"you have got to be fucking kidding me..." he says it to himself entirely, in disbelief over,,, something.

"ethan." saying his name again seems to get his attention. "what are you doing?" ethan lets out a sigh then steps closer to you. it's probably the closest you've ever been to each other.

"just shut up for once in your goddamn life," and before you can tell him to go fuck himself, "just, smell" the way he tells you to smell, you know he doesn't mean with your human senses. so you pause and take a long deep breath, and just as you're about to ask him what he wants, you freeze

"oh my god. you can't be serious"

"exactly"

[kozzax]

drift away is so good. say what you want about steven universe but drift away and spinel in general are just. theyre so good. theyre so dear to my heart. i love them.

[jankwritten]

I'm in a sickly sweet romance kind of mood and just had a funny story idea.

Character A is just randomly searching around for music on Spotify/Youtube or something like that, gets bored (or is somehow struck with the idea) and decides to search their own full name, just to see.

To their surprise, there's a playlist. A playlist with over 100 songs, even, and for a second they think, no, there's no way this is a playlist that means them, maybe they just have a more common name than they thought or something.

They listen to a couple songs on the playlist, though, and realize that more than a handful of them are songs that they like. Songs that they've listened to for years, songs they play in the car with their friends or songs they choose at parties whenever they're asked for suggestions. It's not a coincidence - some of those songs aren't even popular, songs from local bands they'd heard play at coffee shops or campuses or stuff like that. This has to be connected to them, specifically.

And it's not just full of Character A's favorite music, either - there are love songs on there that they've never heard before. Songs about longing. They read through the lyrics on some of the songs they don't recognize and can't help but ache about whatever has caused the creation of the playlist in the first place. It's obvious that someone has a crush on them, someone who knows them well enough to piece together their music taste and knows that they're largely unlikely to do exactly what led to them finding the playlist at all, search their own name. (the rest is under a read more because this got a little long)

They go to the account associated with the playlist, but there's really nothing identifiable. The username isn't anything Character A recognises, the PFP is just some shot of the sky/stars/whatever that could be pulled from google images, and there's only one other public playlist, titled "for work". They scroll through that playlist, but it's largely generic or instrumental music. It could belong to anybody.

OFC, they don't tell their friends about the discovery. They feel guilty about it, but they think that if it was one of their friends, they'd just take the playlist off public or delete it altogether, and they don't want that, not to mention they don't want to make one of their friends potentially feel worse about whatever situation is apparently going on there. So they start listening, instead, and paying attention; they keep track of who's around when they play what music, keep track of which friends listen to what, that kind of thing.

It...sort of spirals. Character A suddenly has their own playlists with their friends names (and unsurprisingly Character B's playlist has the most songs added, since they hang out the most) that they're meticulous with, but they're no closer to figuring out the owner of the original paylist itself. There have been more songs added to it - some soft country music, a newer pop song that Character A played on a loop for a week when it first came out, stuff like that - but none of it is helpful.

And it spirals worse, once Character A realizes that their own playlist for Character B has started to almost...parallel, the original playlist. Not that the songs are the same, but that Character A (famously bad at recognizing their own feelings) almost seems to feel that way toward their own friend.

The guilt gnaws further in, since they assume that the original playlist's maker can't be Character B for whatever reason would make sense in-context.

One day, they hear one of the songs from the original playlist while they're out somewhere with their group of friends, and it's one of the songs that really, Character A wouldn't have found on their own without The Playlist, so when they know the words and hum along, the whole group seems almost taken aback. And ofc immediately start in, because it's one of the more pining, romantic songs, and oooo, that must mean Character A has a crush or something along those lines.

This becomes where Character A comes clean and admits that a few months ago (or however long, maybe less time depending on who Character A winds up being) they found the playlist with their name, but didn't say anything since it seemed like it was made by somebody they knew and they didn't want to embarrass anyone. They also admit that they still don't know who made it, so if that person didn't want to come clean, they didn't have to.

Nobody comes clean. Character A feels a little disappointed (and they definitely avoid looking at Character B for the rest of the day) but they move on with it.

The playlist doesn't get privated. Character A keeps listening to it.

Eventually, some time later, Characters A & B are out somewhere, and Character A makes a comment about liking the song on the radio, which they search (wow, they've gotten very good at searching for songs that they don't really know, haven't they?) and discover is an old song from an artist who's not really well known nowadays. They add it to their library to listen to later and continue on their way, hanging out with Character B and wondering if they can tell that anything is different, that Character A has drastically changed how they behave in those few months (or whenever) between discovering the playlist, discovering how they feel for Character B, and now.

They go home. Character A resolves that they probably cannot continue like this, pining after their best friend while aware that somebody who knows them (maybe somebody in that friend group, even) has the same soppy-sad crush. The only thing they can do is act on their own feelings and hope nobody gets hurt.

The next morning, they check the playlist.

The new song, the one they only just heard the once yesterday, the one they told Character B made them feel fuzzy and nice, is there, at the very bottom.

Character A's heart stalls out.

Things become limbo - both Characters A & B are aware now, aware of each other and that they both must know, must have figured it out, but neither of them want to act first because they're still unsure, they're both still stuck in the "but what if" phase where they think the other could be lying, or it could be coincidence. It's not weird, not really. They still hang out. Their friends notice something is different, but nobody points it out. If Character A tucks Character B's hair behind their ear and smiles at them like they're the only one in the room more often than not, nobody says anything.

I think it would resolve something like: Character A finally sends Character B the link to their own playlist when they can't take it anymore, with something stupid and sappy spelled out by the titles of the last few songs in the playlist, and Character B says yes (or otherwise responds in kind to the thing that was written out) and they all live happily ever after (and are teased mercilessly by their friends for it, ofc).

[steampoweredskeleton]

.

Ignore

[chungle]

i think it'd be so goofy if i started using tumblr again

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

you’ve been katsuki’s for as long as you can remember.

sure, he had never outwardly called you his girlfriend, but when you were both seven years old, he came up to you. chest heaving slightly from running up and down the hill where he had gotten you a freshly plucked out bouquet of flowers. the roots were still clinging to them and he got dirt all over your hands from forcibly grabbing them and shoving the bouquet in them before you could even form a sentence.

“since you accepted the flowers, you’re mine now.” he mumbled, his little hands tightened into fists at his sides and chubby cheeks a cute shade of pink, staring at you as confidently as he could.

a grin grows on his face when you respond with a simple “okay !” and a bright smile. the grin on his face never disappears even as his mom scolds him for getting you both all dirty.

you were katsuki’s in middle school too, when the boys in class decided to play kiss, marry, kill and he had somehow gotten dragged into it. the girls in your class tried their best to seem uninterested, claiming the boys were being childish, but you noticed how hard some of them were straining their ears trying to hear what the guys were talking about in their own little corner of the room. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little curious as well.

katsuki was as ruthless as you’d known him to be, choosing to kill any girl that wasn’t to his liking, which ended up being all of them. much to the other boys’ chagrin, claiming he had no taste.

then your name was brought up.

at that, his eyes widened and he turned in his seat to see if you were watching. you had never turned your head away so fast in your life and you were pretty sure you heard something go “crack”.

he clicked his tongue. mumbling something about how stupid the game was before muttering out a “kiss yn, marry yn and kill that other bitch.” before getting up and stomping away, claiming he had to go to the bathroom followed closely by the whoops and hollers of his two friends behind him.

you both made eye contact when he walked out and you think you’ll never forget how red his cheeks were.

you were katsuki’s when he was the one to walk you to and from school everyday, claiming you would somehow get lost without him. you were katsuki’s when he had begrudgingly shoved homemade valentines day chocolates into your arms, mumbling something about how you had been upset nobody had gotten you anything last year, conveniently leaving out the fact he had scared off all the other guys trying to offer you anything.

you were katsuki’s when he grabbed your hand during the winter because he said you’d “end up dying of hypothermia with the way you’re chittering over there.” and you were his when you were the only person he laughed around. loud, genuine laughter that you and only you could squeeze out of him. you were katsuki’s when he randomly kissed you goodnight at your door one night and he’s been doing it ever since, and gets all pouty when you turn away from his kisses to tease him.

“are we dating ?” you had asked him. you’re both in high school now and you’re in his dorm room. your legs are on his lap and he’s got a comfortable grip on your leg, which tightens after he registers your questions “hah?” he looks utterly confused and a little insulted as he looks back at you, his entire face scrunched up in confusion. you pinch his nose and he swats at your hand.

“are we dating ? like—am i your girlfriend.” you say again and katsuki’s face scrunches up even harder. he huffs and looks back at his phone, landing a little smack on your leg still placed in his lap. “ ‘course yer my fuckin’ girlfriend.” he spits out, obviously irritated. then he looks back at you “I haven’t made it obvious ?” he says sarcastically. one of his eyebrows lifted as he pokes at your leg still very much in his lap.

you simply shrug “s’not that. it’s just because you’ve never actually asked me out before, so i was a little confused on where we stood.” you mumble. he stares at you while you speak and he stares a little longer before sighing. then he leans towards you and flicks your forehead.

“ow !”

“dumbass.” he murmurs. there’s a slight pout on his face and his cheeks are light shade of pink when he looks you in the eyes again. he grabs both your cheeks with one hand and smushes them together to push your lips out and presses multiple wet kisses onto them that have you squealing and squirming. his wet lips are pulled into a smirk when he pulls back and you try your best to at least look a little angry, you really do. but it’s useless when he looks at you like that.

“of course you’re my girlfriend” he reiterates. his smirk’s been replaced for something softer, something more sincere as he gazes at you with so much unadulterated affection it makes your head spin a little. “you’ve always been mine.” he says it in a teasing tone and his hand is still smushing your cheeks out and it hurts a little but his eyes are still the same. they’re warm and soft and so, so enamored with you and only you.

when he finally let’s go of your face and pulls you fully into his lap, you realize katsuki’s been yours for as long as you’ve been his.

you smile brightly at him but turn your nose up when he leans in to kiss you again. “i still haven’t heard what i wanna hear though, mr. bakugou.”

he rolls his eyes and pinches at your thigh as he mumbles out a “don’t call me that.” sighing, he looks at you intensely and you suddenly feel very shy.

“will you be my girlfriend, ya shitty girl ?” and he says it as a joke, you both know it is cus his lips are already forming into a smirk the second he finishes his sentence. and you’re pulling at his nose the moment you register it, but you’re both smiling hard. he laughs and you’re sure you’ll never get tired of the sound. “what’s your answer, pretty ?” he asks playfully and you pretend to really think it over just to mess with him, and giggling out a “yes!” when he suddenly pounces on you. flipping you both over and tickling you mercilessly, calling it revenge for you “taking too damn long to answer.”

you’d been katsuki’s for as long as you can remember, and you hope you can be forever.