Same My Guy

we need these everywhere

UC or ER?

Megumi kisses you for the first time on Valentine's Day. It's a simple thing really, a gentle maneuver so swift you don't have time to question it.

The TV screen flashes with each change in angle, painting your apartment's living room with the vivid tones of cinema. The soundtrack booms against your ears— or as much as it can, coming from those tiny speakers.

Your just-as-single-and-lonely partner for today has been awfully quiet tonight, considering he picked this year's movie. You glance at Megumi, expecting to see him slouched and half asleep like usual, only to find long lashes and pretty green eyes already staring back at you. He seems surprised, caught in the act or whatever you want to say, but he doesn't shy away.

He's thinking— you can tell by the look on his face. His brows furrow and he bites at his lip. "What are yo–"

Oh.

His lips taste like strawberry soda, syrupy sweet in all the best ways. A calloused palm cups your cheek, gently coaxing you further into him. Before you can breathe, before you can blink, he pulls away, tongue darting out to savor the lingering taste of you.

He's thinking again, because he's staring at you again, and you hope to God he's wants to kiss you a second time. You'd do it yourself if you weren't so stunned, heart jackhammering out of your chest as you try to process what he just did.

There’s a pretty blush blooming across his cheeks, the tips of his ears most definitely hot to the touch. He goes to speak, lips parting on an inhale, but decides against it, opting to push back a stray hair from your forehead.

He doesn't kiss you again, and he doesn't say anything about it either. He just turns back to the TV, trying his hardest not to let his breath catch in his throat. He puts on a passive face, but underneath the mask, you know Megumi is nervous. Oh-so nervous that in trying to control his breathing, he forgets to stop the tremor in his hands. Lithe fingers toy with themselves in his lap, cracking knuckles that don't need to pop and wiping his palms on gray sweatpants.

It's your turn to stare at him, to wonder if you can ask all the questions racing through your head, like what the hell that was for and what he meant by it.

An explosion on the screen steals your attention for a split second, and when you turn back to the boy who just kissed you— the boy who is nervously fidgeting on your couch after the fact, you can't help the soft smile that tugs on corners of your mouth.

You don't say a word. Instead, you lean into his side, resting your head on his shoulder and pretending not to notice the tension leave his body.

Valentine's Day was always fun with Megumi, but this year feels a little extra special. Perhaps there was some extra love floating around just for the two of you.

💌 — :0 whaaa?! a letter?

i hope you enjoy this little drabble for the cutest holiday in the world. inspiration struck when i was daydreaming about my stupid bf, and i couldn't resist writing about him. also, i wrote this incredibly fast, so i'm sorry for the quality/any mistakes lol. happy valentine's day to all the lovely people in my computer screen. xoxo, somi <3

This is not from your fic but could you do a small scenario of Nanami interacting with his baby? I swear those dad!Nanami headcanons made me so soft

okay i was going to write a scenario with a baby baby but then this kinda hit me and i had to go with it instead!

wc is ~1k bc i'm down bad for dad!nanami

gn!reader, unnamed daughter, hint of angst but mostly fluff (i think)

"Tadaima!" you call, kicking off your shoes with a sigh and nudging them to the side. They splay out beside Nanami's shoes, neatly tucked away.

There's no patter of little feet scrambling to the genkan. No soft, pleased rumble of okaeri as louder footsteps follow in their wake. You fish out your phone.

Nanami picks up on the second ring, his stoic greeting softened by the way it sounds when he calls you sweetheart.

"Where'd you go?" you ask.

He sighs. "I left a note."

"I didn't read it."

"Clearly," he says, but his voice is warm, all summer honey. "We're at the park. We'll head home in a few minutes."

"What, I don't get to have fun at the park?"

He sighs again, heavier this time. You bite down on your laugh. "Come join us, then," he says.

"I'll be there in just a minute."

He pauses. "She wanted to go to Hanegi."

"You're a sucker," you tell him, slipping your shoes back on.

"I'm aware."

"I'll be there in twenty, then."

He says something muffled. You don't need to hear the words to know he's talking to your daughter; it's in his voice, affection stitched quiet into his tone, a patchwork quilt of love sewn soft on his tongue. She chatters back at him, her voice a burbling spring brook.

"Okay," Nanami says distantly, and then he's clear again as he says, monotone: "Apparently twenty minutes is too long. You're supposed to walk faster."

You snort. "I'll do my best. See you soon."

"See you soon, sweetheart."

You walk to Hanegi, passing by the park just down your street—small but serviceable, the paths to the playground lined with overflowing flowers, their petals crinkled at the edges, summer's last stand.

It's easy to find them when you arrive; the playground has begun to empty as it gets later. You pause for a moment and just watch.

Nanami's on one knee, his broad body dwarfing your daughter. She wiggles in place as he ties her shoe, his big hands deft. You can hear the rumble of his voice as he murmurs to her, but the words are lost in the space between you.

He checks her other shoe before pulling back. Your daughter reaches out and pats him on the cheek with a chubby hand. He catches it and presses a little kiss against her palm before getting to his feet.

He watches her run back to a little circle of children. Nanami can be difficult to read at the best of times, but what sweeps over his face now is stark. It's gone within a breath, but you think you'll never forget it.

"Hi," you say, sidling up to him as he leans down to brush off his knee. "I told you we should get the velcro shoes."

He rolls his eyes. "Then she'll never learn," he says, straightening up and pressing a brief kiss to the corner of your lips.

"Is she learning if you're doing it for her?"

He pinches at your side. Your yelp is half laughter, and he moves out of the way without looking when you try to pinch him back. But then his hand is on your hip, and you lean into the warmth of him. Across the way, your daughter shrieks out a laugh as she chases another little girl.

"When do you leave?" you ask quietly.

His fingers flex on your hip. "Tomorrow morning."

You let out a soft breath. "Okay," you say.

The two of you watch your daughter play—calling out to her at times, until Nanami is roped into pushing her on the swing, with her indifferent to your pout when she shuts down your defense of your pushes in comparison to his—until the promise of night is settling over the horizon.

Nanami calls her name. She comes trotting over, hair mussed and eyes bright. He leans down to take her hand for the walk home, his hand engulfing her tiny one.

You've just made it out of the park when she starts dragging her feet. "Daddy," she says, tugging at his hand. "'M tired."

Nanami raises a brow. "If you want something, you should ask politely," he says, but he's already bending down to sweep her up. He perches her on his hip, cradles her small form to him with excruciating delicacy.

Sucker, you mouth at him. He ignores you.

"Sorry," she grumbles, burying her face into his chest.

He presses a kiss to her hair. It doesn't quite hide the quirk of his lips, and the fondness tucked secret into that small smile swells in you, washes over you like the tide, an endless sea too vast for your body.

"Kento," you say suddenly, breathlessly. "Let's go to the okonomiyaki stall for dinner."

Your daughter perks up immediately, turning her small face towards him, a flower seeking sun.

Nanami glances at you. "We'd be out past her bedtime."

"I know."

He considers you for a moment, his dark eyes knowing. They're mesmerizing in the quickly fading sunlight. "Alright," he says.

Your daughter giggles with delight.

"What do you want in yours?" he asks her, already heading in the direction of the stall, his hand warm at the small of your back, keeping you close.

You barely hear her reply. You're too busy watching them, committing them to memory, from the glint of Nanami's golden hair to the delicate brush of his fingers on her cheeks to the way her cheeks puff out as she squirms.

He pauses for a moment to press his forehead against hers, whispering something too quiet for you to catch. She beams at him, and he smiles back, his fingers tracing little patterns against you, and it feels like coming home.

i feel like bakugou only does fwb because mina tries to explain to his wound up ass that sometimes adults just have consensual sex for the fun of it.

like maybe it starts as an accident, or unplanned; somehow, she managed to get two mixed drinks in him — which is two drinks too many — and you're all at denki's birthday party and he's having a little more fun than he's willing to ever admit, and you're there, some friend of jirou's, and before he knows it, his face is flushed and he's staring at you a little too obviously from across the room.

you're pretty, that's all. and even though he's got this big dumb scar on his face and hands and chest and shoulders and — you're looking at him, too. making a face at him when something funny happens, eyes wide, lips curled into some amused smile; mouthing things to him, like he's wasted when denki falls and brings the curtains down with him. you're interacting but not, and did he really expect mina not to notice ???

"you should go talk to her!"

bakugou's reaction is a little slow, but just as intense; eyebrows furrowed, teeth grit, nostrils flared, as if she just suggested he kill his own grandma or something. "stay the hell outta my business."

unphased, she grabs one of his shoulders, fingernails diggiing in when he tries to shake her off. "c'mon, she's cute! and you two have been making googly eyes at each other all night!"

and — okay, he doesn't say anything to that, even though he definitely has not been making fucking googly eyes at you. it just takes him by surprise a little, that's all, that she thinks you've been making googly eyes at him. whatever that means. but the alcohol has set in enough that he's a little too transparent, a little too quick to bare his insecurities.

unthinking, he swivels his head back to stare at you, how you're smiling and chatting with some girl you came with, sticking your tongue out at him when you notice him looking, before he's swiveling to face back at mina again.

"the fuck am i supposed to say? i don't ever—" chat up strangers, he means, because — he never knows what the fuck to say. and it seems like a waste of time, usually, because he's got to reveal himself little by little and hope the other person doesn't run off crying because he hurt their feelings or something.

he's busy. hell, mina knows that better than anyone because her schedule isn't any looser than his, so it's not like he's really got time to date right now, and even if he did, he wouldn't have the time to devote to it that he probably should. it's why he's avoided it this long, and he makes a habit of steering clear of this subject with everyone, especially her, because she's always saying things like—

"you seriously need to get laid, blasty! maybe some of the pressure will release from your big head!"

and then he's attracting too much attention by trying to blast her to smithereens; something about alcohol makes him fourteen again, too quick to whip out the die!'s and sparking palms.

it also throws off his balance a little, because he doesn't really want to turn her to dust and so he's not fighting as hard and she's almost got him in a headlock when you walk up, laughing at how much they resemble clumsy, overgrown children.

as soon as mina sees you, she's up on her feet and saying, "he's totally clean, practically a virgin!" before he can actually, really, truly end her young life. and you laugh some more when his face goes beet red and he means to insist that that's not true — it is — but you sit too close beside him on the couch and it's like he's taken a large sip of one of mina's too-strong drinks all over again.

"you know," you start, crossing one leg over another so that it's brushing against his knee. "you're a lot funnier than i thought you'd be."

and bakugou has zero game sober, so he says, "...well...you dunno shit about me, so..."

"no, i guess i don't," you snort, leaning a little further into him, grin widening when his cheeks darken at your proximity. "but i'd like to learn."

no. he's not gonna tell anyone that you fucked in sparkplug's guestroom. zero. nobody. taking it to the grave, because he's really not that kind of guy. and there's already this out of control rumor about him in the media that he's some sado-masochist hard dom and he's not really trying to fuel that fire.

okay, he doesn't tell anyone except mina, because she's the one that got him into the whole thing in the first place.

"it's really not a big deal, kats." she says it to him over breakfast in her overdecorated, over-pink kitchen, smirking at him from across the bar counter where he's chugging some green drink she concocted. "people hook up with strangers all the time."

"well, i fuckin' don't." he grumbles, frowning at the heart pattern on her dinner plates. the too-large glasses she's given him to block out the sun aren't helping. more for show than anything, he thinks.

"not like i want to know all the raunchy details but," —she and bakugou share a grimace at the thought— "didn't you have at least a little bit of fun?"

okay, he did.

you're — carefree, in the sense that nothing was too serious, too awkward. this isn't something bakugou does on the regular so it maybe might have been a while, but — you were fine with that. didn't mind at all, seemed to be just as content sitting naked on top of him, tracing the ugly lines over his chest and across his shoulders and at his hip and —

he also learned his refractory period is about 12 minutes. and that yours is about 45 seconds.

yeah, he can admit that he had a decent time with you, but the problem isn't that he hooked up with some stranger.

the problem is that he kinda liked watching you through hazy eyes as you walked your fingers up his chest, fiddling with his ear and pushing his hair up off his forehead. that he kinda liked pulling your legs up around his hips because you fit together a little better than he expected. that he didn't know you would feel so good or sound so sweet underneath him.

the problem is that sex makes him vulnerable and that's the real reason he avoids it so much. the problem is that he doesn't really want to hook up with strangers.

the problem is that now he just wants you.

Some summery wave studies! Inspired by Henry Wong’s gorgeous water studies that he did a few months back.

and though i can’t recall your face, i still got love for you ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

megumi fushiguro x reader | wc: 0.9k | L’s FOLKLORE event

The last thing he wanted to do was agree to this mission. 

He tried nearly anything and everything to get out of it. Offered it up to Kugisaki (who’s been dying to get out of Japan for quite some time now), tried to fill his schedule with local tasks to feign busy, faked a head cold the day of his departing flight. Incredibly desperate, he even told Gojo he was thinking of quitting sorcery—his knowing guardian saw right through his fib, having raised him as the dedicated helper he is today. 

It was a long one, the longest one he’s been on, yet. Months and miles away from his home, where he’d have to leave you alone in a space the two of you were meant to share. 

But that’s what a sorcerer does, what they have to do. Megumi knows this, and he knows that you know this, too. However, that doesn’t make the situation at hand any easier. 

He hesitantly agreed to the mission after a lot of begging and pleading, not because he knew it was the right thing to do, but because of the promise the two held yourselves to. 

One call a day, no more and no less, to make time for you—to feel together, though apart.

And if there’s one thing Megumi’s good at, it’s keeping his word. 

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happy mothers day to the mothers of palestine who have lost their children and to the mothers who were forced to give birth and be separated from their children in congo.

happy chinese new years eve eve for anyone who’s celebrating !!!!!!!!!!!!

Need this energy right now.