Milk-tea-and-memories - Your Reservations, Fuck 'em

no fault on her of course because as an american it can be hard to get information from any other angle other than what the us provides, but this is 100% just another piece of crude propaganda used by the us to start conflict in china and create anti china support from us citizens. the hair has nothing to do with the so called prisoners in concentration camps. spreading awareness is lovely but it does good to look past the propaganda (not just from the us) and try to get at the un-manipulated facts

✧*࿐random cute texts: jjk ✧˖*࿐

✧ft: satoru, yuuta, yuuji, megumi & nanami

✧note: trying to get back into posting again. enjoy!!

✧ want your own customized texts from your favs? commissions are open!

"i find myself running home to your sweet nothings"

summary | it’s always a rough day for katsuki. hero rankings and PR nightmares every time he opens his mouth. but he gets to come home to you

pairing | bakugo katsuki x fem!reader

word count | 840

warning | soft!domestic katsuki, fluff.

a/n | this is very literally based off sweet nothings by taylor swift, so you can listen if you want the full experience. also, i haven't posted in two months, so i'm sorry if this sucks. <3

—

katsuki drops his bracers at the door with a heavy sigh. he's only just got his boots off and tucked in the corner, when he hears your voice calling him from the kitchen.

"'suki?"

he feels the smile pulling at his lips entirely unbidden.

the soft notes of that song that's been stuck in your head (and by extension, his) plays from the speaker in the corner.

"hey honey," you smile, leaning up to give him a kiss when he's in range.

he'll never be able to explain how that title makes his heart clench. he couldn't verbalize how every title he's obtained has not mattered until you gave him that one. pro-hero, number 2, explosive, dynamight.

your title feels so intimate on your lips, reducing him to the man who would fall at his knees for you.

not a pro-hero or number 2. not a ticking time bomb or a hot-head.

just your honey. your husband. yours, yours, yours.

"how was your day?" you ask, still stirring the pot as you turn the stove down.

"it was alright," he mumbles. in truth his day was rough, and he's not ready to talk about it, and he knows you can tell by the way you reach your free hand out to swipe your fingers along his cheek.

you smile up at him, pinching his cheek. "you wanna wash up? dinner's almost done." when he nods slowly, closing his eyes against the feelings of your fingers, you give him a little laugh.

in the bathroom, he works with the skin care products you left on his side of the counter, the dry winter air has been harsh on his quirk and his skin.

he thinks back to the agency, to the hero rankings, to the disapproving stares of civilians when he lets out loud curses and swears. the scolding he received from his manager today. the article comparing his pros and cons against the number 1 pro hero deku.

the water runs over his chest as he tilts his face into the stream, still trying to catch his breath from the incredibly long week he's had.

by the time he's toweled off and dressed in his sweats, the tension has worked it's way up into his back and across his shoulders.

"katsu?" your voice rings out and he's immediately following the sound back to the front door. he snorts when he sees you trying to push his bracers into the corner near his shoes. "how the hell do you put these things on for hours at a time? oh my god."

bakugo only laughs when he picks up both bracers with ease, your shocked gasp ringing out in the hallway.

"you're so strong, katsuki."

and that's it. your praise comes so easy. the fantastic feats that he performs still awe you. even something as simple as his above average strength elicits cheer from you.

it doesn't matter that he does it everyday, or that it's expected of him, you treat every act like it's the most incredible thing you've ever seen. and bakugo tries to fight the blush creeping up on his cheeks when you say these things.

even after all these years, he hasn't gotten used to your praise.

you're quickly setting a plate in front of him, taking the seat right next to him. recounting the events of your day, catching your boyfriend up on your workplace drama, and your recent purchases is enough to take you both through dinner.

by the time you've got him laid on the couch, your favorite candle is lit in the middle of the coffee table, and you two are talking softly.

his head rests on your chest, his ear pressed right over your heart. your fingers work softly against the ache in his shoulder, somehow finding the right spots to touch. these are nights when he needs you to take him down and you always do so with ease. he groans softly at the tender strength in your touch.

"i like the way you sound."

and there you go again. how do you split him open with a just a few words?

"its so pretty. especially when you talk, and when you laugh, i think that's my favorite sound."

you're calling him pretty. like his body isn't a fucking live wire ready to go off when he sweats. like the natural production of his glands don't cause explosions. like people aren't out there wondering if he should be a villain because of the force of his quirk.

of course the power thrumming through his veins is nothing compared to you. to the person he is when he's resting between your legs, letting you pet and coo at him until he's pliant and soft.

you bathe him in compliments, your adoration of him washes the shitty week off his skin and coats him in a thick layer of your love.

his prickly edges become rounded and soft against your gentle touch. refining him to be composed entirely of your sweet nothings.

—

❝ ANGEL

♡ gn!reader x gojo satoru

cw: hurt/ comfort, established relationship

synopsis: gojo is so unserious, but he loves you more than you’ll ever know

wc: 1400+

notes from mei!

hello guys it’s been so long! i’ve rewatched jjk AND WATCHED JJK 0 FINALLY and felt very inspired to write lol (i fully believe gojo is a ginormous piece of shit)

i’m very rusty but i hope u enjoy!

you’ve always known satoru was far different from what people portrayed. he’s so conceited that it’s painful, but you know it’s just because he has insecurities of his own that he feels the need to hide.

he’s not as much of a ladies man as people say—of course, he can have anyone he wants, but he's only ever wanted to be yours.

i’m your perfect match, satoru says, no one can compare!

he’s scared of never-ending cycles and repeated mistakes—of things he should be able to control but somehow can’t—frankly, satoru is the epitome of bullshit.

it’s only now you’ve realized that satoru is the most flawed human you’ll probably ever meet—he’s a wuss who never stops complaining, his mouth going on and on like a never-ending siren. his favourite hobby is to get on people’s nerves then treat himself to that expensive bakery downtown.

satoru is so excellent that his flaws are dimmed by the blinding lights of his perfections.

he can get away with just about anything work wise—but with you and your relationship, there’s a line he constantly loves to jump over, even when he knows you'll never let it slide.

“satoru come on,” you say, hand reaching for his, but as you draw closer you feel a slight resistance, unable to touch him. you draw your hand back, taken aback from his behaviour.

you sigh, quiet and drawn out. gojo feels a chill run through his body as immediate regret pumps through his veins.

"baby—"

"save it, satoru."

he bites his tongue, watching as your eyes glaze over. you turn away from him, crossing your arms as if you were giving yourself a much needed hug. it's silent in his... very large and luxurious penthouse living room and you're once again reminded of the social gap between you and satoru.

for a moment, you can hear the voices of everyone mocking your relationship—criticizing you, laughing at you for even thinking special grade sorcerer gojo satoru could have a soft spot for someone like you.

and you feel played. not by him, but by yourself for believing someone born from money and blessed with strength, could love someone like you—someone who came from nothing and had to work their way up and up, kissing ass and developing thick skin.

you don't think gojo will ever understand how privileged he is.

you also don't think he'll understand how bad he is for you.

"where do you think you're going?" he calls. you think carefully, sliding on your shoes as you undo the lock on his door.

"home."

it's been two days and as your tidying up your apartment, you hear a knock at your door.

you pause, already knowing exactly who it is.

a minute—maybe five passes as you don't hear another knock. you're unnerved because you still see the shadow of him through the very bottom of your door, stubborn as he always is.

you try not to breathe too loud or move too fast, but satoru's always a step ahead and as you're opening your window to escape through the emergency stairs, he's already there.

"that's cold, my love." he says, but it's missing his usual satoru-flare and you know he's not in usual mood.

you don't think you can stomach him being in front of you.

he's wearing his sunglasses, hair down with his hand making sure your window stays open. his other is stuffed in his pocket, casual and uncaring like he always is.

"that's rich coming from you."

satoru loves you.

and it's all he can think about as he looks at you.

he knows you're more hurt than angry, and it's taken him great restraint to not harass you—lovingly—over these past two days. and when he sees you, he realizes he definitely should’ve harassed you instead.

his eyes trace your frown, your posture that shuts him out. he wonders if he'll be able to fix his big mistake.

with you in front of him, gojo doesn't feel like he's the strongest anymore. all the words he prepared to serenade you back into his arms sounded like gibberish and no longer felt right.

"why are you here, satoru?" he doesn't miss the way your voice breaks, "why do you always do this to me?"

tears begin to clump in his your lashes, throat tightening as you stare at him in disbelief. the air is so tense. you feel like you've been stripped bare as a tear rolls down your cheek.

"you make me feel so loved," your voice shakes, "you lift me up so high and make me feel so proud to be me."

satoru wants to tell you that loving you feels so natural.

"but you're so mean," you cry. the tears are falling freely now and you're choking on your words. "you do all these—all these things, making me feel special and—and seen, only for you to neglect me and twist my words a week later, because you can't handle being treated the way you treat me!"

he wants to tell you that seeing you like this is eating him alive.

"you're so ignorant—are you kidding me? thinking i'm overreacting for getting mad th—that you cancelled on like, the third rescheduled date to take on a low-level mission? and when i confronted you about it, forgave you for it, you turn on your infinity when all i wanted to do was hug you?"

your arms fall to your side, sick of his face and the way he’s just standing there silent. "it wasn't even about the date. i feel like you're bored of me and everyone who said we wouldn't last—"

"don't finish that sentence." he interrupts, no longer able to bite his tongue. his lanky figure climbs through your window and you feel even more vulnerable now that he's in your space.

"i'll never get bored of you, you keep me on my toes too much." he lays his cards on the table, knowing this is the last chance he has to prove he loves you more than anything on this earth. "i know how harsh you are to yourself, so i celebrate your tiny achievements because i'm genuinely proud of everything you do. i'm aware that being the best at work doesn't mean i'll be the best boyfriend. i forget that sometimes...” you glare, “most times." he corrects.

satoru takes a careful step toward you. "i care about you—more than you know, i think. you don't deserve to be neglected at all, and you don't.." he inhales through his teeth, "you don't have to put up with me if you don't want to anymore. i know how hard i make it, and i know a sorry isn't going to make it better."

you don't think you've ever seen satoru look so small.

"i can't ask you to stay with me, but we both know how selfish i am, so i'll beg you to stay with me anyways."

he doesn't miss the quick upturn of your lips. but it disappears as fast as it came.

you break eye contact and he feels his world shatter.

"how are you going to fix this?"

"...by reminding you i'm your perfect match?" he squeaks.

you sigh, "you're so unserious."

lanky arms wrap around your figure, caging you against his chest. you close your eyes, naturally sinking into his embrace. "i won't blame you if you break up with me, but i'll just let you know i'll definitely drop dead and you'll be responsible for killing the strongest sorcerer in the universe."

"that doesn’t sound that bad. everyone would know me and fear me—you know how popular i’d be?”

he's silent for a good, long second. "that's cold, my love."

it's so childish, in the way that he speaks. but in a way, he just revealed more to you than his semi-serious little monologue could ever do.

satoru is such a wuss, but he's never had someone love him like you do and he malfunctions. he can't fathom the thought of losing you, but also can't stomach the fact he's not good for you.

but he's trying. you know he is just from the way his knuckles brush against your cheek during the early hours of the morning; you know he's trying when he sneaks off during work to join you on your lunch break.

you know he’s trying because his students say he seems so gentle when he looks at you.

you know he's trying because he's here right now, after showing you he’s not the strongest despite everyone (and himself) proclaiming he is.

your arms curl around him and satoru gets his answer.

he's home.

hey guys I just remembered this gif

The chili plant made a deal with their God to only be consumed by things that could spread its seeds and fly. The chili received capsaicin, making itself painful to eat for mammals, but not birds, and all was well for the chili.

Then the human shows up, tastes it, and likes the pain. So now there's this flightless fucking mammal eating the chili. Like not even a fruit bat or anything, a flightless fucking mammal chomping on the chili.

What the fucking shit, God, cried the chili, I specifically requested the opposite of this.

Now hold on, wait a moment, replied the God who talks to plants but has no idea what the fuck these apes are going to do next. It might be something cool.

And in a flash of a second, in barely fraction of the time that chili took to develop capsaicin, the humans went from walking across land bridges and rowing little boats across small waters, into building ships that could cross oceans. More humans tasted the chili, and liked the pain. They took the seeds with them, and planted it elsewhere.

See? They spread the seeds.

They're still not flying, said the chili, still feeling insulted and betrayed.

But before the conversation was over, the humans were still not done fucking around and nowhere close to finding out. The ships became machines, and another machine was invented, capable of flight. Now, not only were the humans farming chili on continents far too far away for any of the birds that originally ate it could dream of flying, but the chili flew with them to lands where it could possibly not grow, so that humans over there could also eat it and enjoy the pain.

You see? They spread your seeds and fly.

It doesn't count as keeping a promise if you only manage it by a fucking accident, said the chili, still somewhat insulted. But nonetheless, the chili thrived.

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.

mutual pining with bakugou but you two are oblivious as hell at first. like, everyone can see, oh, they can. anybody can tell how he never berates you, he tolerates everything you do, and even give you his utmost attention whenever you speak. not to forget that he wouldn't mind shutting everyone up just so they can listen to what you're saying. so, he can listen to what you're saying. the thing is that you two just mingle very casually, too very naturally, that such things don't occur as a special treatment from him. it flows just as is.

but the simplest things escalate little by little. with time, he doesn't mind a little touch. bakugou likes it, honestly, but he'd rather die than admit it in front of everyone. he lets you but he never says a thing about it. like when you pull onto his hand, telling him to rush to the class. or when the hall to the canteen is busy that you would accidentally brushes your shoulder against his.

with time, too, he gets bolder and comfortable. he'd take your hand first. in a crowd full of people, you wouldn't have to worry you'd lost him because you can feel his touch on you. sometimes it's his hand on your lower back, or on your shoulder, or maybe, on your waist if he's feeling brave. bakugou will always make sure you're not out of his sight.

you two are literally inseparable even after graduation. time can be harsh on you two, but bakugou would always find an excuse to stand in front of your doorstep.

“patch me up, would you?” he'd say on some nights. on some other days, he'd just wait for you to open your door and just feel glad to see your face.

there's no ‘go out with me’ and there is no ‘what is our relationship?’ because words aren't needed to describe how you two could naturally mesh with one another. with time, it's clear that you need him and he probably needs you even more than he would ever admit to your face.

so it doesn't come as a surprise to everyone. when one day you two are professional pro-heros and you two casually mention to your friends—kirishima, mina, sero, kaminari, izuku—that you two are living together.

it supposedly should have not come as a surprise when one day he comes home after a very rough mission. with dried blood on his costume and sticky bandages on his arms. and he rushes to your shared bedroom, rummaging through his wardrobe and chest, looking for something.

it shouldn't surprise you that after watching his life flashed in front of his eyes, the first thing he wants to do is to go home and see you. to be home to you.

it shouldn't be weird that he'd turn around to see your confused face before he asks you to be his companion of life. “please, i can't see myself going another day without you. i may not be the best person around with my shitty temper. i know you deserve more, but despite that i know i would want nothing but to come home to you. after a shitty day, i would want to have you to be there and i promise i'll always be there on your shitty days too. so, would you please marry me?”

he'd rush his words, and it is so unlike him and he says it with the red velvet box he has kept as a secret ever since he gives you the key to this apartment. he places it onto your palm, hoping that you'd take it. wishing to every Gods that you wouldn't mind settling down with him. which you don't.

so, bakugou shouldn't be surprised that his question—or pleas, even, is being answered by your hug. tears brimming on your waterline and a trembling whisper of 'yes'.

after all, it comes as natural as how you two met since the very first day.

my sister had gall bladder removal surgery last week, and I owe $323. pic of the bill below for proof.

fortunately my insurance managed to cover most of it, but I still need help paying the remaining balance and money is very tight right now OTL

I would greatly appreciate it if anyone could reblog this around, thank you so much 😭😭

cash app is $reraimu

Venmo is @reraimu

PayPal is @reraimu

$130/323 as of 8/11/22