College Dbhwks!!

ʜᴜsʙᴀɴᴅ!ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ʜᴄs ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა

Nanami editors on TikTok are cooking a little too hard and now they got me all soppy about him ☹️

🎀 Husband!Nanami who’s manages to quell every single one of your outbursts without letting the situation scale into an argument. His way of approaching any relationship issues is just so inexplicably healthy, unlike anything you’ve experienced before. Whether you’re panicking, lashing out, or even crying he is present. Anything you have to say tumbles out of your mouth and when you’re done, his arms do all the talking as he tugs you close, rocking you back and forth in a soothing motion. All your emotions fizz away and you’re left a mushy mess in his arms, sniffling and nodding your head as he finally starts to talk you into calming down.

🌼 Husband!Nanami who is a big believer in spoiling you. Your hair is always glossy, your skin seems to glow from within, and your nails and clothes are nothing short but impeccable. But he also believes in spoiling you rotten with love. He has to hold you when it’s just you two alone, sitting you in his lap as his hands keep a reassuring grasp on your hips. And as you cling your arms around his neck and press your nose against his pulse, the world is quiet and peaceful and you feel like you’re falling in love all over again.

🎀 Husband!Nanami who is a sucker for feeling you scratch his back. It sounds a little strange but after a stressful day of work, all he wants is to strip down and flop onto the bed, knowing that you’ll always appear and give him what he wants. You insist on doing this anyways, settling your body on his lower back and raking your freshly manicured nails down his back to elicit rewarding little sounds from him. Low groans, gentle sighs, and cooes of “love you, baby” leave his lips and make their way to your ears, making you feel all fuzzy inside.

🌼 Husband!Nanami who lets you do makeup on him during his days off. Perched in his lap with him back against the headboard, you carefully curl his lashes before applying an even coat of mascara to his stubborn lashes. It’s not much makeup but it honestly suits him well; a cushion foundation, some concealer for his under eyes, and cheek and lip tint, and mascara. The fact your husband was so comfortable within his own skin and masculinity that you could doll him up so cutely made you giggle like a fool. And once you finish the everyday look, he’s so quick to ask about all the products and techniques you used with genuine care for what you have to say.

🎀 Husband!Nanami who slowly but surely becomes a biter. It all started when you tried to bite his cheeks while cuddling, only to pout when you nearly hit into his cheekbones. Of course he had to return to favor and nibbled on the squish of your cheeks, making you burst into laughter and squeals. From then on he’s expanded, leaving purplish love bites upon your chest and when you’re both feeling a little cheeky, on your collarbone and neck as well. It makes him flush with a little shame when he thinks about it, but the silent display of possessive affection never fails to leave him grinning like a child when he’s alone.

🌼 Husband!Nanami who has a photo of you everywhere and makes it known to anyone asking that yes, that lovely lady is his wife. His lock screen is a snapshot of your hands after a spa nail, pretty pink nails and a golden band that is your wedding ring. There's a small pic of you in his wallet from the times you were just starting to date, caught in a frenzied laughter after being told a joke. Ooh, and if anyone asks who you are after seeing such photos of you, he’ll say with all his chest “that’s my wife in these photos. I love her very much,” all while having a rare smile in public on his face.

🎀 Husband!Nanami who loves you like there’s no tomorrow. Who holds your hand everywhere outside and watches over you with critical eyes, glaring at anyone who even remotely gives you a strange look. He’s a man that drags out every kiss, a hand on your neck as he gently groans into your mouth. Who hugs you so tightly you feel like you’re about to burst at the seams, thick and burly forearms encircling your waist as you snuggle against his chest. This is where you belong, the both of you: nestled in each other in a heart-to-heart embrace.

he might be the love of my life

My favorite delulu take is Sukuna having a wife

That’s my oc btw

( :̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) messy layouts !? 🗯️ like or reblog if u save.

[ sakusa kiyoomi ]

sakusa loved you. in fact, he was practically fucking obsessed with you.

you were the love of his life. every thought that passed in his mind somehow reminded him of you, and every minute he was away felt like absolute hell. he would do anything for you to call out his name, and he would not hesitate trade eternal heaven just if it meant seeing you smile one last time.

however, now, you were the reason he wanted to bang his head against the wall until he passed out.

it wasn’t something you actively did. you were the perfect partner, after all. you took care of him, made sure he didn’t overwork himself, made him feel very loved, and appreciated him dearly.

it was actually something you didn’t do.

you never let him take care of you, and it drove him absolutely fucking insane, especially in times like these. you were avoiding his eyes as you sat across of him, clearly doing your best to look at everything but him as he stared at you, eyes wide in disbelief. “i’m sorry, repeat that?”

your shoulders dropped. “i ignored you during the weekend because i was… unstable, and i didn’t want my sad mood to ruin yours, so i dealt with it alone. it’s really not that big of a deal.”

sakusa stared at you blankly. he could remember breaking down multiple times in your arms, and you always pulled him into the comfort of your company, assuring him that he’s always welcome and that you loved taking care of him.

you always noticed even if he was just a little upset, and did everything possible to make his mood better. he could recall uncountable amounts of times were he cried over the silliest stuff, yet you always validated him and made sure he was okay.

the words coming out of your mouth truly flabbergasted him, and he continued staring at you. after a few seconds, you turned to him, frowning. “i already apologized for ignoring you. i’m sorry, okay? i just really didn’t want you to worry and—“

“are you fucking insane?”

you halted, before you sulked, giving him a small pout in response. “rude.”

“why the hell didn’t you come to me when you felt upset?” he stressed, bewildered. “i’m your boyfriend!”

you shrugged calmly. your nonchalance was starting to piss him off. “didn’t want to inconvenience you.”

“inconvenience—?!” he stammered, baffled. “you— inconvenience— oh my god!”

you blinked back, confused. “…why are you shocked? my words are very logical. i was very upset, so i thought about what would be best for you and i followed it.”

for the first time, sakusa was truly astonished. he stared at you, face blank as your words repeated in his head, before he cleared his throat. “[y/n]?”

“…yeah?”

“do you love me?”

you arched an eyebrow. “obviously.”

“then, for the love of god, please call me the next time you’re upset.”

you scoffed loudly, as if he was the unreasonable one. “don’t be ridiculous—“

his jaw dropped. you thought he was the ridiculous one?

“—why would i do that? i would burden you. that makes no sense. i thought you were smart, kiyoomi.”

kiyoomi stared at you for a few more seconds, before he let his head bang against the table loudly.

as much as sakusa would love to lie and say, he did not switch your mind up with a simple conversation. it actually took him days and weeks and months and almost years of continuously restating and reassuring and convincing until you finally accepted his love, help and care.

however, sakusa didn’t mind.

because all the stress you caused by worrying him, the frustration as he repeatedly tried to get it through your head, the sadness he felt whenever you pushed him away, all of it was worth it,

all of it was worth it because it’s you.

all of it was worth it and the second you came home years later, finally married, stressed from work and simply walked over to lean on him, shutting your eyes as he embraced you as you quietly mumbled a simple ‘i need you.’ as you finally allowed yourself to let him take care of you, he was sure it was all really worth it.

and sakusa would do it all over again if he had to, if it meant you would lean at him, even if it was just a brief moment.

because the truth was, loving you was never about convenience to him. he didn’t need to be comfortable as he loved. he didn’t need to be undisturbed.

to him, loving you was a commitment, an unwavering devotion, a pledge to remain your safe space forever. he ached to be in your presence, and loathed your absence. to him, loving you was never about himself. it was never transactional.

sakusa would do anything for you. in fact, sakusa would do anything if it meant you would give him the same soft, gentle smile he had gotten used to waking up to every morning.

and if he had to spend a couple more years for you to believe him,

he would do it in every lifetime.

[ a/n: do u guys see the vision i had ]

⋆ ࣪. csm trio layouts !?!?

ic: @kamonegioisi on twt - credits on bio !!

like/reblog if you save/use

i find them everywhere in everything

💄

crawling back to you

pairing: sukuna x reader

genre: angst

inspired by the song do i wanna know? live at bbc by hozier

it’s been three months.

three months since the door slammed shut behind you, leaving nothing but silence in your wake. three months since you walked away, and sukuna didn’t chase after you—not that night, not the morning after, not the weeks that followed. he told himself it was for the best. that this was what you wanted.

but now, as he sits alone in his dimly lit apartment, the weight of your absence pressing down on him like a vice, he wonders if he made the biggest mistake of his life.

the buzzing of his tattoo machine is the only thing that keeps him sane most days. his clients come and go, faces he barely registers as he inks intricate designs onto their skin. it’s the only time his mind goes quiet—when his hands are busy, the hum of the machine drowning out the thoughts he doesn’t want to face.

but the second the machine powers down, reality creeps back in. and reality is cruel.

because no matter how hard he tries, you’re everywhere.

he sees you in the smallest things—things that shouldn’t remind him of you, but somehow always do. In the flicker of a neon sign outside the shop that hums the same soft glow as the fairy lights you used to hang in your room. in the faint scent of vanilla and jasmine that lingers when someone walks past him on the street, never quite matching the way it clung to your skin. in the half-empty coffee cup sitting on the counter, lipstick smudged at the rim, and he’s reminded of lazy mornings when you’d steal sips from his mug, laughing when he grumbled but never really minded.

you’re in the song that plays softly from the radio while he works—one he never paid attention to before but now knows every word to because it was always on your playlists. in the chipped black nail polish on his coworker’s hands, a fleeting reminder of the countless nights you sat cross-legged on his couch, painting your nails and teasing him for being too still as he let you paint his, too.

but worst of all, he sees you in his reflection—tired eyes that have lost their edge, the weight of regret carving its place in the lines of his face. in the faint traces of your touch that still linger like phantom sensations along the tattoos you used to trace absentmindedly with your fingers, as if memorizing every inch of him.

and when his coworkers scroll through their phones, laughter echoing through the shop, there you are again—captured in a fleeting Instagram story from some party last weekend. grainy, imperfect, but unmistakably you. smiling, carefree, eyes crinkling in that way that always made something in his chest tighten. and god, how he hates the way it guts him, wishing—aching—that he was still the reason for that smile.

you unfollowed him. he noticed immediately.

one day, your name was gone from his notifications, your profile nowhere to be found. he tried not to care. tried to convince himself that it was just social media. but it gnawed at him. you were cutting him out piece by piece, and all he could do was watch it happen.

he lurks in the shadows, hoping one of your friends posts something—anything—that gives him a glimpse of you. It’s pathetic, he knows, but it’s the only thing he has left.

there’s a bitter irony in it all. he was the one who pushed you away first. always keeping you at arm’s length, never letting you in too close. you wanted more—deserved more—but he couldn’t give it to you. not when vulnerability felt like a weakness he couldn’t afford.

and now? now, he craves your presence like a man starved.

the shop is quieter than usual tonight. it’s late, and everyone else has left. sukuna leans back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, the faint hum of traffic outside barely audible through the thick walls. the glow from his phone screen flickers beside him, but he doesn’t touch it.

not yet.

he’s been doing this every night. sitting here, contemplating. the urge to reach out is unbearable, but something always stops him. pride, maybe. or fear.

fear that you’ve moved on. that you don’t want to hear from him. that he’s too late.

his chest tightens at the thought.

he tried to fill the void, but nothing ever worked.

not the long hours at the tattoo shop, where he threw himself into his work until his fingers ached and his mind blurred. not the mindless scrolling through social media, hoping—not that he’d ever admit it—that he might catch a glimpse of you. not the empty nights spent lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for exhaustion to drag him under.

nothing could distract him from the ache of missing you.

his friends tell him it’s time to move on. they say three months is long enough to let someone go. that there are plenty of people out there. but what do they know? they didn’t spend endless nights memorizing the shape of your smile, or the way your eyes softened when you looked at him, like he was the only person in the world. they didn’t hear the quiet affection in your voice when you whispered his name in the dead of night, your fingers tracing lazy patterns over the tattoos on his chest like you were trying to commit every line to memory.

his friends didn’t feel the weight of your absence like he did—the way it settled deep in his bones, heavy and inescapable. they didn’t know how every morning, he still reached for you instinctively, only to be met with the cold, empty space beside him. how even now, he still slept on his side of the bed, as if leaving room for you just in case.

how could he fall for someone new when he was still so busy being yours?

they didn’t see how badly he broke you when he shut you out.

the memory of your last fight is still fresh, even after all this time. you stood in the doorway, tears brimming in your eyes, asking him—begging him—to just let you in. to tell you what he wanted. and all he gave you was silence.

he thought you’d stay. you always had before. but that night, you walked away. and now, the silence is all he has left.

his fingers twitch toward his phone, but he stops himself. what’s the point? you deserve better than a half-assed apology three months too late.

but then he thinks about the what-ifs. what if you’re waiting for him to reach out? what if you’re lying in bed right now, staring at your phone, wondering why he never called?

he can’t take it anymore.

the weight of missing you presses down on his chest, suffocating and relentless, until it pushes him off his chair and out the door before he can even think twice. it’s reckless, stupid—but so is love, isn’t it?

the streets are quiet at this hour, the hum of the city softened under the cloak of night. his hands are shoved deep into his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold, but none of it matters. all he can focus on is you. the thought of you, maybe asleep, maybe curled up in bed with your phone just out of reach. maybe dreaming of something—someone—that isn’t him.

the thought twists like a knife in his gut.

he walks with purpose, even though every step is a silent war between hope and dread. what if you don’t open the door? what if you tell him to leave? what if someone else is there?

he shakes the thought away.

it’s been three months, but it feels like no time has passed at all. and yet, it feels like forever.

before he knows it, he’s standing outside your apartment building, staring up at your window. the soft glow of light seeps through the curtains, and he wonders if you’re still awake or if you’ve just fallen asleep with the lamp on, the way you used to when reading late into the night.

his heart pounds so loudly he’s sure it’ll wake the whole block, but still, he climbs the stairs. each step echoes in the silence, a quiet reminder that there’s still time to turn back. but he doesn’t. he can’t.

and suddenly, he’s there. in front of your door. it’s familiar and foreign all at once.

he doesn’t have a plan. he doesn’t even know what he’s going to say. all he knows is that the thought of another night without you is unbearable.

he raises his hand to knock but hesitates. his breath is shallow, his pulse erratic.

but then, before he can stop himself, his knuckles rap gently against the door.

seconds pass. each one heavier than the last.

then, the faint sound of footsteps. the quiet click of the lock.

the door opens, and there you are.

soft, bleary-eyed, wrapped in a blanket, and so heartbreakingly familiar that it steals the breath from his lungs.

“sukuna?” your voice is quiet, confused, and laced with something that might be disbelief.

he swallows hard, the weight of the past three months pressing down on him all at once. “i know it’s late,” he says, voice rough and barely above a whisper. “i know i shouldn’t be here. but… i couldn’t stay away.”

you blink at him, and for a moment, there’s only silence. then, softly, “why now?”

his throat tightens, and he runs a hand down his face, exhaling shakily. “because i’m tired,” he says, voice cracking under the weight of everything he’s held back. “tired of trying to forget you. tired of pretending i’m okay. i’ve tried. god, i’ve tried. but i can’t. i miss you.”

his voice cracks at the end, and he hates how raw he sounds. how vulnerable. but it’s the truth. And right now, that’s all he has left to offer.

he sees the flicker of emotion in your eyes—the conflict, the hurt, the love you’ve tried to bury—and it guts him.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, voice thick with regret. “i’m sorry for not being enough. for not being what you deserved. i know I fucked up. i know i wasn’t always what you needed me to be.”

his hands tremble as he clenches them into fists at his sides. “but i swear… i’ll do better. i will. i promise you.”

his voice is raw now, barely more than a whisper. “just… tell me it’s not too late.”

you stare at him, eyes glossy, breath caught somewhere between disbelief and something softer. and then, finally, you step back just enough to let him in.

and for the first time in three months, sukuna breathes.

despite his flippant and egotistical character he gets mocked for, Satoru spent his whole life trying to make his world a better place — so his students could enjoy their youth. and with his god complex, he wanted to change society so they won’t have to rely on the “strongest” anymore. he sacrificed himself just to keep everyone safe even stretching himself to the bare bone/exhaustion for it. despite probably not being happy about it, feeling the burden of being a protector to the end, he even allowed his body to be used like that…

I guess, I can see why Satoru felt so alone all this time, and why he deliberately closed himself off by putting a nonchalant, frivolous mask to hide his misfortune of being the strongest — maybe he thought that’ll hurt him less 🥲. especially when no one stood up for him when being blamed for not killing a child’s life… and unironically his rival is the one that praises him in the end.

but you know what? idc he’ll be back next two chapters !!

2:21 was way too specific (chapter he came back from the prison realm) and the small hand looks to be surpassing 28 into …— his new canon age ◡̈