"I'm Already Gone, So Why Not Save Yourself?"

My favorite delulu take is Sukuna having a wife

That’s my oc btw

Christmas toji

宮 侑 🏐🦊

jjk fall edition 🍁

this is love ft. kento nanami

a/n: a few sappy slices of life with my main man :3 enjoy as i dig up motivation to finish kinktober. 18+ mdni!

"honey?" kento's voice is muffled through the door as he calls out to you, "everything okay?" the door rattles as he tries to open it, knob jingling.

"uhm, yeah! everything's fine!" you nervously shout, much too loud, and rush to unplug the iron that had melted your husband's favorite shirt. you panic and yelp when the hot iron scorches the side on your hand, throwing the stupid device to the ground in a clatter.

"why is the door locked—are you okay?" he asks, voice becoming more concerned as he hears the movement inside.

"i'm—i'm fine! promise! just give me a minute!" you're rushing into your shared master bathroom to run cold water over your hand, and kento’s using a screwdriver pulled from thin air to break into your bedroom. tears well in your eyes when you catch the sight of kento seeing his favorite shirt burnt and melted to his own ironing board. "i’m so sorry…"

in reality, he doesn’t care about the shirt—he’s already at your side to inspect your burnt hand. after a few seconds, he speaks.

"did you try to iron my shirt for me?" nanami asks, a small smile on his face, "you didn’t have to do that." he turns off the faucet and takes a small towel to dry your hand off.

"i tried to, i’m sorry—i didn’t know it would do that." you apologize, looking down at the cold tile flooring in defeat.

"oh, honey." he coos, "it’s only a shirt."

"have you seen your father?" you ask your son, yū, who’s sat at the dining table, eating breakfast. he shakes his head no, and when you look at your daughter, mayu, she does the same.

"jeez," you grumble to yourself, bedroom slippers pattering down the hallway as you go to search for your husband. saturday mornings were his time to sleep in, but realistically, he never slept past 9am. and currently, it was nearing 10am.

you check everywhere. he isn’t found in the bedroom, living room, his office, the garage, the patio or in the little garden he kept. upstairs, downstairs, everywhere, he isn’t there. and when you check in your bedroom for the last time, you hear a soft buzzing coming from the bathroom. upon entering, you see your husband bent over the counter, leaning close in the mirror as he shaves his stubble with an electric razor.

"there you are—when did you get that?"

kento had always been a clean shaven kind of man, going to a barber shop once every two weeks for his straight razor shave. it hadn’t even crossed your mind he didn’t go after work yesterday.

but when he looks at you—you burst out laughing. he’d shaven most of his beard off, but a few fuzzy patches remained on his cheeks, along with a mustache grazing his upper lip. peach fuzz and a few knicks litter his chin. this was the first time you’d seen him unable to do anything perfectly. and he looks ridiculous.

"is it really that bad?" he groans, pouting when you wrap your arms around yourself in a giggling fit. you shake your head, although your unforgiving laughs are a testament to the opposite.

"no—no, let me help," you say after calming down.

after gathering a new razor and some shaving cream, you sit atop the counter and your husband stands between your legs. kento is surprised how flawlessly you shave his face, without creating any more marks or cuts. you giggle and kiss him, getting some shaving cream on your face.

"ken?" you shout from the kitchen, where you’re sat, working on your dissertation. it’s been a long road of blood, sweat, and many, many tears; but you’re finally getting towards the end. about to earn a doctorate.

"yes, darling?" kento replies, walking into the kitchen on queue, his timing impeccable.

"can you read over this paragraph, please?" you kindly ask of him, pointing to your most recent written paragraph. he leans over you, planting one firm palm on the table, the other on your back; his eyes read along the sentences and his fingers tap along your spine.

"ah," his finger becomes more focused on a certain word, "wrong 'there', honey."

"no it's not..." you instantly retort, squinting your tired eyes to read over your writing. and you're right, it was the correct one the first time. this was his version of teasing you. but kento couldn't keep up the face much longer before he's giving in with a shit-eating grin you didn't see that often. "you're funny." you groan as kento stands back up.

after reading over the paragraph for about the nineteenth time, you notice kento silently slipping you some tea before turning back around to keep himself busy with cleaning. you absentmindedly take a few sips, then some more...and you find yourself becoming more and more sleepy...

and you're out like a light, forehead pressed directly against the table as a puddle of drool forms on the papers below. kento already has a warm blanket straight from the dryer to drape over you, and you stir just enough to get comfy on your arms.

kento knows that his back will hurt in the morning, but he sits around the corner of the table next to you, settling his head into his arms to drift off to sleep alongside you.

music of your taste plays rather quietly in the kitchen. you stir the pot of soup and inhale the flavorful aroma that wafts through the air.

kento sets two bowls next to the stove, then rummages through your silverware drawer to find two spoons. the kids are at their grandparents for the weekend, it's only you and your husband, converted into the duo you were long ago.

you step away from the stove to go fill up two glasses of wine, the brand kento had as his favorite had slowly turned into your favorite over time, too.

kento fills up the two bowls to the brim of the delicious food, grinning on the inside at the simplicity of it all. just you and him. he lids the pot with the matching glass top and makes his way over to the table.

you set out place mats for the both of you, then place the wine glasses in their prospective areas. kento places the bowls on top of the mats as you grab the spoons from the counter.

in the kitchen, your bodies subconsciously dance around each other. carefully, in perfect tune and pace. delicate steps of a routine formed over so much time together.

in the universe, your souls are tied, striding alongside one another in each lifetime repeated.

and this, is love.

gojos to soften the blows from the jjk ending

atsumu miya is cocky about one thing, and it's volleyball.

it's the only thing he can be fully confident about ( not that he isn't absolutely over confident about everything else ) and the one thing he actually excelled at.

and then there is you.

you, who managed to break down every bit of his egotistical self with just one smile that had him doubting if he smells good or not.

atsumu miya was head over heels in love with you, and that’s the least he could say about his feelings towards you.

“what are you looking at?” you ask, noticing his gaze lingering on you.

“just admiring you,” he says cheekily — and it was true, he was always admiring you.

you snort, “okay, lover boy.” you tease and he rolls his eyes, wrapping his arm around you.

you had him head over heels in love with you and you probably didn’t even realize it.

“kiss me,” he says suddenly, “what?” you utter out.

“kiss me,” he says again — he had noticed the faint tint of red on your lips, probably lip balm, strawberry? maybe cherry, who know. he was about to find out though.

you stare at him for a moment, confused before shrugging your shoulders and cupping his face, bringing him closer for a kiss.

you peck his lips and atsumu catches on to the faint taste of strawberries before you’re pulling away.

“hey!” he exclaims, “unfair.”

“what?” you asl, feigning innocence, “you wanted a kiss, i gave you one.”

“that barely qualified for a kiss,” he huffs and before you could respond, he’s holding you by the back of your neck and pulling you in for a proper kiss.

and yep, it was definitely strawberry flavored lip gloss you were wearing.

god, he’s so head over heels in love with you.

⌕ haikyū - miya atsumu.

like or reblog if you save/use.

that's why Gojo made Yuji's uniform like that

when furudate wrote “today you happen to be the defeated. but what will you become tomorrow?” and then “nothing would ever get started if they didn't first think, 'let’s give it a try.'” and then “he who climbs the ladder must begin at the bottom” and then “we’re not limited to just one way of being great” and then “being weak means that there is room to grow” and then “does losing prove that you are weak? isn’t losing difficult for all of you? a challenge where, after ending up on your hands and knees, you must see if you can stand up again? if you stay on your hands and knees, that proves that you are weak.”