miyabr0

Latest Posts by miyabr0

When tumblr refreshes itself and the fic I was reading fucking disappears forever 💔

I’ve been searching for a smau I was reading for three days 😔

dogs out. zenin toji

fluff ‐ parents au. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ slice of life, mom!reader, unnamed 2yo daughter, megumi is four, and tsumiki is six. preschool teacher!nanami cameo ♡

little sunshines au

"moooooom! the baby took her shoes off again!"

tsumiki's voice has you peeking your head from the kitchen, trying to catch sight of your little girl. you're about to call your husband's name when he walks into the living room and picks your daughter up from the floor.

"dont like 'em?" he smirks, holding her tiny foot up and inspecting it.

she grins cheekily at her dad, proudly wiggling her little toes and showing off the sparkly nail polish on them.

"spaw-cle!"

finally done with the dishes, you join them and see her crocs discarded by the couch.

"again?"

"let her be, ma." toji has her foot against her cheek, both of them giggling at the silliness of it.

"she has to get used to them, toji."

he finally meets your eyes and sees the stern look in them. slowly, he puts your daughter down while she looks at him in confusion. toji doesn't have the heart to force his youngest to do stuff she doesn't like. but after three kids and years of marriage with you, he knows this is a battle he won't win.

"sorry, kiddo."

—

two days later, he's standing by the gates of the kids' school, waiting for them, when he notices something odd.

his face quickly switches from boredom to concern once he spots nanami holding his baby girl in his arms, her face visibly blotched from crying.

"she wouldn't stop taking her shoes off during class. I'm afraid we had to take... drastic measures." the blond man hands her over, visibly tense at toji's reaction. tsumiki and megumi stand next to him with matching frowns, having seen (and heard) their baby sister's cries. "school's policy."

"daddy!" she's bursting into tears as soon as she's in his arms, her watery eyes set on his concerned ones. "want 'em off!"

toji looks down at her feet and sees the brown tape around her pink sneakers, clashing horribly against it and causing him to sigh in defeat.

"baby, you can't keep taking your shoes off." he's patting her back in comfort, letting her sob against his shoulder while he turns to nanami again. "any advice? my wife and I have been struggling for weeks."

having seen this before, nanami recalls a piece of advice given from a couple who struggled with this, too. "try to find a pair that she likes. they don't have to be sneakers—the school isn't strict with that."

and suddenly, toji has a brilliant idea.

—

"princess, c'mere."

both you and your husband enter your daughter's room, sitting on the floor, and she comes closer with her plushie hanging from her hand.

toji places a box in front of her, your demeanor slightly anxious as you wait for her reaction. for a two-year-old, you're aware that she can be the toughest crowd sometimes.

her eyes are fixed in front of her, watching her dad opening the boring, brown box until pink and glitter are all her brain can process.

"woah..." she's clearly in awe, her little hands quickly grabbing the tiny pink heels and slipping them on her feet. "mommy shoes!"

the heels clack loudly against the floor, her steps uncoordinated and clumsy, but she can't stop giggling happily, walking back and forth.

"what did i tell you, ma?" toji's grin is smug, his arms wrapping around you while you play it off with a roll of your eyes. the sigh of relief is obvious from you two. "problem fixed."

he hasn't even finished gloating when you spot megumi standing by the door with his hands covering his ears, glaring ominously at toji.

"don't be so sure, honey."

すきっちゅおぺれーちょん！

♡ ⸝⸝ IT’S A BEAUTIFUL DAY TO SAVE LIVES

featuring. neurosurgeon!gojo | smut mdni, repost :p

neurosurgeon!gojo who you unknowingly meet in a bar on the night before your first day at your new job as a surgical intern. you didn’t really intend to get as drunk as you did, and you didn’t intend to kiss the really cute guy at the bar who had your attention all night. but, you more than definitely didn’t intend to bring him back to your apartment

“oh- fuck.”, you mewl as he continues pounding into your overstimulated pussy, his hand wrapped gently around your neck with the other roughly grabbing onto the plush of your hips. his brows were furrowed as he chases both of your highs with his own faint whimpers, his movements just so perfectly hitting your g-spot as you wrap your legs around his waist and throwing your head back because of the pure euphoria this man you had just met was giving you

neurosurgeon!gojo who wakes up in your bed the next morning, feeling so confused after you just shook his peacefully sleeping figure awake, ranting on at him

“so yeah, you need to leave.”, was the only thing he managed to clock onto after you had been rambling on about something. being late for your first day of work was it? all while he was still figuring out where he was for a second. he thinks you’re cute, though, trying to rush him out of your apartment. can’t say he’s ever had that happen to him before

neurosurgeon!gojo who does eventually leave after you got into the shower with you thinking that was it and you’d never see this ridiculously attractive stranger again

neurosurgeon!gojo who is described as a genius on your first day at work as a surgical intern, as one of the best surgeons in the country. some even would go as far to say the world. you were just so excited to meet and potentially work with him! especially with your interest to specialise in neurosurgery

neurosurgeon!gojo who makes some time in his busy schedule to talk to all the new surgical interns as head of neurosurgery and give some insight and advice to his new colleagues

neurosurgeon!gojo who sees you as he’s talking, his breath caught in his throat and stumbling on his words which go unnoticed by absolutely no one. you sharply inhale, knowing you had just slept with the head of neurosurgery just twelve hours ago - god, was this gonna cause a conflict of interest?

“oh my god, do you know the dr. gojo?”, one of your fellow interns ask as you feel your face heat up in embarrassment, shaking your head and pretending like you’ve never seen this man, when the night before he was eight inches deep inside you

neurosurgeon!gojo who after the talk with the interns, pulls you to the side with a cheeky grin on his face as he mentions the night before while you stand there awkwardly with your hands clasped together

neurosurgeon!gojo who then shamelessly asks you out to dinner, only to be met with your furrowed brows and stern voice telling him that it was inappropriate. he was basically your boss, who was several years older than you at that. not to mention that you’d both get fired if anyone was to find out

neurosurgeon!gojo who takes your rejection as a game, continuing to flirt with you shamelessly any chance he got despite the eye rolls and heavy sighs you met him with

neurosurgeon!gojo who chases you for the next month, even letting you assist in his surgeries after finding out how interested in neurosurgery you were. you wondered if he was simply playing favourites

“did you let me assist because we slept together?”, you ask bluntly, just ripping the bandaid off. “hm? yes i did.”, he admits with a shrug. “do you not realise how inappropriate that is?”, you scoff. “well, that’s what you wanted me to say, wasn’t it? that i chose you because you’re my favourite.” there’s a pause, “i chose you because i thought you were the most capable. believe it or not, i know how to do my job.”

neurosurgeon!gojo who you soon realise isn’t as bad as you originally thought as you continue working with him, his cocky demeanour slipping every so often where you see a genuinely selfless and kind hearted man who just simply wants to save lives

neurosurgeon!gojo who asks you out for a drink, one drink, he says, simply to celebrate a successful surgery on a case that had a 20% chance of survival after your assist with him

neurosurgeon!gojo who is so delightfully surprised when you say yes, his constant days of chasing you finally moving in the direction he wanted, even if it was minimal

neurosurgeon!gojo who ends up buying you both multiple drinks, just as you knew would happen. the both of you were so giggly as you stumble out the bar together, your hand resting on his chest whilst his arm was wrapped around your shoulder

neurosurgeon!gojo who decides to take his chances, the liquid courage definitely hitting his head a little too hard, and pulls you in slowly as he places a small and sweet kiss on your lips, completely taking you by surprise

neurosurgeon!gojo who apologises profusely once he sees your shocked reaction, thinking he’s just fucked up the good night you both were having together

neurosurgeon!gojo who is shut up by you, pulling his shirt so he’s down to your level and roughly kissing him again, the previous worries you had before completely gone and the only thing on your mind was him, and just maybe that mind blowing sex he gave you the first night you met

“take me home?”, you ask as gojo catches on to the real meaning behind your words, smiling to himself as he nods with butterflies in his stomach. maybe his hard work flirting with you had finally paid off

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

where needles and lovers collide , 001

, mentions of arson , post + messages , swearing , not proofread suck my butt :p

note , first part written in my car as i cry before my shift. sukuna and reader have a silly and strange relationship but like same. missing alt!sukuna so bad rn. if you think for a second that he isn't alternative and piercingless in any of my works , you are sadly mistaken. enjoy , like and reblog if you're nastyyyyy

series masterlist ❤︎ main masterlist

"Stop. Moving," Toji groans, sleepily, as he tightens his arms around you and buries his face into your back. This is the third time you try to wake him up by shifting on the bed and he is not having it.

"It's time to wake up, Toji. If you don't want to get up, you can stay here while I go make us breakfast."

Toji hums in disapproval. "What's the point in staying behind if you're not gonna be here? Let's just..." he sighs, nuzzling his face into your back, getting comfy, again. "...stay in bed a little longer. Let me keep you like this for a few more hours- minutes. I said minutes."

"Baby," you say, through a laugh. "It's almost ten. I know that if you could, you would stay in bed all day-"

"We would stay in bed all day," he corrects, his voice a low grumble.

"We would stay in bed all day," you repeat. "But... I want breakfast, and I know you'll want breakfast, too, once you smell all the food. I know how much you love your bacon," you add, trying to persuade him.

"Brunch sounds better," he mutters, stomping on your argument.

"No, breakfast sounds better," you argue, to which he groans, dramatically—almost childishly. "Oh my god, Toji," you say, in utter disbelief of the way he's acting.

"Shh... let's sleep," he murmurs.

You sigh, defeated. "Five minutes. That's all you get. Five more minutes." Toji doesn't even respond, too busy dozing off to make the most of these measly fives minutes, you "generously" offered. And, yes, you were generous, because five minutes became ten minutes, and then fifteen, until you reached the limit you had set—twenty minutes.

After the twenty minutes, you start moving around a little. You flip onto your back to get a look at the sleeping hulk that's been clinging to you. He just adjusts to the new position, not bothered in the slightest as he rests his head on your shoulder.

"Toji," you call, softly, waiting a few seconds to see if he reacts. When his steady breathing is still all you hear, you decide to try again. "Bear," you call, dragging your fingertip along the slope of his nose. "Wake up," you murmur when his brows pull together. "Hi, baby," you coo, smiling when he just blinks his sleep-ridden eyes.

"That didn't feel like five minutes," he mumbles, his voice raspy.

"It was twenty," you respond, a soft laugh following. You press a kiss to the top of his head and watch the way he subtly eases up a little more. The crease between his brows is gone, now. "Let's go have breakfast, alright? Some coffee will do you good."

"Fine," he grumbles, before rising slowly from where he lays on you, like he weighs tons.

You turn over to see the subtle jut of his lips, a small detail that never fails to make you laugh when he doesn't get what he wants.

"What's that thing you always say to me? 'If you keep pouting, I'm gonna kiss you'," you say, mimicking his voice.

"I'm gonna kiss you," he mutters under his breath, like the grumpiest bear.

"Ooo, I'm sooo scared," you say, your voice doused with sarcasm. "Please, don't do it. I definitely don't want you to kiss me," you jest, smiling to yourself as you walk towards the door. Your hand doesn't even reach the doorknob, before you're caged against the wooden slab. Two enormous hands rest on the door, preventing you from getting it open. He's discovered a loophole that gets you to be the one who wants to kiss him.

"Pay the Toji Tax," he murmurs, tiredly.

"Now, why would I do that? I haven't asked you for help with anything," you argue.

"You need my help getting the door open," he says, matter-of-factly.

"I don't need your help getting the door open. You just need to move out of the way so that I can open it."

"So, ask me to move. Simple, no?"

"Can you pretty please, with a cherry on top move so that I can open the door and make us breakfast?" You plead, your voice monotonous.

"Sure, for three kisses," he says, naming his price.

"It's unfair to Toji Tax me when you're the one keeping both of us from getting out."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, but you either pay the price or you rot in here with me until your precious little breakfast time turns into brunch, or even lunch time. Hell, dinner time might even roll around."

You turn around, slowly, your expression contemplative. A hum, just as mindful, reaches Toji's ears.

"You'd starve both of us for three kisses?" You question, your expression unchanging from its depiction of disbelief.

"Shamelessly and repeatedly. You wanna make it seem like kissing me is a job, I can play along and treat it that way. You can't go until you finish your task, and if you do it wrong, you get to do it again."

"Tojiii," you whine.

"Babyyy," he mocks, smirking at your rising impatience.

"Fine," you agree, bending to his will. You reach out to cup his face, but Toji takes a step back before you can touch him.

"What did I just say about getting it wrong? You really don't wanna kiss me, do you?"

"I do," you argue.

"Well, it doesn't feel like it. Seems like you just wanna get it over with so that i'll let you open the door."

"I'm sorry. I do wanna kiss you."

"How bad?" He pokes, loving the way you tilt your head, your expression unamused. "Plead your case, ma. How bad do you wanna kiss me?"

"So bad," you utter.

"Don't believe it," he responds, not moved enough by your words.

"Toji, I wanna kiss you so bad," you repeat.

"No, you don't," he denies. "I'm not feeling how much you wanna kiss me."

"Baby," you start, your voice exaggeratedly sentimental, your gaze filled with a saccharine amount of love. "I wanna kiss you so damn bad. It's not even funny."

"The way you're making it up is funny, though," he fires back. He's having a ball with this, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from cracking. Then, he sees you powering up, getting ready to go full siren. "You got it," he says, encouraging your theatrics.

With a deep inhale, the show commences.

"Pleaseeee! Oh god, please, please, the prettiest of pleases," you cry out. "If you love me—shit—if you value puppy lives... Oh my goodness, I can't even get it out. It's... it's too much. My desire-" you break out of your own drama scene to release a cackle at your word choice. "My... desire to kiss you..." you press your lips together, finding it difficult to hold it together when you see how entertained Toji looks. You use it to your advantage, adding a little head shake and dragging yourself down on the door, appearing to have crumbled to the ground. "I can't contain it. I just... I can't. Please," you whisper, weakly, looking up at Toji, pathetically, from where you sit on the floor.

Toji is very familiar with your dramatic fits, but this one takes the cake. You stunned him for a solid ten seconds. He peers down at you, his hands still planted on the door.

"And you called me dramatic earlier. Did you hear yourself just now? All that for some kisses?"

"Not just any kisses. Your kisses," you respond, with a satisfied smile and a nod.

"Get up," he commands, offering you his hands for assistance in standing up. You take them and push yourself up and off the ground, smiling softly when your hands remain in Toji's. He loves when you look at him like that—with your eyes all shiny and that smile on your lips that expresses the joy you find in these ridiculous moments with him. In one fell swoop, you pull his arms around you and reciprocate the gesture, giving him a big squeeze. Obviously, to him, it's anything but a big squeeze, but it brings a smile to his face anyway.

"Please, let me make you breakfast," you plead.

"You still have to kiss me," he insists.

You smile as you take half a step back to be able to see him. Stubborn as ever, he still really wants his kisses.

"Come here, baby," you call, your voice so sweet that it's almost a coo. You outstretch your hands in preparation for cupping his cheeks.

"Mmm... I like that," he murmurs, lips pulled into a smirk as he tightens his arms around you a little more and starts leaning in. "Three kisses, pretty, but you know I won't complain if you want to give me more."

"We'll see," you tease, smiling as your lips connect for the first kiss. Your hands gently mold into the softness of his cheeks, your fingertips grazing his jaw. It's soft, sweet, a little impatient on both ends, but controlled for the most part. Like you're kissing without a limit, that second kiss is easily melted into and attained, leading you to the third and supposed final one.

Once that one concludes, you decide to be nice and reward him with a bonus kiss. This one lasts longer, and you hum into it, like kissing him is your favorite thing to do in the world. Your thumbs stroke his cheeks a couple times, before you release him with a loud "mmmwah!" and step back, releasing an irrepressible giggle.

"Give me another one, just like that," he requests, taking that step towards you, again. "Come on," he pleads, grabbing your hands and pulling them up to place them on his face. "One more, doll?" His hands lower to your waist, and when you smile and roll your eyes, he knows he's won.

"Alright, only one more, bear," you comply, standing on your tippy toes to meet his lips one. last. time.

Once your lips brush against his, you hold them there for a few seconds. No movement, nothing crazy, just warm softness. You can feel yourself wanting to laugh, but you hold it together for a few a couple more seconds. After you do the same "mmmwah!" sound, you finally let your soft laugh out.

Toji smirks, his gaze darting between your eyes and the lips he just kissed, as he unwinds his arms from your waist and steps back, giving you the space to open the door and let both of you out.

"Toji Tax paid. You can open the door now," he says, grinning contentedly at the way you press your lips together in amusement, before turning around and pulling the door open.

Breakfast would be yet another task and a half for you to complete. With Toji trailing back and forth after you in the small kitchen area, refusing to be anywhere you weren't, you're surprised nothing ended up burning.

i’ve been obsessed with Cannibalization of the Apex by @charmspoint for the past week and now mom says it’s your turn to cry your eyes out

The Heart Cracks Before it Shatters (Pt5.5) ⋆｡°✩ Bakugou Katsuki

Masterlist ୨ৎ pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5

a look into Katsuki's isolation

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒

Glitter 𐔌 𐦯 : Okay so i know i said only one chapter left but... i wanted to give a little perspective into Katsuki's thoughts.

Warnings : Angsty, Female!Reader, Reader is a wife, Reader has children, bakugou is very sad, agruments, swearing, sadness, aged up characters, childern, babies.

W/C : 1.2k

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊

Katsuki is angry at you, and he fucking hates that.

It doesn’t happen often. Rarely, even. And when it does, it’s always fleeting—like when you hurt yourself doing something stupid, or when you tear yourself apart over things that aren’t your fault. Dumb shit. Shit he usually shuts down with a kiss to the temple and a gruff “knock it off.”

But right now? He’s raging.

The night you kicked him out happened fast. One minute, he was standing in the doorway, shoes still on, and the next, he was packing a bag in silence. He’d figured out pretty quick that it was because he hadn’t been… enough. Not affectionate enough. Not there enough. That’s fair. He gets it.

But also?

This whole thing is a unique kind of fucked.

He thought he was giving you space. Time. That’s what it was supposed to be. Because every time he tried to touch you, to close that gap, you froze up. And Katsuki doesn’t do ignoring signals. He thought you needed air. So he gave it to you. He focused on fixing all the other bullshit first, hoping you’d trust him again. Hoping it would feel safe again.

Clearly, that was the wrong fucking move. Now he’s crashing in Kirishima’s spare room like some washed-up loser who doesn’t know how to keep his family together.

And he’s pissed. At himself. At the situation. At you, even if he doesn’t want to be.

Because it feels unfair. Of course he wants to touch you. Hell, he’s been dying to. But he thought being respectful meant holding back, and you didn’t say a damn thing about it until you were telling him to get out. So how was he supposed to know?

He’s not angry at you the way he gets at other people. He’s frustrated. It twists in his gut, hot and sick and tight. He hates seeing you cry. Hates hearing you put yourself down (Why Katsuki Is Angry, Point One). And he really hates when things aren’t communicated (yeah, he gets the irony). You caught him off guard. Blindsided him. And now you’re both hurting. You’re upset. He’s upset. And him being out of the house? It feels too damn close to a real separation.

And that’s the part that makes his blood boil.

Two weeks of this. Two weeks of anger simmering low in his chest, mixing with a hollow sadness he can’t shake. And you still haven’t asked him to come back.

That scares him more than he’ll ever admit.

So his mood’s worse than usual—which is saying something. He’s snapping at civilians on patrol, his friends, and even the kids. That’s the part he hates the most.

It wasn’t even anything big. His head’s just so fucked up that he can’t hold onto his temper. And he misses you so much it’s making him stupid.

Koharu had been crying for nearly an hour, inconsolable in his arms. He tried everything. Nothing worked. And then Riko, standing small in the corner, mumbled, “Mama usually tries…”

And he lost it.

“Is your mother here? No? Then why bother telling me that?”

The words came out sharper than he meant. Meaner.

And the regret hit immediately. Riko’s face crumpled, her eyes wide and hurt, and Koharu only cried harder in his arms.

“Shit. Bug, I’m sorry,” he muttered, bouncing Koharu a little harder, desperate now. “I just—fuck.”

“It’s fine,” Riko said quietly, but she wouldn’t look at him. She slipped away to the guest room Kirishima set up for them, shutting the door behind her.

And he wanted to follow her. To say something. But the second he even thought about it, Koharu let out another wail in his arms, her little fists clenching in his shirt. So he spent the rest of the evening pacing the floor, whispering whatever nonsense he could think of to soothe her. By the time she finally wore herself out, heavy and damp against his chest, it was late. Too late.

And then it was time for them to go home.

He hated seeing Riko climb into the car without saying much of anything, her face drawn tight and distant. He hated it even more knowing it was his fault. Another mistake that dug deep. Another fuck-up he wouldn’t be able to take back.

Before he let them go, before he buckled her in, he crouched down next to her. Pulled her close and kissed the side of her head, his voice rough and quiet against her hair. “Sorry about earlier,” he muttered. “I love you.”

She only nodded. Didn’t say anything. And it felt like a weight settling on his chest that he couldn’t shake.

One of those parenting mistakes, he thought bitterly, that you don’t get a do-over for.

The girls went home after that. And he went back to Kirishima’s apartment.

Empty. Quiet. Not his.

He still refused to look for a new place, and he wasn’t planning to anytime soon. Not unless you forced his hand. Not unless you tore the ring off his finger and told him there was nothing left to fight for.

Getting a new place would make it final. Permanent. And that was something he wasn’t ready to swallow.

So instead, he walked through the door, dropped his keys on the counter like he lived there, and went straight to the shower. Sat there under the water until his skin felt raw, staring at the wall like it might tell him what the hell he was supposed to do next.  

Kirishima wasn’t home yet, which was fine. Better. Katsuki wasn’t in the mood to talk anyway. But it stung.

It stung because he knew exactly where Kirishima was. Out with you.

He’d mentioned it casually earlier, real offhand, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Grabbing dinner with Y/N,” he’d said, before slipping his shoes on and bolting out the door before Katsuki could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean.

And that sucked.

Because maybe you were just dropping off his shit. Maybe you were handing him back the last pieces of his life and telling him not to contact you again. And if that was the case, well—at least Kirishima would soften the blow. Right? Right.

He let his head fall back against the tile with a quiet, humorless laugh. Yeah. That sucked too.

And for now, that was all he could do. Sit with it. Wait. Hope you’d still give him the chance to fix what he broke.

Because if there was still a way back to you, he’d take it.

No matter how much it hurt.

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊

oh he's hurting (one chapter left fr this time!!!)

🏷️ : @dragonscribble @coldnightshark @huntyhuntycunty @thychuvaluswife @boojaynaqueen @kalulakunundrum @purplegaussianprocess @harryzcherry @bubbleguppieshh @geekessi @itzjustj-1000 @nuo0n @hana-patata  @ilovemushroomss @notokinthehead @obsessedwiththesturniolos @djlance-rock @j1tterbugaboo @ch3rryjampi3 @gayheterosexual @hauntedstudentobservationus @onlyisaa @rika-chan-12 @eddie-bonzo @meikoo @barrythestrawberry041 @littlestinkybastardman @incognit7 @hhhhhhhikariiiiiiii @sachikomwahxx @d4rlinxs @eyesforbkg @akiii143 @eternallyshifting @sukuxna0 @cremthehive @uhsakusa @mentallystablesstuff @gabby-ha @kelz-69 @js-favnanadoongi @bakugouswh0r3 @kinichlover1298 @yikesdudesstuff @armeenix  @sirerzafolchart @juiceeypeach @sukistar10 @amiime @asteraslvrr @teeesthings @charlotterosea13 @g3n3v13v33 @kiberrymatcha @urmamastits

general taglist 🏷️ : @cristy-101 @cielito--lindo

Hopefully i got everyone! thank you for reading!

the monster's gone, he's on the run and your daddy's here...

(I get so emotional about dadjo plss I will go reread all fics)

snow days with katsuki<33

you loved surprising your husband. while he was not particularly one for surprises, he had to admit that yours were often endearing as hell. a homemade cake for his birthday—simple, not too sweet and full of love. exactly how he liked it.

you’d gift him little trinkets you’d found when he came home from patrol. you’d prep his coffee the night before so he could wake up and just start the machine. you were thoughtful, and he loved that about you.

after a few inches of snow, katsuki sat in his office, perusing some papers with his glasses on. he looked so sexy with his muscled arms and thick thighs. you peek your head through the door, rapping your knuckles against the oak wood.

“‘tsuki?”

“yeah?”

and he smiles at your giggles, his pouty face upturning as he looks at you with a squint, “what’re you laughing at, huh?”

“just, look out your window!”

katsuki looks confused for a moment, before he’s shaking his head with a grin. another one of your antics, of course, he prattles on as he swings the curtains open. and there it was: your surprise.

‘I LOVE YOU KATSUKI!’

there it was, written in the snow in big bulky letters. he could even see your footsteps that trailed along the side of the message, your cute feet making adorable imprints in the reflective ice.

katsuki feels a warm rush go straight to his heart. he didn’t get sappy, didn’t get overly-emotional. but you, with your little surprises, well, he couldn’t help but get the slightest bit choked up. you really loved him.

he bounds over to you and swings you up into his arms, hands slipping to cradle your bare stomach as he kisses you in a frenzy, “fuckin’ love you.”

“i love you too!”

but katsuki couldn’t just let this slide. no, he couldn’t! which was why, when you woke up that next morning, you find your husband curled up on the couch with his head nodding towards the door.

“go check the porch out,” he grumbles, flicking through his phone while trying to hide his smirk.

“oh? what have you got planned, hmm?”

and you’re opening the door, grin widening as you spot carefully carved letters written in the snow.

‘I LOVE YOU,’ with your name written right next to it.

your cheeks flush and you suddenly feel so shy as your man comes behind you and pulls you flush against his hips.

“oh, katsuki, you didn’t have to—“

“yeah, but i wanted to. ‘sides, ‘s about time i give you a surprise back, yeah?”

and he’s scooping you into your arms and carrying you past the threshold of the front door into the warmth of your home.

"you only find sukuna attractive because he's in yuji's bod-"

LIEEEEESSSS

HAVE YALL SEEN THIS MAN?????

HIS TRUE FORM IS ONE OF THE YUMMEST, HOTTEST THINGS I'VE SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE, FOUR ARMS, TWO MOUTHS, TWO COCKS, 7 FEET OF PURE MUSCLE, HIS LETHAL FACE CARD AND YOU COME HERE AND HAVE THE AUDACITY TO TELL ME I ONLY FIND HIM ATTRACTIVE BECAUSE HE'S IN YUJI'S BODY???

PUH-LEASE I'M A TOTAL FREAK FOR THIS MAN, PUT ME AND HIM IN A ROOM TOGETHER AND ONE OF US IS COMING OUT PREGNANT AND IT AINT GONNA BE MEE

HE'S NOT A HEAR ME OUT, HE'S A HOLD ME BACK!!!!!

boyfriend!toji who is absolutely obsessed with you (all day everyday) but especially when you’ve come home after a long day and you do your nightly shed. he loves watching you huff and puff about how itchy your bangles have been and he waits patiently for you to come to him and whine about your necklaces being tangled so you need help. he leaves little kisses on the most ticklish parts of your neck as he goes. then sometimes while your washing your face he’ll stand in the doorway of the bathroom and just stare at you. soapy suds running down to your elbows and your bare feet tap tap tapping on the floor. he insists on carrying you back to the bedroom and gets comfy so he can watch you at your vanity ready to apply your skincare. it’s a regular occurrence that you struggle with taking out your lenses and toji is here to save the day yet again. gentle hands cradle your face as he tries his best to take your lenses out with minimal pain, and then he takes it upon himself to squeeze your eye drops in for you. extra kisses on your eyelids incase he did hurt you. his most favourite bit is when you’re applying your lip balm and you lean over to give him a quick kiss.

‘this flavour better than yesterdays?’

truthfully he can’t remember.

and then you grab your glasses, which have always been too big for you and require you to scrunch up your nose adorably to fix them, and toji is ready to pick you up again. a new episode with his favourite girl in his lap is his idea of a night spent well.

a/n : they’re watching severance btw :)

cat dad kento 🐈

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔𝟕: 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

"Office worker dropout" is so fucking funny though

nanami's daughter went through an identity crisis at the age of four.

you were teaching her how to write her own name. she happily exclaimed that she can do it herself, after all papa taught her all the alphabets. she clumsily jot down her supposed name and showed it to you, looking very much proud

suethart nanami

you were confused but told her this was not her name. she looked up at you with confused big doe eyes, the color the same as your husband's

"but thats what papa calls me?"

you chuckled behind your hand and explained to her what her actual name was and how it wasnt sweetheart. she looked so devastated that you almost wanted to rename her.

"no, its sweetheart!"

later that evening, before nanami could even announce he was home and put out his shoes, his daughter went to him running

"papa! whats my name??" she asked very firmly, with arms crossed and brows furrowed

he raised his eyebrow at you to see if it was another tiktok prank where he was supposed to call her 'my princess' (hed gladly do that). you just shrugged your shoulders at him, looking very much done. he fondly huffed, things are always so chaotic with you two, but he wouldnt have it any other way. he smiled softly and patted his baby's fluffy haired head

"sweetheart, at least let me put out my shoes first-"

she cheered happily and threw herself in nanamis arms. out of instinct, he held her, with all the gentleness in the world.

"see mama?? i told you my name was sweetheart!!" she then proceeded to give you a 'i told you so' look

nanami, still very much confused and not out of his shoes looked at you, asking for help. you just sighed heavily

later during dinner time, you and nanami both taught your baby about real names and pet names. she got so pouty after she learnt that her name was neither sweetheart nor baby nor honey, it was taking nanami a lot of will to not just her rename her sweetheart and bring back her sunny smile. but you reassured her that to you guys she will forever be 'sweetheart'. she lit up at your words and proceeded to happily munch her food

nanami blinked. well that was easy.

tho she had another breakdown when she found out that your name wasnt actually 'my love'.

where needles and lovers collide , a sukuna ryomen smau

, after losing your tattoo studio to a fire , you're welcomed back home into no other than your ex boyfriend's home. with no awkward or uncomfortable tension between the two of you , you expected the stay to be easy , a wonderful start to get back on your feet. however , you didn't expect to walk into another woman in his hou- wait...is that your ex best friend???

content , piercer!sukuna x tattoo artist!fem!reader , social media au , no curse au , modern au , swearing , angst , comfort , mentions of abuse , mentions of mental illness , complicated relationships , mentions of sex , this will be short , but not too short. more to be added.

001 , messages

002,

au , hello....guys i know i already said id start the other one but i am a liar and i always have been. my focus will be on this from now on. not seeing more than 15 parts. don't ask me for updates , i work a full time job in healthcare and most days i do not feel alive so i will post when i am capable of even opening my eyes. if you hate smaus , feel free to ignore this or block me bc i dont care and will keep posting them as long as this account has my name and my email keeping it active. i love you guys so much and i hope you enjoy this!! like and reblog if you're nasty...

where needles and lovers collide , 001

, mentions of arson , post + messages , swearing , not proofread suck my butt :p

note , first part written in my car as i cry before my shift. sukuna and reader have a silly and strange relationship but like same. missing alt!sukuna so bad rn. if you think for a second that he isn't alternative and piercingless in any of my works , you are sadly mistaken. enjoy , like and reblog if you're nastyyyyy

series masterlist ❤︎ main masterlist

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.

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.

the afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting golden hues over the quiet streets as you strolled alongside nanami. the crisp air carried the distant hum of city life, but here, in this peaceful little corner, it was just the two of you.

then, a soft meow caught your attention.

your eyes darted around until you spotted a small tabby cat perched precariously on a high ledge of a brick wall. its tail twitched, ears flicking in distress.

“poor thing,” you murmured. before nanami could stop you, you were already climbing onto a lower ledge, reaching up to help the stranded feline.

“this is a bad idea,” nanami warned, but there was no real bite to his tone—just quiet concern as he stood below, watching your progress.

“i’ve got this,” you assured him, and after a bit of careful maneuvering, you managed to scoop up the trembling cat. “see? easy—”

then you looked down.

oh.

oh no.

you hadn’t realized how high you’d climbed until now, and suddenly, your legs felt weak. the brick wall, which had seemed so sturdy just moments ago, felt impossibly narrow beneath your feet.

“nanami,” you called, voice tight. “i think i made a mistake.”

he sighed, already holding out his arms. “of course you did. now jump.”

your grip on the cat tightened. “what if you don’t catch me?”

he looked at you, utterly unamused. “do you really think i’d let that happen?”

his steady, golden gaze rooted you in place, a silent promise laced in the calmness of his voice.

you hesitated. then—

your foot slipped.

for a split second, panic seized your chest as gravity yanked you down, but before you could even brace for impact, strong arms caught you with ease.

the force of the fall knocked the air from your lungs, but you were safe, cradled securely against nanami’s chest. the cat scrambled out of your arms and landed gracefully on the pavement, as if mocking your clumsiness.

nanami sighed again, but this time, it was more exasperation than real annoyance. “you’re reckless,” he muttered, but his arms remained firmly around you, holding you close.

you peered up at him sheepishly. “but you caught me.”

he huffed, eyes softening. “of course i did.”

curse spirit geto

❦ WHAT’S MY NAME IN YOUR PHONE?

atsumu, osamu, suna, kita x reader (separate)

cw: fluff, smau

dad at rest 🙂‍↕️

ac:narutoss.ramen

I'm fixing it before Gege decides to 👍🏼

....

Please do not repost!

Thanks!!

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♡ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ୨୧ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ୨ৎ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ฅ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ೀ

☆ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⑅ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ♩ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ◌ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ꕤ

𓋜 ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ๑ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ៸៸៸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ‹𝟹 ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ʚ

ꔫ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 𐂯 ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ◝ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ᵎᵎ

꒰ ꒱ྀི ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ꒰ ꒱ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ૮ ა ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ฅ ฅ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ก ก

‌ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⊃ ⊂ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ՞ ՞ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ‎ﻌ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ﹏

lowkeyartist!sukuna who makes videos in his room to post on his instagram. Most of it is just him making new tunes that would most definitely be sampled by an artist sooner or later, while some are covers.

But I think what people mostly know him for is the different lady - or ladies - they see in the background sleeping in his bed. His name on twitter grows hectic whenever they see the girls in the back in some of his videos, slamming and dragging his name. Regardless, he stays radio silent on it.

It’s not until a song that had used one of his vids for a sample went popular and he begrudgingly goes live on instagram for his first Q&A due to popular demand. The questions flood in when his fans realise it’s not bullshit and he actually is there to talk with them.

And, like true Sukuna signature, there’s a mystery lady in his sheets behind him. The live notices immediately when he shifts a little to the edge giving them a glimpse of you, almost like he wants them to see.

“Does it wobble? Don’t make me end this live,” he says sternly, trying to subtly read questions that aren’t about you behind him in the chat. He finds it funny how the whole internet has been in an uproar this past year due to your constant impulse on making your hair look different every other month - different girls, like he’d ever, the thought makes him scoff.

“Why do you bring over so many girls? what do you mean? It’s just one,” he teases, his head turning over his shoulder to peek at you - yep, still sleeping.

His taunts to the questions have everyone on edge, and you’re just peacefully in dreamland. His scowl deepens when he sees many people question his honesty on the last answer, so he finally breaks and he reveals the long awaited truth.

“It’s just one girl because it’s my fiancé, we’ve been together since I started this shit,” he leans back in his chair, relief flowing through his veins now that everyone knows, “why does she look different all the time? My girl’s just impulsive.”

alternative!sukuna brainrot

i think about alternative!sukuna a lot to the point where it's almost how i envision him in modern day!

alternative!sukuna who buzzes his hair every month before it has a chance to grow long enough to get caught in the wind on cloudy days

alternative!sukuna who plays bass for a local rock band that is fairly popular after having posters plastered around town with the word's "63 SKIES" and supporting bands on the page in a distorted and jagged font that matches the intensity of their music and members

alternative!sukuna with metal piercing through his bottom lip, both eyebrows and septum, but not for the look, just because the feeling of being pierced gives him the adrenaline rush that only the last minute before beginning a set can bring

alternative!sukuna who's also tatted as fuck with ink running down both arms and legs, peeking up through the collar of his t-shirt just to reach every part of his face as well

alternative!sukuna who looks like the type of guy to smash bricks over another's face just for speaking to him in the wrong tone, but you find him cooing and caressing a small black cat at the back of the venue he's playing at

alternative!sukuna who immediately stands straight and drops his lips into a thin line at the sight of you holding back your tears of laughter

"well don't let me stop you"

"go to hell" the cat meows and you think she's agreeing with him.

alternative!sukuna who thinks little ole' you in your ugliest sweater and a pair of baggy pants might just be the oddest thing he's seen in a minute but has to remind himself that music isn't limited to anyone just because of the way they dress. he finds it even more interesting if anything, the way you prove that music is universal and has forever transcended stereotypes

alternative!sukuna notices that you have a few tattoos and piercings yourself, not as many as him, but just enough to stand out

"i like your neck tat. what is it?"

"hm?" you feel the side of your neck, sometimes forgetting the permanent ink is even there. "oh, it's kuchi kopi...from bob's burgers..."

alternative!sukuna who laughs hard, a single dimple on his left cheek and teeth fully on display, two sharper than the rest and one with a silver cap in the back. (you just know he was hardheaded as hell as a kid)

alternative!sukuna listens to you talk about your favorite songs and artists, calling you a poser when you mention a particular band that he wholeheartedly believes only he has the right to listen to

alternative!sukuna who thinks he wants to kiss you hard and nasty when you end up having the same favorite song by said band as him

alternative!sukuna who forgets that he promised to give a girl a ride home after catching her stumbling out of the venue with an empty water bottle (spoiler: it was vodka) in her hand

alternative!sukuna grimacing when he catches the raise of your eyebrow when the girl crashes into him slurring how "she was ready"

alternative!sukuna sighing and unlocking his car, telling her to get in and buckle up, that he'd be there in a second, watching as you awkwardly kick a rock around

alternative!sukuna explaining that it's not what it looks like, and he was genuinely trying to get her home safe

"this is my favorite venue and i'll be damned if they end up responsible for some brat's dui."

alternative!sukuna likes it when you laugh

alternative!sukuna who ends up driving the girl home with you in his backseat because the chick was knocked the fuck out by the time he offered to give you a ride too

alternative!sukuna who doesn't break your toes when you prop your feet up on his middle console, the act only making his lips curl at how natural it seemed

alternative!sukuna who tells you about his friends and how they formed the band when they were only 17, playing for free out of someone's garage just for a bit of recognition

he tells you how choso, their drummer once crashed his mom's car into a ditch which led to their first paid gig just for the money to go towards the damages

he tells you how much he can't stand their lead guitarist, satoru, and how he suspects he might have a crush on their lead vocalist , suguru.

you pretend you don't notice the photo of them all together stuck to his rear view mirror.

alternative!sukuna thinks he's oversharing, but can't help it when your cute voice asks him personal questions showing just how interested you are in what he's saying

alternative!sukuna who asks to show you something once the two of you drag the poor drunk girl into her house, locking the door behind her as she lies in the entryway after mumbling something about sucking his dick as payment

alternative!sukuna who takes you to his favorite music shop where he actually has a key specifically from the owner himself. he shows you all the different instruments and explains their make and model when you gasp at how pricey some of them are

alternative!sukuna who sneakily places money on the counter after you pick up a 'sisters of mercy' cd

"i love this album!"

"take it."

alternative!sukuna who shows you his dream guitar, even going as far as to play a song for you on it, before placing it back on the shelf

"why don't you get it?" you'll ask, watching him strum a few strings, eyeing the piece like he's seeing stars for the first time

"i don't deserve it yet."

alternative!sukuna who kicks your legs apart, making room for his longer legs to intertwine with yours and the two of you almost cant believe that you just met tonight, or yesterday considering you're still together after 2am

alternative!sukuna feeling safer with you than he's ever felt, going as far to opening up about his traumatic childhood and why he has 24/7 access to the shop in the first place

you want to cry at how willing he is to share his safe space with you and you think sukuna's the most amazing person you've ever met

alternative!sukuna who tells you that he's never met anyone like you before and how badly he needs to be able to see you again after tonight.

you agree.

alternative!sukuna who wordlessly kisses you before locking the shop back up, large hands cupping the sides of your face as yours hold on to his forearms, holding on to each other in fear that tonight was a dream

alternative!sukuna who tells you that this is your safe space now too. you think he doesn't notice that you replaced his money on the counter with yours, slipping his back into his middle console.

sukuna thinks you're the most amazing person he's ever met.

lol can you tell how much i love the man? like and reblog if you're feeling freaky