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🏳️‍🌈🇵🇭 19: she/they sukoshi hieta asa da

[mahalsuya]

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𐂴: general:

• about me • request rules; etc. • masterlist •

𐂴: status:

closed; i’m on a hiatus ((oops) update: it’s almost been four years…) i’ll catchup on requests before taking more! <3

requests in inbox: three

𐂴: recent works:

all too well: kuroo tetsuro songfic

artist/painter!jean kirstein boyfriend headcanons

easy: a semi eita songfic/ficlet

all borders/dividers are from here

[spideyyeet]

The manager of the Egyptian Relief Committee in Gaza, Mohamed al-Wahidi, was assassinated by an IOF air strike this afternoon in Gaza City. So far today, at least 7 martyrs have ascended from these attacks in the Gaza Strip.

The Egyptian Relief Committee in Gaza provides humanitarian aid and on-the-ground support to the Palestinians of Gaza. Al-Wahidi was one of the first humanitarian organization directors to implement a plan to clear the rubble in Gaza, ensuring that families could at least partially move around the Strip on cleared roads.

Under Al-Wahidi's leadership, the Committee had been setting up public screenings of World Cup matches for displaced families. Al-Wahidi was killed just an hour before the Egypt-Argentina game began.

FIFA and other global institutions are not expected to make a statement. (caption via ig/: palestinianyouthmovement)

everything is connected

[anyadanielleee]

can you feel the love tonight? (daichi sawamura x y/n)

series masterlist!!

a/n: okok i had 3 choices for this song because i immediately thought of the karasuno 3rd years trio when i thought of pumbaa, timon, and simba. and then i just wanted to write for daichi so thats why i chose him hahah

also sorry for taking a while to upload this one i got really distracted with blue lock and some of the other drafts i had. but i havent forgotten about this series dw :33

my shortest one yet i just wanted nice short happy fluff <3

🎶 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞: 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐨'𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐰𝐨 🎶

asahi azumane and koshi sugawara had noticed far before you and daichi. far before.

after all, they'd seen their best friend in just about every situation imaginable in the past 3 years, and yet they'd never seen him look at someone the way he looked at you.

the man had been whipped since the very first time he'd met you. it was obvious. the ever composed, academic weapon, captain of the karasuno boys volleyball team had stuttered trying to introduce himself to you. and asahi and koshi were there the entire time, jaws dropped in absolute shock.

see, they'd always known daichi was an attractive, responsible young man - exactly the type that girls would swoon over - but never once had they seen him reciprocate those feelings.

and as much as they'd tried to deny it to themselves, right now, watching you throw yourself into his arms after you'd come all the way and watched them win their game at nationals, they had to face the truth.

their dear friend was hopelessly in love with you. and you were in love with him too.

because a 'friend' didn't just spend hours driving to tokyo just to support. a friend didn't hug someone like they were a victorian woman separated from their husband at war. a friend didn't stare at someone the way you did for daichi.

koshi sighed dramatically as he watched you and daichi walk off to the side, his arm already wrapped loosely around your shoulders, soft laughter coming from the two of you.

"well, asahi, would you look at that?" the broad shouldered, gentle giant sighed softly in response to koshi's question.

"yeah.. we might've lost him, sugawara."

"no, i think we lost him the very first time those two met. now, though? they're so in love it hurts."

asahi laughed softly, hand coming to the back of his neck. "...i'm happy for daichi, though. he's always deserved someone like her. someone who makes him smile like that."

the two boys looked up again, watching daichi now smile brightly as you held your phone up for a picture of the two of you. you'd always loved how willing daichi was to do things like that with you.

whether it was taking photos with stupid filters, visiting places that really only appealed to teenage girls, or watching those incredibly random tiktoks you'd send him at night, daichi always seemed to make time for you. to put in effort to get to know you better. to love the parts of you that you normally wouldn't mind hiding for the sake of others.

and though he didn't want to say it so bluntly to you just yet, he felt that you did even more for him. to put it simply, you made him want to be better. sure, he could sit and settle for what he already had - there wasn't anything wrong with how he was right now - but there was something about getting to look up into the stands after a crucial save and see you grinning at him. something about getting even just 1 point higher than his previous score on a test and hearing your words of affirmation. something about seeing you simply smile softly and nod encouragingly when he'd have to be a bit harsher with a team or group he'd lead.

it was all of that. you were the first person he'd look to, the first face he'd search for in a crowd, the first smile that had ever made him feel so... warm inside.

and right now, just hearing you talk about your drive to tokyo and how well he'd played, he realized he actually was in love with you.

he'd always seen those movies and songs and books where this big realization of one's feelings happened out in the rain or after a near death encounter- but no. he realized it on the floor of the tokyo gymnasium. sweaty and tired from the match he'd just played. faintly aware of the 2 pairs of eyes watching him from behind. and yet, he wouldn't have had it any other way.

meanwhile, the two other third years were still intently watching, practically watching daichi's realization happen in real time.

"yup. that's it."

"yeah. they're in love."

"...trio's down to two, i guess."

"is that a lion king reference, suga?"

[blckgirlacid]

I need my weird alone time or I will explode

[mononijikayu]

happy home — ryomen sukuna.

"hey, mom?" were the first words high school volleyball ace ryomen sukuna remembered uttering that time. sukuna tried not to sound hopeful when he said it. but he couldn't help it. not when he was this vulnerable. especially when the person he's talking to was the mother he had longed for.

he sat alone on the wooden bleachers after volleyball practice, one arm draped over the ball resting beside him. most of the team had already left. the echoes of sneakers squeaking across the gym floor had faded minutes ago, leaving only the distant hum of the air conditioning and the occasional bounce of a forgotten ball somewhere in the building.

the afternoon sunlight filtered through the high windows, painting streaks of gold across the court. on the other end of the line, his mother sounded distracted, though not intentionally so. "hey, sweetheart. sorry for picking up so late. dad and i are cleaning up."

he swallowed. "we've got regionals this saturday."

there was a brief pause on the other line.

"really? that's wonderful. congratulations!"

sukuna stared down at the polished floor. he already knew what was coming. still, some stubborn part of him refused to stop asking. he still had that hope, that foolish yet strident hope.

"i was wondering if you and dad could come. its uh, a great time. its probably the first time you'll see me do what i can do, so....if you and dad can come, that would be awesome."

the silence that followed lasted less than two seconds. but it was more than enough of a response. he knew it, he knew it was coming.  sukuna closed his eyes. there it was. that crushing tension...that brutishly familiar feeling. the one that always arrived before the actual answer did. he could feel the tightening of his chest, the glassy tension watering up his scarlet orbs.

"i'm sorry, sweetheart." his mother's voice softened immediately. "your father and i are leaving tomorrow morning. there's a medical mission scheduled for the weekend."

of course there was.

there always was.

like there always was.

"oh. i see. sorry, uh...i must have disturbed you both." sukuna tightened his grip around his phone. "where....where are you going this time?"

"dad says that it would be somewhere in southeast asia this time. it will be a long trip from where we are now in the west bank, sweetheart."

he nodded automatically despite knowing she couldn't see him. his father was a gastroenterologist. his mother was an orthopedic surgeon. they spent more time in hospitals, clinics, and remote communities than they did at home. people depended on them.

people needed them. he knew that too well. they weren't fooling around. they weren't missing his games because they didn't care. they weren't skipping his matches because they didn't love him.

they were helping people.

saving people who needed help.

doing something genuinely good.

which somehow made it harder to be upset.

because what kind of selfish person got angry over that?

still, he was still a boy. a boy who has spent years and years hoping to have a mother and a father by his side in these important moments. on parents day, grandpa came with him. on children's day, your parents were the ones who gifted him something. he loved them, he loved you. but he couldn't help wondering what it would be like to have the two of them by his side. to feel normal like all those other kids.

"we'll try to make the next one, sweetheart." his mother continued in a breath of rush. "i promise."

the next one, huh? sukuna couldn't remember how many times he'd heard those words. after middle school tournaments. after recognition ceremonies. after birthdays celebrated through rushed video calls from hotel rooms. after every event that had started with him glancing toward the entrance and ended with him pretending he hadn't been looking.

the next one.

the next one.

the next one.

eventually, the phrase had started sounding less like a promise and more like a habit. an intoxicating habit that his parents somehow cannot shake of. a habit he had gotten used to accepting without any other word.

"it's okay, mom....we can't do much about it." he said. "i hope you and dad are alright. you both are probably exhausted too. and busy at that. can't do much about that."

and in a way, it was. because he understood. he really did. his parents weren't bad people. they were probably two of the best people he knew, at least that's what he believes even if it was confusing, even if it hurts to think about. but maybe that was the problem.

it would've been easier if he could hate them for it. it would have been easier to lash out at them, better to let himself get hurt and maybe to hurt others in some other way like he used to do. instead, all he could do was understand. and forgive it all. and all over again hurt in the silence.

"are you sure?" his mother asked quietly, seeming to stop all that she was doing. "sweetheart, you know if—"

sukuna forced a smile she couldn't see. "yeah. i'm sure. don't worry about it too much. grandpa and [name] will be there. they'll cheer me on."

his mother seemingly didn't know what to say about that. instead, the conversation continued for another minute. she asked about school. then about volleyball and his college prospects.

and then about whether he was eating enough.

the same questions she always asked whenever they managed to find time to call him. the same things a stranger would ask to another stranger. those were the topics of conversation by the end of it all. and then the call would grow cold feet and all the sudden, it would just end. the screen would go dark. and then, ryomen sukuna, seventeen years old, would just sit there by himself to reflect and then to cry and then wash his face. just so no one would notice how puffy and red his eyes were, like he had done for his whole life.

all the sudden, the gym felt emptier than before.

for a long moment, sukuna simply sat there staring at his reflection in the black display.

sometimes he wondered if something was wrong with him. he had parents. and they were alive. they loved him. at least he was sure they do.

they do things all parents do. they remember to pay the bills, they send money home even if sukuna doesn't want to touch any of it. they sent birthday gifts, even if they don't really know what he likes. they called when they could. they remembered every major holiday, every occassion he has going on.....no, well, that one is a lie. they don't always remember.

he sighs. from the outside, it probably looked like he had everything. but sometimes it felt like they were ghosts. ghosts that haunt him as much as ghosts that he finds himself chasing.

but then again, that's just how things went. they were people he heard about more often than he actually saw. people whose faces lived inside photographs and video calls. they were people who existed somewhere out there in the world, but never quite where he needed them to be.

yet sometimes he hated thinking that. it made him feel guilty every time. because there were kids who would've done anything to have parents like his. kids who would've traded places with him without hesitation.

that's the question he asks himself all the time. why? why did it still hurt? why did he still find himself searching the crowd at every game? why did he still ask? why did some stupid part of him keep hoping that this time would be different?

"well." the voice startled him out of his thoughts. "that call's not gone as expected, huh?"

sukuna glanced toward the doorway. "old man, why are you here? what the—"

"aren't you too down for someone on a high after that win, boy?" his grandfather was leaning against the frame with a newspaper tucked beneath one arm.

judging by the amused look on his face, he'd heard far more of the conversation than he was supposed to. sukuna narrows his gaze, trying hard not to let the tears fall. he clears his throat. his grandpa grunts.

"good thing your favorite grandfather doesn't have any plans." his grandfather says, standing in front of his grandson. "wipe that sweat off your face."

sukuna snorted, but still...he listens. he grabs the towel on his bag and wipes his face dry. "you're my only grandfather that's still alive."

"exactly. makes me your favorite by default. you've got no choice, boy." the old man walked into the gym and sat beside him on the bleachers. "i'll be there on saturday."

sukuna blinked. "you don't have to. i know you have card games at the neighborhood club. you don't miss any games. don't want you to—"

"augh, pipe it down, boy." his grandfather cuts him off, shaking his head. sukuna glares at him. "i'm here for a reason. do you think i'd miss watching you terrorize innocent teenagers with a volleyball?"

"okay, that's an insane reason to be here."

his grandfather scoffed dramatically. "not if im here to support my grandson. someone has to lose and they might as well lose."

despite himself, sukuna laughed. he couldn't believe those sort of words came from his grandfather. yet all at once, he could. the man was too much of an unpredictable sort of geezer. still, it made the tightening at his chest feel a little bit better.

the old man nudged his shoulder. "i'm serious, boy. you can do it. you'll do great. with or without them. we're here for you. so, don't think much on it, alright? there's someone waiting for you there."

for the first time since the phone call, some of the heaviness in his chest eased. he slowly nodded at his grandfather, who patted his shoulder, a grin on his face. "thanks, gramps."

"besides, i'm sure i'm not the only one." his grandfather added casually, "your little girlfriend will probably be there too. that girl's going to be holding up her big banner with your name on it—"

the relief vanished instantly and replaced just as fast with a red faced horror. "oi, old man, what the fu—"

"no cursing at me, boy. not today at least."

"you can't just be saying things like that!" sukuna says, knowing fully well that even his neck and ears are red.

his grandpa looked confused. "well, isn't she your girlfriend? you didn't introduce [name] to me for nothing."

"......that's besides the point!" he bit the lower half of his lip, suddenly standing up to meet his grandfather's face head on, still red as a ripe tomato. before long, he lowers his head into his arms. "shit....."

his grandpa ignores him entirely and shrugs. "she's deserving of the mention here, kid. she comes to all your games, makes sure your water bottle's full of cold water, makes sure there's electrolites, snacks on your bag—"

"she's also the manager of the volleyball club!" he couldn't help but argue, rather weakly, if one was being honest. "she....she...."

there was too much overwhelming feeling at the concept of you doing that just for him. he liked the feeling of being so well cared for and loved by you. but the thing is, it's overwhelming. it's just something he couldn't help but describe without words. not even properly like this.

you do so much for him, quite more special than what his grandpa was describing. yet it was just....he doesn't know what to do. how could one be so confident with the one they love, now that theyre comfortable, yet be so contradictory to the world about the love he was so proud about?

his grandfather grunts amused. "i'm sure the fact that she always sits near your side of the court is a complete coincidence, isn't it?"

sukuna groaned and dropped his face into his hands once again, shaking his head. his grandfather laughed loud enough for it to echo through the empty gym.

at that moment, the world felt weightless. just a while ago, the world felt like it was crashing down, not feeling whole. and yet, the thought of his grandpa being there, and most of all, you being there, it made it all feel so freeing. the feeling was mad, everything about it was unexplainable. but even with the pain, it felt good. it felt so good to be so wanted.

a little moment passed before sukuna found himself laughing too. because maybe his parents wouldn't be there. maybe they never would be. but there were still people who showed up. people who chose to stay. people who made the effort.

and for that moment, sitting beside his grandfather while being mercilessly teased about you, the empty seats didn't feel quite so painful. his grandpa squeezes his shoulder. sukuna lifted his head, removing his hands from his face.

"you're doing good kid."

sukuna didn't know what to say.

but it was obvious, what he thought.

the eyes, they always tell.

to his grandfather, it was more than enough.

years later, the captain of the tokyo great bears, volleyball player ryomen sukuna had found himself sitting in another set of bleachers. well, not bleachers exactly. but it was close enough that the position of that moment made him reflective as then when he sat on those high school bleachers.

the kindergarten auditorium had tried very hard to look elegant, but there was only so much anyone could do when the audience consisted of excited parents and the performers consisted of five-year-olds wearing oversized costumes held together with safety pins.

the massive room buzzed with conversation, reverberating through the velvet lined walls. many of the parents chatted while adjusting cameras and their phones. all the teachers hurried back and forth behind the curtains, stressed looks on many of their faces.

somewhere nearby, a child was crying because they had lost a paper crown. another child was loudly announcing that they needed to use the bathroom immediately. it was chaos, absolute and uncontrolled chaos. anyone would have been in thier right mind to leave.

one could say he should be practicing like all the national other teams, for the olympic qualifying rounds. but he couldn't help it. he didn't want to have this special day to overlap with something this important. it may not be important to other people, but it was important to him.

this was worth cancelling practice for. because ryomen sukuna wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else. this is where he would rather be right now, for his family, for his daughter. this is where he ought to be.

you slid into the seat beside him, balancing a bouquet of flowers in one hand. the moment you sat down, you noticed the familiar posture. your husband had his arms folded, with his back as straight as a ruler, his scarlet eyes fixed firmly on the stage.

you couldn't help but smile tenderly at the sight of him so focused. it was just like his volleyball practices, when he's trying to get down something the coach said about the game play. but this time, it was for his beloved daughter. he wanted nothing more than to capture every moment, as if it was a move that would win his team the championship.

"you know, my love, this is rare." you said casually, "i'm still shocked you actually cancelled practice for this."

sukuna glanced at you. "why?"

"because you're you." you tell him, grinning. "you love to get the job done and you love to make sure things get results. you take practice seriously, my love. i know you. you've never done this before."

he frowned, which only made you laugh harder. "babe, this is the real shit. this is important. im not gonna be absent to kumibear's first dance recital."

"your team looked devastated." you giggled. "its interesting. they usually hate practice, but they seemed devastated. i think that you've mellowed after 'kumi was born."

he waves it off, probably unable to register what you mean. being so focused on the stage. he nods. "they'll survive. it's not like they aren't going to sleep this day off."

"one of them looked like he was about to cry. wait....wasn't satoru also crying then?"

"nah, he's dramatic. and it's probably not even about having no practice. he's probably crying because his ex is finally giving him a chance and he finally could ask her out because of the day off."

he snickers. "and everyone else, well, those idiots can get over it. its one day....not like we'll fail to qualify because we didn't practice one day."

you snorted. "well, i suppose you're right."

sukuna looked back toward the stage as teachers adjusted microphones and arranged props. "we can miss one practice. just this once. let me have this."

your eyes soften at your husband, your free hand reaching over his to squeeze it. "you do deserve it, my love. you always have."

he smiles as he turns to you. "i know. that's why i'm happy."

as he said that, the lights started to dim slightly. he removes the side that separated your chair and his and pulled you closer. you laughed quitely as he wraps his arms around you. you put the flowers on the empty side and then leaned against your husband's body.

conversation throughout the auditorium began to quiet. the teachers started ushering children into position behind the curtain. instantly, sukuna's attention sharpened. you could practically see it happen.

his sharp scarlet eyes shifted toward the stage. his shoulders straightened. his entire focus narrowing to a single point. you followed his gaze. you lift your head as you whispered. "you're nervous."

"i'm not nervous." he shakes his head. "i'm fine."

"you're absolutely nervous." you whisper lowly. "i can tell, your tense my love."

"it's a kindergarten recital."

"exactly. so why are you tense? there's no award ceremony for it."

his jaw tightened. you grinned. "my love."

"what?" he looks down at you, confused.

"she's dancing to a song about vegetables. with everyone else. this is a group effort."

"and? i wanna see her do well."

you leaned closer. "you're acting like she's about to perform at the olympics and needs to bring the gold medal."

he didn't answer immediately, his face red with blushing. you smiled, shaking your head as you leaned on his body once again, your hand free from his grasp. but he hasn't moved from his position. instead, his scarlet gaze remained fixed on the curtain.

waiting.

watching.

expecting.

when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than before. ".......i just don't want her looking for us and not seeing us. i want her to see us real fast and know that we're here cheering for her."

the words hit you so unexpectedly that your teasing vanished. you lifted from your position and looked at him. for a moment, neither of you spoke. because you understood immediately. he wasn't talking about the recital. at least not anymore.

he was talking about every game he'd ever played. every tournament. every ceremony. every moment he'd searched a crowd filled with strangers. hoping, just once, that his parents would be there too. like everyone's parents were.

your hand found his once again, his fingers intertwined with yours automatically. a habit built over years. you smile at him reassuringly. "don't worry. you raised her well. she knows that we'll be there. so don't think her eyes will fail her now. she's like her dad, she has eagle eyes. so, she'll see us, my love. it's okay."

his thumb brushed gently across your knuckles. "i know, i know....but i guess i needed to hear that. thank you, babe. you always calm me down."

you pressed a kiss on his cheek. "of course, my love. im always here for you, no matter what."

the curtain finally opened. and there she was. ryomen sukumi was standing near the center of the stage in a bright yellow costume that was apparently supposed to make her look like a sunflower.

she looked ridiculous.....just absolutely ridiculous. the costume was too big on her. one side of the petals was slightly bent. and somehow she had managed to put one shoe on backwards.

but sukuna was happy about that. because in his eyes, even in this mismatched outfit, even if she looked ridiculosu, everything about her was perfect. everything about it was incredibly perfect. sukuna couldn't help but smile.

the moment her eyes swept across the audience, she spotted the two of you. her entire face lit up. she waves towards the two of you, grinning from ear to ear. "she found us, my love. i told you!" you whispered, waving back to her.

sukuna's chest tightened. sukumi immediately began waving even more wildly. so wildly in fact that she completely ignored whatever instructions her teachers had given beforehand. several parents laughed. a teacher gently tried to lower her arms and did so multiple times. but sukumi only waved harder.

you couldn't stop smiling. you pulled out your phone and started taking pictures and videos. beside you, sukuna lifted his hand and waved back immediately. without hesitation, without embarrassment. without caring that several other parents had turned to look. all that mattered was that she could see him wave back and happily so.

the second sukumi saw her loving dad wave back, her grin doubled in size. and just like that, she relaxed. the nervousness disappeared from her shoulders. the uncertainty vanished, the issues with the big costume being too much for her all, ones which made her throw a tantrum five minutes ago, had all but disappeared.

because she had found what she was looking for. her parents were there, watching her. they were there, exactly where they were supposed to be, smiling from the bottom of their hearts, ignoring the world, and focusing their eyes on their beloved daughter alone.

in a few moments, the new music started to blast into the speakers. they start to transition from acting into dancing. if it could even be called dancing. half the children forgot the choreography within thirty seconds.

one little boy wandered toward the wrong side of the stage. another became distracted by something on the floor. a girl near the front spun enthusiastically in the wrong direction for nearly the entire performance. but your daughter sukumi wasn't much better.

she missed several steps and almost instantly forgot part of the routine. your little daughter spent an alarming amount of time looking directly at the audience instead of her teacher. but she was laughing and she hasn't stopped waving at the two of you.

it was the cutest thing sukuna had ever seen. he watched every second. every spin. every mistake. every laugh. every time she glanced toward the audience just to make sure the two of you were still there. and every single time she looked, she found him.

waiting.

watching.

present.

for her.

you looked away from the stage for a moment, just taking in the time to look at him. his expression had softened completely. the intimidating volleyball god. the man who terrified opposing teams. the man who rarely smiled in public. every bit of that man was gone.

instead, he was replaced by a father completely enchanted by his daughter, overwhelmed by the love he had for his daughter, you would have thought when he screamed "you're doing great sweetie" as he took out his phone to record, that he was crazy. but he was far from crazy. he was just a father who loves and loves wholeheartedly.

you squeezed his hand. "you're smiling."

"am not."

"you are." you shake your head at your husband, putting down your phone, laughing. "gosh, you're such a tsundere, my love."

he didn't seem to register what you said as he took another angle for the camera to capture your daughter's memories in. "i'm not."

"your face hurts from smiling."

"babe. no offense, but i'm trying to focus so stop talking, i want to hear her sing." you laughed quietly, but you stopped, letting him focus on capturing performance "go kumibear! you're amazing! yeah, twirl that twirl, baby girl!"

many of the parents giggled, as you do. but everyone felt good about it. they may love their kids, they may want to be there for their kids, but you knew that no one could love their kids more than your husband loves sukumi. not even close.

when the performance finally ended, the auditorium erupted into applause. sukumi immediately started searching for the two of you again. sukuna stood before anyone else both hands raised high, happily applauding as though she had just delivered the greatest performance in history.

sukumi beamed at her dad and soon enough was resting in his arms, lifted up by his muscular, tattooed arms, being spun as he kissed her cheeks, making her giggle. you laughed, capturing the moment on your phone.

"you did such a good job, kumibear!"

"papa, did you see me? did you see 'kumi dance and act?" she excitedly asked. "did you enjoy it?"

"papa did see you, kumibear. you waved at papa, remember?"

"ohhh, that's right." she giggled, causing him to smile. "did you like it?"

he grins at her. "of course i like it. but tell you what, i love it more! you did so well, pretty. papa is happy that kumibear is so good."

sukumi smiled, bright and satisfied. "'kumi's happy, papa! you love it, lots! that makes me so happy!"

sukuna laughs at his daughter. "well, i'm glad that it makes you as happy as i am."

you moved forward as you put your phone away. before long, you were placing a kiss on your husband's cheek and your daughter's own face, still holding the bouquet. "oh, you two are just so cute."

sukumi gasps, seeing the flower. "mama, is that for me?"

you smiled. "yes, kumibear. it's for you. mama got you your favorite color too. pink!"

she kicked her feet, asking for her dad to put her down and sukuna does. he watches as sukumi jumps into your arms, making you laugh as you balanced her and the bouquet. your daughter kisses you as you two talk about the performance and how proud you were of her.

as he watches the two of you, suddenly, for the briefest moment, sukuna remembered another gymnasium. another set of bleachers. another version of himself. a teenage boy staring toward an empty seat. just waiting for things that maybe would never come.

the memory flickered through his mind and disappeared just as quickly. because unlike then, he wasn't the one searching anymore. unlike then, the seat wasn't empty. and it will never be.

as long as he's here, as long as he could love you enough, love sukumi enough, and always show up, it would be a good life. it would be a happy home. that's all that matters, no matter what else comes his way.

he moves towards you, and feeling him behind you, you couldn't help but smile. he smiles as he leans forward and kisses you on the lips. you grinned wide as you kissed him back. sukumi who was focused on her little bouquet, looked at you two and made a disgruntled sound.

"papa's giving mama cotties!"

the two of you part, and ended up laughing at what she had just blurted out loud. he shakes his head as he leans down to pick her up carefully and moves closer to you. "but papa has no cooties, kumibear. and besides, papa loves mama a lot. that's just another way of showing her that i love her a lot."

"but all boys have that!" he looked perplexed and that made you laugh.

"now where are you hearing that?"

"the other girls in school say so! they said kissing boys gives you cooties!" sukuna shakes his head exasperated at her words, making you laugh even harder.

"okay, they're right. no kissing boys. they all suck. but papa doesn't have cooties. papa is cool and he loves mama."

sukumi turned her head slowly, so very slowly. it was the kind of slow, suspicious turn that immediately made both of you nervous. she stared directly at her father. sukuna stared back. for a moment, neither of them spoke. it was then sukumi narrowed her scarlet eyes.

"but papa is a boy."

you immediately snorted. sukuna looked personally offended. "i am not just a boy, kumibear."

"you are."

"i'm your father."

"that's still a boy."

you nearly doubled over laughing. sukuna shot you a betrayed look. but that was too much. you only laughed harder. "don't look at me, my love." you managed between breaths. "she's got a point."

"she does not."

"she absolutely does."

sukumi nodded enthusiastically. "see? mama knows."

"your mama encourages bad behavior."

"hey, i do not!" you argue.

"that's because mama is smart." the response from sukumi came so quickly that even you blinked. "papa is a boy!"

sukuna looked horrified. "absolutely not, kumibear. papa is not in that category!"

"absolutely yes."

"you don't even know what we're talking about anymore."

"i know mama is smart, though!"

you grinned triumphantly. "i like this conversation. well done, kumibear. mama is happy." sukumi grinned at you and blew kisses. "okay, mama is going to buy you ice cream later, okay?"

"yay!"

"of course you will."

you grinned at him and winked. "with your card, my love!"

sukuna shifted her more comfortably on his hip as the three of you slowly made your way out of the auditorium. around them, parents were still gathering about with their children, still taking photos, and congratulating teachers. several kids were still running around in costume, seemingly fueled by unlimited energy.

sukumi wrapped her arms around sukuna's neck. "papa."

"what?"

"did you have cooties when you were little?"

you immediately covered your mouth. sukuna looked ready to walk directly into traffic. "no, papa didn't have them. not even when papa met mama, no."

"never?"

"never."

"not even once?"

"not even once."

sukumi gasped dramatically. "wow."

"what's wow about that?"

"that's lucky."

"it's not luck."

"then what is it?"

sukuna opened his mouth and then paused. he had words in his head but nothing in his mouth, so closed it again. because how exactly was he supposed to explain this?

you were already laughing before he even attempted an answer. "good question, my precious kumibear. tell us, papa. what do you mean by that?"

"don't encourage her."

"why? i'm curious now."

sukuna looked at you flatly. "you are the least curious person here. well, at least with this situation we have here."

you grinned at him. "i don't know. maybe you were born immune."

"immune to what?"

"cooties."

he sighed heavily, the kind of sigh that came from years of loving you. "you're both impossible."

"mama says that's because we're related."

"that's not how genetics works."

"genetics?"

sukumi perked up immediately. "what's genetics?"

"don't answer that."

"why?"

"because we're standing here and its not going to be appropriate."

"that's fair."

sukumi hummed thoughtfully before suddenly remembering something. "but if papa doesn't have cooties, why do you kiss him?"

sukuna nearly dropped her. you laughed so hard you had to grab his arm to steady yourself. "what kind of question is that?"

"i'm asking. kumibear is curious!"

"i can see that." sukuna says to her, grumbling.

"well?" she looked between the two of you expectantly.

waiting, in the way children always did when they asked a question they genuinely wanted answered. sukuna looked at you. you looked at sukuna. neither of you wanted to be the first one to answer. which meant, naturally, sukuna lost. he always lost. especially when it came to the two girls in front of him.

"because...because...." he began carefully, "when you love someone, sometimes you want to show them."

sukumi listened seriously. "with kisses?"

"among other things."

"like hugs?"

"yeah."

"and flowers?"

"those too."

she thought about that. "and ice cream?"

you immediately nodded. "especially ice cream, baby."

"that's not the point."

"it absolutely is." you say to him.

sukumi gasped. "then i show people i love them all the time!"

you smiled. "you do, kumibear. me and papa are so happy you are so loving."

she giggled, happy with the compliment. "you know, i gave uncle yuuji half my cookie last week."

"that's very loving." you say enthusiastically.

"and i shared my crayons."

"also very loving." sukuna says with a pleased nod.

sukumi looked extremely pleased with herself. sukuna couldn't help smiling. because she was right. children had a way of simplifying things that adults spent years overcomplicating.

to her, love was sharing snacks. sometimes its saving someone a seat at the lunch table. sometimes its making sure its safe to cross the street by holding someone's holding hands. or even offering crayons so they could draw together.

it was simple.

it was so honest.

so uncomplicated.

much like the way she loved.

and much like the way he loved her.

"so, papa....." sukumi concluded confidently. "i can kiss mama because i love her, right?"

"yes." he nodded back at his little girl.

"and i can hug mama because i love her."

"yes, you can do that too."

"and papa can kiss mama because he loves her."

"yes, because papa wants to show mama he loves her a lot." he says with a grin, which made you playfully roll your eyes as you hit him softly on the arm. "what? that's true."

"but i still shouldn't kiss boys at school."

you nodded. "yes, kumibear, that's correct."

sukuna suddenly got serious. "yeah, baby. they're all ugly and stupid. they should not even be near you. boys shouldn't be around you, kumibear."

sukumi seemed just as serious. "and because they have cooties."

before you could answer, sukuna spoke first. "but most especially, kumibear, its because they're annoying and stupid. so don't go near boys, okay? they'll infect you with stupid boy cooties."

you burst out laughing at his words. sukumi gasped, her face petrified. "really? boys have that!"

"absolutely."

"all of them?"

"every single one."

"hey."

sukuna glanced at you. "what?"

"you were once a little boy too."

he shrugged. "and i was annoying. what else can be said about that? i changed, though."

you snickered. "alright, fair. but to be fair, you were very annoying."

"extremely." he nodded back at you. and then looked at sukumi. "that's why you should stay away from boys, kumibear. boys all have stupid boy cooties and way badder cooties!"

sukumi giggled. "papa had cooties."

he groaned. "i did not."

"you did."

"i didn't."

"you did."

"kumibear."

"yes?"

"i'm literally carrying you."

she immediately wrapped her arms tighter around his neck. with her big scarlet eyes, she looks at him tenderly. sukuna had no chance of winning. not one bit. that made you laugh.

"because i love you. so papa wouldn't let me fall, won't he?"

the words came so naturally and so casually. those were the kind of things children said without realizing how much weight those words carried. sukuna went quiet for a second, eyes widened and flustered. even for just a second, he was too stunned to speak.

but you noticed. you always noticed. his hand moved gently against her back and steady, protective. but most of all, certain. his eyes, the same eyes he had given her, shown in the best lights. he smiled at her. "i love you too."

sukumi smiled and pressed her cheek against his shoulder, all too completely content and safe. as the three of you continued walking out the building and toward the car in the parking lot, sukuna found himself thinking about all the years he'd spent searching crowds.

all the years he'd spent wondering whether someone would show up. whether someone would stay. whether someone would choose him. he'd spent so much of his childhood looking for love in empty seats.

now he carried sukumi in his arms, walked beside her and held her hand. he heard her laugh. he had the pleasure of being a part of everything that she was. it was such a good feeling.

and every time he looked at you and sukumi, he felt the same thing. there was no absence and there was no disappointments. there could be longing. but each and everytime, there would be certainty. he was sure of that.

ryomen sukuna, who walked so far to get here, was finally here where he was meant to be.

"papa, kumibear has a question."

he looks at her as he buckles her into the carseat. "what is it, kumibear?"

"will kumibear get cooties if she kissed a girl in the cheek?"

he looks at you.

then back at sukumi.

you started laughing.

"oh, dear....you have stuff to deal with, my love."

sukuna's face was stupified. "what? what does that mean, 'kumi?"

"i like sakura, the one i seat with!" she beamed.

sukuna lowered his head. "i didn't know i have to warn off little girls too...."

you laughed. "you can do it, papa!"

[chastiefoul]

college!au — tutor!nanami kento | pre-relationship

i had so much fun making this, lmk if u want more!!

[feyrinnn]

꒰melody꒱ asking boyfriend!choso to fuck your throat mdni ꩜ smut, intimacy & aftercare. art by @/kanmi013

"I don't want to hurt you"

"You're not going to hurt me, Cho"

It was a little ridiculous to be debating right now, considering the position you were in – on your back, head slightly hanging off the edge of the mattress, and right in between your boyfriends thick thighs.

It's not like it was the first time you suggested something that made him red as a tomato. Actually, you would have thought he was used to it by now.

From above you, Choso's adams apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed thickly, somewhere between hypnotised and worried. "What if you can't breathe?" he reasoned.

"I'll tap your leg if it's too much" you reassured.

Normally he was always happy to try whatever you suggested, but you could see why he was a little apprehensive about this one.

You could just about make out his handsome face in this awkward position, but once he started moving, you would be completely trapped under him... a thought you actually quite enjoyed.

Choso considered it for a moment longer, a hand lazily stroking his member just inches away from you – already suspiciously hard despite his hesitation.

It was like he was teasing you, having it so close but still so far. Was it so wrong to just want the love of your life to fuck your throat?!

"Ok…" Choso finally sighed reluctantly, but the way his cock twitched in his grasp was fooling no one. "Can you, um, open your mouth?"

You did.

"Fuck" Choso gasped immediately, throwing his head back in ecstasy despite not having even entered you yet.

You couldn't help a devilish smile, admiring how he bit his bottom lip above you with barely controlled lust. "Do you need a moment, Cho?" you teased.

"No! No" he quickly said, looking down at you again with a long exhale. "You look really good like that"

His dark eyes were locked on yours now, mesmerised. Despite how hard you wanted to tease him for getting so excited just looking at you, there was no denying he did the same to you.

Embarrassing, really. The way your thighs squeezed together at the sight of him alone.

"You look good too" you replied softly, feeling your own face grow hot.

"Yeah?" he smiled, beginning to stroke himself again. "You want me to fuck your throat?"

Fuck.

"Y–yeah" you swallowed hard, heart beginning to beat a little too fast inside your chest. "Please"

"Then be a good girl and open your mouth"

He didn't even have to ask you twice.

You willingly parted your lips, as drunk on him as he was drunk on you.

The minute Choso started to sink into your mouth your eyes began to water, hands coming to grab his thighs just to have something to hold on to.

It wasn't the most comfortable position to be taking him in, sure, but you were happy he agreed to try it. Even more so hearing the lewd sounds that were coming from his throat, like the sweetest melody.

"Just like that, baby" he groaned, sinking a little deeper. You so wished you could see what he looked like right now. "Doing so good for me"

You really wanted to please him, but you couldn't help the way you constricted around him as he reached deeper, exploring further than he ever had. "Still ok?" Choso asked, waiting for your struggled nod before continuing.

And then he really started moving. Shallow thrusts at first, in and out, in and out. Going deeper with each one, giving you time to adjust to his size.

"Taking me so fucking well" he panted. "Fuck, I can see it" his thumb slowly stroked the bulge on your neck, a tender caress despite how mean he moved now.

Deeper and deeper.

The heat between your legs was starting to get too much to ignore – your boyfriend driving you insane with nothing but his cock in your throat and his little groans and whimpers, as he fucked your face like he would your pussy.

Maybe you'd suggest filming it next time, just so you could admire his expressions.

Though you also enjoyed your imagination.

And as if just to empty all thoughts from your head, Choso pushed all the way in – you choked around him, struggling to accommodate him so deep, but when your boyfriend tried to move back and give you respite, your hands immediately brought his hips back towards you.

"Fuck– you feel so good" he gasped in surprise, mesmerised by how hard you tried for him, by how much you wanted this. "Hold it there for me baby, can you do that?"

You did – growing more and more used to the odd pressure, your face a mix of tears and spit, throat stretched beyond capacity.

"Ahhhh, such a good girl" he exhaled. "Can I–can I cum in your throat?" he asked a little shyly.

You tried your best to nod yes, despite not being able to move much.

Choso understood, moving his hips back again to shove himself back in, one more time, two times, and on the third – he sunk so deep you had no choice but swallow all he was giving you.

You loved it. Both the salty taste and how he moaned above you.

As soon as he was done, Choso removed himself, kneeling down next to your head. "Are you ok?" he asked hurriedly, wiping your face for you, using the towel he had left by the bed for this exact reason.

"Yes" you said, voice a little hoarse. "Did you enjoy it?" you smiled, while Choso brought two hands to your shoulders to help you sit up, treating you like you were precious.

"Yeah" he admitted with a blush on his cheeks. He passed you a glass of water, another precaution he had taken. "I…really did"

You took a slow sip, while his hands slowly rubbed your shoulders and neck, easing the tension you were just starting to feel from the odd position you had been in.

"Good" you leaned forward to kiss his nose then, just above his mark. "Sounded like you did" you teased, enjoying his little grimace.

He took the glass from you as you put your hands on the mattress to push yourself up, but before you could – Choso stopped you with two firm hands on your hips.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, positioning himself between your legs. "It's my turn to hear the sounds you make"

well im ovulating so

taglist @vampyric-puppy @septembermoonchild @plaguecxlt @nanamitiddiechomper @kekeanna266 @amazedfor @dogggggggblog-kaye @literallyadarling @dawnsoblivion @chewiebee @iquitfindingausername @valberryboos @pwd54gr54 @raendarkfaerie @bbfawns @itimisu @sapph22 @bornafairy @sukunahs @hatchus2 @sukubusss @pawwwginaaa @b-bitter

dividers by @angeliicide

[cheeseboy382]

Meow

[lonelyfooryouonly]

pro-hero dynamight reads… thirst tweets?

Series Masterlist/Second Part

summary: pro-hero dynamight is invited to read some tweets from his fans, but they are not ordinary tweets;

warnings: fem!reader, suggestive language, cursing, flirting, mentions of intimate parts, implied sexual content;

wc: 1k

a/c: hope you like it guys! also, should i make other versions? reblogs, comments and likes are always welcomed!

The studio lights flare, casting a harsh glow across the set.

Bakugou Katsuki, now fully established as the Pro Hero Dynamight, leans back in his chair, one arm draped casually over the backrest. His leather jacket is off, leaving him in a plain white shirt. The scars from past battles peek under the studio lights. His sharp eyes scan the room, alert, calculating.

“Yeah… hey,” he says, his voice low but steady. “I’m Pro Hero Dynamight. And today, apparently, I’m reading… fan tweets.”

The producer off-camera clears their throat.

“Uh… these are… thirst tweets.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“...can’t let y’all have normal content, huh?”

A crew member hands him a stack of boards, and he takes them with a curt nod, flipping through them with practiced ease, then he starts reading.

thirst tweet #1

@bakudekudefender69

Pro Hero Dynamight saving the city with explosions AND that slutty waist. Pick a struggle, sir

He leans back in the chair like he owns the space, tongue pressing briefly to the inside of his cheek.

“…Slutty?” he repeats, incredulous, then scoffs. “I’m literally working.”

His eyes flick up, sharp with amusement. “And I’m doing it well.”

thirst tweet #2

@greatexplosionfuckmegod

Dynamight could tell me to shut up and I’d say thank you.

He doesn’t even look at the camera at first. Just reads it. Then—

“Shut up,” he says flatly, like he didn't even care. He glances up with sharp eyes.

“Now where’s my thank you?”

Laughter breaks out, loud and immediate.

thirst tweet #3

@peonypunk00

i’m going to destroy every chair on earth so the only place he has to sit is on my face

He drops his gaze, looks at the chair beneath him, then spreads his legs just slightly — claiming the space.

“Well, you’re doing a terrible job,” he says, smirk slow as his gaze dips. “I’m clearly sitting just fine.”

thirst tweet #4

@dynadaddy_

top me @/dynamightofficial, i deserved it

Katsuki hums, slow and thoughtful, like he’s genuinely considering it. He tilts his head, eyes narrowing with interest rather than annoyance.

“What’d you do to earn that?”

thist tweet #5

@explosive_thoughts

‘Oh look at me I’m so strong and handsome and I defeated afo’ girl fuck you

He squints, then laughs— sharp, surprised.

“…Okay, first of all,” he says, sitting up straighter, “accurate.”

Then he shrugs.

“Second, I kinda wanna meet them. That’s my level of confidence.”

thirst tweet #6

@dynamight_s_waist

oh i know its veiny @/dynamightofficial

Katsuki’s smile turns slow. He tilts his head, eyes gleaming.

“Oh?” He leans back, arms crossing, gaze never leaving the screen.

“Then go on,” he says. “What else do you know?”

thirst tweet #7

@sparksandzerofucks

Dynamight’s explosions are loud but my moans would be louder.

He exhales through his nose, amused, shoulders relaxing like he’s settling into this now.

“That’s a big claim,” he replies, shaking his head.

thirst tweet #8

@/groundzero0

I could take Dynamight

“In a fight?” Katsuki asks immediately, brows furrowing, genuine confusion on his face.

The director coughs. “Uh… no.”

He blinks. Then groans, dragging a hand down his face. “…I hate this place.”

thirst tweet #9

@bunnyspony

dynamight’s name is so long, i wonder what else is

Katsuki leans forward again— slowly, intentionally— forearms braced on his thighs.

“I’ll tell you what isn’t,” he says coolly. “My patience.”

thirst tweet #10

@y_n_bakugou

@/dynamightofficial tomorrow isn’t promised!!! we need to fuck today!!!

“The fuck—” He freezes. Stares intently at the username, then groans so hard he drops his head back.

“Why is my wife on this list?” He points at the screen. “And why does she have internet access?”

thirst tweet #11

@no1pussypopper77

I need to see Dynamight’s abs right now 😫😫

He sighs, already halfway standing. “Relax.”

With zero hesitation, he lifts his shirt just enough— no flexing, no posing, just defined muscle and obvious strength.

Gasps and giggles erupt in the studio, and one very loud oh my god can be heard.

He drops the shirt like nothing happened.

thirst tweet #12

@redsoji

Dynamight’s fav sex position must be missionary since that man never shuts his mouth. We can argue in peace while he’s dicking me down.🤤🤤

Katsuki considers it, nodding slowly.

“Clever theory,” he says.

Then he looks straight into the camera. “But wrong.”

There is a pause, then,

“It's doggy.”

People in the studio gasp, again.

thirst tweet #13

@dynamightfanpage

the way he leans in when he’s annoyed??? Sir, this is not foreplay. Or is it??👁️👁️

He reads it, then deliberately leans in again— closer, heavier, gaze unwavering.

“This is how I get people to listen,” he says evenly. “If you’re distracted,” his mouth curves, “that’s your problem.”

thirst tweet #14

@katsuki_s_lefttesticle

I’m IN LOVE WITH THIS MAN THERE’s JUST SOMETHING UNDIAGNOSED ABOUT HIM

Katsuki snorts.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s called drive.”

thirst tweet #15

@explosionbetweenmylegs

Dynamight makes me see sparks but can he make me see stars as well???

His smile turns sharp and controlled.

“That depends,” he says slowly, “on how much you can handle.”

thirst tweet #16

@kurabaku88

I love Great Explosion Sex God Dynamight or whatever is name is

He exhales, shaking his head.

“…They never say it right,” he mutters.

Katsuki exhales slowly through his nose and finally lowers the last cardboard, as he lets it drop onto the pile.

He leans back in his chair, spreading his legs, one arm draped over the backrest, the other sitting in his lap. There’s a grin pulling at his mouth— lazy, entirely too pleased with himself.

He quickly scans the studio: the crew still half-laughing, the director rubbing their face, someone behind the camera very clearly regretting their life choices.

“You’re all insufferable perverts,” he says, voice low and rough with amusement. Not angry. Not scolding. He’s entertained. His eyes flick towards the camera, sharp and knowing.

“Seriously. You really think you could handle me just because you’re typing behind a screen?”

He scoffs, shaking his head once, smirk widening as he taps the edge of the cardboard against his knee.

“Pathetic,” he adds— then pauses, grin sharpening. “…But I don’t hate it.”

Then his grin fades into something slower, more deliberate. His eyes narrow as if he has just remmebered something.

“…And you,” he says, lifting hand, finger pointing towards the camera, voice dipping into something dangerous but unmistakably playful, “just wait until I get home.”

The camera clicks shut.

[paperellina]

toji crying at his daughters highschool graduation... :( (papa toji x fem reader)

the photographer you guys hired is trying desperately to get a normal picture while your daughter keeps laughing halfway through every shot.

shes standing out in the sun in her graduation gown, fixing her hair between pictures and trying her absolute best whenever the photographer asks her to pose a certain way, and all you can think is how pretty she looks.

you dont notice it at first, hes standing beside you with his arms crossed, broad shoulders stiff beneath his button up, watching your daughter while she smiles for the camera. then your hand brushes his arm and you glance up, immediately pausing when you catch the look on his face.

his jaw is clenched tight and his eyes are so glossy.

before you can even say anything, a tear slips down his cheek. and you stare at him, almost shocked that youre able to keep it together more than he is.

"toji, are you crying?" you ask softly, shuffling closer.

his head turns so fast it almost makes you laugh.

"ain't cryin'." he grunts, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek. the denial would have been much stronger if there wasnt another tear already making its way down his face.

he almost angrily wipes at his eyes and looks away toward the photographer again like that somehow fixes the situation.

across the lawn, your daughter is smiling through another picture, sunlight catching on her gown while she laughs at something the photographer says, and the second toji looks at her again, his expression crumples completely.

"fucks sake." he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand over his face, "look at 'er."

you look at her, and shes beautiful, the same little girl who used to spend most her time in her dads arms, the same little girl who used to hold onto two of his fingers instead of his whole hand.

toji shakes his head slowly, eyes fixed on her, his voice cracks barely. "swear to god she was a baby five minutes ago."

you smile softly, your hand rubbing the junction between his shoulders, reaching up to kiss his cheek.

"baby, shes eighteen." you murmur.

toji looks away because that physically pains him. he can feel his heart clenching, tears continuing to roll down his cheeks even though hes trying so hard to keep composure. his baby is all grown, and he cant take it.

youre laughing and getting emotional at the same time, your hand still rubbing his shoulders. the photographer calls for parents to join the next set of pictures, and your daughter immediately waves both of you over with the biggest smile on her face.

toji takes one look at her and lets out a long suffering sigh, shaking his head while rubbing at his eyes again.

"aint no reason she oughta be this grown already." he grumbles.

you hook your arm through his and lean into his side, feeling him immediately wrap an arm around your waist.

by the time you reach your daughter, tojis still visibly emotional, trying and failing to hide it while his daughter laughs at him for crying, and the look he gives her is so full of love it almost hurts to see.

your daughter smiles softly as she moves to hug him, and toji wraps his arms around her as he reciprocates it, holding her tight. his eyes are still glossy as he presses a kiss to her hair, hecause all he can see when he looks at her is the little girl who used to fit in his arms.

a/n: oh my god shes just his baby thats his baby girl😭😭😭😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢 toji cant take this hes gonna start begging you for another one LMFAO

taglist: @@jjakeysheart @rkivesvs7 @c6choso @shea354 @kiwicherry04 @choco-chipp @tojibunnyy @tojisgdgirl @xoxocherrybabyy @dearwyn @pigtaileddolliee @tojiful @heartcandyslxt @lisabelhyhn @chaeisrichnow @chewiebee @tojisfiancee @retiredpanda @bbvvvy @princesplatano @jaehyunsleftnut @lightandfuryauthor @fysalia @alinacoke @ssrist @bl1ndv3lvet @lisa200976 @vheartsfushi @amarislovesmcdonalds @1ana22 @cherrieslovess @arcanehellokittyforlife69 @lov-3-x @str4wb3rrylife @whoiskaykay @sugurusbun @tojioppshotta @yumyumyu @yvesapple4 @733164 @peonysecret @pr1ncessthug @magicalpeenpoo @unknownowlbokutoswifeyy @eepynataly @bowiesprettieststar2 @bagleaf @lacedwithsarcasm @wholemeltt @ipoopedmypants47

© 2026 paperellina - all rights reserved. do not plagiarise, translate, or feed into any form of ai.

[schtrambotik]

Levi's road to confessing was arduous (to him) and full of longing

contains: angsty fluff. canon universe, reader joined the survey corps a little before Levi became Captain. mentions of canon typical events and minor character death. mostly focused on Levi's view of things. Miche and Erwin are rooting for the two of you, and they gossip about your relationship in their minuscule free time. slow burn ish. no smut.

wc: 6.2k

To Levi, meeting you felt like further proof that the world wanted to consistently push him to the edge of insanity, even if at a smaller scale than every unfortunate event of his past. It was the first time he felt completely weakened by something so harmless, idiotic infatuation. 

He realized very early on, during your first week as a new member of the Corps, that he had an unparalleled interest in you. It appalled him.

For the first couple of months he refused to admit to himself that what he felt when you were around meant anything beyond idle curiosity.

He chalked up his harsh treatment of you during training to simply proving you were a good soldier; instead of what it actually was, a weak attempt to make you give up, because he felt someone like you shouldn’t have to deal with the horrors of the world.

He convinced himself the headaches he would get when you were called on for patrols or expeditions were just a result of his lack of sleep. And that the constant thoughts of you swirling in his mind every damn night would dissipate the longer you were around. He was very wrong about that.

He made it a point to not interact with you outside of training, missions, or briefings. Nonetheless, that didn’t mean he didn’t feed into his curiosity. As subtly as he could. 

He watched you a lot. Enough to know that you were always late for breakfast, trained yourself to the bones even on your off days, volunteered to help around with anything you could, and were particularly good at mending clothes. He knew you liked eating with Hange almost every night, and it was the part of your day he enjoyed the most. On each of those nights he followed the two of you into the mess hall, sitting far enough that Hange wouldn’t get the idea of asking him to join, but still giving himself the appropriate distance to observe you. To commit to memory every little detail he could, how you ate, how you sat, what you talked about, if your nose also scrunched up at the disgusting taste of the tea everyone but him was subjected to; any information he could gather before the sound of your laugh warmed his chest enough to make him leave.

Truthfully, he could have kept that stalker-ish routine going for ages, and he fully intended to; being able to keep his distance while still getting the smallest doses of you seemed like an ideal arrangement in his mind.

It wasn’t until one damning night that he decided this restrictive mindset had to change. He saw you walking with another recruit, late, and alone. He couldn’t properly hear whatever wildly amusing conversation you were having from where he stood; regardless of that, he could still clearly make out the faint sound of your laugh accompanying it. 

The small scene was enough to break him from his ridiculous self-imposed prison. Levi didn’t want to allow himself to indulge in his desires for you. He didn’t feel he deserved to be with you in any capacity further than working alongside each other. Despite that, the idea that someone else could come in and take from him the possibility of a chance with you was much more mortifying than his own insecurities and concerns.

From that alone, he made the decision to allow himself a sliver of your time. And so, the very next day you were graced with your first private conversation with the captain, if you could even call it that.

He approached you after you were done with training, standing against a wooden beam trying to steady your breathing, hair messy, and sweat coating your forehead. 

“Your stance was horrible today.” The abruptness of his presence and his comment caught you off guard.

“What?” You looked at him with a puzzled look, processing whether he was actually addressing you or not.

“During training. You were terrible.” He explained, his tone maintaining its harshness despite your confusion.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so, I’m out of my element today.” You explained plainly, a half-smile tugging on your lips both at the bluntness, and the fact this was probably the first time he came up to you alone.

“And yesterday as well.” 

“Right.”

“You’re not sleeping well.” More of a statement than a question, the dark circles you've been sporting this week probably gave it away.

“I've been having a hard time with it, yes.”

He gave you a firm nod, pursing his lips together in thought. 

“I’ll come find you tonight, I have a tea for that.” He turned around the moment he finished without a second look, not giving you an actual chance to accept or refuse.

Since then, the two of you started a small routine. He’d look for you after dinner and guide you on a brief walk to the top floor of the main building. A teapot and two cups already placed on the window ledge in the back of the room, with a singular candle lit close by; he hoped that the minimal amount of light would make his intense gaze less noticeable. 

It was supposed to last only for however long you were struggling to sleep but continued far past those days. Most times he wouldn’t talk, only listened; he’d let you rattle on about the day if you pleased, indulging you by participating in idle gossip.

“I can reprimand them for that. I trust you’re aware.” He’d slip in when you shared a little too much about the escapades of some recruits, forgetting for a moment he had recently become your superior. 

“Well, this is all alleged. Maybe I didn’t hear it right. This tea is great by the way; is it a different kind?" A blush creeping up your cheeks while you attempted to change the subject, looking at him with a sheepish smile that begged him to forget your prior information.

It took a few weeks, but he started contributing with topics of his own little by little. An opinion, a small anecdote, a complaint. Slowly chipping away at the facade of mystery and harshness that used to be all you got from him before. A part of Levi worried that the more you learnt about him, the less interested you’ll be, but the enjoyment he got from your small interactions vastly outweighed that concern.

A year into meeting you, Levi had grown accustomed to having you near him, even if for brief moments. He enjoyed your company and physically couldn't continue hiding it from you. He still kept enough distance to make his ever-growing feelings unknown to everyone else, and didn’t properly confess anything to you, but his advances grew slightly bolder. 

Your nightly routine changed a lot from how it originally started. Moving from ten minutes of sipping tea in a semipublic space to secluded meetings in the dead of night. Going as far as sneaking you in his private quarters when he came back from travels you were not part of. 

Being away from you became the key that pushed your connection forward. Every time he came back, he wanted to have you around for the night, and he needed the certainty that you wouldn’t be interrupted; the reassurance of it enabled him to make these encounters last for hours.

He sat in a wooden chair next to his desk, beckoning you closer with a simple command. “Show me what happened.”

“You can’t see the bruise with my uniform on.” You argued with a stifled laugh; you had complained to him about a minor injury you sustained recently, something insignificant that happened while he was gone.

“Then change.”

You stared at him bewildered.

“Do I have to do it for you?” His stern tone didn’t falter; it would’ve seemed like an order more than playful teasing, if it wasn’t for how relaxed he looked.

“You returned as tactful as ever, I see.” You laughed, amused at his actions. You made your way to the bedroom, missing the smirk on his face.

You returned to the room in a thin nightgown that made Levi tense at the sight, hands tucking into fists on his lap before relaxing again. His hand sprawled on the back of your right thigh without question once you stood in front of him, pulling it closer to properly view the wide bruise on the outer side of it; purplish hues going from your mid-thigh to the bottom of your glute. 

“This is nothing to you?” It came out softer than he intended. Thinking of you being hurt when he wasn’t around, no matter how little, lowered his guard. 

“It looks worse than it is.”

His hand carefully grazed the bruise, hiking up the edge of your gown in the process. You shivered at the touch. Goosebumps covered your skin, and it did not go unnoticed by him. “Does it hurt?”

“No. I think this helps.” You humored, not bothering to hide your enjoyment of his treatment. 

“I’m sure it does, brat.” He smiled, small, but enough for you to notice. His hand still caressing your leg despite his response.

It took Levi five years to make his feelings for you properly known. But it’s not like you, or others, hadn’t suspected them before that. Despite keeping the matter private, much like most things about him, sometimes he struggled to adequately hide that he had a soft spot for you.

He never outright said he cared about you, never properly held you, but all the things he did do, they proved to be more intimate and sweeter than any regular courting could ever be.

For your first birthday after joining the Corps he went out of his way to gift you a treat from a bakery in your home district. It became a tradition that he fulfilled every year since; he’d go as far as getting it for you in advance if an expedition took place around the date, just in case one of you didn't make it back after.

In your second year, after an expedition where two members of your graduating class were tragically lost, he sneaked you into his quarters every night for a week—Both Erwin and Hange knew but they didn’t say word of it—he’d lay you down next to him, let you cry out your grieve for as long as you needed to, and patiently waited until you grew tired enough to sleep to get some shut-eye of his own.

“I’ll never get used to it, will I?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. 

“No.” While your eyes were glued to the ceiling, Levi’s gaze was fixed on you. His expression was unreadable as usual, but he was completely tormented, wishing he could take this hurt away from you.

“Am I being weak?”

“You’re being human.”

“That’s a yes.” You smiled, attempting to joke, yet the humor in your voice didn’t reach your eyes. Tears fell down in a stream, and Levi had to try his hardest not to reach out and wipe them off your cheeks. “I just—” Your voice broke. To him, the sound evoked a feeling adjacent to being stabbed. “I feel I should be stronger than this. I shouldn’t be surprised over what I signed up for.”

“You’re not surprised; you’re hurt.” Levi chastised, shifting his position to look at you properly. “You did your job, you don’t have to be strong now. Now stop this nonsense of acting like it's shameful to grieve. At least don't do it with me.” 

You didn’t say anything—instead looking back at the ceiling while your hand found his arm, curling up to his side when the tears started burning your eyes once again.

He didn’t try to hold you, but he didn’t pull away. Even after you fell asleep. 

In your third year, when Erwin told him he’d be pulling you out of his team to make you a squad leader, he became sick almost immediately. The notion that you would no longer be under his supervision, that even if you went on the same expeditions as he did, he’d have to wait until the very end before he could know if you were still alive. It circled his head all morning and gave him a headache so outstanding he had to dismiss himself from training that afternoon. 

“What do you think?” Erwin ended the silence that persisted since he broke the news. 

Levi stared absentmindedly. “I think she’ll be a fantastic leader.”

“Is that it?”

“Are you asking for my permission?”

“No, I simply respect you enough to ask for your opinion.” 

“Unless you’re willing to put my preferences above what’s best for humanity, don't ask for my opinion on what you should do with her.”

“Because your preference would be to retire her immediately?” Erwin prodded, with no real expectation for Levi to speak up. It wasn’t the first time he brought you up, and it wouldn’t be the last if Levi kept refusing to trust him with this information. “You don’t have to answer that. I understand you want to avoid telling me what I already know.”

Following your change in rank, the order of retreating met Levi with a wave of asphyxiating dread rather than relief, one that didn’t dissipate until he was able to spot you on your horse, still breathing and in one piece. These concerns were never brought up to you or anyone else for that matter—despite Erwin being aware and willing to speak with him about it if he could just be honest—even if his fear of losing you and not being able to do anything about it grew stronger with every expedition, he kept his worries regarding your well-being private. You always returned; he had no reason to discuss anything he felt. If you were alive and well, he’d be able to mask his love for you for a while longer.

It wasn’t until your fifth year as a member of the Survey Corps when his ‘while longer’ ended. When he had to come to terms with his fears, and his feelings.

He kept his composure as best as he could while going through the list of those dead and missing with Erwin, watching other scouts load bodies into carriages, though he’s sure it did not go unnoticed how tightly he was gripping his gear while he waited for every name to be read. Even then, after all bodies were loaded, the trek to the walls started, and confirmation that you were not one of those lost received; his heartbeat did not return to a healthy rhythm. He needed to see you.

This was the most stressed he ever felt trying to find you after an expedition. Deep down, he could feel something about today was different, as if you not being okay was something he could physically feel. And it didn’t help the fact that it took him so long to spot you; carriages and horses already on the move to safety without him being able to catch a single glimpse of you. 

Every second that passed he could feel his body tense further, cold sweat reaching his palms, a knot tight in his throat that only got tighter the moment he saw you. That sickening feeling of dread he thought he had grown used to crashed down on him and threatened to finish him right then and there. He spotted you being carried by Miche when he made it past the wall. Your body limp in his hold, your inability to even keep your head up made Levi assume the worst and had him rush in your direction before he even realized it.

He got off the horse calm and collected, as if his heart wasn’t threatening to rip itself out of his chest. His relief upon seeing you were still breathing was immediate, yet short-lived as he paid more attention to your injuries. Your left thigh and arm were bandaged. There was blood all over you, dripping from your nose, your mouth, and the seams of the binds on your wounded limbs; you must’ve been hurt close before the order to retreat was given.

It made him sick and brought a vile sting to his eyes, a sensation he had long forgotten.

“She’s okay.” Miche assured him, smiling lightly at how Levi was frowning at you as though telepathically reprimanding you for getting to this state. “Nothing’s broken, but she’s weak. She couldn’t keep riding.”

Levi nodded firmly, not trusting himself to speak right away. He reached under your body, taking you in his arms with little protest from the other man. “I’ll take her. I don’t want her in a carriage.”

“She’d be laying down.” Miche pointed out yet still took a step back once Levi had a solid hold on you, not really wanting to interfere. 

“She’d be alone.” 

Miche nodded, holding back his reaction at what the captain was displaying, and promptly retreating to his horse; more than ready to get back and tell Erwin about this little interaction. 

You were conscious enough to hear the conversation, although far too drained to register the worry behind Levi’s tone let alone comment on it. You had half a mind to realize he carried you back to his horse, helping you on it before getting behind you. He took a hold of the handle and took off in a slow ride, while his left arm went around your waist, keeping you tucked back against him.

One of your hands went to his forearm, giving it a small squeeze to show your acknowledgement before relaxing again.

“Are you okay?” He questioned quietly. Not that anyone would be able to hear him past the sound of hooves against the ground and the many murmurs of civilians watching them pass by. 

You turned your head enough to look at him out of the corner of your eye. The concern written all over his face almost made you forget the waves of pain crashing through you. You nodded, small, before letting the back of your head rest on his shoulder; the tiny action having wasted the remainder of your energy.

“Liar.” He murmured against your hair, the touch of his lips against your scalp so fleeting you could only assume you imagined it. 

That night Levi had been more consumed in his own thoughts than he would have appreciated. You were out most of the ride back to the base; the only thing keeping you upright was his firm hold on you that didn’t falter once. He spent that time wondering what happened, how did you injure yourself, did somebody help you, did you have to drag yourself all the way to your horse and pretend you didn’t feel so bad until it was inevitable?

He imagined every single heartbreaking scenario his brain could come up with, images of you crying out while you bled in the woods flashed through his mind, torturing himself with the idea that maybe you had been near him, maybe you even called out for him and he didn’t hear it, trying to find ways to blame himself for your poor state.

He woke you gently once you made it to the base, helping you off the horse and onto your feet, guiding you to wrap an arm over his shoulder to steady yourself when you were unable to suppress your limping. Everything was a blur for you, every step you took forgotten when the next one happened.

You could remember briefly smiling at Hange when she approached the two of you, catching some of their conversation, and Levi whisking you away before you could manage a goodbye.

“You really busted yourself out there.” You chuckled at her comment and winced immediately after, a stabbing pain reaching your ribs, the mixed noise making her laugh. “You’re okay?”

You nodded, not getting the time to answer before Levi interjected. “She is.” He stated, adjusting his grasp on your hip when you clutched your side.

“Right… I’ll get one of the scouts to take her to the infirmary. Erwin wants to talk to us.” 

“No.” Levi spoke up before Hange could even attempt turning on her heel. “I will take care of it, and I’ll go to his office after. Tell him I’ll only be a moment.” He kept walking without another word, not giving her any time to make a comment on his behavior.

He took you to his quarters, helping you out of your stained cloak and muddied boots before starting to undo the soaked bandages on your limbs. He seemed unaffected by the sight he was met with, the gashes and lacerations covered in dried blood were nothing he hadn’t seen before; but the fact that they were on your body, it brought a shake to his hands he was completely unfamiliar with and he thanked the heavens you were too busy scrunching your eyes together at the stinging feel of him cleaning the open wounds to notice it.

You don’t know if you talked, if he asked you anything, you don’t think so. The only thing you committed to memory was the feel of hardened hands touching you in the softest ways imaginable, guiding you to his bed when he was done and easing you into laying down. He caressed your face before he moved away; the way he looked at you a mixture of longing and thinly veiled restraint.

He left almost as soon as he laid you down, knowing that if you said anything, if you made even the slightest sound, he’d discard his meeting altogether to lay next to you. 

Levi came back less than an hour after with a thick bag under his arm, having raided your room before coming to gather anything you might need. He was being exceedingly obvious today; he knew more than well his friends no longer needed a heartfelt confession to know exactly why he had been so special to you in the past five years with how he's behaved, but for once he couldn’t care less about that matter. 

He found you just as he had left you, now asleep with your mouth slightly agape. Your messy hair tussled all around was the only indication that you moved while he was gone. He pulled a chair next to the bed, not wanting to risk waking you up; ready to patiently wait until he could get you out of your filthy, blood-stained uniform. Your change of clothes and a clean set of sheets awaiting next to him already.

He doesn’t know how long you were asleep for, but it continued through enough hours for him to follow suit at some point.

He vaulted out of the chair when you woke up with a loud cry; the sound was completely gut-wrenching. 

“What happened? What’s wrong?!” He grabbed you by the shoulders with a desperate pull, his eyes searching for yours. The sting of tears threatening to break free he felt earlier returned with a vengeance when you coughed up blood, tears streaming down your face. 

“Talk to me, angel. Please.” He begged, hands reaching for your face, wiping your tears. You didn’t speak, didn’t explain what was ailing you, instead your cries became louder, deafening. 

Levi could feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest, and before he could do anything, more blood came out of your mouth, then your nose, then from your wounds, white bandages drowned in the crimson red liquid. He couldn’t find the words; he didn’t even know what to do. He frantically moved around the room, searching for anything to wipe the blood with, to apply pressure and stop this someway.

Before he knew it, his own eyes were welled up with tears as he desperately tried to stop you from bleeding out, the sound of your crying overwhelming him completely. 

“You’re going to be okay. You’re okay.” He repeated like a mantra, the room spinning around him when he looked at the pool of blood under you. He wiped his tears with his forearm. His heartbeat grew louder, and the sound of it seemed to echo through the room.

You wouldn’t stop crying, and God, you wouldn’t stop bleeding, it was futile to try. Your hands went to his shoulders, bringing him closer to you while you sobbed hysterically. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do.” He wrapped his arms around you tightly, crying onto your hair, hopelessly clinging to you. “I can’t do anything. Please forgive me, angel. Please.” He wept, his grip tightening the quieter your cries became; your energy depleted the longer you kept bleeding. 

“Don’t leave me.” It became uncontrollable; he felt completely out of himself, the sound of his thunderous heartbeat, the feel of your blood on his hands, the pain in his chest crushing him further and further. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Levi?... Levi.” He woke up with a jolt to see you standing above him, mind completely fogged by the images his brain came up with. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room, looking around the now empty bed then back to your fragile frame. 

The glow of the moon coming from the window was the only source of light, but it was enough to see you properly; not in tears, and not bleeding out. Instead, you were looking at him with a puzzled expression, an arm cradling your midsection as you tried your best to stand upright.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I’m—” He closed his mouth before continuing, rubbing his eyes before he looked at you again, a slight wet feeling coating his fingertips—was he crying?—it was just a dream. “Don’t worry. Is something wrong?” 

“I wanted to get out of all this blood. But I could barely make it a few steps past the bed.”

He hummed, burying his face in his hands for a moment, trying to regain his composure. “I’ll help you.” His eyes found you again, narrowed. Going over every inch of your body to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary, to prove to himself that you wouldn’t randomly start bleeding out in front of him. He debated telling you about his dream, telling you about how worried he was earlier and how the stress of his concerns was swallowing him whole right now, but that would mean delving into a conversation he’s unsure he’d be good at. Maybe he’ll need to practice it.

He walked you to the bathroom, arm stretched out for you to hold onto through every step. “You look terrible.” He murmured, helping you stand in front of the small tub. 

“Aren’t you sweet.” You laughed dryly, slowly loosening your grip on his forearm to let him stand back.

You and Levi stared at each other willfully, both waiting for the other to take the next step. 

“Can you do it alone?” He asked while reaching for the top button of your shirt, undoing it slowly, waiting for you to form a response, groggy and restless voice adding something new to his usual stoic tone. 

You wanted to object, tell him he didn’t need to continue. But you were sure you’d end up falling face first on the floor at some point if he wasn’t holding onto you. “Maybe I could.”

“Sure.” He muttered, gaze focused on where his hands started to undo the rest of your shirt, a deep frown covering his features at the side of fresh red bruises covering your left side. 

He carefully undid the bandages on your arm to slowly slide off the shirt. You didn’t care to watch his movements; you couldn’t look away from his face, how concentrated he was, how troubled he seemed over your wounds. It made you smile, both that and the pink tint of his cheeks when he exposed you further. 

If you knew him less, you would’ve asked him to kiss you right then and there, but by now you knew well his only answer to that would be questioning if you were concussed.

Levi kept himself from speaking. Too focused on the crushing weight in his heart over the sight of your bruised and battered frame, a weight that grew more draining the more of your clothes he got rid off. 

His mind also trotted over the idea of kissing you. He thought about it every single day, but now more than ever he wished he had done so before. That way he could pepper every single inch of your body with small soothing kisses now and it wouldn’t be strange, there wouldn’t be a possibility of you freaking out, because by now you would’ve been used to his affections. 

If only he had been braver about it before. 

He desperately wished to hold you tenderly in his arms, to caress your skin and kiss you senselessly, trusting that every bit of his devotion would help you forget about the pain you must be feeling.

“What happened?” He helped you stand above the drain, squeezing your hand before letting you stand on your own. He soaked a cloth before he started carefully scrubbing your arms, trying his best to not pressure the slash on your left arm into bleeding again.

“It was my stupidity. One of my scouts was kicked off his horse, and a titan was going to grab him, and I— It was impulsive. I threw myself at them and I didn’t realize another titan was coming. It was a big mess and I wasn’t thinking clearly.” You yawned between your sentences, watching him with tired eyes, following his hands whenever he bent to dampen the cloth and settling back on his face when he returned; his eyebrows furrowed at your anecdote. “I couldn’t tell you exactly what happened, I just know I flew through more trees than I would like, and when I finally got my cables to stick to something I was hanging two inches from the floor and looked like this.”

Levi stayed silent for a moment, trying to picture the situation, as if that helped him in any way. “How did you get on your horse?” 

“Miche found me. I would have only been able to drag myself until I found someone. It’s hard to lift this leg.” His grip on your waist tightened at the notion, his eyes now meeting yours to avoid staring at where he scrubbed on your chest, ever-present frown adorning his features.

Levi saw the images of your explanation vividly in his mind; he could clearly see you dragging yourself out of the woods in fear that you wouldn’t make it, as if it actually happened, as if he had been present. It was completely nauseating. “I’m sorry.” His hands stopped, both settled firmly on your hips, indifferent to his proximity and your bare skin.

“For what?”

“I could’ve been there.” 

One of your hands reached his bicep, tentatively caressing him. “Don’t do that.”

He pursed his lips together; he knew it was ridiculous to upset himself over something he had no control over, and yet he couldn’t stop. He stayed silent, instead opting to watch you get closer, your hands rubbing up and down his arms to ease him. The delicate body he’s grown to yearn for standing less than an inch away from him, laid bare for his eyes only.

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you.” He murmured, tense muscles taut under your touch as it rose up to his shoulders then back down to the front of his chest. 

“I know, but you seem to be more troubled than I am. I may need help getting up, but you’re looking at me like I’m dying.”

“I just don’t know what to do with myself.” Levi let himself get closer, his hands hesitantly moving to your back. “Seeing you like this.”

“I’ve been hurt before.” Your tone was confused, and he hated that it urged him to continue.

“Not like this. Not when I’m not around.”

“I thought you didn’t care if I was not by your side.”

“I lied.”

You couldn’t help the weak laugh that left your lips, looking away from him as you tried to retrieve your composure. 

“Are my worries amusing to you?” His gaze narrowed, not in his usual scowl—in dismay.

You shook your head, a hand coming up to caress his face, looking at him with nothing but utter reverence. “I’m more than appreciative of your worries. But I do find it humorous that I have to come back like this for you to say these things.” 

The time seemed to stand still between you. Patient, as always, you waited; letting him find the words he’s been struggling to muster. He hated how difficult this was; to expose feelings he has been certain of for years. “Sit, we need to wash your hair.”

You sighed, hands dropping from him with a small nod. He helped you sit in the middle of the tub, kneeling down on the floor next to you, holding onto a small water pitcher with trembling hands. 

You closed your eyes at the feeling of water slowly dripping onto your scalp, finally relishing in a soothing feeling. “Don’t look at me when I say this." His voice was low, unusually unsteady, despite being completely certain of his words. "I’m terrified of losing you.”

Your lips pursed together, trying your best to keep yourself from turning your head; wanting to indulge him if it meant being able to hear what he had to confess. “Why?” You asked quietly, eyes stuck to the water falling from your shoulders, bloody and muddy dark streaks slowly disappearing, becoming clearer the more his fingers helped brush water through the thick locks of hair.

Silence lingered for a moment. The only sound being the slow rush of water, and Levi’s deep breaths. He could do this, if there’s someone he could say anything to, it was you. So why did his chest ache this much?

“I’ve belonged to you from the moment I met you.” Levi’s voice came out ragged, broken. His hands softly brushed through your hair, moving back the strands that fell on your face. He cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of control. “And I don’t know what will be of me if the only reason I hold any hope for the future is no longer with me.”

You couldn’t help meeting his gaze, lips parting and closing with suppressed praises. To hear something that gentle, romantic, out of the very lips you’ve wished had graced yours long before today; it could’ve been enough to push you through every day of your life from now on. 

The way you were looking at him was his undoing, a softness he did not deserve, and that he could only ever receive from you. He watched you uneasy, his throat running dry, unsure of what he was even waiting for. “Please say something.”

Words evaded you completely, too stuck on repeating that sweet confession over and over again in your head. Instead of coming up with some clever poetry of your equal feelings, you did the one thing you knew no amount of prodding would make him do. 

Your hands slowly reached for him, cupping his face to bring him closer to you. And you waited, for a moment; not wanting to miss how he relaxed, how he gave in. Only then did your lips meet his with a tenderness that made Levi’s stomach flutter. 

One of his hands went to the back of your neck, long fingers twisting into your hair, keeping your lips flush against his while he inched closer to you. His free hand gripped the back edge of the tub, his body looming above yours, completely trapping you under him. 

The kiss was searing and all consuming. As if you were trying to pour into him every unsaid word; as if Levi was trying to make up for every single moment he wished your lips had been on his. It grew desperate within seconds, teeth clashing and noses bumping while both of you tried to absorb each other’s oxygen.

It’s only when you tried to wrap your arms around his neck to drag him down did you break away, wincing at the sting from a gash on your bicep.

Levi immediately tensed when you stopped. “I’m sorry.” His voice was breathless, a small whisper followed by him pulling back, softened gaze raking over you to make sure he didn’t hurt you. 

“It’s my fault, I should’ve waited until we were laying down.” You quipped, instinctively reaching out for his arm to keep him somewhat close. 

He laughed, openly, warm. “That might’ve ended worse.”

A comfortable silence fell in the room after your chuckles died down. Both of you staring at each other with the sweetness of two madly in love idiots. All flushed lips, red cheeks, and stupid smiles.

—

“And then what happened?” Erwin asked while flipping through pages of planning, the words he had written already mixing together from how long he had been staring at them, and how late it already was.

Miche stood by the window, looking out to the empty grounds below them. “I told him she’d be lying down in the carriage, probably more comfortable.”

“Mhm.”

“And he argued she’d be alone, very solemnly.”

“He did not.” Erwin dropped the papers, turning on his chair to meet Miche’s gaze, the other man already snickering to himself.

“He did, and then he just took her away. And I’m completely certain he kissed her hair when they got on the horse.” Miche whispered the last part, as if he was sharing the most confidential work information he could ever manage to get his hands on.

“In front of everyone?” Erwin stared at him dumbfounded, imagining the scene he described before letting out a quiet laugh.

“If they remain nothing but friends after tonight I fear we might have to send Hange in.”

[sukunaglazerrr]

HusbandKuna x Reader who lost her memory

After a tragic accident erased your memories, you no longer remember the man you married. Unfortunately for you, Ryomen Sukuna remembers everything. And he'll do whatever it takes to make you remember him too.

Everything was so much weird.

When you first opened your eyes, the world was a blur of harsh lights and a rhythmic, annoying beep that made your head throb. A crowd of people were hovering over your bed, their faces twisted into expressions of pure horror and desperation. It felt like they were looking at a ghost or maybe a god that had suddenly fallen from the sky. The moment you blinked and stared back at them with blank, unrecognizing eyes, the room dissolved into quiet, breathless weeping.

You were completely utterly lost. Who was the woman with the dark circles under her eyes calling herself Shoko? Why was she gripping your hand like her entire world was ending? You knew your own name y/n echoed clearly in the empty caverns of your mind, but beyond that single fact, there was only a vast, terrifying void. You understood the modern world. you knew what a smartphone was, you recognized the concept of Wi-Fi, and when you mumbled those details, the doctors in the room let out collective, gasping sighs of relief.

But the real shock came twenty minutes later.

The heavy door to the hospital room burst open with a violent slam. A man lunged inside like a madman, his chest heaving as he fought for breath. You had never seen anyone look like him. His hair was a soft, striking shade of pastel pink so pretty and unexpected that you wondered for a fleeting second if he had dyed it just to stand out. Dark, intricate tattoos mapped across his skin, curling around his sharp cheekbones and framing his eyes. And those eyes... they were a piercing, burning red, swirling with a volatile mixture of terrifying rage and profound, shattering sadness.

You just sat there in your oversized, faded blue hospital gown, looking small and fragile as your confused gaze met his. The man froze, roughly brushing a strand of pink hair out of his face. His clothes were covered in a layer of grey dust and dried grit, looking as though he had sprinted straight off a construction site the second he got the news.

"Fucking... God. Hey, princess... fuck, don't you ever scare me like that again" he breathed, his deep, gravelly voice cracking as he took two massive strides toward your bedside, staring down at you with a desperation that made the air feel heavy.

You shrank back into the pillows, your brow furrowing. Princess? Were you in some bizarre historical simulation? Did kings and horses still exist? No, the blinking medical monitors around you disproved that immediately.

"Mr. Sukuna, please. I need to speak with you in private for a moment," a woman in her mid-forties interrupted, her expression incredibly grave as she stepped between you and the giant. She glanced at the other people lingering by the door. There was a teenage boy, maybe sixteen, who possessed the exact same pink hair as the tattooed man, his face streaked with tears. Beside him stood another boy with unruly, spiky black hair and a dull, stoic expression that couldn't quite hide the anxiety in his eyes. At the doctor's quiet command, they all slowly filed out into the hallway.

Left alone for a moment, you stared at the stark white walls, the untouched glass of water on the bedside table, and the crushing, dull monotony of the room.

When the door clicked open again, the female physician returned, holding a thick medical chart. The tattooed man followed closely behind her. He tried to offer you a small, reassuring smile, but it looked incredibly strained on his rugged face. His crimson eyes locked onto you, tracking every breath you took as if you might literally vanish into thin air if he dared to look away for a single second.

"Hello, Y/N. I am Dr. Jennifer," the woman said kindly, stepping up to the mattress. "Do you know why you were brought here today?"

You frowned, looking between her and the towering man. "No."

The syllable was short and hollow. Beside the doctor, Sukuna’s entire frame stiffened. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered violently beneath his tattoos, his knuckles turning white as he balled his hands into fists.

"Right. But you do remember your name?" she pressed gently.

"Yes... Y/N. I am Y/N," you answered firmly. You knew the name belonged to you, even if the history attached to it was completely gone.

"And do you know where you are right now?"

"A hospital?"

"Correct" Dr. Jennifer nodded, opening the document in her hands. "Look, I am going to explain exactly what happened, and I need you to listen very carefully, alright?" You gave a small, hesitant nod. "You were in a severe accident yesterday evening. You were walking home from the local market when a car veered off the road and hit you. It is a miracle you walked away with minor physical injuries, but the trauma to your head has caused a severe case of retrograde amnesia. Honestly, it's a surprise you even remember your name right now."

You let out a quiet hum, your eyes drifting down to your own hands resting on the thin blanket. That was when you noticed it a slender, platinum band set with a brilliant, flawlessly cut diamond resting securely on your left ring finger. It looked incredibly expensive, classy, and entirely foreign

.

"Y/N" Dr. Jennifer’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You snapped your head up to look at her. "This man standing beside me... he is your husband."

The doctor tilted her head toward the giant. He was massive easily over six feet of raw, intimidating muscle, his tattooed face giving him a terrifying, dangerous aura. Your very first instinctual thought was that this man looked incredibly scary.

Sukuna didn't say a word. He just stood there, letting you analyze him, before he offered you a tiny, incredibly vulnerable nod. You tilted your head, staring into his intense red eyes, desperately searching for a single spark of familiarity. Did I really marry this giant?

"His name is Ryomen Sukuna, and he is going to take care of you," the doctor continued, closing her chart. "For the next few weeks, you need to let your brain rest, but you also need to gently stimulate it to try and regain those lost memories. Spending time in a familiar environment, in your own home with your husband, is going to be the best medicine for you."

You nodded mutely. You didn't exactly have a choice. You were being handed over to a complete stranger who happened to hold a legal claim to your entire life.

"Alright then. I wish you a safe and speedy recovery" Dr. Jennifer said with a final, empathetic smile before slipping out of the room.

The heavy silence that followed was suffocating. Sukuna cleared his throat roughly, taking a few agonizingly slow, tentative steps toward the edge of your bed. He moved with an immense amount of caution, as if he genuinely believed a sudden movement might break you into pieces. He pulled up the small plastic chair, sinking into it.

"Hey" he said softly. Even in a whisper, his voice was incredibly manly, deep, and rough.

"Hello," you replied shortly, your eyes tracking his hands.

To your surprise, his large, scarred fingers were trembling slightly as he fidgeted with them, refusing to meet your eyes. When he finally looked up, you realized the piercing red of his irises was completely glossy, swimming with unshed tears.

"Yo... you're getting discharged today" he choked out, taking a deep, ragged breath as if the mere act of speaking was causing him physical pain. "I'm going to go sign the paperwork, and then I'm taking you to... our house. I'm going to do whatever the fuck it takes to help you remember, princess."

You stared at his rugged, tattooed face for a long moment before letting out a soft, distant hum.

An hour later, you were sitting in the passenger seat of a sleek, black Jeep, The man Sukuna kept his left hand firmly on the steering wheel while his eyes flicked toward you every sixty seconds, his intense gaze making a nervous flutter erupt in your stomach.

You stared out the window, watching the city buildings, sprawling neighborhoods, and vibrant green trees blur past. Intrigued by the warm breeze, you raised your hand, pressing your palm gently against the glass as if you wanted to touch the passing leaves. Instantly, the window smoothly rolled down. Startled, you turned your head to find Sukuna adjusting the master controls, his eyes locked onto you with an unreadable warmth.

"Can I ask you something?" you murmured softly.

"Yes." The answer came incredibly fast, almost desperate. He was hanging on your every word, practically begging for you to speak to him.

"How... how did we meet?" you asked, leaning your elbow on the door frame as the wind whipped through your hair.

"We met in high school," he answered quickly, navigating a sharp turn onto a quiet, "We've been married for seven years."

"High school?" You tilted your head, a faint smile touching your lips as you extended your hand just slightly out into the rushing air. "Were we friends back then?"

"Careful" he commanded firmly, though there was no real heat in his voice. You obediently pulled your hand back inside. A faint, nostalgic softness crept into his red eyes as he looked ahead. "Friends? no. You could say we didn't liked eachother each other when we first met. You thought I was a loud, arrogant delinquent, and I thought you were a stubborn, bossy brat."

He smoothly pulled the Jeep into a long brick driveway, coming to a stop in front of a breathtaking, modern two-story house. It was painted a crisp, elegant white with sleek charcoal-grey accents, boasting massive, floor-to-ceiling windows that caught the afternoon sun.

"This is... our house," Sukuna murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "We've been living here for about four years."

He killed the engine, threw his door open, and practically sprinted around the hood of the car to open your door before you could even reach for the handle. He extended a massive, tattooed hand toward you, his palm open and waiting. You stared at his hand, your eyes traveling up the thick muscles of his forearm, before you deliberately stepped down onto the driveway without taking it.

Sukuna’s hand froze in mid-air. You watched his fingers slowly curl back into a fist before he pulled his arm away, a flash of pure, agonizing heartbreak crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a stoic expression.

As your feet hit the pavement, you looked up at the towering structure, desperately begging your brain to spark even a single ounce of familiarity. Nothing came. But as you turned around, you caught a glimpse of the man standing beside you. He was on the absolute verge of tears. His chest was tight, his jaw locked as he stared at you. You were his entire world, his beautiful wife, and yet you were looking at him like he was a total stranger. He suddenly felt a wave of profound hatred for every single time he had ever been mean or stubborn with you in the past, even in jest. He just wanted his girl back.

"The house is beautiful" you murmured gently, walking toward the porch.

*The house.* Not *our* house. The detached wording made Sukuna’s jaw clench painfully.

"Of course it is. I built the damn thing

" he muttered, following closely behind you.

It was your exact dream house. Years ago, back when you were just broke college students dating in a cramped apartment, you had traced a clumsy design on a napkin, telling him you wanted a modern white house with endless windows, three bedrooms, and a kitchen large enough for the two of you to bake and slow-dance together while listening to old jazz records. Sukuna had kept that napkin. The moment he made his fortune, he hired a crew but did the vast majority of the heavy structural work with his own two hands. He had gifted you the keys on your third wedding anniversary, and he could still vividly remember the way you had wept tears of joy, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him until you were both breathless. He wanted that smile back. He would give anything just to have you look at him the way you used to.

You stepped inside, ignoring the heavy emotion rolling off him. Sukuna quickly gathered your small hospital bags and followed you into the foyer, shutting the door behind him.

Your eyes immediately gravitated toward the kitchen. It was vast, open, and undeniably stunning, featuring a massive quartz island and a huge sliding glass door that opened directly into a manicured backyard garden. The entire layout felt strangely perfect.

"Let me show you... around" Sukuna offered quietly.

He spent the next half hour guiding you through the corridors of what was supposed to be your life. But as he showed you the grand master bedroompointing out the side of the bed where you used to curl into his chest every single night your face remained entirely blank. You felt a twinge of heavy guilt pooling in your stomach. He showed you the living room, drawing your attention to a collection of large, breathtaking canvas paintings hanging on the walls.

"You painted those," Sukuna noted, a faint trace of pride in his rough voice. "You're a brilliant artist, princess."

You blinked in genuine surprise, looking down at your hands. "I drew these?"

"Yeah." Sukuna stopped at the edge of the hallway, looking down at you with completely bloodshot eyes. He hadn't slept a single second since the hospital called him about your accident. All he wanted to do was wrap his massive arms around your waist, pull you flush against his chest, and bury his face in your hair until the nightmare ended. But he couldn't. "Look... you can sleep in the guest bedroom down the hall, or you can take our bedroom and I'll stay in the guest room. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable you."

"Okay" you hummed softly.

His heart broke a little more at the compliant, distant tone. "I'll go start on some dinner, and then I'll get your medication ready. If you need a single damn thing, you just call out for me, alright? Your clothes are all in the dresser undergarments in the top drawer, pajamas in the second..."

You nodded, offering him a polite murmur of thanks before retreating into the guest room. You changed into a simple, comfortable t-shirt and sweats. A little while later, his deep voice echoed up the stairs, announcing that dinner was ready. You walked down to the dining room, sitting at the large table like a polite houseguest waiting to be served.

"Do you need help?" Sukuna asked, carefully sliding a steaming bowl of homemade chicken soup and a large spoon toward you. You shook your head, grasping the utensil and taking a quiet sip. He sat across from you, his own bowl entirely untouched as he just stared at your face. "Y/N... you really don't remember a single damn thing about me?"

His voice cracked completely on the last word, the raw vulnerability of a ruthless man exposed right in front of you. You looked up, meeting his glossy red eyes.

"No... I don't. I'm really sorry," you whispered genuinely.

He let out a slow nod, swallowing the lump in his throat as he forced himself to look away. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault."

"Do I... do I have parents? Or friends?" you asked, a sudden curiosity about your own forgotten life bubbling up.

"Yeah. You have parents. Your father—"

"Where are they?" you interrupted quickly, leaning forward. "Do they know I was in an accident? Why aren't they here?"

"They haven't spoken to you in over seven years. Not since the day you married me," Sukuna said, his tone dropping into something cold and bitter.

"Why?"

"Your family is old money. Extremely strict, arrogant aristocrats" Sukuna explained, his red eyes locking back onto yours. "They completely forbade you from seeing me because I was just a rough, tattooed bastard from the wrong side of the tracks with a criminal record and a unstable future. They told you that if you walked out that door with me, you’d be cut off permanently."

You stared at him, a sudden spark of heat flaring in your chest. "Well, that's incredibly stupid of them. It sounds like a good thing we don't talk to them then."

The sheer, unyielding loyalty in your voice made Sukuna’s lips twitch, a genuine, heartbreaking smile threatening to break through his stoic mask. Even with a wiped memory, his sweet wife still possessed that exact same fiery, protective spirit.

"Yeah" he chuckled hoarsely, letting out a long sigh. "You have an incredible best friend named Shoko. You two are both doctors; you work in the exact same surgical unit at the city hospital. We have a ton of mutual friends we met back in our high school days. And those kids at the hospital? The pink-haired teenager is my nephew, Yuji, and the dark-haired one is Megumi, our friend's kid. They practically worship the ground you walk on, princess. You love those brats to death."

"Can I see them?" you asked, a genuine smile finally breaking across your face.

"Of course. Whenever you want," he promised, his eyes tracking the way your lips curved.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"I'm thirty-two. You're thirty," Sukuna answered smoothly.

"Wow. So we're getting old," you teased gently.

Sukuna let out a sudden, rough snort, a wicked glint flashing in his eyes. "Old or not, woman... you're still completely breathtaking."

A deep, violent blush instantly stained your cheeks. You hadn't been around an attractive man or any man, for that matter in your conscious memory, and having this giant, dangerously handsome individual throw such a raw compliment at you made your heart do a chaotic somersault. You quickly looked down at your soup, missing the way his eyes softened at your reaction.

Over the next three weeks, the fragments of a life began to surround you, even if the puzzle pieces wouldn't quite lock into place.

Yuji and Megumi came over to the house constantly. Yuji spent hours enthusiastically teaching you how to make his signature protein shakes and weird jello molds, his loud laughter filling the quiet house, while Megumi sat nearby with his usual serious expression. But the moment you offered Megumi a soft, encouraging smile, his sharp features would instantly melt into something deeply tender. Yet, beneath their smiles, you could see the underlying sadness in their eyes every time you failed to remember a shared inside joke.

When Shoko finally visited, she broke down completely, throwing her arms around your neck and sobbing into your shoulder. It was a bizarre, overwhelming feeling being fiercely loved by people you couldn't even remember—and a heavy weight of guilt began to settle deep in your chest. You even met Toji, Megumi's father, a tall, stoic man who didn't say much but looked at you with a quiet, profound pity that made you realize just how broken your situation truly was.

And then, there was Sukuna.

Your husband spent every single day patiently guiding you through your routines, driving you past your old university, cooking your favorite meals, and trying every gentle trigger possible. But your mind remained a stubborn, locked vault. Sukuna was growing desperate furious and completely fucked up by the stagnation.

To make matters worse, just one week before the accident, you had playfully taken down every single one of your framed marriage photographs to rearrange the living room gallery wall, hiding them away in a "genius spot" that Sukuna had completely forgotten. He had spent hours frantically tearing the house apart while you were out, searching for a single modern photo of the two of you together.

He was completely unraveling. He couldn't sleep. The woman he loved was sleeping in the room next to him, yet she looked at him with the polite, distant eyes of a stranger. He felt like a ghost haunting his own home. One evening, he sat alone in the dark kitchen and wept the third time he had ever cried in his entire life. The first had been tears of pure joy on your wedding day. the second had been out of terror when the ER doctor told him a car had struck you. and now, he was crying simply because he missed his wife so damn much

His phone offered no help either. his gallery was filled entirely with candid photos he had taken of you you stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your head, you laughing in a department store dressing room, or a hilarious picture of you biting into a raw lemon and making a completely hideous face. He had no photos of the two of you together on his device; you had always been the one insisted on keeping the physical, printed albums. The only joint photos he could find were a few faded, wrinkled prints from your high school days, showing a younger, wilder version of himself wrapping his arms around you from behind while you laughed into the camera. When he showed them to you, you just stared at them blankly. It was killing him.

At the end of the third week, Sukuna was sitting heavily on the living room sofa, completely exhausted after another failed search through the house. He was mindlessly scrolling through the candid photos of you on his phone, a faint, melancholy smile touching his lips.

The heavy front door clicked open. Shoko had taken you out for an afternoon of shopping to get you out of the house, and she had just dropped you off at the curb. You stepped into the foyer, balancing several shopping bags in your arms.

Sukuna instantly locked his phone, shoving it into his pocket as he stood up, his red eyes drinking in the sight of you. "Had fun, princess?"

"Yes, I did. And thank you... for letting me use your credit card" you said softly, walking over to the coffee table and gently sliding the black card back toward him.

"You bought dresses?" he asked, pointing toward the bags. Honestly, he didn't give a single fuck about the money. you could have emptied his entire bank account and he would have gladly signed it away just to see you happy.

"I bought a few things..." You cleared your throat nervously, your fingers twisting together. "But... I actually bought something for you, too."

The words hit his chest like a physical blow. Even with her mind completely wiped, your beautiful, kind soul was still looking out for him. "Really?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Can I see it?"

You gave a small nod, walking over to the couch and tentatively sitting down right next to him. The close proximity made his heart start to hammer against his ribs like a trapped bird.

"I don't know if it's really your style, or if you'll even like it..." you mumbled bashfully, reaching into a small velvet pouch and pulling out a heavy, intricately braided silver bracelet studded with raw, brilliant red stones. "The color... it just immediately reminded me of you. Of your eyes."

You gently reached out, grasping his massive, calloused wrist to drape the metal over his skin. Oh God, if you only knew how fast his heart was racing beneath his chest. Your soft, warm fingers lingering against his pulse point was pure, exquisite torture.

"It looks incredible, Y/N. Thank you," he whispered, a genuine, breathtakingly soft smile spreading across his tattooed face as he looked down at the crimson stones.

"Thank you... for being so incredibly patient with me" you said quietly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Sukuna let out a long, ragged sigh, his hand hovering over yours for a fraction of a second before he pulled back. "I will always be patient with you, princess. Always."

You looked directly into his burning red eyes, and for the first time in three weeks, a warm, genuine smile broke across your face. Sukuna felt his breath hitch. he was entirely certain he was about to pass out from the sheer weight of his love for you.

"Can you stay right here for a bit? I need to go jump in the shower real quick. I'll be fast," he muttered hoarsely, his hand instinctively reaching out to gently ruffle your hair a comforting, domestic habit he had carefully maintained. You let out a soft chuckle at the gesture.

The moment his heavy footsteps disappeared up the stairs and the sound of running water echoed through the pipes, you stood up, wandering aimlessly around the quiet main floor. Your feet pulled you toward the small, cozy library nestled just off the living room. The walls were lined with hundreds of books some ancient leather volumes, others modern art textbooks. You pulled one off the shelf, flipping through the pages before sliding it back into place.

As you stepped back, your eyes caught a glimpse of something hidden on the absolute highest shelf, shoved far back into the shadows near the ceiling. It looked like a massive, heavy frame leaning flat against the back wall, obscured by a decorative ceramic vase. Intrigued, you stood on your tiptoes, stretching your arms up as high as they could go, blindly reaching for the top edge of the wooden frame.

Your fingers caught the molding, but as you pulled, the heavy ceramic vase shifted, losing its balance.

Crash!

The vase shattered against the hardwood floor with a deafening, echoing smash. Startled, you let out a sharp cry, stumbling backward as the massive hidden frame came tumbling down from the top shelf, striking the edge of the desk before landing flat on the rug. The backing of the frame split completely open upon impact, and a massive cascade of loose, glossy photographs erupted across the floor hundreds of them, scattering like playing cards across the room.

You gasped, placing a hand over your racing heart as you looked away from the broken pottery, your eyes drifting down to the sea of images covering the floor.

You froze.

Right at your feet lay a massive, professionally printed portrait. In the photograph, you were sitting securely on Sukuna's lap. You were wearing a breathtaking, flowing white lace wedding dress, holding a vibrant bouquet of sunflowers, and laughing so brightly your eyes were crinkled shut. Sukuna was clad in a sharp, tailored black tuxedo, his massive arms wrapped fiercely around your waist from behind, an absolutely massive, unbothered, triumphant grin plastered across his face.

Your breath hitched violently. You stumbled forward, falling to your knees as your hands frantically snatched up another photo from the pile. In this one, you were hoisted high up on Sukuna's broad shoulders at a crowded, flashing outdoor music festival; your mouth was wide open in a breathless scream of laughter, while his large hands were clamped firmly around your thighs to keep you safe, both of your faces painted with pure, unadulterated euphoria.

You grabbed a third photo, and the entire world stopped spinning. It was a quiet, intimate shot taken right in the backyard garden outside. You were sitting cross-legged on the green grass, wearing a simple summer dress with a soft, shy smile, while Sukuna’s heavy head was resting completely in your lap. He was looking up at you with an expression of such pure, unconditional adoration it made your soul ache, while your fingers were woven gently through his soft pink hair.

Pink hair.

The backyard.

The jazz music.

The napkin.

A sudden, violent explosion of memories ripped through the barriers of your mind. It wasn't a trickle; it was a catastrophic, roaring tidal wave. Seven years of laughter, fierce arguments, passionate late-night apologies, the smell of his skin, the exact weight of his body pressing you into the master mattress, the sound of his deep voice whispering "I've got you, princess" into the dark. It all hit your brain at once with the force of a freight train.

The sheer, overwhelming velocity of the memories made the room spin violently. Your vision blurred into a vortex of white light and crimson eyes. You let out a choked gasp, your strength entirely giving out as your body collapsed sideways onto the hardwood floor with a loud, heavy thud, the scattered photographs of your life pooling around your unconscious form.

When you finally opened your eyes again, the harsh glare of the ceiling lights was gone, replaced by the warm, dim ambiance of the living room. You were laying flat on the soft fabric of the sofa.

"She's waking up! Sukuna, look, her eyes are moving!" Yuji’s panicked, loud voice cut through the quiet room.

You blinked heavily, your vision slowly focusing. Megumi was standing right beside his cousin, his dark eyes wide and completely swimming with anxiety. Shoko was hovering over you, a small medical flashlight in her hand, her face pale as she checked your vitals.

But your heart didn't care about any of them. Your eyes frantically scanned the tight circle of people, instantly landing on the massive, tattooed man standing frozen at the foot of the couch. His pastel pink hair was damp from the shower, his chest heaving under a plain black t-shirt, and his face was a mask of pure, absolute terror.

As your eyes met his, a single, heavy tear spilled over your eyelid, tracing a hot path down your cheek. The vast, terrifying void in your mind was completely gone, replaced by the roaring, beautiful fire of your reality.

"Ryo..." you choked out, your voice a broken, breathless sob.

Sukuna froze, his entire frame visibly violently shuddering at the sound of the nickname the private, intimate name only you were ever allowed to call him.

Before anyone else could even blink, you threw yourself forward off the sofa cushions, completely ignoring the dull ache in your muscles. You lunged straight into his space, your arms wrapping fiercely around his massive neck. You buried your face in the crook of his collarbone, gripping the fabric of his shirt with a desperate, white-knuckled intensity as you pressed a hard, crying kiss directly against his tattooed jaw.

"I remember... us," you sobbed violently into his skin, your entire body trembling as the tears flowed freely. "I remember everything, Ryo... I remember you."

Sukuna’s mind completely blanked. For a single, breathless second, he couldn't even process the words. And then, a raw, ragged sound escaped his throat a mixture of a sob and a laugh. His massive, powerful arms came crashing down around your frame, pulling you so close against his chest you could barely breathe, lifting your knees entirely off the floor as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

And there, in the middle of his living room, surrounded by his family and the scattered photographs of your love, Ryomen Sukuna closed his eyes and wept for the fourth time in his life.

"I fucking love you" he whispers

(not me me writing all night just for 36 like and one reblog😣🙏🏾)

[weirdergirlbrina]

Iwaizumi’s nose is bleeding, his hands bruising an angry shade of red.

He doesn’t remember what happened, not really at least.

One second, the bar was loud and lively, overcrowded and sticky with spilled drinks.

The next, he’d heard an all too aggressive, “You don’t have to be such a bitch.”

The rest is a blur.

He vaguely remembers Makki yanking him off some poor bloody heap on the floor.

Oikawa shouting something that sounded both panicked and furious as he dragged him toward the exit.

Matsukawa laughing in that disbelieving, holy shit, kind of way while ushering you out of the room before you could see the worst of it.

And before his brain can really catch up, the feeling of the brisk night air hitting his face hard enough to make him realize his nose was bleeding.

Now you’re all halfway down the block, the neon lights and lively noise of the bar fading far behind you.

Everyone’s breathing hard from the sudden get away, adrenaline still buzzing thick in the air.

But all Iwa can focus on is the sting in knuckles and the terrified look on your face.

“Are you okay?” you ask immediately, voice a little shaky and a whole lot worried.

He’s weirdly calm right now, too calm. Like all the anger fizzled out the second the cold air hit his face.

All he feels now is the heaviness settled deep in his chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he suddenly blurts, shame quickly creeping in.

You stare at him like he’s lost his goddamn mind.

Behind him, Makki lets out a confused, “Huh?” while Matsukawa starts cackling again.

Even Oikawa pauses mid-rant, eyes squinting hard.

“What the hell you mean you’re sorry?” you spit out incredulously.

He swallows hard, unable to meet your eyes for a second, “That was stupid,” he mutters, flexing his aching hand with a wince, “I shouldn’t have embarrassed you like that”

For a moment, nobody says anything.

Then Matsukawa snorts, loud and obnoxious, “Dude.”

You roll your eyes, gently grabbing his battered hands and inspecting the damage, “Shut the hell up, you didn’t embarrass me you idiot”, you mutter, ears burning now.

“Well I, for one,” Oikawa says dramatically, throwing an arm around Iwa’s shoulders, “am pissed we had to leave, so you’re buying a bottle and we’re going back to yours”

Makki snickers, elbowing the drama queen in the ribs, “Iwa just beat the shit out of some guy for his girl and that’s what you’re worried about?”

And if your face was pink before, it’s burning now.

Heat crawls all the way up your neck as the words replay in your head on loop.

His girl.

And maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the fact that he didn’t even deny it, but your stomach flips hard.

When you finally glance at him, you find that he’s already staring at you, cheeks pink too.

You huff out a quiet little laugh before reaching up and pulling his face down just enough to press a soft kiss to his cheek, “Thank you for protecting me, my hero” you tease.

His entire face burns red instantly, and suddenly the sting of his knuckles is the last thing on his mind.

“Shut up” he mutters, despite the little smile pulling at his lips.

“Okay!”, Oikawa announces loudly, clapping his hands together, “Konbini time. We need a first aid kit and a case of soju.”

Still laughing and shoving at Iwa while he grumbles for everyone to shut up, the five of you start down the street toward the convenience store, the tension from earlier replace with something warm and easy.

———————————————————————-

A/N: i’m done writing for iwa now (im lying)

[cashmakozume]

fuck my life my twilight sparkle has a fat crush on daichi what the HELL 😭

[mahalsuya]

this has me lmao in bio bruh

[aransmind]

skater boys

[dailyhatsune]

Untitled Miku Game

it’s the bastard

[sixxels-deactivated20260420-dea]

asshole!sukuna and his soft spot for shy!girlfriend!reader ༊*·˚ (18+)

asshole!sukuna doesn’t fuck with a lot of people. i mean, when you’re a 6’5, 90 kg guy with bold tattoos littering your entire body, you’re not really trying to attract sociable people. still, the borderline loner had a few exceptions, his frat brothers, a select few professors, and you. 

you were the main exception. 

asshole!sukuna met you one day at a fundraising event his frat was hosting, a dollar for a slap. girls would line up in front of a long table and choose a guy to hit, then pay a small donation that went towards the rspca. you and your friends were keen to donate, put some of the guys who’d fucked with their feelings in their place, or however they’d phrased it. you were mostly there for the experience, not too in tune with the whole frat fuckboy lore your friends loved to gossip about. 

when you arrived, you started to feel really bad. all these guys’ cheeks were raw and red, and despite their cocky smiles, it just couldn’t be all that fun. when it came to your turn, you had to choose a guy, and your eyes drifted to asshole!sukuna. he was the biggest there, had only a slightly red cheek, and looked like he could take a hit. 

asshole!sukuna forced a smile when he saw you walk up to him, your head lowered as you shyly handed over a fiver. he accepted with a, “thanks, sweetheart. go ahead.” he leaned down to your level, bracing for impact, but all he felt was a light pat on his stinging cheek. 

“the fuck?” 

“oh, i’m sorry! i tried to go soft, i—” 

“you call that a slap? what, think i can’t handle it?” he scoffs. “slap me again, hun, harder. don’t waste your money.” he leans down again, looking you in the eye to challenge you. 

but again, all that comes is a light tap. 

“oh, for god— it’s a dollar for a slap, not a dollar for a fuckin’ cheek massage.” he huffs, looking over your expression with an irritated scowl, only to catch that hesitant little frown on your face. 

asshole!sukuna can’t help but crack a smile. he’d had about ten girls come and slap the fuck outta him today. they were all old flings desperate to get their get-back, but that was hardly the point. you were this new thing entirely, a soft thing that seemed sweet regardless of if he was notorious for being a cunt or not. 

“what’s y’ name, sweetheart?” 

asshole!sukuna decided he wanted to see you again after that. you’d caught his interest, which doesn’t happen often. he asks for your number. your instagram, your snapchat, everything. it was kinda pathetic how eager he was to get to know you, but you handed them all over anyway. your friends warn you after the fact that he’s definitely not good news, but you can’t help but want to see where this goes after only dating squares for most of your life. 

asshole!sukuna takes you on a date the very next day, and you were pleasantly surprised at how chivalrous he was. he pulled out your chair at the small hole-in-the-wall restaurant he took you to, he paid for everything, and even more surprisingly, made you feel comfortable. you talked for hours about everything and anything. 

you learned that asshole!sukuna had a lot of hobbies. he played guitar, drums, did a fair few building sketches in the art room with his friend geto when he had time, and had a real connection to film. all of which were things you found extremely attractive, and he could tell, because the next time you two went out he took you to his dorm and showed you his musical endeavors. 

“you’re like... super talented, it’s really attractive.” you smile gently, sitting at the foot of his bed, watching as he finishes up a love song he’d been learning for you. 

“yeah, y’ think so? gonna come to all my gigs when i’m a famous musician?” 

“will i get a backstage pass?” 

“oh, absolutely.” 

asshole!sukuna had officially swooned you after about five dates. he'd mustered up the courage to ask you to be his at that same restaurant he’d taken you to on that first date, and the rest was history. you and sukuna, the couple everyone of his mates envied due to how perfectly you two fit together. 

“how the hell did a guy like you bag a girl like her. yr' gonna destroy the poor thing.” geto teased while they were smoking up one night. 

asshole!sukuna could only reply with, “god, don’t you just hate jealous, hating ass motherfuckers?” 

asshole!sukuna loved to not so subtly brag about you to literally anyone he talked to. (which wasn’t many, but still.) 

“eugh, you’re buying lunch? my girlfriend made me food today, fucking loser.” he’d laugh at the dining hall when gojo and geto sat next to him with a greasy burger and fries. they just gave each other a look, smiled, and rolled their eyes. 

“hm? nah, can’t tonight. me and my girl are getting hot pot. have fun drinking your problems, tho.” he’d turn toji down, turning his nose up at the idea of bar hopping like he wasn’t the most frequent man along the strip a few months back. 

“a two man? i’m not bringing my girl around your little one and done situation, don’t ask me that shit again.” he’d laugh in jogo’s face, hating the idea of his precious baby being around a sleaze bag like him. 

asshole!sukuna always puts you first. his frat’s planning something big, another fundraising night where they really care about attendance, and he’s meant to be there early to help set up. but out of the blue, you’ll send him a text just to say that you've had a slightly shitty day, and boom, he’s suddenly nowhere to be found. his phone’s off, car’s out of the driveway, and he’s at your door with your favorite food and that pissed look, how dare the world have the nerve to bother you. 

asshole!sukuna likes to keep you very close to him when you’re out and about, with either an arm at your waist or his fingers intertwined with yours, he’s most comfortable when you’re right there where he can see you. that way, if anything were to happen, you’d be there for him to protect.

asshole!sukuna lets you get away with absolutely everything. 

“ryo, can i draw on you? like, draw on your back while we watch a show or something?” 

“sure, baby.” 

“ryooo, can i braid your hair?” 

“of course, love.” 

“hey, ryomen? could you drive me to my friend’s house? she lives on the other side of town, though.. it’s okay if you don’t want—” 

“no, no. let’s go, sweetness.” 

“ryo, you smell.” 

“shower with me then, baby.” 

with anyone else, asshole!sukuna would have either yelled or broken their jaw for even thinking they could ask him such questions. but with you? the princess gets what the princess wants or whatever the saying he made up in his head was.

asshole!sukuna fucking hates when people talk over you. it’s a common occurrence due to your soft-spoken nature, you’ll be in the middle of saying something, and someone’ll cut in with whatever thing they think is funnier or more worth listening to. sukuna never lets it slide. “she was talking, dickhead.” he’d scoff, shutting them up and earning a shy, thankful smile from you, as you continued with what you were saying, far more important than whatever that clown had to yap on about anyways. (in sukuna’s mind, at least.) 

asshole!sukuna spends a shit ton of money on you. you almost always go against the idea, but he just can’t help it... when he sees your eyes light up when you see something you like at the mall, he physically can’t resist. he’ll bookmark the product, then order it online to come to your apartment the next day. 

“ryo... why do i have another package?” you whine over the phone, earning nothing but a chuckle from the other end. 

“could tell you wanted it, so just enjoy it, sweet thing. you deserve all the fruits of my labour.” 

“you don’t work? isn’t it your parents’ mon—” 

“semantics. just enjoy, baby.” and he hangs up the phone, grabbing his keys to drive to your place and see how you like the new gift. he thinks it was a new dress? couldn’t be sure, it was hard keeping up with the millions of notifications from the post office. 

asshole!sukuna remembers everything about his girl and makes sure you’re always getting exactly what you want. if he’s out getting dinner before driving to your place, he’ll stop at five different places if that meant getting your order perfectly correct. local maccas has a broken ice cream machine? he’s driving to the next location to try his luck there. one place doesn’t have the kind of noodles you like? he’s making his way to the closest chinese place to see if they do. he is the embodiment of “if he wanted to, he would,” and it’s all worth it seeing your face light up when he holds up the paper bag with a smile. 

“your favourite.” 

“oh my god? this is the place out of the city? how did you—” 

“don’t worry about it, angel.” 

and that was another thing, ashole!sukuna  didn’t let you worry about anything. your place felt too messy? he was over there turning on mlp equestria girls and helping you clean. you wanted a home cooked meal? he’s at the store buying the ingredients. you needed help with an assignment? he’s pushed back his own work to sit down and help you smash them out. 

asshole!sukuna is so overly territorial when it comes to functions. he doesn’t know, there’s just something about people drunk and horny all around you that ticks him off. he’ll always have you either sat next to or on his lap at frat parties. you stick to him regardless, but he has to make it obvious to all the fuckwits blatantly staring at you that you are indeed, his. 

if they don’t get the hint the first time and are still gawking after his mild pda, asshole!sukuna would up the ante. he’ll take you off to some hallway or, if the guys are being particularly sleazy, he’ll kiss you right there. his lips trailling up and down your neck while he stares them dead in the eye, challenging them to look away. 

“ryo... people are looking!” you whisper nervously. 

“let them, sweetheart. you’re too pretty not to stare at.” he grins against your neck, sucking and biting at your soft skin. 

by that point, they always look off. whether that be due to his death glare or the realisation that you’re not going anywhere anytime soon was beside the point. 

asshole!sukuna gets embarrassingly hard at the smallest little things with you. you’ll just be sitting on the couch together and you’ll start scratching his back or head, boom, hard. when you’re sitting next to him in the library and you’re biting your pen, boom, hard. even when you’re just laying in bed, tired from the day, he’ll lay next to you and just sigh. 

“how the fuck do you just look like that. you make it so hard to keep my shit to myself.” he groans as his arms snake around your waist. 

“jeez, i can feel that thing poking into my back... what did i do now?” you smile sleepily. 

“i wish i knew. seems like one look at you and i pop a boner.” he admits, a little embarrassed. 

“can i help you out?” 

asshole!sukuna loved how willing you were to service him, but preferred it the opposite way round. sukuna would spend hours between your pretty thighs if he could, sloppily kissing and sucking at your cunt with dazed eyes, loving nothing more than the pretty moans and groans he could pull from your throat. 

“fuck yeah, y’ like that, baby? you like my tongue, hm?” he’d tease with his mouth full, pumping two fingers in and out of your soaked pussy as he dragged you closer and closer to your orgasm. 

asshole!sukuna knew how wet his filthy words could get you, and he abused that knowledge each and every time he needed you prepped and ready for him. 

“y’ think you can take me, baby, yeah? think you can take this fat cock?” he’d taunt, slapping the thick head against your cunt as your slick coated the pink, glossy skin. “fuckkkk, pretty pussy’s beggin’ t’ get drilled.” 

“what’s that? you need me? well, isn’t that fuckin’ cute. beg a little more and maybe i’ll give you what you want.” 

“be a good girl n’ say please and it’s all yours, angel.” 

asshole!sukuna was massive, but you always took him so well. “you can do it, baby. i know you can.” he’d coo in your ear, lining up the monster of a thing. 

“one, two, fuckkk.” 

asshole!sukuna saw stars every time he’d push in, letting go of a long, pornographic moan as he began to thrust slowly in and out of your tight entrance. the look on your face as your eyes rolled back in pleasure made coming in less than a minute extremely hard, but the intense need to make you finish first overrode any sort of selfish desire to fill you up to the brim in the first few minutes. 

asshole!sukuna loved missionary the most because he could see your pretty face. he enjoyed a bunch of freaked-out positions, but nothing could beat watching your pupils dilate and your lips quiver the second you finally came, his name on your tongue as you let go of the tension building in your tummy. 

“y’ gonna come, baby? y’ gonna come on this cock?” he’d grunt, slamming his member deeper and deeper the louder your cries got, faster and faster until— “fuck, ryo! m’ cumming!” you’d stutter, your insides spasming on his cock, drawing out his own orgasm with one final pound, filling you up with hot ropes of his seed. 

asshole!sukuna was the king of aftercare. words that were filthy before, now soft and caring. 

“you okay, baby? did i go too hard on ya?” he’d ask through tired pants, standing to grab the wet wipes in the side drawer to wash your messy parts off. 

“you want me to order something? anything you want, love. i’ll get you anything and everything.” 

“c’mon, sweetheart. drink some water.” 

asshole!sukuna never made you feel small after intimacy, in fact, sometimes you enjoyed the aftermath more than the mindblowing sex. 

“m’ okay, ryo. just wanna cuddle.” you’d admit shyly, reaching for him to come back to bed. 

his eyes would soften and he’d plop down next to you, pulling you into his lap. “anything for you, angel.” 

sure, sukuna was an asshole, but he couldn't even dream of mistreating you, his biggest exception.

“love you, baby.” 

“love you too, ryo.” 

a/n: i wrote this semi off my face so excuse any bad word or structural choices 💘

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