super long rant incoming for lads (if you read this i love you to pieces, if not i still love you to pieces): im not always the biggest fan of the reincarnation/past lover trope (which is ironic bc that’s literally the entire foundation of lads lore LMAO) because sometimes it feels like the LI’s are in love with the idea of us seeing as mc in the storyline is the past version of their beloved. i just can’t help but think, like are they actually in love with MC? or are they in love with some other version of her and that’s the only reason they’re drawn to her? it almost feels like they’re projecting who they think she is when she’s no longer the same person at all in this current timeline & lifetime.
it almost makes it feel like current mc is “the other woman” in some sense, even though that’s a bit illogical because the past version of her is literally her but so much time has passed, things change, people change, and mc is a completely different person than who she was in their past lives. bc truly, the only one who i feel like truly loves her present day for who she is, is caleb. i would argue zayne to an extent too because he technically doesn’t have any memories whatsoever of his past lives so him and MC falling in love feels like it’s happening for the first time again, it’s a blank slate.
and not to say that the boys can’t grow to love who she is without painting her as her past version, but a part of it feels ingenuine sometimes to me. bc although she shares the same face, the same body, arguably the same soul as her past self, seeing as it’s again, literally her SELF, at the core of it, she’s not actually her anymore. she’s someone completely different. so sometimes it feels super bittersweet & the lines get blurred. i have a love hate relationship w some of the lads lore for these reasons.
so sorry for the fatass post, but the lore & past life concept in the game always makes me feel hesitant to truly immerse myself into the game (i don’t even actually play the game, everything ik and have seen are from youtube clips that people have uploaded for all the myths, memories, and the overall storyline). this isn’t to say i don’t look forward to new updates and such, i love love lads. but like whenever i indulge in fanfic, especially as a chronic reader of ‘x reader’ fics, i have to separate reader from being MC, which is why i always stray towards non!mc reader bc there’s no tangible lore and past lives/reincarnations attached to a non!mc reader. at least not to the same extent as the og MC depending on how much the author diverges from canon and just basic background context for reader. but overall imo, non!mc reader just doesn’t carry the same heavy implications of the boys’ true feelings when it’s the actual MC vs a non!mc reader if any of that connected 😔
similarly why i also love iseki/transmigration fics as well; basically any concept where the reader is NOT the mc. bc just like in iseki fics, the boys don’t have the same attachments & feelings towards reader as they do MC. it just feels more sincere imo, idk.
i wonder if im just crazy and have too much time to think & talk to myself about this, or if other players/readers feel the same way. bc ik the whole point of an otome game is that WE are the MC. but ive just never been able to fully immerse myself like that, i see MC as a completely separate character, almost like an OC sometimes. like i just can’t connect or fully enjoy any fanfic with MC being the “reader”. i view MC and reader to be two different people if that makes sense.
and again, im completely aware that as the storyline continues, the boys have obviously shown to care and have deep affectionate feelings (love is a bit too ambiguous imo to truly label that as what they feel for mc) for current mc and its probably only going to strengthen as the story moves forth. but my mind still spirals and thinks about all the “what-ifs” and semantics of reincarnation and past lives. i wish i didn’t think this way, the game and concept of it would probably be more enjoyable all around for me, but i apparently hate myself to think too light heartedly, even for a fictional game/story 😭
truly tho, it’s never that serious, i just had to get that off my chest bc i really don’t know if any other (not sane) person felt this ardent & torn about this as i do, which is a little silly honestly but here we are LMAO 🧍♀️ but in the end, there’s something for everyone here in the world of fanfic & delusions! 🫶🏼🫧
Hello!! Idk if you're taking requests but I'm begging youuu pleaseee do a yandere Caleb x nonmc reader!! Where nonmc thought Y Caleb is obsessed with mc so nonmc decided to step back and move on from their lives and disappear. Then many years later just when nonmc is settled down with their own happiness Y Caleb found them and this time he will never let them go, even if it means destroying what nonmc loves most. You take it from hereeee but I begggeddd you author-sannnn
୨୧ — SPOKEN FOR, AND AGAINST.
pairings: Caleb Xia x non!MC reader, very brief Caleb x MC
contents: dark content, mutual pining, stalking, timeskips, caleb post toring chip op, mention of gun, detailed description of a dead body so read at your own discretion, yandere!caleb, he’s kinda insane in this one in case that wasn’t clear yet lmao, 3K words
a/n: might have gotten a little carried away and put him on the more extreme side of the yandere spectrum whoops
You never understood people who said love was a choice.
To you, the sentiment lacked depth and true understanding of what love was. It explained away the concept from a purely analytical standpoint, where people were expected to be able to switch their feelings on and off at will. ‘If this relationship isn’t working, you could always choose to leave, choose better.’ They’d say, and it took everything in you to fight back an eyeroll.
You would have saved yourself from a lot of heartache if it was that easy.
You wouldn’t have needed to hold back tears when you stumbled upon a random alley to throw up after having one too many vodka shots, only to see the image that would be imprinted in your mind even years later.
The stop-motion scene before you showed the unmistakable broad shoulders of your longtime crush being caressed, then pressed against the alley wall. When you caught sight of who was kissing him, your eyes nearly bulged out.
What the fuck? Wasn’t she his…weren’t they—
You shook the scene from your mind, willing it to dissipate as if an iron-clad eraser had been taken to it, rubbing furiously and tearing it apart like a flimsy sheet of paper.
You had backed out of the alley on shaky legs, stomach still threatening to revolt despite being smacked right out of your tipsy haze. A million questions bubbled in your mind, and you weren’t sure why you were having such a strong reaction towards the situation.
Caleb Xia was not your boyfriend, you were the one with the stupid crush, so his alleyway hookups shouldn’t bother you this much.
It's said that when you’re attracted to someone, you start to notice them everywhere, and back in college, it was a rare occurrence for you to not end up in the same room as him one way or another.
Caleb sat a few tables away from you in the library, coincidentally picking the same times to study that you did. He would hover bare inches away from you when you stood in line to get lunch, so close you could’ve sworn you felt the warmth of his body against your back.
Then he started talking to you, and you were done for.
Already psychologically wired to see him everywhere; his charisma was like the final nail in the coffin that cemented your feelings for him.
Unfortunately, someone had let your little crush slip, and you braced yourself for rejection that never came.
In hindsight, you really wish it had.
Caleb started lingering outside your lectures, waiting for you, then offering you a ride home. Admittedly, you shouldn’t have brushed it off when he drove straight to your house without needing any directions, but you were too busy floating on cloud nine to do so.
Some days, Caleb would make the occasional detour to a cafe where he, rather rigidly, only ordered apple crumble pie at. And when you would walk back to his car side by side, your mind tricked you into thinking that his knuckles brushed over the back of your hand, just shy of holding it.
How naive you were to think that meant he reciprocated your feelings.
Thinking back on it now, you wholly believe his actions were more of a kindness to you, because Caleb was just too good a guy to embarrass you by outwardly rejecting you in front of your mutual friends.
But after seeing them together that night at the party, you did it for him.
The day after you found him outside your class, leg propped against a wall as he waited for you, you walked right past him. You made it all of two steps before a hand latched around your wrist. It wasn’t exactly rough, but it was firm enough to stop you in your tracks.
“Where are you running off to so fast?” That adorable chuckle of his almost made you forget yourself. “It looks like it’s about to rain. I can drive you home.”
You tugged your hand out of his and shook your head at him, “That’s not necessary, I think I’ll beat it if I head out now.”
“Come on, I really don’t mind—”
Never one to bite your tongue, the words tumbled out.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m gonna get dragged into some back alley in broad daylight.”
Caleb’s dark eyebrows knitted in confusion, lips parting to tell you that your little ‘joke’ only made him want take you home more, but then, as if something clicked into place, he froze.
Dragged into an alley?
You had seen him. Seen them. He was sure of it. A hand went to scratch the short crop of hair just above his neck, “Oh, you saw that, huh? Pips was drunk, probably mistook me for Zayne or something—”
Your hand lifted to stop him.
“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Caleb.” His hand dropped to his side, smile wavering at the sharpness of your voice. “But I think it’s best we stop whatever this is while we’re ahead. Just so no one gets the wrong idea.”
Namely you.
You’d like to say a strange look passed in his peculiarly purple eyes, but that wasn’t the truth. They just sort of…went blank. Scarily so. As if you were looking at a walking corpse whose soul had just been scooped clean out their body. It unsettled you enough to make you walk away without waiting for his response. And he let you. Or at least you think he did.
If love were truly a choice, that would’ve been the end of it. Your eyes wouldn’t have looked for him in every room, heart nearly thumping out of your chest when you found him already watching you. And you wouldn’t have envisioned every partner you had thereafter as having those boundless indigo eyes everytime they looked at you.
For some reason, none of your relationships lasted. It was like a switch would flip, and they’d want to call it quits. And you, so worried that they had seen through you, seen that you were thinking about someone else every second you were with them, didn’t pay attention to the busted lips and black eyes most of them sported.
Moving away after graduation did you good. It gave you a fresh start with a man who didn’t randomly go hot and cold. Of course, until that fateful day, he did go cold. Dead cold.
You hated funerals.
Not that you thought anyone sane liked them, but there was something unnervingly wrong about being at your boyfriend's one.
During the service, the room was saturated in a dark, suffocating gloom. Everyone mechanically moved towards Aaron’s coffin and just placed their hands on it, as if they wished they could touch him one last time. Some people you had never seen before were sobbing harder than his family was, harder than you were and falling over themselves while their bodies jerked like they had been dipped in acid.
Aaron couldn’t have an open casket, and it was just as well because you don’t think you could see him that way again.
His voice rang so clearly in your ears that it was hard to believe he was gone. Just days ago, he had hulked into your shared apartment with his cap sitting low over his face, greeting you before saying his famous catchphrase.
“What’s for dinner, babe?”
“I thought we could order in tonight.” You told him without even looking up from your laptop, way too engrossed in finishing a presentation. Aaron closed the door behind him, footsteps loud with his heavy work boots and the sound he made had you bristling.
“You didn’t cook?” He asked with his voice gruff, and when you finally looked up at him with a raised brow, he offered you a pacifying smile. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”
“Mhm.” He moved in on you, and you turned back to your work as a soft kiss was pressed to your cheek.
“It’s only because I love your cooking so much.” He said, gently petting the bear (you) so it wouldn’t bite his head off.
“Yeah, yeah go shower, you oaf.” You felt him smile against your skin before pulling away.
You watched Aaron’s back as he retreated into the bathroom, and a fond smile tugged at your lips. Your longest boyfriend was a man who was rough around the edges but became as soft as a ball of cotton candy where you were concerned. He loved you and somedays, especially ones a certain dark-haired colonel didn’t plague your thoughts, you felt your heart softening towards him too.
You loved him. And one day, college crush be damned, you knew you’d fall in love with him too.
Feeling the strong need to take a breather after being stuck behind the screen all day long, you slid on your shoes and knocked on the bathroom door to tell Aaron you'd be going straight to the restaurant instead of having the food delivered.
It took a few tries for you to remember everything he wanted as he called out his order over the light pitter-patter of the shower, but once you finally memorised it, you were off.
You had been gone for over an hour, so coming back to the apartment to hear the shower still running had you at a loss.
“Just how much work were you doing at the site to need an hour-long shower?” You got no response when you walked past the bathroom and went to put the paper bags on the counter.
You were curbing your rumbling belly with one fry at a time when you decided that you had waited long enough. Why he always insisted on eating together just for you to always beat him to the table, you’d never know.
“Aaron, come on.” Sliding out the chair and leaving your cheeseburger behind was no small feat, but you managed.
You leaned against the bathroom door, knocking a little too hard. You always got moody when you were hungry. “I’m eating without you if you don’t come out in the next two seconds!”
Silence.
“Baaabe.” You lamented over another hunger pang, but aside from that sound, you were met with silence again.
You wished you never pushed that door open because through the thick blanket of steam billowing around the room and the pour of water from the showerhead, you saw it.
The deathly still outline of a silhouette.
“Aaron…?”
You squinted your eyes as if that would force more light to pour into the space, and maybe it worked because you finally saw him slumped against the once pristine bathroom wall.
Because now it was anything but, as a large splatter of blood strained it, spoiled it, and formed a halo of crimson around his head. He looked like some kind of underworldly creature with his once tanned skin dimmed ashen white and his veins skirted under it in thick ropes. They were coloured a bright blue, like a bolt of lightning had shot through him.
Except it wasn’t lightning.
The unseeing curtain that fell over his eyes and refused to ever open told you that. And the gaping hole between his eyebrows told you more. At complete odds with the mess of blood and gnarled debris spurred over his ghostly face, the wound was a clean, professional shot that cut right through his skull and came out the back of his head matting his stringy hair dark red.
Your legs gave out, and you weren’t sure what sound wrenched itself from your throat, only that it was loud enough to make your own ears ring. Knees meeting the tiles in a hard blow, the jolt of pain surging through your bones was the last thing you remembered before your vision went dark.
A week had passed since then, yet the image still gave you sleepless nights. Your red rimmed eyes stung when you rubbed at them and when you heard your name being called, you almost thought you had finally drifted off to dreamland.
Everyone had left, but you were still at the cemetery, gaze sightlessly hollow as you stared at Aaron’s tombstone, but that voice…the familiarity of it, it had your head turning.
Then your eyes landed on him, and you decided that this was undoubtedly the worst week of your life.
First, a dead boyfriend and now Caleb.
Clad in a plain black suit, Caleb had a beautifully crafted wreath in his hand, and seeing you needed some time to gather yourself, he didn’t rush to greet you. He just walked to the tombstone, set the flowers down, then wordlessly stood at your side.
It was just your luck that, along with your mutual friends, the man was back like a bad rash to see you in your most vulnerable state.
Caleb stood in the back of the hall during the service, and your soft cries were heart-wrenching.
It was almost enough to make him feel bad for being the cause of your distress. But he didn’t have much of a choice.
He could blame his actions on the Toring chip, say that when it dampened his mood, it also clouded his judgment and made him act out of character, but that simply wouldn’t be true.
Because even before joining the Fleet and getting the implant, Caleb still had a short fuse.
When he heard that you liked him, his excitement nearly had him sprouting goddamned wings and taking flight. He had liked you for longer than he could remember, so the prospect that you felt even half of what he did made the nature of his crush a little obsessive.
It turned into a ghastly, twisted thing that had his feet following you around before he could even stop himself. But despite this, Caleb was smart enough to know that he couldn’t come on too strong and risk scaring you away.
He needed to be careful, and he needed to be patient.
It was hard enough when you cut him off after seeing that accidental alley kiss, a kiss he immediately broke away from, but apparently, you didn’t see that part.
It was even harder when you moved to the other side of town and shacked up that foreman of yours.
Caleb was always nearby, of course, whether that be digitally via the cameras he installed in your house or physically as a dark shadow in the deep corners of the rooms you walked into.
It was all going well until he broke his routine and decided to follow Aaron instead of you.
His heart painfully shuttered in his chest when he saw the man walk into a jewellery store. Caleb’s breath was heavy when he saw the man pick out a ring. One that you wouldn’t even like, but an engagement ring nonetheless.
No, that simply wouldn’t do. He thought.
Aaron wasn't like one of those spineless boys Caleb roughed up to make them stop seeing you. The man would sooner laugh in his face and rush to propose if Caleb even tried anything.
So, he knew he needed to take more extreme measures.
Caleb wanted to be quiet about it. He didn’t want to take care of Aaron in a way that would weigh on you too much. He wanted to make the man disappear quietly…but he had put up a fight.
Caleb reached for his gun before he could even stop himself, and even as he stared unblinkingly at the man shuddering as his last few breaths left him, he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it.
He really meant to clean up after the mess so you wouldn’t see the grotesque scene, but with a glance at his phone, the tracker he put in your car told him that he didn’t have enough time. As it were, leaving your apartment in that state made you the prime suspect of the murder, but the police’s power trip only lasted a couple hours before he swayed the Fleet’s influence over the department and told them, in no uncertain terms, to look elsewhere.
And a week later, in true unhinged fashion, he walked into the very funeral of the man he killed, more than ready to console his would-be fiancée.
“What are you doing here?” Your tone was odd. While clipped and sharp enough to cut through anything with unnerving ease, it had a wobbly lilt too, like it would topple over into a sob if you didn’t hold it together firmly enough.
“I wanted to offer my condolences.” His words only elicited a shaky breath from you, so he felt the need to continue. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Caleb turned to you a little, just enough to see your lower lip tremble.
“Thank you.”
Your voice came out a little too thin, and when the first tear fell, he fully turned to you, hand hovering above your shoulder but not quite touching you. A wracking sob shook them.
“Hey,” his voice was soft as he stepped closer to you, crowding in on you. And he was stunned when you threw yourself into his arms, small hands clutching at his blazer while you cried into his chest.
It seemed you had finally reached your limit. You had come fully apart, shattered like delicate glass into a million tiny shards and turning to whoever was closest so you could try to meld yourself back together with the comfort they offered.
As it turned out, Caleb was the closest person. And he had to catch himself when he felt the corners of his lips curling up.
You choose him. And he would be more than happy to oblige.
“I’m sorry.” You choked out, utterly apologetic as you wet his dress shirt.
“Shhh,” His hands wrapped around you, and he placed a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. “I’ve got you.”
A hand pats your back, then rubs soothingly.
“I’ll always be here for you.”
And you knew he meant it, because when you were still considered a suspect for Aaron’s murder, the police had searched your apartment and unearthed a couple dozen hidden cameras.
Belatedly, you realised their craftsmanship was unmistakably similar to the robotics project Caleb had all the professors swooning over back in college.
So, if love were truly a choice, you would have sought justice for Aaron and immediately reported Caleb to the police. You surely wouldn’t be clinging onto him as if he were your sole anchoring force. All while a dark, pleasurable hum buzzed along your skin. Low and hissy it told you that if you ever doubted his feelings, the macabre display of the lengths he was willing to go to keep you at his side should silence all uncertainty.
a/n: so yeah…that’s done…unfortunately this is the first and last request I’m taking. I don’t know how other writers do it but it was too difficult for me ahhh. but thank you for the ask anon it really stuck out to me 🤍
the first time your son learned how to walk, you and your husband satoru were over the moon. it was on a random saturday afternoon with you all in your son’s playpen. already a seemingly rare occasion where satoru finally had a break from all of his missions.
at just 6 months, your baby could already crawl and stand up by using objects above to grip onto — satoru argues that the gojo genetics has him so incredibly advanced for his age.
but that wasn’t enough for your son. now at 9 months old, he kept attempting to walk only for his little legs to give up halfway. but you were determined for today to finally be the day.
satoru was sprawled out like a starfish whilst replacing the batteries for your son’s bubble machine. that which you had shoko to thank for — all of your friends collectively made sure that your baby was beyond spoiled than he already is.
you were also sat further away with all of the toys beside you to motivate your son to walk over.
“come on baby! don’t you want teddy back?” you chirp at your son.
he slowly stands up, already making improvement since he wasn’t holding onto anything for the first time. “ma–ma!” he happily claps his tiny hands as he takes two small baby steps.
“that’s it! come to mama!” you encourage him into your arms whilst he’s still deciding if he should try to walk or not. your son has a cute pout and furrow in his eyebrows painting his dedicated face as his wobbly steps grow more steady.
“oh my gosh! satoru, look!” you shake his shoulder repeatedly to face your son who was slowly but surely padding his way over to you both.
“wooow~ look at our little munchkin go!” he cheers on. you pull out your phone to commemorate the special milestone.
“dadadadada” he babbles on until stumbling over a lego block. you and satoru immediately share a look that says ‘do not react’ before he gets back up waddling and continues his string of babbles right into satoru’s arms.
“awww my smart baby! we’re so proud of you! and i think this may call for some mochi ice cream to celebrate if mama allows it…”
“alrighttt.. just this once. our baby deserves it after all.” you say in between peppering your son’s face in kisses.
little did you know how much of an adorable menace your son would grow into once learning how to walk…
fast forward to now at 12 months old, and it feels like your son was placed on earth for the sole purpose of acting as your personal trainer with the way you’re relentlessly chasing after him non-stop.
it’s early in the morning when satoru’s soft snores have once again woken you up — but he’ll always deny it. his arms are wrapped around your waist to cage you in from starting the day way too early.
“toru, let go…” you whisper whilst caressing his hair to gently wake him up.
“mmm.. five more minutes if you love me...” he croaks, reluctantly letting go eventually — but not before whining immediately when you do get up. god, sometimes he acts more like a baby than your actual infant.
when you groggily check the baby monitor on the bedside table, your heart drops. why is your baby not… in his crib? maybe you’re running on a lack of sleep which is causing you to hallucinate? you rub your eyes and focus on the screen again only to be met with the same sight.
at this point your mind is going to the worst of places. what if the gojo clan were right and you weren’t cautious enough and now your baby was made a target?
“hey– hey, what’s the matter sweets?” satoru’s words snap you out of your overthinking. it turns out you were hyperventilating without even realising which was enough to awaken the now worried sleepyhead.
“toru, he’s not in his crib! where the hell could he be?!”
“shh, it’s okay. i can sense his tiny cursed energy still in the home. let’s just get up and look for him, can you do that for me?” he softly kisses your cheek.
“o-okay, yeah. i can do that.” you get out of bed and head to the living room, satoru trailing from behind. you won’t lie and admit that you’re out of breath when you get there. ugh, curse satoru for insisting on spoiling you with a mansion after moving in together!
you scan the empty living room all over “okay so, he’s not here..” you mumble quietly, trying to compose yourself from freaking out.
“let’s not panic, we still have fifty something other rooms to check!”
you shoot him a glare, “that is not helping me right now. what if he accidentally hurt himself? a-and it’s so bad that he can’t even call out for us?!” your voice cracks as tears threaten to spill out. yeah. you were spiralling.
“stay calm sweets. i’ll check the other living room, kay?” he kisses at your pout. you hum defeatedly in response, pacing mindlessly into the kitchen until you suddenly stop in your tracks.
there you saw…your baby? sat on the floor hugging the jar of homemade cookies whilst munching away. crumbs and chocolate chips smear his face and clothes as a sign that he’s been here for a good minute.
“what on earth…” your son just giggles like he understands your confusion. “mama cookie!” he stretches out his grubby hand to show his half–bitten cookie, almost like a peace offering.
“uh, one second baby.. ahem– SATORUUU! come take a look at what your son is up to!” you have to yell knowing he’s somewhere on the other side of the massive house. your son who is completely unfazed by your shouting goes back to joyfully munching on his cookie.
satoru frantically spawns there within seconds, “you found him?” you nod, gesturing him to look down at the sight you just walked into. “oh wow–” he can’t help but burst out laughing, “that’s my son alright!”
you scoop your baby up into your arms and prop him on your waist. he whimpers when you separate him from his beloved cookie jar. “really? you couldn’t tell when he came out with glowing blue eyes?”
“heyyy! i can’t help that my genes are insanely overpowering! but you never know, perhaps our next one will be your carbon copy~” he playfully winks at you.
you roll your eyes, “how smooth of you. seriously though, how did he even end up here and reaching the jar?”
“hmm..” satoru points at the tiny stool, “he must’ve pulled out this stool to get to the jar. and as for how he got here, you must know by now that he’s an ambitious walker.”
“oh trust me i know. gosh, he’s getting way too smart for us. i think we need to lock away the goods before this continues..”
“good idea, i’ll look into investing in a safe. you go back to bed and i’ll sort out a bath for this cookie monster.” he pokes your son’s chubby cheeks which makes him squeak before you hand him over. “after all, he probably developed his newfound sweet tooth from me.”
“probably? oh please– it was most definitely you! my pregnancy cravings were the only time i was consistently having sugar to make my pickles and ice cream combo.”
“hehe– remember when you would wrap the pickles in fruit roll ups” satoru chuckles at the memory. he would taste all of your unique cravings with you as a means of showing his support in any way possible — even if he found it absolutely repulsive.
“of course, that was heavenly.” you sigh dreamily before turning to your son and holding his pudgy hand in yours “and baby, cookies are only allowed for treating good behaviour. if you have too much then you’re going to be sick. we don’t want that now, do we?”
“nooo…” your son shakes his head.
“alright mister, let’s get that bath ready then make some breakfast in bed for mama. you gave her quite the scare wandering off like that, so give her a kiss before we go.” something about satoru in dad mode always leaves your heart skipping a beat, from the very moment he carried your baby in the hospital.
“otay! bye bye mama” he cups your face with his sticky hands and places a sloppy kiss on both of your cheeks. “dada turn!”
“well, don’t mind if i do~” he catches you off guard as his lips smoothly connect to yours. you naturally melt into the kiss until a few moments later when your son has had enough and starts pounding at his dad’s chest to stop.
“hey– ow! why’re you hitting papa, hm?”
“no more! all done.” your baby shrieks in a somewhat stern tone, and satoru could’ve sworn that he saw his son’s bright blue eyes narrow at him. you only snort at his silly attempt to protect you.
“alright, let’s not be too mean on daddy. or else who’ll buy your sweets and toys?”
“GASP– is that all you think i’m good for?”
“yes.” you immediately deadpan, your baby watches you nod and copies. “yesh.”
“oh god– i never thought i’d see the day where the love of my life and my spawn are both turning against me! i– i can’t take it!” he clutches at his shirt dramatically making you and your baby giggle.
“hey! don’t call our precious son a spawn!” you lightly slap his shoulder, of course your baby follows and shoves him too. “you sound like the higher ups..” you pettily grumble under your breath, loud enough for him to hear.
“eugh– you’re right. sorry mochi, but let’s go take that bath. something seriously stinks now–” satoru grimaces, giving one last kiss to your forehead before you go back to bed for a nap whilst he cleans your baby up.
you may joke with him all the time but one thing for certain is that he’s always been an amazing husband and father. ≧◡≦
notes: i luv reading dad jjk men so writing this was soso fun, don’t be shy to req more guys, technically gojo could have teleported to the baby but i wanted to long things out 🥰, but yeah i didn’t know how to end it so hope this was okay
the way things go. implied past caleb x non!mc reader. zayne x non!mc reader
zayne is leaving this summer.
he’s been offered a chance to study abroad. given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to leave this town
one that took him a strenuous number of days to really think about, to weigh out every pro and con, hesitant in making his decision. because he knew that if he accepted, it would mean leaving behind his family and his other friends.
it would mean leaving you.
but when he looked at you, at the way your eyes gleamed with nothing but pride and encouragement, you made him realize he was meant for bigger things.
he was meant to save people.
and he was always meant to return to you when he finished.
still feeling bittersweet, you find yourself in his room, sitting cross-legged on the floor, helping him pack his life into boxes.
the chatter and easy music from downstairs don’t bother the two of you. it drifts through the air like background noise—warm and distant.
zayne, though grateful his parents threw together a farewell gathering for his departure, chose to ignore it.
instead, he sits there with you—and only you—placing the books he wishes to donate into one pile, and the ones he knows he’ll reread in another.
caleb and mckayla were also in attendance, but this was better.
better for the two of you to relish your last night together, undisturbed.
“now that you’re leaving me,” you say teasingly, glancing up from the photographs in your hands, “who will i have to bother?”
zayne is already staring at you, mouth slightly agape.
then, he clears his throat.
“you’ll have caleb and mc. of course.”
zayne was the only one who insisted on using the nickname her other friends gave her—long after she’d outgrown her given name.
you shake your head.
“it’s not the same.”
your gaze glides back to the photographs.
“they're closer now, you know that.”
a deep breath.
“i don’t really have a place in that circle anymore.”
zayne understands. he felt the shift with caleb and mckayla, too.
whether it was the atmosphere of high school or the new cliques that came with it, the four of you stopped orbiting each other all the same. you and zayne were the only ones who seemed too far to catch up.
now it had become mckayla and caleb.
best friends, and possibly more.
so it just became you and zayne out of necessity.
best friends who were definitely teetering on something more.
“i know,” he mumbles quietly. “i’m sorry i brought it up.”
his hand brushes against yours as your attention falls to the photo in your hand.
a picture with all of you taken by mckayla’s grandma.
halloween four years ago, dressed as ghostbusters for the middle school haunted maze.
it was before things got complicated.
before caleb...
zayne watches you study the picture and notices the way you mourn the past.
sees the way your eyes flicker between caleb’s arm slung over your shoulder, holding you securely, and the glint of light in your eyes, accompanied by the bright, unguarded smile you give the camera.
before the moment can grow any heavier, zayne suddenly springs to his feet. it’s so abrupt, it startles you, causing the photo to slip from your fingers and onto your lap.
“i have something for you. stay here.”
before you can even think of asking what he means or where he’s going, he’s already jumping over you to cross the room, fleeing into the hallways while still leaving the door slightly ajar.
three knocks echo through the room seconds later.
“oh, there you are,” the familiar voice rings out, pulling your attention away from the photos in your hand and toward the doorway.
caleb stands there, pushing zayne’s door open a little wider to see you properly.
behind him, mckayla balances on the tips of her toes, hands resting on his shoulders as she tries to peek around him.
"your mom’s looking for you both,” caleb says. “she sent us up here to get you. something about the cake you made for zayne?"
his ametrine lands on you, lingering for a moment before drifting down to the pile of scattered photos.
to the one you were holding in your hands just before zayne left.
you tuck it hastily into a pile, leaving him to question, but possibly already knowing the answer.
“oh, okay. yeah, i’ll be right down, i’ll tell zayne when he gets back.”
your voice is polite and brief, hoping they take the hint and return downstairs with the others.
but they don’t, and zayne returns, excusing himself back into his own room, not acknowledging them as he resumes into the spot next to you.
only then does he pull his arm from behind his back.
they continue to stand there, curious as to what zayne has wrapped in that box-shaped present in his hands.
he doesn’t tell them to leave, and neither do you, because in this moment, it’s as if they didn’t matter.
only you two did.
“this...this is for you,” he says, handing over the gift and placing it gently in your hands, and your eyes widen as his smile reaches his ears, expectant.
you pry off the lavender-colored wrapping paper and open the box to reveal a gorgeous diamond-encrusted bracelet. holding it up, a charm akin to the sun, with your birthstone at its center.
it’s simply the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
“wow, zayne, that’s so pretty!” you hear mckayla announce off to the side.
your eyes tear themselves away from the bracelet in your hand and to her. seeing that she’s no longer standing behind caleb, but rather, in front of him. eyes full of awe at the gift given to you.
as if mimicking her, you also beam with pure joy at the gift given to you from your best friend.
yes, zayne was your best friend. and it didn’t feel like a betrayal when mckayla was in the room because the truth was, you were not hers, and she was not yours.
not anymore.
zayne breaks through your thoughts, clearing his throat as he continues.
“you remind me of the sun. always shining, even on cloud-hazed days.” he says softly, delicately taking the bracelet from your hand, already moving to latch it around your wrist.
“like the center of my universe, keeping me in your orbit.”
you take a steady breath.
“and i don’t know what i’d be if you had never shared your warmth with me.”
you shift your gaze from the bracelet to zayne, caught off guard by his hazel eyes meeting yours, something unspoken making your heart skip a beat, and a lump forming in your throat.
“and i wouldn’t ask for it any other way.”
it finally hits you, clear as day.
something you have long known, but have confirmed as of now.
you love him.
you love zayne li.
and zayne li loves you back.
more than his best friend.
now, the moments shared are no longer hidden in the lingering touches and long stares, because what you feel for each other is real.
you laugh, feeling weightless as you launch yourself into his arms, causing him to topple onto his back, your joy is spilling out as you close the distance.
“thank you, thank you, thank you, zayne li.” you giggle, peppering light kisses all over him, and he lets you, not once freezing or flinching away like you thought he would.
the world shrinks to just the two of you—lost in your own little bubble, stuck in pure euphoria.
until it isn’t.
a squeal is heard from the doorway, and you freeze, lips hovering inches from zayne’s cheek.
you turn your head towards the noise to see that mckayla, hands clasped as a giddy smile tugs at her lips.
she looks like someone whose suspicions have just been confirmed, practically glowing from this new development.
…
but caleb, on the other hand?
caleb is silent.
he tries hard to hide it. the slight shift in his jaw. the way his shoulders tense and his throat feels exceptionally dry. he curses himself for how it sounds when he cleared it. it was so loud. too obvious.
but you‘re not looking at him. not at all.
you haven’t looked at him since he broke your heart two summers ago.
sure, you claimed to be over it, and you two agreed you were better off as friends.
nothing about your relationship had to change, because it was a mistake.
and that everything was fine. it always would be.
but was it really?
because seeing you look at zayne the way you used to look at him stirs a storm in his chest.
actually, it guts him. it leaves him feeling exposed and vulnerable. it leaves him asking why.
why did he let you go?
you used to look at me.
why did he have to go off and ruin everything?
look at me.
but one thing remains, bitter and cruel.
what right does he have now, really? now that you're in the arms of another.
someone who chose you first. someone who never had you doubting your position in his life. someone who didn’t cower out.
caleb has ruined the past, and now he’s sure his future will never have you in it again.
⏾
a/n: i was supposed to work on the next chapter of lejos de ti (from caleb's pov too💔) but i got distracted LMAO. hope this lil blurb contributes to the severe nonmc drought i feel like i’m facing rn
Sitting on the swinging bench on the porch of the quaint home you bought a few years ago with Toji, you curl up with a blanket, and a good book you’ve been begging to find the time to read. A cold breeze blows against your face, rain pours down from the roof, splashing when it hits the damp soil.
Loud giggles reach your ears, grabbing your attention, and when you look up you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.
Megumi stomps around in every puddle he can find, yellow rain boots a size too big, with the spiderman raincoat he begged for last year even though they only had one in a size meant for someone much bigger than him. Toji’s only a few steps behind him, his regular clothes drenched from the pouring down rain, and yet, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so happy.
“Come here you little brat,” Toji says, a smirk playing on his face as he chases behind Megumi.
You know he could easily catch up to him, but the way his heart melts at the sound of those carefree laughs was something he would never give up.
Eventually, Toji grabs Megumi by the waist, hoisting him up in the air just to spin him around and around. The laughter that poured from him sounded like music to your ears. It was well worth the mud tracks, and wet puddles that would be left behind after.
“Gumi! Tell daddy to be careful with my baby,” you shout, laughing softly as both of them look over to where you were sitting.
Toji sets him on his hip, kissing his face repeatedly, Megumi’s hands clutching his dads sopping wet t-shirt. He begins walking towards you, climbing the steps of the porch before walking closer to the swinging bench.
“Why don’t we give mama the wettest hug she’s ever had,” Toji whispers, leaning down to Megumi’s ear, but saying it loud enough to where you could hear.
You stick one leg out from under the blanket, pointing it in Toji’s direction to stop him from coming any closer.
“You better not,” you say, glaring at him but you can’t help the way your lips twitch up from the sides.
“Yes! Let’s give mama a hug daddy,” Megumi says, clapping his hands together before holding them out for you to melt into.
It was hard to say no to your baby boy. He was all precious smiles and laughter.
“You heard the boy. Come on now, give your husband and son a hug, will you,” Toji asks, fake pouting while rainwater drips from his and Megumi’s clothes.
“Please mama,” Megumi adds, putting on the same pouting look his father was wearing, and you know you would have get onto Toji about teaching his son that.
“Fine,” you huff, your heart was already melting for them, and you know it is inevitable.
Pushing up from the bench, Toji and Megumi hold their arms out for you, grinning from ear to ear because you gave into their puppy dog eyes and pouts. Falling into their arms, you can feel your clothes dampen within seconds, so you press yourself against them even more.
Caging Megumi in between you two, Toji places a soft kiss to your forehead, gazing down at you with a love you have never seen before.
“We love you mama,” he whispers, tugging Megumi closer to where you hug.
“We do,” Megumi adds.
“You guys better be glad I love you,” you say, backing away, showing them your clothes are soaking wet too despite not even being in the rain.
“Alright,” Toji says, turning his attention back to Megumi, “time for a bath. Your mother would kill me if I let you walk around her house like this.”
Megumi giggles, eyeing you, before agreeing with Toji’s statement.
“Love you Gumi,” you say, smiling over at him before pulling on his hand.
They disappear into the house, and you sigh, content with the fact that you are soaking wet simply because it brought joy to your two boys.
│Masterlist│
𑣲Click HERE to fill out my taglist form or comment on THIS post
iwaizumi catches you talking behind his back ; fluff
iwaizumi was looking for his water bottle in the clubroom after a grueling three-hour practice. the gym was quiet, the rest of the team already in the showers, when he heard your voice through the open window of the adjacent equipment shed. you were talking to one of the first-year managers.
“i don’t know, i just like guys who are dependable. like… someone who works hard without bragging about it.”
“like iwaizumi-senpai?” the manager asked.
“yeah,” you murmured softly. “exactly like him. he’s really reliable. and his arms are… well, you know.”
outside, iwaizumi completely short-circuited. he dropped his gym bag with a loud, echoing clatter against the concrete porch. his dark eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open, and his face instantly turned a violent, agonizing shade of red under his dark bangs. he stood there like a statue, his heart hammering against his ribs so forcefully he was convinced the entire prefecture could hear it.
the shed door slid open immediately. you stepped out, holding a basket of volleyballs, and froze when you saw him standing there, looking like he had just witnessed a crime.
“iwaizumi!” you gasped, your own face burning. “how much of that did you hear?”
he cleared his throat, a loud, rough sound, his shoulders hunching up defensively as he slammed his hands into his tracksuit pockets. “the… the part about the arms,” he barked out defensively, his voice cracking slightly before he forced it down into a growl. he stepped right into your space, towering over you, his jaw set so tight a muscle was ticking. he looked terrifyingly intense, but his ears were glowing bright crimson. “if you want to talk about my arms, say it to my face. and… and i am dependable. i’ll walk you to the station every day from now on to prove it. so stop talking about me behind my back.”
n: for my beloved discord members, cs i’m outside rn lawl.. i can’t write fics ;(
husband toji and wife reader are there for megumi for his first steps! 1,201 words!
｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ
toji isn’t a crier. i mean, yeah sure he’s had his emotional moments. like at your wedding, or when you announced you were pregnant, or when you had your son, or when he found out that meeting you was the best moment of his life, or actually, no he’s a little bit of a crier.
but he can’t help it ! meeting you was the best moment of his life, and he can’t imagine where he would be without you. that being said, toji doesn’t believe himself to be a crier.
megumi had just turned 13 months. and damn was he the fastest crawler you’d ever seen. constantly crawling back and forth between you, toji, his toys, and the fridge. because he can’t go 30 minutes without asking’ “mama, nack?”
but megumi was a good boy, except when he gets angry at toji for showing you too much affection. because apparently in megumi’s mind, toji can only give you attention if megumi’s asleep, or jealousy will ensue from the small toddler.
that being said, when will megumi walk?
toji just got home from work, while you were cooking gyudon and megumi was babbling to himself with plushies in between his fat chunky fingers.
toji immediately sets down whatever he was holding, takes off his shoes, and goes to greet his sweet wife (but not before drooling at the smell of food).
he stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, as he gives your forehead a gentle kiss.
“hey pretty lady, are you single?” he can’t help but flirt. “as handsome as you are, i really hate to say it, but, i’m unfortunately married.” toji immediately pouts.
“unfortunately? what the hell do you mean unfortunately?” he says as he squeezes you slightly tighter, while digging his fingers into your sides in an attempt to tickle you.
well it works because now you’re a giggling mess while trying to chop green onions. it’s a perfect, domestic moment.
“hey! ‘op it!” well it was a domestic moment. megumi clearly isn’t happy about the attention his dad is giving his mom.
“oh yeah, i thought something was missing. it was way to peaceful and nice earlier,” toji can’t help but tease the boy, despite megumi not knowing what he was even saying.
you lightly smack tojis chest with a laughter that has his heart skip a beat even after all of these years.
then it happens.
megumi attempts to get up while using a plushie toy as a crutch, but ultimately fails as he is heavier than the plush.
“oh?” toji murmured, “what do we have here megs?” he asks said boy while intensely, but also warily staring at the boy.
megumi attempts to stand again, this time using the coffee table. and it works, megumi at his prime age of 13 months is standing.
you gasp softly while covering your mouth, you had tried all day for megumi to walk, hell even stand! but now that toji’s home and showing you too much attention, thats when megumi decided, enough is enough.
he stands, albeit very shakily, and he put one foot in front of the other before slightly stumbling. fortunately, he catches himself and just stands there for a moment. and then he tries again.
left. right. left. right. left. right.
is what i imagine megumi is thinking because to toji and his sweet wife, megumi is quite literally just staring at his own two feet.
“uh megumi? sweetheart?” you call out to him. megumi raises his head to stare at you, then toji, then you again. he’s had it.
his dad is 3 inches too close to you. so he puts his best foot forward (not that that means much) and steps.
both yours and toji eyes widen before looking at each other briefly. you both look back at megumi who seems to be looking for encouragement? or maybe motivation?
it was motivation, because seeing you so close to toji irks him! you should be close to him!
so he puts the next foot in front of him, and he does this once more before getting teary eyed, looking at his mama.
“mama,” he whines with watery eyes. you crouch and put your hands out in front of you, with a ‘come here’ motion. “c’mon baby, mamas here, she’s right here!” you exclaim as quietly but excitedly, as you don’t want to disturb his focus.
“nah megs stay over there, your dad needs some more alone time with mama,” he teases the boy while gently grabbing you by the arm and lifting you up.
that’s it. megumi’s pissed.
with his eyebrows furrowed, tears gone, and a mean pout, he starts waddling, very quickly might i add, but not to you, straight to toji.
megumi makes it (very out of breath mind you), and immediately starts punching toji at his pant leg.
as funny as this was, you pick up megumi and twirl him around in your arms. peppering kisses all over his chunky cheeks, which are quite red as his trek was long (it wasn’t).
you’re mumbling praises in his ear, telling him how he’s ‘a good boy’, ‘i’m so proud of you,’ and ‘so brave protecting me from ugly daddy.’
toji should’ve been offended, instead he was frozen in place, staring at his wife, and son who had just walked.
he. just. walked.
he can’t help the fact that tears started flowing down his face. toji is ugly crying.
his hands cover his face as the memory of megumi being born flows through his mind. it seemed like yesterday, you were just pregnant with him!
the sound of cries stops your celebration, as both you and megumi look at toji. megumi looks like he’s damn near in tears just from watching his dad. he turns from facing you, and holds his arms out or toji, while patting toji’s hand that’s covering his face.
toji quickly grabs megumi into a tight hold, while putting his head on top of megumis. although megumi has stoped crying (it was more from shock), he can see that his dad is still upset.
he knows how to help, because it works on him. megumi uses his small arms to wrap around toji’s head, trying to lift it up to see toji’s face.
toji’s not budging. megumi huffs “dada ‘ook.” toji sniffs one last time, looking at megumi with watery, red eyes.
megumi closes his eyes and starts. he starts the kiss assault on both of toji’s cheeks. although because he’s going so fast, it’s hard to actually say that they’re kisses. it’s more megumi having a sad pout while pushing his lips on toji’s cheeks.
and you can’t help but get cuteness aggression, pulling them both into your arms (making sure megumi is still mostly closer to toji), and exclaiming that “you’re both just so adorable!”
toji hasn’t moved since the lip assault on his face started, just wide eyed staring at his son.
then he just smiles, moving one of his arms from megumi to you, making an even tighter hug. such a sweet moment.
“ow!” oops, it might’ve been to tight for baby megumi!
it seems we’ve learned, toji fushiguro is a crier.
｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ
a/n: i’m trying to quickly write at least one thing for all the characters so i can start the masterlists, and each character can have something so i might spam post the first couple of days. thank you for reading, i love you (. .*)β
January 2013, 10:04 am. Karasuno High School Classroom 1-4, Miyagi Prefecture.
Fading Sunlight masterlist
A Hinata Shoyo x childhood best friend!reader timeline.
↳ A collection of things that have happened, between you and the boy who taught you how to fly.
@wowbyselene
For three days after Karasuno went to Tokyo and lost in the quarterfinals, Hinata had been kept inside to rest. When you had knocked on his door, his mom told you that he was still coughing too much to have visitors. You know that’s a lie, because it takes two hands to count the number of times you’ve gone over to play with him and come back with a cold the next morning. So you biked to school yourself, over the hills and through the fields, slower than usual because you no longer had to chase the sun.
On the fourth day, he arrives late, still wearing that mask. At least he’s back at school.
“Happy birthday,” he says to you. His voice is raspy, as if he’s lost it a few times. He places a damp package on your desk. It’s wrapped hastily in that morning’s newspaper, wet from melting snow.
You blink. In your worry for him, you had forgotten to keep track of time. Had it been 16 years already?
“Thanks, Sho.”
The wrapping is soggy enough that it falls apart in your hands. You hear the crinkle of plastic underneath, and a cellophane-wrapped pork floss bun falls into your lap, still fresh and warm from his pocket. Matsumoto Bakery is printed across it.
You unwrap the bun and break it in half. “Share it with me?”
He smiles, the fever-color still tinging pink around his nose and cheeks. “Yeah.”
It is late July, orchards have opened up to the public for early apple picking season, and you are now staring at your two boys trying to find the most perfect apple for you.
“This apple, daddy,” Megumi says, pointing to a dark, shiny red apple high up in the trees.
“That’s the one,” Toji asks, following the line of sight from his little baby finger.
Toji lifts him into the air, letting him reach out and grab the apple himself before dropping him back down to sit on his arm. Standing a few feet away, you watch as your husband fixes your baby’s collared shirt before smoothing down his wild hair while picking out tiny white flowers. Somehow, you managed to convince your husband to wear matching outfits, and it truly makes your heart flutter from the sight.
He looks up to find you, tilting his head as he sees the faintest glisten of a tear sliding down your cheek. A knowing smile plays on his lips, a look passes between the two of you, one filled with love and passion. Megumi inspects his choice, oblivious to everything else, and all you can do is try not to burst out into tears from the happiness your family gives you.
It really is the simple things for you.
“Whatcha doing over there mama,” he asks, looking you up and down in your pastel yellow sundress, unashamed as he checks out his wife.
You walk closer, a wicker basket full of ripe apples in hand, wiping a stray tear away with the back of your hand before Megumi could catch a glimpse of it. His hand slides past your waist, resting at the dip in your lower back, holding you close to the two of them.
“I picked this apple just for you mommy,” Megumi says, presenting the apple he chose.
“Why don’t we find out how good it really is, huh Gumi,” you say, taking the apple from him and bringing it up to your mouth.
You take a big bite, mouth flooding with the sweet taste of juice, savoring the freshness of the simple fruit. Before you can finish your bite, Toji places a soft kiss to your lips, licking away the mess, humming in satisfaction.
“Mmm, very sweet. Good job,” he agrees, bouncing Megumi up and down on his arm.
“Daddy, you have to actually taste it to know,” he says, rolling his eyes and huffing ever so slightly.
“Ugh, fine,” Toji replies, returning the attitude but when he turns to you, he’s smirking with content.
Toji takes a big bite, nodding his head, and restating the approval for Megumi’s choice in apples. Megumi watches the two of you, the brightest smiling pulling on his lips, one hand gripping his daddy’s shirt, the other planted firmly against your arm.
“You want a bite too, Gumi,” you ask, extending the apple towards him.
Placing your hand on his back, he takes the apple from your grasp and tries his hardest to take a big bite. You giggle softly, watching him enjoy his pick, memorizing this moment as the low summer sun casts his face in warm shadows while he’s wedged between the two of you.
“Mmm,” he hums, “so good mommy. Can I actually have this one instead?”
Toji bursts out in laughter, his fingers curling at your back to pull you closer towards him, and you can’t help but laugh harder too.
“Of course you can Gumi,” you say, placing a soft kiss on his chubby cheek, rubbing your hand up and down on his back.
Resting your head on Toji’s shoulder, you breathe in and out slowly, letting yourself enjoy the simplicity of your small family. He places a kiss on your hair, smelling all the familiar scents of you, before pulling away and plucking a baby pink flower from a tree.
He pushes your hair behind your ear, placing the flower there, and gives you a satisfied look.
“Don’t you think mama looks so pretty, huh Meg.”
Megumi’s eyes fall on you, the cutest smile spreading from cheek to cheek, his face bunching up in apple juice and baby fat.
“The prettiest mommy there is.”
This time, you can’t even care to stop your tears from falling.
│Masterlist│
𑣲Click HERE to fill out my taglist form or comment on THIS post
(Pregnant reader, 4 year old Megumi, suggestive, night time routine, so much fluff, domesticity, everyone’s happy)
Your home was a little quiet tonight but it was never truly quiet with a four-year-old running around all day and another baby growing steadily beneath your ribs, but softer. The yellow kitchen light looked warmer at night. The couch felt more lived in. The blankets smelled faintly like fabric softener and baby shampoo and Toji’s cologne mixed together. This time of the month it gets chilly in the night time.
You stood in front of the stove slowly stirring soup, one hand supporting the underside of your stomach while the other moved the spoon in lazy circles. Your back hurt in that dull, exhausting way it had started hurting every evening now. Not an unbearable pain but it just constant. Like your body was reminding you every second that it was doing something enormous for your little family.
Your baby shifted suddenly inside you and you let out a small breath, pressing your palm over the movement instinctively.
“Easy,” you mumbled quietly. “You’re already worse than your father.”
From the living room came the sound of cartoons and little feet thumping against the floor.
“Mama, look!”
Megumi came running toward you in mismatched pajamas, one sock half off his foot, holding up a drawing with both hands proudly. His dark hair stuck up in ten different directions from his bath earlier and his serious little expression looked so much like his father’s sometimes that it genuinely startled you.
You bent carefully to take the paper from him. It was mostly scribbles. A tall stick man. A smaller one.
“That’s daddy,” Megumi informed you seriously.
“I could tell.”
“And this is you.”
The round blob beside him had a huge stomach drawn onto it. You laughed so suddenly your eyes watered. Pregnancy had made you emotional in the strangest ways. Last week you cried because the grocery store ran out of the yogurt you liked. Two days ago you cried because Megumi kissed your cheek before preschool and said you he can’t wait to come back home and tell you about his day.
Now you were tearing up over a badly drawn stick figure. Megumi frowned immediately. “Mama?”
“No, baby, I’m okay.” You wiped under your eyes quickly, smiling. “I just love it.”
He looked suspicious for another second before accepting that answer.
“Daddy late again?”
Your chest sunk a little. “Yeah,” you said softly. “But he’ll be home soon.”
You miss your husband so much. Toji had been working almost nonstop lately. Gym trainer during the day. Private sessions in evenings. Repair jobs with an old friend on weekends. Anything extra he could pick up without completely killing himself. You hated it sometimes, seeing how exhausted he came home, seeing the shadows beneath his eyes deepen little by little, but every time you brought it up he only looked at you like the answer was obvious.
“You’re pregnant,” he had told you firmly just last week while helping fold laundry at midnight. “You’re staying home and resting. End of discussion.”
“I can still work, Toji.”
“You already are working.”
Then he had pressed his large hand against your stomach gently. “Making my kid sounds pretty exhausting to me.” You smiled to yourself remembering it.
Even now, after all these years, he still knew exactly how to make your heart fold into itself. Back in university you honestly thought you would kill each other someday.
Your relationship with Toji had started with arguments in crowded hallways, sarcastic remarks during lectures, him stealing your pens just to irritate you, and you yelling at him for never taking anything seriously. He had been impossible back then. Reckless. Difficult. Always smirking at the wrong moments with those sharp green eyes like he knew exactly how badly he affected people.
Especially you. And God, he was beautiful. He has always been beautiful though. Sometimes painfully so.
Even now, years later, after marriage and sleepless nights and bills and parenthood and ordinary domestic routines, he still had the ability to make you blush like you were ninteen again.
He was large in a way that filled spaces effortlessly. Tall, broad shoulders, heavy arms covered in veins and scars, lean muscle earned from years of hard work. Dark hair that always looked messy no matter what he did with it. Sharp eyes softened only for you and Megumi. A face that looked intimidating to everyone else but became impossibly gentle whenever he looked at his family.
Sometimes he came home exhausted, sweaty from work, hair damp and shirt clinging to his chest, and you still caught yourself staring at him like an idiot. Pregnancy had changed your body so much lately.
Your breasts felt heavy and sore constantly. Your ankles swelled if you stood too long. Your feet ached by evening. Your hair had started coming out in clumps during showers and every single time it happened you stared at the strands in your hand trying not to cry. It wasn’t like this during Megumi’s time.
Your stomach had rounded beautifully now at six months, though some days you only saw the weight gain, the stretch marks beginning near your hips, the exhaustion sitting permanently beneath your eyes.
Tonight you wore one of Toji’s favorite nightdresses. Soft cotton, pale cream colored, loose enough for your stomach, ending just above your knees. Really comfortable because that mattered more than anything lately.
The front door unlocked around ten thirty. Immediately Megumi lit up. “Dad!”
Heavy footsteps entered the apartment followed by the familiar sound of keys hitting the bowl near the entrance. Then Toji appeared.
Black compression shirt stretched tight across his chest, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, gym bag slung over one shoulder. He looked exhausted. Completely exhausted. But the second his eyes landed on you and Megumi, his entire face softened.
Like home had finally found him again. Megumi launched himself at him instantly and Toji caught him easily with one arm.
“Hey,” he muttered, kissing the side of his son’s head.
Then his gaze shifted to you standing near the kitchen. And there it was. That look. Like he still couldn’t believe you said “yes”.
“You’re still awake.”
“And you’re late!”
“Had another client.”
You frowned immediately. “Toji.”
“What?” he said innocently while setting Megumi down. “I’m fine.” You walked toward him slowly and immediately his hands settled on your waist out of instinct, large palms warm through the thin fabric of your nightdress.
“You look tired.”
“So do you.”
“That’s completely different baby.”
He snorted quietly before leaning down to kiss your forehead first. Then your temple. Then your cheek. Small, familiar affections from your dear husband. His hand slid over your stomach gently.
“How’s my girl been?”
The baby kicked almost immediately beneath his touch and Toji laughed softly under his breath.
“There she is.” Your chest hurt suddenly with love. It happened often lately. You loved him so much it genuinely became overwhelming sometimes.
Then his eyes narrowed toward the stove.
“You waited for me to eat again?” You looked away immediately.
“I-…”
“Baby.” His voice dropped softer now. “I told you not to do that.”
“I wasn’t hungry yet.”
“That’s bullshit.”
Megumi chose that exact moment to loudly announce, “Mama cried over my drawing.” You gasped. “Megumi!”
Toji looked at you instantly. “Why were you crying?”
“I was not crying.”
“You definitely were.”
Pregnancy had destroyed your ability to lie convincingly. Toji sighed softly, rubbing your side affectionately. “You gotta stop waiting for me all the time.”
“But I like eating with you.”
His expression changed immediately after that. Softened completely. God, you still had no defense against that look.
“C’mere,” he murmured.
He pulled you against him carefully despite your stomach and kissed the top of your head while one hand rubbed slow circles against your lower back.
“I’m sorry I’m late.” Dinner became your favorite part of the night lately. Megumi talking endlessly about preschool. Toji listening while half dead tired. You serving food while Toji repeatedly told you to sit down before he physically made you. Little domestic conversations about groceries and school forms and whether there was enough milk for tomorrow morning.
After dinner, despite your protests, Toji rolled up his sleeves and did the dishes.
Like always. “You cooked,” he said simply when you tried arguing. “Go sit down.”
So you sat at the kitchen counter watching him quietly. His forearms flexed beneath warm water. Dark tattoos disappearing beneath rolled sleeves. Wet hair falling into his eyes while Megumi sat nearby coloring messily.
This was your life now. Not glamorous. Not perfect but warm instead. Later you helped Megumi prepare for tomorrow. Tiny lunchbox packed carefully together while Toji checked his school bag. Arguing over breakfast plans. Megumi insisting he wanted dinosaur shaped pancakes again.
“You’re spoiling him,” you told Toji.
“He’s literally four.”
“And dramatic.”
“He got that from you.”
You glared while Toji grinned unapologetically. By midnight Megumi was finally asleep. Your home dimmed into silence after that.
Laundry sat unfolded beside you both on the couch while some random late-night show played quietly in the background. You folded tiny shirts while resting your swollen feet in Toji’s lap. Every now and then he massaged your ankle absentmindedly while sorting clothes.
You watched him quietly. Still handsome enough to make your stomach flutter. Still yours.
“You want something mama?” he asked without looking up.
“No.”
“Liar.”
You smiled sleepily. “You’ve changed a lot.” That made him shift his attention towards you. His eyes lifted toward you slowly.
“What brought that on?”
“You used to be terrible.”
“I’m still terrible.”
“You stole my notes in university because you thought annoying me was funny.”
“It was funny.”
“You picked fights with me every single day.”
“You were cute when angry, well you still are ngl.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. Then your expression softened. “You’re a good husband, Toji.”
Something unreadable crossed his face then. You could feel him getting shy. Which still shocked you because this was Toji. The same man who once acted like vulnerability would physically kill him.
“You make it easy,” he said finally. Pregnancy hormones were going to kill you. That night around three in the morning, you woke up uncomfortable again. Your back hurt. Your stomach felt too bloated. And for some reason, you suddenly wanted to cry.
You shifted carefully beside him and immediately Toji stirred awake. Years together had made him sensitive to every tiny change in you.
“What’s wrong?” he mumbled sleepily.
“I dunno.”
“Baby.”
Your lip trembled embarrassingly. “My feet hurt.” He was awake instantly after that. Within minutes you sat between his spread legs while he leaned against the headboard shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, one large hand rubbing lotion carefully into your swollen feet.
The lamp beside the bed cast warm gold across his skin. You looked down at your stomach sadly. “I feel huge.” Toji glanced up immediately. “My hair keeps falling out.”
“You look even prettier now.”
“I don’t feel pretty.”
He frowned at that. Like the idea offended him personally. Toji shifted forward, pulling you gently into his lap despite your protests. One arm wrapped around your stomach carefully while the other brushed through your messy hair slowly.
“You know what I see?” he murmured against your temple. You stayed quiet.
“The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen carrying my baby.” Your eyes burned instantly. He kissed your forehead softly. Then your cheeks. Then beneath your eyes.
“You’re doing all this hard shit every day and still taking care of us.” His hand rubbed your stomach slowly. “You think I don’t notice?”
You leaned into him weakly. His fingers continued moving through your hair patiently. “I love you,” he whispered sleepily against your forehead.
These were words. But after eight years together, they somehow meant more now than they ever had before.
Outside, the city remained dark and quiet. Inside your home, laundry still sat partially unfolded on the couch, tomorrow’s lunchbox waited in the fridge, tiny shoes rested near the doorway, and your husband held you against his chest like loving you was the most natural thing in the world.
;; boyfriend!hinata tracking the exact angle of the afternoon sun hitting your bedroom bed just so he can drag the mattress straight onto the floor, pulling you down into the warm patch of light with him like a giant, golden lizard. he’ll tangle his legs with yours, bury his face in your hair, and just sigh against your skin until the sun goes down, completely content to waste a whole training day if it means absorbing your warmth.
;; boyfriend!hinata having this incredibly specific habit of testing his finger calluses against the softest parts of your skin. you’ll be sitting at the kitchen island and he’ll come up behind you, his hands—rough and hardened from years of slamming against volleyballs—tracing the sensitive curve of your inner wrist or the skin just under your jaw. he does it so gently, a contrast that makes your stomach flip because he knows exactly how much power those hands hold, yet they’re entirely soft for you.
;; boyfriend!hinata speaking to you in a sleepy, unbothered mix of japanese and portuguese when he’s waking up. his voice is a full octave lower in the mornings, a raspy, thick murmur against your bare shoulder as he pulls you flush against his chest. he’ll call you ‘minha vida’ while sleepily biting at your shoulder blade, his grip tightening around your waist.
;; boyfriend!hinata being completely obsessed with laundry day, specifically because he loves the routine of it. you’ll find him sitting on the floor surrounded by clean sheets, casually tossing one of his oversized practice jerseys over your head while you’re walking past. he loves seeing you swallowd whole by his clothes, especially when he catches you later sniffing the collar because it smells like his citrus deodorant. he’ll just smirk, pull you by the hem of the shirt onto his lap, and whisper something terribly cocky about how good you look wearing his name.
;; boyfriend!hinata using his insane athletic reflexes for the absolute dumbest, most affectionate things. if you trip over a rug, he catches you by the waist, spins you in the air, and presses you flat against the nearest wall, laughing that bright, breathless laugh of his. his face will be inches from yours, his chest heaving slightly, his eyes dropping to your lips with a sudden, heavy intensity that reminds you he isn’t a kid anymore.
;; boyfriend!hinata taking care of your skin after a long day at the beach. he gets so meticulous about it, making you sit between his knees while he carefully rubs cooling aloe or coconut lotion into your shoulders. his thumb will track the line of your tan lines, his touch slowing down, growing heavier and more deliberate until the room feels a little too warm, his breath fanning hot against the back of your neck as he whispers praises about how beautiful your body looks under the sun.
;; boyfriend!hinata’s absolute favorite way to tease you during his off-season. he’ll be sitting on the sofa playing a game on his phone, and he’ll casually pull you down so you’re straddling his lap, using you as a literal armrest. he acts completely nonchalant, talking to you normally while his large hands slide under the hem of your shorts, his thumbs tracing lazy circles on your thighs. he won’t even look up from his screen, but the hot, possessive squeeze he gives your hip every time you try to move away lets you know exactly where his attention really is.
;; boyfriend!hinata being completely incapable of keeping his hands to himself the second you step foot onto a crowded bus. he’ll pull you into the small space between his chest and the door, shielding you from the crowd with his broad shoulders while the bus sways. with one hand gripping the overhead strap, his free hand slides down to cup the back of your thigh, his fingers squeezing firmly through your pants. he’ll lean down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he murmurs—low and raspy over the roar of the engine—about how good you smell, completely intoxicated by the mix of your perfume and the heat of the afternoon.
;; boyfriend!hinata turning a simple evening walk along the secluded edge of the beach into something entirely different. he’ll drag you into the shadow of a dark lifeguard tower, pinning your lower back against the cool wooden stilts. while the sound of the crashing waves hides your gasps, he’ll bury his face entirely in the crook of your neck, inhaling you like he’s starving. his hands will slide under your top, his rough palms dragging hot over your ribs, and he’ll growl softly against your skin about how he can taste the salt on you, demanding you tell him how much you love him before he kisses you again without even letting you catch your breath.
;; boyfriend!hinata using his knowledge of launguages on dirty talking to completely break your brain when you’re in bed. he’s so loud and unbothered normally, but in the dark, his praise becomes this heavy, suffocating thing. he’ll pin your wrists above your head with just one hand, hovering over you with those dark, hyper-focused eyes, and he’ll praise you for every little sound you make. “sim, precisely like that, look at how well you’re taking me,” he’ll mutter in a breathless rush of portuguese and japanese, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper against your lips as he tells you how beautiful you look when you’re completely undone for him.
;; boyfriend!hinata’s feral habit of scent-marking you right before he leaves for an away tournament. he’ll trap you on the bed, his heavy body pinning yours down as he spends an entire hour just rubbing his jaw along your collarbone, biting gently at your shoulder blades, and leaving hot, wet kisses along your pulse point until you smell completely like him. if you try to squirm, he’ll just tighten his grip, his thighs locking yours in place, whispering praises about how good of a girl you are for letting him take his time with you.
;; boyfriend!hinata taking a massive risk at a crowded post-match afterparty. he’ll pull you into a dimly lit hallway just around the corner from the main room where his teammates are laughing loudly. he’ll press you against the wall, lifting you up by your thighs so your legs are wrapped around his waist. you can hear the bass thumping through the wall and people walking past the entrance, but hinata just smirks, his thumb wiping a tear of overstimulation from your cheek as he whispers, “shh, be quiet, you don’t wanna let them hear how good i make you feel. right, minha vida?”
;; boyfriend!hinata tracking your cycle or just knowing when your body temperature runs hot, entirely driven by his sense of smell. he’ll walk into the apartment after a grueling six-hour practice, drop his gear bag on the floor, and immediately track you down to wherever you’re sitting. before you can even say welcome home, he’s gently parting your thighs on the chair, burying his face directly into the heat of the soft dip of your inner thigh through your underwear. he’ll take a long, dragging inhale of your scent, his pupils completely blown as he groans against your bare skin, his large hands reaching under your top to grip your waist hard enough to leave faint marks, telling you exactly how ruined the bed is about to be.
;; boyfriend!hinata taking advantage of a completely empty, sun-drenched locker room after everyone else has left the training facility. he’ll lock the heavy door from the inside, trap you against the cold metal of his locker, and pull your shorts down to your knees in one rough, impatient motion. with the distinct smell of fresh sweat, laundry detergent, and leather volleyballs filling the air, he’ll lift your leg over his hip and drive into you right there, the sudden, thick friction making you scream into his shoulder. he’ll instantly choke off your voice with a wet, bruising kiss, his hips slamming into yours with that terrifying, rhythmic endurance while he mutters breathless, filthiest praises into your mouth—“take it all, look at how tight you are for me. you like that everyone's right outside, huh, sweetheart?” he’ll grab your face, forcing you to look at him, “look at me while i fuck you senseless, meu amor.”
n: everyone on discord kept distracting me. but i did get their opinions on this one. it was my twin’s idea for the scent marking, shout ot freaky twin.
Baby!Yuji realizing his resemblance to dad!Sukuna.
°❀.࿔*⋆⭒˚｡⋆°❀.࿔*⋆⭒˚｡⋆°❀.࿔*⋆⭒˚｡⋆°❀.࿔*⋆⭒˚｡⋆°❀.࿔
You noticed that six-year-old Yuji had been looking in the mirror a lot lately. He was constantly studying his face and playing with his hair. As he did the exact same thing right now, a fond smile touched your lips. You walked up behind him, resting your hands gently on his small shoulders.
"Looks like someone really loves looking in the mirror."
He turned to you and smiled.
"Mommy! I look like Daddy!" he said.
"Ah, so that's why. You were discovering how much you look like your dad."
"Look, my eyes and my hair... just like his!"
His excitement made you giggle. You ruffled his hair and kissed his rosy cheeks.
"Yes, baby. You're a mini version of your dad."
Lately, everyone who saw him kept saying how much he looked like his father. The boy had heard it so many times that he actually started to notice the resemblance himself.
When Sukuna walked into the room, Yuji shared his discovery with him too.
"Daddy, look at me!"
He widened his tiny eyes as if to prove it and pointed at his pink hair.
"Look, we're exactly the same!"
A small, smug smile appeared on Sukuna’s face.
"You're your father's son, kid."
Hearing his dad's words, Yuji's face lit up. But then, a sudden thought about you seemed to cross his little mind.
"I don’t look like Mama."
You pouted slightly.
"You didn’t have to say that right to my face, Yuji."
Sukuna let out a short chuckle, a lazy, playful smirk on his lips.
"Sorry about that," he murmured. "My genes are just a bit too stubborn."
You rolled your eyes.
Encouraged by his dad's laughter, the little boy turned back to the mirror with a proud grin.
"My lips, my nose... all Daddy!"
You let out a soft laugh.
"Yeah... You really do look like your dad."
"I didn’t know you loved your father quite this much," Sukuna teased, a hint of deep amusement in his voice.
Yuji hugged Sukuna's legs tightly and looked up at him.
"I love my daddy sooo much!"
Sukuna ran his hand through Yuji's pink hair, ruffling it gently.
tōru tries to soft launch you to his team, but they’re too curious to let it pass.
wc: 1.6k, happy birthday to me hueheuehe
oikawa was holding a pastel pink gel pen with a tiny, slightly chewed silicone cat head on the cap. in a grueling post-practice strategy meeting where iwaizumi was violently threat-modeling their next opponent on the whiteboard, oikawa casually twirled the cat pen between his long fingers, sighing with the dramatic weight of a victorian widow.
“someone left this in my gym bag,” oikawa sighed, his voice dripping with an artificial, sweet exhaustion, pitching it perfectly so the entire bench could hear. “she’s so careless. always leaving her little trinkets in my space. i tell her, ‘tōru’s bag is for volleyball essentials only,’ but does she listen? no. she just smiles that stupidly pretty smile and ruins my aesthetic.”
iwaizumi didn’t even look up from his marker. “shut up and stop stealing stationary from middle schoolers.”
“she’s not a middle schooler, iwa-chan! she’s an angel who happens to have impeccable taste in gel pens!” oikawa huffed, crossing his arms and waiting. he waited for the questions. he waited for the “eh? oikawa, do you have a girlfriend?” so he could smugly deny it, then drop another hint, spinning a web of mystery so complex it would rival a psychological thriller.
he wanted them to suffer through the agonizing riddle of who had managed to tame aoba johsai’s grand king. he wanted to breadcrumb them until they practically begged for her identity.
except, oikawa underestimated two things: his own complete inability to be subtle, and how aggressively observant matsukawa and hanamaki actually were when they wanted to cause problems.
two days later, oikawa was aggressively hydrating during a water break, eyes darting around the gym floor like a hawk. he cleared his throat, loud and completely unprompted. “my shoulders are so tight today. someone spent three hours braiding my hair last night while we watched retro horror movies, and i had to sit perfectly still on the floor so i wouldn’t mess up her sectioning. the things i do for love. truly, i’m a martyr.”
hanamaki paused, mid-stretch. he exchanged a slow, lethal look with matsuhiro.
“retro horror?” matsuhiro asked, tapping his chin. “like that vintage 80s slasher flick that only the indie theater downtown is showing this week?”
oikawa’s eyes lit up. the trap was set. “why, yes, mattsun! how did you guess? she’s quite the cinephile.”
“right,” hanamaki chimed in, a slow, terrifying smirk spreading across his face. “and the pink cat pen from tuesday. and the fact that you’ve suddenly stopped eating those terrible convenience store melon pans because someone’s baking you fresh strawberry tarts every thursday morning.”
“and,” matsuhiro added, leaning forward, “the fact that the girl from class 5 has been wearing an oversized aoba johsai volleyball hoodie all week—the one with the tiny snag on the left elbow. the exact snag you cried about three weeks ago.”
oikawa’s water bottle slipped from his hands, clattering against the polished gym floor. a puddle formed around his sneakers. his entire world view tilted on its axis.
“you…” oikawa choked out, clutching his chest as if he’d been struck by a physical arrow. “you know?”
“oikawa, a blind man could have connected those dots,” iwaizumi yelled from across the net. “you literally called her ‘my sweet little raspberry’ into your phone yesterday while the microphone was still connected to the gym’s bluetooth speaker!”
“i did not—that was an affectionate pet name spoken in confidence!” oikawa’s face turned a violent, sunburned shade of crimson. his master plan of psychological warfare was ruined. they weren’t mystified. they weren’t begging for answers. they had already solved the puzzle, framed it, and hung it on the wall.
but it got worse. infinitely worse.
because oikawa was not just a little bit in love. he was a puddle of melted ice cream on a hot sidewalk whenever you so much as breathed in his direction. his love for you was a physical weight, something he carried around like a golden trophy he wanted to shove into everyone’s faces, yet simultaneously lock away in a vault where no one else could even look at it. he wanted the world to know he was yours, but he hadn’t prepared for the world to actually like you back.
the following friday, you finally showed up to practice to drop off his forgotten knee pads.
oikawa had prepared himself to swoop in, catch you in his arms, and put on a display of boyfriend superiority that would strike fear into the hearts of his teammates. he wanted them to see how utterly whipped he was, but in a way that made him look like a benevolent ruler showing off his queen.
instead, the moment you stepped through the heavy metal gym doors, clutching the plastic grocery bag, you didn’t even make it three steps before hanamaki intercepted you.
“ah! the legendary tart baker!” hanamaki beamed, bowing with a level of respect he had never once shown his captain. “please tell me those are strawberry in the bag. if you ever need a replacement boyfriend who actually understands boundaries and doesn’t complain about hair braiding, my schedule is completely open.”
“makki!” oikawa shrieked, sprinting across the court so fast his sneakers shrieked against the floor. “get away from her! don’t look at her! your aura is too negative for her pure soul!”
you laughed, a bright, melodic sound that instantly turned oikawa’s knees to jelly. you handed the bag to hanamaki with a warm smile. “there’s actually a few lemon bars in there too. tōru mentioned you guys were working hard this week.”
mattsun materialized from the shadows like a tall, lanky demon, snatching a lemon bar with lightning speed. “you’re a saint. an absolute deity. how do you survive living in the same radius as his ego? if you ever need someone to walk you home who won’t spend forty minutes checking his reflection in shop windows, i’m your guy.”
“mattsun! i’ll bench you! i’ll destroy your lineage!” oikawa scrambled to put himself between you and his teammates, his long arms flailing as he tried to shield you from their sudden, aggressive adoration. he grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, burying his face into the crook of your neck with a desperate, whining whimper. “don’t listen to them, sweet girl. they’re vultures. they’re trying to steal my joy.”
you reached up, your fingers sliding naturally into the soft, brown curls at the back of his neck, gently scratching his scalp. the contrast between your small, gentle hands and his massive, athletic frame was enough to make a bystander faint from the romance of it. “they’re just being nice, tōru. you have lovely friends.”
“they aren’t being nice, they’re flirting! they’re actively courting my woman right in front of my face!” he wailed, tightening his grip around your waist until he was practically lifting you off your feet. he was inhaling the scent of your shampoo like a man dying of thirst in a desert. he was so desperately, absurdly consumed by you that even a friendly joke from his friends felt like an international crisis.
iwaizumi walked over, casually kicking oikawa’s shin. “let her breathe, you idiot. you’re suffocating her.”
“i’m holding her close because she’s my gravity, iwa-chan! if i let go, she might float away to a better school with a better volleyball captain!”
“honestly, shiratorizawa has a much nicer campus,” mattsun muttered around a mouthful of lemon bar.
oikawa’s eyes went wide with genuine horror. he looked down at you, his lower lip trembling with a level of dramatic flair that belonged in an opera house, yet his eyes were so intensely, deeply sincere it made your heart skip a beat. he looked like a giant, pathetic puppy who had just been told the park was closed forever.
“you wouldn’t leave me for ushijima, right?” he whispered, his voice cracking with a terrifyingly real vulnerability. “he doesn’t even know how to braid hair. his hands are like bricks. he’d ruin your sections. i’m the only one who can do it perfectly for you.”
you leaned up on your tiptoes, pressing a soft, lingering kiss right against his pouty lips. the entire gym went dead silent. hanamaki choked on his pastry. iwaizumi actually looked away out of secondhand embarrassment from how quickly oikawa completely dissolved under your touch.
oikawa’s eyes fluttered shut, his entire body going limp against you as he melted into the kiss, his hands trembling slightly where they rested on your hips. when you pulled back, he looked utterly dizzy, drunk on the simple reality that you chose him, every single day, despite how incredibly high-maintenance he was.
“i like my hair exactly how you do it,” you said softly, your voice a soothing balm to his frayed, possessive nerves. “and no one else gets the strawberry tarts.”
oikawa let out a sound that was half-sob, half-triumphant cheer. he threw his head back, glaring at his team with a smug, teary-eyed gring that practically screamed victory. “hear that? she loves me! she thinks you all are garbage! get your own bakers, you pathetic singletons!”
“she didn’t say any of that, shittykawa.” iwaizumi groaned, rubbing his temples. “alright, practice is over. get this lovesick dumbass out of my sight before i throw a volleyball at his annoyingly stupid face.”
as oikawa happily escorted you out of the gym, his arm glued securely around your shoulders, he kept glancing down at you every three seconds just to ensure you hadn’t magically vanished. he was unapologetically ruined by you, and as he tightly held your hand in the cool evening air, he made a mental note to never, ever drop hints again.
from now on, he was keeping you entirely to himself—even if he had to fight his entire team to do it. dear god, he was so in love with you.
n: i’m eternally grateful to each and everyone of you. thank you so much, everyone !! this is one of the best birthdays i’ve ever had :3
every single time you bend down in front of him he smacks your ass like it’s a reflex. like a doctor hitting your knee with that little hammer. he genuinely doesn’t even realize he’s doing it anymore.
when you take off your shirt he hollers, “BOOBIES!” loud enough for half of the cleaner hq to hear. rudo once dropped a wrench because of it.
he got a pic of you in his pocket where you sleep with your mouth wide open, double chin included. he proudly shows it EVERYONE.
calls you baby in increasingly stupid variations. sugarbaby. babycakes. babygirl. babybel cheese. babesaurus rex.
absolutely the type to fake dramatic injuries for attention. “aughhh… my heart…” — “what happened?” — “you looked too pretty.”
if you ignore him for more than ten minutes he starts escalating. first it’s whining. then poking. then laying on top of you like a weighted blanket. “hello? hello? customer service? my girlfriend stopped loving me.”
he cannot flirt normally. ever. he points at you and goes, “that one’s mine btw,” like he found a cool rock.
one time he tried to kiss you smoothly and accidentally headbutted you hard enough to make both of you see stars.
obsessed with making you laugh. if you laugh so hard you snort, he acts like he just won the lottery.
if you’re cooking he WILL appear behind you and steal food straight from the pan while acting offended when you hit his hand away. “wow. abuse. in my own home.”
absolutely the kind of boyfriend who starts fake beef with inanimate objects for hurting you.“this table got one more time to hit my girl before i square up.”
loves putting his cold hands on your skin just to hear you shriek.
kisses you mid-sentence. not romantically either. fully to shut you up because he thinks it’s funny.
every time you wear something slightly revealing he malfunctions, in a “walking into walls because he’s staring” way.
would 100% yell “THAT’S MY WIFE!” over the smallest accomplishments. you parallel parked successfully? THAT’S MY WIFE!!!!
he treats your bra like a deadly ancient artifact whenever you ask him to unclasp it. “okay wait. hold on. i almost got it. why’s this built like a fucking escape room?”
once tried to carry you bridal style to be romantic. immediately dropped you both onto the couch because he tripped over absolutely nothing. another time he knocked you out on the doorframe.
if you’re shorter than him he rests his chin on your head constantly. if you’re taller than him he still tries. the posture is horrendous.
shamelessly fishes for compliments. “babe do i look sexy today?” — “you’re wearing one sock and my shirt?” — “answer the question.”
he sees you naked and suddenly turns into the loudest man alive. “WOOOOOOO!!!!” then rips his shirt off like in the werewolf meme.
genuinely thinks couple arguments can be solved with snacks and cuddles. “okay but what if we held hands and got noodles instead?”
After the fight with Jabber in the aberrant beast, Zanka just wants you to take care of him.
Your hands moved nimbly as you took notes, adjusted the IV drip, and changed Zanka's bandages. He sat up in bed, looking tired.
His hair was disheveled from lying down so long, and every now and then he shifted, trying to stretch, but pain shot through his body.
"Please don't move," you said in that gentle voice that made Zanka blush. You adjusted the bandage on his stomach, just above his wound, and the touch of your soft fingers sent a shiver down his spine. "How are you feeling?" you asked, sitting down across from him. The bed dipped slightly under your weight.
Zanka swallowed hard; his mouth was dry, as it always was when he had to talk to you.
"Sore," he said simply.
You nodded and rubbed your hands in your lap. Zanka watched you out of the corner of his eye. His heart was pounding at your proximity. You were sitting there, doing nothing, and looking so beautiful.
You tried to stand, but Zanka took one of your wrists. His grip was firm but gentle. When you turned to look at him, his eyes shone with such intensity.
"Is something wrong?" you asked sincerely. Zanka shifted again, but the movement brought you both dangerously close. When he looked at you again, the first thing that caught his attention were your beautiful eyes. His grip on your wrist loosened and slid to your cheek.
He gently stroked your face, and you rested it on his hand. His ears turned bright red, but he didn't pull away.
Instead, he moved even closer.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours.
"It must be the poison; it's making you hallucinate."
"Nah, I'm perfectly fine."
With that, he closed the distance with a kiss. He could feel his heart about to leap from his throat, but the mere thought of having you so close made him forget it.
Your lips were so soft and tasted like strawberries thanks to that lip gloss you often wore. He didn't want to pull away, but the lack of air was starting to set in.
When you separated, he was surprised to see you rest your forehead against his. Your lips looked pinker than usual because of the previous action, and he couldn't help but caress them with his thumb.
"I think you feel better," you said with a smile, and he hid his embarrassment in the crook of your neck, wishing this moment would never end.
sfw drabble, sukuna vv much loves you (ironic lol), fluff, highk ooc but cmon we need a to be a lil delusional in our life <3
he’s a hypocrite.
“‘kuna! look at those cuties!” you pointed at the jumping toads while holding onto your husband’s arm, shaking it; as the other held your waist, and the rest on his left. “oh they’re wonderful!” you let a giggle out as he focused his gaze on yours. not a single eye on anything else. it’s simply unbelievable and everyone talks about it. how did he, get such a sweet beautiful woman as her to be his wife. or how did you, the sweetest person anyone could ever describe, get the king of curses to be running for your very own heart. “don’t you think so?”
he didn’t respond, just a simple hum. agreeing or disagreeing, it doesn’t really matter. all he wanted to hear was you talking anyways. the two of you strolled through the garden that he had formed for you; and sacredly only for you. picked every flower that he knows you’d like, and designed it to be formed exactly how you’d love it. and those who dares to walk through this very garden, would not be heard nor seen that same day.
as ever since you, noone could came close into having his affection. almost like a cheaply made folklore romance story. the two of you crossed the bridge of the makeshift river that he carved into the sea. “you’ve made all of this for me?” your smile impaled him more than anything that ever touched him, “only the best, for you.” he said with a little more than just pride. “that’s so so sweet of you!” you took a small jump on the side to hug around his shoulder placing your left cheek across his, where he catched you easily by your waist.
he wouldn’t say it, but this is what he does to show love to you.
ᢉ𐭩 fem!reader, nephew!yuji worries about you when you and unckuna have an argument
it was a friday afternoon, and you were tired of sukuna never listening to your words. you curled into yourself, desperate for warmth in your cold and lonely bed, with the silent house. something was wrong.
the door creaked open just a smidge, and tiny footsteps came in, along with soft sniffles and hiccups that came from what sounded like to be yuji.
when you looked down with your eyebrows furrowed, all of your irritation was driven away when a tear-stained yuji stood by the side of your bed. you could almost feel your heart breaking into millions of pieces as he gazed up at you with a pout, with his glossy eyes and with his hands that grabbed the covers.
“oh, yuji,” you cooed, then you picked him up by the armpits and sat him on your lap, “what’s wrong, baby?”
you could hardly hear his voice over his sobs, “do you- hic- not love hic- kuna anymwore?”
you wiped at his tears, “i still love him, yuji, we just need a couple of hours away from each other, you shouldn’t be worried about this stuff.”
“please don’t leave us! i’ll- i’ll miss you, and- hic- kuna looks at photos of you like-like all the time! you’re on his phone and he talks to me about you even though he- hic- told me not to tell you!” he wailed.
he babbled on and on, snot and tears soaked your shirt as he gripped the cloth in his little fists like he was scared you’d leave. it isn’t until you placed a small, reassuring kiss on his forehead that his sobs softened to sniffles.
“i’m not leaving you two, okay?” you whispered, then focused his glossy brown eyes.
he whimpered and nodded, but his head snapped toward the bedroom door when it creaked open. his little eyebrows furrowed as he clung on tighter to you when he saw sukuna in the doorway.
“no!” yuji exclaimed as sukuna began to step closer, then held an arm out to somehow protect you, “you made her sad!”
“that’s why i’m here to apologize, brat. leave so i can do this in private.” he argued, then rolled his eyes as he sat down on the bed next to you.
yuji grumbled and pushed him with all his might, but to no avail. “go away!” he shouted. sukuna only laughed, then gently pushed yuji as he toppled onto you.
but during a moment of silence, yuji still held onto you, then embraced you into a tiny but tight hug, and he still frowned at sukuna, while he tried his best to intimidate him.
“i didn’t mean what i said,” he mumbled, as he ashamedly looked down at the sheets, “i’m an asshole, i know that. but i’m trying to be better for you… and for this little runt here too.” he ruffled yuji’s messy hair, who huffed in protest. sukuna continued, “i’m sorry. i’ll be more considerate of your words next time,” he caressed your soft hand in his tattooed one.
yuji slowly looked back up at you with red around his eyes, “does this mean we can still have movie fridays after school?”he whispered.
“yes,” you smiled, “thank you for apologizing, kuna,” you murmured, “i love you.”
he reciprocated the words, and when you two left a kiss on each other’s lips, yuji let out a little ‘yuck!’ with a soft giggle.
suddenly, like a little boy his age who couldn’t focus on anything for more than five minutes, he ran out of the room and yelled, “i’m picking the movie!”
hope u guys like this! gonna work on another kuna requests… maybe hybrid tiger kuna
pls send in requests
trying to do more past tense, tell me if there’s any grammar mistakes besides capitalization
