[trafalgarloves]

mj , she/her , twenty two , cancer , multistan side blog ♡ not spoiler free sometimes nsfw

[thefallofruins]

He is going to get bored of you, Sukuna was of that belief.

No one had lasted for as long as you had in holding the amusement of the king of curses. It often ended messily when Sukuna grew bored of someone. But he can’t, with you. Not when you…

“This is so pretty…!” You twirl around a bit to admire the back of the kimono, the beautiful colours and patterns only enhancing your beauty. Sukuna had no business with clothing— let alone clothing for women, but when the kimono displayed had caught his eye, the first thought in his mind was you.

“And you got this for me?” The question strikes a nerve in him, of course he did…but he cannot comprehend why.

“You were in dire need of proper clothing,” he responds, eyes studying just how beautiful his brat could possibly get. You pout in response. It was classic Sukuna behaviour, you couldn’t possibly get him to admit the intent behind his actions.

“But it does suit you well.” The words cause a smile to light up on your face, as you take a few steps towards him, hands finding his.

“Kuna?” You tiptoe, holding onto his strong hands for support, allowing you to press a kiss to his jaw. “Thank you.”

His lips twitch in response, slightly unsatisfied with the show of affection, he pulls you closer by your waist, growling softly, “Least you can do is thank me properly.”

Your giggle sends another wave of this unknown yet warm feeling within him, as you reach up to him on your tippy toes, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you, my love.”

My love. My love…he wishes to hear those words again and again, a sweet, honeyed voice so filled with love calling him that. His lips form into a small smile as you return to admire yourself in the mirror once again.

Unfortunately for him, he’s far from bored. Eyes lingering onto your form and taking in every reaction of yours.

And you? Don’t act surprised if you will be showered with pretty silks regularly in the following days.

[nkogneatho]

i was thinking about gojo in his 40s. the white hair never losing it's shine because he uses expensive hair care. but no money can hide the aging. which is why there's a faint hint of wrinkles appearing near his eyes, his hands rougher than usual when they caress your waist. how you tiptoe your way to give him a peck and you feels his white stubble graze your cheeks. after all these years, he is still an eye candy. his fashion sense never dropped. he decorates himself in most luxurious suits and casuals. although his taste in cologne has changed. he prefers more earthy or woody scent than metallic ones. he looks his age, no doubt. but he has maintained himself in such a way that even after 12 years later, he still manages to take breaths away with his appearance and mannerisms. he is more mature now (funny how the 28 year old him wasn't) but you know the kid inside you never dies so he pulls occasional pranks on his students.

his voice is a little hoarse now but it still turns soft when he speaks to you. demeanor more cold now but his eyes still perks up when he sees you. and when you embrace him in your arms, he feels home. not a care in the world. like he is eighteen again, falling in love for the first time.

[zorosdimples-archived]

i keep thinking about 40-year-old law.

his jet hair has whorls of white—glimmering sea salt deposits—and is cropped, neatly kept. simple, gold-rimmed glasses perch on his tawny nose at all times (no doubt from countless late nights in his office, amber eyes straining over medical books and paperwork).

he gets his tattoos touched up regularly so they don’t fade, and while he wears more shirts than he did in his youth, they remain half-buttoned, swirls of ink always on display. he quit his nasty smoking habit years ago, but he continues to drink more caffeine than he should—it’s probably why he stays so lean.

as for his heart? it’s still beating steadily, if not a little quickly, thanks in part to you. shachi and penguin give him a hard time for “going soft,” but if law has learned anything during your time together, it’s that vulnerability isn’t weakness.

cora-san would be proud of the man he has become.

[touyas-moon]

Suguru’s jawline, neck, gauges, ear, hair tendrils, bangs…. Need I say more?

[chilichopsticks]

I feel the sudden urge to bite my screen till it cracks

[cuteness--overload]

[peachsayshi]

sukuna is sitting under a tree, his eyes observing his son whose running towards him. he's calling out to his father, his feet tinted green from the grass.

"look!" his son squeaks as he approaches the monster king. "it hurt!"

sukuna arches his brow and looks down at his son. his hair is pinker underneath the sunlight, his cheeks tinted in a rosy flush. his palms are open and inside is a butterfly, its wing broken.

"looks like it," sukuna responds quite matter of factly, bringing one large hand to massage the top of his son's head.

his son pouts, and looks down at his hands again in disbelief. "but it can't fly..." he says, his voice so tiny and sad.

"no," his father confirms coldly, "it can't."

there's a slump in his small shoulders, and his son gazes back up at him from underneath his lashes. his big eyes watering slightly, his nose scrunching in a little sniffle. "can uruame fix it?"

the cursed king's heart sinks. parts of you mirrored in his child's reflection.

he has no patience for humans, except the ones that the's claimed as his own. it doesn't matter if he think it's stupid. that uruame shouldn't waste their time on something as trivial at this. but whatever his little prince wants, he will get. so, he scoops his son up in one arm, watching as his own blood cradling the small butterfly in his hands.

he kisses the top of his head, "let's ask and see..."

[yunymphs]

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔... didn't mean to make his daughter cry.

your daughter clings to your left leg, hiding her little head in the empty crease of your clothed leg behind your knee. your husband's face drops, eyebrows crinkling in pain at the sound of his baby girl's wails, screams of torment and pain coming from her usual giggly lips...

it's heartbreaking.

she's crying... over the fact gojo let his beard grow out.

truth be told, he shaved weekly. it was a routine; you would stand next to him in the bathroom mirror and watch as he whips up the white shaving cream on his hands before lathering it onto his chiseled face and sharp of his jawline. gojo would shave with such precision, making sure every existing stubble was removed before kissing you again. it made him feel clean and was part of maintaining his charming, youthful look.

but recently, he's been so busy with his sorcerer missions.

your husband hadn't shaved in a few weeks, soft tufts of white springing from his chin and dotting his cupid's bow. while you found his stubble and beard quite handsome, your daughter did not.

she found it to be quite the opposite, actually.

"you're not dada!!" his daughter screams, sobs of fear becoming cries of anger and distress.

you can't help but stifle a laugh, motherly hand reaching back to gently stroke her head in an affectionate manner.

"pumpkin, that's dada." you try to soothe her, words gentle as your husband stands in shock over the fact his own three-year-old hasn't realized it's him.

"no!!" your daughter screams, voice trill as she shrieks in fear.

"baby..." you frown.

"no! no! no!!"

you sigh, crouching down to her level to soothe her. you gently kiss her forehead, watching as grubby little hands come up and hastily try to wipe away childish tears. the scary man, your husband, leaves— you assume to shave.

ten minutes later, said scary man returns with a clean-shaven face.

his heart softens at the sight of you and your daughter, sitting on her play mat together. his baby girl rests in your lap with a pouty lip, eyes glossy with previous tears. gojo feels bad for scaring his little pumpkin so badly.

"look, pumpkin." you say softly, pointing up at your husband. his face is still damp from his shave, but he's certainly regained a certain charm back from being bare faced.

"hi, baby."

"dada!" your daughter squeals, nearly tripping over herself to get off of your lap and into the warm confines of gojo's arms.

it's adorable, really... how his baby girl only recognizes him when he's clean shaven.

"hi there, baby. did ya miss me?" your husband smiles as your daughter grabs onto his face, little hands running over gojo's soft skin where prickly stubble once was.

a little chirpy giggle escapes your daughter.

the past image of the scary man is forgotten, and the only man that remains is a loving father. you laugh, heart full of warmth.

your little family was so funny, and it was yours to love.

© YUNYMPHS 2024 modifications, reposts, and translations of any kind are strictly prohibited.

[attyrocious]

commission for @lawsbbygirl

posting the grey version bc i am biased

[trafalgarloves]

You've always wondered if cars could sense when you were stressed out. In the past, the only times you ever had troubles were on important days. Whether it was when you had a big exam for your 9:30 am class and needed to get there early to get a good seat or when your job had already been on your ass about showing up a little bit late. Your car only seemed to cause problems for you then. Any other day of the week, it was fine.

But as one would assume, on a day that already has not been going that great, your car decides to start making a scary noise in the middle of your ride home. Now, typically, you would just choose to turn the music up a little louder in order to drown it out, but it seems that that trick wouldn't work this time as the car even started sputtering like it was struggling to move forward just a little bit. 

Going against the voice in your brain telling you to just keep driving and worry about it once you get home, you pull over to the side to see if you can do anything. It's not like you have much knowledge about cars, but there's a YouTube video for everything these days, so maybe it wouldn't be so hard to figure out. Though, to your dismay, when you go to open the hood, after struggling a little even to find the button to pop it, there's smoke everywhere. It comes from every direction, and you have to take multiple steps back in fear that maybe it will blow up. 

Frustrated, you stand off to the side and try to think of who to call that could help you out. When almost like an angel, if an angel could be described as a man dressed in an all-black suit on a motorcycle, starts to pull off to the side of the road by where you are. 

It was still light outside, nearing sunset, with the sky displaying a variety of beautiful colors, but enough to be able to make out your surroundings. However, that still did not ease your apprehension completely, as it was a man you did not know making his way toward you. A handsome man at that, you realized once you got a good look at his face. He had beautiful tan skin, with dark hair framing his face and hair covering his jaw and around his full lips, which were holding a toothpick. You also couldn't help but notice he was riding without a helmet, going against all safety precautions. 

Upon approaching you, he immediately introduces himself as “Nicholas D. Wolfwood.” He even hands over his license to prove it in hopes of gaining a little bit of trust while explaining that he owns a mechanic shop not far from where you are and is willing to look at your car in order for you to be on your way.

While still being a bit weary of him, you decide it might be the best course of action. If you were to call your parents, they would take a while to arrive, and by then, it would reach nighttime. He informs you that he's willing to give you a ride on his motorcycle so you can wait in his shop while he returns and does the necessary repairs on your car.

You are a tad bit nervous, never having been on a motorcycle before. As if he senses this, he pulls out a helmet from a small compartment on the bike and guides it on your head as he states, “I'm carrying precious cargo, so I'll make sure to drive as safely as I can '' with a smirk. He then helps you get on the bike and guides your arms around his waist, and he begins to move. Safely, you get to the shop and start to realize that maybe this day won't be so bad after all. Hopefully, you'll be able to score this hot mechanics number by the end of it.

[trafalgarloves]

i have not seen one boyfriend reveal today!! thank god

[trafalgarloves]

I feel like Wolfwood would love washing/styling his partner's hair. He's so patient in working the conditioner through his partner's hair, and combing/brushing out the knots, and he's so careful not to damage your hair (esp if it's a curly/coily hair type). He feels so honoured to be allowed to handle their hair.

(Apologies if this seems random, but I love the idea of Wolfwood being a doting boyfriend/husband, and having a thing for his partner's hair)

omggg yess you are so right!! (also pls do not apologize, i love your brain <3) For how annoying he can be on a day to day basis, when it comes to such loving tasks like washing your hair he's so careful and considerate, making sure he's giving you the best possible treatment because you deserve it. I can imagine him even looking up videos of your hair type to see if there's anything else he could be doing that would be beneficial. omg also imagine getting to wash his hair hehe

[kizzmia]

Yuta was born in 2001 so he’s 23 now… Here he is all grown up 💪🏼 in high resolution 👀 ✏️❤️✌🏻

[bumbleboa]

a Law sketch to relax after work

[yuwuta]

satoru physically withers and crumbles every time you return his belongings. he doesn’t know how to tell you that he can only accidentally on purpose leave his glasses on your nightstand, or his jacket on your couch, or his shirt in your laundry so many times before he loses his mind. every time you don’t take he bait, he folds into himself and wonders why you don’t love him anymore and it costs him $22.50 to hear ieiri tell him to suck it up and use his words because he literally has to buy her company (and drinks).

but when you do take the bait, when you do wear his things, satoru thinks it’s all worth it. he can’t explain why it does what it does to him. it’s a sinister kind of possession he wants to have over you, knowing you’re your own person, free to do as you please, but also knowing you’re caged in him. it’s a lovesick kind of gooeyness that melts his heart seeing you fumble with the sleeves of a sweater that’s too long for you. it’s the vision of you seeing you drowning in him—in his clothes, in his things, in him, in him, in him. he’s selfish, he wants to consume you in as many ways as possible, wants you to drown in him, would die happily knowing you were one tenth as enraptured by him as he is with you. he doesn’t know how or why or when you gained so much power over him, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t want you to ever stop, so if he has to keep pretending to leave his clothes and bags and glasses around then so be it.

[mechamedusa]

you unshare your location during a fight. how does your fave react?

immediately shows up where you are (how did they find you? who knows)

starts apologizing and trying to rectify the situation, no matter who’s at fault

passive-aggressively tells you to have fun

unshares their location

“fr?”

responds very level-headed. “i see you’re upset, we can talk later” etc.

does not respond at all. they refuse to feed into it

other? (esplain)

Voting ended onFeb 10, 2024

[inkskinned]

oh i don't know what young adult needs to hear this but you should google what day your 10,000th day will be & set a reminder in your calendar. it happens somewhere in your 27th year. i was really bummed when i googled my own and found out i had missed it by like 2 months.

(if you missed yours too, no worries, we both get another chance to celebrate 15,000 at 41. Unfortunately you will be 54 years old before you are 20,000 days old, at which point we will have overthrown the concept of linear time anyway)

life is very cute, and you have struggled a very long time to be here, and i love you. sometimes i think we need to invent our reasons for celebration. maybe today you are 10,345 days old. or 12,345. or 8,435. maybe u should just celebrate because it is a weekday, and those are hard days. i love u , light a candle and blow it out. i'm proud of you for staying.