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rengoku + totk ember armor :-)

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i’m in a constant battle between wanting miguel o’haras dick down my throat and wanting him to disintegrate bc let my boy miles do what he gotta do !!!!!

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I LOVE YOU

TW: EYE CONTACT SCOPOPHOBIA

This is my drawing theses “things “ hope you guys will like it.

I always want to draw Wally’s dark side thou!

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THE RUST THAT GREW BETWEEN TELEPHONES

in which suna is annoying (shocker). slightly suggestive? tw: hickeys/bruising 

Sometimes you swear life is laughing at you, and sometimes it is. But other times, it’s just your boyfriend.

Waking up this morning with an alarmingly noticeable hickey on your neck was not what you meant when you said you were looking for a new accessory to wear out to brunch. 

You’ve already spent about twenty minutes of your getting ready process on trying to cover up the harsh bruise that formed on your skin overnight, and with each pump of foundation and stroke of concealer, your frustration grows. 

Amid your horror, you hear a borderline squeak. Something that perfectly reflects a mumbled snort of laughter behind a stupidly long and calloused hand. 

You let your gaze sharply adjust to the silhouette in the reflection behind you. Suna stands exactly how you’d imagined him, watching your feeble attempts at trying to cover his bite with a shit-eating grin hidden behind his fist.

He’s utterly amused by the scene playing out before him. You? Not so much. 

“Choke.”

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you can’t look me in the eyes and tell me they didn’t say this.

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Sun is thinking about you~

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»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

mamas boy - m. atsumu 

➳ tags ;; fem!reader, fluff, a little emo 

➳ wc ;; 1.1k

➳ plot ;; you and atsumus mom meet for the first time 

she can see it all over your face that you are the kind of love her son was destined to find

➳ a/n ;; why did writing this make me ugly cry… 

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

atsumu miya doesn’t plan on leaving you home alone with his mother during your first meeting. 

but he’s something of a mamas boy, and when she ruffles his hair and hands him a paper bills folded neatly, he already knows the drill. she wraps her hand around his closed fist and lists off the ingredients one by one - green onions, ginger, and 2 cloves of garlic. 

then she whispers something while looking at you, sharp eyes as she leans up and says whatever secret she can’t let you in on. you squirm a little in your seat, trying your best not to be intimidated. it’s hard, because atsumu miya’s mother is.. well.. intimidating. 

and you’ve seen her in pictures, many times in fact. she’s a single, working mother. she smokes skinny cigarettes and has two ashtrays just on the kitchen table when you arrive. they’re a pair - a black and white cat. her hair is streaked with salt and pepper grey but it’s still a rich brown everywhere else. she has a mild case of crows feet but soft looking hands - a mole on her right one. her nails are painted a fresh purple, lavender and unchipped. 

you can’t sit still at the table. she hasn’t spoken much to you at all but you can hear her pull out a chair with a back of her foot. she brings a pairing knife, two bowls, a cutting board - clearly well-loved.

the first thing she picks out of the basket is an apple of many. you give her a panicked smile, hands flailing

“oh! uh, lemme help you with that,”

she shakes her head, puts the whole thing down before patting the pocket of her apron. a package of pretty cigs.

“mind if i smoke?” 

you shake your head. she nods, smacks the plastic against her palm three times before cracking it open. she lights with a decorative lighter. it’s engraved with something. the match flickers and the air fills with the lightest scent of tobacco. she lets it hang from her lips, taking a sharp inhale before letting it out in a long cloud. 

one thing you know for sure is she’s the type of woman you could only dream of being. shoulder length hair, pushed back with only a hairband. she cuts the skin of the apple with her fingers curled around the knife, thumb against the blade with confidence. it cuts smooth, sharp. 

“i’ve heard a lot about you,” 

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(x)

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“you should be the bigger person” absolutely not. i’m cursing his entire bloodline.

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tin can with a red string. how did that get there

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Sally Starlet supposes you shine just brightly enough to earn a smidgen of her attention!

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Woaogghhh love this funky puppet man way too much

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i love rapunzel sm it’s my fav movie

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Signature Scent | K.Bakugou

Bakugou Katsuki has a really sensitive nose. He can reliably pick out the notes of any tea based on its aroma, can tell you exactly what ingredients you're using in the kitchen without even looking at the recipe, and all your candles are chosen by him. Not because he particularly cares about the candles themselves, but rather because he would prefer not to get a headache every time he walks into the living room.

So of course, when you're looking for a new perfume, it's obvious that you have to bring him along. After all, he's not just good at identifying unique scents—he's the love of your life. As much as you acknowledge that this perfume is for your usage and therefore, your happiness and ultimate approval, you'd hate to buy a scent that he absolutely can't stand. You don't want your boyfriend sneezing every time he comes near you.

"Katsuki, what about this one?" You ask, holding up a cute glass bottle. He reads the fine print describing the supposed layering of the scent as you wave the sampler paper in front of his face. Despite how nice the description sounded, in reality he thinks it only smells vaguely like what the designer was trying to conjure.

He wrinkles his nose. "Too powdery. Wouldn't suit you."

Almost everything you had tested so far had met similar criticism. Too floral, too sweet, too musky, too watery. You understand some scents being too strong (you thought he was overreacting in his usual way when he coughed loudly after smelling one, but after sniffing it yourself you had to agree it was bad). But really, how could there not be a single fragrance in the store that he likes? When your next choice is critiqued as "too basic," you confirm your suspicions that now he's just being picky.

It's been almost an hour in the store, and you've sampled most of the fragrances of your interest. You've narrowed it down to two scents that you both agreed "weren't the worst" (his words, not yours), and are trying to make a decision so you aren't late for your dinner reservation. You're so focused on trying to distinguish what you like between the two scents that you don't notice Katsuki has left his spot behind you.

He glances up and down the walls as he walks, each filled with bottle after bottle of expensive fragrance, each with it's own unique shape and mood to evoke. He's about to ask you if you've made up your mind when a certain bottle catches his eye. When he sprays it into the air, a connection sparks in his brain, the light of fading sunshine on warm skin, a calm breeze lingering with a subtle sweetness.

Perfect.

"Y/N." He calls, still holding the bottle. "Try this one."

You put the ones you were looking at aside to see what he's found. It only takes a glance at the bottle in his hand for a giggle to bubble up in your throat.

"Something wrong with it?" He growls. "You dragged me here for my opinion, now you have it."

"There's nothing wrong with it." You take the sampler from his hand and spray it on your wrists. He watches as your smile only grows as you breathe it in. "I'll get this one."

He steps outside while you pay at the register, relieved to take a deep breath of fresh air. He still doesn't know what that scent reminds him of. You liked it too, so he should consider it a win. But it feels like there's some kind of inside joke you're not letting him in on.

When you rejoin him at the storefront, he's tapping his foot impatiently and deep in thought. It must be because he's worried about the dinner reservation, you think. But even throughout dinner, it seems like he's taking way too long to decide what to order, peeking at you every now and then from over the menu and scoffing when you tell him he's acting strange.

He keeps catching whiffs of your newly purchased perfume, and each time his mind wanders. He can identify the key notes, the layers as they fade down, but there's something that he just can't figure out. It smells reminiscent of something, faint but familiar. It bothers him that he doesn't know what it is, and what was that giggle you gave him when you saw him holding it up?

It's even harder to ignore on the ride home. With you sitting so close, it's more intoxicating than it was before. It settles differently on you than it did lingering in the air, but somehow this version smells even more like what he's trying to recall. When you finally arrive back to your apartment, he confronts you before you have the chance to slip into the shower and wash it away.

"Well?" He seems almost accusing, with the way he stands with his hands on his hips. "What aren't you telling me? About that perfume, there's something weird about it."

"Weird bad?" You ask.

"No! Just... weird."

The same smile blooms on your face as you walk towards him, tilting your head back to meet his eyes. "You really don't remember?"

"Am I supposed to remember? They put some weird shit in it, is that it?"

You laugh at his response, pulling him closer. "Maybe you'll remember this." The scent washes over him as you bring your face to his, your lips brushing his ear. "Katsuki."

He instinctively closes his eyes when your lips press to his. He knows your lips, he knows your kiss, there is something about you that has always been familiar.

He remembers now.

Years ago, when he still didn't know how to act around you, you pulled him close like this. That scent lingered on your collar, you whispered his first name like a charm and sent shivers down his spine, captivated and no longer in denial. He remembers how you leaned in close, your arms around his neck as you asked him what he'd do for you, and he'd answered without thinking: anything. He remembers the taste of your lips, the sunlight of the evening, the warmth of your skin, the softness of your face in his hands as he kissed you without remorse, the way he should've all that time. He remembered the kiss, sure, it wasn't the first and it wasn't the last. But not in all that detail. Not until now.

When you pull away, his mind is brought back to where you stand with him in the bedroom.

"I haven't worn this one in years." You stroke a loving hand over his shoulder as you speak, "I ran out of it a little after I met you, but it's funny that you chose this one if you didn't know. Some part of you must've remembered."

It all makes sense now. Of course that's why he liked it, why he couldn't figure out what note he couldn't name. It's because it literally smelled like you, the you from a memory, the you he met and fell in love with years ago. He chose a perfume the you in the past had already chosen.

"Make it your signature scent," He says. "I'll remember it next time."

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A/N: if anyone can’t tell… I got a new perfume recently

A/N 2: posted this earlier this evening but then marked it as private but nOW I’m making it public so here it is again as another post bc I couldn’t figure out the settings lol

Posted: 3/24/23–3/25/23 (second posting)

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It occurred to me that he's squinting his eyes here because he lost his glasses (got broken when he went SUPERSONIC) in the last episode.