seijoh-apologist

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I will not be the same when these get animated I apologize for who I will become 🙏

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Sakusa just looks like he falls asleep with his big ass hand on ur tit. It’s not even sexual at this point he just does it cause he can. As soon as he scoots in behind you to get himself comfortable the first thing he does is slide his hand up ur shirt and grabs a handful before belting himself to your back and clocking out a second later. And it’s not even limited to the bedroom, sometimes he’ll just be on the phone and see you standing in the kitchen making a snack and you’ll just feel the bottom of your shirt lift a little before his fingers are dipping under the cup of ur bra. The guy isn’t even necessarily a tit man, he just does it because you’re his

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I’d be at true form!Sukuna’s beck and call unconditionally but be human Sukuna’s personal headache.

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osamu is such a great guy he deserves the world but also we are in the throes of a slightly toxic workplace relationship and i don’t plan on letting him go

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Ok but Makki and Mattsun who assumed you were dating both of them already but you only thought you were dating Mattsun

One day close to tears you confess to Mattsun you kissed Makki while you guys were at a party and he's like????? Ok so did I? And you're like 'wait what' and he's like "yeah we can kiss our boyfriend whenever -" OUR BOYFRIEND!?!

Needless to say you guys all sat down and had a long talk about your relationship. You ended up with 2 bfs

poor mattsun and makki just thought that you were taking things slow with makki because you were new to the poly scene!!!

"How long have we been dating Makki?" and mattsun is just like "??? I've been dating Makki longer than I've been dating you what do you MEAN??"

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tobio sitting with his (absurdly round) baby in his lap, carefully using those little baby nail clippers to trim their finger and toenails. so so careful. so gentle. so diligent. holds their tiny hand up realllllly close to his face to make sure he did a good job. baby just sits there and gurgles happily the whole time, chewing on the strings of his hoodie.

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Color sketch requests from ig~ 

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Gojo on White Day.. He totally would gift “himself”- fight me

[seijoh-apologist]

now and (or) forever ; hanamaki takahiro

genre: kidfic but you are the kid, growing up (or coming of age), (very mild) suggestive content, implied childhood friends to lovers

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i just wanted to be a ballerina.

pre-school starts. you're 6 years old and you're sat next to a short boy with pink hair. he has three missing front teeth, fair skin full of dotted freckles and small dimples on his cheeks. "you have a hole on your face when you smile," is first thing you say to him.

"well, your hair looks weird- makes you look like a coconut," he points out, staring at the bun on the top of your head.

you want to say something mean like his lack of teeth makes him look like a weird turtle or that he has toothpaste on his shirt but your parents have always told you to be nice, especially to other kids, so you just pout.

he notices your sudden change in behavior and taps on your shoulder. "if it makes you feel better, i reaaally like coconuts," he tries to cheer you up and it works. "but- uhm," he bites his lower lip, tiny patches of red surrounding the cracked areas. "why's your hair like that?"

you let out the biggest smile you can manage and with full of pride, you claim, "because i'm a ballerina!"

"a balle- what?" he scrunches his eyebrows together, clearly confused.

"a bah-leh-ree-naaaaa.." you say right in front of his face and hands on your hips.

mirroring your movements, he rests his hands on his hips. "what do rina's do?"

you take a step closer to him and softly flick his forehead with your little fingers. "bah," you open your mouth, and he follows the lead.

"bah," his jaw open wide, you can see how blue his tongue is. probably a ring pop. "leh," you drawl and again, he copies. "ree," you say in a sing-songy voice.

"ree," he breathes out, the tip of his tongue poking out of his teethless mouth. "na."

"ballerina," you smile. "bahlrina," he says grimly, dropping his head down in disappointment because he can't say it right.

tugging at the ends of his sleeve, you give him a thumbs up and a wide smile, "it'skay! i can just show you what we do."

you move the tables around you aside and push your hello kitty bag and his thomas (the train) bag to the corner. taking a dramatically deep breath, you close your eyes and your legs together, heels touching each other like your dance teacher has taught you.

and you plié, hands coming out to the side and with ease, you come back up gracefully, hands coming together in a shape of a beach ball, and the tips of your fingers in line with your belly button. "oooh that's so cool!" he muses, clapping his hands.

"so d'ya want to be a bahlrina when you grow up?" he asks and without hesitation, you nod and begin to fix the desks.

once you're done, you take out your lunch from your bag but before saying thanks, you turn to him and ask, "how about you? what do you wanna be when you grow up?"

"i wanna be a superhero!" he says instantly like he's been waiting for you to ask this entire time, and you laugh and tell him, "that's super cool..." and you see the bright red marker on his name tag, "...takahiro."

completely caught off guard, he blushes and pulls his lunchbox and murmurs something to himself.

"itadakimasu," you say in sync, and eat your lunch.

-

at 17, takahiro gets ready to play against karasuno for the interhigh tournament.

but in between this, his counselor asks him what he's planning to do after he graduates.

and truthfully, he doesn't know. takahiro wishes he can still say he wants to be a superhero, but as he aged, he realized he cannot be a fucking superhero.

he wants to make a joke out of this, claim his dream job is to dress up as spiderman in disneyland so he can be an actual hero.

he doesn't. he shrugs his shoulders and tells his counselor that he'll think about it.

with the exclusion of volleyball, he's never had an intense passion for anything else, and although he knows with his skills, he can pursue the sport. it's not a bad idea but in comparison to everyone else, like his current captain (and admittedly close friend), oikawa tōru, and the prodigy setter from karasuno, kageyama tobio, he realized that he's no volleyball monster like them.

he's just a kid who's lucky enough to play right beside people like them.

-

that afternoon, he comes home to you on his bed, looking all pretty in your ballet attire and a neat bun on top of your head. "hey," he calls out, settling his things beside his (very messy) desk area.

the bed dips the second he sits on the edge and you acknowledge his presence, throwing a bunch of hair ties on his lap.

"braid my hair for me," you suggest, untying your perfectly slick bun. "you have a lot of faith in my skills," he jokes and takes the hairbrush from your hand.

he makes himself comfortable, leaning his back on the bed frame and you set yourself between his thighs, leaning onto his touch.

his fingers feel soft and gentle against your scalp as he massages your head. you moan in instinct, his fingers digging onto your scalp and it feels heavenly. "you ever thought about being a hairdresser?" you joke.

"am i that good?" he's quick with the comebacks as usual. before you have the chance to respond he shuts you down with a no.

minutes pass and he's done with the left side, now working on the right.

in the middle of the silence and the muffled voices downstairs, he finds himself asking you, "what do you wanna do after you graduate?"

the word 'dance' is on the tip of your tongue but you don't say it. the passion you've had for the art has slowly faded. you're not sure when you started feeling like this--maybe when you thought about how small the dance world really is. maybe because the pressure is insane; one wrong step and the world will stop spinning.

or maybe it's all simple. you're just tired of it.

so you say, "i don't know."

-

when your braids are all done, you tap your phone open and click on the camera app. the braids look good. with the twiddle of your thumbs, you exit out of the app and glance at the time.

5:20 PM.

you groan and lock your phone. hopping off the bed, you grab your ballet bag from the floor. "i have to go, class in 25," you announce softly and bend over to give him a peck on the cheek. "bye," you wave at him once you reach his bedroom door.

-

at 22, you're still unsure.

thinking back to the conversation you had with your takahiro years ago, you wish you had said "to dance" at that moment. you stare at the stack of books in front of you and you immediately regret most of the decisions you've made. but knowing yourself, you would've burnt out either way.

sighing, you close the book in front of you and text hiro that you're done with the evening. maybe i can pass by the bakery to buy some cream puffs, you think.

-

he sits by the parking lot, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel while he waits for you to come out of the store.

with a ring of the bell, you exit the door, right hand holding a binder, and the left holding the box of sweets.

-

he's reminded that he loves you. he doesn't know why the sight of you holding a box of cream puffs from his favorite store while wearing his "aoba johsai" sweater does it for him.

he's not sentimental at all but maybe, just maybe, during times like this, he's reminded of the little girl he met in pre-school that he's always loved a little too much.

"you look good," he comments and takes the box of pastries out of your hand to place it on the seat behind. "blegh," you grimace, "i just wanna shower and sleep," clicking your seat belt on.

-

the shower runs warm and you sigh, fogging up the glass door. you see him from the other side, quietly undressing and throwing his clothes in the laundry.

the door opens and he slips inside the small space. "hi," he chuckles and stands awkwardly in front of you, still dry.

"hi," you laugh and pull him to the side that the water can reach.

turning to the side, you squirt some shampoo onto his palm. you turn to face the wall so he can start washing your hair.

"mm," you hum, "you ever thought about being a hairdresser? they make money for just doing this i think," you repeat the very old joke and close your eyes.

"shut up," he laughs softly and kisses the back of your neck.

-

at 26, you and takahiro take over his family's pottery business.

"you'll still give me massages right?"

"head?" he snickers and you smack his head in response, "no you perv, you know," you groan, too tired to keep up with him tonight.

today was the first day and you've spent most of the night closing up the last group of boxes in preparation for the next group of orders.

"do i?" he presses. he's insufferable, you think but choose to ignore him instead and poke your tongue out at him. he guffaws when he hears you whisper to yourself about how much annoying he is and how much you want to wipe that stupid smirk off his face.

"okay, first day is done," you sigh and run over the list of things you could've possibly forgotten about. "first day is done," takahiro repeats.

-

a couple of years pass and you're now standing in front of the same pre-school you attended when you were a child. "okay kaori, you ready?"

her tiny hands grip yours tightly and hiro kneels down in front of her. he brings his thumb to his lips, licking it before using his damp finger to fix over her ballet bun.

"i'm scared," she says, her bottom lip quivering in nervousness. you look at hiro in worry, hoping he can say something that can reassure her like "you can play with the clay at the store later," or "you can help us make cream puffs later," but instead, he settles on giving her forehead a kiss and says something even better.

"don't worry, there's a seat right next to the superhero. you see?" he points out the child wearing a marvel shirt.

"a superhero just like papa," he smiles.

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super like 🔥

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i hate gojo satoru i wanna fuck him so badly he’s so hot 💔💔💔💔

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god hes so hot i love his pixels

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[ 2:35 a.m. ] - MATTSUKAWA ISSEI

+ warnings. smoking. mentions of a toxic ex (not explicit / no angst). self-indulgent as fuck lmao.

"fuck, i feel so relieved," you breathe out, twirling the cigarette in your hands, cheeks red because of the cold, "he really was something else, huh?"

"i've been telling you to drop that piece of ass forever, babe," mattsun says, his hands deep in the pockets of his lettered jacket, eyes on the scenery before you- the bright city lights twinkling from up on the terrace, party music fading away. it's rather peaceful, especially for a friday night.

well, you’re not complaining, since you’re dreading the next day anyway. nothing specific, just that you don’t have anything particularly exciting to do.

most people are inside, so it's really just you and him (and a few lovebirds sucking faces here and there)- your three friends are nowhere to be seen. probably doing shots at the bar, you figure.

"yeah, yeah," you huff, blowing out a ring of smoke as you bring the cigarette to your lips, "you know how i always get stuck with the bad ones, 'sei."

the bad one here being your ex— one you've broken up with a few days ago. he was toxic, to say the least- something mattsun had been telling you since the first few weeks of your relationship.

”well, you’re stuck with me,” he says, picking the cigarette from your hands to press it to his mouth, inhaling sharply, “and I’m not half bad.”

”aren’t you, though?,” you tease, pouting, “gimme that back.”

”no,” mattsun says, holding it above his head as you try to snatch it (of course, failing- have you seen how tall he is?). laughing, you smack his chest, giving up, “asshat.”

”that’s a compliment, considering you’re attracted to those.”

“you don’t have to say it like that!“

”it’s not necessarily a bad thing,” he pauses, mouth stretching into a smirk, “only if i’m the asshat in question, though.“

ah. you did like mattsun at some point, but never got around to telling him. it would ruin your friendship, your brain said, and you’d rather keep your best friend than act upon flimsy feelings.

that being said, you never did move on from them— even after dating a variety of boys in an attempt to bury your feelings for mattsun.

“you could be,” you mutter, leaning on the balcony railing, hair flying onto your face. “anyway ‘sei, it just hit me, why don’t you have any flings of your own?”

”i like someone,” he leans next to you, resting his arms on the slab, “they‘re stupidly oblivious, smoke at parties, and have horrible taste in guys.”

your heart skips a beat, eyes widening slightly. did you understand that right?

“what?”

”you ever think about why i don’t seem to like any of your boyfriends?”

come to think of it, mattsun always did seem somewhat hostile towards anyone you introduced to the group— he wasn’t ever outright rude, but his side-eyed glances and occasional snarky comments hadn’t gone unnoticed.

”i swear to god if you’re fucking with me right now,” you frown at his chuckle, gulping when he turns to face you, pushing your hair out of your face.

“i’m not fucking with you, y/n,” mattsun says, his thumb tracing your lip, “go out with me.”

it’s not the sort of confession you would’ve expected, but it is mattsun you’re dealing with, after all. and maybe, just maybe, you like it much better this way.

there’s a minute of silence between you two, although it’s not the least bit awkward. you finally decide to speak, clearing your throat.

“don’t break my heart then.”

it’s not exactly a model response, but honestly, after the amount of toxicity you’ve seen, it’s the best you can give. you like him, you really do— which is why you’re cautious.

mattsun laughs, brushing his nose against yours. only you could respond to a confession that way.

”would never dare to.”

he presses his forehead to yours, dying to kiss you— but he also wants it to be special, so he doesn’t do it. not yet.

“tomorrow,” mattsun speaks, close enough for you to breathe in the warm air he’s exhaling, “pancake place you like. ten ‘o clock. me, you and maple syrup.“

you smile widely, tilting your face to press your lips onto mattsun‘s cheek, warmth spreading through your chest despite of the chilly wind blowing on your back.

maple syrup, huh?

now you have something to look forward to for tomorrow.

Reblogs appreciated !!

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"You're very precious to me," your voice was a whisper through the darkened room, vision strained under the cover of your duvet to make out the green eyes that stared back at you.

He smiled, wide enough to stretch across the length of his cheeks while remaining soft in the late hours of the night. He stayed quiet, pressing further into you in place of words. His mouth pressed delicately against yours, soft enough to tickle against your lips when he laughed quietly.

"I get it; Takahiro means precious. You think you're clever, huh?"

You grinned, throwing an arm over his shoulder to pull his body closer against yours, nudging your head into the crook of his neck. You breathed him in, his bare skin smelled of the strawberry body wash you'd gotten him for his apartment; the same one you kept at your own that he always told you he loved. His hands played up and down your back, kisses peppered across your hairline and forehead.

It was easy with him like this; it felt all too natural to spend your time with Hanamaki, taking in every bit of each other that you could from the late evening into the early hours of the morning, when all that could be heard were your hushed whispers and gentle laughter. When the fits of giggles died down, and neither of you could form words to express your adoration anymore, you were left to study each other instead. You mapped every freckle across the slope of his nose, the collection of lashes on his eyelids, and the way that one side of his mouth lifted higher when he smiled at you. The most beautiful piece of art you'd ever seen, laid bare next to you every night like your own private showcase.

"I'm going to marry you someday."

It was a quiet proclamation whispered into your hairline, soft, gentle, but with a certainty that shook you completely. You pulled back, stared at him with wide eyes searching for any hint of deception, but you couldn't find it. Instead he was smiling at you, all soft eyes and blushed cheeks with tears rimming his lashline. He nodded at you, as if to reassure that you'd heard him right. Pulling the blankets away from your head, you sat up to study him properly in the light.

You flipped him onto his back, straddled his hips and leaned into him so closely that your noses brushed together. Your eyes narrowed, but your lips stretched into a smile you couldn't hold back if you tried to.

"Do you mean it? You're going to be my husband someday?"

He shook his head smiling up at you, wound his arms around your waist to hold you closer to him, as if you'd slip away if he didn't.

"I don't like the sound of someday. How about tomorrow? I'll take you to the courthouse, and I'll buy you a real pretty ring from the pawn shop. It'll be so romantic, you won't be able to stomach it."

He pulled you down, pressed kisses across the planes of your cheeks and forehead and nose, and anywhere else he could connect his lips to your skin. Your laughter was like heavens bells in his ears, ringing deafeningly loud; he hoped he could hear you laugh for the rest of his days.

"I'll marry you tomorrow, Hanamaki Takahiro. At the courthouse, with a pawn shop ring."

Your head knocked against his shoulder when you laid back down, and he nudged his arm beneath your head to cradle you against him. You held your left hand up in the air, wiggling your fingers in front of the both of you. He reached his own hand up, laced his fingers with yours and brought it down to kiss your wrist, the back of your hand, and then across all of your fingers once. He placed your hand over his heart, held it there with a steel grip and turned to nuzzle his face into your hair.

He looked around his messy bedroom with one eye peeked open, the pieces of you that were scattered around were like treasures to him. He knew he wasn't completely put together, and that he had more growing to do. But, as he imagined a pretty little diamond sitting on top of your finger, something swelled in his chest, reaching all the way up his esophagus to form a lump in his throat.

It was pure, unadulterated love. It was excitement for a future with the love of his life, that started tomorrow with a courthouse wedding and a promise of devotion, until death do the two of you part. Hanamaki Takahiro rarely felt so excited for the beginning of a new day. He listened to your breathing, steady as you sleep began to take over, and he began to silently list every vow to you that he could make.

this is just me imagining my messy little life with makki because it's all i want

also, since this post is sfw, minors feel free to like! but do not follow me i will block u because i still am an 18+ blog!!

[seijoh-apologist]

kuroo's baby has the same stupid lil cackle that he does. this, of course, leads to kuroo cackling at his babies laugh- and vice versa.

the two of them get locked in giggle fits at least twice a day

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get a load of this man spreading SLUT