#i think it's fluff

[turanga4]

Lil Hedwig Drabble

Cuz it's creature drabble time at the Harry Potter Fanfiction Club Discord.

211 words.

He’d let Hagrid buy the owl without thinking it through properly.  Impossible, really, to think any of it through, at least not in the midst of it. Not in Diagon Alley.

A history.  A heritage. A future.

A pet.

Magic.

It was only afterwards, back on Privet Drive, his belly low with the unfamiliar weight of a full meal inside of it, that Harry began to have his doubts.  The cage too silver-bright, the owl just too beautiful. Alive, like the snake had been.

Does she want things, too?

Harry knew that two ideas could be true at the same time—what he’d been taught by others, and what made sense within his heart.  He knew he didn’t deserve her.  He knew she deserved the world. 

Gunmetal gray, rusted hinge of the window.  The owl recoiled at the creak of it when he pushed the screen up.

Easier, but harder, to swing open the cage.  He gestured to the dusk outside: she watched with golden eyes.

“It was nice, you know.  To meet you.  But I don’t think you should stay.” 

Leaning forward, the owl bent her snowy head over his knuckles, nipping them gently with her perfect curved beak.  She looked up, flapped her wings, and flew out.

And then returned.

[dancingbabya-notes]

Don't want to be a burden

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I gotta remind myself that I don't have to post a final product, or something that everyone likes. Here is an Aizawa x prohero oc

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Adults make mistakes. While working in a certain field I got close to a particular co-worker. As a transfer intern from America, I wanted to keep a low profile. Everyone assumed that just because I was from America that I wanted to be in the spotlight.

Whiplash was not a spotlight kind of hero.

“Oh, hey Whiplash, are you doing alright?” Present mic is a close friend of mine and Eraser head.

“I’ve been feeling queasy, maybe I forgot to clean my fridge again,” I laugh anxiously.

I knew what was wrong. But I was going to wait for two more weeks before stopping. It’s hard to be a hero and have a child, and Eraser was doing such a good job I didn’t want to mess it up. So instead of telling him the real reason I reluctantly admitted that heroism wasn’t my calling, especially with the money and tailcoats chasers.

“Are you sure about leaving?” Eraser asks on my last day of patrol.

“Yeah, I gotta help my family back in America anyway,” I flick my vine whip and sigh. “Thank you for being my friend while I was here though.”

He frowns. “I guess you could call it that. Will you be okay over there?”

“Why do you think I have a full body suit, face mask, and I get my hair done. I’m practically unrecognizable in civilian form,” smirking I look at him with a sad smile. “I know I’m the one who decided to leave but try to keep in touch, alright?”

“I can only try.”

After returning to America I had everything set up. A place to live, and a job for after. You could take me out of heroism, but you can’t take the hero out of me. My twin bundles of joy are like heaven on earth. I got an email from Eraserhead just after they were born. Keep safe. And I did.

“Bea? You have kids, right?” My superior asks.

“Yes, I have twins why do you ask?”

“Would you be interested in going back to Japan?”

I blink. No one would recognize me so I should be fine. “Sure. Sounds great. My boys are due for a scene change.”

The twins are both boys. I felt like I had no right asking Eraser to pick a name for them and giving them Japanese names could be taken the wrong way. Luckily, I felt better giving them names from my family.

Dayo and Ejiro. Both my sons had black hair like their father and Dayo had his standoffish demeanor. Ejiro was more like me with his bubbly actions always clutching to his brother. They had combination quirks. My quirk is the ability to use plants as I please, so Dayo could look at a plant and make it grow using it as he saw fit. Ejiro could erase the plants that he would touch only if he activated them.

“Mom? You said our dad lives in Japan; you think you’ll run into him again?” Ejiro asks as we pack our things.

“No, your daddy doesn’t like to get a lot of attention. And I’m sure by now he’s got a different job,” I sigh.

During my time with Eraser, we never exchanged our civilian names. And I felt bad not even being able to give them that. But Dayo and Ejiro were more than okay with having the same last name as their mom. Free.

They were only four. Everything was supposed to be cleared away. It was for the most part. By proxy, I got a three-bedroom apartment. I wasn’t going to force the twins to share a room, they would probably be at each other’s throats. And considering the length of my work here it could be extended at any time.

They would be starting school in Japan. Luckily, they only really knew Japanese. I couldn’t get rid of the habit of speaking in Japanese at home. Once we were all moved in, I met my employer.

“Ah, so you’re the new employee. Our promotional manager,” the man states.

“Publicity, yes pleased to meet you,” I state with a bow.

“I didn’t expect a woman with your name Kirabo,”

“That’s my given name, I’d prefer if you used my surname: Free,” asserting this, I wait for a second.

“Alright.”

It was a bumpy start. A lot of people didn’t want to listen to me, but eventually, I was able to do my job. And my boys started school. I felt like I was riding on a roller coaster, but five years already went by.

Dayo and Ejiro were getting ready for middle school. I wasn’t going to pressure them they could pick where they wanted to go. But I got a call.

“Oh, hey Whip.”

I blink, it had been ten years since anyone referred to me that way. “Hello? Who may I ask is calling?”

“You don’t recognize me? I’ll be the best talk show host ever, it’s Mic.”

“Sorry for the skepticism, but it’s dangerous to even consider revealing that to you.”

“Slow down, I got in touch with your agency and they told me that you came back to Japan a few years ago. I wanted to see if you wanted to catch up a bit?” He laughs.

“Oh.” I look at the lights on in the rooms and shake my head. “I’m sorry Mic, I can’t leave my kids alone for too long.”

“YOU HAVE KIDS!?”

I retract the phone. “Yeah, I have twin boys. Sorry, I never told you.”

“No, it’s fine. But I never expected you to settle down and get married?”

“I didn’t though.”

“They how to do you have kids?”

“We’re both adults, do I need to give you the talk?”

“Wait, you didn’t leave Japan because someone hurt you right?”

“No,” looking down I sigh. “I left Japan because I didn’t know how to tell their father I was pregnant.”

“Really? Have you talked to the guy?”

“Yeah like once just after they were born.”

“That must have been rough on you.”

“Look, I don’t mind catching up with you or Eraser, just come by the apartment when you’re free. My boys are just trying to figure out what middle school they might want to go to,” I offer.

Giving him the address, I felt a bit better. They did drop by on a Saturday. I was thinking about what to buy for dinner and they were at the door.

“Hey, how’s it been?” Mic grins.

I smile. “Come in, also call me Bea. My given name often confuses others.”

Arms engulf me and I chuckle. “Nice to see you too.”

“Kayama,” she answers.

“Yamada,” mic grins.

“Aizawa,” Eraser nods.

I smile “I would change it to calling me by my surname, but I’m sure the boys will jump out of their rooms for something.”

Kayama smiles as she looks at me again. “You’ve changed so much.”

“They have taken my energy. But I still have people asking me if I’m in my twenties. I feel like they say it to be nice,” I laugh a bit.

“How come you never told me you had kids?” Aizawa looks at the picture I had on the wall.

“Didn’t think you’d be interested.”

Yamada groans. “How long has it been since we spent any time together.”

“Eleven years.” Kayama points out. “You got anything to drink?”

“I was just about to pick up some things for dinner if you three wanna stay that long?” I state.

“Sure, Nemuri and I can pick it up for you,” Yamada offers.

“I don’t want to put you out,” I frown looking at the agenda for today.

“What are you making?” Aizawa asks.

“Yakiniku, Dayo likes it. Tomorrow is Ejiro’s favorite though. I wanted to treat them since they’ve been studying so hard,” I explain.

“We can buy the stuff then,” Kayama smirks.

I hand her my wallet and thank them as they leave. Aizawa sits at the table with a coffee I clean the dishes a bit. Dayo walks out holding his travel-sized greenhouse.

“Mom, Fi isn’t looking alright. Can you check her for me?” He thrusts the container my way.

“Sure, let me dry off my hands.” I peek at the container and pout.

Focusing on the plant I didn’t notice that he grabbed his juice and sat on the other side of Aizawa.

“Hi.” I hear Dayo say.

“Learning how to grow plants from your mom?” Aizawa wasn’t a talker so this struck me as odd.

“Sort of. I’ve always been able to grow things if I stare long enough,” Dayo replies.

“Dayo, where did you go?” Ejiro calls as he runs out. “Oh, there you are.”

“They look so similar,” Aizawa comments.

“They’re twins.” I place the greenhouse back. “I don’t think the chocolate vine is taking very well. I’ll see if I can find a space for us to grow our plants.”

Ejiro runs toward me. Grabbing my shirt, I raise a brow.

“Did you two know that your mom used to be a hero?”

Ejiro nods. “Mom said that she met our dad while she was a hero.”

Dayo pouts. “She also said that she stopped being a hero so she could raise us.”

“Hey, are you both sad that I’m not a hero anymore?” I look at them.

Dayo pouts. “But if you didn’t have us, you would still be a hero and be with dad.”

I pat him gently to avoid messing up his braids. “Did someone say something?”

“Our classmate said that if we weren’t born, you’d be with someone else,” Ejiro admits.

“I’m sorry Aizawa. I didn’t think this would come up at a time like this,” I pat Ejiro gently.

“Your names are Dayo and Ejiro right?” Aizawa asks.

They nod.

“Who named you?”

“Mom did.” Dayo states.

“Who has taken care of you this whole time?”

“Mom.”

“Is she any less of a hero since she’s taking care of you two?”

Dayo pouts. “Mom is our hero.”

“That’s all you need to understand then.” Aizawa nods.

Ejiro realizes something and frowns. “Dayo, have you been feeling that weird feeling too?”

I watch them for a moment, and they walk over to Aizawa. I tilt my head a bit confused. But Aizawa moves a bit as they look at him and inspect him further.

“You look exactly like how our mom said our dad looked,” Dayo finally states.

Ejiro asks looking at him with a smile. “What is your quirk?”

“I stop other people’s quirks,” Aizawa states.

Both in unison ask. “Are you our dad?”

“Boys stop bothering him. I told you both before I’ll tell you who your dad is when you’re older,” I knead at my temple.

The door opens and Yamada is back with Kayama and the food. I busy myself with cooking and talking. By the time it’s time to go. Aizawa looks at me.

“We need to talk.”

“What if I said no?”

“Bea.”

“Fine, let me know when.”

“Next Saturday”

I felt like I was watching my own death sentence. They left and things returned to normal until the next Saturday. Babysitter for the boys and I went to go see Aizawa.

“Are they my kids?” He asks.

I roll my eyes. “Wow skip the pot and straight into the fire Huh?”

“I’m being serious.”

“I am too.”

“You went back to America because of your family?”

Holding my cup, I frown. “My parents have been dead for years now. I went back to America because I was pregnant.”

“So, are they mine?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth Bea.”

“Yes, are you happy now? Dayo and Ejiro are your sons.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to trap you. Like you said hero society is full of shallow people that aren’t doing it for the right reasons.”

“You were a hero for the right reasons.”

“Yeah, and nothing would have stopped you from thinking I used you. Or that I would publicize it and paint you the bad guy,” I roll my eyes. “Look if you want to, we can do a test. But I don’t want to ruin your life. That is the exact reason I left Japan eleven years ago.”

Getting up I smile at him.

“You don’t have to see them or me if you don’t want. I wasn’t even planning on telling them until they became adults,” shaking my head I fix my clothes.

“Bea.”

Bowing to him I flash a weak smile. “Thank you for listening to me.”

Walking out of the café as a fast as I could into the busy street. My head filled with regret as I did. I couldn’t just force him to leave, I might have to work with him later, and he had a right to visit the boys if he wanted. Shaking the feeling out I quickly get to my apartment to pay the sitter. She thanks me and leaves. I should just focus on work

“No.” Slamming the folder on to the desk I could already feel the ropes of vine twisting around my body.

“What? But Free we have to—“

“If we have to, please find someone else willing to. But when I used to be a hero, I had the displeasure of working with that man for a very short period and I doubt I’d want to do it again.”

“You worked with Endeavor before?”

“Not by choice.”

“What was it like?”

“I was told from a young age to only speak for what I can pay for. And speaking about my experience with this particular man is stories above my pay grade.”

Despite my wishes I was the only one qualified to work on this, more so because I worked with Endeavor personally.

“You’re alive.” He puffs out.

“So are you.” Rolling my eyes, I cross my arms.

“Free!”

Endeavor raises a brow. “I’ve worked with her before, nothing particularly nasty has come out yet.”

Turning away I huff. “I can’t afford to pay for the damages otherwise, and I have kids to care for, old man.”

Oh, do I hate his arrogant attitude. Walking home I didn’t expect to see Aizawa standing at my door when I walked up the stairs.

“What are you doing here?” I reach to unlock the door.

But it opens. “Mom you’re back, Oh, hi Mr. Aizawa.”

“Come in.” I wave as I walk into the door.

Ejiro looks at the man and pouts. “Mom, you said you’d help me with my homework today.”

“I know, bring it to the living room so we can work on it,” taking off my shoes I release a sigh.

Aizawa takes off his shoes and I look at him with a sigh. “Please make yourself comfortable on the couch, I’ll get you something to drink as soon as I get back from changing.”

“Mom, I don’t feel—“ Dayo pokes his head from his room door and I have barely a second to catch him with my quirk.

Moving slowly toward him I frown. “Ejiro, come here.”

He walks over and looks at me. I place my hand on his forehead and frown. They were both running fevers.

“In bed both of you. I’ll make some porridge,” I grumble.

“He looks fine,” Aizawa points out.

I look at him and shake my head. “No, Ejiro seems to be more hyper than usual. I don’t know if it’s because he’s running a fever, but I know the boys.”

Picking up Dayo, I walk toward his bed. We got a corner apartment, so all the bedrooms have windows, and Dayo was so serious about learning how to grow plants that his room looked like a nursery.

“Mommy,” Dayo frowns. “I wanna sleep in your room. I don’t wanna be alone.”

“What’s wrong?” Aizawa appears again.

“Change of plans, can you make the porridge? I shouldn’t ask a guest, but I need to pick up Ejiro to lay them down together.” I sigh.

Aizawa frowns. “They’ll get sicker.”

“Mommy.” Ejiro wines from his room door.

“Come on, we’re gonna have a sleepover in mommy’s room,” I smile.

Dayo and Ejiro are both the same in height, weight, and appearance. But their personalities were always very distant normally, they liked to be independent and do things on their own or together. They got sick together, and it was like having toddlers again.

Laying Dayo on one side of the bed, I help Ejiro climb on the other side. Pulling the cooling patches from the drawer I place one on their foreheads.

Changing the temperature setting, I walk toward the bathroom and quickly change. Tying my hair in a ponytail I walk into the boy’s rooms and take the sheets from their beds. Grabbing their matching plushies. Aizawa seems to watch me as I do my tasks.

The sheets lay in a bundle by my bedroom door. Placing their plushies in their open arms I sigh. Leaving my bedroom door open I start cleaning.

“Need any help?”

“Yeah, just make some coffee. I’m gonna run down the conbini downstairs and buy some sports drinks after I start the clothes.”

“Is this how you usually are with them?”

“Aizawa, are you gonna keep asking questions while I’m trying to make sure they are comfortable?”

He holds up his hands in defense and I roll my eyes. It was maybe ten minutes before I finished getting everything and walking back in. Both of them were sound asleep, but I kept the door open just in case they needed anything.

“So why are you here?” I look at my cup of coffee.

“Because I wanted to talk to you again.”

Rolling my eyes, I frown. “I hope this isn’t some sense of responsibility because they are your kids too?”

“What do you mean?”

“My parents got married because my mom thought she had to marry the man who got her pregnant. She hated him. She hated me, but she loved my little brother. When she died before I came to Japan, she told me that she wished I’d never been born that way she could have gone on about her life.”

“Then did you hate me?”

“No, I never hated you. I mean I don’t hate you, but I was scared that you’d hate me.”

He frowns. “Do you think so little of me?”

“Aizawa, we were twenty. I just barely knew what being an adult meant,” finding that I feel I'm just excusing my behavior I sigh. “What would you have done if I stayed?”

“We would have gotten married.”

I shake my head. “I wouldn’t have been ready, I felt ready to have the twins, but not to get married.”

“Are you still not ready to get married?”

“What?”

“I know it’s been a long time, and we haven’t talked but I want to be there for them.”

“I need time to think about it. Besides I’m not stupid. You think I haven’t seen the news, hell I work in All Might’s publicity department. I’m just—“

Hearing one of them wake up I get up and send him a weak smile. “Aizawa, maybe I would have said yes five years ago. But I need time.”

“I understand. But I can’t just let you go off like that,” he mumbles. “Talking about us and the boys wasn’t the only reason that I came here; I was thinking that the kids needed a kind of guest speaker. Someone who was in from an early age.”

Looking at him I nod. “Just tell me when.”

Dayo and Ejiro recovered from their beginning of summer cold. A car was sent and Aizawa let them sit at his desk while I talked.

Standing awkwardly in my hero costume I fixed my cape a bit. Class 1-A of this year at Yuuei had been on the news more than any other class. They only looked like children to me.

“Today I thought it would be better to get a word from someone who started off at your age as a hero,” Aizawa states and they seem to grow quiet

One boy in the back jumps from his seat excited. “You’re the bondage hero Whiplash.

“I was hoping that name would not stick,” chuckling I rub at the back of my back. “Yes, I am Whiplash, in english the name is actually supposed to be capture hero. But my agent at the time mixed up the translations so when I came to Japan at eighteen, I was known as the bondage hero.”

One girl holds up her hand and I nod for her to ask. “But you stopped hero work almost ten years ago.”

I nod. “Yes, see I started hero work at sixteen and I loved every bit of it. I haven’t exactly stopped working as a hero considering I still have my license for emergencies.” Pulling the clip from my belt under my cape I hold up the small device. “I carry this device everywhere I go in case they need me. It’s only very special cases that I’ve been called. Crowd control, sometimes damage control. I’ve had the pleasure of working with many heroes before I stopped my public actions.”

“Why did you leave?”

Thinking of my kids I smile. “Life happens, my little brother was in a tight spot back in America, and since I was his legal guardian I had to leave. There were other things involved in it too. I um—”

Aizawa raises a brow. “You can tell them.”

I take a deep breath. “The first nail I the coffin that made me leave was a particular partnership. See I was used to working with Aizawa when I went on patrols or for missions. So, imagine my surprise when I had to work with your current number 2. I’m gonna sum it up by saying that was a very unpleasant experience and having to work with him again recently was still the same. If I’m being honest, I wish I could have gone to a hero school like you guys decided to. The second nail was my body was no longer my own if you understand what I mean. I would have to be caring for new life soon. My dad didn’t raise me to be a quitter, so I talked to my agency and I got transferred back to America and into the Publicity department.”

“I’m lucky that I could keep my license. In America we are much more relaxed in certain aspects, if it is an emergency, I could use my quirk to save someone. An emergency can be boiled down to the endangerment of someone’s life. So,” I flicked at the projector and an image came up. “A bus directed for a store, someone walking in the middle of the street when the light is red, faulty construction equipment. Personally, my least favorite because I have to grow and wrap vines together since I use plants and not trees. A tree is a plant, but it’s not one I have a lot of control over.”

“Why’d sensei have you come by?” someone mumbles.

I raise a brow. ��Well, I have maybe what two years’ experience ahead of your teacher. While he was learning to use this quirk, I was already working in the field in a country with a rather high reported crime rate. America doesn’t have many specialized hero schools, there’s only two. But they are filled with superficial people who do it for money and fame, when a real emergency comes up, they cannot protect others and barely themselves. So, tell me Mineta, would you prefer that every day you’re left at the mercy of what life usually throws at tenfold?”

“How many real heroes are there in America then?” Iida holds up his hand.

I think. “Quite a few, but not enough for the current population density. Think about it this way if there is a certain hero to civilian ratio, then I’d wanna say we have a one to one hundred—

“That’s not so bad.”

“One hundred thousand. In the city I worked there was two other heroes like me, and as the child everyone kind of didn’t trust me at first. That was until the dam incident,” I sigh. “I’ve never seen so many people change their tune so quickly. But I was never a hero for recognition, so as soon as I was able, I came to Japan to learn from the heroes here. I planned to be a hero for at least well into my thirties. While I technically still am, they don’t often call for a single mom to come patrolling.”

Throwing my hands up I force the net to catch the two falling children. The door opens and Yamada is looking round a little worried. Taking my mask off with the free hand I send both my children the look.

“On the ground, now. Both of you. Yamada, I’m not mad trust me,” I look to the worried teacher.

Dayo and Ejiro climb down. Placing my mask on the desk I retract the plants and hold my hand toward the kids.

“Who’s that?”

“These are my sons. Dayo and Ejiro, sadly it seems I’ve jumped the gun by trying to help them learn their quirks. They have the same quirk surprisingly, both stare at plants to make them grow and manipulate them. But Ejiro can manipulate them if he’s holding them.” I explain. “The staring factor of their quirks comes from their father’s quirk. Like I was trying to say, being a hero has consequences. All action has consequences, I could have chosen to stay in Japan and handle my little brother’s situation remotely. Or I could have left to handle that situation and come back to Japan. But I decided to return to America. I wouldn’t change my decision for the world. Since I haven’t stopped being a Hero, I could slowly return to hero work, but I find my work as a mom just a little bit more important. If I spend my life regretting an action, I’ll possibly cause a bigger problem by not focusing on the present.”

“Aizawa sensei, they look a lot like you,” one girl says.              

I look at Aizawa and then back at my children and I chuckle. “They do look similar, don’t they?”

His eyes go wide as I send him a wink before putting my mask back on.

“It was nice meeting you class 1A. Please remember that just because there were different actions you could have taken does not invalidate your choice. You chose it. Just like how all of you decided to become heroes and continue attending school. Also weighing your value solely based on how the public views you is stupid, and frankly it worked fine for the father of my children to not be a flashy hero.”

It was a quick venture back to our apartment. My frustration died down as I look over Dayo and Ejiro for any kind of injury. Even though I had yet to even utter a syllable of how worried I was, the moment I let go of him Ejiro began sobbing. Dayo looks to his twin brother with a confused look. Instead of scolding them I just let them rest in their rooms.

After making dinner and putting the trays in front of their doors I pick my phone. Aizawa wanted to come over a few days later. Letting him I felt a bit awkward as I fixed my sweater to sit in a comfortable position. It was the moment that I didn’t want to look like a tired workaholic that I did. He sends me a slight nod before taking to the dinner table and letting me make some coffee.

“So, what happened after?”

“Besides making Ejiro cry, nothing. I’m just upset that they thought climbing that high was okay,” I frown. “I can’t train them to be careful of things like that or people might think I’m a terrible mom.”

“Can I talk to them?”

“Yeah, getting scolded by a teacher a few days after the incident is good.”

These kids must have a sixth sense for when their dad comes into the house.

“Mr. Aizawa, do you like our mom?” Ejiro asks as he walks out of his room.

Dayo sighs and shakes his head. “Mom doesn’t think about romantic relationships.”

“I hate that you decided that on your own.”

“Then do you like Mr. Aizawa?”

I sigh. “Of course, I do, but there are a lot of adult details that change how I can approach that.”

Dayo groans. “Why didn’t you just stay with our dad?”

I frown. “Dayo.”

“Dayo’s right, mom why didn’t you stay with our dad?” Ejiro adds.

“I have an idea, why don’t we get some dinner and just watch a movie today?” Aizawa states.

I frown. “Fine.”

This isn’t a bad idea in theory, but I’m sure this man has something up his sleeve. He doesn’t do anything unnecessary. He picked where we got the food from, I went to go pick it up while he stayed with the boys. When I came back it was still fine, no fires or plants creeping from the rooms.

“Mom, your queen ann is looking sad,” Dayo points out.

“I haven’t had time to tend to my plants, remember who wanted me to come and record for your school sports festival?” I shake my head.

Aizawa looks at me and raises a brow. “How athletic are they?”

I chuckle. “Surprisingly Dayo is the more athletic one. Ejiro has his moments. Wanna see their pictures?”

“MOM!”

Putting my food down I lean toward the small bookshelf we have by the entertainment system. Grabbing the album, I place it on my lap and show Aizawa.

“Which pictures you want to see first?”

“How about the beginning?” he suggests.

“Mom no.” Ejiro whines.

“Oh, hush up.” I giggle. “Let him see.”

Dayo stops eating. “Let dad see what he missed.”

Aizawa practically chokes on his food.

“Yeah you two are too similar.” I roll my eyes.

After regaining his composure Aizawa takes the album. “So how often did you take pictures?”

“The invention of smart phones has been my saving grace. I’m surprised they even let me twist their hair at this point let alone invite me to sporting events.” I smile. “Finish your food and then you two can tell me how your twin sense told you that he was your dad.”

“That would ruin the surprise,” Dayo shakes his head.

Holding the album in my lap still I leaf through the pages slowly. Aizawa peeks over my shoulder as he looks at the pictures as well, the changes in his expression as I turn the pages makes the time it took to put everything together worth it. Ejiro and Dayo finish their food quickly.

“What is this?”

“Oh, that’s right, you’ve never met my little brother. Kaipo is a bit averse to pictures, but he was holding the boys while we were at the beach,” I sigh. “Surprisingly enough for someone with a water plant quirk he doesn’t like the ocean.”

He takes the album from me and looks at the page then back up at me. “You both look so similar I thought he might be your twin.”

“He’s four years younger than me.” I chuckle.

“Are we allowed to call Mr. Aizawa, dad, now?” Ejiro asks.

Aizawa chuckles. “I don’t mind.”

I nod. “As long as he is okay with it.”

“Dad, do you think we can spend more time with you?” Dayo whispers. “That way mom has more time to spend being a hero too.”

“Wait, Dayo- ”

Aizawa shakes his head. “I don’t think I can do that kiddo. I still got hero work on the side, and honestly my class has most of my hands tied. Maybe your mom will start hero work when she’s ready.”

Fixing my posture, I sigh. “I was gonna start patrolling while you guys were in class once you start middle school. If I could start now I would, but I’m not confident that you guys would be fine without me here after school.”

“What?! We can take care of ourselves.” Ejiro argues

“Five.” I glare.

He shuts his mouth, but this gets Aizawa’s attention.

“Five what?”

Dayo shakes his head furiously. Ejiro covers his ears.

“Five times. Let them be alone, each time I got a call because of the plants,” I explain. “Someone had to wear a quirk limiter while they were sleeping for six months.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Not our best moments.” Dayo grumbles. “But mom is really good at fixing plants, so the neighbors don’t mind.”

Aizawa starts chuckling. “Well if you ever need me to mind them when I’m not working, I don’t mind.”

[demico-art]

Wanted to draw some Stan fluff and more details kept piling up. Anyway, the idea here was that Ford was nerding and telling Stan about whatever he's discovered or thought of. It also looks like he's telling him a story :D A continuation <<<

[makismei]

nanami loves watching you do your nails. of course, he’s offered to pay for your nail salon visits but you decline; your at home manicures are a fun hobby and you have full control of what colours and designs get painted onto your nails.

so instead, he funds your little hobby.

you never have to worry about being short of polish, nail tips, glue or charms. he’s even learned how to do your nails the way you prefer and offers to paint your dominant hand.

you have materials at his apartment and he’ll often come home to you at the living room coffee table, hunched over and gluing down clear heart decals and bows.

you show him your hand. “look, i tried using acetone to blend the nail extension and cuticle.”

kento inspects it, gingerly holding your hand. he nods, “it blends in nicely, my love.”

he reaches into his pocket, setting down a new bottle of polish on the table—specifically, the one you’ve been eying for a few weeks.

“kento!” you smile, “you didn’t have to.”

he leans in, pressing his lips to yours. “i wanted to.”

[miss-jaye]

katsuki's parents are fashion designers, so of course, you'd ask him for his opinion on the perfect outfit for lunch with them.

you've been in the bedroom for 10 minutes. katsuki’s been in the kitchen just as long, already dressed, waiting for you. he sighed, patience wearing thin. "you having trouble in there, doll?" he called out, his voice carrying through the house.

"nope! i'm done actually, coming down!" you replied, the sound of your heels clicking on the floorboards following soon after.

your fiance glanced at the staircase and… wow.

for a moment, it was like the world faded away.

all he could see was you.

you, in that beautiful dress.

a white dress with a delicate rose pattern, paired with red heels. your hair was down, loosely curled, with a white cardigan draped over your arm.

katsuki couldn’t tear his eyes away. you looked effortlessly stunning, and it hit him all at once—how lucky he was.

"so, what do you think?" your voice brought him back to the present. you were closer now, smiling up at him, that irresistible smile that always made his heart do somersaults. "the best part of this dress? it has pockets!" you added, grinning.

he blinked, trying to shake off the daze. "what's with you women and pockets in dresses?" he muttered, though there was no bite in his tone.

you pouted, and katsuki barely resisted the urge to reach out and pinch your cheeks, frustrated by just how cute you were. "pockets in dresses are rare, y'know? and it’s a hassle to carry a bag if you’re just bringing a few things."

"then why the fuck don't you just wear pants?"

"they're uncomfortable."

the blond sighed, shaking his head. "whatever."

you rolled your eyes, not letting him off the hook. "you didn’t answer my question."

he raised an eyebrow, "hah?"

"what do you think of the dress?" you tilted your head, waiting.

he hummed, his gaze sweeping over you from head to toe, admiring every detail. instead of answering, he tilted your chin up and pressed a slow, sweet kiss to your lips, pouring all his thoughts and feelings into that one gesture.

you melted into him, resting your hands gently on his chest. katsuki pulled away just enough to grab your hand. "let’s go."

you smiled softly behind him. "okay."

you didn’t need words to know how katsuki felt about the dress—or about you. his actions said it all.

[obsesssedblerd]

Ryomen Sukuna watches his nephew—who has made an awful habit of playing with his food rather than eating it—carefully, narrowing his eyes when the two and a half year-old grabs his plastic bowl of fruit with his chubby hands. 

“You better not,” he says sternly. 

Yuuji Itadori looks up at him, his big brown eyes sparkling mischievously as he coos. He lifts his arms with a smile, raising the bowl above his head. 

“Don’t you dare—”  

“Bwah!” Yuuji throws the bowl, and it clatters noisily to the ground, the fruit inside of it landing wetly on the kitchen floor. 

“What is wrong with you?!” Sukuna groans irritatedly, grabbing the boy from his high chair and dangling him by his ankle. “How many times must I tell you that food is for eating and not for throwing?!” 

Now upside-down, Yuuji bursts into laughter. His eyes shut, and he swings his arms back and forth, completely unaware of how pissed his uncle is.

“Enough of your giggling. This is not for your entertainment, you brat.” 

“Brat!” Yuuji repeats. 

“No, you’re the brat!” Sukuna hisses through his teeth.

“No, you brat!” Yuuji babbles in between happy giggles, repeatedly using his new favorite word. “Brat, brat, brat!” 

You come downstairs, and your face splits into a wide smile at the scene. “Aw, I hope I’m not interrupting your playtime.” 

Sukuna rolls his eyes and rotates Yuuji so he’s no longer upside-down, passing the giggly bundle to you. “You are just in time. First he throws his food for the umpteenth time, and now he calls me a brat.” 

You snicker, resting Yuuji on your hip as your free hand fixes his messy pink hair. “Is that so, Yuuji? Well, you are right,” you say as you give Sukuna a wink, “he is just a big brat.” 

Your boyfriend groans as you and Yuuji laugh, grumbling something underneath his breath as he leaves the kitchen. 

But you catch the tiny hint of a smile. You always do.

[emmyrosee]

I have an image of this man, leave me alone I sWEAR TO GOD-

——

Geto does this thing with his nose.

It’s something you noticed not too long ago, something he does when he’s lost in thought, deep in his memories and trying to sort out the pieces of puzzles in his head.

His nose, the perfect nose on that perfect face-

Scrunches up.

It wrinkles under the thoughts moving around his head, twitching side to side with with monotone “uhhhhh…” when you ask him spontaneous questions.

It writhes when he tries to choose his words carefully, usually when they’re ones of scolding, and it almost takes your focus from the topic at hand to how absolutely precious the sight is.

And yeah, it wrinkles under the force of laughter that he lets out, when he’s deep in joy and his smile is too big to contain, but that’s a corner of love that’s reserved for his hidden dimples. His crinkled little nose is far easier to activate.

Even right now, as you ask him what dinners he has planned the rest of the week, you’re barely able to keep track of anything he’s listing off because that pretty little nose scrunches between the days of the week.

“I guess I got the hamster wheel going?” You tease, chin resting dreamily on the palm of your hand. He cocks a brow, his lip twitching slightly in annoyance.

Along with his nose, of course.

“What did you call me?”

“I didn’t call you anything,” you snicker. “In your head. You’re deep in thought.”

“…. What?”

You roll your eyes, but the smile stays all the same, “nothing, babe. I just like your thinking face.”

“You should like all of my faces,” he says, wrinkling his nose as if wanting to say more, but fighting it back.

You smirk. Then, you lean up to gently grip his chin and kiss the tip of that wriggling nose.

“You’ve got no idea, Suguru.”

[satoruxx]

random but toji definitely torments you with his stubble. it’s not often that he lets it grow, usually pretty quick to shave it down, but whenever he gets a little lazy with it he becomes downright evil.

mostly because he enjoys the way you squeal when the rough texture brushes over your skin. it starts off as an accident, just an honest reaction when you come home one night and he presses a chaste kiss to your throat. he definitely does not expect the way you jump and swat at him, complaining about how his beard is too scratchy and that it tickles.

you can’t blame him for using it to his advantage.

so now whenever he notices that his stubble has gotten a little rough you bet he’s gonna be chasing you around, lips tugging into his trademark smirk as he hears your peals of laughter. it’s a like a game—see how quick he can get his hands on you.

and when he inevitably does you’re already begging over your laughs, going “oh god toji please don’t—!”

but he’s already grabbing your wrist and rubbing it across his chin, hearing the amused whines and complaints as you finally accept defeat. he only chuckles when you call him names and say he’s the worst and such, eagerly diving for your cheek and your neck to be as obnoxious as possible.

and on the other hand, you have your own fun—whenever he shaves you’re always bouncing around him and reaching for his cheeks, eager to feel the silky smooth skin under your palms. and he can only sigh indulgently, making a show out of rolling his eyes dramatically but still taking your palms and pressing them to his jaw.

you laugh and gush over how soft it is and he just shakes his head, lips pulling into a wry smirk as he bends down to let you do whatever you’d like.

“see you’re so soft, toji!” you giggle, smushing his cheeks between your palms and he just scoffs—amused.

“yeah yeah, whatever,” he grunts, making a move to playfully bite at your fingers. “i’ll get y’next time.”

“dare you to try,” you stick your tongue out at him, digging your fingers into his cheeks so that his lips are pouting. you can see the challenge settle into his eyes.

of course, he gets you back later, stubble scraping over your skin as soon as he’s able to.

and funnily enough, he gets so used to it that he starts doing it to the other sweet baby that enters his life.

“oh great,” you laugh, gently smacking his bicep as he presses closer to your body. “at least leave him out of this.”

“impossible,” toji grins, letting his chin brush over chubby fingers. “he needs to learn early.”

little baby megumi squeals from where he’s perched on toji’s chest, arms flapping at the ticklish sensation. you chuckle, reaching out to drag a finger over his chubby cheeks, to which he just babbles.

“learn that you’re a demon?” you ask sarcastically, and toji flashes you a canine smirk. he turns his head to drag his chin over your shoulder, smiling broader at your squeal.

“sure, let’s go with that.”

[eksvnd]

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

chocolate confession ♡

fem reader, part 2 for the ring pop proposal miniseries since yall were asking for it ! fem reader, soft n worried katsu, white day chocolates, katsu n reader r in highschool (ignore the no dorms blehh :P) in this one, this also reeks of my ocxcanon ship msorry yall lolololol, i dont think there are any warnings, but lemme know if i missed sum else !

the first person who realizes katsuki is trying to confess to you is his mom because he hasn't left the kitchen since he'd banished everyone from coming in as soon as the sun peeked through the curtains.

the older woman had no idea what the sounds of pots and pans clanging, mixed with not-so-quiet cursing meant, at first. but she figured it out quickly, call it mother's intuition, or the fact that she checked her calendar and realized tomorrow was white day.

mitsuki knew her son was going to confess to you when he came back from school with a cutely wrapped box of chocolates. her katsuki was still rowdy—if not rowdier and even less approachable than he was as a chubby cheeked little boy, so she guessed by the blush and barely suppressed smile on his face that—

"ouuu, got yourself some chocolates ? aren't you a heartthrob.." she teased "who'd you get those from ?"

katsuki scoffed at his mothers teasing. he rolled his eyes, but they wouldn't—or rather couldn't stray far away from the wrapped sweet treats. he runs his thumb over the ribbon tied in front.

"..yn gave 'em to me." he huffs proudly.

as she guessed, they came from you. of course.

katsuki is still—if not even more protective over everything that involves you, practically growling at his mom's not so sneaky attempts at trying to sneak a chocolate when he had opened the box "yn made 'em for me, so no touchin'." he snarled, stomping over to his room and ignoring his mom's knowing smirk when he made his way up the stairs.

this memory brings her back to now when she suddenly hears..nothing. absolute silence in contrast to all the ruckus from only a few seconds ago. and then the door creaks open just a bit and mitsuki sees her son's head peek out from the corner. she looks up from her magazine to raise a brow in question and the blond boy glares, jolting his head to the side in a silent plea for her to come over.

she saunters to the door, knowing smirk growing wider the more her son's grumpy face comes into view. she gets a peek of her kitchen through the small crack her son allowed her to see. she had to admit, though rowdy, katsuki was anything but messy. even though the dishes piled up, she knew he'd clean them up soon enough. she looks down at him and he avoids eye contact.

"can i come into my kitchen now ?" she smirks. katsuki scoffs at his feet. he grumbles something unintelligible before side stepping and telling her to 'just come in already.'

the woman is greeted with a batch of freshly made chocolates, which she assumes are one's you like if she knew how enamoured her katsuki was with you.

"ouu, who are these for, hm ?" she teased, but if he knew her son well enough she knew that these—

"sh-shut up !" katsuki snapped, cheeks turning red and eyes drifting around the room "you know who.." he challenges. mitsuki smirks wider, crossing her arms.

as she guessed, they're for you.

"okay.." she humors him, shifting her weight to her other leg " and what do you need me to do here ?"

katsuki inhales shortly to himself. he picks up one of the chocolates, not from your tray because those were for you and no one else, but from another tray she hadn't noticed of sloppier batches.

"try this." is all he says. handing her a little piece of deformed chocolate and she plops it into her mouth. she takes the time to let the sweet treat melt on her tongue before letting out a pleased hum. katsuki straightens up and his eyes shine and brighten the slightest bit.

"mhm, these are good." she acknowledged "but why don't i get one of the pretty ones ?" she teases. her katsuki all but scoffs in her face, simply stating that "these are for yn, not you."

and mitsuki realizes. he must've been working for hours trying to make these chocolates perfect for you, she guessed. her heart warms and her eyes soften at her son's adoration for you.

"but the one you gave me is good too, why can't you just give her one of those ?" at that, katsuki shoots her an incredulous look, like she had just told him something utterly unimaginable.

"i can't go around givin' her shitty chocolates ! 'specially not if i.." he trails off suddenly, grumbling with balled fists. he wipes at his cheek to try and wipe off his embarrassment. mitsuki feels her smile practically reach her ears. she's too good at this.

"if you what ?" she sings, leaning towards her son. he grumbles.

"if i—stop looking at me like that ! s'creepy so knock it off !" the blond snapped, face and ears a bright shade of pink and mitsuki can't help but bark out a loud laugh at her son's flustered state, her laugh drowns out the low growl he makes. she decides to spare him after a good giggle.

"okay, okay. i get it." she reassures. because she does, of course she does. but she sees something is wrong with the way her son seems satisfied for only a second before he's chewing at his lower lip and the way he wipes his hands against his pants. she knows her katsuki is extremely hard to handle. he could be quite the brat, but also extremely stubborn (she thinks she might know where he got that from.) so asking him simply what was wrong was out of the question. so she decides to coax him into it.

"you gonna give them to her tomorrow ?" he nods, hiding his eyes with his bangs.

"they're good. so i'm gonna give 'em to her tomorrow." her son nods at his mumbled pep talk, but the tension between his brows doesn't let up and after a moment, he sighs grumpily.

"what if i, like, fuck it up..?" mitsuki's eyes soften at her son's insecurities showing despite himself.

"how would you do that ? all you gotta do is hand them over." she asks softly. katsuki huffs.

"it's not that simple," he retorts "what if i make it weird ? what if i make things between us weird an' she doesn't wanna be with me anymore..." the sad tone of voice and the angry little puppy dog eyes make mitsuki melt, despite growing up a lot. despite being quippy and rowdy and a major brat, her katsuki will always be her little boy tugging at the bag of sweet ring pops he'd begged her to buy at the grocery store. her little boy who smiled a bright determined smile as the bag crinkled in his hand following his proud stomps to the car back home, ready for tomorrow.

a surprised throaty noise escapes katsuki when his mom places a hand in his hair, running her fingers through it. he makes a displeased noise, again, but doesn't try to stop her. mitsuki does realize her son is trying to confess to you with these chocolates, but she's a woman too and she knows you, she's known you since you were small and she knows how much you care about her son. she knows from the way katsuki kept the chocolates to himself, the barely supressed giddiness in all of his actions and the way he took his time enjoying every bite she knows and realizes that these chocolates were most definitely just for him.

and she guessed maybe you were trying to tell him something too.

she knew her katsuki had absolutely nothing to worry about, because you carried you empty ring pop container around with you in your bag and proudly explained it was 'your husband katsu' that gave it to you with a giggle. because you'd kiss his cheek without worrying about the ooh's and the kissy noises, only her son's cherry red cheeks but proud smile. because you'd giggle and laugh when he still called you his wife well into elementary school, and because you still smile so wide at the mention of his little ring pop proposal. and so, she smiled. startling katsuki by rubbing his hair fast like an almost noogie. he growls at the sudden shift, gripping his mother's arm and pulling away with a scowl, rubbing and trying to fix his hair. "the hell are you doin', hag ?!" her son seethed, and all she can do is smile.

"you got nothin' to worry about, katsuki." she says sincerely, the boy's arms drop and altough his barely there pout remains he tries to act tough, raising a brow at her "how do you know that ?"

"call it mother's intuition." her smile widens at his scoff and rolled eyes, he's better at it now and she laughs. " why do you wanna give these to her ?" she urges. he thinks for a moment, before his cheeks burn red again but his eyes go soft and warm and so much more enamoured with you than he was all those years ago in the car.

"cus..i like her.." he confesses "an' i don't want anybody else to do it before me." he finishes bitterly.

he's always been protective of you. any other boy you were paired up with or sat next to when the class seating order changed was considered public enemy number one for a while. of course, you had him on a leash, always being able to soothe him by saying that he was your number one best friend. and that was more than enough for him to throw smart glares and snarky smirks, grabbing your hand and dragging you off somewhere to show you something cool. something he knew you'd find cool because he prided himself in knowing exactly what you liked more than the other boys. your favorite ice cream, flowers, and chocolate flavor.

and mitsuki smiles. "right, you like her. so you can't let that scare you off, can you ?" mitsuki feels her heart soaring with pride, albeit with a little amusement when her son scoffs in response "course not. i ain't scared of shit." he states, she decides to ignore the irony of his statement for now.

"of course," she nods "and just between us, i think she likes you, too. i dunno how she does but.." katsuki's eyes widen like she'd just told him something ridiculous, completely ignoring her jab at him. she has to hold back a harsh laugh at how oblivious her son could be.

"that's just my guess though !" she shrugs nonchalantly "but there's only one way to find out if i'm right.."

after a beat, katsuki nods to himself with a grunt, grabbing the tray of chocolates and putting it in the fridge, ready for tomorrow, and wordlessly rolling up his sleeves and starting the dishes, as mitsuki guessed, and she smiles. she pets her son's head again briefly, ignoring his dissaproving grumbles, before giving him a pat on the back and wishing him good luck.

the next day, katsuki walks over to her, sat on the couch, immediately after coming back from school, with a proud smirk and gleaming red cheeks. and mitsuki knew she had nothing to worry about as she grins back.

taglist *if your name is pink i unfortunately couldn’t tag you :(( : @73isthebestnumber @gold24fish @m-inluv @katsuisbaby @teddiiursulas-ink @moonbabysstuff @brandydel @queenpiranhadon @chuugarettes @starieq @aishio14 @andysdrafts @hyunorue @touyasprettydoll @itsfiive @annoying-bitxh @h0nestly-though @atinytiredpanromantic @mikalame @itzjustj-1000 @deepressed @evam23 @erenstitanweave @m-0ona @chaoticgay13 @lotusstarr @koreluvsspring @giannitaa @waterstarz @nayeonsdoormat @the-crazy-star-12 @kovu-bunnbunn

tumblr is tweakin so if some of your tags don't work m'so sorry :(((

[yuwuta]

CAN’T KEEP MY HANDS TO MYSELF (I MEAN I COULD, BUT WHY WOULD I WANT TO?) — JJK BOYS + TOO HOT

featuring. gojo, okkotsu, choso, itadori, fushiguro

content, warnings. playing too hot with the jjk boys—(too hot is a party game in which two people kiss while keeping their hands to themselves; the first person to touch their partner loses), making out, tongue sucking, uhhh slight predator/prey in yuuta’s oops, they’re a bunch of losers to be honest, there’s a word for the thing yuuji does but i don't know it lolol

word count. 1.6k

SATORU GOJO Satoru is prideful, but you also know that he is nothing if not handsy, borderline clingy on his worst days. The concept of personal space is foreign to him, he’s rarely not touching you when you’re in his proximity, and when you aren’t, he closes that gap—so you’re confident that he’ll lose this game. 

And he does. It takes ninety-two seconds for Satoru to put his hands on you; his palms cupping your cheeks, forcing your jaw open for him to lick at your tongue. You yelp in surprise, try to take in your victory, taunt that you’ve won, but Satoru’s playing an entirely different game now. “I know, I lost,” he pushes his thumbs at the corners of your mouth, parting your lips and staring at your open mouth. Briefly, his eyes flicker to yours, drinks in your pliant expression, the soft touch of your fingers around his wrists, the feel of your body sinking below him, and he smiles, “But I want something else right now. Indulge me?” 

You tap at his right wrist and he moves his thumbs away from your lips, stroking against the soft skin of your cheeks instead so you can speak, “You lost, you’re not supposed to make demands.” 

“Take pity on a rookie like me, won’t you?” Satoru hums, tilting his head to kiss your cheek, then closer, just below your bottom lip, “Please, sweets?” 

“Depends on what you want,” you pout, but your words are strained against Satoru’s kisses. He grins, guiding a thumb back to your lips, this time pressing past the barrier of your lips until they’re wrapped around his digit, smile turning cheshire when he feels you sucking, “I have a different game we can play instead.” 

YUUTA OKKOTSU “Ah, ah—” you pull away from Yuuta, much to his dismay, pulling the hem of your shirt from his grasp, “That counts as touching. You’re not supposed to touch, Yuuta.” 

He’s looking at you intensely, gaze bordering on predatory, slow blinking with blown-out pupils. He nods shallowly, moving his hand from where it was to your side, palm pressing into the couch next to your thigh; it lets him that much closer to you, the tip of his nose grazing yours, you can feel his laborious breaths tickle your lips. Yuuta tilts his head ever so slightly and pauses, blinks, waits—for you to make a sound, for you to tell him no again, for you to run. 

You don’t. He shifts his weight and positions his other hand to rest at your side, caging you between his arms, slotting you underneath his gaze. You curl underneath him, backing up until you’re pressed against the arm of the couch, until Yuuta’s crawled to slot his knee between your legs. You crane your neck away, but you’re still within his reach, and now you’ve presented the perfect canvas for him. He dips his head into your collarbone, leaves a deceptively soft kiss there before nosing up the expanse of your exposed skin and sinking his teeth into your neck. 

Yuuta feels you tense underneath him, body going rigid in a moment of surprise, and then slacking with an exhaled moan, like a bitten bunny. Reflexively, your hands find purchase in his hair, and Yuuta nips over the tender skin, and smiles, “Caught you.” 

CHOSO KAMO “You’re nervous,” you conclude, pulling away from the shallow kiss Choso gave you. 

Beside you, he’s flushed, a hand coming up to reach at the back of his neck as he replies, “I don’t know why,” he exhales, “It’s just... weird to not touch you. I have to think about not touching you, and that means I have to think, which tends to make me, you know... nervous.” 

You giggle, leaning in closer to him, careful not to touch; careful to keep your hips raised above his, even as you straddle him, keep your arms and hands at your sides even though the instinct is to wrap them around Choso’s neck. He doesn’t pull back, even though he should; you like that he doesn’t. “You don’t like to think about me?” 

“No—no! Not like that,” he’s too loud for the proximity, sighing in embarrassment shortly after; you’re too close, way too close, and he’s not supposed to touch, but he wants to—Choso doesn’t like this feeling of restraint, of constriction; it’s too close to when he had a hopeless crush on you, to when he was pining and praying you’d spare him the time of day. Isn’t the point of dating that he gets to have you? To touch you, to hold you—to not hold back? 

“Because I like to think about you,” you admit, leaning in even closer, pressing a kiss to the base of Choso’s neck—and he whines, “I think about you a lot, Choso.” 

The sound of his name from your lips is sweet torture, as is the way you trail your kisses up his neck, up his jaw, behind his ear. Choso’s certain he’s going to rip a hole in his jeans with how taut he’s pulling them between his fists. This isn’t fair—nothing about this is fair. “I don’t want to play anymore,” Choso whines, eyes screwing shut when you suck a hickey onto his collar.

“But we’ve only just started,” you giggle against his skin, “And nobody’s won yet.”

Choso bites his lips, his knuckles are sore, his resolve is weak, and you smell good, you feel good—and he can’t do this. Pathetic, maybe, but he doesn’t care; he didn’t make you yours to try and stay away from you. So, Choso gives in, unwinds his fists, places one hand on your waist, and the other against your back, pulling you flush against him, and burying his face in your neck. 

“There, I lose,” he grumbles, not caring for your laughter reverberating against his chest, “Now I can touch you as much as I want.” 

YUUJI ITADORI “Th—this isn’t fair,” you tremble, attempting to move away from his kisses, but you’re caged in between Yuuji and the wall. There’s nowhere for you to run, nothing for you to grab purchase onto but Yuuji—nothing to do but lose. 

“I didn’t hear any rules against this,” he feigns innocence, suckling at your skin, “Think it’s fair game.”

You close your eyes, trying to focus on something, anything else, but it’s hard when all you can see, all you can feel is Yuuji, Yuuji, Yuuji. Kissing up your neck, at your cheek, then your lips, and you find yourself sighing into his touch, balling your hands into fists to avoid the temptation of cupping his face. 

Yuuji moans when he feels your tongue against his, kisses you back fervently, swirling his tongue across yours and into the cavity of your mouth. He inhales all your breaths, makes it impossible for you to do anything but succumb to his kiss, to swallow his moans, to take everything he gives you. You didn’t expect Yuuji to have this much resolve—you’d anticipated a short, cute round of a silly party game, but you should have known better; Yuuji has never lost a challenge before, and you were naive, at best, to think otherwise.

Predictably, it’s you that lets go first, whining when Yuuji sucks on your tongue, hands trembling and reaching to hold him, to cling to him as some kind of recourse, unable to squirm or move anywhere else. That doesn’t stop him—Yuuji only sucks harder, only forces more moans out of you until you’re digging your nails into his shoulders and bending your knees, weak. 

Then he pulls back, leaving you breathless, tilting his head up to kiss your forehead and flashing you a grin that’s equal parts boyish and wicked with intent, “I win.” 

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO It’s the kind of thing he usually turns down; cliché, fruitless, and unnecessarily time-consuming; but it’s you, so he makes the exception. You’re too eager, positioning yourself to sit on your hands, your legs folded under your knees, peering up at him from where he’s sat slack against the couch, and he thinks you look awful cute on your knees for him.

“Okay, ready?” you smile, “Three, two—” but Megumi already knows his plan, already has his lips on yours before you can say “one,” drinking in your surprised yelp and greedily licking against your tongue when you part your lips to kiss him back. He turns his body towards you slightly, taking advantage of his height and position to bully you into chasing him upwards, to push his tongue into your mouth with ease. 

He indulges in the back and forth for a while, sighs into your kisses, groans when you nip at him. It’s when you pull away, that Megumi decides he’s played along long enough; when he can see your chest swell with heaving breaths, see your hands in your lap, neck craned and spit-slick lips that drive him to reach for you. He’s less than gentle, hands finding purchase on your hips, and forcefully pulling you into his lap, ignoring your yelping, choosing to turn them into moans when he sinks his teeth into your neck. Megumi licks, and bites, and bites, and bites, until he’s certain he’s left a mark, until he feels your hands tugging at his hair and giving him permission to splay his palms against your back and buck you forward.  

“I lose,” he hums, soothing over raw bitten skin with open-mouthed kisses, “So, how do you wanna punish me?”

[earthtooz]

jealous ratio bc i wont him, inspired by the simulated universe occurrence, banter about marriage hehe

"Dr. No. 5 asked me to be his research partner today," you mumble half-heartedly to Veritas. It was an ordinary night, you're curled into his side with your phone in hand, watching the latest series you've been invested in whilst he occupies his mind with a book, held by one hand whilst his other is wrapped around you.

However, when he registers your confession, he tenses, slightly scrunching the pages of his book as the arm around you stiffens, muscles contracting.

"And what did you say?" He asks, feigning collectedness.

"I agreed."

His book slams shut and he shoots upward to a sitting position, baffled by the nonchalance of your tone. How cruel, you have betrayed him in the most despicable of ways, do you not care? Agreeing to be someone else's research partner is akin to that of spitting on his heart and stomping it flat, have you no respect for the laws of academic loyalty (there is no such thing), or is he the only one in your relationship devoted to it?

An idiot. You will be working with an idiot and you somehow see no flaw in that, where is your integrity as his lover?

"What does that fool have that I don't?" He all but cries, yanking your phone from your hands and setting it on his bedside table.

"What are you blabbering about?" You ask, looking up at him with inquisitive eyes, confusion shining in your irises.

"I'm supposed to be your only research partner, I cannot believe that you've gone and betrayed me like this."

"Pray tell, Veritas, how is this a 'betrayal'?"

"I would never choose to be anyone's research partner if I'm not yours, but today I've discovered that my devotion is not only unreciprocated, but unappreciated! How unfathomable."

The purple-haired turns his muscular back to you, giving you the cold shoulder. Slowly you sit up and lean on his toned body, hand resting on his deltoid and you can already see the way he tries to fight the effects of your touch. "Dear, you wouldn't be anyone else's research partner because you think majority of people are 'idiots' and aren't worthwhile academics to invest time into."

"Precisely why I cannot believe that you have agreed to work with No. 5, who is undeniably, irrefutably, and undoubtedly, a simpleton!"

You bite your tongue when it threatens to spill that you think No. 5 is not as bad as Veritas assumes, but that would outrage the scholar even more and you do not want to spend the better half of your day purposefully ruining it.

"The pay was good," you reason, daring to place a kiss to his neck. "But you are still superior in my heart, Veritas. Do not fret, if I am to seek a research partner, you would be my first and only choice."

"How long will your project span for?" He asks begrudgingly.

"6 months of research, writing, and editing. After that, I am not too involved with the publishing process."

"Oh how it stains me picturing your name beside another imbecile's."

You sigh, sitting up straighter to wrap both arms around his neck. "Your name could be beside mine permanently if you got down to one knee and presented me a ring, but alas, perhaps I shall be waiting another few research papers for that to happen."

You can't see the fond smile on his face, but you yelp when he turns around suddenly to push you against the comfort of your mattress, his lips claiming yours.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[sukunasteeth]

Picking You Up From Work

Sukuna leans on the bumper of his Camaro, hoping a drop of rain doesn’t land perfectly on the tip of his cigarette and snuff it out. He’s pretending not to watch the front door of your workplace, like an anxious dog waiting for his owner to come home, but it’s ten minutes past the time you said you’d be out, and he was ready to take you to his apartment and settle down for the night. It had been a long day- he wanted to forget it in the taste of your whimpering on his tongue.

Customers pass him on their way into your workplace. Sukuna wonders briefly what has them whispering to each other and sneaking glances over at him: the nearly sixty year old car or the man covered in tattoos leaning against it?

Fifteen minutes pass before he checks his phone again. It was unlike you to be late, you knew Sukuna had a pet peeve of not being on time and, despite how hairbrained you were, he knew you tried to meet him halfway. Looking over his shoulder, he peeks at the flowers sitting on the passenger seat waiting for you. If he had known you'd be a minute, he would have put a splash of water in the bottom of the flower wrap holding the bouquet together. He clicks his tongue in disappointment, hoping they don’t wilt by the time you get to them.

“I’m sorry, I have to get going-” Your voice chimes through the sound of the rainfall like a cleansing bell, bringing Sukuna’s attention snapping back towards the exit of your work.

You're standing halfway between his car and the building, directly in the middle of the parking lot. A man dressed in a similar uniform to yours is standing a little too close to you for Sukuna’s comfort.

He flicks the ash off of the end of his cigarette and takes a drag.

~

“Are you sure?”

It’s been a long day.

“We could go get some coffee and just hangout for a bit-”

A really long day.

Granted: working customer service you expected long days. Grating days. Days in which you questioned your faith in humanity. But, that all usually ended when you clocked out for the night and headed home. You could easily forget all of it at the door. Tonight, however, the annoyance of having to save face continues.

You had been trying to give this guy a hint all day as he followed you around, desperate to catch your attention and doing anything to gain a brownie point. It was really starting to tick you off.

Not only that, you knew Sukuna was waiting for you somewhere in the parking lot and it was only a matter of time before this man was decapitated before your very eyes.

Dammit, you just wanted to go home.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I’ve got someone waiting for me. Have a good night!” You try to wave him off, offering a polite smile before you turn your back to him.

"Who's waiting for you?" Sam calls out, still not catching the hint.

Before you can reply, a hand reaches around your waist, securing you to a familiar side- but you've been on edge all day, just waiting for your coworker to make one bold wrong move. On instinct, you snatch the wrist at your hip with a deathgrip before realization is able to save you.

Your eyes whip up to meet Sukuna's smirking gaze, his smile flashing into that serpentine grin that makes your fight or flight mode go off.

"Ohoho-" He chuckles, and there’s a mischievous darkness lurking beneath it. 

"'Kuna!" You ease your grip immediately, cradling his hand in sympathy. Part of you is instantly relieved he’s here to sweep you away, and the other part is sweating over how he’s going to handle this situation.  

Sukuna could be a bit possessive. 

"Good grip." He purrs, snatching up your own hand instead and continuing his original plan of tucking you securely into his side. "You turned your back to the scum bag, though." He tsks quietly. "My brat should know better."

Sukuna easily turns the both of you around, lifting you slightly to move without tripping you. You’re forced to face your coworker once again, although you notice that your unease has dissipated with Sukuna next to you now. 

“Is this...? A-Are you guys…” Sam sneers at Sukuna's sudden appearance, his poorly shaven lip curling up in disgust. 

Sukuna merely hums in response, “Every night while you’re wet dreamin’ about it.”

“S-Sukuna!” You interrupt, squeezing his fingers. Heat burns in your ears and you can feel them going pink under Sam’s now incredulous stare. “Is… my… yes.” You finish quietly, trying to avoid either one of the men watching you. Letting people into your personal life was not something you liked to do, even though you're sure your fiance would love it if you screamed it from the rooftops.

“Aw,” Sukuna makes a fond, sentimental noise and you press your elbow into his rib cage when you hear a mischievous lilt to his tone. 

“You and this guy?” Sam gives Sukuna an obvious once over, crossing his gangly arms over his chest in disapproval. “He’s not even your type!”

Oh.

Maybe this guy deserved a good beating.

Even you were too afraid to look at your fiance at that moment, you could tell by the look on Sam’s face that Sukuna wasn’t happy. 

The scariest part about Sukuna getting angry, was the lack of reaction. There was no glaring. No muscles going rigid. No shouting. There was only this overwhelming sense of danger, like a prey animal realizing it was about to meet its predator. 

Sam tries to fix it, sensing the murderous intent hanging in the air, but his ego still tries to bite: “Look, dude, I don’t mean any harm. I just think she needs a gentleman.”

…

Now that piques your interest.

You need a gentleman?

You almost completely forget about Sukuna for a moment, your head snapping in your coworker's direction with breakneck speed. 

“Gentleman?” You repeat, scoffing. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve been breathing down my neck like a fucking animal in heat all day. Practically begging for half a second of female attention in any form you can get it and you’re standing here-after trying to follow me to my car like some fucking pervert- and you’re trying to tell me you’re a gentleman?”

When you try to take a step forward, you're reminded of Sukuna's unrelenting grip on your hip bone, holding you in place.

“Calm down- all I wanted to do was walk you to your car.” Your ill-favored coworker rolls his eyes, although you can sense his discomfort in the way he takes a few steps away from you. His ego speaks again, and you see red. “You don’t have to be such a bitch about it.” 

What.

“Alright, alright” Sukuna is shoving something cold and jagged into your hands, distracting the sudden confused rage that washes over you. Before you can expel it, he unfastens his hand from around your waist and nudges you in the direction behind him. “Go start the car.”

You blink up at him, taken back by the entire situation. His keys dangle in your frozen fingers, clinking together. 

Sukuna knows you're mad. Knows the only thing on your mind is curb stomping the man in front of you. And you know he won't let you get anywhere near that.

“Come on, Duckie.” He purses his lower lip in a mock pout when you don't turn to leave immediately. There’s something dark glittering behind the faux playfulness in his eyes, reassuring you that nobody was going to get off easy, asking you politely to turn your gaze from what he was about to do.

His calloused thumb sweeps over your fingertips, gliding over the deep red nail polish there. The kiss he presses against your knuckles is one meant for royalty. Soft and sweet. And incredibly persuasive. “I just got these nails done. Lemme keep ‘em pretty for ya.” 

~

When Sukuna opens the driver side door and slides in, fifteen minutes have passed. There’s a smear of blood on his cheek that matches the one on his knuckles, the red catches his eye in the review mirror. He licks his finger, using his spit to try and wipe it off before he turns to meet you, smiling sweetly. 

“What should we get for dinner?"

[lilacgaby]

katsuki's who's love language is physical touch but you're pregnant so it's ten times b̶e̶t̶t̶e̶r̶ worse.

katsuki who always had his hand on you even before you got pregnant, always touching you in some way, he just liked feeling that you were there with him.

but, when you tell him you're pregnant? he goes crazy. now you can't even think of a time around him when you're not being held in some way.

he holds your stomach, your hand, he asks you to be close as he cooks for you (a special diet to keep the baby and you healthy), and if he can't touch you he wants you in his sights.

you're at work? send him a photo just for fun. going to the store? you can facetime him, it's just patrol. going out with your friends? text him updates frequently.

his days off are now spent lazing around the house, you in his arms the entire day. laying on the couch with you on his lap, watching something on the bed with his head in your lap, playing with your hair as you scroll on your phone.

you just give him so much cuteness agression. he becomes borderline clingy and even though he'd rather die than say it, he literally needs your attention bad.

he'll call you to ask why you're not answering your texts, pull down your phone to make you look at him, poke at you so you get annoyed and finally look over at him.

and when your baby is born? seems the clinging trait is genetic, now you have two losers hanging on to you as you just want to watch your show in peace.

[echoes-of-the-unknown]

And then he was fine, don’t worry about it :)

[miyakuli]

** Permission to post it was granted by the artist Do not repost/edit the art without permission Please, support the artist on their pages too **

Artist : Comet Bug (twitter / IG)

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