#he’d be so good at it

[inkykeiji]

i am this close to writing joshua as the sweetest, softest, slyest, sickest yandere ever i swear to the gods

#uGH NO BUT HE’D BE SO GOOD AT IT????????????? #he’d be SO good at it #because he’s so chaaaarming and charismatic #he’d be extremely subtle and inconspicuous with it #and you wouldn’t notice how sick he truly is until you’re in WAY too deep #and it’s only when you’ve been buried within him for a long long looong time that you look back and with heavy horror and icy dread realize #the culmination of his actions #the link; the trail he set ablaze #slow and smoldering #something that burns deep beneath the ground; so deep you don’t even feel the heat until it’s raging beneath your feet #and even then it’s just a soft caress #because the blaze is burrowed so deeply #anyway <3 #i rly want to write him waaaaaaaaaaaah #inky.joshua #inky.ffxvi

[hydrophobic-penguin]

Hear me out ok:

Jedi Master Mace Windu, Mand’alor

#he’d be so good at it #the best #mace windu appreciation #mace windu

[starsdies]

oooooh pls pls pls I can’t call you home for the ask game! ✨

HELLO!!! so happy you asked this is actually an au i’ve had in my brain since like 2010. essentially, rather than commit to sidious and become vader (bcos of his intense guilt for what he’s done to padme and the jedi) - anakin fakes his own death and freezes himself in carbonite for a few years. once he’s out, he is determined to find the people he loves and right his wrongs—and in doing so takes on a new identity (new name, disguise, etc) as a bounty hunter and weapons smuggler. basically in doing so he is able to exist in the galaxy, aid the rebellion (bcos i deserve to see him do so OKAY!!) and find obi-wan. i like the idea of anakin finding obi-wan on accident, like through cross fire while he’s fulfilling a bounty lol. almost shoots him. their tethered bond surges again and he thinks he killed him. a lot of working through what’s happened and anakin given a second chance to be the man obi-wan helped him to be.

if u like anakin guilt, reconciling feelings and redemption then i am ready to give it to u <3

#also just wann write anakin as a greasy bounty hunter #he’d be SO good at it #and he doesn’t kill rebellion ppl #but he loves scamming the empire and screwing them over #he cant wait to kill sidious <3 #bounty hunter au #ask

[feralsteddie]

Daydreaming about Steve being a stay-at-home mom/housewife.

#steve harrington #he’d be so GOOD at it #and I say mom for both obvious reasons and because I hold that the titles of mom and dad aren’t gender based they’re socialpurpose based

[theclaravoyant]

Thinking about how Crowley thinks Aziraphale calls him when he’s bored (when nothing is happening) , when he’s “done something clever” (when something good happens), or when he needs help (when something bad happens) . Like. Crowley my beloved that’s all the times.

#he is in loooove with you #crowley x arizaphale #ineffable spouses #ineffable husbands #good omens #Aziraphale could be like “”’hey I saw a cool duck today #and thought of you #and when Crowley’s in That Mood he’d be like oh so you’re bored then #i knowwww it’s easier said than done Crowley #I am begging you to surrender to the mortifying ideal of being liked

[yasha-chainbreaker]

I actually think that were Jonathan Frakes younger, he’d be a great Kelsier

#he’s got that smile. the smile of a scamp! #he’d be so good at it

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i’ll relearn love at our kitchen table ; satoru gojo

synopsis; satoru doesn’t quite know what love is supposed to feel like. but if it means coming home to you, it can’t possibly be that much of a curse.

word count; 4.9k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, satoru gojo vs. the mortifying ordeal of being loved, fluff fluff fluff!!, a hint of angst if you reeeaallyyy squint, gojo’s pov, the babygirlification of satoru gojo, i just think being babied would fix him <33

a/n; i wanted to write something for suguru or shoko but this man is genuinely holding my brain hostage atp so more satoru fluff it is!! physically i could write gojo angst yes but emotionally? imagine the toll…

when satoru steps over the threshold to your apartment, he’s downright exhausted.

it’s a heavy kind of fatigue, a little sickening. the kind that seems to sneak its way into his bones, crawl its way under his skin. dragging him down, down, down.

a yawn slips from his lips.

the mission itself wasn’t too tough — anything is a breeze for satoru gojo, that fact needs no elaboration. this one was just a little more taxing than usual, slightly more important, which meant he had to deal with the technicalities of it all. had to listen to the elders go on and on about the importance of discretion, about finishing things swiftly and efficiently, and something else he didn’t stick around long enough to hear.

and the curse? a small fry, really. nothing worth fussing over. but it was annoying, with that irritatingly effective barrier technique. how long did he have to stay inside that goddamn veil before it let him get close enough to land a hit? 

satoru doesn’t want to think about it, can’t be bothered to figure it out when all he wants is to collapse into the warm comfort of a soft mattress. all he knows is that when it finally lifted, the night sky was the only thing he could see. a vacuum of stars — taunting in its perpetuity.

so, with all that being said; to say satoru feels a little worn out might be a bit of an understatement. 

hair slightly tousled, eyelids heavy with sleep-deprivation, he slumps against the wall and allows himself to simply breathe. a soft groan flows from his parted lips as he stretches idly, a small respite for his stiff and achy joints, his tired muscles. 

it’s been a long day. but satoru still finds it in him to exhale a relieved breath, to drag his blindfold down to his neck and kick off his shoes.

because it’s been a long, long day — but now he’s finally home.

(not just a house, not just an apartment, but a home. a place of comfort and belonging. satoru didn’t think that was a luxury he would ever be able to afford.)

the moment he lets the door close behind him, a particular scent greets him. soothing in its familiarity, the only thing in his life that never seems to change; a blend between fresh laundry, and watered houseplants, and something that smells a bit like honey. maybe even sweeter than usual, though satoru chalks that up to his mind playing tricks on him. 

it’s nice. so nice. coming back to something warm and real, a respite from his hectic work. a safe haven, of sorts, one that hasn’t been taken from him just yet.

satoru likes to think of your front door as a threshold between realms, a gap between within and without. one is dark in its saturation, plagued by that never-fading smell of iron, while the other is simply warm. sacred in its normalcy. 

everything looks just as it should, the same as when he rushed out this morning; a fluffy blanket draped over the couch haphazardly, that soft golden light streaming out from the kitchen, your shoes by the front door.

satoru blinks, drowsily.

wait.

why is the kitchen light still on?

as if his eyes could ever deceive him, satoru rubs the skin under them groggily — blinking once, then twice. 

yep, it’s still there — that soft fluorescent glow. a sight he’s come to associate with breakfast and dinner and a mellow kind of love, laughter shared over warm meals made by human hands. food tastes better, satoru has come to realize, when you have someone to eat it with. 

ah, but it’s odd. did you forget to turn the lights off? that’s not very like you. 

as if possessed by a strange, irresistible longing, his feet carry him to the kitchen in question. undeniably groggy, his uncoordinated steps are riddled with fatigue, but the yearning in his chest compels him to move forward anyway — a kind of yearning he only fully understands when he enters the space, and sees you slumped over the table, a familiar flicker of cursed energy capturing his attention.

you’re asleep.

satoru stills, where he stands by the threshold between the kitchen and the living room.

everything looks the same as always — cookie jars placed on the highest shelf to give him an excuse to help you reach them, origami made from newspapers he never bothers to read anyway, a vase standing proudly on the kitchen counter, stuffed with fresh flowers he bought for you two days ago. 

the red roses still haven’t wilted, shining in the blue of the moonlight flickering in. good. they’re pretty, but maybe next time he should get you something more original. maybe some sunflowers, something that could rival the brightness of your smile. do they even sell sunflowers this time of year? if you were awake, satoru would ask you, even though you always tell him to just google it —

but you're not awake. you’re fast asleep, cheek squished against the kitchen table, snoring softly.

satoru feels his mood lift at the sight alone, and suddenly he doesn’t feel as tired anymore. something soft and almost otherworldly sprouts in his chest, as he takes you in, stepping closer. almost giddy, just to see you up close.

you look so peaceful and relaxed, so content. elbows resting on the table as soft little breaths fall from your parted lips; he spots a bit of drool on the corner of your bottom lip, gaze fond as he wipes it away with his thumb. he can’t resist the urge to poke your cheek, and it makes you stir ever so slightly — lips curling up into something akin to a sleepy smile.

satoru grins.

(you’re so cute.)

despite his fatigue, he hears himself chuckle, all soft and amused and a little bit lovesick. it comes to him so easily, when he’s with you; that upturn of his lips, the butterflies in his stomach.

satoru is still getting used to it. this cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love. the kind that always feels like spring. but with every day that passes, the life he has with you becomes a little easier to digest. his future with you becomes a little easier to visualize.

yeah, he thinks. he could get used to this. coming home to you.

a soft smile, as he exhales a somewhat exasperated breath. you really shouldn’t be sleeping out here, though. silly.

satoru leans forward, inching closer to your pretty, sleeping face — he almost feels bad, waking you up like this. but he wants to hear your voice so badly.

so he cups your cheek, cold skin meeting warm, his hands still lingering with the bite of the midnight air. his fingertips tingle, buzzing with the body heat that trickles from your veins to his — one single touch is all it takes for him to soften.

the word that falls from his lips breaks the peaceful silence of the kitchen, breathing life into the moment. whispered into your ear, causing your brows to furrow as you gently slip from sleep’s embrace.

“baby…” 

satoru is smiling, when your eyelids flutter open. a sincere smile, reserved for you and his students. bathed in the mellow hue of the kitchen lamp’s illumination, a soft glow curls around the strands of his white hair, creating a halo of artificial light.

blinking sleepily, you gaze at him in silence. something shines in your eyes, something satoru tentatively recognizes as adoration. and he gazes right back at you, with heavy-lidded eyes and a lopsided smile. teasing, lighthearted. thumb smoothing over the apple of your cheek.

then he grins, hopelessly endeared. ”hey there, sleeping beauty.”

a yawn tumbles from your lips, and you lift yourself up. leaning into his touch. “toru…” you mumble, voice a little raspy but still oh so sweet.

satoru doesn’t say anything. he simply takes you into his arms, gently, touch so very delicate — as if you’re made of porcelain. and you just let yourself fall into his embrace, while he tucks you under his chin, safe and secure. 

it’s warm, he thinks. it feels right. complete, somehow.

and satoru thinks to himself that this must be what love feels like. what it’s supposed to feel like, anyhow, all sweet and light. all good and normal, something you never have to question. a cornerstone.

“you’re back…” you drawl, muffled into his uniform as your arms sneak around his thin waist. bringing him closer.

stroking the back of your head softly, satoru’s chest rumbles as he speaks, voice deep and a little raspy. soothing, a lullaby just for you. “yeah,” he hums. ”were you waiting?”

all you do is nuzzle further into his chest, cheek smooshed right over his heart; breathing out a sleepy little mhm that has him going weak at the knees, lips curling up helplessly.

“i wanted to…” you continue, stretching your arms a little to shrug away the remnants of sleep still clinging to your joints. “but i fell asleep.” 

satoru feels you move in his arms, until your jaw settles on top of his shoulder and you press a chaste kiss to his neck. an exhale leaves his lips, something tender in the way his breath wavers.

“welcome home,” is whispered, muffled against his skin. a sentence he never wants to go a single day without hearing. “did the mission go okay?”

he plants a kiss on top of your head, speaking in a low tilt, reassuring. “it did. just took a little longer than i thought.” a soft inhale, as he basks in the scent of your shampoo. “i wanted to text you, but the veil blocked my signal. sorry, sweetie.”

another soft yawn, and a shake of your head. “s’ fine, don’t worry,” you murmur. ”i’m just glad you’re okay.”

satoru chuckles. there’s a fondness to it, light. and then something else, something more heavy — it rumbles through his chest, almost like a purr, or a soothing thunderstorm. he can only hope it’s enough to comfort you.

“of course.” he says the words like they’re indisputable, like they’re written down in scriptures old and worn. cradling you in his strong arms, he pulls you closer to his chest. hoping you’ll feel his heartbeat against you, feel that he’s there. “i always am, aren’t i?”

no answer. only a tiny hum, absentminded.

and satoru knows, deep down, that his words don’t mean much. that a part of you is always going to worry over him, no matter how many times he tells you that there’s no need. that he’ll be fine.

the thought makes him feel a bit guilty. a little sick to his stomach, at the thought of being a source of your anxiety, the reason you can’t fall asleep at night — but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t also make him feel somewhat giddy. the thought tastes sweet, on his tongue, even though it probably shouldn’t.

having someone who worries for you is a luxury, satoru has come to realize. a luxury he has, now, one he hasn’t had since —

well. that’s neither here nor there.

(“be careful, satoru,” he recalls a kind boy saying.

but that was many, many springs ago.)

“oh, right.”

at the sound of your voice, satoru pulls away ever so slightly, gazing down at you. “hm?”

with a single step back, you look up at him. tilting your head. hands still resting securely on his waist, fingertips squeezing at his hips. lightly, affectionately. barely restrained fondness. ”have you had anything to eat yet?”

“yeah. got some takeout on my way back.”

satoru expects you to sigh in relief, at his instantaneous answer. you don’t like it when he skips meals, so these days he’s been trying not to do it as much. even though he doesn’t always have the time to eat properly, and even though the sweets he chews on between missions make him lose his appetite. but he makes an honest attempt, for you.

someone worries for him. someone wants him to eat well. that’s more than enough motivation for satoru gojo.

but you don’t exhale, and you don’t look very relieved, either. you look… disappointed. eyes suddenly glancing down at the floor, lips curled down into a barely noticeable frown. 

“oh,” you breathe. “okay. good.”

one second. then two. satoru tilts his head.

“why?” he stops to think. maybe… “did you make something?”

a certain recognition flickers in the depths of your eyes, and satoru thinks he must be right on the money. chewing at your bottom lip a little, you wait a moment before curling your fingers around his wrist — tugging him away from the kitchen table.

satoru follows, pliantly, until you’re standing in front of the fridge.

“well, um… here,” you mumble, somewhat sheepishly. fingers tapping at the handle before pulling it open. “take a look.”

satoru watches as the fridge door opens, slowly.

he blinks.

the first thing he sees is a single slice of strawberry shortcake. the strawberry looks fresh, glittering like a ruby on top of the softly whisked cream — and layers of sponge cake, that look like they’d melt in his mouth.

and that’s not all. there are a wide array of baked treats stuffed into the cramped space, protected by plastic wrapping and containers. everything from cupcakes with too much frosting — just the way he likes them — to chocolate chip cookies that crumble at the corners, satoru never seems to run out of things to look at. colourful treats, lovingly made and sitting right in front of him. it’s like he’s standing in a patisserie. they almost seem to sparkle, in the peripheral of his vision; glimmering softly, tantalizingly, like something out of a dream.

childish. that’s what nanami and shoko always call him, and he always protests, but —

maybe they have a point, after all. satoru certainly feels a little childish, when he realizes his eyes must be wide and bursting with child-like giddiness. a simple kind of joy, at seeing the ample selection in front of him. especially after that tedious mission prevented him from getting any sugar into his system.

”i did my best,” you mutter, sharing the sight with him as your eyes trail over a pretty bag of pink and green macarons. ”dunno if they turned out any good, but… i hope you’ll like them.”

satoru’s gaze flits over to you. 

he opens his mouth, and then closes it again.

”did you… make these?” a beat. ”for me?”

a blink. ”.. yeah?” who else would they be for?, your eyes seem to say. a little confused.

for a second, satoru can only stare at you. in complete silence, the tired cogs inside his head turning sluggishly as he thinks about the implications of that answer. and with a soft flutter, he feels his heartbeat pick up, warming him up from the inside out. 

you made them. with your own hands. you made all of these and you did it for him.

for some reason, satoru finds it oddly hard to speak, like someone stuffed a bunch of cupcakes down his throat. it’s weird — usually he can’t seem to stop talking, especially not when he’s with you, but… 

(something about this is just too tender.)

you must have been baking all day. no wonder the apartment smelled sweeter than usual, when he walked in.

as if itching to curl around one of the macarons, his fingers twitch, but satoru gulps and keeps them still. he wants to say something, anything, wants to thank you or ask why you’d spend so much of yourself on him, but satoru only stays silent.

and maybe it’s because he’s tired. maybe he’s just a little caught off guard. usually this wouldn’t be that hard to handle — he could just throw himself on you and shower you in kisses, show his appreciation with a flurry of dramatics and declarations of love. 

but right now there seems to be a disconnect, between satoru’s mind and body. maybe the mission drained him more than he realized. or maybe it’s more than that, maybe there’s nothing he can say or do; what words could he even begin to use to properly verbalize the emotions he’s feeling right now? how could his touch ever begin to measure up to the sweet sensation unfurling in his chest?

the silence doesn’t last long. as satoru stands there and spirals, you speak up, most likely chalking it up to him being too sleepy to react. 

”this mission was especially rough, right?” you begin, with a soft tilt of your head. a smile curls its way onto your lips, proud and sweet. sweeter than everything in the fridge combined.

one step, then two. you inch closer to him, until there’s almost no space between you — standing on your tiptoes, one hand on his shoulder and the other reaching for his head. smoothing down his tousled hair, fingers tangling themselves between the soft white strands and getting lost in them. and it’s gentle, the way you begin to pat his head, doting. 

then you speak. ”you did well.”

and it’s such a simple thing to say. three words, three syllables, but the words just tumble out from your mouth so earnestly that satoru can’t help but still. his breath hitches in his throat, softly, barely noticeable, but it’s there. that surprise.

he never knows how to act, when you get like this. patting his head and ruffling his hair like he’s something warm and sweet and worthy of love. something delicate, and not the strongest man on the planet. 

it’s so weird. you’re so weird.

(satoru leans into your touch without thinking, allowing his eyes to flutter shut.)

it’s perplexing, this feeling, and the fact that he can’t pinpoint why frustrates him to no end. isn’t this wrong? shouldn’t he be the one ruffling your hair, coddling you?

what formula is he supposed to follow here, exactly? should he tease you? pull away from your touch?

satoru wishes his six eyes could tell him the answer, but they don’t. they’ve never been very good with emotions, with things that aren’t directly tied to his suffering or imminent death.

(so ironic. all these eyes and nothing to see. they failed to see suguru’s silence, back then, and now they fail to see what reaction would please you the most. 

really, such a worthless ability to love people with.)

no answer comes to him. so satoru doesn’t tease you, and he doesn’t pull away.

it does feel slightly wrong, though. like this feeling isn’t something he’s supposed to have, there must be some mistake, he can’t possibly be allowed to feel so loved — can he? having you bake him all his favorite treats, run your fingers through his hair. praise him for working hard.

really. isn’t he being too coddled?

(… but it feels so nice.)

satoru suspects that there’s a lot to love he might not fully understand, just yet.

maybe tomorrow, when he’s a little less tired, he can try once again to give you the impression that he’s perfect. that he doesn’t need affection, that he doesn’t crave your support or your touch. that he’s above all that, the strongest, someone for you to depend on.

depend on him, while he depends on no one. that’s the kind of existence satoru gojo is. that’s how it should be, that’s all he knows, but…

— ah. it feels really nice when your nails scratch his scalp like that.

and suddenly, that’s all satoru can think. no more pesky what-ifs, or second guessing every good thing he gets. right now, it’s just you and him. your fingers in his hair, his footprints in your life.

satoru allows himself to melt under your touch, almost meekly. leaning down just a little further, to make it easier for you to smooth your hand over his head. he nuzzles into your palm with a happy little exhale, and for some reason he feels sort of bashful.

try as he might, he doesn’t manage to successfully shoo the emotion away, so all he can do is hope you don’t take note of it.

and you just continue your onslaught of affection, now ruffling his hair with both your hands, like he’s a big puppy getting cooed over. satoru has a nagging suspicion that you might be getting a little carried away, but he doesn’t stop you. greedy, in the way he wishes your hands would never leave his hair. the way he hopes you’ll never be too far away from him to reach.

”such a hard worker,” you coo, and he feels himself grow flustered. ”my baby deserves so much love.”

”woah there,” satoru chokes out, grinning, desperately hoping you won’t notice the red tint to his ears. ”are you flirting with me? i have a partner, you know.”

a giggle slips from your lips, sleepy and amused. ”oh, do you?” one of your hands goes to cup his cheek,  thumb caressing the edge of his jaw as you gaze at him fondly. ”lucky them.”

the grin you’re wearing is awfully bright. soft around the edges in a way that has him speechless, brain malfunctioning ever so slightly. satoru makes a mental note to scrap the sunflower idea — there has to be some brighter flower out there, one that can actually compete with your smile. sunflowers just won’t cut it.

but then you let go, and satoru gets broken out of his lovesick stupor.

when your hands leave his skin, his lips curl down into a soft pout. one he rushes to smooth away, before you can notice it.

you step back, failing to stifle a soft bout of laughter, but satoru knows it’s not because you saw it — he knows because your gaze is glued to his hair, and he internally winces when he thinks about how messy it must look, after your little bout of cuteness aggression. 

(you really are weird, finding him cute of all things.)

he expects you to tease him a little more, but you don’t, turning away and tapping your fingers on the kitchen counter. ”if i’d known you’d be home this late,” you speak, stealing one last glance at the pastries before closing the fridge. ”then i would’ve waited until tomorrow. so you could eat them fresh.”

an apology rests on satoru’s tongue, but as if sensing it, you rush to reassure him.

”ah, but this is fine too! they should still taste good!” you turn away, muttering. ”… hopefully.”

then you nod to yourself, crossing your arms absentmindedly. 

satoru looks at you for a second. 

then he steps forward, unable to resist the temptation — tapping at your wrist with the pads of his fingers, before gently curling them around it, coaxing you into turning your head towards him.

the kiss he presses to your lips is soft, delicate. his fingers trace along your jaw, cupping your cheek and tilting your face up slightly, just letting his warm lips rest against yours. sweet and chaste. he sighs into the kiss, content, and feels your pulse pick up.

then he moves down to your jaw, slow and methodical — lazy kisses, sleepy but so full of affection. and little pecks, scattered all over your lips, your cheek, the tip of your nose.

you seem to melt a little, against him, and satoru relishes in it; his ability to make you relax. far more valuable than the six eyes, he would argue.

when he pulls away from you, with what takes tremendous self-restraint, he’s smiling. his gaze meets yours, layered over with pure adoration, blue eyes crinkling as he looks at you. as if you’re his entire world. the kitchen light embraces him, cascading down the contours of his face; the bridge of his nose, the curve of his jaw, his barely noticeable dimples.

and there it is, again — that flicker of love in your eyes, that adoration. as if you’re looking at a painting, something too beautiful for words.

(satoru hopes you can see that very same adoration, reflected in his eyes as he looks at you.)

after a moment, he leans forward, to rest his jaw on the curve of your shoulder. you stumble a little under the weight, caged in as his arms hug your midriff.

”god,” he sighs, breathless, heavy with giddy disbelief. almost whining when he continues, nuzzling into your neck as if to hide. ”why are you so perfect, huh? i don’t get it.”

at that, you huff out a laugh, an amused little breath. wrapping your arms around his neck and scratching softly at his nape. satoru shudders just a little, arms tightening around you.

”stealing my line…” you mutter, accusatory, smile laced over with a honeyed affection. 

another amused breath, this time from him. this is one battle he won’t let you win. ”nah,” he grins, tugging you closer. ”’s mine.”

this is warm, he thinks. this feels right. complete, in a way that satoru never understood before you.

he could probably stand there forever, just basking in it. soaking up your body heat and the smell of your shampoo. until your warmth is all he knows, until he can never get your scent off his skin.

and satoru thinks that he could get used to this. a cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love, one that smells like spring and tastes like strawberry shortcakes and feels like tight hugs shared in kitchens.

your love makes him feel so human. and it’s scary, terrifying even, but it's also too good to pass up. it’s worth the risk. so worth everything.

a yawn leaves your lips, suddenly. satoru feels you soften in his embrace, nuzzling closer to him, stumbling just a tad; he doesn’t think it’s fair, for such a simple gesture to make him as happy as it does.

”sleepy?” he coos, smile giddy and fond. ”let’s go to bed, okay? no more sleeping on the kitchen table, silly.”

a disgruntled little huff resounds throughout the air, as you let your arms fall to your sides. ”that’s on you,” you declare, poking the plush of his chest with your finger. ”i only fell asleep because you took so long.”

a teasing glint flickers in satoru’s eyes.

”wanted to see me that badly, huh?” he coos. you roll your eyes, and he pulls your cheek. ”that’s cute.”

”so what if i did?”

satoru stills. you’re smiling, a little mischievous, but mostly sincere. and it really is very unfair of you, he thinks — to do this to him while his guard is down. 

but he manages to pull himself together, raising an amused eyebrow and booping your nose in a way that catches you off guard. blinking up at him, eyelashes fluttering. 

satoru clears his throat. ”well, that’s sweet.”

then he turns on his heel, suddenly, and strolls over to the fridge. ”but you know what’s even sweeter?” he chirps, fingers curling around the handle as he swiftly pulls it open. 

licking his lips, absentmindedly, his eyes trail over all the different pastries. so close yet so far, just out of reach; his fingers move forward, towards that mesmerizing slice of strawberry shortcake —

”— no.”

a hand settles on satoru’s waist, and tugs him away from his well-deserved prize. taking advantage of his momentary surprise, you close the fridge decisively, and give him an unimpressed raise of your eyebrow.

satoru whines, loud and grating. pouting sweetly, trying to make you feel bad. ”c’mon, just one bite —”

”no.”

”but they’re for me!”

”they’re for you to eat tomorrow. i was only gonna let you eat them tonight if you were on the brink of starvation, or something.”

”i am!”

”so the takeout was a lie?” you narrow your eyes at him, suddenly suspicious. ”have you been skipping meals, again?”

satoru pauses. weighing his options. ”well, no, but…”

”— then no.”

another soft whine. you turn away from him, when he tilts his head and gives you his best set of puppy dog eyes. in fear of giving in to them, satoru knows, as you have so many times before. ”please?” he tries, to no avail.

”you’re not eating sweets before bed, satoru,” you deadpan, and his smile falls further, exaggerated. ”and no, we are not having that conversation again.”

he can tell you’re trying to sound stern, but a giggle tumbles from your lips nonetheless, at the ridiculousness of the situation. keeping a grown man away from your fridge, knowing that he’ll wolf down every pastry he sees and get himself sick if you don’t. all while the man in question whines at you in protest, frowing so deeply, disappointment evident on his features.

(except satoru really isn’t very disappointed at all. like this, he gets to stare at your smile all he wants, after all; knowing you won’t notice it, too busy trying to keep yourself from giving in to his pleas.)

he tries again, one last time. just because he knows it’ll make you laugh. you do, a little exasperated, and satoru couldn’t be happier. 

and he thinks to himself that if this is what love is, if this is what it’s supposed to feel like, then it can’t possibly be that much of a curse. 

maybe he should revise the hypothesis, get a second opinion. he’ll have to ask you tomorrow, over pastries and coffee, and hear what you have to say.

as you both stumble to the bedroom, sleepy and a little delirious, satoru thinks that maybe this is enough; the lighthearted banter, the fond laughter. everything good and real and normal, within the space of your apartment, a home he never thought he’d have.

(and maybe, a second opinion isn’t necessary, after all. maybe it doesn’t really matter if love is a curse or not, as long as he gets to share it with you, like this.)

that night, satoru dreams. curled up with you beneath the blankets, limbs tangled together, as if he could never be close enough.

he dreams of kitchen lights, of sweet treats and warm hands. of spring breezes, and a love he’s finally beginning to accept for what it is:

good. wholly and thoroughly.

#lovesick satoru is my favorite satoru but yknow whats even better? lovesick satoru/lovesick reader #i just have such a firm belief that this man is a loser when hes genuinely in love ok. #hes so touch starved i think he’d crumble into a little puddle on the floor if u kissed his cheek #loves to tease and fluster you n hes so good at it but the moment u give him the same treatment? he is Gone. down for the count #spreading the loser satoru agenda <33 i love this man so dearly. #i NEED to hold his waist btw idk if i made that clear. i need it like i need air to breathe. like why is it so tiny if not to be held by me #had to hold myself back like a wolf during a full moon from describing his waist in too much detail youre welcome #overall idk what to say i just think love could fix him #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk x reader

[suja-janee]

Bireena request: 2/5 (request from anonymous)

Uhh slight boobie warning under the cut vvv

The titan versions get along a little TOO well hehehehehehehhehehe

#sus tag #bireena #bi han x sareena #sareena x bi han #bi Han #sareena #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #titan bi han #sub zero #mortal kombat mythologies #so yeah I don’t think bi Han can sing really #big bro needs some cough drops first #I’ve heard someone ai generate him singing and it almost cause me permanent damage 💀 #I don’t think he can dance either since he seems to be more focused on physical strength than gymnastics unlike Kuai Liang #but I think titan bi Han is nice enough that he’d make an attempt for Sareena #he’s just built different #a good guy..l well I mean not perfect I’m sure his kill count is just as bad as regular bi Han #but I think he took steps to ensure he’d be a better person #headcanon- Sareena is dead in his universe along with many of his loved ones so he has survivors guilt #which led him to becoming a better person #basically living his life they way he thought they’d want him to #for Sareena.. bi Han is dead in her universe so seeing this one nearly broke her heart again but she saw the significant improvement #she probably became the way she is because she got sick of people losing themselves to temptation on evil #so she’s probably got the same motives as Ashrah #also she’s got a daughter from her bi Han before he died #so it came as a shock when titan bi Han met the lil one #BUT ANY WAY THIS IS ALL NONSENSE #imma stop rambling for now #my art

[emmyrosee]

emmy imagine doing a fit check for suna on your lunch break or something and he’s just hyping you up the whole time (in his own way) while he’s on break from practice 😕🫶🏻

(inspired by me doing a fit check like literally rn while I wait for my friend to show up LOL)

IM GONNA LIGHT MYSELF ON FIRE-

You just prop your phone on the bureau, fix your hair a little bit and press the FaceTime button, smoothing your shirt and taking a deep breath in. The phone rings a few times, and you chew on your lip, fiddle with your fingers, suddenly very shy about showing your boyfriend your outfit, and-

“WHOOOOOO!” A loud cheer echos through the room, and you giggle and cover your face. “That’s my baby! WOOF! Hell yeah dawg! Gimme a twirl. C’mon. Spin for me, doll.”

You do, and he winces dramatically, “ah! My heart! Give it back!”

“Rinnie!” You snort, beaming happily at him. “You really love it?”

“Love it? Baby-“ he leans towards the microphone, “I’m being tame right now because Washio is right next to me.” He turns the camera slightly to show just a frame of Washio, who’s pinching his eyes.

“Thank you,” a gruff voice answers over the line.

“Hi, washio!”

“Yeah. Hey.”

Rintaro turns the camera back to him, “alright you looked to long, my turn again.” He smirks as you kick your shoe up to show him, and he licks his lips slightly, “you look really good, baby. Wanna give that big forehead a kiss.”

“MY FOREHEAD? Have you seen yours!” You scoff.

He rolls his eyes, “this isn’t about me. Go have fun with your friends before you ruin the mood.”

“Okay, stink,” you hum, grabbing the camera. “I love you so much.”

“Love you more, smelly.” He brings the camera to his lips for a dramatic kiss, and you roll your eyes as you place a small peck to the camera. “That was hot.”

“Sure was, rinnie.”

#he’d be so good to you 🥹🥹 #suna rintaro #suna rintaro fluff #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x f!reader #suna rintaro x reader fluff #suna rintaro imagine #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna #suna fluff #suna x reader #suna x f!reader #suna x reader fluff #suna imagine #suna haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader fluff #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x f!reader #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n

[emo-batboy]

Somewhere out there in the DC multiverse, there’s a world where Battinson’s parents didn’t die, and he became the Lance Stroll of Formula One racing. Wayne Enterprises has an F1 team, Thomas brought Bruce to races when he was young, they indulged his love of cars until he was winning kart races at 8. He BEGGED to help design the race cars, ended up making a great car, and now Wayne has turned from a midfield team to nearly top three.

You’d think everyone hates Bruce because he’s a nepo baby, but he’s just so nice and smiley (like Lance lol) that everyone loves him anyway. His dad is the team’s chairman and pretty hands-on just like Lawrence Stroll. Fans call Bruce the F1 Princess as a joke since he’s already the Prince of Gotham, but then it sticks, and now everyone makes edits of him with tiaras on every time he makes it to the podium. He doesn’t get it, but he’s not going to complain either. His fans are just silly. (He blushes so much when anyone calls him princess to his face, though. Fight me.)

Bruce still insists on everything being black because it’s his favorite color. It was already mostly black before he joined, but now it’s even blacker. His suit is all black. The car is all black. The helmet is all black. He loves it. He looks just like the dark, regal old money rich boy you’d imagine until he’s smiling and talking about racing. (Imagine a meme with two cars next to each other, one being WE’s. It says: “Bruce’s Car v. Bruce’s Personality.” The other one is covered in glitter obv.) One time, a little girl gives him a tiara that she painted black herself and asks him to wear it if he wins. (He does win. He puts it on at the podium. He’s embarrassed the entire time. The champagne rubs some of the black away. It’s a treasured memory and sits right on top in his trophy case.)

His fellow drivers call him Brucie to tease him. He’s a bit awkward during interviews, but that just makes him endearing. He’s also tall for an F1 driver (nepo baby core) so there’s always jokes about him towering over everyone. One time, he came second to Lewis Hamilton, but you could still see he was visibly standing taller on the podium, and people would not stop making jokes about it. (It was mostly his hair, but you know how Twitter is.) Speaking of hair, it will NOT stay flat. He looks insane every time he takes his helmet off. He could be sweating for hours in there but when he takes the thing off, he looks like he’s through in a tornado. (Again, memes.) He knows so much about car mechanics, even for a driver, and will regularly start talking to other drivers or the press about the tiniest of parts in the engine or break system, unaware that everyone is completely lost. (Also memes about that.)

When he’s 23, he suffers a pretty bad crash. It knocks him out for about twenty seconds, and his mom and dad are ready to pull him completely from the sport, but he refuses to stop, and despite missing a few races to recover—his dad’s still a doctor—he ends up winning the next race and gets to stay.

During his F1 career, it’s pretty much guaranteed that he’ll get fastest laps, but he only gets podium like 40–50% of the time. There’s always drama that apparently Wayne Enterprises is trying to become top three, but they insist that they’re not as competitive. They will always have respect for every team, and it shows. They never join in on protests. They always wish the other teams luck, and they genuinely congratulate the winners. Bruce is always the first to hug the winner :)

Before Bruce joined, the Wayne team was always a midfield team, and they were perfectly comfortable with it. WE had good-looking cars, they designed good-looking cars, and they sold good-looking cars, and F1 was just a way of promoting that. Thomas loved watching the races, and he was happy to see them get podium a few times per season, and that was it.

Until Bruce became their lead driver, and he wanted to really earn his seat, and he wanted to get podium, and he wanted to design a faster car, and he wanted to win, and Thomas Wayne couldn’t say no to his son, and suddenly Wayne Enterprises was inching closer and closer to the front of the grid. Now, they’re still not The Best, but they’re a team that future drivers look up to.

During a season of DTS, Bruce is 27. Netflix films the Wayne episode when there’s a fatal crash in F2, and Bruce was nearby when it happened. He ends up crying on camera for ten minutes. They had to cut almost all of it, but we get the most gut-wrenching confessional about how after he heard the news, in that moment, he didn’t want to be an F1 driver. He admits that if he hadn’t become a driver, he was going to become a doctor like his father, and he wonders if he could have saved the driver’s life if he did that instead. “What am I really doing if I can’t help others? I could have been anything…Maybe being a driver was selfish. Maybe I don’t belong on the track anymore.”

He’s visibly distraught during the moment of silence on the day of the race, but Bruce decided to continue because he wants to make the fans and spectators happy. (That’s his job, anyway. That’s what he does.) Despite getting pole position the previous day, he doesn’t get fastest lap or make it to the podium, but he still gets fourth. He has a long talk with his father away from cameras and calls his mom. The future’s uncertain for a few days until Bruce comes back to training. To finish the episode, he says he’s going to continue driving, even if he might need a bit of time to get his confidence back, and he pledges to one day make the safest F1 car ever seen. Even if it’s part of the risk of being a driver, he doesn’t want to see any more drivers losing their lives to the sport they love.

When he’s around 35 or 40, he retires from Formula One so he can inherit Wayne Enterprises, and he takes his father’s place as chairman of the team. Since he has the time now, he holds up on his promise to make an even safer car—the designs inspiring safer car designs for other teams as well—and they pick out two incredible drivers who end up finally (FINALLY) moving Wayne Enterprises into one of the top three teams. They win the world championship twice in a row before falling back a bit and only winning it every couple of years, but they’re nonetheless fierce competitors. Bruce still has a ton of kids, some of which like F1 just like he does, but he is the only Wayne to become a Formula One driver.

I just think Battinson would love driving for F1 :)

#can you tell I’m watching DTS rn lol #for context: Lance Stroll is the son of a billionaire who owns a team and he races for them #but he’s also super sweet and people call him a princess sometimes cuz he’s so sunny and nice #everyone loves him #and this doesn’t even mention the shipping #good lord he’d get shipped with everyone #is there a Battinson F1 racer au PLEASE #battinson #bruce wayne #batman #the batman 2022 #the batman #batman 2022 #dc universe #dc #Thomas and Martha survive AU #formula one #formula racing #formula 1 #lance stroll #lawrence stroll #soft bruce wayne #babygirl bruce wayne #gotham #thomas wayne #martha wayne

[turtleblogatlast]

Leo being put into a situation where there is absolutely no fighting, just verbal manipulation and perception games, would be amazing to witness. We see a lot in the series how good he is at subterfuge and how he uses his perception to manipulate to great effect, so it’d be so cool to really see it put to the test even more.

Manipulation is one of the most effective tactical strategies of all time, so just imagine Leo putting this skillset of his to the full test. Imagine the boys slowly get up to busting bigger and more powerful criminals, including those with networks of crime under their belt, and a simple fight isn’t enough to take them down. For criminals like this, Leo’s skills in subterfuge would be deadly.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt leo #rottmnt headcanons #me back to talking about Leo’s incredibly high affinity for subterfuge #genuinely think it’s one of if not his best and most honed skill #AND IT’S A VITAL NINJA SKILL #above fighting battle tactics and the like #it’s verbal blindspots #Sun Tzu’s The Art of War literally states that “the greatest victory is won without battle’’ #and idk I think Leo would be so good at this and we see him do it in the show quite a bit but not to the amount I yearn for #but yeah like just think Leo getting sent in and his bros standing guard #of course he wouldn’t be the ONLY one involved but 100% he’d be the main player #man idk I just really really love when their specific skill sets that ARENT the fighting ones are used it’s so interesting to me #like we already know Leo can easily take in a whole room’s worth of people and know exactly how to avoid them all #we know he can manipulate manipulators into his schemes #we know he’s good at improv which is essential to the games of speech high end criminals like to play #it would be SO INTERESTING #OKAY HEAR ME OUT- #he’s asked by Big Mama to join her at a criminal ball of sorts #she needs to regain power and he needs to take down big name criminals #thus a deal #no but really it’s so cool seeing Leo specifically do his best tactics through thinking like his enemy and predicting how they’d act

[kingkatsuki]

Bakugou taking off the cap of your eyeliner pencil with his teeth and holding it there while he puts his large palm on your forehead to tilt your head up to do your eyeliner.

#just picturing the cap between his teeth #and his face SO close to yours like the precision #I just think he’d be so good at applying eyeliner okay #like he’s so gentle and rough at the same time #brows furrowed as he positions it perfectly

[monacodarling]

Cant stop thinking about how paradoxical Charles and Max are I mean the narrative is there right but

Max growing up in a harsh condition—almost to the breaking point. Wanting nothing but to be the best. Conditioned to be alone. Used to being lonely.

Charles growing up in a loving family. Support from the family, having friends, growing up with different people hes still friends with today.

Max growing up under public scrutiny. Nothing like a famous father whose expectations you have to live up to. You can say he was born to race. That was his sole purpose.

Charles growing up wanting to be the best. The adoration and belief and faith from his family.

Max finally drawing boundaries with his own father. Christian and other people stepping in. Years of understanding. Finally in F1 in Red Bull.

Charles and his grief. One loss after the other. Finally in Ferrari, although a bit too late.

Max and his teammates—Carlos, and Daniel, and Pierre, and Alex, and Sergio. Some people he really start to let in, and be genuine friends. People like Lando start to come in. His demeanor slowly changes as people get to know him who he is and his love for animals.

Charles and his teammates—Seb and Carlos. Seb as someone who’s gotten to know what it’s like living with grief. Grief being a part of you. How much promises and faith weigh you down. Charles is very accessible. Kind and open to people. But he holds most at a distance. Like this is only where you get to only know me. This as far as you can go.

Max, doesn’t care what the public thinks, used to him being painted the villain, as someone who is angry and mad and raw all the time. But proves you can be as hungry and greedy as you can be, and only have a few people at your back. He’s fine with it. He’s used to be alone, he’s genuinely grateful of the people who’s been with him through thick and thin over the years. At the end of the day, he does things for himself. Because if being the best is his purpose in life, to make people happy, then that’s what he’s going to be. And if he’s tired of being the best, he can go because he knows there are people no matter who he is, they’ll be there.

Charles slowly suffering with the burden of the tifosi’s faith, his promise to Jules, his dad, to Anthoine. Charles wanting to be hungry and greedy but can’t stand of losing someone, of people abandoning him. Like I feel the more reckless and desperate he gets, it’s because he’s pushed by his own want. Sometimes what he needs to do and who he needs to be versus who he really is messes up his own vision of what he wants. He needs to be the best because it is a debt to be paid. And as long as it goes unpaid, he ignores the blood, he ignores the pain, he ignores the gnawing loss and sadness because he deserves it. He’s not winning, and he keeps on losing, and he is afraid if he’s unable to win, people will leave him. It’s either he leaves first, or he makes people leave, or in the end, he’s sure that people will leave him. He doesn’t know how to be alone.

Max with the faith in himself.

Charles’s faith of others towards him. Never from himself.

And I think that’s beautiful.

#the potential angst #of lestappen #I’m in love #I’m salivating #f1 #charles leclerc #lestappen #max verstappen #I feel if Charles has someone to push him #and challenge him #in good faith #like max or Alex for example right #he’d do so beautifully #but what he gets is muddled politics #and favoritism #and the tragedy of a legacy #cl16 #mv33 #mv1

[chironshorseass]

the thing is, we were never meant to sympathize with luke when he betrays percy. we aren’t meant to see his inner turmoil. we aren’t meant to see hesitancy, or regret. it’s meant to be a slap in the face. luke takes percy to the woods knowing full well what he’s about to do. in tlt kronos orders him to kill percy because he’s too volatile; kronos said so himself when percy hijacked luke’s dreams and began to figure out there were bigger things at play. the thing is, when kronos orders luke to kill percy, he doesn’t hesitate. that’s the point!!! it is essential that luke is so blinded by rage and vengeance for the gods that he will stop at nothing to get what he wants (the god’s destruction). percy accuses luke that kronos is using him, but he just retaliates that the gods do the same, and they do!!! but see, the thing is, luke’s whole point is that he’s so focused on the god’s injustices that he forgets what’s important. he goes for the “greater good” but he destroys his family, his life, in the process. by attempting to dismantle a system, he turns to another system that follows the same oppressive logic. THAT is why luke fails. THAT is why it’s so important he be blinded by rage, because it’s his inevitable, tragic end. he’s doomed by the narrative from the start. yes, we’re meant to be surprised by his betrayal because of how cold and calculating it is, but also it’s important to set the grounds for luke’s character to be this angry, vengeful boy because later on we come to understand why it is that he made those choices. we see annabeth’s side of things and percy’s side. we see luke’s side. we see many sides. we see a man who is too far gone yet comes to understand, in the end, that he’s been doing more harm than good to those he was supposed to protect (annabeth is the most obvious example). we get a complex character who won’t hesitate to kill but who also won’t hesitate to sacrifice himself so that he can save the family he has left.

the thing is, luke was supposed to be angrier in the show. percy was supposed to be angrier in the show. they’re both foils. luke is what percy could become, if percy lets his anger win. so, to change—even if it’s only slightly altering—their characters, is to change the point of the story. because luke tries to kill percy in his betrayal and later percy tries to kill luke but then percy starts to understand luke…until luke is gone and kronos is gone yet the gods don’t change but percy does. and percy’s initial anger is supposed to transform and he’s supposed to see what luke saw and the cycle continues. the thing is, it’s not even one of the worst changes the show made, yet it’s still so, so telling that they failed to see why it’s important to let your characters do bad things, to make mistakes, because that’s how a story can carry on. that’s how you give a story depth.

#pjo adaptation #pjo tv show #rick crit #i have a lot of thoughts #pjo show crit #luke castellan #percy jackson #im talking abt pjo her btw even if i do reference hoo yet hoo wasn’t good either so all the conflict abt the gods not changing was there ye #never adressed. percy sympathizing with luke was never adressed either #yet it’s what would be natural especially since it was mentioned once #THATS ENOUGH FOR ME THO. u can’t tell me percy came to understand luke and that he’d do the same if he were in his shoes and annabeth or #some other loved one was taken from him because of the gods U JUST CANT

[fumifooms]

Chilchuck analysis speedrun: As a hardworking half-foot who grew up poor and discriminated against and had his gullibility taken advantage of multiple times in his early adventuring days, Chilchuck thinks optimism is a dangerous flaw. He’s stressed and strict all the time because his job is noticing details like traps that could get everyone killed before anyone knows it, he takes the lives of everyone to be on his shoulders, and with the way he speaks about it that probably partly reflects how he felt about taking it upon himself to provide for his family too. His life’s always been pretty centered around work and has become even moreso now that his wife left and everyone is independent, and due to past events he’s very iffy with bonding with coworkers. He thinks feelings and job are a disaster mix. Like with his wife or with parties hiring him as sacrifice, being open or having good faith is vulnerability which can get you hurt, so he processes and shows all his stress as anger instead of worry. Doing strict dieting probably isn’t helping the irritability what with hunger, and on top of being a hunger suppressant alcohol might be the main stress reliever he has.

His grey hairs are so earned

#Chilchuck tims #dungeon meshi #analysis #HAPPY CHILCHUCK DAY #You know what yeah understandable have a good day #Alcohol be a ticket straight to chilling out town I suppose #Spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #Thinking on if I should split my family masterpost into diff posts for max reach hmm #Anyways I’m def editing in the second page into that post that “I’ve got three people to think of here” sounds sooo much like that’s #How he’d think about it in a family setting as well. He works so hard for them 🥺 #I could have put 100 pics on this post to justify everything I mentioned but this is a speedrun for a reason. I’m planning so many #Compilations rn i need a break from rereading lol #He’s just here to do his work!! He just wanna do his work!!! #I’m always rotating him in my brain like rotisserie chicken :( Hopefully this doesn’t sound disjointed or insane to average readers #He’s always on his guard so he has a short fuse and his type of humor & liking for snarky remarks doesn’t help #Also bc he knows nothing lasts he has a very work hard play hard mentality where ‘dying doing something you love. Like drinking’ #Is nice in his opinion #This post makes it all sound so dry. Chilchuck is so messy thinking about him is thrilling I swear. This is concise but at what cost… #OH ALSO he has weird self-hate issues where he really values his skills but devalues himself on a personal level. #‘I am a coward. I only care about myself. I cheated on my wife (lying for no reason)’ etc etc #Can’t disappoint people and make them leave you if they already have no expectations and esteem of you 😏💡

[crybaby-bkg]

new dad Bakugou who’s going back to work full time almost a full year after his daughter his born and he now has to grapple with the fact that….goddamn, he’s spoiled the shit outta her.

well, he doesn’t think it was spoiling her. in actuality, he just created a routine with her, gave her every bit of his attention, held her when she cried, scolded her (yes just at eight months) whenever she’d babble for more puffs even though she’s had enough already. it wasn’t spoiling, it wasn’t. he vowed to never be that dad, to raise a snot nosed brat, one similar to himself.

but here he is, on a Tuesday morning three weeks after her first birthday. he’s standing halfway between the front door and the living room in full uniform, with his still sleepy baby and her even sleepier mama. she’s gripping his neck like he promised to abandon her, wailing and crying so loud and dramatically, that you can’t help but chuckle at her antics and how he wavers ever so slightly.

“You promised you’d go back to work,” you scold him gently, rubbing at your daughters quivering back when she whines again the moment he acts like he’s gonna pull her off. Bakugou frowns at you, and you shrug, smoothing her unruly blond curls away from her sticky forehead.

“But you guys need me.” He pouts, eyebrows downturned as he pulls her away enough to wipe at her wet face. she blubbers again, whimpering out a small dadaaaa noooo, that absolutely breaks his heart.

“And so does the world.” You smile at him, gently pulling your daughter away from the matching glassy red eyes who watch her go. “We’ll be fine, my love. Promise.”

Bakugou looks unconvinced, especially since your daughter reaches for him with another cry of his name. you don’t say anything when he sniffles discreetly, quickly reaching down to the coffee table to snatch up his utility belt that he dropped when she waddled out of her room in tears. he snaps it on wordlessly, and you go to turn to the kitchen when he wraps you both up in his arms.

“Love you,” he whispers against your forehead before pecking it, leaning down to kiss your lips next, and then your daughter’s fat little cheeks. He whispers another love you to her, and wipes away at her rosy cheeks when she pouts at him.

“Rub you.” your daughter pouts, the both of you freezing in shock.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, grinning. “She said I love you back!” Bakugou matches your grin, laughing under his breath as he presses another torrent of kisses all of her face. for the first time since she’s opened her eyes today, she laughs, loud and joyous and familiar. he thinks that maybe going back in today won’t be so bad after all. not if this is what he’ll be coming home to.

#I have been tormented with dad bkg thoughts again I fear #he’s too loveable for his own good #but also the thought of bkg becoming a dad and vowing he’d be this certain way #but then his kid comes out and he’s like. yes. values. parenting skills. life lessons. discipline and love. #and then all of it goes out the window when they just look at him #and they look so much like him and they’re just so cute and annoying and. now he’s brought them everything they’ve ever wanted LOL #also I love toddlers who speak like non conventionally/stereotypically #like my youngest niece turns all of her consonants to ‘h’ for 2 syllable words #and it’s so funny bc everything sounds like ‘huh hah huhh’ #but she’s also VERY clear when she wants to be lol she just gets excited sometimes and forgets to enunciate #okay rambling sorry but I love babies LOL #—new treat in the streets! 🍫 #bakugou treats! 🍬 #dad bkg