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hyper-specific chuuya bf headcanons

“…the quiet understanding that, even in chaos, they are each other’s home.”

oo.1 :: during a sudden rainstorm, chuuya insists you dance with him in the middle of the empty street. he spins you around dramatically, ignoring how soaked you both get. he even lifts you off the ground in a final, cinematic twirl, laughing at your breathless smile.

oo.2 :: chuuya pretends to hate it when you ask to braid his hair, rolling his eyes and muttering something about how it’s “a waste of time.” but the second you start, he’s completely still, leaning back just enough for you to reach comfortably. he’ll grumble under his breath—“don’t make it look stupid”—but the soft way he closes his eyes gives him away. he secretly loves the feeling of your fingers in his hair, and though he’ll never admit it, he refuses to take the braid out until he absolutely has to.

oo.3 :: if a fight gets particularly heated, chuuya has this infuriating habit of silencing you with a kiss mid-sentence. he’s not doing it to dismiss your feelings—he just can’t stand the thought of you being upset with him for too long. “i hate seeing you mad at me,” he’ll say, his forehead resting against yours, voice quiet and sincere.

oo.4 :: one night, you convince chuuya to graffiti a wall with you. at first, he acts too dignified for it but eventually gets into it, creating surprisingly artistic designs. by the end, he’s smeared in paint, laughing, and calling it a masterpiece.

oo.5 :: chuuya challenges you to a cooking duel, complete with dramatic commentary and music playing in the background. he pretends to be a judge for your dish, acting overly critical, but it’s just to cover up how much he loves your cooking.

oo.6 :: sometimes, after a particularly stressful day, chuuya will wordlessly walk up to you, throw his arms around your waist, and bury his face in your shoulder. he doesn’t say much, just breathes you in like you’re the calm in his storm. if you run your fingers through his hair, he’ll let out the softest sigh, “just needed to hold you right now.”

oo.7 :: when you’re walking side by side, chuuya has an oddly romantic habit of grabbing your wrist. he’ll lift it up and press a small kiss to the inside, lingering for just a second longer than necessary. when you ask him why, he’ll shrug and smirk. “your pulse is there,” he’ll say, as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

oo.8 :: he sets up a city-wide treasure hunt for your anniversary, complete with clues written in elegant script. each clue leads to places that are significant to your relationship—like the first place you met, or where you shared your first kiss. he acts all serious as you solve each riddle, but when you finally find the “treasure”—a simple, heartfelt note from him—he admits he just wanted to see your smile as you pieced everything together.

pls lawd stop putting ur smut into the angst/fluff tags 🤺

according to the official egoist bible, sae’s favorite season is the end of summer because everything feels lonely.

rin’s birthday is september 9th, which is the end of summer.

sae probably wanted to celebrate rin’s birthday with him, but because he was in spain and rin didn’t have a phone, he couldn’t. that’s why the end of summer is so lonely for sae, because when he wanted to celebrate his brother’s birthday at the end of summer, he couldn’t.

rin’s favorite season is autumn because it’s chilly.

sae’s birthday is october 10th, which is during autumn.

rin and sae had their fight on a snowy and chilly day.

not only that, but sae’s birthday is 10/10 and rin’s is 9/9, meaning that sae will always be one step ahead of rin and rin will never be able to catch up.

have a good night, everyone!!!🤭😊😆

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“𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐯𝐬. 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐡”

a/n: a lil suggestive, i've just been in the mood

isagi was supposed to be watching the game.

his teammates were scrambling across the field, calling out plays, their cleats slicing through the damp grass with precision. the crowd’s roar swelled with every near-goal, and the commentators’ voices crackled over the loudspeakers, analyzing every move.

but isagi didn’t hear any of it.

not really.

because you, his girlfriend, were sitting in the stands, wearing shorts. 

god help him. 

he was already distracted when he caught sight of you before the match started. he spotted you through the mass of faces, and for a second, he forgot how to breathe. but then you sat down, crossed your legs, and his brain might as well have short-circuited. 

now, mid-game, his eyes kept wandering. every time he glanced toward the stands, there you were, all casual and relaxed, completely unaware of the absolute chokehold you had him in. the way your thighs pressed together, soft and golden in the sun, had him gripping his shorts a little too tightly. his mind was already halfway out of the match, imagining his hands gripping you instead. 

“oi, focus,” one of his teammates barked when he nearly missed a pass. 

right. the game. the reason he was here. 

he cursed under his breath and forced himself to lock in. he sprinted down the field, evading two defenders, and when his teammate sent the ball sailing toward him, he struck it into the back of the net with a clean, merciless finish. 

the crowd exploded. his teammates crowded around him, shouting and shoving his head playfully. isagi gave the standard nod, offered a half-smirk, and jogged back into formation. 

but then his eyes were back on you. 

he caught the way you clapped for him, that bright smile lighting up your face. you cheered for him like he was the only player on the field. your excitement was so sweet, so pure. 

but the problem was, when you jumped a little in celebration, the flesh of your thighs shook ever so slightly. 

his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. 

oh he was done for. 

𐙚 

after the match, you waited for him outside the stadium. you waved when you saw him, and he was on you in seconds. arms around your waist, hands gripping your hips like he didn’t want to let go. his forehead rested against yours for a moment, catching his breath, but it wasn’t from the game. 

“good game, starboy,” you teased, brushing his damp hair out of his eyes. 

“mhm,” he muttered, but he wasn’t paying attention. his hands were already trailing down your sides, thumbs grazing the curve of your thighs. the skin was warm beneath his calloused fingers, and his grip automatically tightened. 

“yoi?” you blinked at him, puzzled by the sudden shift in his demeanor. 

his fingers dragged lightly along the hem of your shorts, skimming just underneath, his touch featherlight but possessive. 

“you’re messing with me,” he muttered against your temple. his voice was low, almost frustrated. 

“huh?” you laughed softly, tilting your head to meet his eyes, but they were dark. glazed over with something that made your stomach flip. 

“these,” he grunted, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze, “are driving me insane.” 

you blinked once, twice. and then it hit you. you glanced down at your shorts, then back up at him, watching the way he practically glared at your legs like they had personally wronged him. 

“oh my gosh,” you whispered, laughing. “you were staring the whole time?” 

he didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. if anything, he scowled harder, like it was your fault. 

“do you have any idea how distracting you are?” he asked, his voice low and slightly hoarse. he was still wearing his jersey, sweat dampening the collar. he was exhausted, but his hands stayed firm on you, as if the second he let go, you’d slip right through his fingers.

“it’s just my legs, yoi,” you teased, grinning.

his fingers flexed. “don’t.”

“don’t what?”

his eyes dragged slowly down your body, deliberately tracing the outline of your thighs. his gaze was heavy, heated, like he was memorizing every inch.

“don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing to me.” 

𐙚 

later that night, when you were tangled up on the couch, he pulled you into his lap and made no effort to be subtle about his obsession. his hands traced the backs of your thighs with a slow, deliberate reverence, his fingertips kneading softly into your skin. when he leaned down and pressed his lips against them, you squirmed slightly, but he only held you tighter.  

“stop moving,” he muttered against your skin. “let me have this.” 

he was starved. 

kisses pressed to the softest parts of your thighs, his teeth grazing just barely. he was mesmerized by how easily he could mark you, the way his lips left faint imprints like fleeting little bruises. you could feel the smile against your skin when you shivered slightly. 

“so sensitive,” he murmured.

his fingers were slow, teasing, brushing over your thighs like he wanted to make sure he felt every inch of them. he loved how your skin dimpled under his grip, loved how warm and soft you were against his hands. and when you gave him a small, halfhearted shove, your voice barely above a whisper –

“yoi, you’re obsessed.”

he smirked against your skin.

“yeah,” he admitted without hesitation. his lips brushed your inner thigh, voice muffled against you.

“and i’m not even sorry.”

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

a/n: inspired by this pinterest pin lol

Hello,

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Dazai’s hands are cold.

He always keeps them in his pockets. He says it’s to make sure he isn’t canceling his co-workers’ abilities, or he comes up with some totally different, non-serious reason altogether.

But it is through his touch that he shows love. Normally, he doesn’t touch others. His touch is unpleasant to those with abilities, like ants crawling under their skin. Chuuya said so. Oda said so. Many others have said so, and many will say so in the future, too. So, he doesn’t touch others. For an ability user with no ability to speak of, is a desperate and unpleasant person.

But there are exceptions- ones he only discovered after leaving Port Mafia.

The first one was Kunikida. He shouted at him, and even hit him when he first did so. But the man grew to like him, to trust him, to be his partner. Thus, Dazai’s touch, though a bit unpleasant at first, did not bother him. Dazai could bully and tease him with his cold hands, but Kunikida sometimes allowed that, warming his hands a little, lingering for only a short while. Kunikida trusted Dazai and let him find comfort, even if just for a tiny bit.

The other exception came from a boy, only four years his junior, a person he never thought he’d get attached to. Atsushi, who initially hated his own ability and was terrified of what it could do, found comfort in the buzzing sensation of Dazai’s ability and the cold hands that, instead of causing disgust, brought him comfort. It wasn’t long before he came to trust him, and that trust was returned. He welcomed Dazai’s cold touch, even when he’d shriek at it, warming his hands even with a sulky expression on his face.

Although his hands were cold and his touch unpleasant, there were people who cared for him, people who were willing to warm his hands despite all that.

very accurate 😭

BLUE LOCK KIN TEST

Hey guys! so I stumbled upon this 19-item quiz by llolik where they assign you a kin from the Blue Lock characters (including those in the manga so spoiler warning for anime-onlys) based on your answers. The results were pretty much fascinating and accurate in my opinion so I thought I'd share it with you all!

Tags are open for anyone who would like to give it a try. It would be nice if you could share your results in the comments or reblogs but without pressure of course! You may also tag other people if you want. Have fun 🤍

sae knowing about your little crush on him and making you nervous on purpose. he stands just a little closer than usual, brushes up against you when he walks by, puts his hand on the small of your back. just to listen to your breath hitch, to watch you straighten, your eyes widen, a ghost of a smile on his face at every reaction you make