The Masculine Connotation Of A Bow Tie And The Feminine Connotation Of A Bow On The Top Of The Head Implies

toji fushiguro is not a man of structure.

he sleeps when he’s tired, eats when he’s hungry, and doesn’t bother with trivial things like routines or household organization. his apartment is livable, sure, but it’s clear he doesn’t put much thought into it—clothes draped over furniture, dishes left in the sink, mail stacked haphazardly on the counter. he knows where everything is (more or less), but it’s not exactly functional.

then you move in.

and suddenly, there are little signs of change.

the first time he notices, it’s in the kitchen—his mismatched, barely-there collection of plates and cups has doubled. your things now sit alongside his, an extra coffee mug on the counter, a set of utensils that actually match.

then, in the bathroom—your toothbrush next to his, your skincare products cluttering the sink. it should annoy him, but it doesn’t. if anything, he finds himself lingering there a little longer, just to see the proof that you’re here.

his bed, once a mess of tangled sheets he never bothered to fix, is suddenly made in the mornings. not neatly, not perfectly, but enough that it looks intentional. toji never cared before, but when you crawl into bed at night and sigh, all content and cozy, he thinks… maybe it’s nice.

it’s a slow shift, but he adjusts—without realizing it, without meaning to.

and then one day, you notice.

you’re standing in the entryway, slipping your shoes on, when something catches your eye. a small wooden tray by the door, something you’re sure wasn’t there before.

and sitting inside it—your keys, alongside his.

your breath catches.

toji, already halfway out the door, glances back. “you comin’?”

you don’t answer right away, just staring at the little tray.

“…did you put this here?” your voice is quiet.

he shrugs. “you always lose your damn keys. figured this’d help.”

your eyes burn.

toji sighs. “don’t start crying over a tray.”

but it’s not just the tray. it’s everything—the way he started putting his laundry in the hamper because you do, the way he doesn’t leave dishes in the sink anymore because he knows you’ll wash them if he does. the way he bought an extra blanket because you always get cold, the way he waits to eat if you’re not home yet.

you sniffle. “you changed for me.”

he steps closer, tilting your chin up. “didn’t change, baby. just—” his thumb brushes your cheek. “—made space.”

your lip wobbles. “for me.”

he smirks. “who else?”

and when you throw yourself at him, arms wrapped tight around his waist, toji just chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

How I feel after skipping past all the smut in a fanfic cause I’m only in the mood for fluff

Poster Request: "f1 driver carlos sainz jr and any of his wins." (2024)

i took some creative liberties with this request but i couldn't resist

gojo reminds me of 2010 justin bieber

they’re literally the same person HELP

HELLO HELLO!! I think your writing is super duper adorable, and often times really heartwarming!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

How would Sukuna be with a shy partner? Lowkey a doormat but is trying their best? He’d be such a menace especially in a modern college au LMAO

sorry sorry sorry i took so long to answer, life is so crazy and busy but omg i love you!!!! thank you so much for reading my works i'm so glad that you enjoy them!!!

and arghhhhhh!!!

sukuna with a shy reader would be...something.

i would say at first he would make fun of you and nitpick at your lack of confidence but as your relationship develops he realises your shy nature and feels a weird instinct to protect you.

sure he can make fun of your shyness but if anyone else made fun of you or bothered you about it i'm sure he would say something.

your shyness comes particularly when it comes to asking him for things or asking him to hang out. your tone drops and you mumble, it's annoying to him but he has his own pleasure in making you speak up.

'what was that?'

'i didn't hear you the first time, speak up.'

'why are you so embarrassed?'

on the other hand he knows you're introverted and trying your best, so when you have trouble speaking up he'll attempt to stick up for you.

'if they don't want to speak, they don't have to. move it.'

if you have a presentation for one of your uni classes he'll go over it with you, practising as many times as you want but also giving feedback on how to make your voice sound louder.

'pretend i just punched the shit out of everyone and they're all unconscious.'

'why would i do that?' you frown.

'to make you more confident. duh.'

he'll be there cheering you on, sneaking into the back of the class and watching. you're not sure if that adds onto the pressure or not but somehow he makes you more confident and reminds you of all the times that you did get your words right.

after your presentation you find him waiting in the hallway after class with your favourite snack as a reward.

'i told you it would go well, you worry over jack shit sometimes.'

Picturing the JJK men as dads on the beach!

Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Nanami

TW: Fluff, Established Relationships, It's silly if you think of Geto as a cult leader and you really don't know what he does for a living.

Gojo Satoru is definitely the playful type. Gently holds your toddler’s tiny little hand as they take their very first steps onto the beach. You, of course, are a few steps behind, recording the whole thing, his white hair blowing in the breeze, those bright blue eyes flickering back to you with the happiest smile you’ve ever seen.

When your little boy finally reach the wet sand, the first chill of seawater brushes over his little toes as he squeals, cautious of the water. Satoru crouches slightly beside them, steady and so full of joy. You can hear his soft giggles and gentle reassurances, “I got you,” and “Don’t worry, daddy won’t let anything happen”, as he coaxes him forward, step by tiny step.

Each time the waves grow taller, he lets out a playful, “Wooo!” before shielding your little one with his long frame, bursting into laughter that makes your chest ache with love. “That was a big one, huh?” he grins, scooping the toddler closer. Checking them over as they spit out salt water. Helping him rub his little blue eyes that resemble his fathers. “My brave little man”

Eventually, you make your way over, camera tucked away, the salty breeze tangling in your hair. Satoru looks up the second he senses you near, and his grin only widens.

“There’s mama,” he coos, squeezing your toddler's small hand, pulling them close, before reaching for your hand, lacing your fingers with his. “C’mon, join us. The water’s not so scary.”

And just like that, the three of you stand at the edge of the sea, the water coming in cold burts, shells dazzling in the sand. When the next one crashes in, he pulls you both close, laughing loud and bright as cold water splashes up your legs.

“See?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek as your little one squeals with joy. Small little kicks in the water. “Told you I’ve got you.”

------------

Now Geto Suguru, absolutely has a schedule in mind. A bit of time at the beach, a long scenic car ride timed perfectly for the twins to nap, then dinner at a place he made reservations for weeks in advance, with a menu that includes safe foods for the kids and views that he knows you will love.

You, of course, have no clue what the schedule is. You’re just following his lead, letting him steer the day. If he’s being a little overprotective? Well, he means well.

He kneels down to carefully lather sunscreen onto the twins' cheeks, smoothing it into their soft skin with those big gentle hands. Then he sprays down their arms and legs until their glistening (hey do you want two little ones complaining about sunburns? No? Thought so), before adjusting their sun hats and leading them down the sand toward the tide pools.

“The tide’s too rough for little girls,” he murmurs, glancing back at you with playful violet eyes as if daring you to challenge him. He’d said the same thing when school season came up, murmuring something about “not just yet” and “there’s still time.” You’re starting to realize he just doesn’t want them to grow up too fast.

Once you reach the tide pools, it’s like watching a nature documentary, narrated carefully with a smooth, honeyed voice. Suguru who crouches low, sleeves rolled up, pointing to colorful sea anemones and starfish nestled in rock crevices. The occasional hermit crabs scrambling about. He gently holds the girls back with one arm as he explains how we have to be careful, how these creatures are delicate, how we should never touch unless we’re invited. He asks them questions, listens closely to their little answers, and hums in thoughtful praise when they’re right.

You take pictures from behind for his little scrapbook - your husband hunched beside his daughters, the wind tousling his dark hair, a small smile on his face as they eagerly chatter about “funny sea goos” and “squishy blobs.”

Even when the four of you walk along the shore, he’s still tuned in. He picks up every seashell they hand him and slips them into his pockets, keeping each one safe. Talking to you that he will have them do a little craft, maybe decorate a frame for your next family photo. His other hand stays laced in yours, thumb brushing your knuckle like a quiet thank-you for being here, for trusting his rhythm.

And when the twins break into a run, he calls after them, not angry, just firm. Protective.

“Hey, stay where I can see you. Don’t go too far, yeah?”

You can't blame the man for being a little overprotective. He's just trying to protect the only family he has left in the world.

------

Nanami finally got his beach house.

It wasn’t something he ever really thought he’d have, not in the way people dream of it. Certainly not with a wife he adores more than life, and definitely not with a little girl who just turned one. Both surprises. Both blessings he never knew how much he needed until they arrived, warm, loud, full of life and love.

He lounges beneath a large umbrella, reclined in a low chair on the sand with your daughter curled up sound asleep on his chest. A small paperback rests in his hand, the other gently cradling her back as he reads aloud in a quiet, steady voice. Loud enough only for himself to hear. Enough for her to feel the rumble of his chest when he speaks. The soft rise and fall of her breathing tickles his cheek where her chubby face presses into him, her tiny hand curled in the fabric of his white linen shirt.

Every so often, he glances up from the page, eyes following you as you wander the shore barefoot, collecting small shells and smooth stones. Things for her little fingers to hold, to marvel at.

Sometimes, you join him again. Both of you kneeling in the sand with your babbling baby girl perched in your lap. You and Nanami take your time building crooked little castles, digging moats and shaping towers, only to watch her gleefully slam her tiny fists into them, squealing as the grains collapse under her touch. He chuckles each time, murmuring that it’s good for her sensory development, brushing sand from her face and little hairs before beginning again.

Every now and then, Nanami looks at you.

Just looks. Like the tide has swept something open in his chest and left it raw in the most beautiful way. Sometimes he’s still trying to understand how he got here, how he gets to have this. How he deserves to have this.

There’s a softness in his gaze that lingers longer than the shell rustling in the waves. A quiet, awestruck kind of love that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud, because it’s seen in every glance, every kiss to your lips, every shell gently placed in your daughter’s hand.

He never expected this life. But god, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

BILLION DOLLAR MAN | a series.

PAIRING: president!Sukuna x journalist!Reader

SYNOPSIS: you get in trouble with the law for hate speech (totally bogus; like, hellooo, Freedom of the Press, anyone?), and, in a way to get you out of further repercussions, the president, himself—whom you went to college with—proposes a deal: be his fake wife. totally preposterous, but, then again . . . your news column could use a little more publicity, and you were in need of a [pseudo] sugar daddy.

ⓘ MDNI; enemies-lovers; smut (every chapter); fake marriage trope; each headline will be additionally tagged on their respective posts.

A/N: the table of contents below is subject to change at any time.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐈 : MAN of the HOUR ▷ preview. you've slandered his name all across your blog's public column since you got your master's degree, but tonight's gala is the first time you're seeing him face-to-face since your college days—ladies and gentlemen: Sukuna Ryomen, or, better yet, Mr. President.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐈 : MIMOSA MONDAYS ▷ preview. would ignoring your work and avoiding paying taxes still be as bad if it meant joining the Mile High Club . . . ? when Sukuna drags you along on a business trip, there's only one way to find out.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐈𝐈 : RED LIPS & RED BOTTOMS ▷ preview. to prevent any rumors, you two arrange going on a date—in public, where anyone could see. but, it's also so you two can finally get to know each other better, if that was even possible . . .

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐕 : FIRST LADY ▷ preview. years have now passed since that fateful encounter at the gala, and Sukuna's first term as president has come to an end; could the same be said about your fake marriage, though?

baby daddy!sukuna aesthetic:

readers aesthetic:

When tumblr refreshes itself and the fic I was reading fucking disappears forever 💔

I’ve been searching for a smau I was reading for three days 😔

what!!

lads has fighting stuff?!?! i thought this shit was like episode💔💔 didnt know i’d have to work for it🤬