JJBA Part 5 I Love Youuuu

Jealousy: Kyotani (Mad Dog)

The bar was crowded—not uncomfortably, but just enough that the air pulsed with low music and the warm scent of whiskey and fryer oil. The lights were low, warm and golden, casting soft shadows over tables cluttered with drinks and peeling coaster edges. Glass clinked softly in the background, a lazy rhythm to the Friday night energy building in waves.

You were leaning against the bar, waiting for your drinks, while Kyōtani had ducked away to use the bathroom. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, but you ignored it, eyes on the bartender shaking cocktails two seats down.

Which was, in hindsight, the exact moment the universe decided to test your patience.

“Hey there,” came a voice to your left—slurred, low, and too close. You caught the sour tang of beer on his breath before you saw his face.

You didn’t turn immediately. You’d felt it coming—like a storm you could smell in the air.

“I been watchin’ you from across the bar,” the man said, a lazy, drunken confidence in his voice. “You look like you could use some company.”

You exhaled slowly through your nose. “I’m good, thanks.”

He chuckled. “C’mon. Don’t be like that. I’ll buy you a drink, sweetheart.”

You turned your head, offering a cool, unimpressed stare. His eyes were glassy, cheeks blotched red from too much alcohol, and his grin was the kind of smarmy that made your skin crawl.

“You don’t wanna do that,” you said flatly.

The guy blinked. “What? Buy a pretty girl a drink?”

“No.” You shifted your weight, voice firm. “Hit on someone who’s taken.”

He raised a brow, like he thought you were bluffing. “Taken? Don’t see anyone here. You ditched him already?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You need to back off.”

But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. Men like that never did.

Instead, he laughed—loudly, like he’d just heard the best joke of the night. “Relax, baby. You’re hot. I’m just tryin’ to show some appreciation.”

You turned back toward the bar, trying to signal the bartender, but the guy didn’t take the hint. You felt him step closer, invading your space. Then his hand brushed your arm—too familiar, too bold.

That was when you felt it.

The air shifted. Like the pressure dropped.

A presence behind you—heavy, hot, and unmistakable.

Kyōtani.

A shadow passed over the drunk guy’s face, but he didn’t turn fast enough.

Kyōtani didn’t speak. He didn’t posture. He didn’t warn.

He just swung.

A blur of movement exploded at your side—a crack, loud and sharp, followed by the thump of a body hitting the ground. The guy lay sprawled across the scuffed floorboards, groaning, his hand cupping his jaw as shocked silence rippled through the nearby tables.

Kyōtani stood over him, jaw clenched, one hand still curled into a tight fist, his broad chest rising and falling as he stared down at the guy like he was debating whether to throw another punch for good measure.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even blink.

You just looked down at the groaning man and said, with a shrug and a sip of your half-warm drink, “Told you so.”

Kyōtani turned to you, golden eyes burning with residual fury, scanning your face and arms like he needed confirmation you were untouched. “He touch you?”

“Barely,” you muttered. “He tried.”

Kyōtani grunted low in his throat, gaze snapping back to the guy on the ground. “You’re lucky I stopped at one.”

The bartender said nothing. No one did.

You grabbed your second drink off the bar, rolling your eyes. “Guess I need a new gin and tonic now.”

Kyōtani huffed, throwing a protective arm around your shoulder, steering you away from the scene. “Let’s go. I hate this place anyway.”

“You hate every place.”

“Not true,” he muttered, hand tightening at your waist. “I like the ones where people don’t talk to you.”

You laughed under your breath as the two of you disappeared into the cooler night air, Kyōtani’s hand never leaving you for a second.

And as you walked, he leaned in, voice low and unrepentant.

“Next guy that touches you,” he growled, “I’m breakin’ his ribs.”

You smirked, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I know.”

it’s late, and you’re both curled up in bed, the room completely dark except for the soft glow of the moon peeking through the blinds. you’re lying with your back to simon, his arm draped lazily over your waist, fingers lightly tracing patterns on your skin.

"you ever think about what you’d do if you weren’t a soldier?" you ask, your voice soft in the quiet.

simon doesn’t answer right away, his hand stopping for a moment before continuing its slow, comforting motion. "no," he says finally, his voice a deep rumble in the darkness. "never thought that far ahead."

you smile to yourself, knowing that’s so typically him—always focused on the present, on the mission, never on what comes after. "okay, but what if you had to choose something else? anything at all."

he’s quiet again, like he’s actually considering it, and then he mutters, "maybe a mechanic. or a farmer."

"a farmer?" you ask, trying to hold back a laugh at the thought of simon, the terrifying ghost, tending to crops and chickens.

"yeah," he says, completely serious. "quiet life. away from everything. i’d like that."

you turn to face him now, grinning in the dark. "you? a farmer? with overalls and everything?"

"don’t push it," he grumbles, but you can hear the faint amusement in his tone.

you laugh softly, reaching up to brush your hand across his stubbled jaw. "i think you’d look cute. you’d be grumpy, but in a charming, farmer simon way."

he huffs, but you can feel his body relaxing next to you, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. "you’d get bored with me in a week."

"never," you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "i’d help you with the chickens. we’d live on a cute little farm with a big garden, and we’d sit on the porch every evening and watch the sunset."

"that sounds nice," he admits, his voice softer now, almost wistful.

you snuggle closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body as he pulls you tighter against him. "see? i think you’ve got the right idea. farmer simon. i’d take that over ghost any day."

he chuckles quietly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "you say that now."

you smile, closing your eyes as his hand moves gently through your hair. "yeah, well, i think i’d like you no matter what."

the silence settles again, but this time, it’s filled with a warmth that makes you feel like you could drift off to sleep any second, wrapped in simon’s arms and the thought of a peaceful life somewhere far away.

and just before you drift off, you hear him murmur, "i’d like that too."

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

something short and sweet before i finish this longer fic i've been working on for a few days :) hope you like ittt

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving

Sukuna will make you beg before helping you with things he’s obviously good at.

You’re playing Wii sport with your friends on a Saturday night at your and your boyfriend’s shared home, like you’re used to doing every week. After a round of baseball you and one of them are at a draw. Your friends decide to play with “the boyfriends” for the last round, choosing bowling as the last game.

You turn to Sukuna preparing yourself to convince him to play. He’s the absolute best at bowling, and everyone in the room knows it, but he’s also a stuck up bitch that never wants to play. He says that there’s no fun if everyone is so shit he doesn’t even have to try hard to win.

“Babe, please-“

“No.” He interrupts you.

“But-“

“Nah.”

“Why not?” You whine, putting your left hand on his bicep and shaking his arm. He takes a swig of the beer he’s holding with that arm, muscles bulging, looking down at you with his piercing maroon eyes.

“Because I said so,” he remarks.

“But I can’t play alone, and I’ll be last if I don’t play,” you pout.

“You’ll get over it,” he shrugs. You’re still holding his arm, and despite the way he’s portraying himself, he loves the physical contact you’re having. He’s possessive; if he could crumple you up and keep you in his pocket, he would.

“I hate you.”

“You know you don’t, baby,” he says smirking, finishing up his drink, still looking at you with both his real and tattooed eyes.

“Thought you didn’t want to date a loser,” you say, changing approach. You see a spark in his gaze. Bingo. But he’s not there yet.

“I’ll make an exception,” he continues.

“Oh, okay, I’ll just tell the others that the duo who owns this house will not be playing and therefore will be last,” you provoke him turning around and walking towards your friends.

He grabs your waist and slams your back on his strong chest. You try to hide your smile.

“You minx. If we don’t fucking win, you’re sleeping on the couch,” he whispers aggressively in your ear.

“Sir yes sir.”

That night you snuggle closer to him on your shared bed before falling asleep.

Pillowy

Jason Todd who loves when you're lazing about and your shirt rides up, exposing your plump stomach. Who tries not to be too obvious, knowing the moment you become aware of it, you'll readjust your shirt.

So he pretends to focus on the random show playing on the TV in the background. Staring at you from the corner of his eye as you looked so damn cozy sitting on the cushion next to him.

With a knee propped up and the other leg outstretched. Growing restless, Jason finally rests a hand near your belly button. 'Jay?'

'You're so soft.' He whispers, rubbing his hand across your skin. He doesn't care that there's blemishes or bumps. He finds it rather interesting when he comes across a happy trail.

A curious explorer of your body even though it's not his first time seeing it. 'So pillowy.' Squeezing the bits that spill over to your love handles. All his movements made the fat jiggle.

His calloused palms were a stark yet welcomed contrast. As the touch had no malicious intent, exposing the softer side of the dangerous man.

Caught up in the moment, Jason dips his head. Causing you to think he's going to kiss you. Just for him to leave a slobbery raspberry on your stomach. 'Jason! You goof!' Laughing as you fail to sound mad.

"𝙈𝙀𝙉 𝙊𝙉𝙇𝙔 𝙒𝘼𝙉𝙏 𝙊𝙉𝙀 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂?!" w/jjk men !!

Gojo, Geto, Yuji, Megumi and Choso! TW: implied fem reader on megumi's, reader has pink bows!! "Men only want one thing, and it's disgusting," which isn't true at all because Gojo Satoru wants nothing more than to yap with you over a box of kikufuku mochi. The way you let him talk your ears off and still agree with him makes him feel like the only man in the world, and he loves you for that. "Men only want one thing, and it's disgusting," which isn't true at all because Geto Suguru wants nothing more than to cuddle with you and sleep after a long, exhausting day of exorcising curses. He wants nothing more than to kiss your perfect face right before you drift off to your slumber.

"Men only want one thing, and it's disgusting," which isn't true at all because Yuji Itadori wants nothing more than to watch movies with you. Front row or not, at the theater or at home, your favorite movie or his, it doesn't matter. For him, any movie is a 10/10 if you're watching it with him.

"Men only want one thing, and it's disgusting," which isn't true at all because Megumi Fushiguro wants nothing more than for you to run your fingers through his hair and play with it. He pretends he doesn't like it when you clip his hair with one of your pink bows, but you can see him blushing. "Men only want one thing, and it's disgusting," which isn't true at all because Choso Kamo wants nothing more than for you to sit on his lap and trace the marking on his nose bridge. No, it doesn't turn him on; it just makes him feel childishly and sweetly giddy, and he can't help but smile.

I can’t sleep

Eddie Munson x gn!reader

No trigger warnings

WC:  0.7K

Another sleepless night. You have had trouble sleeping for as long as you can remember. Night terrors when you were a kid and now insomnias. Your boyfriend, Eddie, is sleeping soundly next to you. You, however, look at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You know that if your boyfriend wasn’t asleep right next to you and holding you, you would have left the bed.

But you are afraid you are going to wake him up, so you stay in bed, being a very much awake little spoon. You hate nighttime because everyone is sleeping except for you. You are left alone with your thoughts, in the dark and silence.

At some point, you just can’t take it anymore so you try to delicately untangle yourself from Eddie, trying your hardest not to wake him up. Spoiler alert: it fails. As soon as your feet touch the ground, you hear shuffling behind you. When you turn around, you see your boyfriend tiredly rubbing his eyes.

“Go back to bed, Eds.” You whisper softly.

“What about you?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.

You shrug. “I can’t sleep.”

“You haven’t slept at all?” Eddie asks, concerned.

You shake your head in response.

“c’mere.” Eddie says, opening his arms for you.

“Eddie…” you protest. “You should go back to sleep.

“I want to help you fall asleep.” Eddie softly says.

“It might take a while…” you say, sighing.

“I don’t mind, I can’t sleep knowing that you are struggling.” Eddie tells you before pleading. “Please, let me help you.”

You nod and Eddie opens his arms again for you. “C’mere.” He says again.

You crawl into Eddie’s arms and lay your head on his chest.

“Tell me more about your sleep troubles.” Eddie says, trying to understand.

You shrug one shoulder. “Had them forever. When I was a little kid, I had night terrors. The older I got, the more it turned into insomnias. Maybe because I’m subconsciously scared to have night terrors.” You explain.

“Sweets?” Eddie asks, frowning.

“Yes?” you answer, raising your head to look at him.

“How many nights have you spent awake with me obliviously sleep next to you?” he asks.

“All of them…” you say. There is no point in lying, he knows about your sleep troubles now.

“Baby…” he coos. “You should have told me earlier. I would have tried to help or at least stayed awake with you.” Eddie says, ridden with guilt.

“Eddie… you need your sleep; besides, I don’t want to be a burden to you.” You argue.

“Sweetheart… I’m here for you at any time of the day or night.” He says enthusiastically.

“But I don’t want you to sacrifice your nights because of me.” You tell him regretfully.”

“I would sacrifice every night if it meant you can sleep peacefully.” Eddie says while scratching your head with one hand and your back with the other. You hum contently.

Eddie keeps scratching your heads and back, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and telling you how much he loves you.

After fifteen minutes, Eddie feels your body fully relax.

“Baby?” he asks wanting to make sure that you are truly asleep.

When your only answer is soft snoring, Eddie chuckles to himself before softly kissing the top of your head. Eddie then falls asleep with your sleeping form in his arms.

That night, you have got the best night of sleep in forever. Even as a child you never slept this peacefully.

Eddie scratching your head and back, whispering sweet nothings into your ear or even reading you a bed time story became a routine for the two of you. Every night, this little routine help you fall asleep. And whenever you are night terrors, which is less and less frequent, Eddie is here to comfort and reassure you. He always starts the process of rubbing your back and whispering sweet nothings into your ear until you fall asleep again. Step by step your sleep schedule is getting better, and it is all thanks to Eddie. You have never felt as safe and peaceful than you do with him and Eddie is glad he could help.

Taglist : @abellmunsonmovie

the first time you found nanami huddled in your shared room, you almost called an ambulance. huddling wasn’t exactly his thing. was he sick? dying? both? your mind raced through scenarios of him stoically hiding a terminal illness because “it’s not proper to trouble others.” but as you cautiously approached, ready to demand answers, you noticed the makeshift fort he’d built from your shared bedding. not just that—he’d constructed a fortress of books, an outright barricade. he looked up from his current read, glasses perched on his nose, and said, “it’s my day off.” oh. that was... anticlimactic. turns out, nanami decompresses by becoming a literature troll.

the first time you found gojo huddled in your shared room, you didn’t panic—you assumed he was trying to weasel his way out of work. which, frankly, was strange, given how much he adored tormenting his students with nonsensical training exercises. but when you walked in, the room was a battlefield. wrappers. so many wrappers. chocolates, gummies, cookies, things you weren’t even sure were technically edible. gojo lay in the middle of it, like some sugary war general, twirling a lollipop stick between his fingers. “self-care, babe,” he said with a grin, crumbs everywhere. you left him to it, but not before muttering about how cleaning up was also self-care.

the first time you found geto huddled in your shared room, your heart sank. geto huddling was a bad sign. you thought he was doing okay, considering everything—therapy sessions, reconnecting with friends, the works. but then you noticed what he was holding. a single strand of hair. his hair. your brain struggled to compute. “it’s broken,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the offending strand. “this means split ends, doesn’t it?” you blinked. his depression wasn’t back; his vanity was. “great. just great,” he sighed dramatically, retreating further into his silk pillow cave. you left him to mourn in peace.

the first time you found toji huddled in your shared room, it was well past his usual working hours. considering he’d only dragged himself home at 4am the previous night, you figured exhaustion had finally caught up to him. toji was not the type to stop moving. ever. “tired?” you asked gently. he looked up, smirking. “nah. retired.” your jaw dropped. retired? as in permanently? the man who treated work like a full-contact sport? but no joke followed. he was serious. you didn’t think you’d ever been happier in your entire life. toji laughed at your dumbfounded expression before pulling you into his ridiculous bear hug. “you’re stuck with me now, sweetheart.”

the first time you found sukuna huddled in your shared room, you froze. mostly because he was snoring. loudly. like a lion on steroids. the man could bring a house down with his sleep volume. you glanced at the peaceful chaos that was your room: one arm hanging off the bed, his face buried into your pillow like it personally offended him, and faint murmurs of incomprehensible sleep-speak. you made a calculated decision and tiptoed out, because waking sukuna from his hibernation seemed like a bad life choice. whatever ancient curse he was dreaming about could wait. better let the man sleep—who knew what destruction he’d bring when he woke up?

thinking about post time skip haikyuu is so funny to be bc the people who know other people is crazy like what must normal people in that universe think

like why does youtuber streamer and owner of bouncing ball co kozume kenma aka kodzuken know the libero of this russian team and this half russian model and this comedian / chef and also a bunch of div 1&2 pro volleyball players and his childhood bsf works for the jva

some kid comes to class one day and his teacher knows half the japanese national team ????? THIS RANDOM COP IN MIYAGI IS A SENPAI TO HINATA SHOYO AND KAGEYAMA TOBIO i’m in tears actually this is so funny how have i never considered this

yachi taking time off for the olympics and her colleagues are like oh omg what are you watching? you could come and watch at this bar with us! and she’s like actually my super famous besties got me tickets to go see the games IN PERSON and that’s how they learn she’s besties with hinata and kageyama bc she also posts a selfie w them and yamaguchi and tsukishima

new fans are so confused on how and why hinata knows so many people??? why is he on good terms with the japanese guy who plays for that one polish team? why is he posting selfies with san juan’s star setter???? why is san juan’s star setter married to THE JAPANESE TEAMS ATHLETIC TRAINER??? WHAT IS HAPPENING

everyone and everything is connected

kento’s favourite noise is hearing your wedding rings clink together.

it’s a soft sound, not a harsh wobble of metal or the screech of a steel sheet cut in two, but like the ripples of water interrupted. it is delicate and brief; a perfect clink. when kento hears it, he sees pink.

clink it goes when kento reaches for your hand when you wake up in the morning, half asleep and head buried deep inside your pillow. he can’t see your face, so he reaches for you instead. his gold band clinks with your more delicate gold ring. it feels softer than cashmere and the yarn of your crochet projects.

clink it goes when you pass him back the spoon he handed you to taste test dinner. the food is hot from the pot and blown carefully by him. it’s a recipe an older woman from the grocery store gave to kento. apparently, her husband would make it for her, so now kento will cook it for you. struck by humour, he didn’t tell you about his encounter until your first few bites into dinner. you choked, tears streaming down your face. kento would make more for you, to which he would receive a reluctant “thank you” and a glare as piercing as cotton balls. you’d never known a love so quietly overwhelming until you met him.

clink it goes when you lightly slap his hand when he’s being silly. kento’s straight line mouth (which you lovingly stroke until he smiles), bursts into the shape of a lemon slice. he can’t help but make you squirm. he likes the little dance you do, your high-pitched “stop it’s” and “you’re so weird, kento’s”. it’s almost as sweet as the clinking of your rings, but somehow, it’s unmatched.

look at you. you’ve conditioned him to associate your love with the clinking of your rings. how dare you.

kento’s favourite noise is hearing your wedding rings clink together.

just finished the hardest design studio i’ve done so far for school :’) i’m still in school but hopefully i can start posting again. sorry for the silence

Jason takes care of you after getting your wisdom teeth out

A/n: by the time this is out my wisdom teeth will be gone but I heard it’s okay because they don’t actually hold wisdom :(

Warnings: short, minor injury? Sedation mention and it’s after affects, not proof read, rushed

Your body shakes as they turn on the IV drip. Your eyes search his for reassurance.

“I’m right here sweetheart.” His hand is big, and steady as it holds yours.

“Jay I’m in love with you so much.” You weep softly, words muffled by the gauze.

“Oh I know sweetheart.” His strong hands look so good working the wheel, driving you both home.

“Did you know you’re so beautiful?” Your voice quivers.

“Mhm. You’re beautiful too.” His voice is gruff, and soothing.

You gasp all too dramatically, “I am beautiful?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh wowwww…”

By the time you get home you’re half asleep. His big arms scoop you up with ease, you feel like you’re floating.

The massive bed cradles you. Jason makes sure your head stays elevated on the mountain of fluffy pillows.

You’re technically asleep but you feel him leave, and you’re weeping again.

Can’t control the waterworks.

“Oh…oh sweetness you okay? What happened?” He carefully thumbs the tears beneath your eyes away.

“W-where did you go?” Your voice feels as broken as it sounds.

“Just went to get you some things baby.” He holds up the special ice pack he bought you, gentle hands wrapping it in place around your swollen cheeks.

“S’the pink one? I love pink.”

“Yes I know.” He coos.

“I don’t deserve you.” You sob.

He rubs a hand on the back of your neck, “Oh yes you do,” he leans down to catch your gaze, “Sweetheart would you mind doing me a favor?”

You wouldn’t mind doing him all the favors, “Hm?”

“Let’s take a breath, get those waterworks to stop yeah? Being dehydrated doesn’t feel good.”

He’s right, it doesn’t. That doesn’t stop you though.

“Hey…sugar look at me please.” The anesthesia doesn’t change how willing you are to follow his gentle instructions. “There’s my sweet thing. No more tears okay? No more tears.” He whispers against your temple.

“If I can’t have tears what can I have?” You sniff.

“You can have some mashed potatoes yeah?” He seems to grab a steaming bowl of it out of nowhere.

“Oh…yeah that’s good.”

He chuckles. “I mixed ‘em with some broth.” He holds up the spoon to your lips, “Good?”

You carefully swallow. “Mhm…Jason my teeth feel big.”

“Yeah…” he’s careful not to comment on how swollen your cheeks look from the surgery.

“And they feel badly.”

“I know baby…I know. You were so brave today.” He runs his fingertips over your brow, keeping the urge to cup your cheeks at bay.

“It hurts…”

He nods thoughtfully, immediately pulled into action finding your aftercare instructions. He opens a couple pill bottles, offering each pill to your mouth in turn.

“Swallow f’me.”

And you do. And then you giggle.

“Oh I’d swallow for you alright.”

But he doesn’t laugh? He just…looks at you.

His green eyes hold the golden rays peaking through a heavy forest; his love is the first breeze of spring, and the last chill of winter.

“Your eyes are the green sunlight, and you’re fresh.” Gosh aren’t you a romantic. Some words might be missing there though.

He smiles. “You, my sweet love, are the bed that makes a home. Now hush…don’t want you hurting that pretty mouth.” He kisses your forehead.

But he wanted to say more than that. You are my reprieve.

He stays with you until you fall asleep.