# Real Life Izuku's Moodboard !

that trend where you call your bf your husband . . . katsuki bakugou x f ! reader / fluff

making a reservation for dinner with katsuki beside you. you’re calling the restaurant and telling them what time you’ll be there. and that’s where it slipped, “yup it’s just for two.” he was on his phone not really paying attention, only until, “yes me and my husband.” something in him shifts, suddenly so aware and unaware at the same time.

what the hell are you talking about?

“mhm, my husband and i will be there by 6 pm.” he jumps, knees on the bed and looking at you so intensely. so shocked by his own ears. looking at you so restlessly because he couldn’t believe it.

“alright, thank you.” you end the call and look at him as if you nothing happened.

“the fuck did you just say?”

you act dumb, trying not to smile. your eyebrows crossed as you tilt your head and sunk further on the bed. “said i’ll be going with my husband?”

katsuki grins, laughing to himself. getting under the covers and pulling you towards him. “didn’t hear you, can you say it again?”

and you’re still playing dumb, “i said you, my husband, will have dinner with me at 6pm.”

he feels his own body jolting, getting lightheaded just from that. placing his head on your chest as he feels something fluttering inside him. he groans, trying to cover up a chuckle, you’re just too good at getting him. “let’s get ready then you always take fucking forever.”

he was so sweet, helping you zip up your dress and putting on your heels for you. helping you with the necklaces he got for you. he looked so handsome too, letting you button up his shirt and cuffing his sleeves.

the drive to the restaurant was quiet except he had his hand on your thigh the entire time.

he seriously was thinking of buying you a ring the next day and make him your husband officially.

what the hell was he waiting for anyway?

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

so ok yeah fine i watched gravity falls again and read the book of bill

(jjk266) confession

NINTENDO SWITCH !

TWENTY-THREE : operation ask him out

masterlist <3

tags !!

pink doesn’t work

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‼️JJK Chapter chapter 247 spoilers below‼️

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A short recap of Sukuna vs Higuruma 😭🤣

SEOKJIN LAYOUTS !!

my irl name 'nd my @ in that order

not sure who am i gonna tag so anyone who wants to join pls be my guest !

saw this on instagram and thought it was fun!! so let’s do a chain thingy, shall we?

what’s the colour palette of your name?

@paysomeonetopaysomeone @waitingforthesunrise @coffeeforkai @betweenthetimeandsound @27fanficlilies @wishtobefictional @trashmeowcan @ashlakh @malencholic-nyx

# cw: <mha spoilers> post-final mha! teacher izuku x gn!pro hero reader, izuku's 24/25 in the og time skip!!

thinking about teacher izuku and pro hero reader, how he can't and won't stop talking about you in his classes, all of his students know everything about you and your quirk, he even invites you one day to talk about your job as a pro hero and answer every single question

mlist

SUKUNA AND HIS SHY DAUGHTER BONDING TIME WHEN?!?! Reader can be present and discreetly takes their pictures (sukuna pretends not to notice).

guided lines — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: congrats we now have cameras in the heian era and BIG BIG thanks to @bluebell33 and @soupie-writer for beta-reading <33

it’s a quiet afternoon in the heian household, the kind of stillness that comes after the chaos of the morning has settled.

the courtyard is bathed in golden sunlight, casting soft shadows along the wooden floorboards, and the faint rustle of the wind carries the scent of blooming wisteria.

you lean against the doorframe, peeking through the slightly open shoji screen into the courtyard where your husband and daughter are seated.

it’s a rare sight to see sukuna like this—relaxed, unguarded, the sharp lines of his usual stoicism softened as he sits cross-legged on the floor.

your daughter sits opposite him, her tiny hands clutching a paintbrush far too large for her delicate fingers.

the scroll of parchment between them is already half-filled with colorful smudges and haphazard lines, a far cry from anything artistic, but, hey, the effort is there.

“hold it properly,” sukuna instructs, his deep voice carrying just enough patience to make you pause in the hallway.

he reaches out to adjust her grip, his large hand completely engulfing her tiny one as he guides the brush to the paper.

she ducks her head shyly, murmuring a soft, “okay, papa.”

you bite back a smile, the term still so foreign yet so endearing coming from her lips.

sukuna doesn’t respond, at least not verbally, but his movements slow as he helps her make another stroke on the parchment.

you slip inside quietly, camera in hand.

sukuna had gifted it to you on a whim months ago, claiming he had no use for “trivial inventions,” but you’d quickly discovered his disinterest didn’t extend to being the subject of your photos.

he always pretends not to notice, but you’ve caught the subtle shifts in his posture whenever he knows your lens is trained on him—straightening his back, tilting his chin just slightly.

raising the camera to your eye, you adjust the focus, the scene coming into view with perfect clarity:

sukuna’s broad frame hunched slightly as he leans closer to d/n, his expression uncharacteristically soft, her tiny fingers smudged with ink and her lips pursed in concentration.

the sunlight catches the faint scar over his nose, the curve of his jawline, the tension in his hands as if he’s holding back his full strength.

click.

the sound is quiet, but his ear twitches ever so slightly, and you know he’s caught on. he doesn’t look at you, though, his attention remaining fixed on the little girl in front of him.

“what is that supposed to be?” he asks, nodding toward the splotchy shape she’s drawn.

“a bird,” she whispers, the pink in her cheeks deepening.

he raises a brow, and for a moment, you’re sure he’s about to tease her—sukuna’s sense of humor is sharp, often cutting, and you’ve had your fair share of exasperated sighs directed his way.

but instead, he tilts his head thoughtfully, as if trying to see it from her perspective.

“it…has wings,” he says finally, and her face lights up, a smile spreading across her features.

“you think so?”

“it’s obvious,” he replies, though his tone is far from dismissive. “draw another.”

you stifle a laugh, adjusting your position to capture another angle.

sukuna’s patience with a child isn’t something you’d ever expected to witness, let alone document, and it’s a side of him you treasure more than you’ll ever let on.

click.

this time, his gaze flickers toward you, just for a split second. it’s not a glare—more of a warning, the faintest quirk of his lips betraying his amusement.

you grin back at him, unrepentant, and he huffs quietly before returning his attention to your daughter.

“your brushwork is sloppy,” he comments as she attempts another bird, her little hands trembling slightly as she draws a lopsided wing.

“I’m trying,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible.

he leans back slightly, his arms resting on his knees as he watches her.

“try harder,” he says, but there’s no edge to his tone, only a challenge—a nudge toward improvement.

click.

this time, d/n notices, her wide eyes darting toward you. “mama, what are you doing?”

“nothing,” you lie, lowering the camera with a sheepish smile. “just admiring my two favorite people.”

she beams, but sukuna groans, dragging a hand down his face. “stop filling her head with nonsense,” he mutters, though the faintest hint of pink dusts his ears.

“it’s not nonsense,” you argue, stepping closer and crouching beside them.

d/n immediately crawls into your lap, clutching her brush in one hand and smearing ink on your sleeve in the process. you don’t mind, your focus entirely on the man in front of you.

she giggles, resting her head against your chest as you pull her close.

“papa’s really good at drawing,” she says, pointing at the bird he’d drawn earlier as an example. “he helped me with mine.”

sukuna shrugs, “someone had to make it look like a bird.”

you laugh, the sound light and warm, and his eyes linger on you for just a moment longer than necessary.

it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you know him well enough to catch it—the way his gaze softens, the way his shoulders relax just slightly.

later that evening, after your daughter has fallen asleep, you’re sorting through the photos on your camera, sukuna seated beside you on the porch.

he doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his presence, the quiet strength of him a comforting weight at your side.

“you know,” you say, breaking the silence, “I think these might be my favorite pictures yet.”

he glances at the screen, his expression unreadable. “you’re too sentimental.”

“maybe,” you admit, leaning your head against his shoulder. “but I can’t help it. you’re both so... precious to me.”

he doesn’t respond, and you take it as a sign for the comfortable silence to take over again.

but your husband presses a kiss to the top of your head that leaves you speechless till the end of the night.

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FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S (2023) — dir. Emma Tammi