Ty For The Tag Sahri!

Hihi Elle, hope you’re okay! I just wanted to request if you could write something about reader reuniting nagi after his elimination, I dont necessarily think he’s too upset about it but i just wanted to see how ud write it and if he’d need comforting or not. Feel free to ignore ofc, Thank you

:') i gotchu bae (the 299 leaks Hurt :’))

reuniting after his elimination

nagi seishiro x gn!reader. angst, hurt-comfort

you stood at the bus stop, anxiously wringing your hands as you waited for your boyfriend to arrive. you'd been watching live when the final results were announced and received a text from him not even ten minutes later that he'd see you soon. he didn’t sound too distressed over the phone, but you weren’t sure how he’d be in person.

finally, you spot the faded blue bus turn the corner and stand from the bench, eager to reach out and hold your boyfriend. you waited for the bus to slow and felt goosebumps erupt over your arms when you spotted nagi through the window.

the doors opened, and there he was.

his hoodie and hair were slightly rumpled, as if he’d fallen asleep on the ride back. there was a blue lock bag clutched in one fist as the other hand was wrapped loosely around the strap of his personal backpack. his eyes looked a bit distracted as he stepped off the bus, and you spread your arms out wide.

“aw, baby,” you cooed when he dropped both bags onto the ground and stepped into your embrace, nearly knocking you over with how heavily he hugged you.

“‘m sorry,” you heard him mumble into your hair. you gently pulled his face away and cupped it between your hands, his arms still wrapped around your waist. “i wanted you to be proud of me.”

you hoped he couldn’t hear the sound of your heart breaking as it shattered in your chest. “sei, i am proud of you.” you brushed his white bangs from his eyes as he shook his head. “i let you ‘nd reo down. i wanted to keep playing with him and the others. sucks.”

sighing, you pulled his face into the crook of your neck so you could run your fingers through his hair and down his back. “then you get better. you practice, you find your ego, and you play. just because you aren’t playing with them now doesn’t mean this is the end for you.”

nagi nuzzled his nose against your neck. “i cried,” he announced, sounding slightly embarrassed by the confession. “after i left. reo, too. he tried really hard to fight for my spot. feels bad.”

you tightened your grip on him. you’d seen that live; you felt those emotions, too. “that’s okay. he cried because he cares about you, you know. not because he was mad at you.”

“… still.” nagi squeezed you around the middle and you fought the urge to break down right then and there. he was clearly upset and seemed conflicted over that.

stepping out of his grasp, you placed a soft smile on your face and caressed his cheek with your thumb. “you’re home, now. let’s celebrate that for a little bit! i found a place that makes really good lemon tea not far from here.”

you pulled the straps of nagi’s backpack over your shoulders as he grabbed his blue lock duffle bag. when you caught him eyeing the logo a bit longer than you liked, you reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. the corner of his lip curled up a tad when he looked over to find you smiling at him. “come on, sei. my treat!”

NANAMIIIIIIi love him

Nanami and Gojo as murder-husbands :> Drawn for GoNanaGo Bang 2025 on ao3!

Breathing Without Lungs by ricochet was written based off this art. Please go check it out. I had a lot of fun participating, and I hope everyone goes to check out the ao3 collection.

@dearru oh i’m crying…

It’s hard to argue with Suguru.

Not like it is with Satoru, who fights loud, two tempers crashing, both of you saying things you don’t mean but at least saying something. At least with Satoru, everything’s out in the open. Honest. Even when it hurts.

Suguru is different.

He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t combat your words. He just... tightens. Folds inward. Smiles a little too tightly, makes your coffee just the way you like it, overplans your days to “help.” He does everything for you, but never with you. He says he wants peace. Harmony. Love. At first, it felt like being cherished. Now it feels like you’re being caged. Never actually tells you what’s wrong. He’ll go passive-aggressive, clean the entire kitchen in silence, disappear into his thoughts for hours while insisting he’s fine. He’ll bottle everything up until you’re the only one spilling over. Until you look like the one who’s too much.

You try to bring it up - you try. That you feel smothered. That he never talks to you. That his silence makes you feel like you're the only one bleeding while he stands there pretending he’s not even scratched.

But he doesn’t respond. Doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even look at you. Just sits there, staring at the floor, leg bouncing, fists tight on his lap like it physically pains him to have this conversation. You hate raising your voice. But you feel like you’re screaming into a void.

And when you finally slam the bedroom door shut, frames rattling, it’s not because you’re angry. It’s because he stopped trying. He stopped meeting you halfway. Stopped seeing you.

He doesn’t follow, just sits there, biting back the tears. Biting down the words he wants to say but doesn’t know how. “Please don’t go. Please don’t leave me. Please tell me how to fix this.” But nothing comes out.

Because if he lets the fire out, he’s afraid there’ll be nothing left.

Hours later, when the house is dark and your breathing’s turned soft in the guest room, he creeps in. Picks you up carefully, warm palms slipping underneath you. Carries you back to your shared bed. You stir, but don’t wake, and he thinks maybe that’s a blessing.

Pulls you close, tucks you against his chest, arms wrapped around you like he’s trying to glue the pieces back together without you noticing. Then, quietly, he cries. Doesn’t sob. Doesn’t shake the bed. Just lets the tears roll down his cheeks, one by one, into your hair. His fingers curl tightly into your shirt. His chest rises and falls with the kind of grief he’s never spoken aloud.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, again and again, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I make it so hard to love me. I’m sorry I keep breaking things. I don’t know how to stop.”

You don’t move. Maybe you’re still asleep. Maybe you’re pretending.

He doesn’t mean to cry. He’s so careful, always so careful, with you, with the house, with the weight of everything he carries but never speaks about. But when he lays you down in the bed, when you shift just slightly and curl instinctively toward him even in sleep, something in him buckles. Brushes the hair from your face with trembling fingers. The pad of his thumb drags gently beneath your eye, wiping away the last of your tears, but his own are already falling.

His broad shoulders start to shake, just barely, like he’s trying to hold even his grief in check. A soft, broken breath leaves him, one he bites down on so hard it sounds more like a choke than a sob.

“I don’t know how to keep you,” he whispers, voice raw. “I don’t know how to stop ruining it.” Closing his eyes, pressing his face into the curve of your neck. Tries to breathe you in like you’re still his. Like he hasn’t already pushed you too far.

“I just wanted to make it perfect. I thought if I could just... if I could make everything perfect, then maybe you'd stay. That nothing would go wrong.”

He swallows another sob, muffles it into your skin. Every apology he didn’t say earlier pours out in pieces now, scattered and soft and full of everything he buried beneath that calm mask.

“I’m sorry I don’t know how to talk. I’m sorry I make you feel small. I just - ” his voice breaks again, “ - I was so scared. I’m always scared.”

He thinks you’re asleep. Thinks you don't feel the way his strong body trembles. Doesn’t know you’re awake now, barely breathing, listening to the truth he only speaks in quiet moments. You realize he’s not trying to control you out of malice.

He’s just a man surrounded by love, who never actually learned how to love.

I think once bakugou gets over the potential fear of rejection, he is ALL in when it comes to you. he flirts so obviously (in his own bakugou way), he hesitantly compliments, he finds any excuse to be around you.

Like that boy is SO down bad. Loyal to the HIGHEST degree.

hai if u want a moodboard pls send an ask ty

me and @wordsofelie have the same birthday YAAYAYAY

hey girl

OMG HI??$?!

⌗ — 𝓘𝑵𝑺𝑼𝑭𝑭𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑩𝑳𝑬 ౨ৎ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ATSUMU MIYA, msby jackals.

♬ phone ain't got no service this 3G is fucking worthless / day is getting dark like the area's turning urban / you'll be fucking nervous like me inside of a church is / but, i'ma get in contact regardless, and / i hope you answer.

SYN ⨾ down on your luck and fresh out of your second year of university, alisa recommends you for a new job; manager and social media woman for the MSBY jackals. you don’t know anything about volleyball, but a paycheck is a paycheck and this one is accompanied by enough zero’s for your liking.

CON-WARN ⨾ msby!atsumu miya. bickering. profanity. enemies-ish to lovers. flirty!atsumu miya. smau. socmed manager/gen manager!reader.

CHAT LOGS .ᐟ 〔 character introductions 〕

you ┊ messy notes scrawled in a worn notebook. straw-berries and freshly baked cinnamon rolls. multiple hair ties on her wrist. overwhelmed. ⤷ sisterhood of the traveling pants. <- tba

a. miya ┊ soft hair. carefree grins and unbothered laughter. large, worn-out hoodies. rays of sun seeping in through sheer curtains. perfectionist. ⤷ MSBY jackasses. <- tba

INSTAGRAM ARCHIVES .ᐟ 〔 masterlist 〕

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HEY SO!!! OLIVER X IRIS

i don’t know anything about the ship how did it happen!!!!!! lore!!!!

sigh olivris is like a toxic couple but i love him sm😞

It was lwk like friends to sneaky links to relationship and then it’s like a CONSTANT back n forth between us but we definitely do have our sweet moments that keep us coming back to each other.

but in our relationship i don’t end up with him i actually end up with isagi🙂‍↕️