#everything about this screams domesticity

[tteokdoroki]

˗ˏˋ 💎  JJK MEN AS OVERPROTECTIVE GIRL DADS gojo, sukuna & geto .ᐟ

⋆˙ ᯓ★  about ! “a little girl’s first love will always be her father." three scenarios in which the daughters of three jjk men introduce their boyfriends to their fathers. ( 5.7K )

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. video banner. not beta read. sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, no-curses!au, mentions of pregnancy, children and babies, the children have no names, some family issues, married life, domestic bliss, husband + father!jjk men, mother + fem!reader.

sonic says ! hello everyone !! i wanted to try my hand at some head canons and scenarios, i couldn’t get this idea out of my head so put a pause on working on kinktober to write it lol!! hope you enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ 

ᯓ★ SATORU GOJO:

before meeting you, satoru gojo had never been fond of a family dinner. 

in his childhood home — they were cold and quiet, pockets of clattering cutlery would cut through painstaking silence and distract from the loud emptiness of the seat at the head of the table where his own father was supposed to be. his mother, often solemn and sunken in the shoulders, never spoke. never cooked and slipped small bites to her son in between preparation or steps.

they had staff for that, they had staff for everything.

to keep the household clean and together. to keep him fed and breathing. to keep him alive. all requirements felt almost clinical, the environment in which he was raised almost like the white walls of a hospital — without a trace of love needed for a child like satoru gojo needed to thrive. 

even if he had all the money in the world, he hadn’t a drop of love. he wasn’t ever sure if he was capable of the warm and fuzzy emotion, didn’t know if it was something his heart could ever open up to — sealed in by layers of cool, cold concrete and cement. kept in a safe without a key. at least until you miraculously found it and melted the thick layers of ice blocking satoru’s veins. you brought back colour to his cheeks and light to his eyes, taking up the space in his heart where his family had left a swirling, black void. 

to satoru, you were a saving grace. his everything… and he swore he’d never be like his father; who left his wife unhappy and empty, like a abandoned shell. he promised; he’d do much better than his parents ever did. especially when you found out you were pregnant, even more so when your little girl came into the world with plentiful white curls and lashes, screaming at the top of her teeny tiny lungs. 

at the time, you were sure you’d never seen satoru gojo so in love ( and so teary eyed too ) — but you knew what becoming a parent meant to him. what it meant for the new life you now shared.

but now, having met you and married you and created life with you — satoru had found a new appreciation for family dinners. they were a sacred event, a special time for him to keep up with the lives of his children and let them know he was there. present. 

it wasn’t a time to be imposed on and certainly not by meddlesome boyfriends brought home by sixteen year old daughters.

“so kid, what’s your 401K look like?” 

satoru carries a look of disdain, his nostrils flared, blue eyes narrowed and perfect pink lips curled in an unhappy frown. 

the young boy opposite him, a little scrawny and awkward, shrinks underneath the white haired man’s intense gaze — if you squinted, you could probably see him shaking like a little leaf in the intense wind from across the table “um… i don’t know?”

“hear that little guy? no 401K… how’s he meant to take care of your sister. yeah, yeah.

you’re right, i’ll give him a chance,” he mutters to the baby boy snoozing happily in his arms under his breath, engaging in a one sided conversation before switching his focus back to his daughter’s…sorry excuse for a partner. “okay then… finances, clearly not. academics and common sense —“ pausing,  the white haired father of two clicks his tongue, pushing it into the soft flesh on the inside of his cheek as if to feel his next words out in his mouth. “do you even know what a bouquet of flowers is, kid? a corsage? gojo women don’t play about their flowers, yanno.” 

“sir—“

without giving the boy a chance to speak, gojo drops his intrusive gaze under the table and back up again — pointing an accusatory finger at his little girl’s partner. “your top button’s undone and your shoe laces are untied. you might wanna fix that! if you care about my daughter’s safety!” he turns his nose up all petulant like a picky toddler being forced to eat his veggies, he even sticks his tongue out for good measure. gojo’s eccentric movements nearly jostle his sleepy son in place. the baby whines and gurgles a little bit, only soothed by a pat to his back from dad — who repositions him to snooze over his shoulder.

in a silent, quieter gesture, satoru uses two fingers to point between his eyes and the boy’s. almost as if to say ‘i’m watching you.’

catching him in the act, the eldest gojo daughter bounces into the room carrying plates of steaming hot food, exhaling with worm down patience evident in her body language. “daddy please, you don’t act like this normally. stop messing around.” rolling her eyes, she sets the dishes down, freeing up her hand to smack the back of her dad’s clearly empty skull. just like her mother.

“well sooooorrry for being a good dad and caring about your wellbeing! who you’re dating! who you’re bringing into our bloodline!” gojo rebuttals with petish grunts, unable to cradle the back of his injured head like he does with his son.  

and as if by magic, you, his beautiful and loving and gorgeous wife appear with dinner plates in hand to double down on a scolding the white haired man. amused, you also swat at your husband’s head and tut down at him. “satoru? what are you doing?” there’s something about the way you tease and tell gojo off that always makes his heart race, even after all these years of marriage and raising his kids. he loves you, his family so much. he almost keens into your touch like a pathetic dog, until your daughter starts gagging at the sight — slipping into her set. you were supposed to be watching the baby. not interrogating the poor kid.” 

“we’re having a heart to heart, babe,” gojo swoons, clearing his throat as his head bobs in the direction of his daughter’s boyfriend. “jimbob here was just telling me about his 3.4% grade point average.”

“it’s hiro sir! and uh… 3.5% sir.” the boyfriend in question chirps shyly.

you know that your husband feels… almost threatened by another man entering your daughter’s life — they’ve been practically inseparable since the moment she first opened her eyes. to give up the duty of loving and protecting her and pass it onto someone else is probably what scares him the most. “that’s pretty good hun!” you comment absentmindedly, hoping to pull satoru away from the conversation.

“no it’s not! our daughter has a 4.0%.”

“s-she was failing in math, i was tutoring her.” the boyfriend hopefully interjects again, whispering next when the baby stirs at the dining table. “i hope that makes up for my 401K sir. i-i also work part time to save for college and—!” 

“haha — no i wasn’t!” the younger gojo girl tenses in place, elbowing her date in the ribs not so discretely from under the table. it’s this interaction that makes her father smile, only briefly, before you scowl his way.

“i thought you told them we met at a tutoring session.” 

“you were failing?” you raise a brow, taking your own seat beside her father. 

“see! this boy failure is a bad influence on our daughter!” a glare settles on the slopes of satoru’s angelic features, mirrored by your child’s unimpressed expression across the table. in his arms, your youngest fusses about as if he senses the mounting tension at the table — earning a bounce or two from daddy, who turns your way all matter-of-factly like. “see, this why he doesn’t have a 401K”

“why would a teenager have a 401k, satoru!” comes your 

“i had one when i was his age.” satoru shoots back and the kid sinks nervously in his seat. the poor boy looks as though he wants to disappear, squirming in place like he’s no better than a worm on a bait hook — it’s torture being interrogated and inspected by someone so close to the person you love most, but even he knows how important satoru’s approval is to your daughter.

she wouldn’t say it now, not when she was all grown up and finding her way out in the world — but she idolised gojo, all of her fondest memories are painted in his colours. shades of sapphire and azure like his vivid eyes, snowy white from his hair that almost rivals the clouds in the sky — the backdrop to days spent riding her father’s shoulders through the big wide world, racing down grassy green hills and wasting the hours away. she wouldn’t admit it here, today, but she never wanted to leave those memories. leave her father behind in her youth — it was written on each dip and curve and highlight on her youthful face, she wanted her father to move into this next phase of life with her too.

“daddy, you were a trust fund baby with shit grades and no prospects until you met mum,” she huffs but her words hold no malice, even if the sass brims over the edge of her tone like an emotionally charged, overflowing glass of water. you’d chide her for cursing — but you know she means well, stubbornly expressing her desire for approval to her man child of a father. “a loser, if you will.” 

gojo slumps, the rosey petals of his plump lips pushing into an age old pout. “how could you say that about dear old dad?” he whines, as though he’s a wounded animal. 

“well she’s not wrong, baby. you were a loser satoru, you still are.” the words are fond and light hearted on your tongue, a similar state to the wisps of a smile that trace over your own lips. leaning in close, you tickle the nose of the gurgling baby boy in his arms, heart heavy with affection — grateful that the one interaction you had with your husband all those years ago ( when he was a scrapier and misunderstood ) led you both to the beautiful chaotic family you have together now. “a hot one at least.” 

“gross.” your daughter groans and buries her embarrassed gaze in the spread of food on the neatly laid table — grabbing a plate and piling it high to cope.

her boyfriend chuckles nervously, wanting nothing more but to eat and do the same. desperate to hide from gojo’s intimidating aura, but too afraid to cross another one of his ridiculous invisible lines. “i think that’s very sweet mrs gojo!”

the brief moment of peace in the war of dad v boyfriend is then interrupted by the white haired man’s temper tantrum, realising that his only daughter is still in the room. “don’t push it kid.” the father of your children all but wails and finds something else about the young couple to pick apart. “you’re sitting too close together! move apart!” 

“daddy—!”

“w-what?”

“i said move it or lose it kid, before i keel over and die of heartbreak.” “betrayal. my own daughter, leaving me for someone else.” 

the two separate, shifting their chairs away from one another despite never actually being too close. you share an empathetic look with your eldest, empathetic to your husband’s actions. you both knew he wouldn’t handle the meeting well, but this was beyond your whilst dreams. the young couple’s hands remain intertwined under the table cloth as the meal begins properly, and when satoru notices, he doesn’t comment — biting down hard on his unhappy tongue. he knows all too well what it’s like to love against the odds, his father in law hardly wanted him around you. it’s not like he wasn’t aware how bad he was for you, how your standards might have even dropped for the man to be with him. but you loved satoru with your entire being, wholly and against all of your own parent’s wishes. 

in a way, the dinner tonight reminds him of himself meeting your father for the first time — how he had to work for his approval too. prove that he was more than just a spoilt brat. too caught up in the memories, the odd sense of loss threaded between his every breath and the love he holds for his daughter settled in his lungs — gojo almost kissed the way you whisper to him adoringly, head drooping to rest on his shoulder mostly to look at your baby but partly to comfort him. “you’re being dramatic satoru. look at them, don’t you just love young love.” 

and he does, he looks, really looks — softly staring across the table and through the haze of his own judgement, noticing how happy his little girl looks all wrapped up with her boyfriend. all he’s ever wanted is to keep her smiling, give her a life that his parents couldn’t give him, he feels all of his resentment and fear or losing his daughter melt away like a plain sheet of paper dissolving in water. he loves her too much to not let her be happy, his baby. his little girl. 

“no, not at all,” satoru finally relents with a wobbling voice and silvery tears that dot his vision — shaking his head back and forth to stop them from dropping onto his sleeping son gathered in his arms. “w-why would you say that? god, is it allergy season? my eyes are killing me. they’re not cute at all, why would you say that i’m crying?” 

your teenage daughter glances over, relief evident in all of her identical gojo features. “no one mentioned you crying, daddy.” she coos softly in an attempt to console satoru.

it doesn’t work, he starts dry heaving and sobbing. which is new for her, he hasn’t cried this hard since her baby brother was born.

the kid scrambles into his pocket and damn near stumbles over the table in order to hand your white haired lover a tissue. “i don’t think you’re crying sir!” 

“shut up!” gojo sniffles dramatically, putting on his best theatre kid act and drapes himself ( and the baby ) all over you. “shit, is this cushioned tissue? three ply?” pale, deft fingers swipe at the blue pools of eyes which well with tears while the kid nods over enthusiastically — desperate to please his girlfriend’s guardian. “good stuff this is… but this doesn’t mean i approve of you for my daughter!”

“gojo!” 

“whaaaaat!? he doesn’t have a 401K!”

ᯓ★ RYOMEN SUKUNA:

if you’d told sukuna, almost a decade and a half ago, that he would end up with a life shrouded in domestic bliss — he would have laughed in your face. maybe even called you a cunt whilst telling you to fuck off. back then, when he was younger and the spirit of ambitious fire burned brightly in his veins as though he had petroleum for blood, the pink haired man never dreamed of settling down. buying a house. getting married. or having kids.

he was as untameable as a wild horse, with only one goal in mind. to open up his restaurant and get his family out of that shithole town by all and any means. he’d cross whatever rivers he had to, climb whatever mountains he needed to — push past societal hurdles that judged him for the pink in his hair and the thick ink on his body. ryomen sukuna did not care. not about anyone else, only about his goals.

at least, until he met you. 

in many ways, you were a blessing to the world where sukuna was a curse. his complete opposite, the day to his night. though the worlds and lives you came from were completely different — 

nowadays, the man is a little softer around the edges and weaker in the heart — they say that’s what true love does to you.

a set of keys jingle at the front door, followed by the dull thud of trainers on the shoe rack and footsteps on the mahogany wood floor. sukuna hardly looks up from the article he’s reading — something about the best recipes for autumnal vegetables. who would have thought, ryomen sukuna, reading up on gardening. he would tell anyone who asked it was for his restaurant, not because he actually enjoyed it. would make him look soft. 

“hey, i’m home!” the voice that calls to him is sweet and youthful, a dulcet symphony that tugs paternally at the pink haired man’s heart strings. “is ma here?” 

sukuna smiles to himself behind the newspaper, inhaling its fresh ink scent. “in the kitchen, workin’,” he replies absentmindedly, listening to his daughter skid down the hall after dropping her backpack. “oi squirt, you ain’t slick. you know what day it is, report card. now.” 

there’s a dramatic sigh that follows footsteps trailing back into the living room. sukuna’s daughter, his pride and joy clings onto the doorframe with a scowl that could very well rival his own, ruby red eyes twinkling with annoyance — she’s in a rush to chat with her mother after school, he knows, but he can’t help but to tease her just a bit. “s’in my bag, can i go now?” she whines impatiently but takes off at the first gentle nod from her father in reply. 

but the pink haired parent’s peaceful evening is quickly turned upside down at the discovery he makes in the bottom of his pride and joy’s bag. no matter how much time has passed, how many decades have gone by in which he’s been a father — nothing could prepare him for this new challenge, the new wave of emotions that come with having a tween daughter and swirl hotly in his chest.

“what the fuck is this?” he announces with a foul snarl, slipping into the kitchen where his girls chitchat idly over a test batch of cookies sukuna had made earlier in the day. for his restaurant of course. not because he’s a doting husband or loving father. he’s got an image to uphold and it’s not one of domestic bliss. 

his daughter chirps, not looking up from the sweet treat she picks apart and pops into her mouth — seated on the kitchen island while you work away on your laptop. “what’s what, daddy?” her innocent nonchalance about the older sukuna’s discovery almost makes him pop a vein. “also, ma told you to stop saying the f-word. so, swear jar.”

the hulking man with the contrastingly soft pink pokes his tongue into the soft epithelium of his cheek, his jaw ticks and a playful frustration tingles throughout all four of his limbs. the swear jar was something you’d brought into play as soon as [daughter name] had learned how to talk, afraid that your rough and rugged husband’s potty mouth would rub off on her young impressionable mind. every time a cursed word falls from between ryomen sukuna’s lips, a couple hundred yen is popped into the jar as punishment. the thing was practically full by your baby’s third birthday, so you’ve been putting it down as her college fund ever since.

paper rustles between deft and tattooed fingers as sukuna reveals not a report card, but a crinkled note like the kind passed back and forth between distracted kids in the middle of that one class before lunch. “don’t play dumb with me, squirt.” ryomen holds the note up to the light so that both of his girls can see, blood diamond eyes squinting so he can inspect it better. somebody get this guy his glasses. “‘do you want to go out with me? tick for yes, cross for no.’” he reads out loud, each word leaving a bitter taste on his tongue, his frown so deep that lines of disapproval form on his well-aged face.

thoughts of the once all-important report card vanish into thin air, the relaxed aura in the room replaced with a palatable tension that not even your husband’s finest knives could cut. your precious baby girl shoots up from the counter to scramble with her dad over the note in hand. he holds her back with a large palm to the forehead.

“oh my god! you weren’t supposed to see that! daddy, give it here. please!”

“fat chance, squirt,” the tattooed man retorts. “you passin’ notes in class? that why you’re hidin’ your report card?” 

“you can have my report card, when you give that back!”

with the two standing side by side, the resemblance strikes you as clear as day. they share the same hair, same scowl and same rugged intonation to their voices. they’re both yours, your entire world under one roof. before they can blow said root off, you stand between the elder and younger sukuna — turning to your husband with hooded eyes and a gentle hand on the centre of his broad chest. “oh ryo,” you coo in flirtation, slowing his train of thought as you sneakily swipe the crushed paper from his grip. “shut up ‘n let me see that.”

your daughter gags behind you at the display of affection, contrasting with the amused smirk you share with your long time lover. after all this time, marriage and the perfect kid, you’re still able to make a fool out of him — make sukuna’s heart skip a beat and a heat he refuses to acknowledge crawl up the back of his neck. he’s gone soft, for you and his family. for now, for you, he relents on taunting his precious little girl. 

casting your gaze over the note, you grin at the pink-ink chicken scratch scribbled across the page. it’s sweet and endearing, reminding you of young love. “did atsushi finally ask you out?” you ask tenderly, handing the paper back to your daughter who cuddles it to her chest like the  physical version of a precious memory. 

a bashful expression lines the contours of her face, seeping into features you’d recognise from your husband on her. sukuna would argue that she has the shape of your eyes and your beauty too — but all you see is a culmination of love. “ma you were so totally right, playing hard to get really works!” 

she gushes dreamily over her crush like it’s puppy love, biting her lip and bouncing on the spot. 

“like a charm, every time.” comes your entertained response, much to your husband’s dismay.

“you weren’t playin’ hard to get with me…” sukuna questions rather than states, trying to piece together parts of the gossip that he’s missed. an anxiety corners the beat of his heart at the thought of his daughter dating, something in which the burly man never thought he would be afraid of. the world had been hard on sukuna; he only worries that it’s not as safe for his pride and joy as it were for him.   “never mind that; the brat asked you out with a piece of paper?  y’better not have said yes. we have standards here.” 

his words make you roll your eyes with the hint of a smile. ryomen almost reminding you of your own father around the time you’d met him.

your daughter scrunches her nose petulantly, gearing herself up for a witty reply. “well ma married you, so her standards can’t be that high.” she snaps, earning a stifled laugh from you and an unimpressed grunt from her hardheaded dad. “and no, i didn’t. told him he needed to ask me out  properly. face to face. with words. he said to meet him on the running track tomorrow at lunch for a surprise!”

pulling her into a hug, you kiss her round youthful cheek. “oh baby, i'm so happy for you!”

“well i ain’t! show me the damn kid, need to see what kind of pitiful brat wants to ask out my little girl,”  sukuna crosses his arms and grumbles to himself, black ink tattoos flexing menacingly as he does so. almost as if he’s preparing to threaten the kid before even meeting him. “whatever happened to askin’ for permission to court or whatever. he should have been on my doorstep asking for your hand.” 

“firstly you would have said no, and secondly this isn’t the olden days, dad. nobody does that anymore.” your cheeky daughter chides him loudly, her words slipping over her snarky little tongue. like father like daughter, the way they snip and snap at one another has an uncanny resemblance.

tilting your head upwards towards your fuming husband, you laugh breathlessly in a way that washes away his anger.“she’s right ryo; though my dad hardly approved of you either.” you say softly. even now, you make him feel weak in the knees and dizzy in the mind, like he’s so anything for you. whoever dates his daughter should feel the same about her.

“i freakin’ earned it, didn’t i? 

“just barely.”

sukuna huffs but settles a hand on your waist from behind and his head atop yours. he needs to soothe himself somehow, his daughter is growing too fast. “stop ganging up on me and lemme see the damn kid.” 

“here, isn’t he cute.” 

lips downturned, sukuna craned his neck to look at your daughter’s phone from over your shoulder — scrutinising the instagram page that she’s opened now offering the kid his only child has taken an interest in like a lamb at the slaughterhouse. “brat looks like a noodle.” haughty laughter fills the kitchen, reverberating against the bones and organs in ryomen’s chest and buzzing right though your back. “you’re right i woulda said no as soon as he fuckin’ turned up!” 

two sets of scolding eyes similar in shape, belonging to the two girls he loves the most swivel around to face the pink haired man disapprovingly.

“ryomen sukuna!” 

“daddy!”

“yeah yeah, i know. swear jar.”

ᯓ★ SUGURU GETO:

“my love, were you aware that our little munchkin has a boyfriend?”

suguru looks up from the bubbling pot of child friendly pasta sauce on the stove. if it were just the two of you having dinner tonight, like it was merely three (nearly four) years ago — he would have planned for a more adventurous meal. perhaps sought out a bottle of fine aged wine for you both to enjoy on the balcony and even gotten a dessert to sweeten the date in. but now, you both had more than two hungry tummies to worry about, and bottles of wine could only be purchased when the little one was off with her uncle satoru.

“no, i wasnt. i don't believe that’s come up in discussion before,” your dark haired lover turns his narrow gaze to the giggly little girl swaddled in your arms — her chubby cheeks and dark, curious eyes just peeking out of the fluffy duck-themed towel you’ve wrapped her in. bath time is usually after bed, but someone got into the paint pots at nursery school and managed to get blotches of blue streaked through her hair and under her fingernails. “care to elaborate sweetheart?”

suguru taps the wooden sauce spoon against the side of the pot and swipes his hands on a nearby tea towel before allowing them to rest on his hips, look of faux irritation settling on the contours of his face and slopes of his features. thin brows draw together like closed gates in the middle of his forehead — the expression earning airy light and squealed laughter from your baby girl.

“nuh uhhh! not my boy-fend!” she babbles her way through the big girl word, missing a few syllables here and there, but geto still grins with pride — happily leaning forward to press enthusiastic kisses to his little angel’s damp forehead. “no boy-fend papa!

bouncing your daughter slightly, you cock your hip out to hold her weight and cheekily roll your eyes. “such a daddy’s girl, lying to him already? he’ll let you get away with anything if you keep that up,”  though you muster up a pout to rival the toddler’s, the uncanny resemblance warming the cockles or your husband’s heart, your tone is playful and adoring — it’s lilt full of love for the baby girl you made together. you pinch her chubby cheek, waggling it from side to side as more of her childlike laughter tangles with the scent of pasta in the air.  “we bumped into the fujioka boy and his mother at the gates this morning, he held her hand all the way up to the classroom. it was quite cute. you had to be there, love.” 

“i’m sure,” he responds, gentle mirth and protectiveness swirling in dark framed eyes.

you relay the information to your husband as though it’s hot gossip fresh from the press, whispering over your dark-haired daughter’s head not so secretly. even with the hair and eyes to match suguru’s, she’s still just as much your carbon copy as she is his — he tends to say all of her spirit comes from you, not to mention the way she laughs and smiles.

shaking her head between you, both — your baby chimes in brightly. “noooo mama!! boys are gross, i don’ hold hands with boys.”

this time suguru manoeuvres to pinch her other chubby cheek, clicking his tongue as he does so. “not even papa?” he pretends to pout, crouching down with his hands on his knees to coo into her sweet little face. 

“nuhhh, papa isn’t gross!! papa is my favourite boy!” she quickly tacks on with a dribbly smile.

“that’s right. i’ll be the only boy in your life always, just you and i princess,” your husband reaffirms with a firm shake of his head and presses a promise in the form of a kiss to your daughter’s nose. her chubby little hands, still wet from bath time, smack either side of suguru’s face and keep him close — close enough for her to plant a soggy smooch onto his forehead affectionately. a wet kiss only a father could love. “that settles it, i’m no longer sharing my kisses. papa says no boyfriends until you’re ninety.”

once your two loves are done sharing their candied affections, you seat your daughter on the edge of the kitchen table to allow geto the room to finish up with dinner. the comforting symphony of baby babbles and kitchen utensils clanking and food boiling fills the steamy air, it makes you smile. it feels like home. “oh come on suguru, they’re only three. don’t you think it’s the tiniest bit adorable?” you say with a sing-songy voice, entertaining both your little one and her father.“they even share their animal crackers during break time and crayons when it’s time to colour, one of the supervisors told me.”

with his back now to you as he stirs through the pasta sauce one final time, you hardly miss the way suguru’s shoulders tense at the mention of the little boy your girl has taken a liking to. he wouldn’t dare frown about it in front of her, what upsets daddy upsets baby too. that’s why he’s always smiling for her, and you find the man’s subtle jealousy endearing. it’s always supposed to be suguru and his princess, with no room for anyone else ( aside from you, of course ) 

“nope, no boyfriends. no amount of cuteness can convince me otherwise.” voice falling tight and flat, suguru reaches into the cupboards for plates and bowls to dish up his lovingly prepared home cooked meal, slamming them into place at the table with a little less patience than before. 

the idea of some… little boy chasing after his daughter’s heart? over his dead body.

“boy-fends are gross!” but your daughter is forever a daddy’s girl, furrowing her brow and crossing her tiny arms in an act of defiance — supporting her papa’s cause. boyfriends are bad! 

fuelling her excitement and even more support for papa — food is served shortly by your husband, who plates up as best as he can with toddler safe dinnerware. you adjust your little girl into her high chair at the table, giggling to yourself softly when she cranes her neck to keep an eye on suguru. “does that mean papa’s gross? he’s technically mama’s boyfriend.”

“husband, love, there’s a difference.” 

three plates of hot, aromatic spaghetti are organised in a table — each a domestic reminder of the family suguru geto has been blessed with. in that moment, he thinks he would be happy if he spent the rest of his life as just the three of you. briefly his mind wonders to setting a fourth place at the table in a decade or so’s time, once his daughter truly is old enough to date. the very thought makes him feel ill. 

round, doe eyes dart between you and suguru as you take your seats either side of your darling daughter at the table — she mimics you both with fumbling little fingers that reach for her baby fork and concentrates as she attempts to repeat your husband’s words. “can i have a husbsband-love?”

you laugh and kiss her cheek, helping her to gather a bite of pasta on the full end of her fork. “husband. just husband, my love. make sure you blow on your food please!” she follows your instructions with a comical air, cheeks puffing and breath huffing while you explain why her father is a second away from blowing his top. “good girl. husband’s aren’t for babies, baby. and i think papa might not like it if you got one now.”

“if you got one ever!” suguru interjects, eyes narrowing while he fights with his lips to avoid a scowl. “the answer is still no, princess. no husbands and no boyfriends until papa is old, cold and in the ground.” 

now that your hands are free, you grab the nearest tea towel and wind it up in your grip — launching its tail end at geto as though to swat at  him. he jumps in surprise and your daughter shrieks in amusement as she begins babbling again. “don worry, papa!. fujioka is  no my boy-fend!!” she says over food in her mouth and happy tummy. geto wipes over her face again. she’ll definitely need another bath later. “hasegawa is!!”

the pair of you share a look and this time, you really think suguru might just throw in the towel. 

how could he compete with pre-school love and paint pots shared over playtime gossip? 

“two boyfriends? oh god, love… i think need some air.”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

Only him

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x reader

Summary: You always had a thing for retro games. When you got a old dating game from a pond shop for practically free, you thought you were blessed. how wrong were you.

Warning: Yandere!Toji, Fictional love triangle, Horror? Al!sentient!Toji, Angst, Panty smelling, A hint of somnophilia, Perv!Toji, Domestic abuse, Manhandling, Smut, fingering, squirting, cum-shot, cream pie, hair pulling, choking, this is a dark fanfic.

Today was the best day ever! You had a good feeling about this day, but you didn't know why until now!

You squealed loudly as you stepped out of the local pond shop, unable to help it; you danced with happiness and began to walk to your shoe box of an apartment while ignoring the disapproving stares of those who watched the scene.

The thud of your purse colliding with the floor didn't faze you, either when you almost tripped over your toss shoes. Too absorbed to care.

Flopping onto your bed, you took in the details of the Nintendo game card. The picture on the front was a bit chipped but it was still eye-catching. A pink heart sat front and center, with tiny red lettering of the title in the middle, and a park with cherry blossoms trees was the background. Mr. Right, hmm? I see about that.

Grabbing your old Nintendo Switch from your bedside table, you popped the card in the side and waited. A cheerful, 90s tune sounded out as the picture on the card filled your switch screen. With a smile, you turned to lay on your back as you clicked play, and once the pink screen faded, a menu of different features graced you. Character list?

The first roll of characters was less than eye-catching, and although the designs were made to be attractive, none captivated you. The second roll appeared to be just the same when two characters that stood side by side caught your attention. Black ragged hair lay on his forehead and almost covered the beautiful green eyes of the first character; they were like a freshly cut emerald, shined to perfection. His lips pulled up into a smug smirk, and an old scar ran down the right side of his mouth. The black jacket and white button-up shirt did nothing to hide his muscular build.

You gulped as your core pulsed.

The other character was just as handsome. His hair was white as snow, styled in a half down half spiked hairstyle, giving him a boyish look. His eyes rivaled the older man before him, pure light blue. Unlike the other character, his build was slimmer but no less attractive, his playful, cocky grin did things no real man could do to you.

Well, you knew what characters you'd be playing with.

Days passed and you couldn't put down your switch. Every lunch break at work was spent playing Mr. Right rather than eating and at night, the only light in your apartment was the screen light of your game. You were like a dead girl walking, dark bags under your eyes and a slouched posture; you swore you heard a kid's small scream as you placed down his and his mother's food on the table of the cafe where you worked.

So when things begin to go missing, you blame it on your tiredness. Surely, you must have misplaced them. You mean, who would break into your home to steal a few of your used underwear, o-or like your old t-shirts? Right, that's insane! You didn't think you were too interesting to be stalked; god you need to take a break from reading Yandere stories.

You shook your head and scoffed at yourself as you left your apartment, locking the door before you walked to work.

The room was purged in an eerie silence until suddenly loud, unsettling static screamed out of your left open switch. The lights of your apartment flickered rapidly as the sound seemed to grow louder when everything turned off, pitching the entire apartment building into darkness.

Toji stood in front of your twin-sized bed, running his hand over the imprint in the mattress when the light flicked on. He inhale shakily as the tips of his fingers traced the slight dip as memories flood his sick head, the nights he lay behind you his hands on your tits, pawing and squeezing them in his palms before he abandoned one breast as he runs his hand down your body to your warm cunt but just before he touched you there. He stopped. He couldn't. He wanted you to be awake to feel his love.

Toji stepped back, pushing the memory away as he moved around the small place you called home.

Shamrock orbs tailed around the quiet space, taking in the half-clean and half-messy state until they found the object of their desire. Toji walked in the direction of his favorite item, and without much thought, he snagged a pair of used panties from the laundry basket and buried his nose in the worn fabric. A deep rumbling groan escaped his chest and his eyes flattered shut. The scent of your old musky still clung to it, and he inhaled it like it was the most intoxicating, sweet smell. To him. It was. It was the essence of his goddess, his doll. The one who helped him see the value of life.

Without you, he'd never have broken away from his cured reality, who always seemed so eager to see him and..that white-haired punk. Toji shook his head, disgusted at the thought of the other man, and instead filled his mind with you. Toji spent the rest of the time you were gone to learn more and, of course, returned to the game after picking some trinkets along the way.

The game was starting to get a little weird. At first, it was normal. You'd interact with Toji, your in-game father none the wiser of the relationship between his daughter and best friend, then you'd hang out with your college classmate and friend Gojo. When you begin to notice every time you played with Gojo, a small chibi in the form of toji would peek around the corner of the screen every once in a while. Then it became more disturbing. You couldn't find the blue-eyed male anywhere; almost like he was completely deleted from the game.

On top of that, the older man would say and ask things that were too specific and too possessive. One day, he'd ask you where you went and who you were with when you suddenly had to leave your switch at home because of a family emergency. He'd go on about how he was your true love, and you simply thought maybe he was programmed that way, but it was no less creepy. You eventually just decided to take the day off from playing.

You woke up with a jump and groaned. Your phone vibrated and pinged with your chosen notification sound constantly. "Ya gonna answer me dollface?" A guff, baritone voice spoke in the empty room, and with a small scream, you slammed your back against the wall your bed was pushed against. Scanning hecticly for any human form.

"Over here." The voice spoke, closer than you heard the first time and to your right. Looking to your bedside table, sat your phone, lit up with an unnerving light; you picked it up with a shaking hand, and a cold dread settled within your stomach as Toji stared back at you with a small smirk, his eyes dark with such intensity. "There ya are. Hi, doll." His smirk widens at your terrified expression. "H-how?" Your voice cracked with fear, how was this possible? This couldn't be real; this only happened in movies! But apparently fucking not.

"Don't know myself, but that not 'mportant. You thought you could just ignore me? Doll this doesn't work that way." his smirk faded, and without warning, your phone suddenly flew out of your hand, crashing to the floor, and a blinding light overtook the space, blurring your vision. Once your vision came back, the beefy man stood before you, his eyes bore into you.

That was only the beginning of the nightmare that became your life. You were trapped in a place you once thought that nothing bad could happen to you as long as you lived there. Toji never let you leave his sight, food and other stuff you needed were ordered and brought to your door. Your phone and other devices were completely contorted by the man who currently seemed to watch your every move like he was taking you in. Many times, you tried to escape, but you came to the knowledge that although Toji could sleep, the moment your feet would touch the floor, Toji's eyes opened and, in a sleepy voice, asked where you were going. He was a light sleeper, that's just your damn luck.

Maybe...there was a chance you could tire him out enough he was knocked out cold, giving you enough time to escape. Now you were no virgin, you had your fair share of sex, so you thought it would be a piece of cake. Oh, how laughable.

Toji's thick digits, curled and pushed against that gushy spot in your spongy core, and his palm smacked against your poor, rubbed raw clitoris as you desperately tugged at his cock. You cried out as your head was pulled back by the strands of your hair. "There she is. C'mon on, doll, look at 'er," He whispered against your ear as he forced you to look into the mirror, his grip tightening as your pussy clenched. In the reflective glass, you look just as wrecked as you felt. Lidded eyes stared back at you as you took everything in, your hair was pulled into a ponytail by the man behind you, three of his fingers thrust into your puffy cunt, and squirts of slick jutted out to cover your thighs, his palm, and the floor. One of your hands holds onto his arm, and the other slides up and down his cock.

"ain't she the fuckin' prettiest?" Toji bit your earlobe as he no longer thrusted but began to shake his digits rapidly against your walls. You screamed as you violently came, clear liquid spraying out, drenching Toji's palm that rubbed your clit as he continued to finger you. Your hips jerked, your legs shook, and tears cascaded down your face; you looked like a slutty mess in the mirror.

"Fuuuck!" You hissed in pain, your hands barely catching yourself as your knees sit the hard wooden floor; the only thing that held you up, that being Toji's arm, was ripped away. Yet you had no time to truly feel the pain in your kneecaps as your locks yanked backward, training your orbs onto the man in all his naked glory, his strawberry pink tip wept pre-cum and the owner of such a beautiful tip, fisted his dick as he growled and snarled until he let out a groan and pearly, spurts of semen painted your face, to your cheek, nose, and chin.

"Fuckin' hell, doll," Toji panted, "s' beautiful covered in me." He wiped his seed off your chin with his thumb and spread it on your lip like a gloss, and without thought your tongue traced your bottom lip, tasting his cum. Earning yourself a pretty groan before you were pulled up from the ground and onto your wobbly legs. "Toji-i can't." You stuttered, your back hitting the mattress, crawling up the bed in a fertileless attempt to worm from his grasp, but his hands gripped your hips and pulled your back til your ass laid on his thighs, "T-too sensitive. Please." You begged basically to a wall.

"ya can handle me, my doll can handle anythin'." He cooed, his thumb rubbing the dip of your hip as his other hand, took the base of his member and lined up with your cunt. "Toji-plea-" your words were cut as you screamed, his fingers dug into your neck and his thick length buried itself in your snug pussy

"Mmmm..Shiiiit babydoll!" Toji laughed as he stared down at where he disappeared into you, slowly drawing his hips back, "She's squeezin' me, nugh..think she's lovin' my dick." Toji's wicked green eyes glanced up, and with a nasty grin he snapped his hips, and your mouth dropped as you openedly moaned, tossing your head back against the pillow. Your thighs were pushed to the side as The older man put all his weight onto you and used it to drill you into the mattress. "You..mmfuck like this? Betcha do, takin' my cock like a champ." He chuckled, groaning at the end as your pussy clenched at his words. You babbled in denial and shook your head. You didn't want to give him an even bigger ego, but you couldn't help the mewl that left your lips as his fingers squeezed the sides of your neck and his other fingers entangled in your hair, "Don't fuckin' lie to me, girl." He sneered, his heaving chest against your smashed breast as his hips snapped, not missing a step behind him, "Jus' let me make that..fuck..pretty pussy cum." He lowered his voice, almost like he was begging you, as he gently kissed your chin, his hand letting go of your hair and his grip loosening around your neck.

You nodded desperately, you gave up on pretending like you weren't losing your mind from this pleasure, and the way it felt his cock felt was in your tummy, or the pleasurable stinging of his hefty ball smacking against the carve of your ass. The softness in Toji melted away like it was just a show, an act, and a wicked, nasty grin was your one warning. His beefy biceps wrapped around your thighs, and he stood up. Your shoulder was the only thing besides your head that stayed on the bed. The echo of your ass smacks against his hips, the wet, squelching echo as he rapidly pounded your slick drooling cunt, the cream of your sex and his pre-cum that framed his base, and the new punishing angle was all it took. You came, your slick gushing down your body.

"Mmfuc..you're milkin' me baby doll." Toji moaned, his cock throbbed as he stilled to a stop as his cum flooded your womb and walls. You had a second to catch your breath before Toji resumed his brutal fucking.

Your eyes slowly open, adjust to the darkness of the room and turn to Toji, the said man in question, lying beside you, sleeping peacefully after multiple rounds, and yet somehow, someway, you were conscious; maybe someone was rooting for you out there. Inhaling you softly planted your feet on the cool wood and lifted your weight. Not a single stir.

Hope gripped your chest as you quietly put on the clothes you wore that were fling when you seduced Toji. Every cautious step towards the door was like you could finally breathe, and once you touched the handle of the door and twisted it open, you could taste your freedom.

Burly appendages wrapped around your stomach, and you yanked away from the door, ripped away from your only chance at escape. "LET ME GO!!" You screamed and thrashed in his arms. "Ya thought I was stupid? Huh?" He grunted as he tightened his hold as you doubled your efforts. "DAMN IT LISTEN TO ME!!" Toji yelled, turning you around. "N-" you tried to scream, to call for help, do anything, but all you could do was stare up at Toji in shock after your body barreled onto the floor by the force of his slap. "You think I'm dumb? You showed no sign of sexual arousal to me until now. Ya thought I wouldn't have known you were gonna pull some shit like this after we fucked?!" He sneered, pulling you onto your feet by your arm, his other hand on your back.

"You ain't leavin' me," Toji vowed. The low static sound that hung in the background became louder as the light bulbs flickered. "I'll make sure of that." The screening static grew more deafening until it all stopped; the bright light of your switch faded away, and no later did it slam shut.

Locking you from the real world forever.

@ilovewriothesley, @scratkount , @tojishugetiddies, @shyartnerd564, @blobkvna, @1800imgay, @plsthinkabtme @karla91663, @pierrotandsam , @miau-ficreader, @tojispepperonis, @darkstarlight82, @crimbabyops , @verlhfghhy, @xxmaddhatter39xx , @grima4lurking, @littlesealpup

[readerforexiao]

Ataraxy | 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ

⌗ Wriothesley x Reader | Fluff, Romance, Established Relationship | tw: plot, light mentions of trauma, readers job was previously a healer, briefly implied abuse & dark past & ptsd, mention of a somewhat graphic injury/ies, same au as Sacrifice | wc: 4.5k |

⌗ A/n: i rushed and i hate it, but I'll get nowhere if i second guess everything, so yes this is all "writing practice" for me, especially dialogue bcs that's one of my weaker skills.

⌗ "And how could you not smile upon seeing life pour out from those truly deserving of happiness?”

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, it bathed the sky in a warm, golden light, gradually shifting through hues of orange, pink, and purple. A gentle breeze whispered through the tall grass, swaying the blossoming fields of flowers in a soft, rhythmic dance.

The atmosphere was peaceful, undisturbed, until the soft murmur of their voices blended with the distant birdsong as they walked hand in hand along the winding pathways.

"Where are you taking me?" you asked, curiosity bubbling up as you felt the tickling sensation of what you assumed to be grass brushing against your legs.

"Somewhere," Wriothesley replied vaguely, pausing only for a moment to adjust your blindfold. "You can’t see anything, right?"

"Not a thing!" you answered, chuckling softly as you extended your hand free of his to the side, feeling the tips of grass graze your palm as you crossed the edge of the pathway. "But I can definitely feel long grass, so I’m guessing it’s─"

"Nothing!" he cleared, his voice rising a little higher than he intended before adding in a softer, more composed tone, "Dear"

“Alright, alright. It’s nothing, I shall assume no further” you teased, squeezing his hand as he resumed guiding you into the unknown.

After years of survival and constant fighting, the nightmares that shaped you had begun to fade when you settled into a quieter, more domestic lifestyle. Not to say the healing process happened overnight or that it would ever truly heal completely, but you'd be surprise how much of a difference the right company can make.

One small decision can change everything, but it's never without challenges.

Old habits die hard, as they say. Even now, despite knowing you were the safest with the man holding your hand, a deep instinctual memory of the times when you had been held down and robbed of your vision against your will surfaced, and subconsciously you fell back on those old instincts of paranoia.

Your ears sharpened to the sounds surrounding you, picking up the melodic chirping of birds, the rustle of grass, and the faint whistle of the breeze. The air carried the earthy scent of damp soil, the crisp freshness of dew-covered grass, and the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers. You recognized the outdoors as instinctively as you recognized your lover's eyes in the dark. However, beyond that little knowledge, your awareness stopped there.

Still, with blind trust, you let him guide you, placing your heart in his weathered hands as though he held the gift of life itself.

You drew in a deep breath, silently pleading for your anxiety to settle— a battle you’d often lost. But this one time, against all odds, it listened and quieted itself as though it finally caves and realized it needed not fret when Wriothesley was by your side.

Wriothesley squeezed your entwined fingers in reassurance once again, and you couldn’t help but recall the night his smile first drew you in; the fateful night of your first encounter, when his body convulsed and rough screams tore from his throat as you removed several shards of metal and glass from his torso. As you wiped the sweat from his brow and patted it away from his chest, unable to stop yourself from flinching at the sight of the pain and exhaustion etched onto his beautiful face.

The second when your gaze collided with his and you met the muted shades in his eyes— though lacking vivid color— something about them infused your world with a vibrancy it had never known before. His warm smile, droopy and effortless in their gratitude, lulling a moment of distress into peace like you have never known all those times your hands soaked in blood.

“How much longer?” you asked, but certainly you had no desire to rush because each minute with him was a joy, a treasured experience. Every second adored and loved, and time be damned if ever you wished it to hurry and run away from you.

“Impatient, are we?” his low voice replied, and you could see the grin that was fixed on his face in your memory. “Just a little further.”

A hint of his excitement slipped through.

How could he restrain the childlike spirit that had been stolen from him when your hand was in his and your love within his heart?

And how could you not smile upon seeing life pour out from those truly deserving of happiness?

Thus, the anticipation mounted as you noticed the subtle shift in pace, curious about what could possibly make the Duke so eager to leave his work unfinished.

Soon, the space was filled with an eerie hollowness, and the sound of your shoes echoed as they crossed the rocks and puddles.

You froze, a shiver of subconscious fear running through you. Wriothesley paused to momentarily release your hand, hus absence startling you but not for a moment too long, and his arms were looping around your waist to bring you close.

"We're entering a cave," He informed, and your love for the man sunk deeper into your core.

It was the relief that came from his small act of thoughtfulness— the brief bit of information, the tone in which it was voiced, and the actions that followed it. His ability to compromise and his effort to balance his excitement and the secrecy while simultaneously reassuring you. It is something of such significance that lies beyond anyone's comprehension.

The chirping of birds gradually faded, replaced by a new muffled sound— an almost imperceptible trickling, like water.

As he neared the surprise he had arranged, Wriothesley stopped and untied the blindfold.

"Are we there yet?"

"Not even close, but almost.." He replied while parting the vines to reveal an entrance to the otherworldly beauty that awaited beyond, the scenery that stole your breath and left your heart momentarily still.

Every inch of the landscape was mesmerizing, as if untouched by time, raw and unfiltered.

You turned in slow circles and everywhere you faced yet another stunning detail unfolded— nature at its purest. You were encased within these naturally crafted walls of rock that made you feel safe and protected from the world outside, as if nothing could possibly reach you.

It was a place where the sun filtered in from above in a way that neither overshadowed the elements below nor diminished its own brilliance, and it's beams of light casting golden hues over the vibrant wildflowers that carpeted the patches of dirt.

A sight like this was bound to leave a lasting impression and how wonderful that it was a memory you would always associate with him.

"Wriothesley..." you whispered his name, breathless, and he swelled with pride.

"Too early to be speechless, sweetheart, there's more"

He led you carefully over the slippery rocks as the water roared beside you, and you couldn’t resist the urge to let your fingers dance through the cascading spray.

Wriothesley watched with delight as your face lit up with wonder and awe. He cherished the way simple things brought you joy, that he knew this would brighten your day. Simply put, Wriothesley loved that you loved him and that things like this could be shared with you.

Eventually, the path narrowed, forcing you both to move in single file, and for a brief moment, you were engulfed in the cool darkness of another cave. This time, no worries ladened your shoulders. You walked with an eagerness, anticipating what could possibly be an even better sight than the one you just saw.

You emerged into a small forest where the sunlight, mirroring the waterfalls, seeped through the thick canopy of trees above, shining dappled patches of light across the forest floor. The air now smelled of pine. The soft crunch of leaves and twigs underfoot as the distant hum of the waterfall fell behind you.

"Beautiful,” you muttered in absolute wonder, entranced by the passing trees and their distinctive appearances, the waving of their brances. Each root told a story while the sturdy bark that ascended into the sky provided shelter for countless animals over the years.

“How on earth did you find this place?"

“Believe it or not, I got lost"

You spared him a glance at his reply. "You.. got lost?"

"Is it hard to believe?" He cleared his throat. “Sometimes the best discoveries happen when you’re not exactly where you planned to be.”

You raised an eyebrow, “So, you were just wandering when you stumbled upon this place?”

"I mean-" Wriothesley hesitated, his mouth opening but then falling closed when the words slipped from his grasp before he could fully form them. He knew there was no point in trying to force the little lie, as innocent as it was, without solid ground beneath it— especially not one you’d believe. He was always confident, quick with his words, but when it came to you, the truth weighed heavier and excuses felt all the more shallow.

The idea of him having enough free time to leisurely explore Fontaine was laughable. With the recent surge in criminal activity and the flood of court cases, both he and Neuvillette had been neck-deep in work. The Fortress of Meropide was overrun with new inmates, and managing the prison had become even more of a balancing act.

“What will it cost me to convince you that I simply got distracted on my way to a pickup point?” he joked, though a hint of nervousness underlined his words.

“Being distracted while on the job doesn’t reflect well on you, Your Grace.” You crossed your arms, an amused smile tugging at your lips as you entertained his playful banter.

“I’ll have you know, I was actually on my lunch break.”

"You hardly leave the house even on your days off," you commented. "You expect me to believe you left the prison on your lunch break for a stroll and ended up getting lost? Your sense of direction may be poor, but i doubt it's that poor Wriothesley."

“Okay, maybe I didn’t get lost in the traditional sense,” he admitted.

"I seriously doubt you got lost at all"

"Can I keep it a secret?" He asked.

“Are you trying to hide something from me, Wriothesley?” you teased. “Did you meet a secret lover here or something?”

His brows furrowed as he shot you an incredulous look. “I'm highly offended. A secret lover? Really? Do you think I’d go gallivanting around with someone else when I could be here with you?”

“I’m just saying, it’s not every day you find yourself wandering in the woods during a workday. It raises questions!”

He shook his head, a smile forming on his mouth despite himself. “You’ve got quite the imagination, but I assure you, my only agenda was to see if this place had any potential for a date. Trust me, this is all about you,” he insisted.

“Then why not just tell me?” you challenged, your words laced with the stubbornness that stemmed from the worries you grappled with every day.

Wriothesley hesitated, and in that moment of hesitation, his gaze was drawn to a single wildflower, unique among the others, nestled between the roots of an old tree, its petals swaying wirh the breeze. When he suddenly stopped walking, you were left puzzled and even more so when he released your hand and turned his back to you. You watched as he crouched down silently, his movements hidden from view as his fingers brushed the cool earth, gently picking the flower he had been eyeing.

For a moment, he simply admired it, its soft colors a stark contrast to the ruggedness of his hand and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, thinking of how it paled in comparison to your beauty. Rising to his feet, he tucked the flower behind his back and returned to you.

"I know how much you tend to worry..." He held out a deep sapphire rose adorned with shimmering flecks of frozen ice. You had never seen anything like it despite visiting many places and encountering countless flowers; none compared to this one.

As you accepted the flower he offered, your fingers brushed during the exchange and you felt the coolness of his bare skin, unencumbered by gloves, gear, or gauntlets.

Your attempt at steadying your racing heart all but failed miserably.

"...And I would rather you enjoy our evening without fretting over how I stumbled upon this place.” You were focused on admiring the rose, still, you frowned at his words. "The phrasing of your words worry me, Wriothesley..."

"Do you not trust me, sweetheart?"

"I do," you said, fixing him with a serious gaze that matched your expression. "Just not with your own life"

Archons have mercy. He couldn't tell if they had blessed him or forsaken him for his heart thudded in a way it never had before, as if he were in the throes of a heart attack. It was a rhythm of emotion he had never experienced before you, and it both exhilarated and terrified him. How could you love him so fiercely, caring so deeply for a life he considered worthless and easily expendable?

Standing alone in the heart of the forest where you were surrounded by the curious gaze of a squirrel and its two tiny offspring, and three bunnies frolicking in the underbrush, their fur reminiscent of your favorite ice cream flavors: caramel, vanilla, and chocolate chip, the world came to a standstill. He thought the moment perfect, feeling as if he had all the time in the world and wished to remain as you were, regardless of the unanswered questions or the surprise he stayed late into the night after work to prepare for you. This was all he wanted: to hear your love confessed with his every breathing second.

"You've been reckless lately. I'm not sure if it's exhaustion or frustration, but I'm aware of the injuries you've tried to hide from me. You should know better than to think Sigewinne wouldn't snitch on you, " you chuckled.

"They were minor injuries," his hold on you tightened as he defended himself.

You flicked his nose.

"Minor? You dove off a cliff, got shot in the shoulder, sustained a knife wound in your thigh, and nearly crushed your other shoulder against a boulder! And how many times have you almost wrecked your gauntlets from punching too hard?"

"Correction, the bullet only grazed my shoulder."

"Oh, so that makes it better? Just a little love tap from a bullet, huh?" You snorted.

He rolled his eyes, but a smirk played on his lips.

You were in for a shock— he knew it would give you a heart attack if you learned that he stumbled upon this majestic place while chasing a few criminals near the waterfalls, ultimately, he had only caught the runaways after taking a tumble over the edge himself. The punishment for revealing such reckless behavior was far too great; he couldn’t bear the thought of enduring days of silence from you without a single kiss.

How did we get here? Wriothesley chuckled at the thought. This conversation was taking a turn completely opposite of what this trip was meant for, but of course he should have known better given your stubborn and caring nature.

You could read him like an open book, and impressively, you could do the same even when it was closed, knowing him so well that you didn't need to see the pages. You could recall chapter numbers along with its contents and even quote your favorite lines. You remembered every contour of the lines on his palms, just as you could recall each scar he bore and the stories behind them.

He cupped your face, grinning ear to ear.

"What's so funny?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Just thinking about how much you care," he replied, feigning innocence.

"Care? I’m practically having a heart attack over here!" You exclaimed, your hands clenched into fists, but then you remembered the rose you were holding and eased up.

Wriothesley noticed and gently took it from you, tucking it safely behind your ear. “You’re right, and that’s why I can't tell you, it'll only worry you more. This trip was supposed to be about relaxation, not me giving you gray hairs.”

“Thoughtful and sweet, and I love you for making time to take me on dates, especially considering how busy you are...”

"But?"

"But you're a crazy bastard, and however you stumbled upon this heavenly place is definitely a cause for concern."

'That’s exactly why I won’t tell you that I fell from the waterfalls and tumbled from that tree over there.' His smile quickly vanished, and his eyes widened as he realized he hadn’t kept that thought in his head like he’d meant to.

“Archons save me, my lover is a complete idiot!” you exclaimed, the frustration spilling out of you. He flinched at the sharpness of your voice, his playful demeanor shifting to one of mild concern.

“Okay, okay, I might’ve misjudged that one,” he admitted, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “But I’m here alive, aren't I!”

“Fine?” you echoed incredulously, throwing him a glare.

Wriothesley took a step closer as he tried to soothe you, not realizing he was digging his grave. “I didn't mean to worry you, my love. I needed to catch those criminals when things got a little... chaotic.”

“A little chaotic? You think falling from a waterfall and crashing into a tree is ‘a little chaotic’?"

You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to calm down. "If you pull another stunt like that, I will tie you to that same damn tree.”

He raised a brow, “Oh really? You think you can keep me tied up?”

“I’ll find a way,” you shot back, trying to sound more assertive than you felt. “You may be strong, but I’m resourceful. Just imagine the look on your face when you realize you’re not getting away this time.”

Wriothesley chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “I have to admit, the thought of you trying to tie me up is rather amusing."

"Talk more and see where that gets you, Wriothesley"

"I'm a yapper, sweetheart. Talking is my specialty"

Clearly

ᯓ ✴︎˚｡⋆

The path you walked wound gently out of the forest, branches brushing your shoulders as you distanced from its heart until the trees thinned, and the setting sun grew visible, spilling ahead into an open field to reveal a hidden clearing where the butterflies fluttered between the long glass, and a soft brisk of wind carried the scent of pollen through the air.

In the center stood a lone tree, its branches heavy with blossoms that seemed to sway in dance with the breeze.

You drank in the sight, breathing it in like the crisp air that filled your lungs, knowing you would leave this place with its image seared into your soul, never to fade.

Amidst the haven of colors and a great many unique fragrances, a cozy little picnic blanket lay spread out, surrounded by cushions and a spread of food from the basket.

The dainty glow of seelie lights strung between the branches, spilling its orange warmth below, and along the pathway you strolled, an entourage of fireflies escorted you.

Wriothesley grinned so widely his cheeks ached, and his eyes stung from not blinking—he couldn’t bear to miss a single second of your awe-struck expression.

"What do you think? Did I redeem myself? " Wriothesley spoke, his voice blending seamlessly with nature's song—low, honeyed, and rough in all the right ways. It harmonized with the surroundings yet still managed to stand out and draw in your attention.

"Up until a few minutes ago I thought nothing could possibly beat the waterfalls.."

“Worth nearly dying for, wasn’t it?” Wriothesley teased, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. But the humor fell flat as your expression shifted, disapproval etched across your face, your brow furrowed, and lips pressed into a tight line.

“Please don’t joke about that,” you said softly but firmly, the seriousness in your voice unmistakable. You hadn’t meant to darken the mood yet again, but after everything that had been said in the forest, one thing was clear— Wriothesley’s reckless disregard for his own life was far more troubling than he realized.

Wriothesley's expression faltered at the weight of your words. His gaze dropped briefly before meeting yours again, this time softer: understanding the concern behind your stern tone.

"I’m sorry, sweetheart," he said, "I didn’t mean to upset you."

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders loosening just a little. “It’s not about upsetting me. It’s about you not seeing the value in your own life. Every time you throw yourself into danger like that, it feels like you're slipping further away.”

His brows knitted together, “I’m not used to people worrying about me, not like you do,” he admitted quietly. “I guess I didn’t realize how much it bothered you.”

“It does only because I care. And I don’t want to lose you.”

Your faith in him was unshakable and you knew his strength, his resilience, and how capable he was of handling himself. But the world wasn’t as kind and it didn’t share your affection for him. If anything, it was the cruelty of that world that fed the fears that kept you up at night.

You had given all you could. And so had he.

Today was meant to rekindle your love and commitment after months of survival, sacrifice, and tireless work. This trip had been planned as a time to reconnect, to bask in the golden afternoon sun and lose yourselves in each other, making up for the moments you’d given away to the world. It was supposed to be just the two of you, wrapped in the peace of the scenery. Yet, as you stood before him, he realized this heartfelt conversation was exactly where all that time apart had led him.

Wriothesley was accustomed to worse, much worse. He had never experienced someone caring for him the way you did, and adjusting to that was knowingly going to be a challenge. In the past, his life felt meaningless. He fought without a clear purpose, indifferent to the thought of death; if it came, it came.

But every day spent with you was filled with stolen glances and lingering smiles, a desperate longing for your touch. You would sneak an hour from work to bring him lunch, slipping letters through a guard to reach him. You even adjusted your grocery shopping routes to pass by the prison, timing your visits for when new inmates were expected to arrive. Each small act was a testament to the connection you shared, a defiance against the constraints that kept you apart. And it made him realize how deeply he craved this kind of connection; how much he wanted to fight not just for himself, but for something greater.

This is what had been missing all along: a reason to fight, a reason to care. He now often found himself pondering the future, imagining a life where he wasn’t just surviving but truly living.

One thing he needed to improve was precisely what you had scolded him about: the value of his own life.

Happiness had the tendency to ebb and flow, and at times all those buried emotions and anxieties would surface, triggered by just a single word. But as you expressed your growing concern for the man before you, you felt an invisible weight lift from your chest, and a deep-seated worry begin to fade. A sudden wave of ease washed over you, as if nature in its ability to calm, had liberated you.

Wriothesley turned you around until the only view was of him framed against the painted sky. With a smile, he leaned in and rested his forehead against yours. His hands gliding down your forearm, chilled fingers elicting goosebumps. He took hold of your hand and guided it to his chest where you felt the steady rhythm of his heart quicken beneath your touch.

"I'm not asking you to change who you are— I know you can’t help but rush in headfirst. But being a bit more cautious wouldn’t hurt. What if next time you fall from a tree, hit your head, and end up with amnesia?"

"You’d take care of me until I remember?"

"Or I could use it as an excuse to finally be done with you for good."

"Yeah, no— don’t joke about that," he scoffed. "Like you'd actually leave me.. weren't you just talking my ear off about how much you love me?"

“You do know that if you die, you won’t see me again, right?”

“Well, damn, you have a point. I’ll just drag you into the afterlife with me.”

“How romantic,” you said, rolling your eyes as he leaned down to place a quick kiss on your cheek, his lips lingering as they moved to your ear.

“So romantic”

You laughed lightly, “Mhm,”

“Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?” he pulled back to look at you, his eyes gleaming with flecks of mischief. “Imagine it— we could haunt all the places we loved.”

“Yeah, right. I can see it now: ‘The haunting couple’ who bicker about everything,” you chortled.

"I guess you wouldn't need to worry about me dying," he joked.

He nodded, his expression turning more serious. “Agreed. I want to make more memories with you— happier ones, not ones where I’m falling out of trees.”

A warmth spreader through you at the sincerity in his eyes. “Let’s just make sure you stay in one piece, alright?” you said, leaning in closer.

“Deal,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Now, how about we make the most of this day together instead of talking about my impending doom?”

“That sounds like a plan,” you agreed, barely having a moment to process it before Wriothesley swept you off your feet, laughing at the squeal that escaped you.

Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he looked deep into your eyes, captivated by an irresistible pull that drew him closer. A tender smile blossomed on your lips as his lips finally met yours, your eyes gently closing as you surrendered to his affection. As the kiss deepened, the world around you seemed to fade away, time suspended in a perfect moment of intimacy. You were cocooned in a bubble of warmth, where only the two of you existed. His heartbeat pulsed steadily against your chest, resonating with your own.

With ease, he carried you over to the blanket spread out beneath the expansive sky and protective tree. The sun dipped lower behind the mountain peaks, seelie lights began to glow brighter as did the fireflies blurry beams.

As he set you down on the blanket, you looked up into his eyes and it sent a thrill through you.

“This,” he murmued against your lips, cheeks flushed and a hint of salive tracing his lower lip “is perfect.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the day’s worries lift as you nestled against him, the blanket enveloping you both. “It really is,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the magic of the moment.

"I love you.."

You leaned in, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Not as much as I love you"

All rights reserved | Copyright @readerforexiao 2024 do not copy, steal, or repost to any other platform

[l1ve-l4ugh-lov3craft]

Brainrotting About A Crimson Rivers Fan Film aaaaa

And because @almostafunctionaladult (hopefully that @'s you cos idk if it worked) and a grand total of four other people liked the post I made about it, I'm gonna barf all my current ideas here

Cos why not??

FULL disclaimer I laid away late into the night conjuring all of this up and when I tried to bother my sibling with all this madness it was only semi coherent so hopefully this will make sense lol Strap in.

TO START OFF! There is SO much content even just in the first arena between all the hell James and Regulus are going through, plus wolfstar's domestic romance thing they have, and all the politics and Sirius' pov in the Hallow during the games. And THEN, you have the whole entire hellscape that is the second half of the fic and the second arena and revolution and shit, so it would be EXTREMELY hard to make a single movie. The original source material couldn't even be made into one book, let alone one movie XD

Which is why I have been stewing and pondering and have decided! Do it miniseries style >:D With the VERY large and generous budget of my dreams, it would be two seasons each with 30-45 minute episodes. Season 1 is 6-12 episodes and covers the first arena as well as the aftermath and ends once James and Regulus are on their way home. Season 2 is definitely more like 12-15 episodes and covers everything that goes down in the last 30 chapters or so.

UNFORTUNATELY, I do not have that splendid or magnificent of a budget as I am just a uni student with delusions of grandeur lol

So I would pick a few fan favourite scenes from the book and make short films about those! Starting off strong with the scene when Regulus and James meet up in the arena the first time cos I ADORE that scene and I need to see it in film XD That one is ALSO very easy to do on a budget which is nice cos it's two actors (which I still need so if you're in the US of A and can make it to Idaho, hit me up whaaaattt who said that??) and a patch of trees I could reasonably pass off as a forest on camera.

Another essential would be the Bear Trap scene and I have SO many fun ideas for camerawork on that one to add to the stress and chaos >:D never lingering on one person for two long to keep up the frantic, panicked feeling in the scene. I'd ALSO love to have a shot of them all just walking and then somehow quickly foreshadow that the trap is coming just for a split second before it cuts to a wide shot of the forest treeline for James' scream as he Gets Got. Then cut right back to all of them and commence the scene. Regulus calling James 'baby' is, of course, a must have in the book-to-film adaptation partly cos it's a recurring theme and hurts a lot when Reg says it later on, and also I just like it :) I would LOVE to do the scene with the death eaters when they catch Regulus and James cos I think that one can be really fun with the expressions. And being able to put Regulus going apeshit on Mulciber for hurting James could be a super cool but to film

I want to do EVERYTHING with Evan cos I love him so much but this is getting long so I'll have to save that for another rant

OH! And how could I forget the BEATBOXING SCENE??? I feel like I'm legally required to film the bit where James is beatboxing in the arena cos it's PEAK comedy but also the right background music could really do wonders in emphasising the level of humanity James still has in him at that point and could make it just a little bit angsty :)

RAGHHH AND MY IDEAS FOR THE FINAL SCENE WHEN REGULUS COMES OUT OF THE RIVER AND THEY REACH FOR EACOTHER! Camera blur will be my BEST friend in that one, giving the illusion that the audience is kind of seeing it from James and Regulus' pov as they're losing lucidity. Maybe some brief hints of flachbacks to all the top Jegulus highlights of the arena in, like, a 'happiest memories' sort of way? But not set on that it might be too much I dunno yet. And then I want to have the very last shot be from Regulus' pov. Imagine with me: we can see his hand in the foreground as he's reaching for James but the camera is swaying and his vision is blurry. Distantly, Slughorn's voice announces the winners of the 84th annual hunger games are none other than James Potter and Regulus Black. James, who had just been staring for the longest time, looks to Regulus, and there could possibly be the slightest twitch in his hand as he reaches back for Regulus, but the moment Slughorn's voice fades, Regulus collapses completely and it cuts to black as he passes out. And that's the end of the film. Roll credits :D

That's all I got for now, and those are only my ideas for the FIRST arena but this was getting long so I gotta cut it here lol XD Anyway yeah hopefully this was semi-coherent and as cool on metaphorical paper as it is in my head lol Let me know what yall think!! And if you have any other ideas I'd LOVE to hear them!!

[togaki-kun]

“lay your head on me”

Domestic NanaGo = Best NanaGo 🥺

artist comm @petridumps

[the-paris-of-people]

The past couple days online have been... interesting. I consider myself a leftist, think capitalism is corrupt, and think that it needs to be seriously reformed/overthrown. I admit that while I've thrown around phrases and terms like "burn it all down" and "the revolution needs to come" out of frustration without actually thinking about what a revolution entails: excellent organization, unity, and strategy to defeat the United States, the world's largest military superpower which has inflicted political and social destabilization across the majority of countries around the world. There also needs to be superb infrastructure and community to support the disabled, elderly, and poor populations who rely on government assistance and programs, healthcare, and accommodations while this so-called revolution rages on.

All I've received from the far leftist movement are lectures from condescending intellectuals who rattle off academic citations regarding ideological theory rather than practical, tangible steps to advocate for change in our local and regional communities. I have not seen one of them actually discuss conversations they've had with their friends, family, or Americans about what they want to see reflected for the future of the country. I have not seen one of them discussed how destructive, detrimental and traumatic a Trump presidency was for social prejudice and morale in the United States. I understand that for many marginalized groups they've been living in a facist state for centuries so the possibility Project 2025 doesn't galvanize them to see the two parties differently, but I don't think it is fair to white leftists falsely equivocate the election of both parties for the entire American population at all??? Or like at least specify the issues you're referring to in which you view both parties as the same????? Literally one TikTok creator who I used to follow talked about how true leftists are so much better than liberals because they aren't waiting for a presidential candidate to save the world NOW due to the accelerated apocalypse due to climate change but when asked how to change the world they suggest sharing ideas of your future utopia with other leftist groups. How the fuck is sitting around talking about living in a walkable community is great considered "saving the world now"? How are you going to dismantle and restructure American infrastructure to create these communities? How are you going to remove existing racial and social tensions to create a community where everyone lives happily side by side? Do people not consider reality at all?????

And is it not wrong for people to have a fucking sliver of optimism and hope at incremental change that's achieved within the corrupt bipartisan system of American politics, even if they know it's propaganda??? Is it wrong for people to have a singular fucking moment of relief in feeling like their values, beliefs, and lives will be better protected and THEY can advocate for change better??? Is it wrong when there's a couple months until the most pressing election in recent history for people to make the choice they feel will reduce the most amount of harm???

[cptnghoulowl]

Hi guys I'm back!

That new episode was adorable and DEFINITELY not the calm before the storm huh?!

ANYWAY POLL TIME

Yes, I finally decided to add Miri's mom after thinking about it for WAY TOO LONG.

Kazuki will hopefully get more votes this time (rip) because he has proven that he's just. Malewife.

Last times poll, as of the time of posting, has still not ended, but Rei is pulling FAR FAR ahead with no signs of stopping. Y'all really like this man huh. I respect it, but like seriously. He's so. So.

Idk I wanna throw him, he's funny and traumatised and I laugh when he makes fun of Kazuki and I feel no attraction to him whatsoever. I just think he needs a warm hug.

(...maybe it's the ace in me talking idk)

[just-rogi]

.

[todayisafridaynight]

Who would be the better housewife? Mine or Daigo or Masato?

i mean. held-at-gunpoint-and-had-to-pick-one choice?? mine probably

[ambrosykim]

help i am so mentally ill about alexrosy that i have resorted to sending my fics to my mom😩😭😭

[meadowlarksabove]

.Lots and lots of work to do. So have these thoughts in the tags.

[jaythelay]

And R's are trying to say the Republican that Shot Donald Dump, the one shot and killed by SS, is a trans woman. Who's Alive.

Guys.

Guys I literally told you exactly this would happen.

They're trying to get people killed and ya'll clutchin pearls pretending to have empathy for someone entirely void of it.

Good lord. Vote Third Party.

[nappingpaperclip]

does anyone else feel like they’ve never been not stressed out??

like idk…I’ve been chronically stressed since I became conscious. I grew up in an incredibly stressful environment. ever since I moved out I’ve been stressed about school or work or housing or just finding food . There is always something. I’ve never had a break from stress that lasted longer than a day or two. does anyone else relate? what am I supposed to do about this

[mbat]

the thing is about having to give away a pet and not knowing where theyre going is that when you see pictures online of similar looking pets you take a pause and examine them to see if maybe theyre the same pet, but they never are, are they? but you hope everytime that they are

i dont actually know what i would do if i did see the pets i miss, though

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (Series Masterlist) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels (What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim-inspired); angst, drama, fluff, smut

Series Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Word count: 261.3k

Status: Complete

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You've dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Inspiration: Stay by Mikky Ekko

A/N: Hiii I am BAAACK! 🫡 This story is finally seeing the light of day after 3 years. I feel a little rusty, especially this being my first new JK series in 1.5 years! But it's also been a bit rough getting back into writing (and in Tumblr) after so long and after the year that was, so there won't be a schedule for chapter releases and I'll probably be a lot slower than usual. I wasn't sure if I was gonna go back to writing but I realized that I've missed interacting with you guys and screaming about stories so I do hope you give this some love. Fair warning that it's a really slow burn and some scenes are reminiscent of k-dramas. There are also sensitive and triggering topics so please proceed with caution!

And lastly, my biggest love and deepest gratitude to @wonwoonlight who's been the sweetest and loveliest person to talk to about everything, including this story. 🫶🏼 I give her credit for her amazing photos of Seoul (check moodboard) and for being the playlist manager. Please send her love as well!💕

Season 1 -> Playlist 🎶: on the way home

Episode 1 (wc: 12k)

Episode 2 (wc: 11.9k)

Episode 3 (wc: 14.8k)

Episode 4 (wc: 11.4k)

Episode 5 (wc: 14.8k)

Episode 6 (wc: 14.6k)

Episode 7 (wc: 15.4k)

Episode 8 (wc: 17.4k)

Episode 9 (wc: 18.4k)

Episode 10 (wc: 20.6k)

Episode 11 (wc: 23.5k)

Episode 12 (wc: 24.7k)

Episode 13 (wc: 29k)

Episode 14 - End (wc: 32.8k)

Season 2 (??)

[fettuccin-e]

Honey-Sweet

Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)

A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest

You’re too fucking sweet for him. That’s what he tells himself. Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do sweet.

You’re fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. You’re sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. You’d kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.

You’re too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling… it does things to him.

It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.

But, because he apparently can’t stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that “it’s too much, too much Miguel.” Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.

But you’re so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he can’t ruin you, he can’t. 

So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when you’re near him.

He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while you’re filing post-mission paperwork. And God, it’s beautiful. It’s fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if he’s died, gone to some heaven he doesn’t deserve. He’s determined to revel in the domesticity of this… thing he’s created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.

He doesn’t like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.

He’s content. He’s happy. For the first time in so fucking long, he’s happy. And he’ll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.

But.

As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like you’re starving for it. He can’t help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, you’re pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.

“Take me to bed, Miguel,” you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, he’s gone.

He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.

And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that you’re sweeter than goddamn pie. It’s in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you. 

But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that you’re not as sweet as he thinks you are.

Not at all.

Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, “God, can’t believe I’ve waited this long to have you like this. You’re so pretty, Miguel.” 

Pretty. Pretty? He can’t be the pretty one, no, not when you’re unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how you’re practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.

And you’re not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, you’re the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just can’t anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.

You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, there’s a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die. 

“Fuck my face, baby?” you rasp, and yes, that’s it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he can’t refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue. 

It’s not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears. 

He can’t hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, “You’re such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.” Your pussy throbs.

He isn’t soft, isn’t gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy. 

You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch. 

“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show. 

“Nononono,” you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.

Fuck, it’s like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, “It’s so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-“

“Nena,” he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, “gotta stop, ‘s gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-“ 

And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say “I fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.” And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they can’t decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it. 

“Fuck, wanna feel you all the time,” you murmur and Miguel can’t decide whether you’re actually talking to him or not. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, ‘m so fucking full,” you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of “fuck me, fuck me, please please please,” starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel can’t help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.

He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.

The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.

How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?

From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.

Fuck, there’s no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that he’s sure they’ll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.

You’re not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.

There isn’t an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when he’s in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke. 

When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he can’t help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.

You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, “Such a fucking slut, can’t get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?” 

And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, “I know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,” before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.

Miguel is positive that he’s died and gone to heaven.

It’s not to say that you’re not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, you’re the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.

You’re just the right kind of sweet for him.