#hydration fixed again

[velvetwyrme]

Hiii! How are you today wonderful person! First of all, I'd like to say that YOUR ART IS SO AMAZING AND PRETTY AND AGHSV I LOVE IT!!! And secondly, I know it's kinda late, but that comic you made is literally one of the funniest things I've ever read I love it so so sos so so much you have no idea I keep on rereading it.

Anyhoo, Thank you for existing! Keep yourself safe, stay hydrated and remember you're an amazing person with a lot of talent!!

Hello hello! I'm doing well, and I hope you are too!

Thank you so much for the kind message 🥺✨!!! I am absolutely delighted that you like the comic (and my art in general) :D!!

Making something that you reread over and over is such high praise... I'm so happy you enjoyed it so much!! It's so cool to see so many people enjoying the comic- thank you so so much for dropping an ask by to tell me directly <3333!!

I hope you have a fantastic [time of day] ;D!!! And thank YOU for existing! 💛

[gravitasmalfunction]

my controversial opinion is that the risk of discovery and consequences for a business that edits timesheet data should be greater than the consequences for the business for just admitting the scheduling error and paying the overtime that results.

[moonlit-orchid]

Normal people: vent about their feelings in a diary or blog post

Me: makes a whole ass zine at nearly midnight

[cheerfullycatholic]

Today was bad and it was mostly my doing 🥲 hopefully tomorrow is better, my nephew's getting baptized!

[inkykeiji]

hi! hope you’re having a good day!

ive been re-reading through your dabi fics and have been reminded of how i love the carnival worker dabi fanfic. like i don’t know why but im so fixated on him. it might just be bc i love carnivals and theme parks and the aesthetic of them is very nostalgic to me. like he’s just such a mystery, i love it.

im not sure if that fic is a one shot and whether it will be revisited or not, but just wanted to say that it’s one of my favs!

hi sweetpea!!! <33 AW HEHE THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS!!!! i’m so incredibly glad to hear that you enjoy carnival attendant dabi!! (´∀｀)♡ i had such a blast writing him because he’s really like,, happy-go-lucky? but he has this intense, deep, heavy air of melancholy to him, because he’s only happy-go-lucky due to the cocktail of drugs infusing his blood. he’s quietly tragic beneath it all, and his artificial easygoing nature hides something a lot more sad and sinister.

it was intended to be a oneshot, yes! i really like the way it ends and he’s kind of meant to feel like this enigma—like you got a taste of him and that’s it, he’s gone, never to be seen again. you’re meant to kind of feel sad once it’s over and miss him—or, at least, that was my intention and what i was trying to do with the piece!! <3 i don’t want to say for sure that i’ll never revisit his AU—because 1. never say never and 2. i really do love him, so it’s definitely a possibility, but it’s a slim possibility. either way, thank you so much for taking a moment to send me such a beautiful lil message and let me know your thoughts!!! it means so much to me, it truly does <3

[leafgorge]

fuck it

okay uhh

i guess i’ll do one of these?

100 notes: i’ll write more poems and finish my wip paintings

250 notes: i’ll try to fix my sleep schedule

500 notes: i’ll clean my shithole of a room

750 notes: i’ll tell my parents about how detrimental to my mental health they are and seek therapy and a diagnosis

1,000 notes: i’ll come out to my parents

good luck bitches

EDIT: since this is close to getting to 1k notes, i’m going to add a couple more goals :3 i’ll be updating soon on actually doing some of these that i’ve already hit

2,000 notes: i’ll try to actually start hydrating (impossible)

2,500 notes: i’ll pick up guitar again

3,000 notes: i’ll post some of my old works on here

4,000 notes: i’ll try to get prints of my artwork and sell them (get my work published!!)

5,000 notes: i’m going to actually make a plan on how to not buckle under the weight of my own expectations

7,500 notes: i’ll try to stop starving myself

10,000 notes (final boss): i’ll try to get gender-affirming care and maybe cut my hair short (this one probably isn’t going to happen)

edit: oh my god you people terrify me what

okay umm this post has actually genuinely helped with my mental health so uhh

[mithomite]

curtains

[twilghtkoo]

things that boyfriend!haechan does that you find weirdly hot . . .

BOYFRIEND!HAECHAN who ties your shoes for you. he’s very observant when it comes to you and will pause anywhere to tie your shoes. he’ll squat or get down on one knee and tie two little bunny ears and pat your shoe when he’s done.

BOYFRIEND!HAECHAN who zips up your jacket. you always complain in cold weather that it’s too cold and if he sees you with a zip up jacket and it’s open, he’ll tsk and softly scold you. “well i wonder why it’s cold hm?” then zips up your jacket and fixes your hair.

BOYFRIEND!HAECHAN who holds your hand before crossing the street. he knows your capable and has common sense to look both ways before crossing but as your boyfriend it’s his job to protect you. it’s also just out of instinct. his hand blindly reaches for yours and won’t let get til you both make it across the street.

BOYFRIEND!HAECHAN who hands you your water bottle randomly throughout the day and makes you drink it. your water bottle sometimes is always where you’re not at. it’ll be in the living room while you’re in your room at your desk for hours. and he takes the initiative to fill it up if it’s empty or half full. “here, drink please.” and when you do he always says “thank you pretty”. he wants you to stay hydrated !

BOYFRIEND!HAECHAN who always moves you by your waist or belt loops. he always finds a reason to be close to you or touch you somehow. if you’re in the store together he’ll come up behind you and loop his finger through your belt loop and lightly pull so he can see what you’re looking at or holding in your hands. “ooo yeah i like that flavor, can we get it?” “are you gonna finish it, last time you didn’t hyuck.” or if you’re in front of a drawer and there’s something in there that he needs, both his hands find its place on your waist. “excuse me baby, i need a spoon.”

BOYFRIEND!HAECHAN who opens your drink for you. again, he’s very observant when it comes to you. if he sees you struggling opening a soda, he comes to the rescue. “thank you hyuckie.” or he’ll grab a drink for you and always opens it before giving it to you. you also love to watch when he opens a can with one hand.

BOYFRIEND!HAECHAN who lifts your chin to make you look at him. you get shy and all cute (to him) about eye contact, especially with him. when he stares at you it’s with such intensity or emotion and it also has to do with it just being him. he’ll use a finger to lift your chin and sometimes he even uses his thumb too, his thumb softly caressing your chin. he just makes you so nervous and all jelly ! he’ll notice your eyes widen at his touch and frantically looking around anywhere but his face (yet you fail). he smirks, “cute.”

BOYFRIEND!HAECHAN who always opens the car door for you. not matter the occasion. romance is not dead! he will never forgive you if you open your door. and you have before (mans was upset). he wants to treat you like the princess you are! and you love him for it because it makes you feel special and you truly appreciate the kind gesture. if you make it to your door before him, you’ll patiently wait for him. ���good girl.” and lightly smacks your butt as you get in.

this was inspired by a tweet i saw on my tl and immediately thought of haechan. i never wrote a birthday drabble for him so this can be a very late yet needed one <3

[gothsuguru]

ARIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII I FUCKING LOVE YOU <333 also methinks this pic is very US <3

ARI 🥹🩷 I LOVE YOU LIKE YOU ACTUALLY HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH YOU MEAN 2 ME AND HOW MUCH I APPRECIATE ALL OF YOUR THOUGHTS/COMMENTS LIKE <333 sniffling……. sobbing……. smooching your brain pleek know that i am holding your hand rn <3 LIKE DOES ARINATION KNOW THAT I LOVE THEM SO MUCH??? THEY BETTER 🗣️🗣️🗣️ sniffling i adore you so much & omg thank you again for taking the time to write all of this i know it takes a while to do it so the fact that you even DID it makes me sniffle <3 love you adore you would die for you etc… SMOOCH <3 🩷💋

knuckle kisses are a favorite of mine they’re just so full of devotion so pure in a way … love how often they appeared in the fic and how soft they make him 🥺🥺

- A FELLOW KNUCKLE KISS LOVER 🤝 i agree wholeheartedly omfg it’s literally one of THEE most devoted acts someone can do it’s just SO intimate…….. makes me go insane <3 AND AHHHHHH i’m so glad you caught that! i really wanted to introduce a knuckle kiss in every section whether it be a quick one/one that is very intimate……. bc at the end of the day sugu is gonna be soft for it no matter what 🤭

I LOVEEEEE UR DESCRIPTIONS I LOVE UR IMAGERY (<- will be repeating this often i think BUT I MEAN IT OK) and ohhhhh my fucking god kairo….. one thing abt ur sugu is that he is a SAP and that’s canon to me. u Get him. HE’S SUCHHHH A ROMANTIC THE PROMISE RINGS W UR BIRTHSTONES????? ack i’m just . the way every single he does has a thought behind it… a sentiment….. he’s the sweetest ever :(((

- THANK YOU SM I WAS SO WORRIED ABT THAT SO YOU SAYING THAT YOU LIKED THEM 😮‍💨 WHEW THANK GOD. AGREED HE’S 1000000% A SENTIMENTALIST SAP <3 and soooooo FKN romantic like……… the aquamarine birthstone shook me at first i like ofc his birthstone is a bright blue gem (satosugu soulmatism) and YES intertwining his birthstone w reader’s is so <333 devotion on 100 <3

i truly do adore ur writing….. it blows my MIND that this is ur first real fic like u are so talented. it makes me sick to my stomach actually. i need to give u the nobel prize in literature these words of praise wont do …. 😞😞😞 AND AHEHWHDHHDHFHDHFHFH THE TONGUE PIERCINGGGGGGGG THE ARI/KAIRO HIVEMIND IS SO REAL i love. ur sugu. not just the mental descriptions but the physical too. like the piercings…. the tattoos…. sigh. he’s so sexy it makes me angry. and the way he gets shyyyy 🥺🥺🥺 he’s a baby . our baby

- NOBEL PRIZE OF LITERATURE NEEDS TO GO TO YOU FOR EVERY SINGLE FIC YOU’VE WRITTEN/WILL WRITE. i need you to know the gingko tree comparison in your kenny fic stays in my brain………. your words are soooo powerful they literally infiltrate my every thought i’m NAWT kidding. AND DJJDJDJDJDJD TONGUE PIERCING YOU KNOW I HAD TO DO IT I LOVE MY MEN TATTED/PIERCED/SCARRED UP 🤭🤝 sugu is so sexy it makes me need my inhaler………….

had to take a breather after this literally nothing gets me as weak as flower imagery + ribcage imagery and when they’re COMBINED?? i feel ill. i feel like a sheet of paper abt to be blown away into the sunset.

- I LOOOOOOOVE RIBCAGE IMAGERY AND I’M SO GLAD YOU LIKED THE FLOWER IMAGERY TOO!!!!!! daffodils……. sugu’s birth flower…….. sniffles <3 I ALSO FEEL LIKE A SHEET OF PAPER ABT TO BLOWN AWAY INTO THE SUNSET……. ari do you ever feel like……………… a plastic bag……. drifting thru the wind….. wanting 2 start again 😖😖😖

AND READER ;;;;; they’re so devoted i love the direction u took with them they rlly do feel like his knight in shining armor…. they’re both so smitten and protective and nurturing and it makes me soo :((( so emotional. i think sugu is the most devoted man alive so to be w someone who returns that treatment!!! …….. they could fix him idc

- THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY!!!!!!! YOU HAVE NO IDEA OMG 🥹🥰 i’m BEYOND ecstatic that you loved the direction of a devoted!reader bc i, in my heart of hearts, believe that suguru needs someone as devoted as him in his life + he needs someone he can tend to/have a silly lil s/o…….. like he LOVES being a nurturer <3 AND YESSSSS they’re both sooooo smitten & protective of another they make me insane. reader is so crazy watch them make him worse and he’s just like :3 love my baby <3

this genuinely made me melt into a puddle MY PRETTY LITTLE BABY… THE HEADPATS….. MY WEAKNESSES i started purring i won’t lie. humans can’t purr but i rlly did. aaaaa and the way reader just melts….. 🥺🥺 they’re the cutest little guy ever and sugu just loves babying them sm… they’re my everything……….

- PLEEK READER IS JUST A LITTLE GUY……… A LIL GOOBER……….. i’m such a SUCKER for any rendition of “my pretty little _” it itches my brain so good <3 & HE’S SUCH A HEAD PATTER he loves praising his s/o <3 AND YESSSSS YOU GET IT HE LOOOOOOVES BABYING THEM methinks it’s his favorite pastime <3

this is canon to me btw sugu 100% kisses just like this like he’s so intense in a way but also so soft?? def the type to kiss u until ur brain is all fuzzy and he has to cradle u so so softly or else u’ll just crumble into a pile of mush ….

- MHMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. INTENSE BUT SOFT. SOOOOOO HIMMMMMMMM. omfg don’t get me started………. i have an image in my brain where reader is in his lap and he’s cradling them while they’re kissing and it makes me crazy…….. reader’s brain is so hazy and suguru needs to hold them lest they Faint And Pass Out in the arms of a bad bitch…….. like how embarrassing would that be omfg </3

SO CUTEEEE i love how this fic is just BRIMMING w gifts!!!! things u get sugu, things he got u, things haibara and nanami got him, things u get satoru .. etc etc etc. there were so many mentions of things being given and it’s just so :((( this fic is just dripping w love and care …. it means sm to meee

- WEEEEEEE (imagine i’m on a swing and saying that) I’M SO GLAD YOU CAUGHT THAT!!!!!! i think they’re both suchhhhhhhh gift-givers that’s DEFFO one of their love languages! always getting e/o something whether it be big or small just to let the other person know they’re thinking of them! AND YESSSSSS the besties are no exception <3 hainana giving sugu a personalized gift and reader giving toru flowers/desserts 🥹🥹🥹 thank you for saying that the fic is dripping w love and care omfg that means the WORLD to me

ALSOOOOO THE TOJI CHARM PDHKFVFKFJF OH I KNOW HE WAS FUMING …… silly little man getting jealous over a hot anime guy…. reader only has eyes for u dummy !! (idk abt kairo though i think ur gonna have to fight toji for her attention sugu 😔😔😔 …)

- LMFAOOOOOOOOO LISTENNNNNNNNNNNN. i just KNOW sugu was real life doing this 😒😑 like who is that man……… HE IS DEFFO THE TYPE TO GET REAL LIFE JEALOUS OVER HOT ANIME GUYS like 😭😭😭 reader is real asf tho……. toji lover nation UNITE. suguru is such a HATER™️ to his core i love that abt him <3 OMFG………. i have a way where everyone can win…………. sugu & toji i got two hands………… do w that info what y’all will!

THEIR DYNAMIC IS SOOOOO FUCKING SWEET i firmly sincerely believe that sugu belongs with a silly reader . it just makes sense to me. he’s sooo smitten w them!!! ur his silly little goose !!! <33

- AGREED 1000000000000% I CAN TRUST YOU TO ALWAYS MF GET IT!!!!!!!! HE NEEEEEEDS A SILLY READER JUST A LOVABLE DUMBASS!!!!!!! HE’S MOROSEXUAL I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL!!!!!! YES HE LOVES HIS SILLY LITTLE GOOSE…….. HIS SILLY LITTLE BUNNY…….. sugu’s so smitten <3

my knees buckled THE . the grabbing ur face…. to get ur attention.,,.. CANONNNNNN IT’S SOOOO SUGU I DIED and don’t get me started on the sitting on his face. stupid silly man it wasn’t even his own joke smh ……….. i did melt into a puddle though u wrote him a lil too suave 😵‍💫

- GAGGED ME A BIT TOO LIKE OMFG if he ever grabbed my face………. nsfw moments would happen i fear. PLEASNDMDNSN he’s such a snake like why would you steal reader’s line like that omfg fake ass Bitch. AND DJJDJDJDJD THANK YEWWWWW he’s so suave when he wants to be <3

AAAAAAAAA THEY REALLY ARE JUST…. i adore their dynamic i doooooo READER IS SO SILLY i love the implication that they were just like . ”if u wanna kill me pls sit on my face king <333” they’re so real actually AND WAHHH SUGU BEING ALL GRUMPY 😭😭 he’s such a brat it’s TRUE and we don’t talk abt it enough….

- REAL ASF TOO LIKE. methinks they were on a late night drive and sugu parked somwhere dark & secluded so reader said “if you took me here to kill me… i’ll have you know sitting on my face would be much easier. much more preferred.” and sugu just choked on his cherry icee/slurpee while blushing and scolding them but also making out w them so hard in the car <3 then promptly sitting on reader’s face when they got back home <3 love them sm <3 YOU’RE SOOOOOOOOO FKN RIGHT he’s such a grump AND a BRAT and no one talks abt it like omfg he’s sooooo bratty and huffy and spoiled sometimes 😭

like i can visualize him so clearly and he’s so gorgeous it makes me feel sick it rlly isn’t fair 😞😞😞…. all the piercings…. save me kairo i’m abt to crumble……

- i’m sooooooo happy you liked that part :’) sugu w the hairpin… the piercings… the sweater… boyfie <3

AAAAAA THESE SMALL DETAILS ALWAYS GET ME he offers u the bigger half but u take the smaller one 🥺🥺🥺 i feel like just these two lines depict their dynamic so well. they’re always always looking out for each other :(((

- HEHEHEHEHEHEHE YOU CAUGHT THAT I KNEWWWWW YOU WOULD 🥹 i wanted to highlight them looking out for e/o in a small way and i figured one person giving the bigger half and the other choosing the smaller half was the best way hehehe <3

AND THIS 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔 kairo u understand him….. u Get it…….. i can’t not see him as a huge dork like that’s just what he is. he can act mysterious and suave and cool all he wants but we know the truth!! he’s a lil nerdy dork and it’s the most charming thing abt him <3333 reader’s love for him is also so palpable here …. they love all sides of him so dearly ☹️☹️☹️

- EXAAAAAAAACTLY at the core of suguru is a Dork……. Nerd…………. Goober. methinks he’s suchhhhhhh an astronomy nerd <3 he has so many facets and that’s one of em <3

SOOOOOOO FUCKING REAL THEY’RE SO ME i need sugu to scold me i think it would fix me entirely

- PLEASENDNDNDNND I HAD TO like…….. need suguru to scold me sooooooo badddddddddd idk why he can tell me off and i’d be MAJOR heart eyes <3

PHDIFJFJFJJD READER’S DIALOGUE GOT SO MANY GIGGLES OUT OF ME i support their maybe possibly a scam gift giving tendencies <333

- 😭😭😭 AND THEY’RE REAL TOO! i was looking up online that buying/naming stars is a scam sometimes & reader was just like damn…….. it’s the thought that counts who gives af <3 and they were RIGHT! sugu was HYPED regardless 🤭

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫K😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 KA 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 KAIR 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 KAIROOOOOO U CAN’T…… JUST CASUALLY MENTION THE NIP PIERCINGS………….,.,,, 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE I’M ALREADY ON THE FLOOR PLS LET ME BREATHE FOR A SECOND ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

- YOU KNOW I HAD TO DO ITTTTTTTTTTTTTTT like TRUST that sugu has nip piercings…….. a belly button piercing………. and a **** piercing <3

(also <33 ur descriptions <3333 yeah. need this man on top of me asap preferably suffocating me w his giant tiddies WHO SAID THAT)

- “need this man on top of me asap preferably suffocating me w giant tiddies WHO SAID THAT” I GHOSTWROTE THIS SENTENCE I SWEAR 😖🤝

☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️ this part fucked me uppppppp i can’t lie it hurts so luch to imagine sugu that way but it’s also such a real and important aspect of his character!!! and it shows reader’s devotion so so clearly. they’re there for him no matter what!! and he would do the same for them!!!

- AHHHHHH i appreciate you saying that it’s such a real/important aspect of his character bc that’s what was in my mind too!!!!! i think his depression is just so. integral to his character and it’s not pretty but that’s fine bc he’s HUMAN. & YESSSSSS!!!!! reader is always there for him and he’s always there for them!!!! they’re both devoted/care for the other sooooo deeply and vice versa

THE TEXTS W SATORU PSHFODJFJJFID THEY’RE SO REALLLLL personally i think any readers paired w sugu or toru HAVE to be besties w the other one like it just makes sense…. i love the friendship between all three of them in this !!! toru loves both reader and sugu sm and they love him right back <333

- HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE I LOVEDDDDDDD THE TEXTS 😭🩷 toru really is my bestie like he’s reader’s bestie he’s your bestie he’s sugu’s bestie he’s EVERYONE’S bestie everyone needs a satoru gojo in their lives <3 THANK YOUUUUUU their friendship is soooooo important to me they love each other so much :>

☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️i sniffled. he’s physically incapable of not being tender when he’s with them…. and the way he makes sure to let them know he loves them even in such a miserable state… the way he’s thinking of them and tending to them hhhhhh i love him sm 💔💔💔

- ^^^ HE IS SOOOOOO TENDER i think again it falls into his nurturing/paternal tendencies like he’ll look after them even if he’s in no state to! like sugu omg focus on yourself rn bae

I LOVED THIS SO MUCH reader is so so caring and devoted like they’re just overflowing w affection!!! just like sugu!!!! reading this made me so so happy aaaaa ….., all their favorites!!! :(((( sniffle sniffle they’re the cutest ever …. made me hungry too 💔

- HEHEHEHE THANK YOUUUUUUU THEY’RE A LOVER TO THEIR CORE 🗣️🗣️🗣️

just so vibrant so warm so sweet!!!! i literally saw it unfold in my brain anime style LMAO like the warm lighting!!! the tears!!! i’ve been watching too much haikyuu smh i pictured it just like an emotional hq scene….. just so gorgeous and tender

- OMG I’M TUCKING THIS COMMENT INSIDE MY HEART 😭😭😭 HAIKYUU!! STYLE OH I FUCKING LOVE YOUUUUUUU omg the warm lighting/tears/anime vibes that’s LITERALLY how i pictured it too like a literal hq! emotional scene 😭 sunset in the bg wind is flowing people are sobbing etc

READER IS SOOOOOOOOOOO DEVOTED IT ACHES this is exactly what sugu deserves!!!! and the vow… the oath….. u alr know how i feel abt those this made me a lil insane

- VOWS & OATHS MAKE US SOOOOOOO INSANE LIKE……. the DEPTH of their devotion…….. disgusting. i love it so much

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 KAIRO? STOP MENTIONING THESE THINGS IN PASSING DO U WANT ME TO DIE BE HONEST ohhhhhh he WOULD get ur name tattooed wouldnt he….. and i would simply fall to my knees and weep HE IS A SAP AND I LOVE HIM MORE THAN ANYTHING

- :3 HEHEHEHEHEHEHE he ABSOLUTELY WOULD. like he deffo tatted it from a time where you wrote your name in a bday card or something and he was like……… putting this behind my ear where it will reside near my temples forever and ever <3

LOVEEEEEE THIS DYNAMIC THIS IS HOW IT SHOULD BE gentle bf x manhandling gf…….. the only dynamic ever…………

- MHMMMMMM YOU GET IT 🗣️🗣️🗣️ my reader is so silly they just start turbowashing his hair w no regard for his life omfg…….. rip sugu’s hair follicles you WILL be missed 💔😩🫡😖

i think his relation to his family was strained at best and that’s definitely the case for almost every sorcerer born into a non-sorcerer family….. one of my personal hcs when it comes to sugu is that his lying personality formed when he was very young, because of his ability to see curses :(( i can just picture him telling his parents and being terrified only to have them scold him for it…. because who would take that kind of talk seriously? and that reaction resulting in him just kind of… shutting himself off from the the world. not really trusting anyone to understand him.

- oh you 1000000% get it and that’s how i personally see it too! i pictured his family life to be one where he got scolded for saying there were curses and then his parents got upset bc they thought he was lying/going crazy and making stuff up bc they couldn’t see what he was seeing….. and i HEAVILY agree i think over time he would just lie abt not seeing stuff! maybe his eyes are off to the side looking at his curse and his parents are saying “what’re you looking at?” suguru with a closed eyed smile: “nothing” :) i think that’s how he got thru his teenage years just lying. and then i also think it affected his mental health bc he probably thought he was overthinking stuff/going insane but in reality he was just a boy who saw things others couldn’t……. his backstory is sooooo clouded so i love just thinking abt him when he was younger and his home life. & i agree HEAVILY again on him not really trusting others/not feeling like anyone understands him

obv those r just my thoughts on canon sugu but i LOVE the way u depict his family and their dynamic here bc it’s literally exactly how i picture it too!!! not entirely loveless, but strained. suffocating. a cold kind of household where he can’t be himself :(( it just makes sm sense in my head u just described his feelings abt it so so well!!! i did in fact cry LMAO it resonated w me so deeply!!!

- thank you SO much that actually means the world to me! i think we both have SUCH similar views on suguru and his family life/backstory! yes - not entirely loveless but it’s…….. strained & suffocating & not really healthy lmao. like they’re family deep down they love each other but his parents just have a shitty way of showing it. and YEAH a cold household but on the outside they act super warm…….. </3 AWHHHHHHH ARI OMG here have a tissue i am holding you softly in my arms 🫂

my favorite flavor of conservative father is the one who’s so deep in the closet it’s turned into a casket like … ”he went through the same thing when he was his age”……. ohhhh dad i have some news for u……….

- HDJDJDJDBDJDHDHDHD listen since i’m a LOVER of hot mean dilfs ummmmmm i made his dad sexy and bi whether his dad knows it or not 😭 he’s like “we’ve all kissed boys 🙄🙄🙄” and suguru & his mom are just like ??? like mr. geto was fine asf back in the day in my brain and is STILL fine asf. just stupid and cold tho 😭

i picture his father as being very cold, very strict, very controlling, while his mother is loving but in a very conditional way. and her reaction here hurts the most because she isn’t lashing out, she’s just . acting like it didn’t even happen

- YOU GET HIS FATHER PERFECTLY!!!!!! deffo the strict dad, v cold & controlling & overly protective. and yes!!!!! his mom is like…… hmmmm how do i say it she’s kinda like someone who is an overt-babier? like she always thinks that suguru is her little baby boy and can’t do anything by himself so she has to hold his hand like soooooo suffocating and that makes suguru so. icked out he’s like i’m my own fucking man! makes him want to be the one in control of his own life no matter what! i think suguru has control issues also just putting that out there // and yeah i think that’s the part that hurt suguru the most is that she just acted like it never happened.

THIS IS THE PART WHERE I CRIEDDDDDD OK IT JUST GOT TO ME i am so weak for ….. found family……….. characters finding a home of their own after growing up in a broken one…..,., sugu finding all the comfort he needs in his beloved angel :(( a person that he chose himself!!! who loves him and makes him feel safe!!!! sighhhh they mean the world to me they do…..

- ARI MY BABYYYYYYYYYY I’M HUGGING YOU SO HARD RN AHHHHHH NOW I’M WEEPING 😭 YES!!!!!! CHOOSING YOUR PERSON!!!!! THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE!!!!

AAAAAAAA I ADORED THIS PART SO SM IT’S SO FUNNY AND SWEET 😭😭😭😭😭 sugu is just soooooooo angry and protective i love the idea that this particular comment got to him the most bc he can handle abuse towards himself but to his beloved?????? yeahhhhh no . papabear sugu coming out INSTANTLY. and reader just thinks it’s funny ohhhh their dynamic kairo 💔💔💔 my protector…. always………. i collapsed my head hit the concrete etc etc THEY PROTECT EACH OTHER SO EFFORTLESSLY SO FERVENTLY protective sugu just gets me so weak…..

- !!!!!!!!!! SUGURU IS 1000000000000% THE PARTNER WHO GETS PISSED IF SOMEONE SAYS SHIT TO/ABOUT HIS S/O! like shit talk him all you want he really doesn’t gaf but if you talk about his s/o? he’s hexing you and shouting at you and also plotting murder <3 reader is so funny they’re just like :3 hehehehehe :3 they don’t gafffffff 😭😭😭 PROTECTOR!SUGU ALSO GETS ME SO WEAK OMFG MY HUSBAND

READER IS THE REALEST AS ALWAYS sugu being jealous of ur favorite fictional character is still so real to me like he’s such a little loser ….. do we think he would put on the compression shirt + sweatpants combo just to get u to drool over him instead of toji yes or yes

- NDNDNDNDND HE IS THE TYPE TO GET REAL LIFE JEALOUS AND BE SUCH A HATER LIKE OMFG 😭 oh you already know he would……….. compression shirt + sweatpants combo and all reader says is “damn. toji wore it better.” and then suguru just tries to jump out of their window </3 THEY’RE BOTH STILL GONNA SMASH THO BC SUGU LOOKS SEXY AS HELL!

I LOVEEEEEEE UR SUGU SM I TRULY DO he just wants to fix anything that’s wrong … wants u to depend on him so badly …….. wants to make u happy always always always 💔💔💔 i can imagine him being soooo frustrated when u don’t allow him to help like i think that’s the one thing that he just can’t stand. he needs u to need him :((( needs to soothe u or else he spirals </3

- he’s sooooooooooo. insane. like he just ALWAYS needs to be in the know and i AGREE it frustrates him when you tell him not to worry abt smthn bc he’s a certified worrier™️ he needs his s/o to depend on him he needs to nurture him he needs to feel wanted/depended on i think that is such a core part of him 😭 he’s so paternal it’s almost disgusting how much he needs to be needed so i think it’s him toe-ing a fine line! he just always wants you to be happy and safe and protected that he does/says things that mayyyyyyyy be TOO much 😭 he’s self-aware and working on it tho which is good!

HE’S SOOO FATHERCODED SO MOTHERCODED just so nurturing to the point that maybe it’s a lil intense sometimes :((( and wahhhh u depicted his overthinking habits so so well…….. he’s trying so hard to be good for u!!! to be what u need!!!! :< and he’s doing so well but he can’t rlly see it…

- ^^^ you always get it like. YES. intense in his nurturing he’s SO fucking fathermother coded he’s suchhhhh a mother hen he’s such a protective dad he’s crazy. he really is his parents’ son sometimes 😭 but in a much better way than them like he’s trying so hard to be good just like you said! he just wants to keep you safe and happy and protected no matter the cost :(

i melted into a wholeee puddle one thing that always gets me weak is when sugu treats his reader like they’re fragile ….. it just gets me so soft AND HE’S SOOOO DEVOTED SO CARING IT MAKES ME WANNA CRY he just wants to make it better!!!! he has to make it better!!!!!!! :(( his overthinking is soooo clear here too….., he knows there’s a fine line between nurturing and condescending and he wants so badly not to cross it :(((( he’s just so naturally paternal like he truly is… motherly men my beloveds <3333 but it hurts to see him be so hard on himself !!

- MHMMMMMM HE DOES DO THAT!!!!!! he treats them like a baby/fawn like something to be nurtured…… protected…… and he just always wants to FIX things it’s in his nature i think he’s been like that since he was a teenager 😭 AND I’M SO GLAD YOU SAID HIS OVERTHINKING NATURE IS CLEAR OMG WHAT A RELIEF!!!!! not for him but for me that you noticed that <3 ^^^ motherly men oh yeah he’s deffo a mommy. a daddy. in both an insane way and a weird way idk suguru is kinda crazy in the head

SUGU AND HIS DADDY ISSUES MEAN THE WORLD TO MEEEEE this feels so canon too….. U AREN’T LIKE HIM AT ALLLL SUGU UR THE SWEETEST GUY IN THE WORLD :((((( sniffle…. he overthinks sm but he really is so wonderful…….

- SUGU AND HIS DADDDDDD they make me crazy…….. i imagined his dad to be such a hot mean dilf but also just someone who had outdated views on what it means to be “the man of the house” like it was definitely a patriarchal house! REAL! he tries so hard not to be like his father like that’s his worst nightmare omg 😭 you’re so much better than him sugubear i PROMISE you king

READER IS SO REAL FOR THIS i’m like that too 😭😭😭 AND KAIROOOOOOO HERE WE GO AGAIN I JUST CANT CATCH A BREAK IN THIS HOUSE SMH sugu w …. reading glasses ……… 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 i genuinely started breathing so heavily he’s so sexy it pains me

- I KNEWWWWWW YOU WOULD LOVE THE READING GLASSES OMG ME AND YOU ARE LIKE THIS 🤞🏼 him in glasses is sooooooo sexy it makes me clinically insane i need him sooooooooo bad it makes me look STUPID

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 this was just the sweetest thing.,. i KNOW it meant sm to sugu too like u just get him kairo….. he’s a sentimentalist!!! he WOULDDD cry i know he would it’s canon …. sugu is a crier to me i think he falters sm when he’s faced with a love that’s so tender and warm :(((

- HEHEHEHEHE THE BIGGEST SENTIMENTALIST!!!!!!! HE LOVES PERSONALIZED PRESENTS THE MOST IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!!!!!! he’s a creative so anytime someone gives him something that they created from their heart/soul he treasures it SO dearly that it melts his heart like it makes him SOOOOO emotional 🥺 agreed omg he’s really sensitive sometimes and definitely a crier when he’s overwhelmed w such tender emotions <3

KAIROOOOOO I GENUINELY MWLTED i know ive said that like 50 times so far BUT THIS TIME I RLLY RLLY MEAN IT like it was just…… attack after attack…….. hitting every single one of my weak spots…… this scene made me feel so SOFT i thought i was gonna turn into jelly :(( the soft beckoning !!!! the tears and coos and kisses !!! MY LOVE ……. MY SWEET GIRL ???????????? UR SO CRUEEEEELLLLL THAT’S MY GREATEST WEAKNESS MY BREATH HITCHED pls don’t get me started on my little dove….. pls dont ………. the fondness of it all .. i cried i need him so BAD it’s not funny anymore 😞😞😞😞😞

- AHHHHHHHHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH i was soooo worried it was TOOOOOOO much but also i needed to add every little pet name in there or else i would’ve died 😭 my sweet girl & my little dove…….. sugu would 1000000% call his s/o those things while softly beckoning them over <333 he’s a Real Loverboy <3 AND A COOER! loves to coo at his baby

AAANNNDDDD THE FINALEEEE WOW WOW WOW I CRIED this was the perfect way to end it….. the devotion and loyalty and love !!!!! KISSING UR RINGGGGGGG i knowwww he wants to marry u so bad it makes him look silly AND THE WORDS :((( i hope google translate didn’t butcher it lmao BUT AAAAAAAAA i’ll love you forever…………… hhhh. just encompasses their love so well :(( it’s just so steadfast and so soft . and the promise of marriage……. sigjhhh they’re just so SMITTEN it makes me so emotional!!!! i rlly do adore their dynamic to the moon and back 🥺🥺🥺

- THE ENDING WAS SO FAST BC I HAD NO IDEA HOW TO END IT OMG BUT THANK YOU SM 😭 i was also worried i wrote it mad confusing but i’m glad that you got the idea that i wanted to present which was that he wants to marry the reader <3 AND YES YOUR GOOGLE TRANSLATE WAS RIGHT! and finally suguru kisses HIS beloved’s knuckle <3 on their promise ring <3 sniffles omg these characters are so dear to me i finally understand what writers mean when they love their lil characters like i Get it now <3 AND THANK YOU ARI OMG I’M SO THANKFUL YOU ADORE THEM HEHEHE THEY ADORE YOU TOO <3 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

AAAAAAAAA KAIRO THIS WAS JUST SUCH A TREAT……. i rlly hope u can feel alllll the love i have for this fic and u and sugu from these reactions!!!!! so many parts of this made me feel so emotional and it was just written so so well and thoughtfully……. ur characterization and imagery and everything is just so perfect !!!! :(((( this is also one of the tastiest sugu depictions i’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing (<- is still thinking abt the nip piercings PHDKFJFJFJ) u just wrote him in such a lovely way that feels so canon to me!!!!!

- EVERY SINGLE WORD YOU WROTE ME IS TUCKED DEEP INTO MY SOUL LIKE I WILL BE GOING BACK TO THIS RB SO MANY TIMES JUST TO HAPPILY READ EVERYTHING YOU SAID OMG you just got everything/understood what i wanted to show/say so i appreciate you so much :3 AHHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!! i’ll do my best to do better in the future! :D i need to reach ari-level one day (unattainable but i’m fine w that bc you are in a league of your own and i’m eating every single word you write in your stories………. i’m sukuna and your stories are his fingers) chomp chomp chomp……. munch munch munch <3 (also you mentioned you got a wip of comparing sugu’s eyes to the milky way……… gonna need that snippet STAT pleek & thanks 🙏🏼) AND OMFG?????????????? YOU SAYING THIS IS THE TASTIEST DESC OF SUGU YOU’VE HAD THE PLEASURE OF SEEING IS THE HIGHEST FKN PRAISE I LOVE YOUUUUU 😭🩷😭🩷😭🩷 trust bestie………. i’m thinking of those nip piercings every single day……… every single night…….. <3 & 🥹🥹🥹 THANK YOU FOR SAYING THAT you saying i wrote him in a lovely way that feels canon is the best praise i can possibly receive :’) i love you so much ari omg thank you for taking the time out of your day for not only reading this but also WRITING all of this!!!!!! I APPRECIATE AND ADORE YOU SOOOO MUCH MWAH MWAH MWAH!

a treat for you………. look at his jawline. gagged.

black is the color of my true love’s hair

♡ your devotion to suguru is second to none - you would do anything for your beloved! bonded by true love, loyalty, & utter admiration, these are a few moments where suguru has been unbelievably thankful for you & smitten by your acts of love & service! (a story from my suguru geto: valentine’s day fic list!)

a/n: belated birthday fic for my beloved husband suguru geto <3 the title of the fic is based on a rendition of the song “black is the colour” by celtic woman! imo it’s the most loving & devotional song i’ve ever heard so i wanted to do a story based on those themes with my favorite black-haired man <3 MY true love <3 p.s. this is my first time ever writing an actual fic & it got a bit long because i got carried away so please bear w me! i hope you enjoy and happy valentine’s day! <3 MWAH!

- f!reader, no curses au, reader is short/blushes/has hair that can be ran through with fingers! slightly suggestive, cursing, mentions of depression/anxiety/self-destructive behaviors. but i promise this is a soft, fluffy fic! it’ll make sense when you read it! dividers are from @saradika! w.c: ~ 11.5k

it’s a simple action, really.

you tilt your head slightly to the right and lift your face up to gaze adoringly at him through your lashes, a mirthful twinkle dancing in your eyes. a soft smirk coupled with a light blush adorns your angelic features, a precious look, which suguru has come to be utterly enchanted by due to the loving action that follows immediately after.

you catch him off guard the first time you do it.

the first time you kiss suguru’s knuckles, he falters.

it’s the way that you do it. naturally & effortlessly, as if it’s like second nature, that causes suguru to stop in his tracks and dedicate all of his attention to you.

his mesmerizing gaze is directed at you, molten gold eyes inquisitive. irrevocably fond.

he attentively watches as you softly grab his large warm hand in your small cold one. his hands are slightly rough yet supple due to his religious use of the honey-almond handcream you bought him earlier in the week.

he notices, rather than intertwining your fingers with his own and holding them, you smoothly bring his hand up to your face, wrapping your digits loosely around the perimeter of his long slender fingers.

your thumb gingerly caresses his ring finger (the one that holds a devout vow of eternal love), your featherlight touch raising wonderful shivers across his body. with the utmost care, you delicately, as if he’s made out of precious china, brush your supple glossed lips against his fingers, relishing in the coolness of his promise ring that encases both his aquamarine birthstone & your own.

your low-lidded enamored eyes never leave his affectionately curious ones — both of you preciously holding the other ones gaze. eyes locked in a staring contest of love.

utterly content with his undivided attention, you gently press a soft kiss to his knuckles.

a sign of affection.

an act, a promise, of complete & utter devotion.

his pierced eyebrow raises slightly due to the suaveness of your actions. he tries to gather his bearings, his brain fuzzy with your actions — did you actually just do that?

suguru’s amber eyes widen significantly, soft black eyelashes fluttering like raven wings against the tan of his cheek that’s blushed with a hue of raspberry red. mouth slightly ajar in surprise, his silver lip ring glints like starlight in the sunset daze of the evening, while his pierced tongue is pressed against his own cheek to stop himself from becoming a bumbling, stuttering mess.

if he speaks — he wholeheartedly believes all that’ll tumble out of his lips will be unabashedly fervent divulgances of: “i love you. i love you. i love you.”

adoration blooms out of his ribcage like a meadow of daffodils, sweetness enveloping around his heart, soft ivory petals and sage green tendrils wrapping themselves delicately over his bones. he reckons that if you couldn’t hear his heartbeat hammering out of his chest before, you definitely can now.

it’s almost as if his brain is in clouds of cotton candy, his mind in a sweet haze of shock, love, & affection. he finds himself whispering airily, “why’d you do that?”

tenderly stroking away silky strands of ink-black hair that wisp around his ethereal face, the fond smile you grace him with is saccharine sweet, “i felt like it.”

unbelievably charmed, he can’t help the giggle that spills its way out through his mouth like honey, a syrupy-sweet sounding little thing. his shaky fingers cover his rosy lips slightly as he laughs bashfully. he’s a bit shy because of it, but you don’t think a sound has ever been so melodious to your ears. you’d get down on one knee to kiss his knuckles reverently as many times as he wants just to hear his laughter over and over and over again.

the way you see it, it’s as if you were put on this earth to devote yourself to him.

like a loyal knight kisses the ring on the hand of their king with the utmost veneration, you’d do the same. without question, worshipping the ground whereupon he stands like a faithful follower would do to a cult leader. you figure in all of the other multiverses, you’re ultimately doing the same thing as what you’re doing in this one: loving him — devoutly. earnestly. passionately.

if the look of ardent rapture on your face is anything to go by, suguru might faint with the rush of pure love & endearment that flows like nectar throughout his veins.

he feels his blush bloom over his warm face which rushes towards the tips of his pierced ears, a clear sign of you flustering him.

wanting to gain back some semblance of control of the situation, he puts on a poker face, a gentleness in his eyes & a fondness in his smile still shining through. his black-nail polished thumb grazes your soft wind-chilled cheek. a beacon of warmth. a caress of admiration accompanied with a well-maintained façade of smoothness. a comforting touch for the both of you.

“well, aren’t you just so sweet.” suguru can’t help the coo that escapes his cherry red lips when you look up at him with your precious doe eyes, “my pretty little baby.”

he softly pinches your cheek, admiring the soft plush. he cradles your cheek with the same hand, & carefully smoothes down your hair that’s been strewn around a bit by the evening wind with the other. suguru pats your head in a nurturing manner in the process, another fond coo escaping him when he sees you preen at the attention he gives you, affectionately watching you revel in the flattering treatment.

your eyes widen with joy, always keening with any praise he showers you with. “i’d like to think so! now come on sugu, your pretty little baby has a lil surprise for you!” you playfully wink at him, your smile beaming like sunshine.

your warm eyes map his stunning features reverently, memorizing his elegant visage. drinking in his otherworldly beauty. as if you could never get enough.

while you openly admire him, suguru does the same to you. he doesn’t think that he’s ever been this enamored by a human being before. you’re the center of his universe, and he can’t imagine his life without you. all he can see in this moment is: you. his intense gaze holds yours as he captures both of your cheeks in his warm gentle hands, enveloping himself in your space. the perfume he bought you for your birthday invades his senses, clouding his mind in a welcomed haze.

all he can think of at the moment is: you. you. you.

all he can repeat in his mind is: mine. mine. mine.

his eyes gleam with a newfound sense of desire, wanting to show you exactly what you mean to him. what you do to him.

his golden eyes that are now an onyx, dilated with desire, flit to your mouth. his thumb outlines your pretty lips that are begging to be devoured by his own. his right hand moves to cradle the back of your head, tilting your face up so he can comfortably take control. long, slender fingers splay across your hair, bringing you closer to him, slightly tugging the strands to hear and feel you gasp against his mouth. he presses his left hand against the small of your back, coaxing you further into his body, fusing you both together. not wanting to be even a millimeter apart. he just can’t get enough of you.

it’s like a magnetic gravitational pull when he presses a soft, sensual kiss against your glossy lips. the cold metal ball in his pierced tongue explores the wet cavern of your mouth, and he can’t help but moan softly into you, relishing in your warmth.

he prays to the stars above, hoping that he can convey his sincere love, desire, & admiration for you like this. he breathes life into you and you do the same to him. kissing you with such vigor & passion, he feels like melding your lips & souls together wouldn’t be enough. he burns with a hunger to become one with you. he pleads to the universe that the intensity of his desire and yearning is relayed to you — that you crave it, crave him as much as he craves you.

with the way he’s ravenously kissing you, and how you’re excitedly kissing him back, it seems like you certainly received the message.

suguru thinks it’s a little bit funny, but very much endearing, when you run around the living room like a bumbling fawn.

you zig-zag around the counter, making sure you pick up the purse that suguru got for you on your previous anniversary, an acrylic charm of your favorite anime character clinking against the metal fastenings. (another gift that suguru got you, begrudgingly he might admit, because who the hell is that toji fushiguro guy anyways…)

you double check that all the contents you need are inside: phone, charger, lip gloss, mini perfume, credit cards — AH! you run back to your room like a panther, not wanting to forget the most important thing you need for tonight!

he can’t help himself but laugh at your frazzled antics. “baby, you can calm down! we’re going on a picnic, it’s almost impossible for us to be late!” suguru admires your punctuality, he thinks it’s sweet how you never want to keep him waiting.

“FORGOT SOMETHING, I ALMOST DIED.” you rush back to him, big goofy smile on your face.

“baby… you’re heaving.” suguru covers his mouth, trying not to giggle out loud at how out of breath you are just by running a few feet. you’re so fucking cute.

“damn…” you huff out, hands on your knees, trying to get a deep breath in. “don’t call me out like that.”

he can’t help the laugh that bellows out of him, “sorry angel, now let’s go!” he places his large hands against your back, ushering you out the door quickly, “you still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

walking you towards his black mercedes, he opens the passenger side for you. with both hands on your hips, you remind him that, “it’s a SURPISE!”

after around 45 minutes of both of you jamming out to your playlist in the car, poking his cheek while childishly asking “are we there yet?” just to annoy him for fun, and ultimately being a proper passenger princess who tells him to “just trust me!” when he asks where you two are going, you both arrive to your destination.

and the sight that he sees, enthralls him. he whistles, beguiled by the view. from here, he can see how pretty and bright the stars are, it almost looks like they’re twinkling a “hello!” at the both of you. suguru thinks to himself, a picnic here at night? he’s unbelievably mesmerized at how your brain works sometimes.

he turns to face you, watching how engrossed you are in your phone, tapping away incessantly. wanting your full attention, his fingers grab your chin gently to force you to look him. he jokingly purrs, “if you took me here to kill me, i’ll have you know… sitting on my face would be much easier. much more preferred.”

you raise your eyebrow questioningly.

“because… it’s dark and we’re in random clearing.”

you stare at him blankly. “okay, you’ve hung out with me waaaay too much because i literally said that pick-up line to you last week and now you’re blatantly stealing it… like a THIEF. and also? you drove us here. who the hell is gonna drive me back if you’re dead?”

his brows furrow and he pouts, annoyed that you didn’t fall into his arms and blush because of his (your) raunchy words. he turns away from you and opens his door to leave, brattily huffing out a, “hmph. shut up, dumbass.” with his head held up high in the air, he struts away pompously to the trunk, opening and closing it loudly. a picnic basket with food you both made together in one hand, and a soft quilt of constellations made by haibara & nanami for suguru’s previous birthday in the other.

how fitting.

you loudly snicker to yourself while getting out of the car, amused by your boyfriend’s spoiled antics. while suguru is front of you admiring the view and trying to find a spot to set up, you admire the view in front of you. whistling out a, “damn…” suguru scoffs at your flirty behavior and gives you the finger. you send an air kiss back, and he playfully swats it away.

when he turns away again, you smile to yourself dreamily. taking out your phone, you click a quick candid of him against the night sky, admiring at how he looks like a painting.

the cream of his sweater and the contrast of his cascading ink-black hair entrances you, the silver hairpin you got him during a couple’s trip to kyoto in the top of his bun. the dangling deep violet amethyst gem glints in the moonlight, making him look even prettier. he turns his head to the left, from here you can’t see his eyebrow piercing or his lip piercing since they’re both on the right side of his face, but you do see his eyebrow slit — a scar which you’ve softly traced over many times. his side profile allures you effortlessly, the angular bridge of his nose and the soft cupid’s bow of his lip offering up a beautiful contrast that is suguru: graceful yet strong.

shaking your head slightly, you break out of your trance.

you go back to the task at hand, opening your notes app and ticking off the word at the top of your list.

stargazing. ��️

you remember suguru mentioned it in passing one day when you were both in the beginning stages of your relationship. it was on his date bucket-list ever since he could remember, and of course you wanted to be the one who would take him!

you guide him over to a little meadow overlooking the city. surrounding you both are beautiful moonflowers, their sweetness enveloping your sinuses. the air is cool and crisp, and in the distance you hear the faint chirps & buzzing of hummingbirds along with the faint caws of ravens. you’re proud of yourself that you were able to find a place this picturesque. (even to this day, you still have an urge to impress suguru in any way that you can.)

both of you sit on the quilt suguru sets down, the homemade cloth providing an extra layer of cushioning that you feel atop the softness of the grass.

you’re upon the hill clearing, close enough to the city that you can comfortably drive back while still seeing a few citylights from where you are, but far away enough that the light pollution wouldn’t interfere with the date you had planned.

“it’s pretty.” suguru glances at the view, praising you while taking out the tonkatsu sandwiches, pasta salad, & chocolate covered strawberries from your picnic wicker-basket. you pick up a bag of chips and start munching on it while he lays down on his back propped up on his elbows, opening up a banana milk to sip on.

“i’m glad you like it,” your words are muffled in between loud crunches and fast chewing, “i was worried we’d be attacked by a mountain lion or a swarm of bees or some shit.” you say honestly.

he blinks. “i wasn’t worried about that. but i am now.” he takes another sip of his banana milk in case it’s his last.

he sits up and picks up the tonkatsu sandwich, handing you the bigger half. “but seriously, how’d you find this place?”

you take the smaller half from his grasp instead, switching with him. taking a bite, you hum happily. suguru is such a good cook. he smiles at you fondly and you answer him, “i was searching up good places to look at the stars. out of all the pictures and reviews, this was the prettiest one.”

you look up at him and swear that you see an actual twinkle in his eyes.

“stargazing?” he pushes his bangs back behind his ear, leaning into your face. loudly repeating, “STARGAZING???” nose pressed against yours, an excitedly manic look in his eyes.

he throws his head back and waves his arms in the air, lamenting, “i should’ve bought a fucking telescope!”

he directs his gaze back towards you, pointing his finger at you accusingly while demanding, “we are coming here again in the future, okay? i’ll bring all of my astronomy gear: a telescope, binoculars, a constellation book, and oooooh! maybe i’ll also bring…” you unintentionally tune him out, looking at him adoringly with stars in your eyes.

this is what you wanted to see.

if you’re being honest with yourself, the best thing to experience in your life is getting to see suguru act genuinely excited. his eagerness to discover new things is infectious, and the man before you is the real suguru: dorky, eclectic, passionate.

the graceful, poised, & elegant man you see when he meets new people and the air of sultriness & suaveness he has when he takes you on fancy dates are utterly enchanting & beguiling, but you think that suguru you see before you now — the excitable nerd, is the most beautiful.

he flicks your forehead, breaking you out of your reverie. “have you been listening to a word i’ve been saying?” he scolds you while pinching your cheek extra hard.

“yeah, you want a telescope so you can look at the stars. also, you look really pretty… the stars ain’t got nothin’ on you.” you rest your chin in your hand, smirking at him, reveling in the blush that paints his cheeks. it was just the cold wind!, he’d tell you later while playfully smacking you upside the head.

you continue, “plus, it’s really hot when you’re all stern and tellin’ me off. what’s my incentive to listen to every word you say if i can get you scoldin’ me instead?” you tilt your head against your hand, grin wide, teeth bared. the masochist in you wants him to scold you even further.

he crosses his arms at you, muscles bulging out of his cream cableknit sweater. your eyes drink up the adonis right in front of you, mentally undressing him. “instead of hitting on me, how about i explain all of the constellations to you in extreme detail?” he purrs to you while biting his lip. he flips his hair over his shoulder, sultrily looking at you. you see right through him of course, knowing that he’s appeasing to your attraction to him just so he can ramble about ursa major, ursa minor, & the big dipper.

frankly. it works.

he holds his hand out to you. a truce.

you shrug. “if you do it like a hot stern professor, then sure.” you both shake on it.

he rolls his eyes playfully, trying to stop the smile that threatens to creep up on his face. “ugh. fine. be quiet and come over here.” he picks you up underneath your thighs and puts you in between his legs. your back pressed against his warm, sturdy chest. he kisses you on the head, appreciative of your indulgence of him.

you giggle cutely and move yourself down, laying your head in his lap while he softly plays with your hair. his lovesick gaze, fond smile, & warm thighs envelope your body, filling your senses with suguru. he leans down and presses a soft kiss against your forehead, an addicting contrast of his cold lip ring & warm soft lips electrifying your skin.

he pops a single chocolate-covered strawberry in your mouth, and you playfully nip his finger. he traces your lips softly and starts playfully lecturing you about the constellations that grace the night sky.

he excitedly points at a cluster of three bright stars, “and that is orion’s belt!”

you point at a bright star in the night sky a few lightyears away from it, grin unbelievably wide.

“i think you might be missing one, babe. and you call yourself the modern-day galileo. heh.” you playfully tease him.

suguru rolls his eyes, “okay first of all, i have never called myself that. second of all — excuse me?” his scoff is slightly haughty, & he can’t help the indignant laugh that escapes out of him. “alright, since you know so much — enlighten me then, what’s that one called?”

“hmm… i believe it’s sugurugeto-020390.”

suguru’s eyes widen ridiculously like flying saucers.

“what?”

you push yourself out of his grasp to pull out a certificate from your purse and hand it to him. you sit next to him cross-legged, gauging his reaction.

“trust me, i wish i could get a better name for it, but it turns out there’s a lot of suguru geto’s in the world.”

pausing for a moment, you want to make sure that your boyfriend knows that he’s the only suguru geto on your mind.

giving him bedroom eyes, you purr, “none like you of course.”

he blinks. “what?”

your face falls comically, and you pout, “that bright star in the sky is yours.” you point at it haphazardly. “you’re the light of my life, you illuminate my life, you’re the sole star and center of my universe, blah blah blah… so i figured… ya know…!” you gesticulate wildly, and in the moonlight suguru can see the slight blush on your cheeks. your eyes looking everywhere else but his own.

you’re shy.

he can feel the sinus pressure building up against his nose and the tears glaze over his eyes.

you scratch the back of your head, trying to save face. you quickly backtrack, “i know it’s a bit cheesy and honestly, technically, this was probably a scam, but i figured it was the thought that counts and–”

“shut up.”

you look up at him in a state of shock, “HAH???”

he grabs your cheeks, his silver rings cool against your face, and smashes his lips against your own, teeth slightly knocking against yours. in his excitement, he pushes you down and straddles you, pinning you down to the grass — his body a comforting weight on top of you. he kisses you breathlessly, moaning loudly in your mouth. you can both taste the fruitiness of the strawberry on each others tongues, your own being pressed softly against his piercing. you pull away softly, needing to take a breath.

and the sight above you is one you don’t think you’ll ever want to forget.

suguru’s seductive low-lidded gaze is locked on you, parts of his bangs wisped across his face from the momentum of pouncing on you. he’s breathing heavily, and you can feel his rapid heartbeat hammering against yours, his nipple piercings slightly poking into your chest. a rosy blush spreads itself on his cheeks like a strawberry jam, and you don’t think any view could compare to the one you’re blessed to see now.

his lips are red and glossy, aching to kiss you again. you nod softly, begging him to continue. he slots his lips back with your own, tracing your bottom lip with his tongue before he bites down sensually, groaning loudly when he hears you whimper. he curls an arm underneath your body while kissing you passionately, bringing you closer to him, enveloping you into his space. all you can think about in this moment is: suguru. suguru. suguru.

pulling away once more, and peering deep into his amber orbs, you think that his eyes carry the most beautiful stars. a milky way of ochre and obsidian.

never casting your fond gaze aside, you intertwine your hand with his, bringing it to your lips, kissing each knuckle fervently.

his alluring gaze follows your devoted actions. butterflies brush their wings together inside his stomach, the flutter erupting throughout his whole entire being. he thinks that in the moonlight, underneath the canopy of stars that…

you are the most brightest.

the most beautiful.

the most meaningful.

“honey! i’m hoooooooome!”

you feel unbelievably ecstatic that you can finally get to see your dear boyfriend after two weeks of being apart!

you already have the whole day planned out, perhaps you two can get takeout from your favorite local restaurant and watch anime together! you giggle happily to yourself while thinking about how you both can snuggle and have a cozy day in.

you take your shoes, coat, & purse off by yourself, wondering if suguru is out. usually by the time you’re at the door, suguru is already there welcoming you back with a massive kiss and a “missed you baby.” softly whispered in your ear, especially if you go on a long trip…

hmm, that’s a bit odd.

now that you’re looking around…

the apartment is in complete disarray.

it looks like a tornado blew through the whole place.

you shuffle in further… and dirty dishes are piled in the sink, overflowing dangerously. suguru’s clothes, random knick knacks, and pillows are strewn about as if he threw them all in a fit of rage. crumbs litter the carpet and you see what looks to be dirt tracks on the floorboards. the laundry is stacked high and the air is stuffy, it seems like no windows were opened in the time that you were away.

worriedly, you run into your shared bedroom.

suguru is there, thank god safe & sound, but what you see breaks your heart.

he’s laid face down, the left side of his cheek smooshed into the pillow, black tear tracks staining the fabric… he must’ve cried on a day when he went out? the bedroom is filled with dirty clothes on the floor, and you’re pained to smell the stench of cigarettes in the air. it’s light… maybe he only smoked one… but the fact that he felt the need to smoke at all, shattered your soul.

especially considering he quit ages ago when he started dating you.

you walk towards him lightly, not wanting to scare him off. his eyes are open and he looks at you… but he’s not really looking at you.

“you alright there, precious?” you softly whisper.

a perfunctory question. you know he’s not. he knows he’s not. but you know he’s in no state to answer any questions that you have.

“mhm.” he hums quietly. lethargic, not even having the willpower to answer with anything but a light rasp.

you brush back his bangs, and he shudders. his hair is greasy, oil-black hair clumping together in some places, matted in others. his lips are slightly chapped, a bit bloodied no doubt from his habit of biting his lip when he’s anxious. his fingernails are no stranger to the same action, stubbed and jagged down to the nailbed, his black nail polish chipped. bright amber eyes which often have a gentle look in them have turned into a dull ochre, obsidian pupils overtaking his irises.

they’re still gentle because he’s looking at you… but if you’re being honest with yourself, his eyes remind you a bit of a black hole right now.

vacant of light.

you press a soft kiss against his forehead and leave the room momentarily, thinking to yourself if anything can be done about this situation.

you decide to shoot satoru a quick text, seeing if he can help you out a bit with what you want to do.

you breathe out a sigh of relief, a small smile gracing your face. you can always count on satoru. the man may be silly and eclectic, but at the core of his being, he’s someone who will always take care of and look out for his friends. he’s the type of person to drop anything to help those that he loves and adores.

(sometimes you think that satoru really was an angel put onto earth.) (but then you think that he was probably cast out of heaven for being a little shit.) (regardless, you still fucking love him for it.)

you walk back into the room, and lay your head against your pillow that is next to suguru’s. (it smells like him… he must’ve hugged it while you were away.)

cradling his cheek, you quietly say, “satoru’s also back from his business trip babe, he’ll be coming in about 10 minutes. how about you get a bit of sunshine with him, hmm?” he blinks slowly, nodding softly.

you hold his hand to help him up out from the bed, but he shoos you away, admonishing you slightly, “i can do it myself.”

you nod and leave him to it, mentally preparing yourself for the behemoth cleaning task ahead when he leaves.

suguru pads slowly into the bathroom and puts his hair up in a high ponytail with a hairtie he stole from you, not wanting to deal with it. he washes his face and gets a wet rag to pat down his body and underarms, not having the energy to shower. putting on a random black sweatshirt, he douses himself in your favorite cologne of his. he puts on your strawberry lip balm while popping a piece of mint gum in his mouth. with a tired sigh, he exits the bathroom, dragging his feet to where you are at the door.

he kisses your temple gently. you plant a soft kiss his against knuckles. you think your eyes deceive you see a semblance of a twinkle in his eyes. “love you baby. i’ll bring you back somethin’.” he rasps out softly.

even in his darkest times, even when his mind is playing tricks on him, he’s still thinking of you. wanting to take care of you. desiring to show his affections towards you in any way that he can.

you simply want to return the favor.

satoru arrives, wearing a crisp white button up and black tinted glasses, his snowy white hair shining like starlight thanks to the sunbeams that hit him. he hugs suguru gently, placing a soft kiss against his temples. suguru, dressed in all black just nods his head lightly at him. he’s not really interested in going out but knows that you two will force him regardless, reminding him that getting sunshine and looking at different scenery is important.

as they get into the car and back out of the driveway, suguru waves lightly at you, eyes tired yet gentle. satoru winks at you, proud & thankful that suguru has someone that cares so deeply for his mental, emotional, and physical wellbeing.

waving them both a goodbye, you go back inside and put on your cleaning playlist, ready to get started.

the first thing you do is open up the blinds and windows, wanting to air out the stuffiness that had built up over the past two weeks. considering the fact that suguru got a tinge paler and his undereyes looked sunken, you don’t think he got even a single beam of sunshine or any semblance of fresh air in the time that you were away.

padding over to the kitchen, you begin by doing the dishes. wearing your matching baby blue dishgloves, you get to work. it seems like suguru got anxious by seeing all the dishes piled up and started using some paper plates, which would explain the overflowing trash as well. the dishes are caked with food, but soften a bit by dousing them in water along with spritzing a powerwash grease-lifting spray. you sigh happily, glad that this will make it easier. after washing, drying, and putting away the dishes, you turn your attention to the kitchen surfaces.

you wipe down the counter and dining table in circular motions with a lemon-verbena spray, disposing of any old particles of food and random dust that lay upon the surfaces. already in your cleaning mode, you start to feel a little bit more energized.

opening up the refrigerator, you see that it’s been practically untouched. unfortunately, you gag when you smell rotting veggies and fruits, promptly rushing to your kitchen cabinet to get your trash bag to toss any old food away. you mentally remind yourself to get groceries in the morning, maybe if suguru is feeling a bit better after today you both can go together!

walking into the living room, you get your cleaning towel to beat the dust out of all the furniture. usually you & suguru both start with the bedrooms, but this time you figure you’d start with the living room as it’s in a bit of a better shape than the bedroom.

after you finish beating the living hell out of your cushions, you get to swiffering, mopping, and vacuuming — humming and singing loudly to suguru’s favorite songs on your shared cleaning playlist.

you go into the bedroom and start by gathering all of the clothes on the floor and the ones in the hamper to put inside the washing machine. you look around and do the same with the bedsheets and pillow cases, rubbing the eyeliner out of suguru’s pillowcase with some makeup remover first.

cleaning out all of the drawers, you make sure to throw away any random trash and only keep what’s necessary. clutter bothers both you and suguru, so you do your best to try and minimize that. you pick up empty bottles off the nightstand and throw them away. at least he drank a bit of water.

turning your attention to your bookcase, you wipe down the multitude of pictures of you & suguru that he put in frames.

there’s a few of both of you smiling after going on cute dates — suguru’s grin unbelievably wide while flipping off the camera and holding you close to his chest as you laugh loudly. there’s ones of you gazing at him adoringly, your love for him seeping out of the picture. there’s others of him looking at you — a soft fondness in his eyes, an even softer smile gracing his lips, his affectionate gaze tuning out anyone and anything else that isn’t you. both framed and pinned to the wall are multiple candids you two took of one another when the other wasn’t looking or paying attention, bursts of love immortalized in random moments of time.

you tell yourself that the sniffle you do is just because of the dust.

clearing your throat slightly, you look around proudly. you’re done!

you spray each room with a cotton spray, inhaling the fresh linen scent happily. you light up a teakwood candle that suguru bought a few weeks ago in the living room and put a sandalwood diffuser in the bathroom, freshening up the place. you take a well-deserved shower, feeling properly clean and accomplished.

by the time you’re done, it’s around 5:30 P.M in the evening and satoru texts you that they’re on their way and will be back home in approximately 30 minutes.

you get a can of sprite, his preferred soda, out from the fridge and put it on the counter. you decide to place an order for takeout from suguru’s favorite local spot, one that sells cold zaru soba noodles, his favorite food. you place another order at his favorite bakery for matcha crepes, his most loved dessert. the zaru soba will come within an hour and a half, but the dessert will come sooner so you also order a flower delivery too — a cute little surprise which will come within the same amount of time as the crepes.

you figure that you’ll also do the same for satoru, a little thank-you present for when he comes back to his own apartment. you order a bouquet of narcissus & holly for him, internally hoping that he likes it. you also order all of his favorite desserts from his favorite bakery! knowing that he will happily fill himself up on raspberry macarons, strawberry cake, vanilla mochi, chocolate donuts, & zunda cream kikufuku to his heart’s desire.

walking back into the bathroom, you get the most important part of your night started.

suguru finds his heart a bit lighter when he comes back to your shared home. he didn’t want to admit it to satoru… but he actually had a fun time eating, shopping, and listening to his hilarious stories about his shitty business trip. he’d be lying though if he said that he wasn’t most excited to see you after a long, eventful day.

in his hand are a bunch of shopping bags from stores that satoru dragged him to — clothes from your favorite stores, accessories & bags that you most wear, shoes that you need, books & knick knacks that you like — all for you. he bought a few for himself of course, but he mainly wanted to spoil you. he can’t help the small smile that creeps up on his face when he thinks about how excited you’ll be to see the gifts he got you.

thinking back on it, the guilt and shame he felt in his heart when you first saw him earlier today ate him up. he didn’t even know why he was feeling the way he was feeling so strongly. it was coincidence that it coincided with your trip, and he made sure that he would sound fun and happy over text as to not worry you. it wasn’t until a few days from when you were actually set to arrive that he didn’t even have the energy to talk or text you.

hell, he didn’t even have the energy to keep the apartment tidy or keep himself in check either. another pang of guilt hits him like a freight truck. he concludes that he’ll give you a spa day so he can clean everything up, not wanting you to worry about the mess he made.

he knows from the bottom of his heart that you’d never judge him or make him feel small for feeling the way he felt, he just feels so bad that he couldn’t even muster up the energy to greet you the way you deserved to be greeted. to kiss you. to hug you. to have a delicious dinner together and snuggle with you.

but no. after a long trip you had to come home and be worried for him. have the apartment be in disarray, have to see him be in disarray. fuck, you were worried enough to call up satoru.

he swears to himself that he’s gonna make it up to you. he swears that–

oh?

what?

suguru’s eyes widen, hands weakly dropping his shopping bags on the floor.

the entire apartment, top to bottom, is spotless.

dishes done and put away. dining table clean. living room tidy. is that… a bouquet of daffodils, his birth flower, on the counter? he also sees the bag from his favorite bakery right next to it too…

he walks around, astonished, at how you’ve made the apartment look brand new.

he reaches the bedroom and sees that the bed is made. his clothes have been clean, dried, and put up in hangers inside his closet. the nightstand, dresser, and bookcase all spotless and wiped free of dust.

a fresh smell envelopes his sinuses. he swallows the lump in his throat. did you smell the single cigarette he smoked? it seems like you aired out the whole apartment. in front of him is a beautiful sunset that waves at him from outside. a sunray beam kisses his cheeks. suguru blinks and feels something wet trailing down his face… it tastes salty on his lips. but feels so warm and sweet.

“suguru?” your angelic voice calls to him.

he turns around and sees you. fresh and clean, a beacon of warmth and illumination. a light blush dusting your cheeks no doubt from all of the hard work you’ve done.

“i ran you a bath. you up for it?” you tilt your head cutely at him, a silent plea in your eyes for him to agree.

feeling like his voice will betray him if he speaks, he nods softly. grabbing his hand, you take him to your shared bathroom, also totally spotless. your hands are soft and small in his, warm for once, because of you taking a hot shower and checking the temperature of the water for suguru’s bath. a sandalwood scent envelopes his nose, no doubt from the diffuser you put inside. he sees the romantic candles and rose petals around the bathtub and he can’t help the smile that overtakes his face.

“for me?” he rasps, a teasing tilt to his voice.

“always. everything and anything i do will always be for you.” you say it seriously. genuinely.

to you, it’s a vow. an oath.

his eyes widen slightly, but he closes them momentarily, not wanting any more tears to spill. he crinkles his eyes and smiles at you softly.

“you joining me?” he undresses, taking off his sweatshirt and t-shirt. showcasing his tan skin, toned abs, & muscles. his nipple piercings & belly button piercing are on full display and he giggles lightly as you ogle at his body, watching your eyes trace his numerous tattoos & piercings, absolutely mesmerized.

“maybe next time,” you smirk, a playful twinkle in your eyes. “figured i could do a little pamper session, is that alright with you?” you ask him caringly, wanting to make sure that he’s comfortable with it first & foremost.

he fears that if he speaks any louder than a whisper, the love that overcomes him will drown his airways. he rasps out a small, “yeah.”

always. anything and everything you do will always be right for me.

he gets into the bath and you try to not let your eyes trail down, instead focusing your gaze on his dragon tattoo that encompasses his entire back along with the mythological japanese creatures that trail up his arms and ribcage like tapestry. you see one of your favorites, a black and white beta fish upon his ribs, submerged underneath the water he’s in.

from this angle, you can also see your name that he tattooed behind his ear. smiling to yourself, you sit behind him, ready to begin the pamper session.

his sloshes the rose petals around with his fingers. the water is warm, is his first thought. i wish you were in here with me, is his second.

your fingers stroke his hair softly, lulling him into a false sense of security, and then you get to work, vigorously rubbing in his lavender shampoo. he can’t help the laugh that escapes him. for some reason anytime you two would take baths or take showers together, you would always wash his scalp aggressively. “this is how i wash my hair sugu! what’s a little run through gonna do? we gotta keep clean!” did clean mean damn near ripping out his hair follicles? possibly.

he’d never stop you or scold you however, he thinks it’s hilarious and an endearing trait of yours. when he washes your hair he makes sure to be as soft and careful as possible, almost lulling you to sleep. when you wash his hair however, it’s like you’re turbowashing a pickup truck. he figures this time he’ll give you a pass (he always does) considering that he doesn’t think he’s washed his hair in around a week and a half.

“gonna rinse now, okay?” he hums quietly, closing his eyes.

this almost feels like a purification process to him.

you lather shampoo in his hair once again wanting to do a double cleanse, this time a bit more softly. you massage his scalp, and he tips his head back. you start from the crown of his head, working in circular motions, using your fingertips. then you go to the roots of his hair, pressing and lathering, pressing and lathering, pressing and lathering.

you push his head forward slightly so you can clean the back of his head too, massaging the pressure points in his scalp. you were always a good masseuse, therefore a deep sigh escapes him, tension leaving his body by the second. (this might be the first time in two weeks where he’s been able to breathe comfortably.) you run your fingers throughout the clean strands of his hair, humming a little tune to yourself.

“they called me.” your hands still for second, but resume back to carefully twisting the water out his silky black hair. you stay quiet, knowing that when suguru speaks he prefers to get it all out there first.

“must’ve been like, what, two days after you left?” a humorless laugh escapes him. “they always know when to fuck up my mood. i swear.”

he sighs tiredly. “they went on a whole spiel about how i need to come back home and find a ‘real job’ as a hotshot lawyer or some fancy businessman, as if i don’t run my own tattoo parlor. as if i’m not also a real fucking businessman. like, do they think i don’t make any money? that i can’t comfortably take care of us both?” he rolls his eyes, getting annoyed again just thinking about how long the same repeated conversation had gone on.

suguru’s family is relatively well-off. he’s genuinely thankful that both him & satoru never had to worry about how to put food on the table or be worried about not being able to spoil the people that they loved.

it’s just that his parents were angry that their picture-perfect little boy wanted to spread his wings… see a world that had more to offer than quiet dinner table meals filled with tension and pointed jabs at one another guised as “caring advice.”

their image of suguru started to get distorted when he first showed up on their doorstep with his gauges. an act of rebellion. he could’ve worn small simple diamond studs but he wanted to make an impression: i’m my own person. even as a 13 year old boy, i can make this decision on my own. he remembers the way his father said he looked foolish. how his mother held her hand over her heart, in shock that her little baby boy had tainted himself in such a manner. what would others say?

suguru remembers looking in the mirror after the whole fiasco & thinking: god… they’d say i look so fucking cool.

then it started with sneaking out to go on late night drives with satoru, shoko, nanami, & haibara. they’d jam out to random songs on the radio, get slurpees & snacks, and sit in satoru’s car just talking about life and their future for hours. suguru still remembers the way his bangs wisped across his face, the crisp night air purifying his soul, the stars in the sky illuminating the landscape. the world seemed bigger those days and the gang were enjoying their teenage years. enjoying their youth.

he remembers coming home, his father waiting for him on the couch, pointing to the seat next to him, forcing suguru to sit down. his father’s arms crossed, black turtleneck making his muscles bulge slightly out of his sweater, his specs on the bridge of his nose making him look so serious. suguru found it easy to make eye contact with everyone in the world, but with his father he couldn’t help but look away sometimes… so he redirected his gaze to the tiny delicate beauty mark near his fathers right eye. a small little thing that made his father look a bit more… prettier. nicer. less daunting.

“where were you?” the timbre of his father’s voice rattled his bones. he muttered those three words quietly, but it still shattered suguru’s eardrums regardless.

“out. with my friends.”

he scoffs. “some friends they are.” a deep resounding ring of utter disappointment comes from his father’s words.

suguru sneers at the man, pissed that he would even think to disrespect suguru’s choice of friends like that. “yeah, they’re the best.” not an ounce of sarcasm lacing his words. his own mood dampened, nevertheless.

he recalls stomping all the way upstairs and slamming the door with all his might. sitting on his bed and resting his head against the window pane, eyes looking up at the same stars he saw when hanging out with his friends.

the stars seemed so far away from suguru’s room.

the world looked so big. suguru felt so small.

then one day, months later, suguru kissed a pretty boy. he can’t quite remember his name anymore, just that his lips were soft and his eyes were kind. suguru’s parents found out. his dad was surprisingly fine with it… he just assumed it was a phase, he went through the same thing as his son did when he was his age. his mother however… she just acted like it never happened the next morning. as if it wasn’t just a part of who he is.

his parents thought he was rebelling for the sake of rebellion. in actuality, it was suguru’s true self coming out. he was just getting more comfortable in his own skin. he was tired of being the picture perfect beauty who always was demanded of being polite, poised, & graceful. it was always too easy for him to put on a fake smile and manipulate others into doing what he wanted for the sake of his family’s reputation, it’s what he was taught. being at that house, it felt like he was kept on a tight leash, restricted from living his life. he felt caged like a bird…

but he just wanted to be free.

all he wanted was to just truly be himself in this world.

a kiss against his scalp breaks him out of his reverie.

right… he was here with you. he doesn’t have to spiral or worry anymore. you’re here. with him.

you’re here, you’re here, you’re here.

he shudders softly, taking your hand, holding it tight within his grasp. anger laces his next words, “they also said it’s time i get into a ‘real relationship’. whatever the fuck that means.”

you giggle. you know that his parents aren’t too fond of you. you’re not exactly of the same… class or status as them. at least that’s what suguru’s mother told him.

he huffs out a single dry laugh, “i’m glad you’re giggling about it because i nearly popped a fucking blood vessel screaming into my phone when they said that shit.”

“my protector.” you coo to him.

a light blush tinges his cheeks. always.

he presses a kiss against your palm. “i think it just made me… spiral a bit, y’know? reminded me of when i was kid and they made every little decision for me. i mean i’m a fucking adult now — i can decide what i do, who i wanna be, and who i want to be with.”

so when he got that phone-call from them on that day he was supposed to go to some rock concert… he did the one thing he promised himself he’d never do again. he lit a cigarette, and cried his eyes out into his pillow.

while sobbing, he remembered when he was in his early twenties and he’d sleep around with anyone and everyone, smoke blunts & cigarettes, go bar-hopping… do everything the picture-perfect pretty boy would never be allowed to do under his parents roof. his family just made him so miserable that he would do anything to not think of them.

he heard your voice in his head, reminding him, that instead of continuing on that self-destructive streak, he got his shit together. art & drawing was always his safe haven, so he found himself an apprenticeship at a tattoo parlor, getting a job as a piercer and ultimately working his way up to being a tattooist. he owns his own place now — all his hard work & effort paid off.

his mind travels back to you. his true love.

ever since the moment he met you, he was mesmerized by your beauty, your personality, and your loving words & actions.

suguru’s heart and sobs only calmed down when he thought of you. his beloved. his angel. his reason to be. he hugged your pillow a bit tighter that night, imagining it was you.

“i’m proud of you, you know.” you say it so genuinely that it tugs on his heartstrings, making his heart skip a beat.

“you’ve been through a lot of shit with your parents, but at the end of the day, you chose to follow what your heart desired — not whatever they wanted. you’re successful in what you do and you made the right decision. it doesn’t matter what the hell they say, because they don’t know the effort and time it took you to get where you are.” you say it so passionately, that suguru believes every word that comes out of your mouth. his heart racing, thankful that somebody fucking understands him.

“you’re kind. you’re caring. you’re so unbelievably loving. you’re always looking out for others and helping anyone that needs it… you’re a good fucking person, suguru. i hope you know that and realize that. it doesn’t matter what anyone else says, you are good. what you do is good. who you are is good. it’s an honor to be able to love you and be with you. i hope you know that.”

for the first time in a while, suguru turns around and really looks at you. the way you bare your soul to him so effortlessly, the way you smile so sweetly at him, the way you make him feel like he’s your one true love.

“i’m so thankful for you. i love you… and i want to be with you, too. always.” his voice breaks a little, overcome with emotion.

suguru hugs you tightly, neither of you caring about the wetness on your clothes. suguru puts his entire spectrum of feelings towards you into the hug — an apology, a thank you, and a proclamation of love.

voice a bit shaky, he laughs, “sorry for getting you all wet. i know how much you hate drenched clothes.”

“you apologizing for getting me wet? now that’s a first.” you purr playfully, glad to see him in better spirits.

a loud laugh bellows out from suguru, deep within his gut. he kisses your lips preciously, and sits back down in the water, urging you to continue.

the mood now is far lighter. the air thick with a sweet steam.

you rinse his hair and gently put his lavender conditioner through his hair. massaging it in, running your fingers through his silky smooth strands. you put his hair up in a clip for a few minutes to let the product soak in. he washes it out himself while you start the shower, making sure you put in his favorite honey-almond bodywash. he gives you a silly yet oddly sultry show when he lathers himself and he promptly comes out, steaming and refreshed. you help him do his skincare routine, softly rubbing each and every product into his skin. he towels off and sits down, hairbrush in his hand, looking at you.

“here, let’s do this first.” you blow dry his hair, taking your time and allowing suguru to lull his head back onto your front, the soft black tresses of your beloved’s hair feeling much more revitalized in your fingers. you then brush his hair, gently, carefully. the entire time, you notice that suguru’s eyes are closed and he’s smiling to himself. you kiss him on the top of his head, and he turns to kiss you back. eyes closed, his lips puckered…

but just then, the doorbell rings.

“OOH! perfect timing!” you scurry off. you leave a pouting suguru who huffs out a little “hmph.” annoyed that whoever was at the door took a very well-deserved kiss away from him.

he patters softly to the kitchen where you’re setting out cold zaru soba noodles for him along with a can of sprite and matcha crepes. all of his favorites.

you hold a bouquet of flowers. daffodils.

“for you.” you curtsy, a mirthful twinkle in your eyes. he graciously accepts them from you, a shy smile and light flush across his cheeks.

“thank you.”

kissing his knuckles you whisper, “anything for you.”

for once in his whole entire life, suguru doesn’t think he can bear to look you in the eye. your adoration is so unbelievably intense, it feels like it’ll burn a hole inside his heart. does he deserve so much goodness in his life?

“you deserve more than what i can give you. i’ll spend my whole life making sure you realize that, suguru.” you say to him honestly. “if you’ll allow me of course.”

he kisses you on the lips softly, hoping that you can feel how thankful and lucky he is that he has you. “likewise.”

he clears his throat. “okay, c’mon. i’m starving. i wanna watch that stupid anime and shit talk that hot guy you like on screen while we snuggle.”

“he’s the best character, suguru!” you huff indignantly. clearly he can’t be talking about thee toji fushiguro???

“babe. he SUCKS.”

he knows you so well, he muses to himself.

he knows how your breath hitches after he nuzzles his lips against the curve of your neck, that the skin is sensitive there, but not as sensitive as your right ear. he knows that because of the way your knees buckle as he whispers soft romances to you, intense shivers overtaking your body. he makes sure that his arm is always wrapped tender yet firmly around your waist when that happens, trapping you against his unyielding body.

he knows what makes you tick. on the rare occasion that you allow your emotions to overcome you, he knows how to comfort you. he leaves you alone for a few moments so you’re able to gather your thoughts & assess your bearings, and then he invites you into his warm embrace. he lets you lay your head in his lap as he strokes your hair gingerly, easing your soul with both honest and kind words. adorning your face with soft kisses and even softer caresses. a cocoon of protection.

it seems like these days, however, he hasn’t had a proper grasp on you. you can’t hide a single thing from him, he knows that you would never willingly do so either.

it’s not like you want to anyways — not that you intend to, at least.

but it’s an aching feeling in his chest, nonetheless.

earlier in the week, you’d softly shut your bedroom door whenever you saw him, pretending as if you couldn’t see each other… as if he wasn’t there. it’s moments where he found you haphazardly digging for shit in your drawers, tucking whatever it was into your pockets and padding away softly to your room. you’d stay in there for hours, only coming out when he knocked on your door to tell you dinner was ready. he heard lots of rustling and you pretended as if you were just chilling in there, as if nothing was going on. sometimes when he knocked on your door to see what you were up to, all he heard back was an “i’m busy, baby! i’ll be out soon!” then it became even more odd, you’d quickly shut off your phone whenever he came into the room and would plaster a bright smile at him as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

he sighs to himself. he trusts you. he loves you. he knows you’re not doing anything heinous.

but… why won’t you tell him what’s bothering you? don’t you trust him to fix whatever is wrong? it eats away at his mind & soul that you think you have to hide whatever it is that’s taking you from him. don’t you know that he’d drop anything for you? that’s what being in love is for, right?

his eyes peer at you from the couch, studying you. he calls out to you softly, “angel. can we talk, please?”

a statement posed as a question. he knows this. you know this. you answer regardless.

“sure.”

you walk towards him, intentionally adding a lackadaisical swagger to your steps. to fool him. you know it won’t, he knows it won’t. but suguru isn’t anything if a man who doesn’t indulge his beloved.

he pats the seat next to him on the couch. inviting. as if he’s giving you a choice, even though you know you have none at the moment. “sit next to me, my love.” his smile is taut like a string, amber eyes shut closed so you don’t bear witness to the tears that threaten to spill.

he knows you’re hiding something.

he doesn’t like not being in the know.

is it something he did?

is it something you did but are too afraid to tell him?

since when were you afraid of him?

were you always–?

in the few seconds it takes you to sit down, a myriad of questions race through suguru’s head, creating a spiral of untamable negative thoughts. you would talk to him if something was wrong, right? you both have a healthy communication and always talk things over with each other… so what’s different now? do you not trust him?

suguru chastises himself, thoroughly.

of course you wouldn’t want to speak to someone like him.

always the overthinker. always the nagging negative nancy. always the manic-depressive.

sometimes suguru fears that he acts more like a father to you rather than a boyfriend.

that he’s a bit suffocating. too intense. very overbearing.

a warm hand engulfs both of your small, cold ones. he hopes that it comes off as sweet, as caring. because he himself is sweet and caring.

at least he hopes he comes off like that.

“is everything alright, sweetheart?” a soft whisper. he speaks placatingly to you like you’re a newborn fawn and any loud noises or large movements will make you jolt and run away. “i feel like… you’ve been avoiding me recently. and…” he takes a deep breath. “listen, i don’t know if it’s something i did, but you need to tell me, okay? you have to tell me so i can make it better.”

he thinks he sounds nurturing. kind. paternal.

he also thinks he sounds so fucking condescending.

he closes his eyes and a picture of a man darts across his eyelids like an overdeveloped photo.

strict, heavy-handed, cutthroat.

paternal and protective to a fault. a man who was always “right” even when he was wrong.

an “apathetic” man who bore a child who thought too much – felt too much.

a flash of a sophisticatedly handsome man with obsidian shoulder length hair, serious low-lidded eyes, and a firm closed mouth sears itself across suguru’s brain like a charred photograph.

he flings away the afterimage as quickly as it came. pretending as if he never even thought of it.

he gulps, swallowing the fireball in his throat. god, he really doesn’t want to be like… him. having a majority of his features is enough, he does not want to inherit that man’s personality.

suguru absentmindedly rubs the slit in his eyebrow, his grip unintentionally tightening on your hands. he releases moments after, not wanting to cause you any pain.

“everything is fine with me sugu, i promise you.” you reassure him. “it wasn’t my intention to avoid you or make you feel like you did anything wrong… i am so sorry if it came off like that.” you answer him honestly. your head is tilted to the side like a little puppy, brows furrowed, upset that you made him feel like you were trying to get away from him.

“no, no no no no no, baby it’s not your fault.” he quickly grabs your cheeks, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. he brings you against his chest, hugging you tightly. “don’t apologize honey, i’m sorry… i just got into my head a bit.” he quickly placates you and kisses the top of your head. you shouldn’t be the one to suffer because he started to anxiously overthink and spiral.

he looks at the time on his watch. it’s a few minutes past midnight. you both should go to sleep… maybe you can talk it over in bed or in the morning with clear heads.

you exhale softly, shaking your head faintly. you press a delicate kiss against the corner of his lips. telling him, “give me a sec.”, you walk over and into your room.

he nods and watches you saunter away, putting his head into his hands. god… him and his big mouth… he sighs, anxiety crawling up his throat once more. he really didn’t want to upset you or anything, he angrily tells himself to apologize to you when you get back.

hearing you shuffle closer to him, he lifts his head.

in your hands is a… huge book?

“i wanted to give you this tomorrow… well technically today, but i guess it doesn’t really matter.”

he tilts his head, confused. you present him with the thing you’ve been working so hard on.

you smile at him so softly, he thinks that his heart is about to burst. “happy birthday, suguru.”

birthday…? oh god, it is his birthday.

he gently takes the present from you… it’s a scrapbook.

“don’t look at it in front of me! okay, bye!” you quickly sprint into your room, not wanting to be in the room when suguru looks at such a personalized present.

blinking, he grabs his reading glasses from the coffee table, and opens the book, flipping through each page carefully.

photobooth pictures, polaroids, kodak film pictures, movie ticketes from your dates, admission tickets from amusement parks he’s taken you to, and multiple candids of both him and you - many of which he hasn’t seen.

one of them looks awfully familiar… did you take this the day you took him stargazing in the meadow? his fingers brush against his trembling lips, trying to stop himself from sobbing.

is this what you were doing?

he feels so stupid.

but god… does he feel so fucking loved.

you’ve immortalized every single moment of your relationship with him. nothing being too small for you to be excited about, carefully keeping everything.

he sees the little pressed flower of a daffodil enclosed in wax paper on one of the pages, probably from the first time you gave him a bouquet. the first time anyone has presented him with flowers without wanting anything in return. when asked about the occasion, you simply shrugged and said “just felt like it” & then quickly kissed his knuckles, zooming out of his apartment to run errands. he remembers how bashful he felt. how thankful he was. how loved that experience made him feel.

he moves his glasses upwards, wiping the tears across his lashline and the ones that stream down his face. he clears his throat slightly, and continues flipping the pages. you’ve drawn little doodles (things that he’s already planning to get tattooed on him simply because they came from you) and you’ve written beautiful, personal messages. encapsulating your adoration for suguru in the margins — genuine words filled with your love, devotion, and admiration for him.

he sniffs loudly and tries to wipe his face the best he can. he tenderly calls out your name, beckoning you over to him, and you get up out of your shared bedroom to pad softly into his open arms.

“my love.” he stands up and walks over to you midway. he hugs you so tightly while pressing your head against his beating heart, his arms protectively enveloping you. the space between you two is nonexistent, and suguru surmises that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

conveying his thankfulness and love to you, he sweetly says, “my sweet, sweet girl.” a soft kiss pressed against your hair, “my heart beats for you, forever and always.” from anyone else it’d sound cheesy, but from suguru… you know he means it from the depths of his soul.

“my little dove.” he coos so fondly, sweet candied sugar dripping from every syllable. he holds your face in his gentle hands, openly divulging his admiration for you, “you’re so precious to me, you know that? i love you. i love you. i love you.” a tender kiss pressed against your soft lips between each proclivity of adoration.

you smile graciously, thankful and relieved that he adores your present and that he especially adores you. you knew out of any of your presents that you were going to give him today, that this would be the most meaningful. suguru has always been the ultimate sentimentalist, and you wanted him to know that you care for him so deeply. that you love him. adore him. that your heart beats only for him. pushing back a black tendril of your true love’s hair behind his ear, you kiss him gently. both of your lips fitting together perfectly — like a lock & key.

you bring his knuckles upon your lips, preciously kissing his promise ring, ensuring to him that your love and devotion runs deep, deeper than anything in this world.

“i love you too. happy birthday, my love.” his hands are so gentle. his face is so sweet. suguru… your one true love.

if you asked suguru to describe you in three words, he’d say you were: devoted. loyal. loving.

he has four more of his own on the tip of his tongue that he’ll say to you when he musters up the courage.

with a soft kiss upon the ring on your knuckles, and an even softer smile upon his lips, he lovingly breathes out, “私はあなたを永遠に愛します”

[ozzgin]

In the post mentioning flashing horny mantis there was meet and greet. I have a question how other monsters would behave in meet and greet (assuming that they will show up)

(Sorry for my English ;^;)

Also I love your work

POV: Your monster followers meeting you

content: gender neutral reader, mentions of stalking

LizardKing5 vehemently denies his attendance in the chatroom. "What, you think you're some celebrity?" he types, claiming he has better things to do than follow around some pathetic human.

Coincidentally, he's the first monster to greet you, standing tall at the very front of the queue.

"Whatever," he'll mumble, pulling out his merch and shaking your hand with feigned indifference. "I just happened to be in the area."

"What were you even doing before this," you ask, raising your eyebrows at the enormous backpack looming behind him.

Is that camping gear?

His clawed, scaly hand quickly ruffles your hair. Mind your damn business.

SharkMan is rather polite and reserved in his mannerisms. Don't misunderstand, he truly is excited to see you again, but he'd rather not add more to your plate. Besides, if we count the milestone event, he's already gotten way more than a handshake from you.

"Are you staying hydrated?" he asks, placing a bag of goodies on your table. "Here's something to eat during your break."

You smile and thank him for the thoughtful gesture. Hard to believe the same monster left you nearly crippled after a night together. You're sitting on the same cushion you needed for weeks after the affair.

DefNotAStalker will show up just to mess with you. He's watched you prepare for the event, he carefully observed you getting dressed; hell, he even ironed your outfit the night before! You swear the shirt had wrinkles last time you checked.

He'll shake your hand with an innocent grin and ask for an autograph. He's picked the perfect photo for it: to the unaware, it looks like a blurry print screen taken during one of your livestreams. In reality, he cheekily snapped it while hanging right above you, off-screen. You sign it with a chuckle.

"Thank you for coming, it was such a tiring week for me," you say, lowering yourself back in your seat.

"I can imagine. I hope the apartment complex will fix it soon."

You nod, distracted, and the monstrous creature slithers away.

Wait, did you ever even mention this to your followers?

Y/NSimp is elated to meet you. He's been carefully planning this for months, constantly daydreaming about the fateful encounter. His bag is filled to the brim with the required equipment: a fat stack of love letters, a marriage certificate, Photoshopped photos of the two of you together, an engagement ring, and a list of potential names for your future children.

He can already see it: he'll hand you the bag and the flowers, and you'll gasp, surprised by his romantic gesture. You never thought someone would care this much. Without hesitation, you jump into his arms, and promptly cancel the rest of the event. You'll be too busy with your husband-to-be.

Unfortunately, he has omitted one vital detail in his elaborate schemes: the correct address of the meet and greet. By the time he reaches the actual location, the doors are closed and the venue empty.

[Monster Streaming Series] | [Meet and Greet Part 1]

[richarlotte]

How I got my life together.

Getting your life together, and I mean really getting it together, should be a priority of yours. You can’t miss out on your life by staying in a pattern of losing it all, pulling it together as quickly and as carelessly as you can, and then losing it all again because you weren’t ready enough or devoted the first time. I made a choice to pull my life together when I was 18, and I’ve stayed improving myself ever since; I bettered my mental health, fixed my body, changed my mindset, found an aesthetic and style that worked for me and that I loved, and have done my part to keep steadily improving my life and my mindset. If you are devoted to yourself and your life, you will do well and find that the path towards your future will become much clearer as time goes on.

Exercising.

You need to be exercising, bettering your body, and taking the time to nourish yourself and your health. This means eating whole meals and taking the time to cook and prepare them, considering removing heavily processed foods and alcohol from your day-to-day diet, and taking the time to do at home or in gym workouts. I do Move with Nicole videos in the morning, finish up with a quick yoga session, go to the gym in the evenings, and make sure that my body is being fueled by real foods and being properly hydrated throughout the day. You will live in the same body for the rest of your life; you need to make sure that you’re caring for it and nourishing it in ways that will let it support you for the rest of your life. You won’t regret a health journey, and you should actively be on one. 

Socializing.

Isolation will kill you, and if you already have anxiety, it will worsen it. You should be meeting people, getting to know them, leaving your comfort zone, and trying new things. Your late teens and early twenties are all about taking the time to know people, making and losing friends, and figuring out the sorts of people you want to have in your life forever. You have to socialize, go to social events, join clubs and different activities, and get out of the house. I’m a person who believes in spending time around and loving other people, and that has saved my life. If you aren’t sure how to socialize, don’t have friends, or aren’t sure of what you like, now’s the time to learn how. You don’t become good at meeting people in one day; it takes time and failure, but the more you do to leave your comfort zone, the easier it will become as time moves along.

Studying.

I believe that life is meant for learning. It’s important to always be learning, to always be bettering yourself, and to always be keeping your mind busy. While I strongly believe that every woman should have a university education and a degree, I understand that it’s not always feasible. If it’s not possible for you to get a degree, you have to learn a trade, a skill, a language, or find something to occupy your mind so that it’s not idle. It’s important to always be doing something, and it’s important that you’re pursuing a passion; life isn’t much if you’re not passionate about what you’re doing, so you have to find them and do more with them. Education can come from work experience; it can come from pursuing projects, cultivating wisdom, and spending your time nourishing your mind and reading books. Life is a learning experience, and you should be in constant pursuit of educational excellence. 

Seeing More.

Life is about seeing more and seeing things you’ve never experienced. If you’ve always wanted to watch a tennis match, step into the ocean, or see the sights in a new city, now’s the time to start making plans to do those things. We all deserve to see and experience beautiful things, so it’s important that we find the time to do so. If I hadn’t made the time to find beauty in the mundane, I wouldn’t have made it far. You don’t have to spend money pursuing beauty; I find the most beauty I’ve seen in my life is found on short walks and time spent around my city. You should spend your time both looking for beauty and becoming beautiful too.

Doing More.

Doing more is next. I’ve spent my life trying new things, failing, succeeding, having a good time, and learning about what I enjoy. You should be doing more; your twenties are for moving away, visiting new cities, trying new foods, working jobs you hate and finding jobs you love, going to new restaurants and getting into new relationships, and doing more with yourself. All of the greatest women I’ve ever known have told me that they spent next to no time resting in their twenties because they had so much life to live. I’d encourage you to do things without holding yourself back, and if you don’t know what to do with yourself, find things to do. You can't waste your youth being idle; now is the time to get out of your room, see the world and what it has to offer, and do more with yourself and your gifts.

Richarlotte x

[yearningfortheend]

Note challenge (revamped)

I'm getting annoyed with seeing this post pop up in my notifications.

Some people thought they'd be cheeky and spam reblog this, so I'm remaking it with the intent for these goals to be harder to reach so I can COMFORTABLY change over the course of time. Most goals are from the last one, however I added two more and made the milestones harder to accomplish.

400 - I'll fix up my intro post and add more stuff to it. I've been meaning to clean it up anyways.

800 - I'll post a few things about me. Nothing too crazy. (mod note: hcs post)

1000 - I'll try making one of those whiteboard things for people to collaborate and draw on, and it'll be in the revamped intro post. I did one before, but it flopped horribly.

1500 - I'll go through my phone and such and clean out the pictures on it.

2300 - I'll try to consistently use my self care app that's been lying dormant for months now.

3700 - I'll try to eat a little throughout the day again, and not... get rid of it.

4200 - I'll try to stay off any drugs and go through any withdrawal symptoms.

5000 - I'll try to take showers and wash myself thoroughly instead of just sitting there under warm water.

6100 - I'll try to keep myself hydrated.

7500 - I'll attempt to fix my sleep schedule.

15,000 - I'll begin the process of giving up self destructive behaviors.

25,000 - ...I'll try to reconnect with my daughter.

[moondirti]

ANGEL OF SMALL DEATH [ john price x f! reader ]

: he sees you when his vices take hold. little love, invented. chimeric, he assumed - until you're not.

mdni. noncon; addiction (nicotine and alcohol); SSRIs; intoxication; breeding kink; daddy kink; hallucinations; kidnapping; drugging; objectification; slut-shaming; sexual harassment; violence; bondage; vomiting; guns; suicide, murder, pregnancy, spanking and branding mentions. 7k.

a/n: have yall seen ruby sparks? yeah imagine that but worse

John's always had his fixes.

He remembers the hysterics. Five and wet behind the ears, lungs scoured raw of anguish when his mum hadn't let him sup the vanilla extract. It's not what you'd expect, hun. But the child-sized idée fixe, destructive in its naivety, turned its head at the implication. He stuck his nose to the bottle's cap, got a whiff of it unfiltered, and revolted; how could it taste like anything but the ambrosia it promised?

Or, who was she to deny he try?

(His resistance to authority can be spoored there. A miasmic trail back to youth, stinking something foul. It had been a Sisyphean effort, pyrrhic, when he enlisted. Burnishing odour only to find, without it, there was nothing left for them to make use of.)

So – red-faced, tousled pyjamas at 2200, balanced atop a chair as his parents snored soundly on the couch – he snuck a teaspoon for himself.

It was foul, of course. A calcine irritation that clawed on its way down his throat, baring raw tissue in its wake. He hid his coughs behind his sleeves, vision cloudy with tears as he put everything back where it belonged – not disappointed so much as he was committed, he thinks. Because the very next night, he came back to try it again.

And again, and again.

Like clockwork, he tipped the small vial up onto his tongue and hoped it would pass into something different. Obsessive. Ruinous monomania. His dreams sprung into caliginous visions that detailed nothing but the phantom touch of it to his tongue; this taste, syrupy sweet like nothing he would find in comfits and puddings and pies.

(In hindsight, all it did was teach him how to embrace the burn.)

It only stopped when his mum woke to him voiding his guts in an old popcorn bowl. Poison control, buoyant levity clipped over the rotary phone, told her that it happens all the time. Kids go looking for a midnight snack and think vanilla will hit the spot. Our suggestion is to settle for alternatives until he's old enough to know better. Hydrate in the meanwhile.

– know better.

It's hard to say he does.

His wants still have wants, have asinine wants, that which keep him so late into the night that it's dawn before he falls comatose. Sunk into a leather wingback, the space of his parlour more smoke than it is air, contemplating keeping a warm body in these hinterlands. Helplessly soft, pretty. Fixated on that faceless something, burrowed beneath his sweet tooth again.

But on the wrong side of forty, he's honed prudence like a well-oiled firearm. Custom so things run smoothly, though not one he finds necessary if it weren't for convention. He knows his job would cut in on the upkeep, month long absences like a disease to whoever he manages to snare. It'll kill them, slowly, holed up in this home alone.

(When his parents did away with the extract, he tore the curtains and scribbled on their walls. A boy's green version of withdrawal, deprived of his favourite vice. He's never considered sobriety for that very reason – he's bad even with a maduro in hand.

And the thing about people, they're never so easy to replenish.)

Age besets everything. Counters them, grown as he is. Pragmatic.

Still. To say he knows better is... faulty, flawed. Not when he fists his cock to those fantasies and stirs on all the ways he can bring them to light. Early retirement (a prompt no; he's just as dependant on the field), or multiple little loves to keep each other company, his house turned an Arcadia of nymphs (though he tires to think of wrangling more than one, and the idea diffuses like sugar steeped in tea.)

It's on his fourth- fifth iteration that John starts to see it for what it really is. That this – a darling wife to curl between his legs – is like the imagined taste of vanilla extract. Too good to ever be made true. At least for a man of his ilk, whose bloody hands slip around nirvana. Unearned. Chained to purgatory so long as he weighs sins against the greater good. He wasn't meant for the finer things in life.

So he sticks to what he has. Old familiars. Noxious inhibitors, palmed for upwards of ten pounds, crafted for old dodgers like himself. Tobacco, dry whiskey. Nicotine to spout fire to his hindbrain. Cheap, easy accesses that sate the itch behind his eyes, so long as he lights another.

Ouroboros. It feeds itself and lasts.

(Until you come off the tail end that is, and sever the loop with your own, clever little hands.)

You pose a different kind of problem.

It starts after Serbia. Hounding across the Carpathian mountains for the better part of a winter has detrimental effects, see. And though he eventually locates the bunker Laswell's informants alerted them to, he comes out of it changed – head fixed the wrong way around, skin flaking over off a mulish swell of anger. Going back home is an ordeal when his body acclimatised to find warmth in the frost, talking to Stygian shadows like comrades. Necessitated madness revoked.

Because all of a sudden, everything is too comfortable. Vibrant. Nothing hurts enough to match the stress still ricocheting within him, and the imbalance threatens to capsize. The doctors prescribe SSRIs, tell him to keep it separate, Captain, when their eyes skim that part of his file that notes him as a habitual drinker – so he switches from bourbon to Canadian whiskey, like the ABV will make a difference.

(That inveterate defiance, rearing its ugly head once more.)

And really, he doesn't get what all the fuss is about.

The static in his head flatlines, white noise taking its slot. It's the greatest peace he's found since his bunkmate at boarding school stuck a joint between his teeth and told him to suck. Like fog wearing over a hill, his thoughts grow muddied, loose and abandoned once he can't tell which way is up or where the sky ends.

And the wants, the very same he's long since buried, come back with a vengeance. Unchanged, for the most part (he doubts they were ever dead in the first place) yet manifested differently, like they're privy to the scepticism that killed them last.

(Reveries no longer disembodied, shuddering old film onto the backs of his eyes, but projected into the dark corners of his house, instead.)

He hears your laugh, first. It is early March and easter endorsements already shade the telly in garish joie de vivre, corporations fighting for a foot in your spring celebrations! Buy an egg-dying kit and get one free, hurry before it's too late! John doesn't remember turning it on, can hardly feel the remote in his hands, but that acedia ebbs once the sound of it meets his ears. The sound of you–

Jingle-bell mischievous, he knows it has no place amidst the foolish ditties of spring. He turns the T.V. off, sitting upright in his chair, ears piqued in every direction as he waits for it again.

From the kitchen: another breathless titter, tapped from a chest too delicate to be mistaken for the howling winds outside. When he rises to inspect the source, he swipes the spare gun he uses to foot a broken table, trigger finger dangling bonelessly by the grip. Good to have it there, just in case, though he's confident he won't need to resort to such measures to neutralise you – not if you equal the Zephyr-like quality of your voice.

(Paranoia, it seems, is another effect of downing his meds with Crown Royal. Had he been less inebriated, he would have remembered that his doors are double bolted, and that there's no one out for miles.)

But what he expects to find, luminous between the birch cupboard rows, is not there. His kitchen is as empty as it's always been.

So, they might have warned him about it. He might have avoided this whole thing had he listened. But things snowball when he grasps what's happening. Calamitous uptake; it invades his dreams again, and his dreams invade reality.

(If he cannot have what he wants within the provident constrictions of life, then what's the harm in indulging himself, if only a little.)

Soon enough, he sees glimpses of you wherever he looks.

Sylphic figure come to haunt him. Light bounces through you, your flesh gossamer-like. Diaphanous. He thinks you cannot be crafted that way if not to accent the dark, wet rims of your eyes. The lightning-branched veins etched to all four extremities. Nipples like petals, touched alluringly to your breasts. He thinks you cannot be fictitious – he's never been an inventive man, and the impish flick of your lips reads as familiar, somehow. Dancing on the tip of his tongue, or a song he's heard once and never again. Like he's taken to it before–

His memory swishes like watered nectar in this state. It's impossible to place.

Still–

So long as you continue to appear as fine mist does, chasing the throttles of his high, John's a happy man. He need not tell you anything; you already know his name, what it is he likes. You sway to imagined tunes (later, he couples it to the erratic drumming of his heart) and jump nimbly around his legs, winding and tangling and falling right through them when he wishes to see you stumble.

You don't talk much, either. He has yet to whet the finer points of your being, work out what makes you tick or how you'd enunciate your words. It's an eggshell process. Fragile. Some nights, he'll imagine you with a cadence that doesn't quite fit, and you'll stutter like a faulty motor before shattering from view. To avoid disillusionment, he has to be careful. Extend a platter of properties for you to choose from, picky thing, and watch as you notch them on your tongue, testing.

You'll get this look on your face as you do. Contemplative, lips pursed for a moment before you shrug and slide down to decorate his feet, arms stretched across his ottoman like willow branches over a creek. It would put him off if it were anyone else, but he's eternally endeared to you.

The first time you speak, it's to call him out on that.

'Naturally.' You giggle, twirling your phantom fingers in the tufts of his leg hair. 'You have to like something in order for me to present it. Or is that not how it works?'

He doesn't think so.

"You tell me, little one. If that were the case, why disappear when I try something you aren't keen on, hm?" His words are slurred, strung together hastily, like his tongue hasn't the strength to articulate each in full. You understand him anyway, of course, scrunching your nose.

'I don't know.'

"Think, then."

You shuffle straighter on your knees.

'Maybe I want to be just right for you, daddy. Not all your ideas are great.'

John jerks his leg admonishingly, the joint of it passing right through you. It causes you to blink out of existence for a second, and his throat twists uncomfortably around the new darkness. Loneliness hurts more, harrows deeper, now that he's unused to it.

But you come back, straddling his hips this time. You always do

(So long as he keeps sipping, the glass in his hand sweating cool condensation into his skin. His cigar slowly smoulders away in a nearby ashtray, waiting for the uptake.)

"Mm, thought I lost ya." And if you were there – really there, he thinks – he'd wrap your hair in a fat fist and angle your head roughly down onto his. His arms lay flat to his sides, however. Restless.

'No.' You don't exhibit the same discretion. You smooth down his bare chest, ironing his scars until he feels brand new again. Whole as a kid. 'Haven't you heard? I have a tongue now, and all I wanna do is talk.'

"Is that right?" He hums, half-lidded eyes watch the space between your knees widen. Like Artemis in her waters, cursing Actaeon to the jowls of his dogs – you love teasing him when you know he cannot do anything about it, destined to be torn apart by his inborn desire.

'Well, what else is there?'

And if not for that one thing, John would be content to live like this forever.

(Two, if you count his prescription quickly running out.)

Routine lasts about a fortnight, if his taking of time is to be trusted.

Staged courting, you call it. A production of how typical romances go. When the sky bruises, opening up like the ripe flesh of a plum, he'll knock back two tablets using the last dregs of his afternoon whiskey and wait for you to come home to him. You look stunning when you arrive; naked, your body soft and creased and effulgent. And while it depends on how his day's been, more often than not, you'll imitate rubbing his feet as he tells you about everything – paperwork and the taskforce and state secrets (does confidentiality count towards figments of his high?) – before he's settled enough to cut to the chase.

Yet he runs out of patience for it as time hauls on. Avidity amasses, tumorigenic need cramping his chest. One day, he stops you from kneeling at all. 

"No need for that, sweet thing." He orders with a stiff grunt. There's no justification as to why, though it's clear you sense it already. The fraying strings of his sanity, that which you bat at like a playful kitten, have started to unravel dangerously close to what is holding it all together. "Just do what you do best, hm?"

(The best you can do–)

'Yes, daddy.'

Ever-dutiful, despite the monotony. There are no arguments with you, no taming and fights unless he's in a particularly aggressive mood. The only indication of your disappointment (not yours so much as it is his in himself) is the wet flutter of your lashes, the poking harlequin pout.

Both disappear from view when you turn your back to him and bend at the hip, small hands stretching to dig into your behind. His cock is out in no time – was practically tearing at his pant's seams, really – thrumming painfully hard, leaking onto his stomach when you pull apart either cheek like dough.

Your pussy spreads, glimmering under a matting of wiry hair. Arousal (feigned, imagined, projected–) webs your thighs together, swollen clit budding at the end of your mons. Apple of Eden; his jerks are awkward, uncoordinated, in comparison. Human. There's a twinge in his wrist from working himself almost daily.

His teeth taste like tobacco and spice, sleep clinging to the roof of his mouth. Would you eclipse it with your sweet-sour tang? He pictures taking you; stuffing his nose right below the tight rim of your ass so his tongue can lave over your slit. Working you open with his tongue. You'd soak the hair around his lips, and he'd press harder in response.

John spoils you rotten in his dreams. You know it, too, toes wiggling where you stand a few feet away. How cruel that he shouldn't get the chance to, then – that he has to consume his fixes to stop them from taunting him, and you're God's way of saying that he can't always get what he wants.

Carrot on a fucking stick. He's made an arse of. And worse yet–

He can't cum, no matter how enticingly you stand there. His palms are too calloused, nerves grown bored of their rough drag. Every jerk is a barely-there sensation. Surface level. Shallow. Like a rock skipping across a lake that never manages to sink.

(It never did amount to what you do to him in his head. But it seems as though his body has finally caught on to what the rest of him already knew.

That this – this tragic, autogenous slaking of carnal desire – can not continue on forever.)

He groans, paralysis needling painfully up his neck. It echoes like anger and holds none of the punch.

Breaking position, you twist to assess the newborn tension.

'Shhhh,' You coo. There's no judgement in your glassy eyes, none that can perceive (or wants to see). Rather, it's all pure love, a whisper of distress, and devotion. His little love, so perfect besides this one thing. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'

"Not your fault." Hoarse. Broken.

(Who has he become?)

'I'd help you if I could. Let you take whatever you wanted from me, you wouldn't even have to ask.'

He'd been the one to initiate it, but the prospect of his orgasm is long abandoned when you perch on the armrest, laying your head near his. He has nowhere else to put his hands, so he keeps them cupped between his thighs – and if he suspends utilitarianism for long enough, can almost believe that they're yours, instead.

"That's nice, little one."

He imagines your warmth, the soft comfort of your bosom, as sleep encroaches on his periphery. You'd cup the tired weight of his head and lay it on your lap, there to stay until he awakes to birdsong. There in the morning light.

Thus the minutes tick by in quiet melancholy. He's halfway layered in the pelts of hypnagogia before you speak again.

'You should visit town tomorrow. Mail something home for Mother's Day maybe, and stop by the grocer's for eggs. You're all out.'

He hasn't seen greater society for almost a month.

A wicked hangover splits his skull, worming its claws into the soft matter of his brain. John had initially set out to do as you bid him – find a nice present for his mum and stock up for the next few weeks' hibernation – but the throngs of people crowding home goods and the jewellers make his condition worse, so he resolves to call her on the day and heads straight to the market instead.

Eggs, you said. He needs a lot more than that. Water and red meat and perhaps something that leaks grease when fried. Cucumbers, yoghourt, granola, too. Milk or juice, never both because he can't commit to finishing them before their best-by date. Fruit. Cookies.

The list grows exponentially as he surveys the colourful aisles, under eyes tender to the touch. If it weren't for the cart carrying most of his weight, he would have toppled over already, his chest dipped over the handle, wheels barreling forward. The store's empty enough that he doesn't worry about clipping someone's ankles. For now, it's just him.

Always that. Just him, and–

"Ah!"

Fuck.

"Are you alright?" He defaults, lurching to pluck the rolling oranges off the floor. It necessitates far more exertion than he can handle at the moment. The woman he ran into catches what bowls from his reach.

"Oh, yes! So sorry, that one's on me." She laughs, nervous. The nature of it – gentle, shaky like the beat of a butterfly's wing – rouses a near Pavlovian response in him, pleasantries crystallising between his teeth, hard as pearls. He coasts a suspicious look up, but her head stays bowed as she piles everything into her basket, arched baseball cap obscuring her features. "I insist on carrying everything, see, then it gets too much for me and the baskets are the nearest thing, and you know how heavy those can get if you do some serious shopping, don't you?. Honestly, I never learn. How silly."

The wonder shatters. He cringes, eyelids pruning shut to gather his sore thoughts in the sudden clammer. Talks too much, too loud. He finds it hard to tolerate anything but singsong whispers these days.

(On him, he knows.)

Unceremonious, they both stand. John extends the final orange, appraising the products she tucks it between rather than look back up at her. Sugar, butter, eggs, flour. And a hefty heap of citrus, of course. Odd.

She seems to think the same, breaking the awkward lull first.

"Big family?" The question is clearly well-intentioned – posed to the stacked contents of his cart. No well-adjusted man would hoard as many perishables for himself, not with the grocer's as accessible as it is. But John is not well-adjusted in any sense of the word, especially in the past few months. All her prying does, then, is inflame the irritation dusting his throat, kneading salt into the wound.

How incredibly unfortunate timing.

"Gingivitis?" He clips back. His hangover makes regret a hard thing to reach, though given she doesn't take offence to his snipe.

"Ouch, okay." She laughs, more lighthearted than before. It reminds him of you (you, is anything its own thing anymore?) and John feels a fire light his heels. Agitation to get back home. "No, I'm making orange shortbread for the old folks at the nursing home. Needed to replenish a few things. I haven't baked in a while."

"How nice."

"'Tis the season! Erm– I mean. Y'know, with Mother's Day."

(Later, when he's staring at his fingers, sozzled like a cat on cream, he replays this conversation over in his head like he'll be able to change its outcome. Had he been alert, he'd have picked up on it by now. Christmas platitudes in spring – who else did he know with such transgressive peculiarities?

Captain Price wouldn't have missed it. Unfortunately for him, he left that intensity between powdered ice and silver firs.)

"Anyway." She coughs. He didn't realise he was expected to respond, stare lingering on the exit some distance away, keen to see this end. In his periphery, her cap tips down, supply list clutched in fidgety hands as she reads down the line of ingredients. He forces his attention back to the moment, training his eyes on the curve of her skull. "Just one thing left. Um, should be down hereeeee–"

Her head tilts up again, searching for the aisle markers overhead.

And it's–

Painful. Like the rip release of every organ seizes simultaneously, domino discharge down his spine. Ribs flush suddenly into the flaring muscle of his heart, which thrashes wildly against the corral, desperate to see itself out. To reach across this empty space and leech on to the delicate features that come into view. His brain – startled out of its judiciousness – blares I told you so's to the hot rush of blood behind his ears. Marrow melts to oil his joints, unmooring their structural integrity, and his breakfast threatens to disgorge and make for a foul first impression.

(John always thought revelations came kindly, that they blossomed in the neglected forks of life. Like a summer boscage, or the gentle, prying hands of a monarch escaping its cocoon. How can divulgence be anything but soft, and refined? How would the world grapple with them if otherwise?

He sees it now for what it is.

The world would have no choice.)

"Vanilla extract." You shake your list, smiling at him – a vivid, honest smile – before you brush right out of view.

He tells himself this doesn't change things. No matter how you like to argue the opposite.

'I don't see why not, daddy. Don't you want me, too?'

More than he'd like anything else in the world. But it's back again, that reaper of dreams poison control once foretold. Know better. He does, at least to the extent that bringing you here – tying you to his bed posts like he so desperately wants to do – is not the best idea. His age, his job, his incessant fucking wants, all pave their own desire paths; some more practical than others but less tempting as a result.

He knows how loneliness kills. At least he's built for it, but you?

"Work complicates things, little one."

John finds it all unfurling before him, the coffin housing his fears unhinged.

(You, dead by your own hands or worse, made vulnerable to the brutes he works against. Not a possibility when you're linked to him like this, hallucinatory, unreal, but you – the you he saw earlier today – aren't any of those things.)

'You don't really believe that, do you?'

You're never so argumentative. He sucks his teeth, waving a hand through your hips. And it must snub you so, for you disappear like smoke beneath a cloudburst of rain.

No matter. He doesn't need the temptation finding him.

(That is, until an answer finds him first.)

He phones home for Mother's Day, and she asks for updates for any lucky miss he would call his.

In the borders of his vision, you're hunched over the persian rug that was a gift from an associate for a job well done. Your feet cross over each other, fingers working idly at pretending to braid the fringed edge. The sight gets the better of him, adorable, and he briefly considers switching his answer from the usual – wish you'd stop fretting, it's not doing your health any favours – until sense catches on. He wouldn't know how to deal with the questions.

"No."

"What a shame. I know you're busy with that job and all, John," Because his mother never addresses the big risk to her son's life by name. "but you really should work on making me some grandbabies, before I pass on to the earth."

"Please, mum. Don't start with that nonsense–"

"No! It's any day now, you know it as well as I do." She tuts. He remembers her hands – tracing cool patterns onto his scalp that night, back when he was five and only concerned with the best taste his mouth could fathom. He remembers, and thinks of the wrinkled stretch of them now. "Take this as my last word of wisdom! Family will be the one thing you have when those milking tosser's decide to do away with you. Family, John!"

He chokes back a sigh.

"Yeah. So you've said."

Family. So bloody simple, isn't it?

Iron-wrought key, right under his nose this whole time.

His last two pills frown at him from behind their orange confines, two-toned and unassuming. He could get more if he so pleased, but the hope is that they won't be necessary after tonight.

Carried by the bourbon that blazes down his gullet, they go down smoothly. Soon enough, you appear, summoned, as he laces his boots.

"Does it hurt you, sweet thing?" He finally asks, punching an arm through his windbreaker's sleeve. April showers carry bracingly after dusk, weatherproof attire a functional choice. 

That is to say, the towel in his pocket isn’t for him. 

You gain that elvish look to your face, of the same variety he fell in love with when you first appeared to him. He often forgets how otherworldly you can be; radiant, inhuman vision. Your mirror isn't so... remarkable. Frizzy hair, fleshly, bleeding behind round cheeks. Perhaps that's the appeal.

'F'course not. It is me, after all.'

"Is it?" The front door clicks behind him, new-washed breeze pushing it into place. It feels final, like casting his decision in stone.

'Hmm,' You pretend to think for a long, long while, prancing a solid two paces behind no matter what speed he sets. A new moon blights the fields around his home, sparse raindrops reflecting only your glowing figure. It lights the way until he reaches the skirts of town, when street lamps bleed gold down onto him. Only then do you speak again. 'I should think so, yes. Take a left here.'

John does as you say.

'Though she won't be as receptive to it all. Right.'

He turns right.

'You’ll have to decide how to deal with that.'

"I'd appreciate a few pointers."

'What do you think I'm doing, daddy?' You murmur, materialising before him as he comes up on an avenue known for its nightlife. 'Take a right here and keep going.'

"And you?" He asks, though he already knows the answer.

'I'll be there.' 

You are. Though you’re not alone. 

Two cretins crowd you into a brick wall, lanky arms anchored by your head to form a flimsy aviary. John hears their badgering a block away; crowing voices, placatory promises they wouldn’t be able to uphold even if they knocked back a viagra each. The wind carries it, works their whispers into fine dust. Powder. Negligible. He’s seen this dance before – this dreadful caper, a little bit of force behind what is otherwise an insipid show – but he’s usually above such drama. The men he keeps know not to ask for what they want. Not when it hazards a bird flapping out of reach. 

You’ve got to clip their wings, first.

Though you look like you’d be indebted to any sort of hero. The hem of your dress rides up your thigh, snapping away from restive hands. Shortening what is already… He resolves to admonish you about it later, traipsing closer to the scene. Given your ornament, he can’t blame these men beyond covetous reason, but he won’t topple it onto you either. 

Everything flays out before him. Of the bunch, you demand the slyest hand.

“C’mon, love. It isn’t that far of a walk.”

“Yeah. You’re pissed out of yer mind a’ready. Can’t go home now, huh?” 

“Would be so cute between us both.” 

“The best. Look at those wide eyes.” 

“Busy checkin’ out the arse on her, but I’ll get to her eyes in a minute.” 

Your face crumbles in on itself. He’s closer now. Can make out the mascara painting black tracks down your cheeks, lips smeared by the rain – or, the alternative, pecking vultures having claimed them already. Either way, a green-eyed serpent seethes in the curls of his gut, blood imbued venom coursing. He feels it wind, poising for attack, strength compressed into a tight ball of anger. 

Then, when one of them – ginger, juvenile – snakes a hand between your legs, it strikes. 

He rips his gun from the inner lining of his coat. The other kid is shorter, more on edge, so John doesn’t worry about the force it’d take to daunt him. When the cold press of his muzzle fixes to his companion’s temple, he dashes away with a pathetic screech, tripping over the loose ends of his shoelaces. Par for the course. Weasel.

The ginger isn’t so lucky. 

“You get off on scaring defenceless girls, lad?” He barks into his ear, one hand gripping both floundering wrists. The boy cringes, fear rattling his throat. Any response he tries to shape turns out a nasally wheeze. 

“P-Please-”

“Shut your fucking trap. You’d have a better shot at mercy carving your little cock off.” 

“I w-wo– we were just-t having fun. No harm… harm done, right?” The pleas recourse to you. In his periphery, John registers your frown. Half-hearted. Scared still – of both the unfamiliar, violent men. He peels the commotion two steps back to show he means no harm. 

(To his narrow definitions, of course. His plans for you constitute harm in anyone else’s book. He’s sure that, if you were wise to them, you’d slip in the other direction.)

“She doesn’t seem to think so.”

“No! No, p-please, p–” He silences the boy with a pistol-whip, blunt end of the gun breaking skin off his jaw. The message couldn’t have been clearer – twice now, he’s demanded silence – but no one seems to listen. His cries peak, out-of-tune in the pitter-patter shower. Tortured, like a mangled cat.

“Here’s what you’re going to do, yeah?” The air flutters around you. He’s trained to tread carefully, like you’ll disappear at any moment. Better make this quick, then. “You’re going to go home, lock your windows, and try to sleep with an eye open tonight. The young lady’s welfare matters more than your fate, but I don’t forget. There will be a time where I come to break every finger off your hand. Enjoy them in the meanwhile.”

Perfunctory, he shoves him to the muddy floor. Blood joins the streams sluicing to the sewers, inky swirls of gore a welcome sight. He hasn’t felt this alive since–

Well, since Serbia.

And the boy must see the predatory gleam in his eyes. The dead, inbred callousness. Shark out of the water. Knows what’s good for him as the fin breaks the surface, rows of teeth just underneath, because he runs off before they can snap around his clumsy legs. 

(You, on the other hand, don’t have that instinct. Instead, you blubber, seal on a floating icecap. 

And dive headfirst into his jowls.)

“T-Thank you, I can’t thank you enough. I- My friends left me and I didn’t have a ride home and no one was picking up my calls so I thought it would be safe to ask them, but I couldn’t have predicted how nasty they’d be. Really, they seemed like nice guys–” 

John censures you with a stare. 

“You should know better than to be out at this time.” 

He’s gotten good at imagining your responses. He needn’t hear what you have to say next. Before you can even open your mouth, the chloroform-doused towel in his pocket is out and pasted to your pretty face. 

There’s a brief pause where he expects you to fall through to the floor. But your body slumps, ragdoll boneless, right into his arms.

That’s what brings him here. 

Here: cotton rope hitching your elbows together behind your back, a column of square-knots parallel to both arms. It was what he managed while you were unconscious. Could have managed more – so much more, tick off the beginnings on a cosmic index of all the things he wants to fucking do with you – if it weren’t for patchy effort. He went a little rabid, see. Clipped off the leash, chain to the doghouse broken. Saw the time better spent fondling your supple curves, your body lax beneath his. 

Weakened or willing, it doesn’t matter so much as you’re corporeal. That he can.

(A book he bought as a much younger man details seven different ways to harness a chest. If he had a grip, he would have seen to it – your breasts purpling, ensnared in a lattice of his own construction. It’s this new, foul fascination. How many ways can a body bend before it breaks? He’s never been mindful of the line before, on the field, but he’s got one to do with as he pleases, now.) 

Little one. New toy, fix. His wife.

You process it all in your own time, sleepy eyes peeling open to find that you’re no longer in some dingy alleyway. Though your hair has yet to dry, he’s made good work of paring the damp dress off your form, the steady warmth of a fireplace making for a gentle come-to. John takes it as encouragement when a tired yawn splits your mouth, lips quirking up. Smiling. 

“Look at you.” He hums, thumb working quicker over your clit. With legs notched apart, your cunt’s been made vulnerable, bared to every ministration he couldn’t wait to inflict until after you woke. Thus you’re already weeping a steady stream of slick, folds lacquered in arousal. Leaking down the line of your ass, too. Desperate thing. He scrutinises the sloppy mess of it, doughy and swollen and wet, shoulders flexing over the possessive swell in his throat.

It’s comical, the turnaround. Reality overruns your face, peaky infestation from his carcass to yours. Your eyes well with teary distress as you take him in. What a monster he must make; frothy longing turned savagery, held too long under the blighted mass of his tongue. Festered. Ugly. He sees it himself in the contrast of his skin and yours. Where you’re satin, all incandescent sweat-slicked stretch, he’s 60 grit sandpaper. Sun-hardened leather and crooked scars.

“Hnmphh!” 

But he can ignore that. Doesn’t have to concern himself with rejection, not when the bit gag between your teeth renders you mute. Simple knot sandwiched by your molars. Subtle. He doesn’t want it to hurt today – not any more than necessary, at least – but conversation has gotten old. There’s a reason he brought you home. Why thick fingers work your hole, breaking it to house something bigger. He isn’t interested in soft-soaping anymore.

(The two of you have had your honeymoon already.)

No. Purpose, he thinks. His mum laid it all out for him. A family to bear you company during those long weeks he isn’t home. Family, linchpin to making this all work. To crowd this house with not just one, or two, but multiple sweet things that’ll extinguish the lonely flame at its hearth. He celebrates it already – boisterous corners, crowded kitchens, the cable he pays for finally being put to use. 

And you–

“Promise I’ll suck that pretty pussy like I promised, little one. Just– fuck- daddy just has to do something first, yeah? You gonna be good for me?” John huffs, shucking his trousers to fish himself out of his pants. 

Your muffled protests launch into something else entirely, feral defiance compelling your limbs like electric shock. It’s fusillade, violent devastation. Your legs flail, unhinged, compensating for the lost mobility in your arms. He manages to slip his fingers out of your clutch and tuck a hand under either knee, but not before your heel connects to his jaw. As is true on the field, adrenaline primes a strong kick. Metallic warmth swathes the inside of his cheek, strength waning for a second.

And through it all, you have the audacity to cry. 

When he regains his bearings, anger has supplanted care. He hoists your thighs up onto your chest, calves upright in the air, and pushes a knee forcefully into the space exposed. It flattens your cunt with the pressure, clit crushing in on itself. Agony bulges fine lines at your temples, veins bloating as a miserable scream tears from your throat.  

“I’ll cane your ass raw if you keep up with this. Strike your hole until all you’ll feel for weeks is your punishment. That what you want, mm? Want the memory of our child’s conception to be filled with pain?” 

His nose fits to yours, beard tickling the canyon of your upper lip. It's intense, the proximity. Heat flush between you, sustained fire you can’t pull away from. John watches the hesitancy flit over your eyes, the reluctance of a burn, breaths erratic and shallow. You didn’t breathe, before. Didn’t need to. But he finds that he likes the new rhythm of it. Like watching the life drain from a quarry, game bleeding out into Serbian snow. He never thought he’d miss hunting for survival – not until he had you pressed to his side, lured from those other predators into something much worse. 

(And perhaps that’s what’s been absent, all along. You used to come too easy, allowed him to grow permissive and lazy. But this– 

His skin fits the moniker again. Captain, revitalised in his bones.)

You shake your head no, just as he rubs his cock along your entrance. 

The feeding is effortless. You practically draw him in, needy for it, walls conforming to the fat intrusion until his head nestles against a hard spot. Steel-wool pubes tangles in your own, scratching the sensitive hood of your clit as he adjusts to the balmy suffocation. Tight. So fucking tight, more so than he could have imagined, your struggle working against you as it contracts the muscles around the area. 

His teeth knock into yours, borderline bruising kiss closing the gap. Should he give it a moment’s breath, his lips would swell blue. But he keeps you to him, your reluctant mouth slow against his own – impeded by the gag and your own stubbornness, snivels sucked into his gluttonous abyss. It tastes like seawater and vanilla, the wires crossing in his brain. 

This, he thinks, is the taste he’s been searching for all his life.

This petty space separating you, a carpet of chest hair laid over our thighs. Breathing one another in, memorising the scars behind your cheeks. Pistoning into your cunt, making room for himself in the years and years to come. He’ll never get enough of you. You’ll never get enough of it – once you learn to embrace the pleasure wrought out of you. 

In due time.

He batters parallel to your cervix, plunging deep as he can go. You’re slippery with the effort, wet where you thrum fierce, depravity stringing the oscillating gap of your mons and his pelvis. Binds you to him like gauze on a day-old wound, sticky and raw, and you must be a masochist if the stiffening of your joints is anything to go by. Your pupils roll, stupid, to regard the back of your head. Fucked dumb. Nerves snapping, limbic system miswiring. 

“Can’t wait to see my seed take, have you grow round and glowing.” He growls, speaking into your cheek. The faint hints of your cologne, long faded under rain and sweat, cram temptingly into his synapses. It’s all he can do not to take a whole bite of you, now that he can. Wants to see the evidence of his ownership mark your skin; violent, a little bloody. Physical. Carnal. Imperfect presence honing in the fact that it is better than none at all. 

“Mmmmff,”  

“Yeah? Want me to keep you pumped full of my cum? Think that would be nice. Plugging you shut. Maybe suspending you upside down so it’s a sure process. How does that sound, sweet thing? Y’like it?” 

Your feet thump weakly on his back.

“Then cum. Go on, be a good girl f’me.” 

And with the orchestration of it all; your already tense pelvic floor, the rippling liquid of your eyes, the stifled voicing of your plight– 

John can’t tell whether or not you do. 

You tire yourself out, eventually. 

It’s much later; the rise of a new morning flooding his home in sheer blues, illuminating last night’s mess. Without the orange glow of firelight, it looks a lot less romantic. Torn clothes, cotton fibres. Body fluids matting the pelts he uses to break up the floors. He would have it in him to blanch at the forfeiture of his self-control, cringe a little for appearance sake. He’s grown, now. Should know better.

But there’s no one around. No one. Just him, christening a loveseat instead of his wingback, and– 

You, knocked out on his lap, rope burns raw up your arms.

(When you wake again, he’ll make it official. A passing of the torch, so to speak, from one fix to the next. He hasn’t a band, or really any certification to make it legal. But–

The lit end of his cigar should do. Touched, fittingly, to the proximal length of your ring finger.) 

John’s always had his fixes. 

He finds he’s finally had his fill when you cradle his child close to your breast, and reach out a hand for him, too.

i do not have a taglist. to be alerted when i post / update, please follow @moondirti-archive and turn on post notifs.

[naturesapphic]

heyyyy!!! if u can could u write a fic where the reader and billie are best friends but it all changes when the reader jokes about calling billie “mommy” but billie gets turned on by it (turns into smut if possible) 💞💞💞💞💞💞

Mommy? Sorry? Mommy?

Billie eilish x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, mommy kink, fingering

“Billie!” You giggled out as billie was telling you a hook up gone wrong and the two of you were laughing y’all’s asses off about it. “Then- then! She she moaned out another girls name!” Billie said gasping dramatically which made you laugh harder. “Oh my God! That’s awful! How do you get with such weirdos?” You ask your best friend and she shrugs, fixing the hat on her head. “Don’t know but don’t get on to me! You hook up with weirdos too!” She laughed out, showing the metal in her teeth.

You roll your eyes playfully and shove her gently making her giggle. “Well it sounds like my weirdos aren’t worse than yours.” You clap back and she shakes her head. “What’s the craziest name someone called you during sex?” You ask Billie and she thinks for a moment. “Mommy.” She says bluntly and you stifle your giggle. “Mommy? Sorry? Mommy?” You tease and Billies face got red in the face from your words. “Say it again.” She spoke in a quiet whisper and you felt your whole body get chills. “Uh….mommy? I mean they weren’t wrong. You give off such huge mommy and daddy vibes so-“ you said but got interrupted by Billie’s lips ghosting over yours.

“B-Billie?” You whisper and she smiles, looking deep into your eyes. “I give off daddy and mommy vibes?” She asks, making sure she heard you right. “That’s what I just said yes-“ you said with a bit of attitude that made Billie roll her eyes but still had a smile plastered on her face. “I want to make you moan it.” She confessed and you felt your face go tomato red from her words. The two of you didn’t say anything for a few seconds until you surged forward and connected your lips with your best friends. Billie kissed back immediately and pushed you gently on your back so it hits the couch cushions. She pulls back for a moment and takes off her jacket, leaving her in her oversized shirt and pants. “Is this okay? I don’t want to go further if you don’t want this.” Billie asks with softness laced in her voice.

“Y-yes I want this. I want you bils…” you stated and Billie’s lips curved up into a huge smile that made your heart melt. She leaned back down to capture your lips to hers again and started taking off your pants, leaving you in your underwear. She rips your panties off and pulls away to look at you. “Fuck…so gorgeous…” she groans as she takes in the beauty of your glistening pussy. She goes back to kissing you and then starts attacking your neck, her hands go to your hips as she spreads your legs wide. Billie starts rubbing your cunt softly with her fingers, the coolness of her rings making you shiver and moan. “You’re so wet Angel…so wet for me…” she says in a low voice making your pussy clench. She inserts two fingers into you making you gasp out in surprise, your walls swallowing her fingers easily.

Billie pumped her fingers as she used her thumb to start attacking your clit. “O-oh….b-Billie!” You moan out and Billie stops her movements making you whine out. “Tsk tsk…you know that’s not my name baby…”. Billie reminds you and you whimpered. “Mommy..” you whisper and she smiles, pumping her fingers at an ungodly pace. You throw your head back and chanted mommy over and over again. “G-gonna cum mommy!” You moan out as you felt the tightness in your stomach. “Let go baby. Be a good girl for mommy and cum.” She sweetly instructed. You moaned at her words and came all over her fingers making her groan. She pulls out and places her fingers in her mouth, moaning at your taste. “Maybe you should call me mommy more.”

A/n: thank you for the amazing request anon! I hope you and everyone else enjoyed! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all! :)

[bones4thecats]

Hi hi hello! It's me 🧑‍🧑‍🧒 again, hehe. Your writing always sparks joy! And I have a new idea for a request (^w^)

Could I request Ace, Deuce, and Floyd with a reader who often patches them up or straightens out their hair/clothes for them whenever they get into some sort of mischief or fight? Like, they clean wounds and uses plasters or bandages with cute designs or fix crooked ties or collars. It's their way of showing affection (like a little cleaner shrimp haha)

I hope you have a wonderful day! Remember to stay hydrated (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

When Their S/O Straightens Them Out

Characters: Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, and Floyd Leech Requester: 👪Anon A/N: This is honestly so cute! By the way, like in my other Twisted Wonderland pieces, the reader is not considered to be MC (or Yuu Sei and I have dubbed him in my au) ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Book 1 Chapters 24-28 and Book 3 Chapters 33-39 (not fully-centered - just mentioned) and Mentions of speaking lewdly, fighting, injuries from fights, and physical assault leading to almost-permanent damage ⚠️

••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●•

»»———————————-　 Ace Trappola 　———————————-««

🪅 Ace has always had a big issue when it comes to relationships. It is literally canon that he had a girlfriend in middle school and when he lost interest he ghosted her till they broke up

🪅 But, when he finally met you, the first year began to seemingly become more mellow around you. Well, he was still a little rascal to others, but he loved to just sneak behind you a spook you instead of dunking buckets full of water on you

🪅 And he was the same until another Heartslabyul student began to get a little close to you. And by close, I mean by stating his care for you loudly during practices, oblivious to the fact that your boyfriend was a mere few feet away from him

🪅 Let's just say the jealousy bubbled over and he threw a basketball at his face, sending the other into anger. And to sum it up, you and the teachers were beyond pissed

"I mean what were you thinking?! You could've gotten suspended, and if you think Riddle would get super angry about a missing tart imagine a suspension!"

🪅 Ace sat there as you began to re-wrap his injuries from the fight, and seeing the fairly deep cuts and scrapes reminded you of when you helped the rest of your dorm and the magicless human and his pet cat against Riddle's overblot

🪅 He watched carefully and pretty much ignored your scoldings in favor of seeing your face flush slightly in anger and contort as you spoke. Ace may not seem like it, but he does love to observe you caring for him. Some would call that slightly creepy, but you found it flattering, he paid you more attention than his homework

🪅 You began to put the bandages away with the cleaning materials when you felt two arms hug you from behind and a man's chin lay on the top of your head

"Thank ya', lovely."

"Anything for the Ace of my Heart."

••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●•

»»———————————-　 Deuce Spade　———————————-««

♠️ Despite what he wants, Deuce does still have his delinquent urges inside of him. He is severely protective over you to the point where others would think that he was forcing you in the relationship. Thankfully you know better

♠️ He loves to see you happy, even if it means others make you that. But Deuce can tell what someone is really thinking. He spent quite a bit of his childhood around people who hid their true emotions, heck, he was even one of those people!

♠️ So, seeing this random Pomefiore student come up to you constantly and act as if he just wanted friendship, but in reality he was just trying to woo you over. Wanting you to leave Deuce for himself

♠️ Deuce was getting angrier by the day, so it was bound for his anger to finally take over and cause him to act out

♠️ All it took was hearing the other man speak awfully gross things of you in the changing room after Track and Field practice. And he took the first hit

♠️ Next thing he knew you were fixing him up and trying to heal around the collar that came from Riddle earlier that day. The housewarden had found out about the disagreement and yelled his signature spell's name, making you sigh in annoyance

"Dearest, I understand that you love me. But you shouldn't have put yourself through that kind of action, Great Seven knows if he were to press assault charges onto you!"

"Y/N... I'm sorry. I've tried so hard to be the perfect straight-A student for you, my mother, and grandmother and then hearing that- that bastard talk about you that way just made me snap. Y'know?"

♠️ You smiled gently as you laid the extra materials aside and held your boyfriend's face to look at you. You rested your forehead onto his as he sighed and hugged you back

"I love you so much, Deuce. Just the idea of you being minorly hurt, nonetheless severely hurts."

"Understood. I'll try to be a bit better, okay?" Deuce asked, his smile enlarging as you nodded and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you so much for loving me, Y/N."

••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●•

»»——————————-　 Floyd Leech 　——————————-««

🎭 When you first met Floyd during your first years at Night Raven College, you knew that you would feel sorry for his future one and only. Little did you know that you were that one and only

🎭 Everyone understood the memo when Floyd was around. Do not speak ill of him or someone he was close to, it would only result in the sadistic eel-mer to pop up and practically squeeze you until you had a permanent dent in your ribs

🎭 Unfortunately for a new Octavinelle first year, he viewed the rumors as dumb. He was obviously acting this way to gain attention in that way, there was no way that a puny-looking eel-mer was stronger than the gorgeous and powerful betta-mer that he was!

🎭 Over the passing couple weeks, you have been hiding every interaction close to flirting away from the Octavinelle trio, knowing that either Azul and Jade would tell Floyd in a heartbeat

🎭 But, again, sadly for that new student, Floyd was walking around instead of being on his shift -due to finding it boring- and found the male taking his hair, which was flipped onto one side, and attempting to use dark-red and white colors to attract you. And that was not just going to pass by Floyd like nothing

"Y/N! Who is this you're talkin' too? A new friend?"

🎭 The sharp row of Floyd's teeth poking out from his smile didn't even spook the other male. And when he tried to lay a hand on you, Floyd snapped and began to twist the other male's arm to the point it was on the bridge of breaking. He just smiled as you laid a hand on his shoulder and asked him to put the guy's arm down

🎭 He did and watched with amusement as the other being began to run away in pure fear, gripping his arm as the pain echoed. You just groaned and adjust Floyd's jacket and look over his hands for any kind of scrape from work or being an idiot

🎭 Floyd smiled with wonder in his eyes as you cleaned him up like a little shrimp. Kind of like the magicless guy from Ramshackle!

"Y/N~ Would you ever leave me for that little baby fish?~"

"No. Why, you jealous?"

"Psh! Please. I know that I'm better than all those other bottom feeders."

[sunflowersteves]

miguel and the reader holding hands under the table during a meeting 🥹

poor miguel is so scared people are gonna think differently oof their boss if (when) they see you holding hands so he hides it even tho the reader knows everything is 100% fine and everyone knows their together 😭😭

have a great day/night and stay hydrated!!

omg this is so so CUTE and don’t worry I did stay hydrated love <3

warnings || miguel is a softie, fluff, making out, gender neutral reader

Hobie knew, if not immediately, when there was something more than just friendship between you and Miguel.

He saw the stolen glances, the soft feather-light touches, and the smallest of smiles that perked up against Miguel���s lips. Hobie would look around, wondering if anyone else had noticed the newfound love.

Alas, after much diving, he comes to the conclusion that he’s the only true observer around. Everyone else seems absolutely oblivious to the butterflies that practically dance around you two—well, until you bring Miguel a gift one afternoon.

It was a particularly hard day for Miguel. Another mission had gone wrong and he wasn’t able to fix it this time. It seemed to him that mission after mission kept failing.

Hobie, Peter, Gwen, and Miles were going to be sent on a mission to clean up the gigantic mess that was left in another Spider-Man’s wake, according to Miguel. It was a harsh meeting—that’s for sure.

As if on cue from Miguel’s sour and proliferated choice of words, you walked in.

“Hi.” You said, smiling brightly. “I brought you empanadas.”

Everyone sighed in relief at the mention of Miguel’s favorite food. Maybe he will calm down just a little bit.

“Gracias, cariño.” He says, taking the to-go box from your hands. He thought nothing of it as the lightest touch caressed against the small of your back.

In the background, Miles gasped—he gasped so loud that Miguel’s head whipped over to him. “You and—Oh.”

Miguel could only stare, eyebrows raising by themselves in surprise. Miles’ eyes widened and he quickly shrunk into his form. “Nothing! It’s nothing. I-I just—saw a spider!” His eyes widened. Again. “But not like a—like a radioactive one or—“

Miles winces at the rambling that tumbled out of his mouth and immediately clamps his mouth shut. “It’s great. I’m great. Everything’s great.”

It was entirely unconvincing. Extremely, unconvincing. Peter and Gwen just raise their eyebrows at him while Hobie nods to Miles.

Miles’ eyes continue to widen at the sudden confirmation from his friend. He opens mouth to ask a million questions going through his head, but the straight glare from Miguel snaps it shut.

It wasn’t that Miguel was embarrassed to be seen with you or anyone in HQ. In fact, when he visits your universe, he can’t stop with the public displays of affection. His arm envelops you as you walk, his finger caresses the shape of your jaw as you talk about your day, his lips press sweetly into your shoulder on the subway ride home, and sometimes his fingers purposely brush and tap against your thighs at your favorite dinner spot.

He was so proud of the person you had become and endlessly encouraged you in your passions. He drooped all over you—practically—at every given point.

Miguel was obsessed with you.

His only issue was the idea of you getting hurt. There was no rhyme or reason, in particular, as why that related to everyone at HQ—but he knew that this was a dangerous responsibility to take on.

Since you, everything and everyone became a threat. He will be damned if he lets anyone take you away from him.

So, due to his fears, you both agree—with terms—to not tell anyone in the spider-verse. It was nice too when everything wasn’t a fuss. Well, until you continuously slip up.

~

After Miles and Hobie already figured it out, it was Peter’s turn—but this discovery was much more of a shocking scene.

You were in his office—lair—whatever he liked to call it, sitting perched on his lap. Miguel’s arms were tightly wrapped around your waist and your hands were locked onto his muscled shoulders.

His mouth was perfectly slotted over yours, his deep breath fanning up against your cheek. His tongue swirled deliciously against your own as you pressed further into his chest.

You break apart for just a second, “Miguel.” You whined. As if he was a drug, your lips leaned forward once more—whining for the millionth time when his lips dodged yours.

He chuckled, his lips trailing lazy kisses along your neck. “Patience, cariño. You know I’ll take care of you.”

Your lips felt too swollen and your body felt too heated for you to make a conscious reply. Too kiss drunk, you just say his name once more. It was more desperate this time.

Miguel smirks smugly before leaning his lips down to yours again. You taste so sweet as he licks to the inside of your mouth—wanting to feel your velvety tongue. He growls at the feeling of your legs wrapping around him tighter.

Without any caution, Peter swings into Miguel’s office—despite lyla’s many protests.

“Hey, Miguel! Do you wanna see more Mayday pictures because I’ve got tons and I know that you’re busy but—oh my god!”

He screeches to a halt when he finally looks up from his daughter’s hand tightening around his finger to the sight of you—on Miguel’s lap with your tongues down each other’s throat.

His hand instinctively slaps Mayday’s eyes closed, even though she was already fast asleep in his arms.

You both, in practically a millisecond, jump out of each other’s skin and stand five feet apart. “Oh I’m—I was just—looking for a file.”

Miguel’s hand ruffles through his messy hair. “Yep. A file. They needed a file.”

He stared blankly at the two of you for a couple of moments. Miguel had patches of bruises that fluttered against his neck and as you predicted, your lips were swollen.

Then Peter smiled—he smiled so large. “Sure.” He drags out. “A file. Yeah, that’s exactly what you needed.”

Miguel grumbled underneath his breath while you stood too shocked to do anything quite yet.

~

Lastly, Gwen was the last one to notice. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t have figured it out, but more so she had a lot on her plate at the moment. Unfortunately, she was distracted more than normal.

Luckily, this was going t o be a highlight of her week—you and Miguel. About fucking time.

Everyone was in a meeting—you, Miguel, Hobie, Miles, Peter, and Gwen. Under the table, without anyone knowing, Miguel slowly interlaced your fingers together. Your lips twitched at the feeling and you squeezed his hand.

When Miguel got nervous, his hand would try and find your figure. It didn't matter what—a pinkie, your whole hand, an elbow, you name it. As long as he could find the comfort of the soft plains of your skin, he knew he would be okay.

Gwen nudged Hobie and Miles. She whispered as softly as she could. “Are they holding hands?”

Her eyes widened at the nod both of them gave back to her. Peter just smiles—almost too brightly at the sight of his friends being happy together.

"Yeah they are."

Gwen glares at them the three of them before whisper shouting. “You guys knew? And you didn’t tell me?”

Peter, very cautiously without suspicion, raised a hand in defense. "Well, I didn't wanna tell—you know, because I knew."

She rolled her eyes at the older man. "You're ridiculous. That's definitely not true."

“I knew the whole time. It was pretty obvious.” Hobie stated, unamused.

The other three gasped and it caused you and Miguel to slight jump—no spidey sense and all. "And you didn't even tell us?" Miles scoffed. Gwen just started to cuss as she was fed up, these were her friends for fucks sake. Peter just sniffed and whispered, "how could you?"

Miguel bellowed. “Are you idiot-brains even listening?”

As if on cue, each of their eyes widened substantially. Their lips were sealed tightly and nodded. Well, except Hobie. Hobie just laid back slightly more in his chair. Miles had to ask him how to be more unfazed.

"Not at all, blue panther. Just take them out of here and have a proper date now, yeah?" With that, Hobie takes his leave, despite the protests from Miguel to come back to finish the debriefing of a mission.

Miguel felt hot. He felt very hot. The entire team had just witnessed the two of you and he wasn't sure what you thought about it. You bit your lip and stared into his eyes. He could only stare back in nervousness before the realization followed him and toppled over him like a freight train.

Oh, who cares, he thought. A la mierda, he thinks once again.

"Will you? You know," He says it almost bashfully. You couldn't believe your eyes. "Go on a proper, real date?"

You smiled, so wide. You didn't have to hide anymore. Sure, you've had plenty of dates, but he's talking about a real one. One where you don't have to shove yourselves in bushes and wear non-recognizable clothes.

You press your thumb into his cheek and stroke softly. "I would love to, Miguel."

He smiles this time—it was wide and all of his teeth shown brightly through his lips.

"Ew you guys are gross." "This is the cutest thing I have ever seen in my life. Mayday, did you see?" "Can you guys adopt me?"

Miguel groaned, "Please, get out." He pauses a beat, "Now."