Geto: So, How's Motherhood Treating You?

THE DAD WHO STEPPED UP! jjk smau

in which you're not home to send your kid off to their dads house for the weekend so your husband has to.

gojo, geto, sukuna, nanami, choso, and takuma

content: sfw, slightly suggestive (mentions of sex), multi-character, they're all step pappies :0 and do NOT like your ex.

a/n: requests open! don't forget to like and reblog (･ω･´)

Toji is living proof of the phrase "Don't judge a book by its cover." Because, how do you mean to tell me, this cold-blooded, ruthless man, is whom you call your husband? The father to your son? The blueprint for Little Megumi? You want to tell me, that, Toji Fushiguro, the man who used to kill for a living, is the same man who gets bossed around by a toddler?

Preposterous.

Originally, ten minutes ago, Toji was supposed to be sitting on the couch, nursing a bottle of soda, and watching the sports game he had been waiting for all week, but what was he doing instead?

Reading a bedtime story.

Megumi had dragged his father up the stairs, forced him to sit on the little frog-shaped stool next to his bed (which was way too small to fit a grown man), and read Room on the Broom—a story about a witch and her impromptu companions.

"C'mon, 'Gumi," began a hesitant Toji, as the stool continuously creaked under his weight; "it's past Halloween. Don't you want to read something else?"

"No! Wan' read Room on the Broom!"

"Hey. That is not any way to speak to your father, buddy."

Megumi crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back and falling against the pillows on his bed. "Hmph. I know why you don't want to read Room on the Broom."

"Oh, really? You do now?"

"Yeah," Megumi scoffed. "You're just mad that you wouldn't fit on the broom."

sukuna who is known to be huge and overpowering. his body built for violence and destruction and nothing more, nothing less.

ever since his youth he has learned the inevitable destruction he has caused and has made peace with it.

until now.

now, he holds his precious daughter in his arms. such a sweet, small thing that he created.

he finds it hard to believe when the nurse tells him that she's a little small than usual babies. coming from a giant like him it's strange that he's produced something so small and fragile.

the nurse reassures that it's nothing to worry about too much as she'll grow to a healthy weight over time.

'you birthed this little thing?' he murmurs, staring down at the child. her eyes are still closed, her screaming now coming to a stop. small and peaceful, something sukuna is foreign to.

'please don't call our child a thing 'kuna' you noted, your tone has no snappiness to it, exhausted from the birth. 'and you were by my side the entire what do you mean did I birth her?'

it's a stupid question. and he knows it but sukuna offers no reply to you, his eyes are glued to his child. she's quiet now in her father's arms as if he provides her the solace she's been searching for.

tiny arms and legs and even tinier fingers and toes, he can't believe it. the wisps of her hair and her lashes, every fine detail contains a part of him. so small and innocent, unlike her villainous father known to cause death and destruction.

it's like no other moment that has happened matters more than this.

as sukuna studies his baby girl he makes a promise to himself.

to look after and protect her at all costs.

no matter what.

Hello! I would love it if you could possibly write a cute platonic story for Harwin after the birth of his only daughter (reader) and spending what time he can with her despite trying not to raise suspicion. I just see him as such a happy girl dad 😊 Thank you!

Father's Oath

- Summary: Harwin often sneaks into Rhaeyra's chambers risking everything to see you, his daughter.

- Platonic Pairing: daughter!reader/Harwin Strong (father)

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Harwin Strong makes his way through the halls of the Red Keep. He moves silently, his footfalls muffled on the cold floor, careful not to disturb any guards on their nightly patrol. The weight of his armor would be a dead giveaway, so tonight he leaves it behind, opting for something less conspicuous. He isn’t the Commander of the City Watch here; no, he’s just a man sneaking through the castle to see his daughter.

You.

He finds the chamber easily, a door he’s passed countless times now ingrained in his memory. Harwin pauses for a moment, listening for any sign of Rhaenyra stirring, but all is still inside. Slowly, he opens the door just wide enough to slip through. The room is warm, the air thick with the scent of lavender and dragonfire, but his focus is entirely on the small wooden cradle near the bed. You’re inside it, bundled in soft linens, asleep, for now.

Harwin smiles as he approaches, careful not to make any noise that could alert anyone else. He has just a few minutes, maybe an hour if he’s lucky, before he needs to return to the shadows. His hand is large, calloused, but gentle as it moves to lift you from the cradle. You stir only slightly, a tiny yawn escaping your lips before settling back into the warmth of his chest.

“Did you miss me, little one?” he whispers, his voice barely audible as he sits in the chair by the hearth, cradling you against him. “I swear, I miss you every moment I’m not here.”

You don’t answer, of course, just a baby, but he feels your small fingers wrap instinctively around his thumb. The sight of it makes his chest ache in the best way, a fierce protectiveness swelling inside him.

Harwin knows he shouldn’t be here, not at this hour and not this often. The rumors, the whispers about you and your brothers, are already too loud. If anyone sees him slipping into Rhaenyra’s chambers, it would only fuel the fire. But he can’t help it. He’s missed too much already—too many firsts stolen from him by duty and distance. So he takes these stolen moments whenever he can, fleeting as they may be.

“You’re growing fast,” he murmurs softly, rocking you gently. His heart is light despite the weight of everything outside this room. “Soon enough, I won’t be able to sneak in like this. You’ll be crawling all over the place, causing trouble, just like Jace and Luke.”

The thought brings a quiet chuckle from him, imagining the chaos you’ll bring to Dragonstone’s halls. With your father’s strength and your mother’s fire, you’ll be a force to reckon with.

He lets out a sigh, eyes tracing your delicate features. You have your mother’s nose, but there’s something of him in the way you grip his hand, a stubbornness he recognizes in himself. His thumb gently brushes over your tiny knuckles as he whispers, "If only you knew how much I love you already."

The quiet moment stretches on, Harwin savoring it as long as possible, knowing it won’t last forever. His eyes flick to the door occasionally, listening for any sign of Rhaenyra stirring or someone approaching. But the night remains still.

“You won’t remember this, but…” Harwin hesitates, feeling a little foolish talking to someone so small. But he’s always liked the sound of his own voice, especially when it’s just the two of you. “One day, when you’re older, I’ll tell you about these nights. How I used to sneak in just to hold you. I’ll tell you how you used to fall asleep on my chest like this, without a care in the world.”

Another pause. The fire crackles softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room. Harwin leans back in the chair, closing his eyes for just a moment, breathing in the scent of you—milk, lavender, and something uniquely yours.

“I’ll also tell you about the trouble you’ll give me when you start walking,” he adds with a soft chuckle. “Your brothers are handfuls, but I have a feeling you’ll be my greatest challenge.”

As if in response, you make a small sound, a little murmur as you snuggle closer into his chest. Harwin smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. It’s moments like this that he wishes he could freeze in time, hold onto forever. But he knows better than anyone that time moves too quickly.

He glances toward the door again. He’ll have to leave soon. Too much time here raises suspicion. The thought makes his jaw tighten. He shouldn’t have to sneak around like this to see his own daughter. But the world is not kind to fathers like him—men who love children born of whispers and shadows.

But Harwin doesn’t care about any of that now. All that matters is you, here in his arms, safe and warm. He knows he’ll protect you, no matter the cost. He’ll fight for you, just as he fights for your brothers. And if anyone dares to threaten that, they’ll face the strength of a man who has everything to lose.

Leaning down, he whispers once more, his voice barely more than a breath. “I’ll always find my way back to you, little one. Always.”

And with that promise lingering in the air, Harwin reluctantly rises from the chair, carefully placing you back in your cradle. He adjusts the blankets around you, making sure you’re still warm, still safe. His hand lingers for just a moment longer before he steps away, the shadows calling him back to the world outside.

As he slips out the door, he takes one last look at you, already dreaming, unaware of the lengths he’s gone to just to hold you for a little while. Harwin smiles softly to himself before disappearing into the night, already counting the minutes until he can see you again.

❦ cw ; f!reader. fluff.

toji fushiguro had no intentions of getting married again. even when you came crashing into his life with all the love in the world for someone so stubborn and hardened, he could never get married again.

when you taught him to style his daughter tsumiki's hair and he saw the way her eyes lit up, that "never" became "unlikely".

when toji awoke one night to megumi crying out for you after a nightmare startled him and you came running at two in the morning, "unlikely" became "maybe".

when his daughter and son said goodbye on their first day of school and tsumiki called you her mom, "maybe" became "possibly".

when toji caught a bad flu and you stepped up to take care of the kids while continuing to shower him in love and care, "possibly" became "probably".

when megumi accidentally tore his most treasured dog plushie and bawled until daybreak, toji watched as you painstakingly taught yourself how to make a dog plush from scratch. he fiddled with the velvet box in his pocket as "probably" became "soon".

as toji stands at the altar, dressed to the nines and shuffling nervously, he catches a glimpse of his daughter with a flower basket, and his son with a ring pillow, both awaiting you in wonder. toji swallows nervously as music fills the room and he catches a glimpse of you, the woman who stole his heart and made him whole once more. the burly and stoic man quickly wipes a tear as he watches you walk down the aisle towards him, the most gorgeous sight he's ever laid eyes on. suddenly "never" seems so far away, and "forever" is all he sees.

masterlist

writing & format © starmapz. dividers © adornedwithlight.

YOU AND I TOGETHER, WON’T YOU HOLD ON TO ME — YUUTA OKKOTSU

cw mentions of children, pregnancy. so much of yuuta being happy and sappy :(( sorry i haven’t shutup about my little depressed lovesick boy making it out and living a full life. probably won’t anytime soon actually. satoru is alive and well in all my renditions of happily ever after and that won’t change either i fear  

Yuuta talks about the future often. A future with you, and him, and your friends, and a family where you’re all together forever and he gets to love you until the end of time. 

Sometimes, you think he doesn’t realize what he’s doing—dreaming about forever with you; but you can never find it in your heart to break his illusion. The boy who used to dread his next waking moment is dreaming and dreaming and dreaming, and making all of yours come true. 

It’s quiet in this part of the Gojo compound. The gentle sounds of a stream running through the garden, and chirping of birds are the only noises that disrupt your daydreams. 

Or, perhaps, fuel them. 

“I hope our kids aren’t afraid of birds,” Yuuta muses, wide eyes looking past your face up to the tall trees, full of happily singing bluebirds, “There’s so many of them here.” 

You’re gentle when you stroke his hair, taking advantage of his head in your lap to pull the longer pieces out of his eyes. 

Your smile is giddy, unfiltered. “Kids? Plural?” 

Yuuta hums with smile. His eyes remain on the sky, chasing a pair of birds that flitter between long branches. 

“Yeah. At least two, so they don’t get lonely,” he says, “They’ll have us, and their cousins, and sensei, and our friends, but they’re going to need each other at home.”

Yuuta lets his eyes fall to you at the end of his sentence, a sparkling smile on his scarred lips. 

“I see,” you smile, “At least two so they can be friends.” 

“Best friends,” he revises your statement, “So they can train together, too, if they want to be sorcerers. Or not. It’s fine, either way.” He blinks, eyes warm, “I hear that four is the happy medium for a family, but I think three is going to be easier inheritance wise, if sensei is serious about making me clan head someday.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah, but if a fourth comes along, I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” 

“I’m sure sensei will have made more than enough money for them by then.” 

Yuuta giggles, earnestly in your arms at that. “Of course he will.” 

You pause for a moment, committing his laugh to memory. His features flush slightly under your gaze, and you lean down to kiss his scarred forehead. You let your hands resume petting his hair, following in his gaze to look up at the birds. 

“Tell me more about them.” 

Yuuta doesn’t waste a moment, closing his eyes; letting you paint the picture in the sky for yourself as he talks. 

“The gap between the oldest and youngest is six or seven years. I think five might be enough, though. So, that means our middle one is about three when our littlest comes along.” 

“Unless a fourth happens.” 

Yuuta hums in agreement. “Unless a fourth happens. But we’ll have time.” 

You’ll have time, you nod. You have time now, you and him; all the time in the world. 

“A three year old and newborn sounds like a lot of work.” 

“Maybe. But we’ll also have a seven year old. He’s going to want to help with the baby, so we’ll have an extra hand,” Yuuta says, “And that’s not even counting sensei and the rest.” 

“He?”

“I think he’ll be a boy, the oldest. He might look like me, but he’ll act like you, so he’s going to be Kugisaki’s favorite.”

You find yourself choking out a genuine cackle at that. When you look down, Yuuta’s got a smile wider than yours. 

“He sounds wonderful. Like his father,” you confess, “But the idea of pregnancy thrice in a seven year span sounds exhausting.” 

“We can use surrogates. Or adopt. Or whatever,” Yuuta tells you, “Gojo-sensei will help us figure it out if we need help.” 

You have no doubt about that. And now, when you look back up to the sky, you can see vignettes of Gojo-sensei with your your seven year old on his shoulders, your middle child on his hip, and the baby gnawing at his legs. 

And then Yuuji is skipping into the scene, cooing at the youngest, picking him up and consoling him effortlessly. He carries the baby over to a crib with another crying newborn that looks eerily like Megumi, whose green eyes go wide at the stranger, then smile gummy as both babies reach for each other. 

Maki is there too, tapping your eldest on the shoulder with her staff and pretending not to have done it. Nobara holds up a shirt to the middle child, brassy in questioning Gojo why she told her that the baby would fit in this size that’s obviously too big, meanwhile the toddler ignores them both, fascinated with the marks on Toge’s cheeks as he plays peek-a-boo. 

It’s not hard to imagine. The scenes in your head aren’t wild fantasies or unattainable dreams—not anymore. 

“You want a big family.” 

Yuuta nods, reaching for your hand and pulling it away from his hair, and to his lips. “We have the resources for it now. Not just financially—we have time, and lots of friends, and lots of love.” 

Yuuta presses a kiss to the back of your hand, and you smile. He’s right, there’s more than enough love to go around. 

Having a baby with Geto

Finally get to write about Geto and include him in the babyfever series. Definitely doing a poll later for Sukuna and Choso so keep a look out !

Poll

when I find a brilliant, jaw dropping, amazing x reader fic but suddenly I’ve been given a first name, last name, hair colour and eye colour

satoru whispering sweet nothings to your swollen, pregnant belly every night, reading to it even though he doesn’t like to since it requires him to be calm and still (which he is anything but), yet finds himself somehow capable when it comes to the baby — his baby — in your stomach.

flipping through the pages with an air of ease, taking his time with every single letter and word that falls from his lips with additional care, even going as far as to teach him or her their alphabets just so his child gets a head start from the other kids in order to come out smarter.

you had to tell him it doesn’t work like that which he laughs off. nothing is impossible when it comes to his kid. their father is the best so therefore his offspring should be too, right?

being extra gentle when singing them lullabies right before bed time — you’ve never seen satoru sing softly like that to anyone but yourself. he’s never looked so at peace and serene — where your husband would usually be bouncing off the walls even at this time of night, he instead chooses to lay by your side, head rested in your lap from the moment he arrived home through those doors and into your arms, telling your baby bump all about his day.

and when satoru would complain about something or someone he didn’t like, he’d take it as a sign that when the baby kicked inside you as he spoke, that they were listening and agreeing with him as well, to which his chest would puff up with something akin to pride that your child was extremely intelligent and would turn out just like him.

you don’t know if you could handle two of him, though.

an original oc will be the favorite of many, but you, targ!reader daughter of rhaenyra, shall be mine