#sharp fe

[sieglinde-freud]

fire emblem fates if everything was the same except they were poly and in a throuple and had smartphones and were the main characters yup thats the caption im going with

[fire-emblem-birthdays]

[moe-broey]

Quick and rough Plumeria redesign, mostly just cause...... I gotta do what comes naturally to me, man. Give me some Shapes. Simplify that design or so help me.

I don't have a lot of complex thoughts about it, actually! Just the idea of having a "sexy" outfit that draws the eyes to certain parts of the body -- while simultaneously being modest and Sharp. Having an edge to it. Also!!!! The luna moth inspired wings!!! I wanted to stay within her og color palette, but I've also always thought luna moth wings would suit her... the top wing is vaguely heart shaped, too!

[l4verdoe]

CREIDNE STIMBOARD ´ཀ` reblog && credit to use. i. ii. iii. | iv. v. vi. | vii. viii. ix.

@seiliecourt: edit a character that you think is underrated.

[ronioli]

Pepsi daughter...

[be-xkyy]

𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝐷𝑖𝑙𝑓

Warning: sexual content, age gap (22-38), delusional behavior, non con, r4pe, dubcon, drugs used, breeding kink, somnophilia, lactation kink.

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★

Divider credits: @cafekitsune ★ @bernardsbendystraws ★

Masterlist

Yandere Dilf who divorced his wife and was given full custody of his infant son after she cheated on him.

Yandere Dilf who loves his son very much a sweet chubby three year old baby who is all giggles and smiles (he's really adorable).

Yandere Dilf who sadly can't take care of his son all day since he has to work so he decides to hire a babysitter.

Yandere Dilf who searches for babysitters online, rejecting one after another for the smallest reasons, he thinks about giving up until he finds your resume.

Yandere Dilf who thinks you're perfect not only are you pretty but according to your resume you know how to cook, clean and everything a good (wife) babysitter should know.

Yandere Dilf who can't help but notice what the last line of your resume says "I have a lot of experience taking care of babies since I have many nephews 😊" Do you have a big family? He does too! What a wonderful coincidence.

Yandere Dilf who has to hide his excitement when he meets you for the first time, he shows you around the house and explains everything you need to know about his child before you bring him over, he feels his chest warm up when you lovingly take the baby in your arms.

Yandere Dilf who feels happy when you quickly adapt to his and his child's routine, you two become close pretty quickly and his child adores you always laughs and gurgles when you hold him and sobs if you don't pay attention to him for too long.

Yandere Dilf who always comes home from work and is greeted with your delicious freshly made home cooked meal, it just solidifies the thought that you have feelings for him too (you're actually just trying to be nice after he tells you his sad story with his ex wife)

Yandere Dilf who one day tries to make a move on you, when you're cooking in the kitchen he hugs you from behind and you immediately tense up he pulls away a little and you look at him with confusion and discomfort which confuses him a lot.

Yandere Dilf who tries to kiss you and you dodge him backing away almost in panic, he apologizes when he realizes his mistake blaming it on the loneliness he feels from his divorce, you mumble an agreement before sneaking off to the baby's room.

Yandere Dilf who is in shock when you tell him the next day that this will be your last day as a babysitter since you will quit due to yesterday's incident, he feels a sharp pain in his chest, how can you do this to him? To his son? The little boy will suffer if you leave. Don't you know that the boy loves you deeply? You are his mother after all.

Yandere Dilf who pretends to accept your decision while apologizing again for yesterday's incident and offers to make you some tea as an apology he doesn't take no for an answer so you end up accepting grudgingly.

Yandere Dilf who while you stay in the living room he goes to the kitchen and prepares the cups of green tea adding a few sleeping pills in your cup which dissolves very well before returning to your side, he contains a smile as he watches you grab the cup of tea taking a long sip.

When you fell asleep on his couch he took you in his arms and carried you to his room but not before making sure that his son was still sleeping in his crib, then he goes back to his room and approaches his bed where you sleep peacefully, he leans over you kissing your face, your cheeks, your nose, your jaw... he leaves warm traces on your skin before he begins to take off your clothes, his skillful fingers undress you and throw the clothes to the floor with indifference, he sighs admiring your body his hands come closer and squeeze your tits pulling the nipples until they harden in his fingers.

"What beautiful tits fuck... they will look even more beautiful when they are full of milk to feed our children... but you will let daddy try a little of your nectar too, right honey?"

He murmurs as if you can hear him, before he leans in and takes a bud into his mouth, sucking and licking the flesh like a hungry man, he almost seems disappointed that nothing comes out of the bud, when he is satisfied with the attention he gave your nipple he pulls away with a “pop” the swollen mound glistening with saliva, he leaves wet kisses down your breast moving lower and lower until he reaches your wet clit.

"You’re so wet… I knew you wanted this too, I knew you wanted me too… your mouth lies but she is honest..."

His warm breath fans your pussy before he flicks his tongue out to taste your juices letting out a hum at the taste, he sucks on the sensitive nerve his tongue delves into your tight core, he pumps his tongue fucking you gently trying to loosen your walls a little, your juices wet his chin when he pulls away and he wipes them away with the back of his hand.

"I swear our next time will be much better darling, but right now I just want to make love to you"

He takes off his clothes throwing them on the floor next to the pile of your clothes, when he's naked he gets between your thighs placing your legs on his shoulders, pumping his thick shaft before guiding his bulbous head to your pussy rubbing up and down a few times before finally sliding in, he sighs as your rubbery walls clench and pulse around his cock.

"Ugh! This feels so good, I knew you were perfect for me... we belong together, I'll make you so happy..."

He moves rhythmically, his cock going in and out of your pussy with a squelching sound that fills the room, his balls slapping against your plush ass as his fat tip abuses your cervix, he presses himself tighter against you keeping your legs on his shoulders in a mating hold, his free hand pinching one of your bouncing tits.

As the pleasure builds inside of him his movements become harder and faster, his cock hitting your g-spot over and over again trying to reach the sweet pleasure so he can fill your womb with his seed, the thought of getting you pregnant with his baby and you all round and overflowing with the glow of motherhood makes him cum, he stays still nailed deep inside you as ropes of his warm cum fill the depths of your fertile womb, he caresses your legs.

"We still have plenty of time until you wake up honey so don’t worry daddy will make sure that by the time you open your eyes you will be a mommy and give our child a little brother or sister~"

[braindeadairhead]

🗑️

[ccwpidsblog]

crashing out — onyakopon

⭐️: nsfw 18+ in which you learn why your fiancé retired from his old ways

cupids arrows: if you’re new here pls ignore my old post 🙏🏾

Onyakopon was the chillest man you’d ever met.

You remember the first day you met your fiancé like it was yesterday. Your puppy had slipped her leash and bolted after the two of you got caught in the rain. Mud was everywhere—on her paws, on the soaked sidewalk—and you watched in horror as she ran straight for the tall, dark-skinned man with deep waves and glistening golden grills, his baggy jeans and fresh Dunks standing no chance against the chaos she brought.

The muddy paws left stains all over his jeans, and you were mortified. You snatched her up quickly, firing off apology after apology, even offering to clean his shoes and pants. You were so embarrassed you swear you felt your soul leave your body.

But he just shrugged it off, his low brown eyes soft, paired with a small smile that eased your panic.

“You good,” he said simply, his voice calm and mellow, while you were seconds from collapsing in shame.

That day never left your mind, especially after you somehow ended up in a relationship with the man. Ony was so... nonchalant.

You yapped his ear off from morning until sundown, never running out of things to say, and he never once complained. When you accidentally knocked over his grinder, spilling his entire stash of weed, he didn’t get mad—he just kissed you on the forehead to quiet your babbling apologies. When you bleached his Chrome Hearts hoodie, almost crying over it, he shrugged and said, “It’s just a hoodie. I’ll get a new one.” And he did.

He was a sweetheart through and through. He spoiled you, listened to you, and made you feel like you could do no wrong. Even when he proposed—after three years together—it was the most emotion and the most words you’d ever heard him say all at once.

Most of your love lived in unspoken gestures. A look, a kiss on the temple, his hand resting on your knee when you ranted about your day. You always seemed to read his mind before he had to say anything. And you were okay with it—Ony’s silence spoke volumes.

So when his friends sat around telling wild stories—about your Ony chasing some guy down three blocks for stepping on his shoe—you just blinked, completely dumbfounded.

“That was not my Onya,” you said, shaking your head.

It was one of those late summer days where the air felt heavy with heat and conversation. You and Ony were at one of Sasha’s backyard barbecues—loud music, too much smoke in the air, and way too many faces you didn’t know. You didn’t mind, though. Ony always brought you along, hand warm in yours, whispering low in your ear, “You good, ma. I got you.”

But today, Ony had disappeared somewhere in the crowd. Probably off somewhere smoking a blunt to cool. You didn’t mind. Coco was leashed at your side, her tail wagging as she sniffed around, and you were content grabbing a soda from the cooler, letting the afternoon sun warm your shoulders.

Until you noticed him.

Tall, built like Ony but rougher around the edges. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and something about him set you on edge.

“Cute dog,” he said, nodding at Coco, who barked happily.

“Thanks,” you replied, polite but wary. “She’s a menace, but she’s ours.”

The man chuckled, eyes lingering on you. Too long. “Yours and Ony’s, huh? Never thought I’d see the day Ony got himself all... domesticated.”

You blinked, thrown off by his words. “Yeah. We’re engaged.”

For emphasis, you lifted your hand and showed off the engagement ring sitting proudly on your finger. Ony had picked it out himself, saying something about it being “the only rock that could keep up with you.”

The man’s grin faltered for a second before turning sharp again, something ugly flickering behind his eyes. “Man... Ony really cleaned up. Bet you don’t know half of what he used to be on.”

You shifted your weight, suddenly uncomfortable. “Do you know Ony?”

Before he could answer, you felt it. The shift in the air.

You turned to see Ony stepping up, shoulders squared, jaw tight. His calm, lazy demeanor was gone, replaced with something cold and dangerous.

“Yo,” Ony’s voice was low, sharp like a blade. “What the hell you doin’ here, Ricky?”

The man, Ricky, smirked, completely unfazed. “Relax, bro. Just catching up with your girl. Didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to say hi.”

Ony ignored him and stopped in front of you, his hand gently brushing your elbow, like he needed to feel you there, steady and safe. “You okay?” he murmured, voice softer now.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, searching his face. “Who is—”

“You don’t talk to her,” Ony cut you off, his voice sharper again as he looked back at Ricky. “Ever.”

Ricky barked out a laugh, shaking his head like the whole thing was a joke. “Damn, Ony. You really changed, huh? Wife. Dog. Family barbecues. You think this erases all that sh*t we did? Think it makes you better than me?”

You looked between them, confusion swirling in your chest.

Ricky’s smirk widened. “You ain’t gonna tell her? About Kev?”

The name hit Ony like a physical blow. His whole body went rigid.

“Who’s Kev?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Ricky grinned, ignoring you. “The one who didn’t make it ‘cause we were out there actin’ reckless. But you remember that, huh?”

It happened so fast you gasped. Ony’s fist collided with Ricky’s jaw, sending him stumbling back.

“Ony!” you cried as Coco barked wildly.

The crowd turned, the music seeming to dim as Ony’s voice rang out. “Keep my name out your mouth!”

Ricky spat blood and grinned like he’d won. “Same old Ony.”

Ony let Eren drag him back, but his face was still tight, his body vibrating with rage. He didn’t stop to explain. He just scooped Coco into your arms and pulled you out of the backyard, his hand gripping your waist.

“What the fuck was that, Onyakopon?” you hissed as you reached the car.

“Get in the fuckin’ car,” he snapped.

The tone stunned you into silence. It was the first time in three years Ony had ever raised his voice at you. Before you could argue, he lifted you off your feet, set you in the passenger seat, buckled you in, and slammed the door. 

The ride home was silent, the tension so thick it choked the air. Ony’s jaw was set, teeth gritted as his knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. You sat stiff in the passenger seat, arms crossed over your chest as you stared out the window. Even the low hum of the engine felt deafening.

When you got home, the silence followed. Ony unlocked the door, opened it for you like he always did, and set your purse down, but his movements were robotic, like he was on autopilot. You didn’t move—just stood there staring at him.

Finally, you snapped.

“You don’t get to act like nothing happened, Ony!” Your voice trembled with anger, eyes blazing as you threw your hands up. “What the hell was that back there?”

Ony didn’t answer. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the couch, walking straight to the kitchen like he hadn’t heard you.

“Don’t walk away from me!” you shouted, following him. “Don’t you dare—”

“I said it don’t matter!” he barked, whirling around. His voice was sharp and raw, cutting through the air like a blade.

You flinched but stood your ground, refusing to let him shut you out. “How can you say that? That man knew you, Ony. He knew things about you I don’t! And the way you hit him? Who was that?! Because it sure as hell wasn’t the man I know!”

Ony ran a hand down his face, pacing back and forth. “You don’t need to know that part of me.”

“Why?” you shot back, stepping closer, fists clenched at your sides. “Because you’re ashamed? Because you don’t want me to see who you used to be?”

He stopped dead in his tracks, his chest heaving as he looked at you, eyes dark and stormy. “It ain’t like that.”

“Then what is it, Ony?” you pushed, voice trembling. “You can’t stand here and tell me you love me—ask me to marry you—and then keep this huge part of yourself locked away like it doesn’t exist.”

“You don’t get it!” he snapped, voice booming. “I was reckless, alright? I was a dumb kid, running around, doing shit I ain’t proud of. You really wanna hear how bad it got? You really wanna know the kind of man I used to be?” His voice cracked, his fists shaking at his sides. “I ain’t that man anymore. I can’t be.”

You stared at him, your chest tight with a mix of anger and heartbreak. “I want all of you, Ony,” you whispered fiercely. “Not just the version you think I deserve. I don’t care how ugly it gets. I’m not some fragile thing you need to protect from the truth.”

He froze, shoulders slumping as he stared at you, something breaking behind his eyes. “I’m tryin’, ma,” he said hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m tryin’ so damn hard to leave that shit behind. You don’t know what it’s like, carryin’ that with me every day. Losin’ Kev... I don’t ever want to feel that again. I don’t want you to look at me like I’m some monster.”

Your face softened, tears spilling as you stepped closer. “I’m not gonna look at you like that,” you said, your voice shaky but sure. “But I need you to trust me. I need you to stop pushing me away.”

Ony’s gaze flickered to yours, the fight finally draining out of him. He let out a long, unsteady breath and sank down onto one of the kitchen chairs, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his face.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice rough. “I’m sorry I scared you back there. I just... when I saw Ricky talking to you, all I could think about was keepin’ you away from that part of my life. Away from him.”

You took a deep breath, the anger still simmering but softened by his words. “I’m not going anywhere, Ony. But you gotta stop keeping me out.”

He looked up at you then, eyes raw and vulnerable. “You deserve better than the mess I used to be.”

You stepped in front of him, taking his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. “You’re not that man anymore,” you said softly. “I see you, Ony. I see who you are now. And I’m here because I love you—all of you.”

His expression cracked, something deep in him finally breaking free. He let out a shuddering breath, his hands sliding up to rest on your waist. “Damn, ma,” he whispered, his voice thick. “I don’t deserve you.”

You shook your head, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Stop saying that.”

Ony’s hands tightened on your waist, his eyes holding yours. “Let me make it up to you,” he said softly, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You blinked at him, breath hitching. “Ony...”

His gaze darkened, the tension between you shifting—charged and electric. Slowly, he stood up, his towering frame forcing you to tilt your chin up to keep looking at him. He leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss so soft it made your knees weak.

“Please,” he murmured against your lips, his voice husky and full of promise. “Let me make it up to you, baby. I got you. Always.”

His hands slid up your sides, slow and deliberate, his touch both gentle and possessive. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he deepened the kiss—soft and tender at first, then hungrier, like he couldn’t get close enough to you.

“Ony,” you breathed, your voice trembling as he kissed down your jaw, his lips trailing warmth along your skin.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your neck, his words punctuated by soft kisses. “For everything. I swear I’m gonna be better. You just gotta let me show you.”

You swallowed hard, your hands gripping his shoulders. “Show me, then.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes searching yours. “I will,” he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “Starting right now.”

And that’s how you found yourself lying back on the bed, your body a tangled mess of need and warmth as your fiancé, lost himself in your ocean. His hands gripped your thighs with a possessive force, pulling them up and against your chest as his tongue worked in ways only he knew how to, bringing you to places you’d only ever reached with him. Every motion was deliberate, skilled—each flick, each touch of his fingers pushing you further, deeper into pleasure. His strength held you in place, leaving you no space to escape the sensations he stirred in you. His mouth, hot and insistent, tasted you, marked you, as if he couldn’t get enough, as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

The pleasure became too much. Your body jerked, squirming away from the relentless skill of Ony’s tongue, but he was quicker, stronger. His grip tightened on your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. His large palm landed on the side of your thigh with a sharp smack—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you freeze and gasp.

“Where you think you goin’, mama?” His voice was low, husky, as he leaned up, his lips and chin glistening with your essence. His golden grills caught the light, making him look both dangerous and divine. “Why you runnin’ from me? I’m just tryna apologize.”

Your whine came out incoherent, the words caught in your throat as his dark, smoldering eyes stayed fixed on you. He towered over you now, his body an imposing figure as he crawled over you, caging you beneath him. His breath was hot against your cheek, and you stared up at him, dazed, your vision swimming with glassy tears of overwhelming bliss.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his lips pulling into that half-smile, wet and sinful. His smooth, dark skin gleamed, catching the dim light in a way that made him almost unreal, too beautiful to belong to one person alone—but he was yours. Completely yours. “So fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he praised, brushing a thumb over your cheek to catch a stray tear.

Your body trembled as he shifted, lining himself up with slow precision. Then he pushed into you, your shared groans filling the room as he sank in deep. Your fingers clutched at his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he stretched you perfectly.

“My pretty fuckin’ wife,” he growled against your lips, his voice thick with possession and reverence.

You didn’t have the strength to reply—just a soft moan as your legs locked around his waist, anchoring him to you, letting him take you to where only he could.

The slow, deliberate roll of Ony’s hips sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you trembling beneath him. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered, “You feel so good, baby. Perfect—just for me.”

You could only moan in response, your hands sliding down his back, nails raking gently across his skin. Every movement he made was precise, deliberate, and meant to unravel you. His pace quickened, his control slipping as he pushed deeper, his grunts mixing with your cries.

“Ony,” you gasped, your voice breaking. Your legs trembled as you wrapped them tighter around his waist, desperate to feel all of him.

“I got you, mama,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Ain’t lettin’ go. You hear me?” His words were both grounding and intoxicating, pulling you further into the bliss he created with every stroke.

The heat built between you, your breaths turning shallow and ragged. Ony’s forehead rested against yours, his dark, hooded eyes never leaving your face. “Look at me,” he commanded softly, his voice deep and low.

Your glazed eyes fluttered open to meet his, and the intensity in his gaze made your chest tighten. “I love you,” he said suddenly, his voice raw, almost breaking.

The words hit you like a tidal wave, a sob catching in your throat. “I love you too,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as your hands cupped his face.

His lips met yours in a searing kiss, his pace growing erratic, matching the desperate beat of your heart. “You’re mine,” he growled against your lips, his movements growing sharper, deeper. “All mine.”

Your body tensed, pleasure coiling tight in your core until it finally snapped, sending shockwaves through you. Your back arched as you cried out his name, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Ony wasn’t far behind, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep, a guttural groan escaping his throat. His body shuddered against yours, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he whispered your name like a prayer.

For a while, neither of you moved, the only sounds in the room your mingled breaths and the faint rustle of the sheets. Ony’s weight was solid and grounding on top of you, his hands still gripping your thighs as though he was afraid to let go.

Finally, he shifted, pressing a gentle kiss to your collarbone before rolling to the side, pulling you with him. He tucked you into his chest, his large hand splaying across your back.

“You good, mama?” he asked softly, his lips brushing against your forehead.

“More than good,” you murmured, your voice still shaky. You tilted your head up to look at him, your heart swelling at the tenderness in his gaze. “I love you, Ony.”

“I love you more,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. He kissed you again, slow and sweet, before resting his forehead against yours.

As your breathing evened out and sleep began to tug at your senses, Ony whispered, “Ain’t nothin’ in this world I wouldn’t do for you, baby. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you replied softly, nuzzling into his chest. “And I’d do the same for you.”

The last thing you felt before drifting off was Ony’s fingers tracing lazy circles on your back, his lips pressing one last lingering kiss to your hair.

[xazse]

not rlly a request but it can be if uw??

I can't stop thinking abt kitty hybrid user and some big cat hybrid gojo (snow leopard, tiger, lion, etc). Suguru originally had hybrid Gojo as a pet, but then found kitty reader and decided to adopt them, and the moment Gojo sees them, he instantly decides that reader is his mate, and just follows them around like a dumb puppy. He'll cling onto reader and groom them all day, licking their fur and their face and not stopping even when reader complains or when Suguru tries to step in. Gojo is super super possesive of reader, and insists on eating, sleeping and bathing with reader, and will start shredding cushions or other things if denied. He's a big cat, so his claws do some serious damage to furniture, so Suguru has no choice but to give in if he doesn't want to spend everything in his bank account to repair the damage. I'd imagine Gojo and reader would have a similar dynamic to your puppygirl and wolf Gojo fics, but Gojo is the one teasing and getting all over reader. Reader's just too innocent to realise what's going on, so they just let Gojo do whatever. Thanks for reading my little blurb, I just needed to get it out!! Hope u have a nice day ❤️

The Preakness in this needs to be studied omg

I want to expand.

KittyHybrid !reader x Tigerhybrid!Gojo

Satoru really thinks he owns you like literally thinks you were bought just for him when that’s not the case, well yeah you were bought for companionship but Suguru also got you because he felt the house was too manly? It would be nice to have a girl around. So he got ur little cute self, at the hybrid facility you were the sweetest thing ever, you’d lay yourself all over Suguru in a ploy to go home with him, he of course gave in.

The first few days he has to keep you separated from Satoru for obvious reasons, Satoru is extremely protective over the house, Suguru can’t have any company over besides Shoko who he tolerates in his space. When he first smelt you he was angry, he couldn’t tell you what you were so he was on edge, the thing is he had only smelled you not seen you.

Suguru has you in another room letting you get familiar with Gojos scent and also letting him get familiar with yours, Gojo really won’t leave the locked door you’re behind alone he’s constantly coming near it to sniff and try to unlock it, Suguru has to guide him to get away from it every single time.

When he does meet you a warmth blooms within his chest, women are such a rarity for Satoru especially other hybrids, you don’t come from the same family as him but he’s so obsessed.

He insists that he have an hour licking session of him using his slimy tongue to clean you even though you really don’t need it! Everytime you try to pry him off in a whiny tone he’s hearing none of it. It gets to the point where you have to whine for a suguru to help you: he does but Satoru has the meanest fucking expression on his face when you’re pried from his arms. He goes on to have an attitude for the rest of the day.

You’re so right about Gojo scratching couches with his sharp claws in retailiation, he gets soo clingy with you, so angry when Suguru separates you it’s so bad that like you said Suguru doesn’t want to deal with him ruining expensive things around the house, that doesn’t mean he’ll let Satoru do whatever he wants with you there are some limits.

Most of the time you’re nice and pliant in Satoru’s lap, you don’t fight back when he carries you around the house simply just letting the huge tiger do what he pleases.

You don’t seem to mind when he rubs himself all over you, purring so loudly because he’s just that obsessed with the docile kitty.

Tiger!Satoru loves your little cunt just as much as he loves the rest of you, he’s only gotten to feel your warm insides once because that’s where Suguru drew the line hard. It was the best day of his life, all you did was mewl below him while he stuffed you full of his fat cock, he came so quickly that night.

He craves to feel you again but Suguru stood his ground, he’d get rid of you if it came to that again (not that he wanted to, Suguru really loved having you around the house it was just an empty threat that seemed to work)

Tiger!Satoru will settle for licking and giving you nasty slippery kisses!

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Unlikely Hero

Summary: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Fe!Reader -> You're in labour and nobody is picking up, so you're forced to call someone you never thought you would have to.

Disclaimer: Descriptions of labour and birth, Jake takes care of the reader and shows up for her when she needs him the most, really cute moment at the end, illusion to romantic feelings between Jake and the Reader, found family in the Dagger Squad. Not Proof Read.

Another contraction ripped through you. If you weren’t already white knuckling your kitchen counter, you would have been with this contraction. 

With a groan, you tried to remember your midwife’s advice. Lean into them, breathe and count. Lean into them, breathe and count. Lean into them. Breathe. Count. 

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” You took a sharp breath in as you threw your phone onto the counter. 

“This is Bradley. Leave your message-”

You groaned and hung up, again. 

“Hey, this is Nat-” 

“You have reached the number of-”

Placing your elbows in front of you, you pressed the heels of your hands into your head as you leaned on the counter. Somebody - anybody had to be available. They weren’t on duty today. 

Lean into them, breathe, count. 

Lean into them, breath, count. 

Lean into them, breathe, breathe, breath, count, count, count, count.

You scrolled through your phone contacts. You couldn’t exactly call your family since they were states away. The only family you had close by were your friends. But none of them were picking up. 

Then you got to one of your contacts. 

You weren’t friends exactly but…when the time called for it…

Three rings. 

Four rings. 

Five rings. 

Six-

“Y/l/n?”

You practically cried out a sigh of relief. “Jake? Jake, please tell me that’s you and not your machine.”

“Yeah, it’s me. What’s up? Why are you calling me and not the others?”

“Because they’re not picking up.”

“They’re down at the beach. I was just heading there if you want me to-”

“No. No, no. I-I need you.”

Jake went silent. “What?”

Breathe. Count. Breath. Count.

“Listen, Y/n, I know me and you have been starting to get along and whatnot but-”

You let out a groan. “I’m in labour, Jackass.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, oh shit. Just-” Lean into it, breathe, count. “Can you please come here? I’ve called my midwife but she’s with someone else right now and…” You went quiet for a while. All Jake could hear were your deep breaths. “And I don’t want to do this alone. My contractions keep getting closer and I…”

“I’m on my way.” 

You could hear Jake rushing around his house, grabbing his jacket and his keys. “I’ll call the others and leave them a message. Hang on tight, I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you.”

As Jake pulled away from his house, he called those who needed to know – leaving messages with all of them. He even called Amelia. 

“Where are you right now?”

“At the mall. Mom’s picking me up later.”

“I’ve left her a message but if you see her before let her know Y/n’s in labour.”

“She is?!”

“Yeah. I’ve left a message with the others but in case they don’t-”

Amelia nodded. “I’ll let them all know. Hey, tell her good luck for me.”

Jake smiled. “Will do, kiddo. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Ten minutes later, he pulled up outside of your house and ran in through the front door. 

“Y/n?”

“Kitchen!”

As he got inside, he found you hunched over the kitchen counter, your eyes closed, one hand on your stomach as your legs started to shake. 

“Okay, I’m here. I’m here.”

You reached out for him without thinking and with his forearms under yours, he helped support you as you stood up steady. 

“I’m sorry-”

Jake just shook his head. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Now, what can I do?”

“Just stay with me.”

“I can do that.”

Over the next twenty minutes, Jake helped you walk down the hall in between each of your contractions. 

Then the shakes started. 

With you leaning over one side of your bed, Jake rounded the bed until he was on the other side and facing you. 

“I-I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes, you can.”

You shook your head, the shakes becoming more intense. Jake pulled his phone from his back pocket and opened it up as he kept his eye on you. He squeezed your hand. 

“No-o.”

Jake smiled at you. “You have seen every injury me and the Dagger Squad have gained in the last three years. You have dealt with a Hangry Rooster and a Pissed Off Phoenix. You can do this.”

It took you a minute but you finally agreed. “Wh-Who are you…” You tried to stop shaking. “Who are you calling?”

“Your midwife.”

“How do you have her number?”

“Penny gave it to us all, in case of an emergency.”

“She did?”

“Yeah.” Pressing the dial, Jake put his phone on speaker and laid it on the bed. Three rings and then she picked up. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, this is Jake Seresin. Penny gave me your number for Y/n-”

“Ah, yes. Is everything okay?”

“Kinda. It’s just, Y/n’s in labour and she’s started shaking. It’s getting more intense.”

“Yes,” you midwife sounded calm. “That’s normal. It means she’s progressing nicely. I’m just finishing up with a new mom but I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Then she hung up. 

“Soon as she can? The baby’ll be here before that.” Jake mumbled, annoyed, under his breath. But you heard every word and you laughed a little. 

Jake smiled, hearing your laugh. 

“Ooh, ow. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.” 

“Okay, it’s okay.” Jake held onto your hands firmly as you got hit with another contraction. 

Another thirty minutes passed. 

Jake had rubbed your back, walked you up and down your hallway corridor from the living room and kitchen and back to your room. He’d called the midwife three more times before she finally explained she was going to be later than usual since she had suddenly been called away to deal with an emergency home birth closer by. 

Once he’d helped you back onto your bed, your shakes started to get worse than ever until finally you had the feeling that you needed to push. 

“Push? Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I-I think so. I-I’ve never…had the feeling before but I feel like I need to push.”

All the colour drained from Jake’s face in an instant. “O-okay. Right, uh, what-what do I-”

“Jake! Jake! Y/n!”

Penny’s voice. 

You both relaxed at hearing her voice. 

Despite the colour draining from him, Jake would have helped you deliver your baby. You knew he would have done it. But the idea of it even worried you a little. For one, you’d both only recently gone from respectful mortal enemies to friends. You weren’t quite sure your friendship with him equated to him seeing everything. 

“Oh, thank god.” Jake turned towards the door. “Penny! We’re in here!”

There were more than just Penny’s footsteps as she came barreling down the hall. “I am so sorry. My phone has been on silent- Amelia told me when I picked her up-”

“It’s okay. You’re here now. But, I-I think I need to push.”

Mav came behind her, white as a sheet. “Don’t- Don’t you need a midwife for that?”

“We can do it.” 

He looked at his partner. “You can?”

“I did with Amelia.”

“You did?” 

“Uh, where is the midwife?” Bradley asked as he appeared behind both of them. 

Jake had his hands on his hips. “I’ve called her but she’s been pulled away somewhere else.”

Penny looked around and kicked everything into action. She gave instructions to Jake and Bradley but then you stopped them. 

“N-No. Jake, stay, Please.”

One look at you and he nodded. “I’m right here.” He took your hand in his. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Okay, Bradley, go and get Natasha. She’ll help you.”

After the momentary shock, Bradley called for Phoenix down the hallway and Penny clicked her fingers in front of Mav’s face to get his attention away from you and Jake and back onto what she was asking. 

“Are those two-”

“We can ask questions later, just go and get what I need.”

Then Penny turned back to you and Jake. “This is gonna feel really weird and incredibly painful, but I promise you, once we’ve got this baby in your arms, you’re gonna forget all about it.”

“Promise?”

Penny chuckled. “Promise.”

Within seconds, she had everything she needed. Penny slipped on a pair of gloves from your supply stock and had you bend your knees so she could check. 

“What? What is it?”

“It’s nothing to worry about, but you’re right about feeling like you want to push. Your baby is starting to crown.”

“They are?”

Penny nodded. 

“Okay, Mav, I need you to get the towels ready and-” He was turning whiter as the seconds rolled by. 

“I don’t think I can do this.”

Penny chuckled and took the towel from him and rested her ungloved hand on his shoulder as she led him out of the room. “It’s okay, go and get Natasha and tell her to come in here.”

Natasha walked inside your bedroom a few seconds later, the towel ready in her hands. 

“Hey, are you ready for this?”

“Nope.”

“You’ll do great.” 

As Penny and Phoenix focused on helping your baby, you turned to Jake. “Please don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Sweetheart. I’m right here.” The grip he shared in your hand tightened as his eyes fixed themselves to yours. “Promise.”

“Good.”

Then labour finally started to pick up. Jake remained by your side as he supported you and your back all the while Penny instructed you on when and when not to push. Phoenix gave you an excited running commentary about what was happening and what she could see as you gave birth. 

The excitement in her voice made you relax a little. 

“That’s it. Keep going. You’re doing amazing.” 

After almost an hour, and one final push, Penny and Phoenix were tying off and cutting the umbilical cord before cleaning off your baby and noting the time. 

“Welcome to the world, baby girl.”

Everyone was crying, including your daughter as she was passed over to you for the initial skin to skin contact. Meanwhile, you looked from your baby then to Jake. 

“You did it. I told you, you could.”

You smiled and leaned into the kiss he pressed onto your forehead. “Congrats, Momma.”

As Phoenix climbed across the bed from the otherside in order to cover you and your baby up with a fresh and soft towel, Penny helped with your placenta. 

Forty minutes and a check over from a nurse who lived a few streets away from you, who also knew Penny, you were sitting up in bed, holding onto your baby as she slept. 

“How are you feeling?”

Penny had given you and Jake a minute alone whilst she explained everything that Phoenix had excitedly ran through to the others. 

“Tired. And…incredible.” You couldn’t take your eyes from your daughter. “After all this time…she’s finally here and more beautiful than ever.”

Jake smiled as he looked at you, his eyes following yours before he finally looked back at you. “Just like her momma.”

The meaning behind his comment didn’t hit your ears until a few seconds later. You looked up at him and smiled. 

Then a small, soft knock came to your bedroom door. Reuben popped his head through the door. “Hey, feeling up for some visitors?”

You smiled. “Come on in, guys.”

Before you knew it, the whole Dagger Squad were entering your bedroom. 

“Jake?”

Without needing to say, Jake took your daughter from your arms before he stood up, Reuben standing in front of him, excited to hold your baby. 

“My god, Y/n. She’s gorgeous.” Carefully, Jake handed your daughter over to Reuben who held her securely in his arms before posing for the camera Penny was holding as she took more than a dozen pictures. 

“Hello, little one. Oh, my god. She’s holding my finger.” Payback smiled. “Okay, Rooster? Come on. You gotta hold her.”

Stepping around Phoenix, you smiled as you watched Reuben slowly hand your daughter over to Bradley. 

“She’s so small.”

Penny and Mav smiled. “It’s crazy to think you were that size once.”

The others laughed, as did Rooster. 

As your baby was passed to each person, Reuben came by your side and laid a hand on your shoulder before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Want me to get you anything? Sushi? Big Mac?” Rooster asked. 

Before you could answer, Penny spoke up just as she took a photo of Mav holding onto your baby. 

“Wait, wait, wait. We need a big family photo. Come on.”

Thankfully, the sheets had been changed. So, handing your baby back to you, you pressed a few kisses to her head as the others all got situated and directed on where to sit before Penny finally rested the camera on top of the dresser and set a timer. 

As you leaned forward, Jake placed his arm around you to allow you to get more comfortable. Phoenix sat beside you, Payback behind her, Fanboy was beside him along with Bob. Rooster and Coyote as well as Mav were beside Jake. Amelia was slotted in between Jake and Rooster before Penny finally rushed around to kneel behind Fanboy. 

The camera finally flashed, everyone’s smiles being captured in the picture. 

Not long after that, Rooster and Jake headed out of the door to go and pick up your food of choice. The others helped clean your home in the places you weren’t physically able to reach when you were pregnant whilst Penny closed the bedroom door and helped you with latching and breastfeeding. 

A half hour later, Jake and Rooster walked back inside with three shopping bags each as well as the food. 

“We went in to get you some extra things to help and I found this. I couldn’t not.” Bradley pulled it out of the bag and showed you. It was a onesie with the saying “Co-pilot in Training.”

You smiled. “Oh, my god.”

As people started getting up and getting food, Jake brought yours over to you. “Here you go.”

“Oh, my. You’re a saint. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Jake smiled. “I got her something, too.”

“Jake, you didn’t have to-”

He just smiled and spoke softly as the others started to divvy up the food. 

“I know. But I wanted to.” Then he pulled it from behind him. And you were in shock. 

“Oh, my god. How the hell did you find this?”

Jake smiled as he passed it over to you. “Whilst Rooster was getting lost in the clothing section, I asked one of the workers if they had any old stock.”

You felt yourself cry a little, out of sheer happiness. Jake smiled and wiped away the tears with the back of his finger. 

“This is incredible. Thank you.”

Jake smiled. “Anything for you and the kid.”

You held onto his hand. “I mean it, Jake. Thank you.”

Holding onto your hand, he smiled before leaning down and pressing a kiss into the back of your hand. 

What he had bought was the very same baby blanket he’d walked in on you researching one afternoon in the medical wing at the base. It was one you’d owned when you were a baby but the company had stopped making the pattern years ago. But, when they brought out a ‘Throwback’ stock, you searched every store to try and find the same one. 

But each store had been sold out. 

“Eat up, I’ll be back in a minute.”

From the sofa, your eyes looked from Jake to the blanket, to your daughter before looking over at Jake. And he looked back over his shoulder to you and smiled at you from the kitchen. 

Little did you know, two years on, you’d be lying on the sofa watching Jake and your daughter make you a Mother’s Day breakfast together, trying their best not to wake you up before eight in the morning. 

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 10.2k DON'T FORGET TO READ PREVIOUS CHAPTER tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation series masterlist < previous chapter< next chapter

“You’re not serious.”

“Himari, please let’s not fight. I said I’d spend the 26th with you.”

“That doesn’t matter!”

She huffs, watching her boyfriend get his shower ready to go out and spend the day with another woman. Bitterness swirls in her stomach, anger threatening to be released if she wasn’t digging her nails into her palms. “You’re spending Christmas with some random bitch and a snot-nosed kid. How do you think that makes me fe—”

“Be quiet.” Satoru says, turning around to face her with a firm frown set in place. “I’ll tolerate you insulting me but don’t disrespect them, especially Koji.”

Himari freezes, her words catching in her throat as she registers the sharpness in Satoru’s voice. His usual laidback tone is gone, replaced with a seriousness that sends a chill down her spine. Her eyes narrow, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in her expression.  “Disrespect them?” she repeats, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Are you even listening to yourself? You’re choosing them over me, Satoru. On Christmas. What am I supposed to think?”  

“You’re supposed to understand,” he replies, his tone softening but remaining firm. “Koji is my son. I’ve already missed enough of his life—I’m not going to miss any more.”  

“And what about me? What about us?” Himari snaps, stepping closer to him. “We’ve been together for almost two years, and I’ve only just now found out about all this shit. How do you think that makes me feel? Like an afterthought? Like you don’t trust me?”  

Satoru exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knows she has a point, but he also knows this argument isn’t going anywhere productive. “Himari, this isn’t about trust. It’s about priorities. Koji needs me, and I’m not going to let him down. Not ever. I just need you to understand that, that’s all.”  

“And what about my needs?” she presses, her voice breaking slightly. “Am I just supposed to sit here and wait for you to decide when I’m important enough to make time for?”  

“You’re important to me,” Satoru says, his gaze meeting hers. “But Koji will always come first. That’s not going to change, Himari. If you can’t accept that…” He trails off, letting the weight of his words hang in the air.  

Himari’s jaw tightens, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? You waltz into my life with all your charm and promises, and now you’re telling me I have to share you with some other family? What kind of relationship is this supposed to be? I did not sign up to be a fucking step-mother.”

Satoru steps closer, his expression softening slightly. “It’s the kind where I’m trying to do right by my son while still being with you. But I can’t do this if you’re going to make me choose.”  

She stares at him, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. “Maybe you already have,” she whispers before turning on her heel and storming out of the bathroom.  

Satoru watches her leave, a heaviness settling in his chest. He doesn’t chase after her, instead turning back to the shower and letting the water run. For a moment, he just stands there, the steam fogging the mirror and blurring his reflection.  

He’s made his choice, and he doesn’t regret it. But he knows the fallout isn’t over yet. He sighs as he steps in, closing the glass door. She’ll come around in a few hours when she’s all settled down, that’s how it always is—so he won’t dwell over it. Besides, he has more pressing matters to take into account. 

Hearing the shower run in the bathroom, Himari has stomped over to the bedroom. Hands fishing the sheets in order to feel for his phone. After some seconds, she finds it. Already knowing the password, she angrily unlocks it and begins swiping and surfing through every app of his. “If you’re cheating on me, Satoru. I swear to god.” She mutters to herself, scowling down at the screen. 

She doesn’t see anything, but she does click on his message with you. It all consists of just talks of the kid. 

Himari scrolls through the thread of messages, her scowl deepening as she reads. The exchanges are polite, straightforward, and almost entirely about your son—pickup times, school updates, doctor appointments. Nothing incriminating, nothing emotional. Just... parental coordination.  

But it still stings.  

Her grip tightens on the phone as her eyes skim over a message from a few days ago, the last message between you two:  

Y/N: 

Thank you for picking him up and the food.  

Satoru:

Of course, he’s my son. Just let me know if you need anything else.

Himari scoffs, tossing the phone onto the bed with a frustrated huff. “Let me know if you need anything else.” she repeats mockingly under her breath. "He’s bending over backward for her, and I’m just supposed to sit here like nothing’s wrong? Yeah fucking right.”  

She paces the room, her mind racing. No matter how innocent the texts look, she can’t shake the feeling of being replaced. It doesn’t matter that Satoru insists he’s doing this for his son—his attention is divided, and she’s no longer at the center of his world.  Her pacing comes to a halt as she glances back at the phone. A new idea begins to form, one she knows is petty but feels justified in her growing anger.  

"If he won’t make me a priority," she mutters, picking up the phone again, "then I’ll remind him of what he stands to lose."  

She opens the camera app and snaps a picture of herself, deliberately angling it to show her figure in the soft light of the bedroom. Attaching it to a blank text, she hovers over the send button.  But something stops her. A hesitation, a flicker of doubt. She’s never had to fight for Satoru’s attention before—he’s always made her feel like she was the only one that mattered.  

Until now.  

With a frustrated growl, she deletes the photo and tosses the phone back onto the bed. Crossing her arms, she glares at the bathroom door, the sound of the shower still running behind it.  

"If you want to play the perfect dad, fine," she mutters. "But don’t expect me to sit around and wait while you pretend I don’t exist." 

Sitting down onto the bed, another form of thought pops in her head. Yanking the phone back into her hands, she presses his photo album. There must be something in here. And so, she scours and scours, zooming in on every picture in fear you’ll be in the background. However, she doesn’t find anything. Only pictures of that little brat who looks like his mirrored version. “Because of you…” she grits, hand tightening around the phone. 

Continuing to scroll higher, she can tell she’s reaching earlier years. Still, the insecurity and fear plaguing her chest causes her to not stop—not until she gets to the very first photo in his album. Then she’ll for sure know he’s still hers. She’s in the year 2015, before she met Satoru. He looks younger, more boyish. She pushes down the endearing feelings she holds towards his younger self and scrolls up. 

Until, she comes across a video. 

The start of it has your face in it and she’s clicking. You’re sitting cross legged on the floor in some Christmas jammies, a Santa hat on your head with a big Christmas tree behind you. She can assume Satoru’s sitting across from you, hearing his voice say, “Okay, go!”

The entirety of the video is her holding back throwing his phone across the room. Seeing you two open each other's gifts, seeing you smile at her man, and seeing her man look at you holding the camera in such a soft way—a way she’s almost never experienced before. 

She’s getting nauseous. 

She almost throws up when she catches a glimpse of you two kissing, saying the words I love you so softly. She quickly clicks out and shuts the phone off when the sounds of low moaning fill the speakers. 

Why does he even still have this? Does he look back on this?

She wants to claw her eyes and ears out of her body. Feeling utterly infuriated at her boyfriend for keeping practically a sextape of his ex even after all these years. You fucking assume, Satoru! Himari sits on the edge of the bed, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Her mind is a storm of thoughts—jealousy, anger, and a pang of something else she refuses to name. Satoru’s insistence on prioritizing Koji and you feels like a betrayal, even if she knows deep down it’s not the same as him being unfaithful.  

Still, she can’t shake the bitterness creeping into her heart.  

She glances at his phone again, her jaw tightening. What does she have that I don’t? The question gnaws at her, even as she tries to shove it aside.  

When the sound of the shower cuts off, Himari straightens her posture, her eyes narrowing. A brewing begins to form—not a vengeful one, but one that will force Satoru to confront the rift growing between them.  Moments later, Satoru steps out of the bathroom, towel around his neck, his damp hair tousled and messy. He pauses when he sees her sitting there, her gaze piercing through him. “What’s with the look?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.  

She doesn’t answer right away, instead standing up and taking a slow step toward him. “Satoru,” she starts, her voice low but steady, “do you even realize how this feels for me? Watching you drop everything for her and that kid?”  

He sighs, already bracing himself for another argument. “Himari, we’ve been over this. Koji is my son. I have responsibilities—”  

“And what about your responsibilities to me?” she snaps, cutting him off. “I’m your girlfriend. I’ve been by your side for years. I’ve supported you, loved you, stood by you. But lately, it feels like I don’t even exist to you.”  

Satoru pinches the bridge of his nose, frustration etched into his features. “This isn’t about us, Himari. It’s about Koji. He’s my son. I missed years of his life because I didn’t even know he existed. I’m not going to waste more time by pretending he doesn’t matter.”  

“And I don’t matter?” she fires back, her voice rising. “That’s what you’re saying, right? That I come second to some kid you barely even know?”  

Satoru’s patience finally snaps. “He’s not some kid, Himari! He’s my blood, my responsibility. And if you can’t understand that, maybe you don’t belong in my life after all.”  

The words hang in the air like a slap. Himari stares at him, stunned into silence, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to process what he just said. Satoru doesn’t wait for her response. He grabs his phone from the bed, slipping it into his pocket, and heads toward the door. “I’ll be back later,” he says flatly. “Don’t wait up.”  

The door slams shut behind him, leaving Himari alone in the room, her anger boiling over into tears she refuses to let fall. In the silence, one thought echoes louder than the rest: 

I won’t let her win. You wanted me to teach you, right? Then I’ll teach you.

Satoru’s already not having a good day. He could put most of the blame on his girlfriend, the other on his parents for questioning why he’s spending the holiday with you instead, and also the fact that there’s traffic. 

Of course there’s traffic. 

It’s a good thing, almost. It gives him some time to himself. It lets him calm his annoyance, the last thing he wants to do is ruin the day for his son. He’s also a little nervous to see you. He hasn’t seen or texted you since your small argument last time, and while he does feel bad, the other part of him still believes that what he did wasn’t wrong. Hopefully—maybe today or another day—he can settle that issue with you truly. There’s a lot of things he needs to settle with you, actually. 

But just like they say one day at a time, one problem at a time. 

His finger taps absentmindedly against his steering wheel as he surges his car forward before stopping again. Sighing, he checks the time. Cutting it a little close. He turns the music up and leans back, sighing heavily. 

But the song on the radio is something upbeat, and it only serves to grate on his nerves. Satoru switches it off with a sharp jab of his finger. The silence that follows isn’t much better, though—it leaves too much room for his thoughts to wander again. 

He wonders if you’ll bring up the argument as soon as he arrives. You’re not one to let things fester, not when Koji’s around, but he knows you’ve probably been stewing on it, the way you always do when it involves him. The guilt creeps in again, and he brushes it off like a pesky fly. He’s good at that—pushing things aside until they’re too big to ignore. That’s why you two are in this mess in the first place, isn’t it?

Well, it’s surely part of it. 

The honk of a car behind him jolts him out of his thoughts. The traffic’s moving again, and Satoru presses on the gas, muttering a curse under his breath. He’s cutting it close, all right.

By the time he pulls up outside your place, his nerves are just frayed enough that he almost considers texting you to say he’s here instead of going to the door. But that feels… cowardly. He’s Satoru Gojo, for crying out loud. He can face you.

He steps out of the car, walking into the complex and up to your apartment. When he knocks on the door, it takes a moment before he hears the faint sound of footsteps approaching. The door swings open, and there you are, looking… tired. But not unhappy to see him, which is something. Adorned in an apron too, how cute. 

“Hey,” you say, your voice softer than he expected.

“Hey,” he replies, trying for a smile that doesn’t feel forced. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

You nod, stepping aside to let him in. The warmth of your home envelops him immediately, and the faint sound of Koji’s laughter from the other room eases some of the tension in his chest.

“How’s he doing?” Satoru asks, his voice low as he glances toward the sound.

“He’s excited. Been asking about you all morning,” you say, crossing your arms but not looking at him directly.

Satoru shifts on his feet, his fingers tightening around the handle of the gift bag. “Yeah, well… I’m here now.”

You look at him then, your expression unreadable. “Yeah. You are.”

There’s a moment of quiet before Koji comes barreling into the room, his face lighting up when he sees his dad. “Papa!”

Satoru smiles, scooping up his son with ease as he walks into the living room, settling down onto the couch. The smell of delicious food fills his senses, eyes closing momentarily with a heavenly sigh. “Smells good, what’s your mother making?”

Koji grins, his arms wrapped tightly around Satoru’s neck. “She’s making roast chicken and cookies!” he exclaims, his voice brimming with excitement. “And I helped with the cookies. But Mama said I ate too much of the dough.”  

Satoru chuckles, ruffling Koji’s hair. “Sounds about right. You’ve got a sweet tooth like your old man.”  

Koji’s giggle is infectious, and Satoru can’t help but feel a swell of warmth as he holds his son close. His gaze drifts toward the kitchen, where the faint sound of clinking dishes and soft humming filters through. For a moment, the tension from the past few days fades, replaced by the simple comfort of being here with his family.  

“You’re late,” your voice cuts through the air, light but pointed. You step into the living room, wiping your hands on a towel as you glance at him. He notices the small smudge of flour on your cheek, but there’s a softness in your expression that Satoru clings to.  His eyes move down your figure, ignoring the fluttering in his heart because you just look so damn cute in an apron. It feels domestic. 

You’re wearing a comfortable dress underneath, hair down with gold jewelry. Satoru physically gulps and tears his eyes away when they linger too long on your smooth legs. “Like I said, traffic.” He replies effortlessly, flashing you a sheepish grin. “But I’m here now, aren’t I?”  

You inhale deeply, lips thinning but you concede with a simple nod. “Food’s almost ready. Koji, go wash your hands. And don’t forget to use soap this time.”  

Koji pouts but hops off Satoru’s lap, darting toward the bathroom. The moment he’s out of earshot, the room grows quiet, the weight of unspoken words settling between you and Satoru.  He leans back on the couch, watching you as you cross your arms and lean against the doorway. “You didn’t have to go all out today, you know,” he says, his tone softer than usual. “I could’ve helped you cook—”

You shrug, looking away for a moment as you cut him off. “It’s Christmas,” you reply. “I wanted it to be nice. For Koji.”  

He nods, understanding what you’re not saying. “For Koji,” he echoes. There’s a pause before he adds, “And for you, too. You deserve something nice, Y/N.”  

Your eyes flicker to his, searching for any hint of insincerity. But all you find is that familiar look—the one that’s both infuriating and disarming at the same time. “You can’t just say things like that and expect everything to be okay, Satoru,” you murmur, your voice barely audible.  

“I know,” he says, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees. “But I’m trying, okay? I know I’ve been pushing boundaries, and I’m sorry. I just…” He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply. “I don’t want to miss any more of this. Of him. Of you.”  

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. You hate when he says confusing things like this because it messes with your head, fooling yourself into thinking there’s something else there. Clearing your throat, you straighten out your light pink apron. “Don’t say things like that.”

The firmness in your tone causes Satoru to purse his lips. Standing up and walking over to you. “I don’t mean anything weird by it.”

“You may not think that, but other people have different opinions.”

“Are you still mad at me from before?”

That always ticks you off—asking such obvious questions with such an innocent face. You think he’s joking, just trying to poke at the bear. But his concerned eyes, brows lifted up—it tells a whole other story. You open your mouth to respond, but Koji’s cheerful shout from the bathroom interrupts.  

“Mama! Papa! I’m ready!”  

You glance toward the bathroom, then back at Satoru. The moment is gone, but the tension lingers. “Dinner’s in ten,” you say simply, turning on your heel to head back to the kitchen.  

Satoru watches you go, a bittersweet mien playing on his godly face. He knows he’s got a long way to go—but for now, he’ll take whatever moments he can get. It’s Christmas, he wants to make the most out of it. And if that means faking it til he makes it, then so be it. 

He’s not the only one faking. 

You three are seated at the circular table in your kitchen. the warmth of the meal and the soft glow of fairy lights draped along the windows creating a cozy atmosphere. Koji chatters excitedly about his favorite Christmas movies as he eagerly digs into his plate, his small hands occasionally reaching for a cookie from the platter in the center. If Koji knew any better, he’d ask why his parents weren’t really talking to one another. 

And unfortunately, he does know better. 

“Mama? Papa? Why are you so quiet?”

Damn kids’ continent, but uncomfortable questions. 

You freeze, the fork halfway to your mouth, glancing at Satoru across the table. His eyes briefly meet yours before flicking back to Koji, his usual confident demeanor faltering under the weight of the question. “Quiet? We’re not quiet, bud,” Satoru says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He leans forward, propping his chin on his hand. “I’m just too busy stuffing my face to talk. This food is so good.”

Koji tilts his head, unconvinced. “But you always talk a lot, Papa. And Mama, you’re not smiling. I thought today was a happy day.”

Your grip on the fork tightens, the weight of Koji’s words hitting harder than you’d like to admit. Out of the mouths of babes, as they say. You force a small smile, though it feels paper-thin. “It is a happy day, sweetie. Mama’s just tired from all the cooking, that’s all.”  

Koji frowns, his big, curious eyes shifting between you and Satoru. He’s far too perceptive for his age, and it’s moments like this that make it clear just how much he picks up on. Satoru clears his throat, leaning back in his chair. “Hey, how about this? After dinner, we’ll all watch a Christmas movie together. You can pick, Koji. And then, we can open the presents.”  

Koji’s face lights up at the suggestion, but he’s not completely distracted. “Okay! But only if Mama picks, too. We all have to pick one!”  

You manage a soft chuckle, finally taking a bite of your food to avoid answering immediately. Satoru’s gaze lingers on you, and you can feel the unspoken words sitting heavy between you both. “That sounds like a deal,” you say after swallowing. “But only if you promise to eat all your vegetables first.”  

Koji scrunches his nose but nods. “Deal!”  

The rest of the meal is filled with Koji’s chatter, and though you and Satoru exchange a few words here and there, the tension remains. It’s not lost on either of you that Koji’s cheerful energy is doing the heavy lifting to make this feel like the family dinner it should be.  When the plates are cleared and Koji races to the couch to pick out the first movie, Satoru hesitates in the kitchen. He grabs a dish towel and starts drying the plates you’ve already washed, a small gesture that feels too intentional to be casual.  

“You don’t have to help,” you murmur, not looking at him. “I got it.”

“I want to,” he replies simply. There’s a pause before he adds, “I would’ve helped cook too, sorry I came later.”  

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, his expression softer than you expected. “It’s okay,” you admit quietly. “It’s just dinner and opening gifts, I didn’t ask you to.”  

His hand stills on the plate he’s holding. “I know,” he says, his voice low. “But it’s still an obligation of mine, you don’t have to do everything alone. I’m here now, remember?”  

The vulnerability in his tone catches you off guard. The truth to his words cause you to bite your lips, guilt sinking into your bones. It didn’t feel like one of those snide comments, but it had practically the same effect. And you know that he’s here, so he can handle some of your weight. However, it’s nonetheless hard to trust him with it, fearing it’ll be too heavy for him too. Before you can respond, Koji’s voice echoes from the living room.  

“Mama! Papa! Hurry up, the movie’s starting!”  

You sigh, drying your hands on a towel. “Let’s go before he starts it without us.” Satoru follows you to the couch, where Koji has already made a nest of blankets. As the movie begins, Koji snuggles between the two of you, his small hands clutching the remote.  He giggles, snuggling closer to you both, dropping the remote to the table. 

 It’s not perfect, but for tonight, it’s enough. It has to be, it’s Christmas. Although you’re not doing too much this holiday, not that you ever do, it still means a lot to Koji. Because he finally has his dad to spend it with. 

As the movie begins, Koji seems to have other plans. He grabs both of your hands—Satoru’s right and your left— bringing them in front of him and making them mash together. Immediately you tense up, just the slightest graze of Satoru’s long fingers having more of an effect on you than you anticipated. 

You pull away, Satoru’s hand lingers before he soon gets the hint. 

Koji frowns, head swiveling between his two parents. “Mama, Papa, you’re supposed to hold hands! That’s what families do,” Koji says, his little brows furrowing in frustration. His pout deepens, clearly displeased with your reaction.  

You give him a soft smile, hoping to smooth things over. “We are a family, Koji. We don’t need to hold hands to prove that,” you say gently, brushing his hair back from his forehead.  

“But it’s Christmas!” he protests, his small hands still clutching yours and Satoru’s as if he could force them together by sheer will. “Santa says families should be happy and together on Christmas! That’s what they do in the movies.”  

Satoru chuckles lightly, though there’s a hint of something conflicted in his expression as he looks at Koji. “Santa sounds like a pretty smart guy,” he murmurs, his gaze briefly flicking to you before resting on Koji again. “But sometimes families have their own way of being happy, bud. It doesn’t always look the same.”  

Koji seems to consider this, his lips pursed in thought. “Okay… but can we all hold hands just for the movie?” His tone is pleading, his wide eyes impossible to say no to.  

You hesitate, feeling the weight of Satoru’s gaze on you, before finally relenting with a quiet sigh. “I….Alright, just for the movie,” you say, letting Koji place your hand back in Satoru’s.  

Satoru’s fingers brush against yours again, warm and steady, and for a moment, neither of you moves. The contact feels heavier than it should, but Koji’s delighted giggle pulls your focus back to him.  

“See? Now it’s perfect!” he exclaims, snuggling back into the blankets with a satisfied grin. He holds your conjoined hands. 

Satoru hums softly, unintentionally giving your hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze before turning his attention to the screen. The movie plays on, Koji’s laughter filling the room. And while the air between you and Satoru remains thick with unspoken words, for this moment, you let yourself stay in the quiet warmth of your son’s happiness.  

The warmth of Koji’s small hands on top of yours is grounding, even as the tension between you and Satoru buzzes just beneath the surface. You glance at him briefly, finding his expression softer than usual. He’s watching Koji, a faint smile tugging at his lips, but when he catches your gaze, something knowing lingers in his eyes.

You look back at the screen, ignoring the familiarity Satoru’s large hand brings you. It’s familiar but different at the same time. It feels a bit more calloused, proof of his own events he’s faced in his life during the time you were separated. 

And to him, your hand feels just as it always did. Warm, soft, and so perfectly fitting. It’s like two puzzle pieces, or a key to a lock. For a second, he compares how it feels to Himari before mentally chastising himself. That’s probably a fucked up thing to do. But he’s already done a lot of that in his life. His thumb runs smoothly across your knuckles, causing a shiver to run down your spine. 

You want to pull away, but your son is a reminder to keep up the act. 

The movie plays on, filling the silence with cheerful music and laughter, but you can hardly focus. Satoru’s hand is still resting lightly against yours, his thumb brushing against your rugged muscle every so often, whether intentionally or not. It sends a twinge of something—nostalgia, maybe?—through your chest. You shift slightly, trying to focus on the screen, but Koji’s contented sigh draws your attention back to him. He’s nestled between the two of you, his little face illuminated by the glow of the TV, looking completely at peace.

“Are you happy, Koji?” you ask softly, the words slipping out before you can think them through.

Koji nods emphatically, his grin widening. “Yeah! This is the best Christmas ever!”

Satoru chuckles, his voice low and warm. “That’s a pretty big claim, Koji. We haven’t even opened the presents yet. What makes it the best?”

“Because I have Mama and Papa,” Koji says simply, looking between the two of you with wide, earnest eyes. “I don’t need presents or anything. Just you two.”

Your heart clenches at his words, and you feel Satoru’s hand tighten a bit around yours. You don’t twitch away this time, letting the moment settle over you like the soft glow of the fairy lights. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been emotional this entire week already, or the fact that Koji is just so happy, but you’re feeling yourself choke up. 

For a brief second, the weight of everything—the arguments, the hurt, the uncertainty—fades into the background. It’s just the three of you, here and now, and maybe that’s enough. “Merry Christmas, Koji,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. Hiding a trembling lip against his white tresses. Your eyes close, forcing your tears to stay exactly put where they are. 

“Merry Christmas,” Satoru echoes, his voice unusually tender. He peers over at you from the corner of his eye, a gut-wrenching twisting at his stomach when he sees your expression. He wants to wipe away the crinkle between your eyebrows with his free hand, but he decides against it—probably not the best thing to do right now. He can only offer you a firmer hand on top of yours, cradling it like it’s a diamond. It’s like a warm quilt, it feels oddly comforting. 

Again, you’re getting nostalgic. Maybe that’s another reason why you feel like crying right now—knowing you only have this fleeting moment. Koji’s smile widens, his hands squeezing one last time before settling back into his blanket cocoon.

The hours pass, having watched multiple movies already. Koji’s on the edge of falling asleep before you carefully wake him up that it’s midnight. He practically jumps right back into action, all former sleepiness gone and relaxes with utter excitement. “Presents! We can open the presents!” He scrambles to the tree, already beginning to pick at the ones he wants to open. 

You smile softly, watching Koji bounce around with excitement, the energy from the day still shining brightly in his eyes. He’s so full of joy, so eager to unwrap the surprises you and Satoru managed to get for him. The sight warms your heart, even as a quiet tension lingers in the room.

Satoru, still leaning back against the couch, watches Koji with a mix of amusement and something more—something heavier. His lips twitch, as if trying to hold back a smile, but the look in his eyes when he glances at you doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Alright, baby,” you say softly, standing up from your spot. “Let’s open them, but remember, one at a time.”

Koji nods, his little hands already tearing into the first present like a whirlwind. He pulls out a small toy car and holds it up triumphantly, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Look, Mama! Look, Papa! It’s just like the one I saw at the store!”

Satoru chuckles and ruffles his hair. “That’s a good one, Koji. I’m jealous. What else ya got?”

You can’t help but smile at the exchange, even as you reach down to grab the next present for Koji. But something still nags at you. The way Satoru looks at Koji, it’s so…heartwarming. It’s a look given only to his child, one a father could only give out. You feel both touched and warm at the same time. 

Tonight is about Koji, about making sure he feels loved and special. And while you and Satoru are at odds, you both are doing one hell of a job of making sure that it comes true. 

As Koji continues to unwrap gifts, the room fills with laughter and the sound of crinkling wrapping paper. Your heart swells watching him, but in the back of your mind, the remnants of the earlier tension refuse to fully fade. The space between you and Satoru feels both distant and strangely intimate all at once.

After maybe an hour, after admiring each gift right after opening it, Koji finishes opening his presents. You both settle back into the couch, Koji nestled between you, holding onto his new toys. There’s figurines—mainly Spider-Man or Avengers based—toy cars or motorcycles, a little rocket ship, hot wheels, a Nerf Gun, new clothes, he really got it all this year. Of course, most of the contribution was from Satoru. The silence stretches, but it feels softer now. The tension, although still there, feels more like a quiet hum in the background, overshadowed by Koji’s happiness.

“Thank you, Mama,” Koji says sleepily, his little voice thick with the exhaustion of the day. “And thank you, Papa.”

Satoru leans in, placing a gentle kiss on the top of Koji’s head. “You’re welcome, bud. Merry Christmas.” He smiles, watching his son begin to put his Spider-Man on top of the motorcycle, sparing a glance back at the tree. It’s then his smile falters. 

“Oh, you forgot two, Koji.”

“Hm?” His son looks up, seeing the two gifts all the way at the back of the tree. Getting so distracted with all his other gifts, he must’ve forgotten about those two. He sets his toys to the side and crawls back onto the floor to reach for the gift bags. Reading the tags, he looks over at you. “Oh, Mama. These are from your friend.” 

When Koji stands up and hands you one of the presents, you’re suddenly reminded. Oh. In a way, you did also forget that Suguru got you and Koji something—just so wrapped up in watching Koji rip apart each of his gifts. You smile faintly, thumbs running over the intricate snowflake patterns. 

“Friend?” Satoru asks, his voice bringing you back to reality. 

Head turning over, you realize that his face has contorted—scrunched up slightly when he holds onto Koji’s gift, reading the name of the receiver. “Suguru?” His eyes meet yours, filled with a tint of disapproval. “When did he get you two something?”

You almost lie, feeling a random burst of gultuness hit you. But it’s gone as soon as it comes. Because Satoru’s voice sounds curlis in a sense, but also suspicious. It makes you feel a little irritated, holding back a light scoff. So what Suguru got you and Koji something? “He came over to drop it off.” 

Maybe that wasn’t the best answer to give. Now Satoru’s body has faced you fully, eyebrow raising like he’s trying to put two and two together. But there’s nothing to put together. “And when was this?”

“A few days ago,” you reply back, firming your intonation. 

Satoru’s gaze narrows ever so slightly, and you can feel the shift in the air between you both. The tension that’s been simmering beneath the surface all evening suddenly intensifies. “A few days ago…” Satoru repeats, his tone now more deliberate.

“Is there a problem?” You ask, mirroring his reaction. 

Satoru bites the inside of his cheek, very obviously holding back on something for the sake of his son and the holiday. Shaking his head and giving Koji’s gift back to him. “Nope, no problem.”

You can’t help yourself as you huff under your breath, focusing back on your son as he opens the gift. He gasps, yanking the tissue paper out and revealing a bright, shiny new Spider-Man action figure. His eyes widen with delight as he holds it up to you and Satoru, showing off the intricate details of the toy. "Look, Mama! Look, Papa! It's just like the new one I saw on TV!" He beams, completely oblivious to the lingering tension in the room. “It talks and makes noises and lights up!”

You chuckle softly, finding his excitement endearing. "It's perfect, Koji. You’re going to have so much fun with that."

Satoru, however, seems distracted. He’s still watching you closely, his expression unreadable, though there’s a faint edge to his demeanor. You can tell he's trying to keep his composure, but his mind is clearly elsewhere.

Koji has almost entirely disregarded his previous gifts to play with his new gift, his attention fully focused on the toy in his hands. 

Satoru clears his throat, the subtle sound pulling you back from your thoughts. "So, Suguru came by to drop off gifts...?" His voice carries a tone that’s almost too casual, but you don’t miss the hint of something more in his eyes.

You hold his gaze, the irritation bubbling up again. "Yes, he did. He’s been kind to us." You can’t help the defensiveness that creeps into your voice. "Is that a problem?"

Satoru doesn’t immediately answer. Instead, he glances over at Koji, who’s happily occupied with his toy. He exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair before meeting your eyes again. "No, I didn’t say that. I just... I just didn’t know he was so involved."

You feel a knot form in your stomach. The subtle way he’s questioning you, the way his posture tenses every time Suguru’s name comes up—he’s feeling something, and you’re not sure how to read it. Before you can respond, Koji looks up from his toys, his voice full of innocent curiosity. “Is something wrong, Papa? Mama?”

You both turn your attention to him, but the tension doesn’t fully dissipate. You force a smile, trying to keep things light. "No, Koji. Everything’s fine." You reach over to ruffle his hair. "Are you enjoying your presents?"

Koji nods enthusiastically, his smile wide. "Best Christmas ever!" he exclaims. He looks down at your gift. “Open yours, Mama. I wanna see what your friend got you.”

You hesitate, still trying to steady your emotions after the tension with Satoru. “Alright, sweetheart,” you say, holding your gift upright in your lap. Gently peeling away the wrapping, revealing a small, wooden box. The delicate craftsmanship catches your attention immediately. 

Koji’s eyes widen in anticipation. “What’s inside, Mama? What is it?”

You open the box, revealing a small silver pendant shaped like a star, its surface engraved with intricate patterns. It’s beautiful—elegant and simple, a perfect fit for you. You trace your fingers over the smooth edges, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you smile at the thoughtful gesture. It comes with a thin silver chain, a small note underneath it. When you pull it out, it reads: 

“For the one who shines the brightest, even in the darkest of times.”

Your heart skips a beat as you read the words. It’s simple, yet so deeply personal. You trace the note with your fingertips, a mixture of warmth and something else stirring in your chest. You always mocked Suguru in the past for being so corny with his words, you never expected to be on the receiving end of them. And you never expected to blush from it either. 

“Isn’t it pretty, Mama?” Koji asks, his voice filled with genuine excitement. “I think it’s sparkly like the stars!”

You nod. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart. I’m sure it’ll look lovely on me,” You slide the pendant into your hand, clutching it for a moment longer before carefully setting it back inside. But, despite your best efforts to keep things together, you can feel the tension building again. Satoru’s look that he fails to hide is getting more on your nerves by the second. He’s acting like he has some right to be upset if his friend is giving you something. He’s acting like it’s a bigger deal than it actually is.

“Are you gonna wear it?” Koji asks, his eyes shining with curiosity. “Papa, won’t Mama look pretty with it?”

You peer over. “Of course, Mama will look pretty with it,” he says with a half-smile that’s forced. “She’s always beautiful, no matter what she wears.”

You scoff this time. What a load of shit. 

Koji squeals, clearly pleased with the answer. “Right, Mama? You’re the prettiest!”

You smile back, feeling warmth in your chest, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks, sweetheart,” you mutter softly, trying to keep things light. 

It’s extremely late now. Koji has passed out in his room with the figurine Suguru got him. Satoru and you have cleaned up in complete silence, the awkward tension intensifying even more now that Koji isn’t here to mend that. There’s only the sound of the soft hum of the dishwasher as it runs. You wipe down the counter, your movements mechanical, each action making the silence stretch longer and longer between you. Satoru stands by the sink, wiping down the wet surface around it with a towel, his back to you. But you can feel his presence in the room like a weight pressing down on the air.

Neither of you says anything, the unspoken words piling up between you both. You can feel the tension crawling beneath your skin, just like before, but now there’s no Koji to distract you, no innocent question to break the silence. Just you and Satoru, both avoiding the inevitable conversation that looms in the background. Until he finally has the balls to do something. “He didn’t tell me he was getting you guys something.”

You pause, staring down at the clean surface. “Why would he have to tell you? It’s just a present.” Your hand moves again, moving onto the corner of the granite. 

Satoru bites his tongue, willing himself not to snark back. He turns his body around, eyes digging holes into the back of your head. “I mean, it’s a little strange.”

“How?”

“Because Koji is my son, you’re my ex.”

“So that suddenly means I’m incapable of receiving presents from other men now?” You whirl around, hands on your hips. “What did you say again? Oh, right. ‘Stop getting mad at little things’.” 

Satoru flinches, his jaw tightening at your words. For a moment, he’s caught off guard, not expecting you to snap back so quickly. But he doesn’t back down. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” His voice is low, tight, as if he’s trying to keep his composure. “I just don’t like how...how weird that feels.”

You roll your eyes. “Right, weird, huh?”

“I’m not trying to argue, okay?”

“I’m not arguing either,” you quip back. “But you have no right to act like this is ‘weird’ when it’s not. You have no right to be even curious about who’s giving Koji and I gifts.”

“No right?” He huffs back at you, lip curling up. “I think I have all the right, Y/N. First off, he’s my son. Second off, we used to date. And third off, that’s my best friend. What kind of best friend—”

“Then maybe you should take that up with him.” You cut him off, chin tilting up. It’s getting harder by the second to keep things calm and composed. But Satoru shoving his fat nose into something that doesn’t involve him is testing every bit of patience you have. “I can get a gift from whoever I want, that’s none of your concern.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow as you speak, his grip on the towel tightening, the vein in his neck twitching with barely restrained frustration. “None of my concern, huh?” His voice lowers, the words coming out sharp. “That’s funny, because it seems like everything I do, say, or feel ends up being your concern, whether you want it to be or not.”

You step closer, your heart racing as the anger rises in your chest, pushing against the barriers you’ve built. “Satoru, I’m done pretending like everything we do is some sort of tangled mess that you have the right to control. You’re not my boyfriend anymore, and Koji isn’t the reason I have to explain every little thing to you.”

“I’m not saying you have to.”

“Then just shut the hell up about it already.”

Silence follows. 

The room feels colder now, the weight of your words settling heavily in the space between you. Satoru doesn’t respond immediately, his jaw clenched tightly as he stares at you, his chest rising and falling as if he’s weighing the next words carefully. He’s frustrated, no doubt, but something else lingers beneath it—something deeper, something that neither of you has dared to address.

You stand there, both of you frozen, the only sound the faint hum of the dishwasher and the quiet rhythm of your breathing. It feels as though time has stopped, the tension so thick it’s almost suffocating. Then, slowly, Satoru takes a breath and places the towel down on the counter, running a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he mutters, his voice much softer now, but still tinged with frustration. “I get it. It’s not my place anymore.”

Your lips purse, feeling slightly caught off guard by his quick reluctance to further escalate things. But that’s a good thing, right? Swallowing down anything else, you nod stiffly. Eyes moving down to focus on anything else but him. Your hands awkwardly fiddle together. 

But he never looks away from you. Mind reeling about what to say or do next, fearing that he did in fact make a big deal out of nothing. It’s just presents, that’s it. But the quiet voice in his head nags at him more and more. But why didn’t Suguru say anything? Isn’t it at least some common courtesy to tell your best friend you’re getting his son and ex a gift? Even a simple text would have sufficed. 

But he didn’t do any of that. So Satoru’s brain feels like he tried to hide it—for a reason? He doesn’t know. Maybe he forgot? Still, he doesn’t like the knot that forms in his gut. 

A calming breath is taken to reset his system, shaking his head. Not tonight, not tonight. His fingers reach into the pocket of his coat, feeling a small, square box. He waits for a few seconds, unsure if he should continue on. Nonetheless, he does. Pulling out the little thing, presenting it in front of him. 

He clears his throat, you look back over at him. Head tilting slightly at the sight of the wrapped box with a tiny red bow. “…what is that?”

“My gift to you.” He murmurs out, holding it to you. 

Your eyes widen, mouth parting. No words come out, feeling a multitude of varying emotions. It all ends with you reaching out for the box, shaking it a little. You hear a small clanking. Asking a stupid question like what is it will just keep your wary feelings alive. So, you carefully remove the light wrapping, slowly like you’re scared as to why you’ll see inside. 

You’re not scared. Just more confused. 

“A key?” You question, holding up the gold key in front of your face. It dangles as your vision focuses back on the man in front of you. “What is this for?”

Satoru watches you, his eyes a mix of uncertainty and something deeper, something more vulnerable. He shifts slightly, hands in his pockets, his shoulders tense as if bracing himself for your reaction. “To your new place.” 

Your heart skips a beat at his words. A new place? Your mind struggles to catch up, trying to make sense of the statement. “My new place?” you repeat, still not sure if you heard him correctly.

Satoru nods slowly, his eyes now focused on the key in your hand. “I’ve been looking for something for you. For Koji. A place where you both can be… comfortable. It’s. A nice neighborhood, enough room. There’s a school next by and there’s open spots left.” His voice is steady, but there’s a tinge of something vulnerable in the way he says it—like he’s giving you space to decide, but also hoping for something more.

A rush of conflicting emotions hits you. You look down at the key again, your fingers curling around it as you try to process what he’s saying. “You… got me a place?” You repeat, still in shock over the fact that he went out of his way to do so. 

He shifts his weight, eyes still on the key. “Not just you. A place for you, Koji… and maybe even me, too. When I come to visit sometimes, there’s four bedrooms, one of them can be used as a spare.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Satoru has always been unpredictable, but this—this is different. It feels like he’s offering something more than just a space. It’s a possibility. A chance. But it also feels like an unspoken question, one that you’re not sure how to answer. “I don’t know what to say,” you whisper, looking at the key again. “Why now?”

Satoru steps closer, his expression softer than you’ve seen in a long time. “Because… I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I know I’ve messed things up too for us, and I’m not asking for anything. Just… I thought it might be a good way to start fresh. For you and Koji. And you guys mean a lot to me, I want you to live in a nice space. Not…not somewhere like this. The people look shady.”

You stand there, the weight of his words sinking in. The offer is unexpected, yet strangely comforting. It’s not just about the apartment or the key—it’s about something deeper, something that might hold the possibility of fixing whatever things were broken.

But then, a quiet part of you wonders: Do I want this?

You bite the inside of your cheek, clutching the key tighter in your hand now. You bite the inside of your cheek, clutching the key in your hand now. The smooth, cold metal feels heavier than it should, like it’s holding all the unanswered questions and unresolved feelings between you and Satoru. You glance up at him, his expression open yet guarded, as though he’s trying to brace himself for any answer you might give.

“Satoru...” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what to say.”

He shrugs, though there’s an uneasy tension in his posture. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I just...I wanted to give you something. Something that’s yours.” His gaze flickers to the key in your hand. “No strings, no expectations. Just a place where you and Koji can feel safe. If you don’t want it, I’ll still keep it around if you someday change your mind.”

The sincerity in his voice tugs at something deep within you, but it also makes your heart ache. You swallow hard, your emotions swirling. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this first?” you ask, your tone softer now, though still tinged with confusion.

“Because I wasn’t sure how you’d take it,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured or think it was about me trying to fix everything all at once. It’s not like that. I just... I care about you. And about Koji. And besides, it’s Christmas.” He ends with a small smile, his right dimple peeking out. 

His words hang in the air, filling the silence between you. For a small instant, you don’t respond, your mind racing. This gesture—it’s thoughtful, maybe even selfless—but it’s also overwhelming. You hold the key closer, feeling its edges press into your palm, grounding you in the midst of the emotional storm. Finally, you exhale, your voice steady but quiet. “I need some time to think about this. It’s... a lot.”

Satoru nods, his blue eyes softening. “Take all the time you need. It’s yours, no matter what you decide.” He pauses, glancing toward the door. “Well, I should probably get going.”

Adjusting his coat, he takes one step out the kitchen before you stop him with a hand to his arm. A ring of fire burns up his arm and to his ears, slowly making its way to his cheeks when he looks back down at you. “I…I got you something…too.”

His eyebrows raise, not having expected you to give him something in return. Letting go of his arm, you walk to a small cupboard, reaching in and pulling out a square shaped gift. It’s wrapped in light blue wrapping with a red bow. You hand it to him and he takes it, feeling around. He already has an idea of what it is. 

“Open it when you get back.” You mutter, rubbing the back of your neck. 

He stares quietly for a small time, a hint of a smile almost making its way onto his face again. It’s cute how shy you look right now. Some things never change, do they? He nods, murmuring back. “Okay, thank you.”

With one final hum from you, he heads back to the door. His stomach feeling lighter. You hesitate, watching him turn toward the hallway. “Satoru.”

He stops, looking back at you over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.” Your words are sincere, even if you’re still unsure about everything. “For thinking about us.”

A faint grin tugs at his lips, though there’s a hint of sadness in it. “Always,” he says softly before walking away, leaving you standing there with the key in your hand and your thoughts spinning.

You remain rooted in place, the key dangling lightly in your grip as the door clicks shut behind him. The silence that follows feels deafening. The warmth of the holiday lights around the room does little to ease the cold weight settling in your chest. You sit down at the edge of the couch, staring at the key, your mind replaying Satoru’s words. No strings, no expectations. Just a place where you and Koji can feel safe.

It’s a generous gift, undeniably thoughtful, but it feels complicated—like every other thing in your relationship with Satoru. You know he means well, but the history between you makes it impossible to separate the gesture from the lingering emotions that bind you both. Your gaze shifts to the Christmas tree, now surrounded by Koji’s new toys. You can still picture his bright smile, hear his laughter from earlier in the evening. The thought of giving him a stable home, something truly yours, tugs at your heart. But then there’s the nagging voice in your head, reminding you of the tension tonight—the unspoken conflicts, the unresolved feelings, and the fragile line you and Satoru walk every time you see each other.

You sigh, leaning back against the couch, the key resting in your palm. Your eyes drift to the small silver pendant Suguru gave you earlier. It still sits on the coffee table, catching the warm glow of the Christmas lights. Another kind gesture. Another layer to the mess.

The soft patter of small feet interrupts your thoughts. Koji appears in the hallway, rubbing his eyes sleepily, his Spider-Man toy clutched tightly in one hand. 

“Mama?” he mumbles, his voice groggy. “Why are you still up?”

You quickly set the key on the table, forcing a smile. “Just cleaning up, sweetheart. Is everything okay?” 

He nods, yawning as he climbs onto your lap, resting his head against your chest. “Yes.”

“Did you have a good Christmas?”

“The best Christmas ever.”

You hold him close, brushing his messy hair away from his forehead. “That’s all that matters,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head. But even as you say it, your thoughts drift back to the key—and everything it represents.

Satoru has been staring at the gift—stil wrapped—for about fifteen minutes now. He’s conflicted. Unsure if he wants to know what you got him, or if it’ll bring on something unwanted. The gift sits untouched on the table before him, the wrapping paper shimmering faintly under the soft glow of the Christmas lights. Satoru leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, one hand tangled in his hair as he stares at it. His jaw tightens, then relaxes, his thoughts spiraling in circles.

Fifteen minutes. That’s how long he’s been sitting here, debating whether to open it.

He knows it’s just a gift. A simple, kind gesture. But with everything that’s happened tonight—the tension, the unspoken words, the unresolved feelings—this small box feels heavier than it should. What if it’s something that reminds him of how things used to be? Or worse, what if it’s just a polite, distant gift, a reminder of how far apart you’ve drifted?

He exhales sharply, running a hand over his face. “It’s just a damn gift, Satoru,” he mutters to himself. Yet he doesn’t move, his blue eyes fixed on the box as if it might spring to life and deliver answers to questions he’s too afraid to ask. 

He huffs a reluctant laugh, his hand finally reaching for the gift. His fingers trace the edges of the paper before he carefully begins to unwrap it, the sound of tearing paper filling the quiet room. Beneath the wrapping is a small black box, simple and unassuming. He lifts the top up and it drops to the side. 

His hands still in place, almost beginning to tremble. His breathing shallows, heart thumping quicker than before. Carefully—very carefully—he reaches in. Handling the object with utmost care, bringing it closer to his face. 

Two faces stare back at him. 

His son—undeniably younger, maybe around one year old. He’s being held in your lap, arms secure around his tiny stomach. He looks chubbier, cuter. Wearing a cute Christmas get up. Baby Santa. And when his eyes glaze over to you, he gulps. 

You’re wearing an equally festive outfit. A bright red sweater adorned with little snowflakes and reindeer, a simple black skirt to go with it. Your face is glowing with a smile so genuine, it knocks the breath out of him. Your hair is a little messier, your cheeks flushed with warmth, probably from laughing too much. Koji’s tiny hand clutches at your sweater, and your other hand is raised in a peace sign as you lean closer to him for the photo. 

Satoru’s fingers brush the surface of the photograph, his chest tightening as the memory pulls him under. It looks like a professional photo done, you must’ve gone all out that Christmas. Now, holding it in his hands, it feels like a physical snapshot of a life he had no chance of living in. 

His thumb grazes the edge of the picture frame it’s nestled in. It’s a simple wooden frame, painted white, with the words Our First Christmas Together etched across the top in tiny gold letters.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his vision blurring slightly. He blinks rapidly, trying to push back the emotions clawing at his throat. It’s not just the photograph—it’s what it represents. A time when things were simpler. When the two of you were a family, before everything unraveled. When it was just you and Koji—no room for him. 

The weight of the night presses on him again, harder this time. He feels foolish for hesitating to open the gift, for overthinking it, when you’d given him something so pure. Something so full of love. He pulls the frame in, swallowing hard as he leans back on the couch. He holds it close to his chest. His other hand runs through his hair, tugging slightly as he tries to steady himself. “Why’d you have to go and do this?” he whispers to no one, his voice breaking. He outwardly chuckles—bitter but affectionate. Warm tears sliding down his cheeks and resting atop the wooden frame. His lips press a small kiss to his baby son, and to you. 

Because now, more than ever, he realizes how much he still misses you. And how much he regrets letting it all slip away when he was too young and stupid to think clearly. 

That night when he heads to bed, he sleeps with the picture of his family next to him. Tucked in like it’s a physical being, and in a way, it is. 

taglist is now closed

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins

@sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited

@duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee

@devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts @bitchycloudstrawberry @tiffyisme3760 @iheartshopping

@chiara-hotel @uriahs-barn @celloccino @roronoazorosbxtchh @pseudophyllus

@ratedrrrr @m1gota @tojideckmuncher @yigaclvn @sukunaslve

@eiizabeth-torres @cherrythiccums0 @satorustorm @zoeyflower @username23345

@i0313z @gourdlorddgubes @partypoison00 @quinnyundertow @sorilyae

@redzscare @aldebrana @nycmagi @s4ikooo1 @dreaming-lis @gigiiiiislife

@boothillglazer @miss-dior @miakxn @rjreins

[404creep]

Breaking The Ice (Judd Birch X Jessi Glaser Older! Sister Reader)

Summary: You and Judd have been in school together since elementary school.

This is kind of related to the drabble I put out a long time ago. Lots of people have been reading that and asking for new Judd content so I figured I’d pause of my Simon Riley series to write this. Hope ya’ll like it. May do a second part from Judd’s perspective and then a third chapter showing them actually getting together if this gets enough interaction. As always if you see any errors….no you didn’t.

If she was being honest with herself (and she really did try to be, more often than not) she hadn’t noticed Judd Birch at first.

Back in elementary school, he was background noise. Just another name on the attendance sheet, another kid kicking gravel at recess. Maybe she could’ve picked his face out of a lineup if she squinted, but probably not. He wasn’t loud, but he wasn’t exactly shy either. He didn’t blend in so much as linger around the edges, watching with that half-lidded stare that made him look way too tired for a third grader. Like he was already over it. Like he was clocking every detail and filing it away somewhere private.

And she hadn’t noticed him noticing her.

Not until middle school, anyway. That’s when he started showing up.

He’d gotten tall. Fast. In that awkward, almost unsettling way boys do, like his limbs were rebelling against the concept of symmetry. There was something off about him: sharp angles, quiet intensity, a kind of stillness that didn’t match the usual chaos of the Birch household. His eyes lingered too long. Not creepy. Just… focused. Like he was studying people. Measuring them.

She didn’t like how often she caught him looking.

When Jessi said she was hanging out with Judd’s little brother, Nick, she’d braced for weird. It had to run in the family, right?

But Nick was… different.

Nick was a completely different beast. Loud, messy, always in motion. He talked with his whole body. He wanted to be liked. Judd didn’t seem to care if anyone liked him at all. If Nick was the show, Judd was the curtain. The frame. There, but apart. Not unwelcome. Just… separate.

It was kind of wild how the Birch family didn’t try to fix him. They didn’t ignore him, either. He wasn’t the black sheep, he was just a part of the herd that did his own thing. Like maybe being weird wasn’t something to outgrow. Just something to be nurtured. Even if no one really understood it.

Then came freshman year. Biology class.

They got paired up. Not by choice. She still remembered how he looked at her when their names were called: like he already knew it was going to happen. Like the universe was playing along with something only he could see.

He loved dissections. Frogs, fetal pigs, anything with guts. His eyes lit up in this completely unhinged way, and it was honestly a little terrifying. So she took over the paperwork. It was better than having him hover while she tried not to stab herself with a scalpel.

And weirdly? It worked. They worked. Efficient. Surprisingly chill. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it caught her off guard. Sharp thoughts, quiet voice, that same too-long stare.

She never knew what to say back. But she wanted to.

By sophomore year, he was gone. Different classes. Different hallways. That thing they had (whatever it was) just kind of faded.

Until she started driving.

She’d just gotten her license, and that came with the responsibility of driving her sister around. Which meant dropping her off and picking her up from the Birch house. Most of the time she sat in the car, engine running, scrolling on her phone or staring out the windshield. But sometimes (too many times for it to be random) Judd came outside instead.

And he never said hi like a normal person.

One day it was, “I’m training raccoons to freak out Nick.” Another time he asked if she wanted drugs, deadpan, like it was a casual Tuesday hobby.

She always laughed. Because he was ridiculous. Because it felt like he wanted her to laugh. Because deep down, she kind of liked how absurd it all was. Like he was throwing her a test, just to see if she’d flinch.

It wasn’t flirting. Not really.

But it wasn’t nothing either.

It was… weirdly electric. Like every conversation was a sequel to one they’d never actually had. He’d stand there, blue dyed hair and deadpanned eyes, looking like the rules didn’t apply to him. And she’d cross her arms and pretend not to care. Pretend she wasn’t waiting for whatever he’d say next.

Maybe it didn’t mean anything.

But sometimes he looked at her like it did. Like she was supposed to understand something he hadn’t said out loud yet.

And she hated how much she wanted to.

Then there was that Friday. Late October. Cold air, crunchy leaves, the kind of day that made everything feel just a little closer, a little slower. Jessi was taking forever inside, probably still talking. Judd stepped out onto the porch.

No greeting. Just, “I’ve been designing suits for the raccoons. Little vests. One of them’s getting a bow tie.”

She blinked. Let it sit for a beat. Then said, “Are they unionized yet, or are you still exploiting their labor?”

He lit up.

Not just in his eyes. His whole face. Like something switched on inside him.

And then he smiled.

A real one.

Not a smirk. Not a twitch of the mouth. A full, open, stupidly soft smile. Or at least as soft as Judd Birch could smile.

“Working on a healthcare plan,” he said. “But they’re terrible at filling out paperwork.”

It was ridiculous. Absolutely unhinged. Probably the weirdest conversation she’d ever had.

And she grinned the whole drive home, Jessi was too busy on her phone to notice.

[vvampirelust]

just thinking about sevika riding your face xx

warning: smut, oral (s!recieving), face riding, choking, slapping and that’s all folks not proof read as always

i’m sorry this took so long guys

she does it on purpose. whistling sharply to get your attention. proving some unbeknownst point. sevika drags you from your fucked out daze, sprawled naked and spent in the middle of the bed. looking over, you near squeak like a kicked puppy.

raw need surges from sevika. seeping from flared nostrils with each ragged breath. hard eyes glazed over as she steps forward, returning to your side. “ain’t done with you, baby,” sevika shakes her head, discarding the strap she had in your tummy just minutes ago. she’s been fucking you for hours and as much pleasure she takes from it, she can’t deny the pounding between her own legs

You reach for her which only elicits a chuckle from the woman. Snatching your wrists and dragging you towards her. As your head hangs off the edge of the bed, you still manage to admire every inch of Sevika’s naked form. Mouth watering as she towers over you. “Make me feel good, yeah?” It’s not a question. Sevika straddles your face, giving you no choice but to obey. She keeps you locked in her bruising grasp, wrists painfully rubbing together. Sevika doesn’t care, getting off being the only goal in her mind.

Wasting no time and eager to make her feel good. Your tongue laps against her slit, moaning instantly as the taste of her invades your mouth. Sevika curses lowly above you, feeling you dipping between her folds to drink down her juices.

You feel the warmth on your tongue, the subtle throbbing as you circle her clit. Sevika drops her weight, hips bucking against your face. You shamelessly whine into her cunt as you lick her like a kitten would with milk. Unable to get enough, you devour her.

Sevika releases the grip on your wrists, instead pawing at your breasts. Squeezing and tweaking your nipples between the tips of her fingers. “Fuckkk,” Sevika groans, “Keep going.” Demanding with a sharp slap to your tit, just to feel you whimper against her cunt. She gets off on it, your suffering. She’s harsh with each grope, uncaring if a bruise is left, knowing that the pleasurable pain well, you get off on it too.

Sekiva grinds down on your face as you suckle on her protruding and pulsing clit. Lips wrapped around as you flick your tongue against her. Sevika looses control of her pleasure, letting the needy noises drip like honey from her mouth.

Hearing her let loose like that paired with the musky taste of her on your tongue. You can’t help but let your hand slip down your body, reaching for your own bundle of nerves. Cut short by Sevika grabbing your wrists yet again. “I don’t fucking think so,” throughout the pleasure, she still manages to keep her voice steady, menacing. “Don’t be stupid, you get what you get.” Sevika spits out, grinding down harder on your face.

She loves the way you struggle in her metal and unfaltering grip. Free hand sliding to wrap around your throat, squeezing. Sevika fucks herself on your face, hips rutting against your outstretched tongue. Curses and groans of pleasure falling from her lips as her clit slides back and forth over your wet muscle.

Sevika feels you choking against her, air cut off by the tight hold she has on you. Yet it only turns her on more. You don’t let up, lapping and fucking your tongue into her hole. All while gasping and sputtering into her cunt as Sevika gets herself off. “That’s it, doll,” she grunts with a hard thrust, throwing her head back. “Just love licking cunt, don’t you?” she laughs, tightening her hold on your throat.

And then she lets go, for a split second. Just as you begin to gasp in a breath of air, Sevika is seating her cunt back on your face. Cutting you off. Taunting you.

Her breaths become ragged, eyes falling closed as she nears the high that’s been building for hours. You try to keep up with each rut of her hips, mouth working to make her feel good. She holds your wrists against your stomach, leaning more and more of her weight atop you as she looses control. Even lightheaded, you lap, suckle and slurp at her cunt. Moaning and basking in her taste. Sevika’s thrusts becoming faltered the closer she gets. Grunting with each one and tightening her hold on you.

You’re near thrashing when Sevika cums, out of breath and trapped beneath her. If this is how you die, hell it’s a good way to go. You can feel her cunt throbbing with each wave, cum leaking into your mouth. Sevika can’t hold in the long moan that escapes as she rides out her high. Grinding sensually over your tongue, juices spilling and making a mess of you. She wouldn’t have it any other way. “Good…” Sevika sighs, “Good fucking girl.”

Gasping dramatically when she finally releases your throat, Sevika chuckles breathlessly. She steps off your face, patting your wet cheek in praise. It’s the most you’ll ever get and you’re more than happy to take it.

[ccupcakeyss]

bllk boys sex headcannons?

SAY LESS!!!

૮ 𓏵  BLLK BOYS SEX HEADCANONS 𓂂 ⠀୧

SUMMARY: bllk boys sex headcanons !!! including: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, kunigami rensuke, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, michael kaiser, oliver aiku, reo mikage, nagi seishiro and shidou ryusei ofcourse!

CW: graphic sexual content, dom/sub dynamics, light degradation, praise kink, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, penetration (protected), overstimulation, orgasm control, power play, possessive behavior, dirty talk, filthy language, light bondage (silk ties, wrist restraints), hair pulling, marking (hickeys, bruises), aftercare themes, nipple play, semi-public teasing, lingerie kink, mirror sex, jealousy/possessiveness, rivals-to-lovers tension, lazy sex, sleepiness kink (consensual), emotionally detached sex with underlying feelings, slight choking (consensual), smutty dialogue, smut with plot, fem!reader

NOTES: first time doing headcanons, mb if out of character ..

ISAGI YOICHI

“Surprisingly filthy once the lights are off.”

• He’s got a praise kink like you wouldn’t believe. Call him a “good boy” and he’ll come undone.

• Loves face-sitting. Will hold your thighs down and just stay there like it’s his job.

• Moans. Loudly. Thinks he’s being quiet but he’s absolutely not.

• He might start off soft and loving, but give it a few rounds and he’s pounding you from behind, hand in your hair, telling you how tight you feel.

• Post-nut cuddles? Non-negotiable. He’s holding you like you’re the championship trophy.

BACHIRA MEGURU

“Chaos in the streets, freak in the sheets.”

• Into overstimulation — both ways. Will finger you until your legs are shaking, then eat you out just to see how far you can go.

• Definitely into playful bondage. Ties your wrists with his jersey, grinning the whole time.

• Calls sex “playtime” and means it. Loves experimenting, roleplay, teasing, even risky public stuff.

• Wild with his tongue. He’ll go down on you and hum just to hear you moan his name louder.

• Filthy talker. He’ll whisper how wet you are, how he can feel you clenching, and laugh when you whine.

CHIGIRI HYOMA

“Pretty boy with a sharp edge.”

• Looks like he’s delicate. He’s not. He’ll have your legs shaking with precision thrusts, hand at your throat, lips on your ear.

• Into mirror sex. Wants you to watch him ruin you. Loves hearing you beg for more.

• Huge into aftercare. Washes you gently, kisses every mark he left on your skin.

• Hair pulling? Yes, please. Let him grab your hair, pull your head back, and whisper how good you feel.

• Will edge you for hours if you let him, smirking when you cry from being denied.

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

“The gentle giant who will absolutely break your back.”

• Has the stamina of a god. One round? Nah. Try four. Maybe five.

• Big into body worship. Loves how small you look underneath him. Kisses every inch of you.

• Quiet grunts, deep groans — and when he finally lets go, he growls your name.

• Pick-you-up-and-fuck-you-against-the-wall strength. And he will use it.

• Will blush like crazy when you compliment his size… but still make you scream his name in the next breath.

ITOSHI SAE

“Cold in public, nasty in private.”

• Has a serious dominance streak. You don’t cum until he says so. And you better ask politely.

• Into degradation — but classy. “You really think you deserve this cock? Prove it.”

• Finger game = elite. He’s calculated. He’ll hit your G-spot and just watch you come apart.

• Doesn’t get flustered. He’s calm, composed, and relentless while he’s inside you.

• Rarely shows emotion… until he’s close. Then he mutters your name, voice strained, breath on your neck. Killer.

ITOSHI RIN

“Quiet but dark — you bring out his wild side.”

• Intense eye contact. Wants you to look at him while he’s deep inside you, wants to see you fall apart.

• A little possessive. He doesn’t say it, but the way he marks you with hickeys? Loud and clear.

• Grinds more than thrusts — slow, deep, intentional. You’ll feel every inch.

• Gets off on you being needy for him. Texts you while he’s at training: “Touch yourself. Don’t cum until I get home.”

• Hair messy, flushed cheeks, breathing hard as he whispers, “You’re mine.” And he means it.

MICHAEL KAISER

“Cocky, flashy, and absolutely unhinged in bed.”

• Loves showing off — will make you cum over and over just to prove he can.

• Calls you “princess,” “baby,” “my good little slut” — all in the same breath.

• Loves watching himself fuck you. Mirror, phone camera, even recording from his POV. Egotist to the core.

• Into lingerie. Buys you expensive sets just so he can rip them off.

• Will pull your panties to the side, slide in, and whisper, “Tell me how perfect my cock feels.” And god, it does.

OLIVER AIKU

“Big captain energy with a freaky side.”

• Experienced. Knows exactly how to touch you, how to hold you, how to break you.

• Dirty talker deluxe. “That’s it, baby. Look at you. So cock-drunk already?”

• Gives the best aftercare — draws you a bath, massages your legs, kisses your forehead like you didn’t just get railed into next week.

• Loves when you ride him. Hands behind his head, smug smirk on his face, letting you take what you need.

• Also into threesomes. Would absolutely invite someone else in, just to watch you get devoured while he takes care of the rest.

REO MIKAGE

“Spoil me and let me spoil you.”

• He’s a giver, first and foremost. Reo gets off on making you feel spoiled, overstimulated, and ruined — but only by his hands.

• Will buy you the most luxurious lingerie and then say, “You’re not allowed to take it off. That’s my job.”

• Total power play in the sheets. He’s used to control in every part of his life — and that carries over. He’ll have you on your knees, begging for his cock, while he keeps a hand under your chin, smirking.

• Into marking you — hickeys, bites, handprints on your ass. He wants to see proof of himself on your body.

• Big on eye contact. He wants you to look him in the eyes while you cum. It’s a control thing, and a connection thing.

• Aftercare KING. Wipes you down with warm towels, feeds you chocolate-dipped strawberries, runs a bath. You’re his princess, but a filthy one.

NAGI SEISHIRO

“Too lazy to care… until he’s in the mood. Then it’s over.”

• The type to say “meh” to everything all day… but when he wants you? Game over. Lethal in bed once his switch flips.

• Big into lazy sex — letting you ride him while he lies back, groaning lowly, hands on your hips guiding you like he’s half-asleep… but his eyes are locked on you the whole time.

• But sometimes? He gets possessive out of nowhere. You’ll kiss someone on the cheek or wear something too short and suddenly he’s flipping you over, face-down, ass-up, giving you slow deep strokes while whispering, “Mine. Only mine.”

• Messy oral. Doesn’t care if his face gets drenched — in fact, he loves it. Goes down on you like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

• Moans under his breath. Soft but filthy — little curses, drawn-out groans, and “fuck, that’s so good…”

• He’ll act like he’s too tired to go again… until you beg. And then he’s flipping you onto your back and fucking you so hard the headboard slams the wall.

SHIDOU RYUSEI

“Violent, vulgar, and sinfully good at ruining you.”

• Ferally dominant. Doesn’t make love — he fucks. Rough, loud, messy, and unapologetically aggressive about it.

• Biting. Everywhere. Your neck, thighs, shoulders, ass — he marks you like he’s claiming territory. Loves when you’re covered in bruises from the night before.

• “Don’t act all shy now,” he’ll growl as he shoves his fingers into your mouth or drags his tongue up your thigh. “You knew what this was.”

• Dirty talk is constant. Shidou will moan, curse, growl, and say the filthiest shit while keeping eye contact.

• Public sex kink? Massive. He’ll finger you in a bathroom, eat you out in a locker room, and tell you to be quiet while he fucks you with people right outside.

[angelluv16]

Hi! Could I have a fic where reader is Chr*st**n H*rn*r's daughter and she doesn't have the best relationship with her dad (especially after the allegations) but she has a wardrobe malfunction during media with her tube top (which, fun fact, is called a boob tube in the UK (I think)) and the nearest garage is Mercedes so she heads there and comes out wearing a Mercedes kit and all hell breaks loose with her dad? It could be Kimi Antonelli x reader (or George Russell x reader, whatever you prefer)

Wrong Team

✩: No one except your close friends knew you were dating a Mercedes driver until a little accident happened that revealed it all

Want to be added to my taglist? (new version): Click here

pairing: Kimi Antonelli x reader

warnings: Christian Horner (🤮), Flashing? argument (chirstian being an ass like always)

A/n: I'm so so sorry this is so so bad. It's really late, and I decided to do it now since I have school tomorrow and I won't be able to write then. But Your my third ever request I love writing for you guys I love writing in general I just really suck cuz Idk what to write about haha

Butterfly Banner- @bernardsbendystraws

This day was officially the worst.

Media duties were already hell, especially when half the reporters were still throwing shady questions about your last name at you. But then, as if the universe was personally out to get you, your top decided to completely betray you in front of the entire paddock.

One second, you were answering some pointless question about Red Bull’s performance. The next—pop. Your stupid strapless top slipped at the absolute worst moment, and the cameras? Oh, they caught everything.

Panic took over. You bolted from the media pen, arms crossed over your chest, not stopping to think about where you were going. Just away.

Which, in hindsight, was how you ended up here.

Mercedes.

“Uh—hey?” One of their mechanics blinked at you, completely confused as you barged in, looking like you’d just escaped a disaster (which, to be fair, you had).

“Long story,” you muttered, shifting uncomfortably as the cold air hit your now-exposed shoulders.

Thankfully, someone—bless their soul—threw you an oversized team shirt. You yanked it on immediately, sighing in relief as the fabric swallowed you whole. The crisis somewhat averted.

Or so you thought.

The second you stepped outside, still wearing the Mercedes shirt, you heard it.

That voice.

“What. The. Fuck.”

You froze.

Slowly, you turned to see your father—Christian Horner—staring at you like you’d just committed actual treason.

His face? A deep shade of red. His jaw? Clenched so tight you were honestly concerned for his teeth.

“What the hell are you wearing?” he demanded, his voice low but dripping with fury.

You glanced down at yourself like you’d somehow forgotten the giant Mercedes logo now printed across your chest. “Uh—”

“Are you kidding me?!” He took a step forward, eyes burning into you. “You just humiliated yourself on live television, and your first instinct was to—what? Run straight into the enemy’s arms?”

“It wasn’t like that—”

“Oh, really?” He scoffed. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you couldn’t wait to ditch Red Bull for our biggest rival.”

You clenched your jaw, frustration bubbling in your chest. “Dad, seriously?”

But he wasn’t done. “Do you have any idea how this makes me look? How it makes the team look? My own daughter, parading around in Mercedes gear like she’s one of them—”

“Okay, first of all? Parading is a stretch,” you snapped. “Second, maybe instead of worrying about your precious reputation, you could ask if I’m okay?”

Christian exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re fine.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Wow. Thanks, Dad. Great to know my well-being is second to your ego.”

Before Christian could spit another sharp reply, a familiar arm draped over your shoulders.

“Everything alright here?”

Kimi.

You didn’t even have to look to know he was enjoying this. His voice was calm, but you could feel the smug energy radiating off him.

Christian’s entire body tensed immediately. His glare shifted from you to Kimi, eyes narrowing into dangerous little slits.

“Why the hell are you touching my daughter?”

Kimi didn’t move his arm. In fact, you swore his grip tightened slightly—just to piss Christian off more. “Problem?”

Christian’s gaze flickered between the two of you, realization dawning fast. “No,” he muttered, voice cold. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

You sighed, leaning a little further into Kimi’s side. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“If you think Kimi and I have been seeing each other for a while now… then, yeah. It’s exactly what you think.”

Christian just stared. You could see the gears turning in his head, but whatever response he wanted to throw at you never made it past his lips. He just inhaled sharply, turned on his heel, and walked away without another word.

You blinked. “Okay, that was… unexpected.”

Kimi chuckled, finally turning to you. “I was expecting more yelling.”

“Same.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I give it ten minutes before he finds a camera crew to rant to.”

“Should we place bets?”

You laughed, leaning into him a little more. “I’d rather not lose money today.”

Kimi just smiled, pressing a light kiss to your temple. “Guess we don’t have to keep it a secret anymore.”

“Guess not.”

You exhaled, glancing down at the Mercedes shirt again. “You know, the worst part is, I actually like this shirt.”

Kimi smirked. “You should keep it.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Might as well. Red Bull’s probably already burning my team kit.”

And honestly? You didn’t even care.

Taglist: @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @greantii @norstappenvibes @mary-op81 @Karmahnicolas @nichmeddar @honethatty12 @mynameisangeloflife

[bambieyedoll]

⋆·˚ ༘ * SHANE WALSH HEADCANNONS 𐚁̸.ᐟ

𐙚 being in a relationship with shane walsh.

shane is the definition of overprotective—before the apocalypse, he was already the guy who’d walk you to your car at night, hand on your lower back, scanning the parking lot like he was on duty.

after everything goes to hell? that instinct goes into overdrive.

there’s no such thing as “too cautious” in shane’s book. he walks in front of you when entering new areas, his arm instinctively pushing you back if he senses something’s off.

“stay close,” he mutters, scanning the area with sharp, trained eyes.

if there’s even a hint of danger, his temper flares. he’s not just protective—he’s vicious when it comes to keeping you safe.

someone threatens you? shane doesn’t just handle it; he makes sure they never even think about looking at you the wrong way again.

if you so much as scrape your knee, he’s pissed—not at you, but at himself. he grumbles about how you need to be more careful, but his hands are impossibly gentle as he patches you up.

he becomes the most stubborn caretaker alive.

he’ll insist you rest—literally picking you up if he has to. “i don’t care what you say, you’re sittin’ down.”

he trusts you, but he doesn’t trust anyone else.

if another guy even thinks about flirting with you, shane’s mood shifts instantly—shoulders squared, arms crossed, jaw tight. the energy around him changes, heavy and warning.

the guy doesn’t get the hint? shane makes it clear. his voice goes low and sharp, a dark smirk tugging at his lips. “i think you’re confused, buddy. she’s taken.”

but his possessiveness isn’t just about other men—it’s about keeping you close.

if you disappear for too long, he gets restless, pacing, snapping at people, searching for you like a man losing his mind. the second he sees you, his hand is on your waist, gripping tight.

he’s not good with words when it comes to affection, but his actions speak for him. if he finds a can of your favorite food, it’s yours. if he senses danger, you’re behind him before you even realize what’s happening.

jealousy. shane doesn’t like competition, even if it’s just a conversation. he has that sharp, narrowed stare, his jaw tightening when another man gets too friendly.

if you call him out on it, he scoffs, “ain’t nothin’. just keepin’ an eye out.”

but let’s be real—he’s intense. he loves with the same energy that he fights with. his grip is firm when he touches you, his kisses are heated, and when he holds you at night, he holds you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

𐙚 arguments with shane.

shane doesn’t do passive-aggressive.

if he’s mad, you’ll know. his hands will go to his hips, his jaw clenched, his voice tight and biting. “oh, so that’s how it is?”

if you try to walk away first? forget it. he’ll step in front of you, blocking your path, voice low and rough: “we ain’t done talkin’.”

if he ever loses it in front of you and takes thing too far, he feels immediate regret.

the fire in his eyes dims, his hands rubbing over his face like he’s trying to shake off the anger. “shit… i didn’t mean—”

if you’re the one who’s mad at him? it drives him insane. he can take the world turning against him, but not you.

he’ll follow you around, getting frustrated the longer you ignore him, voice rough with irritation: “c’mon, don’t do this. talk to me.”

but the aftermath of an argument is where you see his real feelings.

after arguments, his touches turn softer. like he’s trying to prove something without saying it.

he’ll rest his forehead against yours, breathing deep, his hands running over your arms, your back, just making sure you’re still there.

shane doesn’t apologize easily, but his guilt is obvious—he’ll linger near you, offer you extra food, or fix something you were struggling with.

if you cry? game over. his whole demeanor shifts. his voice drops to something softer, and he’ll run a hand down his face thinking of ways to make it up to you.

𐙚 shane’s confession.

shane is the kind of guy who fights his feelings. hard. he’s been burned before, and deep down, he doesn’t think he deserves love.

shane fights it for as long as he can.

love makes you weak—that’s what he tells himself. but with you? it doesn’t feel like weakness. it feels like something he doesn’t deserve but can’t live without.

the confession doesn’t come easy.

it happens after an argument, frustration bubbling over into something raw. his voice is rough, breath ragged as he finally snaps: “you think i don’t care? hell, i’ve been losin’ my mind over you! every time you walk away, i’m scared i ain’t gonna see you again!”

when the words finally come out, it’s desperate. like he’s afraid if he doesn’t say it now, he never will.

he grips your arms, eyes wild, searching yours like he needs you to understand just how deep this runs. “i love you. you hear me? and i ain’t lettin’ you go.”

𐙚 shane’s love language.

acts of service & physical touch.

his kisses are hungry, his hands gripping your waist, your neck, your jaw—always holding you like he needs to feel you real and solid under his touch.

he’s always touching you—not just in private, but in front of everyone.

hand on your lower back, fingers wrapping around your wrist when he leads you through a crowd, an arm slung over your shoulder to make sure everyone knows you’re his.

he’s not the type to say “i love you” all the time, but he’ll make sure you eat, clean your weapons, and stand between you and danger.

he’s not a big talker about feelings, but sometimes, when the world is quiet, he lets things slip.

his voice is low, almost gruff, as he murmurs, “don’t know what i’d do without you.”

and if you ever call him out on it? he just smirks, shakes his head, and pulls you closer like that’s answer enough.

only you get to see the softer side of shane walsh.

when it’s just the two of you, his walls drop—he doesn’t have to be the tough guy.

it comes out in quiet moments—when he pulls you close at night, his face buried in your hair, his arms wrapped tight around you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

when he thinks you’re asleep, his hands never stop moving—thumb brushing your cheek, fingers gripping your waist, lips ghosting over your forehead. his breathing steady but deep like he’s trying to memorize the feeling of you beside him.

𐙚 when shane thinks he’s losing you.

shane doesn’t just fear losing you—he’s obsessed over it. it gnaws at him, a constant, quiet fear in the back of his mind.

if you’re injured, shane panics. not outwardly— he’s barking orders, carrying you like you weigh nothing, pushing through exhaustion and fear.

but the moment he’s alone, it hits him like a punch to the gut.

his hands would tremble as he patched you up, his voice rough with guilt. “that was stupid. brave, but stupid. i’m supposed to protect you.”

if you go missing, he loses it. he’s frantic, aggressive, doing whatever it takes to get you back.

when he finds you, his relief is so overwhelming it almost hurts. he grips your arms, breathing hard, his forehead pressing against yours. “don’t—don’t ever do that again.”

if you ever get distant—whether from trauma or doubt—shane doesn’t know how to handle it. he doesn’t do well with silence.

if you shut him out, he gets frustrated, desperate. he’ll grab your wrist, force you to look at him, voice cracking as he asks, “what’s wrong? just tell me what i did, and i’ll fix it.”

and if you ever tried to leave him, he wouldn’t let you.

not in a cruel way, but in a shane way—raw, relentless, determined. he’d track you down, stand in front of you with that fire in his eyes, breathing hard like he just ran miles. “you ain’t leavin’ me. i won’t let you.”