#chose x reader

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 25. messed up

chapter tags/warnings: naoya fucks toji's ex-wife again. aggressive sex. creampie-ing. misogynistic! naoya. hurt/comfort. naoya views women as nothing but a hole. broken marriage. heavy angst. infidelity/adultery. family drama. strong language. manipulation undertones. corruption. 

word count: 4.1k

notes: thank you always for all the support! on to the plot for our final arc! this beginning excerpt is a rewording from a line in “spy x family” (any fans out there?) that i believe captures the dynamics in our characters as well. enjoy! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

❝ Every person has a self that one conceals, a side not shown to anyone else. Not to friends. Not to lovers. Not even to family. Behind lies and painted smiles, individuals shield their true natures and desires…and, in doing so, the world thus maintains its thin veneer of peace. ❞

Who in the world was Toji Zenin?

The Toji that you had always known was Toji Fushiguro, so what was your husband’s cognomen doing besides your sex therapist’s first name on the latter's university diploma?

Even Google seemed to deny that Toji Zenin existed.

Showing results instead for ‘Toji Fushiguro.’

No, that was not what you wanted! 

One step forward in understanding this enigmatic man might as well be three steps backward because, each time you thought you had learned something about him, you only come to the realization that nothing much had been discovered at all.

But as investigations via search engines, social media sites, and Wikipedia pages proved futile, sources that could quell your curiosity dwindled.

So, you turned to your last resort.

“Who’s Toji Zenin?”

“What—”

Across from you, the raspberry macaron in Mai’s hand stopped by her lips as the girl snapped her focus from the pastry to your unanticipated question, with Maki visibly turning stiff in the adjacent chair. The three of you sat surrounding a small table in the twin’s private lounge, located in the northern wing within the Zenin residence. 

Visiting the central family property was not uncommon ever since your engagement and wedding earlier this year, but the architecture would never fail to impress you. The mansion itself resembled the Imperial Palace more than anything—an edificial centerpiece defined by the elegance and simplicity inherent in traditional Japanese design, with latticework embellishing the wooden exterior and, inside, carefully painted doors opening into tatami rooms.

Given that Mai and Maki were back in Tokyo for their summer breaks from universities abroad, the sisters established themselves as your close friends and had brought you into their tea room, adorned with European furnishings that would come off as atypical compared to the Japanese heirlooms elsewhere in the residence. On the table sat an imported tea set from England, at the center a French-inspired pastry tower prepared with caramel-topped croquembouches, chocolate-covered profiteroles, and the like. 

In great admiration, the sisters had been barraging you with inquiries about your life back in your bachelorette days, asking about your volunteering trip to the Philippines or the charity auctions in Dubai.

Now, with the shift in discussion, the sisters exchanged an uneasy look.

An entire conversation appeared to be held in the way they traded glances. The usual sparkle in their eyes faded, which must mean the girls were remarkably uncomfortable, but Mai forced a polite smile as she placed down her macaron. 

“Y/N,” she began carefully, “May we ask how you know Toji?”

Even though she tried to spin the question as casual curiosity, her apprehension could not be more obvious. 

“I don’t know him, really,” you lied. While dishonesty went against your morals, watching the twins’ shoulders fall with relief was enough to assuage the guilt. ��He’s just…” My friend, to put things in the mildest terms. “He’s just a name I have heard. That’s all.”

Maki dabbed at her mouth with a lace handkerchief, not making a big deal as she added, “Toji’s a cousin.”

So, the Zenin last name on his diploma was not a coincidence at all. 

Such a groundbreaking discovery should have thrown you into a whole whirlwind but, to be frank, the realization did not come off as too surprising at all. If anything, Toji as a member of the Zenin family was the perfect explanation to why Toji seemed so astute, why he would talk like he knew more about Naoya than you, and—as Geto had once said—why Toji was ‘not where he could possibly be.’ 

While Toji’s reason for opting for the Fushiguro name remained a mystery, what you did know now was that he was indeed affiliated with the twins before you by blood, which—by extension—must mean that Toji would also be a cousin to…

…your husband. 

Wait.

An unsettling chill ran down your spine.

“Cousins, as in,” part of you didn’t want to know the answer, “distant cousins? Or…?”

“No,” the older twin interjected matter-of-factly, not knowing the full background behind your seemingly innocuous question. “First cousins.” 

Ah, so the closest type of cousins possible, which was exactly what you had hoped not to hear. With this additional information, you tried to hide the clamminess in your palms. What would be the best word to describe this void now? Did you feel disappointed? Misled? Betrayed? Toji certainly had known that you were wed to his younger cousin, yet he willingly chose to hide his background as he kissed you, touched you, and fucked you.

A reversal from your sentiments before, you currently felt both disgusted and hurt.

Why did Toji keep this information from you? What sick person derived satisfaction from having sex with his first cousin’s wife? You were so damn stupid for placing all your trust in him. Looking at the situation now, he was just another iteration of the same manipulative and disrespectful man you had been trying so hard to avoid. 

“Are you close with Toji?” 

Mai shook her head. “No. We don’t talk to him anymore.” Her comment struck as odd. Anymore? Had they once been, then? Before you could ask, her gaze darted around in caution before she leaned forward and said lowly, “For your information, Naoya got into a huge dispute with him earlier this year.”

That’s quite recent. 

You understood that Mai and Maki had been uncharacteristically tight-lipped as they did not want to slander the family heir in front of his wife. Blissful ignorance was what the twins must be thinking, hoping to preserve the peace between you and your husband. However, what you had yet to reveal was the broken marriage that had been masked for everyone’s sake, disguised by a pretense that all was well.

Which was why, on that note, the timing could not have been more perfect as a tall young man with ombre hair and hazel eyes flung open the door in one unforgiving slam, rattling the fine china and startling the seated individuals inside.

“There you are, you whore!” 

Your eyes widened with shock upon seeing Naoya Zenin in the entryway, your husband’s scowl icy and malicious. He came stomping toward you as his eyes held a dangerous hostility that was impossible to ignore, and you could oddly sense an impending doom when he stormed with zero regard for anything in his path, kicking aside a potted plant and toppling over a ceramic vase.

Standing up, you tried to hide the confusion that befuddled your already mish-mashed brain. 

Today was Tuesday.

Was he not supposed to be at work?

“Naoya,” you began calmly, cognizant of the onlooking sisters behind you, “this is not the right place to—”

“You’re such a fucking desperate bitch, aren’t you?” His words were sharp and bitter, his glare filled with hatred like a fire doused with gasoline. Before you could request clarification, he stopped steps away and swung his right hand up, pressing a black business card to your stunned face, the paper crinkled from his intense grip and rendering you petrified in your stance. 

No, this couldn’t be…

From your peripheral view, you watched Mai and Maki place their hands over their open mouths as they read Toji Fushiguro’s calligraphed name on the business card that also had in obvious words: 'sex therapist.' Shame racked your stomach. Merely minutes ago, you convinced the twins that Toji was to you nothing more than a name, and now, karma bit you back like a bitch. 

With your voice evaporated, you croaked.

“Where did you find that?” You had been sure that you placed the badge away.

Naoya used his anger to crumple the card and tossed the now useless paper ball to the side. “In your purse,” he gritted, “How long were you planning to hide this from me?”

The ensuing guilt suffocated you. “I—” I don’t know.

Sensing the weakness in your will, Naoya burst into a maniacal laughter that cracked through the air, creating a disconcerting symphony. He bent forward, shoulders convulsing with every diabolic and mirthful guffaw. 

“You’re so god fucking pathetic, woman. Do you have any idea who Toji Fushiguro is? That bastard is Toji Zenin, you ignorant slut—he is my cousin. Well, I guess I never told you about him, though, because he doesn’t fucking matter anymore anyway. I don’t know how you ended up crossing paths with him, but this is hilarious!” The man kept cackling and roaring like he had gone insane. “Were you two brewing shit about me? Actually, let me guess since you’d gotten hold of this business card: did you have sex with him? Did you have sex with Toji? Going around fucking your husband and then your husband’s cousin is nothing to be proud of. Tell me, did you meet the other sex therapists as well? Did you get stretched out by them, too? Whose dick did you like best? Whose? Whose? Is that what you like, being passed around and used like some sick trophy? What a fucking animal! How dare you disrespect our marriage. How dare you disrespect your own hus—”

Your hand lashed out before you could suppress the impulse and delivered one resounding slap across Naoya’s face. You watched him shut up and stumble backward, clutching his cheek. 

"Ow!"

For a moment, the world seemed frozen still: the sisters gaping in complete stupefaction, your husband staring at the ground wide-eyed, and you heaving from the incoming emotional onslaught.

”How dare you…How fucking dare you disrespect me!” The coalescence of anger, agony, and resentment—bottled up in your heart for months upon months—was now being released as you dissolved into tears. “What the hell is wrong with you?! How could you say such messed up things? You are sick in the head, Naoya, you know that? Out of respect for myself, how could I possibly respect you?!” The only sound echoing in the room became your uncontrollable cries, sobs that escaped past your lips in raw and muffled bursts. Torn apart by sorrow, you could hardly breathe from how constricted your throat had become, your knees wobbling and weak. “Y-You have no idea how lonely and miserable I have been since I walked down that aisle. For the past six months, you—as my husband—have done absolutely nothing but make me feel like a rat in my own home, a mistress in my own marriage!” 

“Fantastic! Exactly what I wanted to hear, I am glad I have made your life horrible!” Naoya snarled, not caring for how everyone else’s eyes widened at the scathing statement. Unbelievable. Truly, painfully unbelievable. Did your husband really just say that to your face? He could not give a shit that you wept pitifully, instead catching your shaky wrist in the tightest grasp possible as he added on, “My only regret is that I had not made your life even worse.” 

“What the fuck!” you heard Mai gasp as a gut reaction.

What the fucking fuck, indeed.

While you had been subject to Naoya’s verbal harassment during these many weeks, for him to tell you that he wished he had tortured you further was beyond heartless. The searing ache that burned your skin might as well be fatal because your respiration turned erratic like someone had trapped you inside a bubble.

Hyperventilating, you subsisted on shallow gasps.

“Don’t go around thinking that you’re any better, alright? You’re calling me pathetic for sleeping with your cousin, but have you considered that I had been placed in that position because, since the start, you’ve been cheating on your wife?” 

Yelling at his face allowed you to release more tears from your lachrymose eyes. Now, Mai and Maki must truly be appalled at all these revelations. What happened to the fairy-tale marriage you had told them about? Well, that never existed to begin with, and with these thoughts in mind, you found a sadistic satisfaction in watching your lawful spouse fume with deep-seated rage. 

“That’s right,” you mused with derision, “we’ve been two sides of the same coin all along.”

Naoya clenched his hands at his sides, disgusted to have been compared to you. “Do not put me on the same level as—”

“No. No, you don't get to talk! All you have done since we have been married is for you to talk and complain and bitch about everything, but now, this is my turn,” you screamed in return. “I…I hate you!” and you pointed right at him, “In fact, I despise you. You never tried to see what I had to tolerate to stay with an asshole like yourself because you had been too busy sticking your dick into another woman while you could hardly look at me! No wonder your cousins worried about me. No wonder Toji told me to file for a divorce. Because you, Naoya Zenin, are a total piece of shit!”

His momentary pause hinted at the tiniest self-actualization that flickered within him. Perhaps he finally realized how you had been feeling now that you freely spat out all the turmoil that had been chaining your soul. He took one additional step toward you, torn between whether he should keep up with his anger or succumb to remorse for hurting you.

But, knowing this man, he—of course—opted for the former. 

“I never,” he seethed lowly, “wanted this marriage.” 

Maybe you truly have become deranged or maybe you genuinely found his statement funny, for you began to emit tearful cackles in your laughter.

“Now, that is one big fucking lie.” Since your earliest encounter, Toji had suggested that Naoya solely regarded you as nothing more than ‘a sweet, innocent fuck,’ and the longer you had stayed with your husband, the more you began to acknowledge how these accusations were all true. “We all know that you’re going to be nothing without me. A CEO who could hardly keep his wife for half a year? What a loser. What makes you believe that I wanted to be married to you? Who do you even think would want to do business with you after this? You never had respect in the real world because all that respect rests upon me.”

While you never fully understood Naoya, your words must have snapped a particular chord in him because he suddenly lunged forward.

“Fucking cunt—” 

But before he could get too close, you darted away from him. “Don’t touch me!” you shrieked, voice shrill from the top of your lungs. “Do not ever touch me again. If you want to lay your dirty hands on someone, go touch your girlfriend instead!”

That’s right, he had another woman who he doted on far more than he could appreciate you. This wedding band, this engagement ring on your left hand meant absolutely nothing. Toji had been spot on—why the hell did you cling onto stupid shit like this, twisting the jewelry as if that would save your messed-up union? Without further empathy, you slid off the two rings and hurled them toward your husband’s chest before the circlets clinked upon hitting the ground.

At first, Naoya scoffed. He watched the ludicrous scene with a comical gaze, and when his brain processed what he just saw, he quickly fell onto his knees. All at once, he tossed his head back and let out a chortle—a full-bodied cachinnation that took the room completely aback—as his hysteria mounted.

“Good, good, good!” His screeches were like those of a maniac, his chuckles haunting, throaty, and lacking in sanity. “I’m glad that you’ve come to show the witch that you have been all along! Look at yourself! No wonder no one wanted you!”

Unable to be a bystander any longer, Mai stood up and hurled toward her cousin. “Shut the hell up, Naoya!” 

But the said man was quick, using one powerful movement to punch the older twin first. “You shut the hell up, scum. Unless you want to be pummeled to the point where people will feel sorry to look in your direction.”

“Watch what you say!” and when Naoya turned to the new voice, the evil glint gleaming from his brown eyes appeared ablaze.

“Oh? Someone’s bold, too. Shall I bully you first then, Maki?” the timbre in his disdainful laugh crescendoed into unhinged amusement. “Say one more word, little girl,” he taunted, his imp-like face riddled with mockery. “C’mon. I dare you. I will throw you into the courtyard and beat your ugly face up. That’ll bring back warm memories from the good old days, huh?”

The younger twin gritted her teeth, her sister reaching for her arm as a signal to back down and stay levelheaded.

Meanwhile, once Naoya rose from the floor, he nonchalantly kicked at the rings because those emblems of your union had always been meaningless garbage anyway.

“If wanted to leave this badly, then fucking leave,” he deadpanned, his tone the calmest he had been this whole time. “I don’t give a fuck anymore.” 

Those were your husband’s last words as he walked away, leaving you sobbing and shuddering with a lost soul and sore heart. While weeping and gasping, you had to endure watching his figure fade from view, all while wanting to stop the uncomfortable distress that heightened with his departure. You were huffing, panting, trying to stop your trembling.

The second Naoya slammed the door behind him, Maki ran up to your side and embraced your shaking form, all while you bawled and clutched at yourself. Her expression remained strong, but her palms were damp as they pressed onto your back, her arms quavering slightly as she soothed your cries.

“Sh, don’t cry. My sister and I are here, okay? Mai and I will protect you. Everything will be alright.”

Despite her reassurances, she sounded nearly as broken as you appeared, especially when your hand violently trembled because nothing could save you from the agony that drowned your tattered soul. You felt the disgusting urge to throw up—you were completely broken inside. In a futile attempt, you sought to regulate your breaths with one deep inhale.

Yet, at some point, Maki peeled back and she mouthed something.

Was she talking to you? 

Why…why could you not hear her?

She sounded so muffled, as though you were underwater.

Why did everything sound so far away?

With your throat constricted, you could not breathe. Gagging. Gasping. Big, huge gulps of air, but the oxygen failed to enter your lungs. You couldn’t breathe. You could not fucking breathe. 

You gripped the fabric by your chest and your other hand sought for something else to hold, but you ended up on the ground anyway. Choking. Coughing. Was something foaming at your mouth? Something warm and wet spilled from your orifices. Were you vomiting? Why were you vomiting?

Holding your body upright, Maki was the only reason that you had not remained on the floor like a fool, but even she stared at you with concern and…horror? Why did she look so scared? Was she screaming? She looked like she was screaming, but her face appeared all contorted like you were looking at her through a fish-eye lens. 

After a while, you could not even see her or her sister anymore because your vision turned spotty and then black. 

See! 

Open your eyes, and see! 

Why could you not see?

When your hearing returned to some degree, the sounds that filled your ears were frantic shouts and endless clamor.

“Call Toji! He’ll know what to do. Hurry, where is your phone?” It was Mai. Scrambling. Bags were being opened. Items being tossed. “Call Toji, now!”

A phone started to ring.

Buzzes and buzzes and more buzzes as the waiting intensified.

Then voicemail. 

Hello, this is Toji Fushiguro.  

“He is not picking up!” 

Unfortunately, I am unable to pick up the phone right now. 

“Get…”

But please leave your name and number—

“Get Megumi.” 

—and I will return your call as soon as possible.

“What about Tusmiki?”

“Tsumiki is still in London at university, idiot! Call…Call Megumi!”

“Okay. I know, I know! I’m calling him already!” someone screamed back. Was this Mai? Was this Maki? You could no longer tell, but the same person shouted, “Wait, wait. He is calling back. Toji is calling me back.”

“Then pick up the phone!”

“Toji…” one of the twins started, the cracks in her tone making her sound like she was weeping too, and her words composed your last bits of memory before the world dissolved completely. “Please…help us.”

Even labeling Naoya Zenin as ballistic would be far too much of an understatement.

The rage, wrath, and sheer indignation that swelled in his every capillary surpassed the twenty-five years' worth of virulent rancor that he had for his fucked-up family.

Since when did you get so goddamn arrogant? Naoya wanted to hurt you, ruin you, and do everything in his power to sabotage you. 

Not just you, though. Because that would be too easy.

But also his father, his cousins, his ex-coworkers, and—most importantly—Toji. 

Such ill feelings were what led the Zenin CEO to practically leap into the Mercedes-Benz that awaited him at the entrance to his family home, and he immediately ordered his chauffeur to press on the pedal toward a very certain condominium several kilometers away.

Fifteen minutes later, a very surprised Mari opened her door and an enraged Naoya greeted her, shoving her against the wall and colliding his lips into hers for a fierce kiss. His actions lacked passion, only charged with aggression as he stripped her and threw her onto the living room sofa. He could hardly care that he treated the woman as though she was nothing more than a prostitute, while the latter mistook her boyfriend’s rage for desperation, and she begged for him to pull at her hair and force his tongue down her mouth. 

At some point, Naoya drove his mistress’s face into the couch cushion and dragged her hips to have her ass raised high. He was too clouded by fury and too blinded by anger to think twice before he forcefully penetrated the woman. He fucked her raw and held her close, jostling her body as though she was a ragdoll, eliciting her loudest mewls that cried for his name. 

“J-Just like that!” she whimpered, eyes rolling to the back of her head as he pummeled into her dripping hole, paying no mercy for destroying her with his ruthless pace. Her knees gave out from under her, and she crumbled from the sofa and into the carpet, only for him to tumble too to follow the socket he needed to keep his dick soaked. 

“I need to break you,” he hissed.

Fuck, he was going to come soon. 

His nails left crescent marks on her flesh, his hands burning her scalp as he tugged her strands and met her buttocks with hard thrusts, and he knew he was going to come. 

Feeling the first of his seed trick into his mistress’s life-giving cavern, he toyed with the idea of giving Tsumiki and Megumi a baby sibling. That would be fun. He could then imagine the subsequent mortified reactions from his deplorable cousin and from his wretched wife (whom he would hardly call himself married to anymore, anyway). The fantasies, everything that he would do to spite those who had wronged him, had Naoya cackling as his viscous cum spurted from his tip and deep into his mistress’s womb.

He pulled out once he made sure that every single drop had been milked from him, his ejaculate dribbling from her pussy like someone had taken a bite from a cream-filled donut.

Rolling into the carpet and onto her back, a panting Mari took two fingers and pressed his precious seed back into her cunt. “That was so hot.” A lazy smile pulled across her face. “Thank you for the unexpected visit.”

Naoya completely dismissed her comments as he tucked himself back into his pants, not in the right mood to respond. 

“Cool. Clean this mess up,” he demanded instead, “I’m leaving for work.” 

He ignored the woman’s ensuing pleas to stay at least five minutes longer. Unlike her, he had better things to do, and he rushed out as he fetched his phone from his back pocket and surveyed for any messages he might have missed while he had been away. 

But when he turned on his screen, his most recent notification had his blood turn cold.

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: The absolute fury in the argument, the complete panic between the twins, and the maniacal temperament in our husband…so much packed in this chapter! If you can’t tell already, my favorite POV to write from is Naoya’s, ha. Also, I took some creative liberty here to convey the intense emotions, so let me know what you think! Hugs to all.

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

[katescorner]

suna "we're just friends" rintaro who's actually in a secret relationship with you, but feels the need to keep it a secret until it gets more serious because he's scared. except the miya twins have caught on, and they have a running bet going for who's going to spill first. atsumu thinks suna would rather keel over than admit to them he's dating someone, but osamu is smugly convinced that his friend's resolve is weaker than yours. so they decide to put it to the test.

it starts off . . . weird. osamu is putting moves on you, and you have no idea what to make of it. he's asking to walk you home and tells you that you should come to watch them practice. he even shoves atsumu out of their usual seat in the cafeteria to invite you to sit next to him. he seems really interested in you, and you don't want to be mean, but you also can't lead him on.

you're too focused on osamu's strange behavior to notice that he only acts this way when suna is around. so you don't see the way your boyfriend clenches and unclenches his fists when he overhears osamu wanting to walk you home after school. you don't hear the huff he lets out or how he slams his locker door a little harder when osamu invites you to watch them play with a well practiced smile. and you certainly don't realize the sheet white paleness that grows on his face when osamu shoves atsumu off the bench to make space for you.

suna doesn't blame you. his friends are idiots and getting on his last nerve. but everything comes to a screeching halt when osamu puts his arm around your shoulder, and suna absolutely loses it.

"we're dating!" it's the closest he gets to yelling without actually, but it's loud.

"damn it!" atsumu shouts, but suna doesn't hear. he practically has tunnel vision, zeroed in on where osamu connects to you.

"we're dating," he repeats through gritted teeth. "so get your grimy slimy spiker little hands—" he stalks over to osamu with surprising speed to knock his hand off of you, "off of my—"

"rintaro," you scold softly, and the twins try not to react when their usually unbothered and finicky middle blocker . . . listens?

"he—you're my—i'm—" he erupts in an aggravated groan and quickly decides to pull you to his side, away from osamu.

suna starts mumbling things under his breath they can't hear. his words are clearly reserved only for you, but the twins watch quietly anyway as you smooth away the worry lines growing on his face from his furrowed eyebrows and press a soft kiss to his cheek that has leaves them dusted in the slightest pink. he's whipped, and suddenly the only thing the miyas could think of was—how the hell did they not notice sooner?

yes i'm a soft lovesick sunarin truther. that man is a simp and i take no arguments

[lologoinsolo]

Main Masterlist, Cats and Their Men Masterlist, Part 2

Thinking about Simon with a runt of a kitten and it’s barely the size of his palm. Also thinking about the poor cashier that’s stumbling over her words when that hulking man has a kitten fisted in his palm and he just jerks it forward.

“U-Uh, sir, we can’t— I can’t keep that.” His eyes make you shrivel up and you delicately hold the little kitten in your hands. “We uh— the store can’t hold animals we only sell the stuff that animals need.”

He looks at you like that’s not what he’s wanted to hear. Granted you’ve had a couple people come up to try and surrender or drop of their animals like it’s a pound. “I need things for the cat.” He says and you feel like maybe you shot yourself in the foot.

You have a line piling up behind him but no one seems to dare speak up. Why would they when this guy could lay them flat out? Jesus what are they feeding this guy? Steroids and protein powders? You think before swallowing thickly. “I can… I can get my coworkers to—“

“No.” He reaches forward and you flinch when he picks up the kitten and holds it to his chest. “You’ll help.” Nodding off and he starts to walk leaving you dumbfounded and confused. He walks a couple steps before he turns to you with a ‘well?’ look on his face.

You hurriedly grab your pager and call for someone to go through the line while you help this guy. Leading him down the aisle for the litter and you list off the different types. “There’s crystal litter, wood pellets and those are pretty good when it comes to smell. We have tofu litter and that—“

“Does it need something fancy to shit in?” He cuts off the beginning of your speech with a huff. He sounds a mix of annoyed and amused with how you bristle from his remark. You’re tempted to leave, your manager can bitch later about you doing that butttt the kitten against his chest meows and you find that you can’t leave the little thing to suffer because their dad’s a right prick.

“Sir,” you take a breath, “the litter is moreso about preference. Do you want to hide the smell of their… ya know… poop better? Or would you prefer something that clumps or something that’s easy to clean?” You wait… and wait some more before he finally says.

“Pick one.”

You blink at him and he mimics it that bastard. He just stares the entire time you have this little contest. You’re starting to feel like you should’ve called out of work. You knew today would be horrible, your instincts never lie. “Okay,” taking a deep breath and spitefully picking the most expensive and heaviest litter that your store sells. You yank it off the shelf with a groan. If it’s hard for you to lift then he’ll probably have the time of his life having to lug this home. He doesn’t seem to care about the pricing nor the weight though as he grabs the litter from your struggling arms. He shoves the kitten back to your empty hands. “I—“ you stumble over your words, trying to come up with something but he beats you to it.

“Where’s the food she need?” Lifting it onto his shoulders, the muscles bulging as he holds that thing with ease.

“Well she,“ you cough to keep from ogling too much. “Will need some kitten food and maybe some wet food later on. A good kibble would be good to add later on once she gets older,” holding the kitten up gently and her little green eyes blink at you. You prod softly at her teeth to make sure she can handle those foods. You’re hoping she’s not to young or she’ll need kitten formula. You then check her ears and see some red marks. Noticing the little black specs moving about her neck and you cringe. “And a good flea bath. Poor thing,” petting the little baby as you walk off to grab a flea comb. He’ll have to buy it anyways so you’ll make use of it now. You pick at her fur with the comb and squish whatever fleas that you find, you hate those little fuckers. “What’s her name?”

You’ve noticed he’s as silent as a grave this customer of yours. He’s hardly said a peep besides caveman grunts and nods. If it wasn’t for him nearly against your side then you would’ve thought he ran off. That black surgical mask makes him look like he’s something important. Maybe mafia or something possibly dangerous. But… he did come in holding this tiny kitten and isn’t batting an eye at the things you’ve been telling him he’ll need to get for his new pet. Perhaps he’s nicer than your judgement of him is.

You clear your throat, he probably didn’t hear you since he hasn’t tilted his head down. “Does she have a name?” You ask once more and he pulls to a stop, he had came back with a cart earlier when there were too many things for him to hold in his tree trunk arms. It was comical seeing him try to hold a litter box, scratching post, and various foods though.

He doesn’t answer save for the roll of his shoulders that looks like it could be counted as a shrug. You mouth an ‘oh’ before you mind your business. He probably just found her or he’s gonna foster and send her off. Better to not get attached…

You chatter off the things he’ll need to do. See a vet, get her spayed, make sure she has no health problems, the usual things that you mention to pet parents. The little thing in your hands is a curious thing, she wiggles about constantly. Eager to move and escape your hands and arms. Tiny tail flicking about and the meowing and pawing is cute, makes your heart squeeze when he plucks her from your hands and he holds her close. You push the cart along and stop at the toys and bowl aisle.

“Well,” you pull some toys off the shelf, crinkle toys and mouses that should help with those prey instincts. “She’s a sweetheart. I’d probably call her Bailey,” you smile fondly and his brows furrow at your advice. Grabbing the kitten shaped bowls and hurriedly putting them in the cart when you squirm under his eyes. “Oh uh, my brother always wanted a cat named Bailey. It’s a nice name but if you don’t want to call her—“

“Bailey,” he holds her up a little and the kitten paws at his face. Her little nails snag on the fibers of his mask and he pulls them off quickly. “Better than garbage, yeah?” He speaks to the kitten like a human. There’s a crinkle besides his eyes and you realize he’s smiling but when you catch what he said you drop this cactus scratcher you thought he should buy her by accident.

“Garbage?” You look aghast. You’ve heard all kinds of names but never something like that. Quickly picking the cactus scratcher back up and placing it in the piling up cart. “You’d call her that?”

He shrugs his massive shoulders again. “S’where I found ‘er.” Grumbling his reasoning. He glares at the kitten like she’s the cause of his problems. “Couldn’t sleep with’er howling and rummaging about. Made a mess that I had to clean.”

You blink a bit and now it makes some sense why he’s so… snappy? “Well… maybe she knew you’d get her if she was loud enough.”

He scoffs, “she bit and hissed at me.” He rubs his finger over her head and you notice the little red marks on his hands. “Feisty little shit shoulda left ya out in the cold.” She nips at him and he chuckles something deep.

You can’t help the smile that reaches your face. She plays with his fingers and he doesn’t flinch when she bites hard or digs her nails in. He just looks down at her with something akin to wonder and begrudged responsibility.

You pull him to your cash register and his kitten racks up a pretty hefty bill but he pays for it with wads of cash. You don’t speak on the weird crumbled bills nor the faint reddish brown color. You simply bag his items and put them in his cart. “If you need anything, sir. Come find me and I’ll help, okay?” You can’t believe you said it AND actually ment it. What can you say, you love cats more than people and that little thing won your heart as easily as she won his.

He gives a gruff nod and pushes his cart out with on hand. The kitten is pushed into his coat pocket to hide her most likely from the cold outside. She pokes her head out to give a complaint but he just gently pushes her back in. He leaves without waving and you’re left to wonder if he’ll come back. You kinda hope he does come back.

[movrningstxrs]

MR. (AND MRS.) TODD

e-e-english teacher jason. that is all. REBLOGS and COMMENTS are greatly appreciated

gotham academy, an esteemed and prestigious institution responsible for teaching and fostering the bright young minds of the city’s wealthy elites.

but when your future was a given, predetermined and handed over on a silver platter as a result of your parents’ money and influence, not much thought was given to the mundane school assignments and exams that most children worried about.

instead, study periods and group discussions were centered around the latest school gossip and drama, with one popular, recurring topic being that of yours and jason’s love life—or more specifically, lack thereof.

as the two youngest teachers and faculty members at the academy, with pretty faces to match, was it really a surprise that most of the student population was keen to see the two of you together?

the art and english teachers, two peas in a pod, destined to be together like the female and male leads of a cheesy rom-com movie.

there were signs, too, according to your students. like the small, subtle smiles exchanged in passing in-between classes, or the way your bodies seemed to be drawn to one another like magnets, always ending up next to each other at every school function and event.

and to youngsters who’d yet to fully understand the concept of boundaries, there was no clearer indication!

the only problem was that you were both married, and not to each other, much to everyone’s disappointment. but all of that would come to change one fateful day.

it was the second to last period on a wednesday afternoon. jason was at the chalkboard, going over his notes on the latest act of ‘romeo and juliet’ with the class, when a sudden knock rang from the door.

there you were, a meek and apologetic smile on your face as you walked in and handed back to him a set of keys, completely oblivious to the way your fingers ever so fleetingly touched, along with the multiple pairs of eyes that had caught sight of the ‘scandalous’ interaction.

“oh my god, did you see that?!”

“just kiss already!”

“mr. todd, are you sure that you guys are ‘just friends?’”

“enough, you little menaces,” jason demanded in halfhearted annoyance. “get back to writing. all of this information will be on your exam.”

“boo! you’re no fun!”

a call of your name. “miss, would you ever consider dating mr. todd?”

“…i don’t think that’s an appropriate question for school,” you expertly redirected.

“we’re not hearing a ‘no!’”

a fond chuckle escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you found yourself ever increasingly more amused by the children’s non-stop antics, much to jason’s apparent disapproval and displeasure.

preparing to take your leave, you rhetorically asked in good humour, “any other questions?”

a single hand immediately shot up—its owner, stoic and dignified, yet his eyes gleamed with a dangerous spark of exasperation and chaos.

oh no.

“…yes, damian?”

“when will you and todd be next available to join the rest of us for family dinner night?” damian casually inquired, purposefully blind to the intensity of his brother’s scalding glare. “father says that he ‘misses seeing his favourite daughter-in-law.’ ridiculous, considering the fact that you’re his only daughter-in-law.”

the class fell silent as the implications of damian’s words lingered in the air.

you blinked once, slowly, mind still processing as you turned to glance at your husband. jason only sighed in response, tired and defeated, his lesson plans evidently tossed out of the window for the day, as the class quickly erupted into complete hysteria.

“excuse me, what?!”

“i knew it!”

“we’ve been bamboozled!”

with your long-held secret now out in the open, you resisted the urge to smirk as you pretended to ponder damian’s question for a moment, letting out a contemplative hum before you coolly answered, “we can probably make some time next week. right, honey?”

“sure, love,” jason replied, pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt a sudden, oncoming headache. he pointedly chose to ignore the squeals of excitement coming from the back of the room at his term of endearment for you.

“good,” damian nodded in approval.

with an amused wave goodbye, you almost felt sorry for your poor husband when you noticed the look of pure anguish on his face as you hastily made your escape and left him to fend for himself.

once in the hall, you could faintly hear a voice asking, “wait, does that mean damian’s related to mr. todd?”

“not by blood, but yes, unfortunately,” came your brother-in-law’s irritated response. “now, never bring my familial relationships up in my presence ever again.”

[humanjarvis]

whoosh!

for the sixth time this period, a folded sheet of notebook paper whizzes through the air and smacks into your body. 

the culprit? same as the first five times. 

caleb was trying to master his evol by the start of junior year, dead set on perfecting it before he drowned in assignments, sports, and college prep. practicing at home wasn’t enough, he’d said, so he’d taken to bending gravity at school now, too. 

it was a noble effort—he was the most determined teenage boy you’d ever seen. but unfortunately for you, that determination had him floating notes over to you in class every day.

today’s was a paper airplane that always flew just within your reach, pricking your neck or your arm or the back of your skull. but before you could grab it, he summoned it back to him like a boomerang. apparently, just within your reach wasn’t good enough. his aim had to be perfect, and his target was your desk.

“stop it,” you hiss the moment your math teacher turns her back. “this is why you always have to help me with my homework. you’re distracting me.”

wide, unapologetic eyes gleaming in delight, caleb shrugs. with an innocent grin, he gestures for you to turn back around so he can try again. 

but before you get the chance, an accusatory drawl stops you in your tracks.

“is there a problem here?”

“no ma’am,” caleb answers sweetly while you freeze in your seat, feeling your cheeks flame with embarrassment. “she was just makin’ sure i could see the screen over her head. it’s not as small as it used to be, you know,” he quips, earning a chorus of giggles from your classmates.

your teacher sighs in exasperation. “alright then, mr. xia. but don’t let it happen again, you two. or else i’ll have to separate you.”

shooting him one last exasperated glare, you grumble a defeated “yes ma’am” and turn your head to face the front. and for a while, class proceeds as usual—no notes, no disturbances, just complex equations on the screen ahead.

until a thin white object makes a smooth landing on your desktop, followed by a whispered “yes!” from behind you. jumping at the sudden movement, you scramble to unfold the airplane before your hawk-eyed teacher sets her sights on you again. 

and when you read the simple message scribbled on it, your heart swells despite the twitch in your eye.

you look nice today :D

[rainydaygotham]

spending the days the marks were destroying the earth not helping the heroes fight them but having a ‘romantic getaway’ with one of the marks who really missed his dimension’s version of you. and cecil can’t even say anything about it bc you effectively took this mark out of the game and thus saved a million lives and kept a major city from being destroyed. you technically did help, more than mark himself even, so cecil can’t say dick about shit lmao

[kokokoula]

here's a thought:

tsukishima kei is mean. he complains that you talk too much, laughs when you flunk your tests, and insists that you're clingy. others wonder why you're even with him.

but they don't know that when he tsks at your rambling, he shifts one side of his headphones away to hear your voice. they don't know that even though he teases you for your low test scores, he would stay up late at night just to tutor you till you'd get it right. they don't know that after rolling his eyes at your affection, he places a chaste kiss on your forehead and hides his red face in your hair.

so when they say you deserve better, you laugh at their cluelessness and state with a smile, "he's more than everything i could ever want." and he falls in love with you all over again.

[vasito-de-leche]

Can I request the Saja Boys revealing that they’re demons for the first time to their partner, Reader (separately please!). Instead of being scared of disgusted as they thought Reader would, Reader’s stunned before being excited over the fact, jumping for joy as Reader asks a bunch of questions about their heritage and fawning over their looks. I think I’d be cute, you know, having someone accept them for who they really are instead of some persona they portray!!

;KPOP DEMON HUNTERS BABY - "Would You Still Love Me?"

Baby Saja x Reader 2.3k words fluff It's rare for Baby to be serious about anything; so when he asks you to meet him late at night to talk, you can't help but get nervous.

this prompt is one of my faves because i LOVE getting freaky about blorbo's animal/demon/etc traits!

I actually had a few drafts for something similar for Abby and Jinu, so I hope you don't mind me posting a cuter Baby oneshot I whipped up in one sitting instead while I work on the others!

Baby knows the night air is freezing against your skin as yet another cold breeze blows past you, threatening to topple you over at this height. But you’re stubborn, always have been─when presented with the full view of the city from his balcony, in a not so quaint penthouse that he shares with the rest of the band, all you can do is sigh dreamily as you take in the sights. 

There’s a sparkle in your eyes when you gaze into the horizon and all the flickering lights beneath, and he can practically hear your heartbeat from behind the glass door separating both of you, swelling with emotion. He can see the glow of your soul, invisible to the naked eye. 

He wonders if you’ll continue to look so happy and content after what he’s about to confess. 

In one clean motion, he slides the glass door and steps into the night with a small hop, expecting you to hear his arrival. But you don’t, and he opts for his usual antics; Baby taps your right shoulder, before swiftly moving over to your left. He doesn’t bother to suppress his mischievous snickering as you twirl around in confusion, until your eyes land on him.

“Ha-ha. Very funny, Babs. What would’ve you done if I got so scared I ended up jumping off the building?”

“I got another meet and greet tomorrow, so honestly? I’d dive right after you.” 

That earns a smile from you and he leans both arms over the metal railing, resting his head atop while making sure to be within your personal space, bumping into your shoulder. You’re warm, so very warm─compared to him, whose body remains cold even in the hottest months of the year, a direct result of his demonic heritage. Every time you’ve pointed out just how uncomfortably cold his hands are, every time he’s planted his cold feet against your bare skin while you slept, Baby just chuckles and tells you that he just runs cold, that he’s cold-blooded; in truth, he can’t help being a walking dead corpse. 

But you never gave him any shit for that. 

You nudge him ever so slightly, breaking Baby out of a reverie. The way you still try to cuddle into him to leech off some warmth doesn’t go unnoticed, and his expression drops for a moment as he laments his own lack of warmth. His lack of life. 

“What did you want to talk about? Must be serious if you’re making a face like that.” When you try to imitate him, Baby rolls his eyes and tilts his head away, if only to avoid giving you the satisfaction of seeing his smile. 

“Whaaaaaatever, can’t a guy brood a little? I thought everyone was into that type of idol.”

“Trying to take Mystery’s role now, huh?” 

He scoffs in amusement at this. “Mystery? He doesn’t brood, he just sits there and seethes for the entire time! Do you know how hard it is to distract everyone, blinking these baby blues just ‘cause he didn’t feel like blowing a kiss to the public?” 

The banter comes so naturally, Baby finds himself rambling, poking fun at all the little things that irritate him while you poke fun at him for being so whiny, laughing at his reactions. You ask him, time and time again, “Why did you become an idol in the first place?” when he rants at length about his job. He can never give you a straight answer, and tonight is no different. Right away, Baby deflects. 

“Hush, hush, hush. Enough about that! If I wanted to talk shit about work, I’d just talk to Romance. You’re here because I have something very important to ask.” 

“I’m not covering for you again, Jinu got pissed and found out right away last time─” He puts a finger over his lips and hushes you once more, as if silencing a particularly rowdy crowd of fans. The ridiculousness of his antics is entertaining enough for you to cooperate. 

Your patient and happy expression is almost daunting; don’t you know he’s about to forever change the course of your relationship with just a few words? That tonight, you might come out of this building in tears, or worse if any of his bandmates find out he’s broken the rules and revealed himself to a human? The least you could do is look a little less excited to be here with him, making Baby reconsider his plans. He knows he’s fucked up when he feels you hold on to his shaking hand; two of your fingers wrap around his own as a way to comfort him, to encourage him. And he doesn’t need to look you in the eye to confirm this.

In fact, Baby doesn’t have the courage to look at you, not right now. 

He focuses instead on the horizon and the city that you love so much, full of all these people he couldn’t care less about but that your stupidly large heart can’t help but get attached to in all of your human glory. This is a big step, one he wants to take only because of how much you mean to him─you’ve let him into your world, it’s about time he did the same. You’re both equals in his eyes, after all. 

Slowly, Baby opens his mouth. “Would you love me if I was a worm?” 

“Huh?” There is a much lighter tone in your voice, and that’s when he turns around to check your reaction; blinking in confusion, gears turning in your head, looking perfectly caught off guard. His confidence returns now that he’s gained the upper hand of this one-sided powerplay. “I mean, I guess? Do I get to be a worm too or is it just you?” 

“That’s not what I asked─would you still love me if I was a worm?” 

“Hm, yeah. Even if I don’t get to be a worm with you, I’d still love you. Unless you were the slimy type, wait, no, I could keep you in a little cute bag and carry you around with me.” 

Baby grins, throwing his head back as he laughs at your answer. “You’d keep me in a bag? Like a damn chihuahua?!” 

“You bark exactly like one, why not?” 

“Right, okie dokie, I guess I don’t mind as long as the bag is comfy. So the answer is yes?” You nod in confirmation, and Baby starts pacing around the balcony, hands folded cutely behind his back. 

“Duh, of course I─”

He stops, back turned to you. “Great! So would you love me if I was a demon?” 

“Baby, you’re already a demon, I’ve seen you throw a tantrum over─” But your words are cut off as Baby moves with inhuman speed to stand right in front of you, trapping you against the metal railing of the balcony. His eyes shine golden in the moonlight, not round and soft like you’ve known them to be, but sharp and deadly. 

In your silence, the creature in front of you takes the chance to monologue, to fill in the silence and avoid his own thoughts to fester inside his mind─the last thing Baby wants right now is for Gwi-ma to find more dirt on him, more things to hold against him─and he gently rolls up the fluffy sleeves of his pink sweater, revealing the purple glow of those jagged patterns painting his skin. From the tip of his fingers to his forearms and beyond, underneath his clothes. He follows your line of vision, or rather, he guides it; soon enough, you’re looking at the exposed part of his neck, up his jaw and cheeks, and finally to his eyes. 

Everywhere you look is covered in patterns. So many of them. 

He hates the suspense, but he refuses to stumble and go back to your blissful ignorance. His pride and shame won’t allow him to half-ass this moment, and so Baby continues, allowing his sharp teeth to shine through and his skin to take on that familiar sickly blue hue he’s known for centuries. His claws clink as they hit the metal railing, his body now much lighter as the human disguise falls apart. 

A deep, rich purple fog envelops him, turning the soft pastels of his clothes into the deepest shade of black you’ve ever seen, until he’s wearing the proper attire for a demon of his status; a Grim Reaper. Would you still love him after this? After he tells you of all the things he’s done to get here? 

When you still don’t say anything, Baby reaches out a hand towards you as if offering you the chance to touch him and check for yourself. You do. Your fingers slide across his palm, flinching only for a second at the increased coldness of his being, and then towards the deadly razors of his fingertips, the rough texture so unlike anything you’ve ever felt. After that, you grow a bit more bold, now holding onto him and sweeping a thumb across his inner wrist, as if checking for a pulse. There is none. 

“Are these claws …?” Real? Yes. He used to wish for them to disappear, to be the result of a very tiring nightmare, but not anymore. This is him, his true─“...Retractable?”

“What.” 

“You know, like, can you get them in and out at will?”

"No, I know what retractable means!"

You gently prod at the pads of his fingers, looking for any reaction from said claws. You don’t seem to find what you’re looking for, but that does nothing to deter you. In fact, you look even more interested than before.

“Doesn’t seem like it, which means you just have these out all day. Man, that explains all the weird tears on your sweaters. Ooh, it’s super pointy! And these marks? Do they mean anything or are these just for aesthetic? They’re so pretty. And your clothes? I never thought you could pull off an edgy look! The hat is such a good touch.” 

The tables have turned; you’re the one practically pouncing on Baby, while he simply stands there, trying to process your words as you cup his face in your hands. No, you’re tracing the patterns on his cheeks, observing them. Your touch causes them to glow even brighter, the pink much more intense than before.

“And your eyes …” A knot forms in his throat at this unexpected inspection, but you hold him in place. 

For a moment, he feels like he’s about to pass out out of nervousness, but your voice and expression turn soft─he knows that face, he’s seen it so many times. Whenever he pretends to be asleep and you whisper sweet nothings in his ear, only to have him open one eye and tease you for such cutesy and cheesy clichés. When he makes you laugh so hard you snort and forget to breathe, and you have to physically fight him because all he can think about is making you delirious with happiness. He knows what you’re about to say, it’s so easy to guess. And his heart is not ready.

“Baby, you’re beautiful.” 

Is this how it feels to finally get everything he’s ever wanted? To be completely and utterly speechless? Bashful and soon-to-be violent with cuteness aggression, Baby tries to turn his head away from your loving gaze, he closes his eyes in his half-hearted attempt at breaking free, part of him wanting to hear you praise him more and more, another one unable to take the heat. But this only makes him even cuter in your eyes.

“Didn’t you hear me? Demon! I’m a DEMON.” Normally, he’d spell out the word for you in emphasis, but right now, Baby can’t trust himself to know a single thing about spelling when you’re bringing him closer to you, lips planted firmly against his cheek. “Agrrghhhghh─! You’re supposed to be scared! Or at least mildly uncomfortable!” 

“My boyfriend is a demon who can pull off every look ever and you want me to be scared? Does being a demon mean you lose a few braincells or what?” 

When you kiss the corner of his mouth, his patterns flicker for a moment and, for the first time in forever, Baby cannot hear the constant whispering of the underworld in his ear. But he’s much too busy fending you off. “Seriously, aren’t you even a little worried that I might steal your soul?” You pull away for a moment to shoot him an indignant yet playful look, and he immediately wraps both arms around your waist. 

“Aren’t you worried that I might tell the entire world that the Baby Saja is a demon gremlin?”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Baby scoffs, the pout so distinct in his voice. 

“See? And I know you would never steal my soul.” He pauses to consider this. You’re right, as always. 

Those demonic instincts of his covet the part of you that he lost─your soul, so bright and alluring, guiding him through the dark─but to simply rob you of it has no merit. Baby wants you to be the one to offer it to him, not out of obligation or fear, but out of devotion and love. If you did that, then maybe he could break free. No, absolutely not. He shakes these thoughts away on the spot. There’s no denying what he is. 

Baby lets out a sound that is somewhere between a whine and a growl, before hiding his face in the crook of your neck, basking in your pulse and warmth. If you love this side of him so much, who is he to keep you away from it? Who’s to say you two can’t rule the underworld together?

“I’d love you too, even if you were a demon like me.” 

“A demon power couple?” You ponder out loud with a hint of teasing, undoing the ribbon that holds his hat in place just so you can plant yet another kiss to the top of his head. “Not sure, the traditional goth vibe looks good on you but … It’s a bit too outdated for me, you know?” 

He chuckles at your joke, his breath tickling your ears. “You should see the fits Jinu wants us to wear for our last concert. Abby’s got a pair of Demonias and a fishnet crop top.” 

“No fucking way.” 

[lotusbxtch]

Put My Body To Work

Pairing: Jackson!Joel x f!Reader Word count: 622 Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI Tags: PWP, squirting (like this is a central part of the fic so if you don't like it, keep scrolling), unprotected PIV (do better, they're doing their best in an apocolypse), pulling out as a BC method, cum, fluids, seriously messy, allusions to fingering and oral (f receiving), Joel is a menace per usual, age gap implied but not specified, Reader is able bodied and has female genitalia but otherwise undescribed. a/n: the horny demons hath possessed me. don't know where this came from but it materialized in a group chat with @for-a-longlongtime and @mountainsandmayhem. happy hump day! bonus points if you can guess which Hozier song this is from.

Masterlist

Headcanon: Jackson!Joel finding out you’ve never squirted before — and after the apocalypse happened you didn’t really have access to any instructions on how to — and now he’s obsessed with being the first one to make you squirt. Once he gets you to do it the first time, he wants to get you to do it more often than not. 

After a little practice, he knows your body cues well enough to bring you to that peak easily using his fingers and tongue. Rhythmic, fast flicks of his wrist, his thick fingers buried in your sopping cunt, toying with your clit just right, and pressing right above your pubic bone has you crying out his name, your ecstasy spurting and soaking him at his command. Getting you there makes his chest puff with pride and salacious desire.

But now he wants you to do it on his cock.

He’s got you straddling him reverse cowgirl on his bed, both of you sitting up and facing his bedroom mirror, because he wants you to watch yourself as you squirt. 

“Y’look so beautiful when you do it, baby, want you to see for yourself,” he murmurs, encouraging you to work yourself on his dick, your body rolling and grinding and your whimpers like the sweetest song to him. Presses his big hand on your lower belly to help increase the pressure, your fingers swirling around your swollen clit.

Your thighs start to shake with exertion and he takes over, holding your hips up as he hammers into your sweet spot. Your brows knit together and your lips pop open, panting and moaning his name. Sweat shimmers like a veil across your skin and his, the scent of sex as thick in the air as the sound of your squelching cunt.

“C’mon sugar, you can do it,” Joel grunts into your ear, fingers dimpling your supple skin. “I feel you squeezing me so tight. Pretty pussy’s so soft and wet f’me.” His voice is tight with his impending release, but he’s holding himself back for you, for your pleasure. 

You feel the pressure mounting, and your whimpers become whines, louder and louder until you’re nearly screaming. Joel pumps his thick cock into you at the perfect pace, rocketing you higher and higher. Suddenly, you feel your nerves gathering at your core, strung taut like a bowstring.

“Oh fuck, Joel…” you whimper, “I think… I think I’m gonna… oh GOD…!”

The drop happens, and you shatter for him, orgasm rippling through your veins. Then, that delicious tension snaps. Just as Joel moves one hand from your hip to grip your chin, turning your face to the mirror, you squirt. Your wide eyes watch yourself in fascination as clear liquid sprays from the apex of your thighs across your lap, Joel’s cock, and the bedsheets. It is a sight to behold.

Joel moans devotedly. “Perfect little pussy squirting all over my cock… good girl, baby… so pretty….” he babbles. Then he’s biting a moan in half as he pulls out, cock pulsing and cum shooting across your pussy lips and inner thighs, dripping onto the bed.

You both collapse against each other on your sides, bodies slick and sticky. Breathing heavily, Joel whimpers as his cock gives one more small spurt against the small of your back, and then he’s kissing your neck, running his hands across the combination of fluids marking your bodies.

“Made a fuckin’ mess,” he huffs, holding you close against him anyway.

Your ass grinds against his lap, reveling for a moment in the debauched sensations. You hum contentedly, then turn your head to smirk at him, because you don’t give a damn this time. “Ain’t my turn to do the laundry, honey.”

Taglist (assuming you like horny menace Joel): @sin-djarin @penvisions @perotovar @mermaidgirl30 @whocaresstillthelouvre @jeewrites @joelmillerisapunk @qveerthe0ry @qunariagenda @syd-djarin @goodwithcheese @guiltyasdave @reggiesfilthylittlesecret @campingwiththecharmings @reallyrallyauthor @itwasntimethatdidit40 @baronessvonglitter @evolnoomym @hoeruiness @hellishjoel @kedsandtubesocks @luxurychristmaspudding @nicolethered @notjustjavierpena @javierpena-inatacvest @julesonrecord @slimybeth69 @chaotic-mystery @missdictatorme @max--phillips @ozarkthedog @oonajaeadira @ohhoneypascal

[kxsagi]

OMGGG HII😘😘😘

Can I have a hc of the blue lock guys of your choice (with our one and only goatsagi ofc) with a fem-present reader who likes to rough house them?? It's literally one of my love languages😍😍

“𝐰𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞”

a/n: HIII

i have a friend who's like this with her bf (they’re always trying to kill each other) so this was easy to write lol

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, bachira meguru

isagi yoichi

“love… LOVE, why are you tackling me before i’ve even had breakfast???” 

he loves that you’re so physical with him, but he’s also constantly being blindsided. 

you’ll jump on his back while he’s brushing his teeth and start trying to wrestle him and he’s like, mouth full of toothpaste: “???” 

he’s so competitive that once you challenge him to a wrestling match, it’s on. you’re both locked in battle on the floor like it’s the final round of the world cup. 

sometimes he lets you win but other times he’ll flip you onto the couch and smirk like, “not this time.” 

once tripped over a chair trying to dodge your flying tackle. he told people it was a training injury. 

itoshi rin

“what is wrong with you,” he says, deadpan, as you pounce on him mid-stretch. 

you are the only person allowed to manhandle rin without getting death-stared into oblivion. 

he pretends to hate it but secretly lets you get away with everything. throw a pillow at his head? he’ll just glare and then pat the couch next to him. 

“you’re so annoying,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist when you wiggle into his space. 

the first time you full-body tackled him while he was reading, he just laid there like a corpse until you gave up. then he pinned you and said, “my turn.” 

he does that thing where he grabs both your wrists with one hand like, “you’re weak,” and it always drives you feral. 

itoshi sae

sae.exe has stopped working. 

genuinely doesn’t know how to process the way you show affection. like, “you just punched me in the arm and smiled. are you mad or in love?” 

he figures it out eventually, and starts teasing you by egging you on. “is that all you got?” “you hit like a baby.” you’re on sight. 

he always stays annoyingly calm while you attack him. you’re throwing fake punches and he’s like, “mhm. cute.” 

once bear-hugged you from behind when you tried to run. dropped you on the couch like, “gotcha.” 

kaiser michael

oh he LOVES it. he lives for it. he is SO ANNOYING about it. 

you roughhouse him once and suddenly he’s picking you up like a sack of potatoes every chance he gets. 

“aw, you’re trying to fight me? that’s adorable. here, have a noogie.” proceeds to mess up your hair for five minutes straight. 

he lets you wrestle him because he loves how fired up you get. “careful, liebling, you’re looking a little obsessed.” 

once you bit his arm and he paused, blinked, and said, “… kinky.” 

sometimes you pin him just to kiss him. it’s effective. he stops talking. 

shidou ryusei

soulmate behavior. i repeat: soulmate behavior. 

the man is insane. he’s chasing you through the halls, trying to tackle you back. you two are feral. 

“finally, someone who understands me,” he says, mid-headlock. 

you start play-fighting and it turns into full-on wwe. clothes are flying. someone’s upside down. neighbors are calling the cops. 

he keeps score. he writes it on the wall in sharpie. he has a celebration dance when he wins. 

accidentally put a hole in the drywall once. he high-fived you. 

mikage reo

“wait, ow! baby?! what are you doing??” 

rich boy is NOT used to being handled like a rag doll but lowkey finds it… hot??? 

he acts offended when you tackle him but his eyes are sparkling. 

"you’re so violent when you’re in love. i respect that." dodges your next punch. 

once you tried to wrestle him in public and he yelped dramatically like, “AH! i’m being assaulted by my gorgeous girlfriend! someone call for help!!” 

he always gets his revenge later. usually via tickles. you regret everything. 

nagi seishiro

“ugh. do we have to move?” 

you’ll try to wrestle him and he’ll just go limp. like a cat being picked up by the scruff. total dead weight. 

“you can roughhouse me all you want if i don’t have to do anything.” 

one time he randomly activated and bodyslammed you onto the bed when you least expected it. “you started it,” he mumbled. 

he likes it when you sit on him like he’s a beanbag chair. even if you're elbowing him. “comfy,” he says, arm flopped over your waist. 

roughhousing turns into napping 90% of the time. 

bachira meguru

literal golden retriever energy. he is obsessed with you. obsessed. 

he tackles you at the same time you try to tackle him. it’s chaos. 

“you love me SO much, you just wanna fight about it!” 

full-on play wrestles you in public. doesn’t care who’s watching. he will chase you down the aisle at the grocery store. 

he calls it “love battles.” and yes, there’s a running leaderboard on the fridge. 

sometimes you’re cuddling and he randomly flips you and says, “round two!!” like bro we were NAPPING. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[jane-the-good]

CALEB: deceptive solitude

WORD COUNT: 3.5K

SUMMARY: Caleb comes home from a mission and is not very happy that you would accept anyone else’s help besides his

NOTE: I hope this card is Caleb’s equivalent to the scratch off event secret times audios bc those were such a treat and I love them dearly and need Caleb’s more than I need water ♡

WARNING: smut, unprotected sex, oral sex, angst, Caleb is wildly over protective, panty sniffer allegations are true

AO3 caleb masterlist

The sound of the front door creaks open, and a wave of anticipation surges through you. Caleb is home.

The thought alone floods your chest with warmth, it shifts in your ribs, so soft and certain. You listen as he moves through the entryway, the drop of his bag hitting the floor with practiced ease, a sound so familiar it should be comforting. Should feel like the final piece slipping into place. But something feels...off.

Seven days without him. The house has been too still in his absence, the silence stretching wide in all the spaces where he should be. Before he left, there was a rhythm, his assuring presence, his steady hands, the way he always seemed to know exactly what you needed before you could even ask. Now, the absence of his touch, his voice, has hollowed something out inside you.

You smile to yourself, already picturing him stepping into the room, that half-smirk tugging at his lips, the one that always makes your breath hitch. He’ll be tired, sure, but he’ll be here. He’ll fold you into his arms, press his lips to your hair, let you trace the shape of his face like you’re learning him all over again.

The sound of shower door closing resonates through the bathroom. The quiet, deliberate click of the lock sliding into place.

You hesitate. A frown tugs at your brow. He hasn’t even come to see you.

Slowly, you rise, something uneasy curling in your blood as you step toward the bathroom. The door is cracked just enough for the light to spill through, soft and golden against the dark. You push it open.

Caleb stands at the mirror, steam curling around him, a towel slung low on his hips. His hair is damp, drops of water trailing down his spine, but his gaze isn’t on his reflection. It’s on the gun in his hands.

He cleans it with careful, methodical precision, each movement slow, deliberate, more ritual than necessity. The Caleb you know, the one who meets you with warmth even when he’s exhausted, is absent. In his place is something quieter, heavier. The usual light in his violet eyes has dulled, replaced by something distant, something unreadable.

And that’s when you feel it, the sinking, the knowing, the truth pressing in like a storm on the horizon.

Something happened. And whatever it is, it followed him home.

Your eyes meet in the mirror, just for a second. But there’s no relief, no warmth in his gaze. Just a flicker, a glance over your form, and then he looks away. Back down to the gun. His hands move with practiced efficiency, steady, detached, as if you’re not even standing there. Why could he possibly need to clean it right now?

"Caleb?" Your voice is quiet. There is a distance that wasn’t there before.

He doesn’t answer right away. The rhythmic slide of metal, the soft click of a piece locking into place, those are his only responses.

You step forward, bridging the gap just slightly. "Hey," you try again, softer now. "Are you tired?"

"Not really." Flat. Short. The words drop heavy with stones, meant to sink you down rather than reel you in.

Your frown deepens. That unshakable gravity that always pulls him toward you, it’s missing. And you don’t understand why.

"Did something happen?" The concern in your voice sharpens, threading through the air. "Something on the mission?"

He shakes his head, eyes still fixed on his hands. Still moving. Still working. “Not with the mission.” The words are clipped, cool. A dead end.

But you don’t stop. You step closer, your pulse picking up, something uneasy curling in your chest. "Oh? I—You seemed excited to come home before you left. And now… now you— What changed?"

Silence stretches. The air feels heavier now, spreading too wide in your lungs.

"You don’t have any clue?"

His voice is low and quiet, but laced with something sharp. Accusatory. Like you should already know.

Your stomach tightens. "Caleb…"

You step closer, close enough to touch him now, but he doesn’t move. His hands are still, finally, but his posture remains stiff, guarded.

"What’s wrong?" Your voice barely makes it past your lips, soft and uncertain.

His eyes cold, unreadable. His jaw clenches, and there’s a flicker of something darker, behind those purple eyes. You’ve seen that look before, but it’s always been reserved for moments of danger, not moments like this, and especially not at you.

He sighs, his fingers tightening on the counter. “Did someone help you while I was gone?” His voice is tight, like he’s barely holding himself together.

Your heart stops for a moment, your eyes widening in shock. “What?” you ask, confused. “What do you mean?”

Caleb’s gaze hardens, his expression shifting. “You know exactly what I mean. Did someone step in for me while I was gone?”

The question hits you like a sudden punch to the gut. How does he know? And it wasn’t something you even asked for. You were being followed, or at least felt like it. He- whoever he was, stepped in to walk with you to and you didn’t want to be alone. You were pretty sure he was a hunter, he looked familiar at least. That was it though? You even stopped a few blocks from the house so he wouldn’t know where you live. It was a weird situation yeah, but you didn’t ask for any of it, you did the best that you could on your own.

You stammer for words. “I… How did you—?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he cuts you off, his tone sharp, as if brushing it aside. “It’s taken care of.”

You freeze, something in his words sending a shiver down your spine. Taken care of? Was that his way of saying he’d done something to them? You back away a step, the weight of uncertainty making you dizzy. You can’t tell if you’re scared because of the vague threat in his tone, or if you’re terrified of the possibility that he has hurt someone.

You take another step back, your heart hammering in your chest. You can’t breathe, the anxiety swelling, and before you even realize what’s happening, you’ve backed out of the bathroom entirely. You feel the suffocating nature of cool air on your skin.

The dull clink of the gun as it hits the bathroom counter rings in your ears, but you can't bring yourself to look. You keep your gaze fixed on the tiles. Your pulse hammers in your throat, too loud to ignore, too frantic to quiet. What did he do to that person? What has he been doing, all this time?

“Wait,” Caleb’s voice, softer now, cuts through your panic. “Wait, look at me.”

You hesitate but eventually turn, too shaken to stay in place. Caleb is standing a few feet infront you, a calculating look on his face.

He walks toward you, his eyes softened now, his posture less rigid. The tension in his body is still there, but now it’s buried beneath something gentler, almost apologetic.

“Come here,” he urges, his voice low, as he gently guides you to the bench in front of the bed.

You hesitate for a moment before sitting down, your mind still caught in a whirlwind of confusion and fear. You don’t want to be scared of him, but the way he’s reacted, it doesn’t feel like the Caleb you know. You’re not sure who you’re facing now.

Caleb kneels in front of you, his hands resting on your knees as he searches your face, his eyes searching for something. His gaze softens even more, and you can see the weight of something in his expression. He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his movements slow and deliberate.

You flinch instinctively, pulling away from his touch. His eyes flicker with what almost looks like regret.

“You look so scared” he murmurs, his voice low.

"I... I just didn’t want to be alone," you admit quietly. "It was dark, and I was nervous... he walked me home.” You swallow hard, your pulse racing. “Caleb, what did you mean when you said it was ‘taken care of’? Did you—” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, the fear still clawing at your throat.

He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a slow breath before speaking. “I didn’t hurt anyone.” He shakes his head, his voice rougher now. “I’m pissed that someone thought they could take advantage of you.”

You feel a flicker of relief, though your heart still feels uneasy, heavy with the words you want to say. “But—”

He cuts you off, his hands cupping your face, the gesture so gentle it makes your breath catch. His thumbs trace your cheekbones, the touch meant to calm, but there’s something about it, something too careful, like he’s afraid of breaking you. Like he’s afraid of losing you.

"I understand. But it kills me that you had to be in that position in the first place, especially when I’m not around. I hate that I have to expose you to that." His eyes darken, the guilt thick in his gaze. "It feels like it’s my fault."

A strange warmth spreads through your chest, but it’s tangled with something else. A thread of unease you can’t untangle. This should feel like comfort. But instead, it feels like a weight pressing down, shifting the shape of your thoughts before you can even hold onto them.

"But you…" You hesitate, searching his face for something solid, something familiar. "You’re so different right now, Caleb."

His sigh is long, weary, as if your words ache in his chest. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours, and the world narrows. "My emotions go a little haywire when I think about you," he admits, his voice barely above a breath. "It’s hard to control them sometimes."

You sink to the floor with him, your knees pressing into the carpet as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. His body is warm against yours, his scent, faint traces of soap and something uniquely him, filling your senses. You straddle his torso, feeling the solid rise and fall of his chest beneath you.

“You didn’t really seem like you missed me,” there’s an ache beneath your words that makes his heart clench.

He exhales, brushing his fingers through your hair. ��I’m sorry, Pip. I wasn’t thinkin straight.”

Caleb tilts his head, his dark eyes searching yours. He looks so tired, his lashes heavy, his body worn, but still, he watches you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

“I think you’re exhausted,” you say softly, letting your forehead rest against his.

“Yeah,” he admits, his fingers grazing the small of your back, grounding you. “To say the least.”

His heart pounds beneath your fingertips, a steady, rhythmic drum against your palm as you trail your hand through his hair.

“Let me take care of you,” you whisper, leaning down to capture his lips with yours.

A shudder rolls through him, his hands tightening around your waist as he kisses you back, the hunger in his touch pulling a gasp from your lungs. His lips are warm, insistent, an intensity in every movement, reverent, desperate, all at once.

“Fuck, you’re so good to me,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and thick with desire, but there’s something else too, something deeper, a yearning that stays unspoken but presses heavy along you both.

The heat builds, an undercurrent of something hidden deep within. His voice, soft but full of something raw, and the warmth in your chest blooms. You press closer, every movement feeling like an answer to a question neither of you have dared to ask aloud. Your bodies align, fitting together with an ease that only comes from a connection that runs deeper than touch.

His hands, gentle but insistent, trace the curve of your back, as though memorizing the feel of you, each brush of his fingers igniting something inside you that feels both familiar and new. The weight of him beneath you, the way he hardens at your touch, sends a pulse of heat through you, and you can’t help but roll your hips toward him.

He groans, low, guttural, a sound that twists your stomach. You break the kiss, trailing your lips along the column of his neck, feeling the frantic beat of his pulse under your mouth. It’s a rhythm that matches your own, frantic and yearning. The air around you feels charged, shrinking until there’s nothing left but the electricity of your touch.

You tug at the towel that separates you, the tension thick as you reach for him, the feel of him so hard in your hand sending shivers down your spine. His breath hitches, eyes closing in the quiet surrender to the moment. You watch him, his jaw slack, eyes fluttering closed, aware of how every breath he takes seems to echo through you. You move slowly, savoring the intimacy, your own breath ragged, unsteady.

“God,” he groans, head tipping back as you lower yourself, your lips replacing your hand.

His fingers thread through your hair as you take him in, his grip tightening when you hollow your cheeks, drawing him deeper. The sounds he makes, the soft curses, the way he moans your name, make your skin flush with heat.

“darling” His voice is dripping slow and warm with honey “please”

You hum your approval and his hips jolt in response at the vibration.

Slowing your pace, you let your lips linger as they trail back up his stomach, the heat of his skin beneath your mouth causing your chest to tighten with something more than desire,  with a tenderness you were so ready for.

His fingers twitch against your back as you take your time, pressing soft kisses along his ribs, over the curve of his collarbone. His heartbeat is steady beneath your lips, grounding you, pulling you in deeper.

You pause at his chest, resting your cheek against him, just listening to his heart beat so quickly, feeling. His hands find your waist, his touch reverent, but he doesn’t rush you. He just holds you, letting you take what you need.

The moment you notice his heart beat start to slow, you straddle him once more, your hands bracketing his face as you meet his gaze. His dark eyes are heavy with something tender and raw. it makes you exhale a trembling breath.

“I missed you,” you whisper, brushing your thumb along his jaw.

Caleb swallows hard, his hands sliding up your thighs, slow and deliberate. “I can tell,” he teases

And when you kiss him this time, it’s not hurried, it’s devotional.

“Did you sleep in my shirts every night?” he asks, his voice thick, his fingers playing with the hem of your tee.

You nod, letting him pull it over your head. “And I wore your hoodie when it got cold one day.”

Caleb groans, his hands skimming up your bare sides. “I’m so jealous they got to touch you.”

A laugh bubbles past your lips. “Now you’re jealous of fabric?”

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them onto his nightstand, where they’ll probably never be found again. His eyes flicker up to yours, so possessive and aching.

“Incredibly jealous of fabric,” his hands gripping your hips as you reach down between you, guiding him to your entrance.

The moment you sink down onto him, a soft, trembling gasp escapes your lips, your body stretching to take him in, molding around him in a way that feels both overwhelming and deeply right, like returning home from an exhausting work trip.

Caleb exhales a shuddering groan, his head tipping back as his fingers tighten on your hips, anchoring you to him. “Fuck, you’re a dream,” you breathe, voice thick with emotion, with relief. His hands slide up your back, tracing the curve of your spine.

You brace your palms against his chest, feeling the steady, rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. Slowly, you start to move, grinding down against him as he meets you with deep, unhurried thrusts, each one deliberate, savoring, worshiping. The way he fills you, the way his body moves against yours, it steals the breath from your lungs, sends warmth unfurling through every nerve in your body.

“Say it again,” he rasps, his voice a desperate plea, his hands guiding your hips as he thrusts up with more pressure, his need for you tangible in every movement.

You lean down, pressing your forehead against his, letting him feel your breath, your presence. “I missed you, Caleb,” you whisper against his lips, your nails digging into his skin as you let yourself fall completely into him.

His eyes darken, but it’s not just desire, it’s raw and aching. There’s desperation in the way he looks at you, like he needs to feel you, to prove that you’re here, real and his.

He sits up suddenly, capturing your lips in a kiss that steals your breath, that makes your heart stutter. His hand cradles the back of your head, holding you close as if letting go would mean losing you all over again. Then, with a quiet, reverent sigh, he rolls you beneath him, his body covering yours, pressing into you with a warmth that feels all-consuming.

His movements are slow but purposeful now, every thrust measured, intentional,  he’s savoring every inch of you, making up for the time apart in the only way he can in this moment. You cling to him, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, desperate to keep him there, to make this moment stretch forever. The friction, the heat, the way he fits against you, it’s dizzying, overwhelming, and it pulls a trembling cry from your lips.

His forehead presses to yours, his breath fanning across your skin. “You know you’re mine,” his voice a rough whisper, but there’s no demand in it, only longing, only a plea wrapped in certainty.

You hum softly, a sound of agreement, of surrender, your body trembling beneath him.

His hand slides in your hair, but there’s nothing forceful in the touch, only need. “Tell me you understand,” he’s barely holding together.

You open your eyes, meeting his, letting him see everything you feel. “I understand.” you breathe, and the way he exhales, like you just gave him the one thing he needed most, makes your chest tighten with something impossibly tender.

His lips brush against your temple. “Thank you, love.”

The room is warm with the scent of sweat and lingering traces of his shower. You can feel a bead of moisture slide down your chin, his, yours, both of yours together, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

Each thrust sends you spiraling closer, your fingers clawing at his back as your body tightens around him. The pleasure builds, hot and all-consuming, and then, blinding, shattering, you break into millions of pieces and float through space.

Caleb follows, his grip on you tightening almost desperately, the pressure of his hands grounding you as his body shudders with the force of his release. A strangled groan slips from his lips, raw and heavy, the sound carrying a mix of pleasure and something deeper, something more vulnerable. The way his chest rises and falls, the way his breath catches, it’s not just the culmination of desire, but the release of a weight that’s been pressing on him for far longer than either of you had realized.

For a long moment, neither of you move. There’s only the sound of your breathing, your bodies pressed together, hearts hammering in sync. His weight settles against you, grounding you both in the reality of this moment, of each other.

He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he stays there, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your lips. His fingers, which had held you so firmly before, now trace slow, absentminded patterns along your ribs.

“I should have come to you first,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion. “Instead of being angry. I—” He exhales shakily, his thumb brushing against your skin. “You make me feel better. I should have just gone to you.”

You reach up, threading your fingers through his damp hair, brushing a strand from his forehead. His eyes flutter shut at your touch, like he’s savoring it, like it soothes something deep inside him. A warmth spreads through you, wrapping around your heart. You tilt his chin up slightly, guiding his gaze to yours, wanting him to see what he means to you.

“I’m so thankful to have you back.” and you truly mean it.

Caleb’s mind churns with thoughts he can’t voice. The truth sits heavy on his chest, yet he can't bring himself to share it. The fear of you hating him, of you seeing him for what he truly is, gnaws at him. You don't deserve the darkness he carries, especially when it's something he's supposed to shield you from. It’s his way of protecting you, even if you can’t see the lengths he goes to, how far he’s willing to stretch himself just to make sure you never feel the cold of it.

He will always do whatever it takes, to keep you safe and by his side.

[kazumist]

HANDLE WITH CARE .ᐟ

✩ — in which soshiro hoshina finds himself getting treated by his favorite nurse, you.

✩ — includes: soshiro hoshina x gn!reader. fluff. cw: mentions of blood and injuries, inaccurate use of medical terms ?? sorry i just used google uhm. wc: 990. established (secret !!!) relationship. reblogs and feedback are much appreciated !!

✩ — note: i became obsessed with these two that i might just write a part two of reader treating him after the tachikawa base raid arc actually.

soshiro hoshina does not play favorites.

when it comes to his subordinates, at least.

when it comes to the medical team assigned to the tachikawa base, however, that is when he plays favorites (though you would never see the vice captain of the third division actually admit that; he prefers calling it his “preferences”). whenever he finds himself in the base’s infirmary, he will always look for you. and when he’s lucky, which on most occasions he is, then he’ll have you treat his wounds. it’s just something that hoshina has grown accustomed to whenever he finds himself there. nothing more, nothing less (a lie).

you were a special case for the vice captain. there was just something about the way you handled his wounds compared to others. call it picky, but he just prefers the gentle treatment that you give his wounds. (how come hoshina constantly prefers to be treated by you when others would treat him the same? isn't that part of your job in the first place?)

(the answer is simple—it’s simply an act of soshiro hoshina asking for some quality time, even if he’s all bruised and bloody.)

“i’m almost convinced that you do this on purpose sometimes.”

soshiro simply grins at you. you weren’t entirely wrong—but it’s not like hoshina asks himself to get hurt when he goes out on missions in the first place. he could handle himself pretty well; he has the high position of being the vice captain of the third division, for christ’s sake. but perhaps it is inevitable that even the vice captain would come out of a mission unscathed.

“i like the concern from you.”

you give him a lighthearted eyeroll, to which he only grins even wider. "i'm sure you do," yet that grin slowly dissipated as he winced slightly at the feeling of the alcohol touching the wound near his eyebrow. “sorry, did that hurt too much?” you asked him, worried that it might’ve stung too much for his liking. this type of close proximity was normal for you and him. after all, it’s not like this is the first time your face was this close to his—though those are times when hoshina feels rather affectionate with you rather than in pain due to some wound he got.

“nothing i can’t handle, love.” he says, recovering quite fast from the alcohol sting. he was then met with a gentle tap on the lips—hoshina knows it was a warning from you. “watch your words, vice captain.” you say, applying a small gauze pad to his wound and securing it with paper tape.

“can’t really help it when you look so pretty up close, sweetheart.”

you ignored his remark but soshiro could see the smile that tugged on your lips at the petname. you then moved on to his next wound, which is on his left shoulder. his expression softens as he watches you inspect his wound, a small amount of guilt bubbling up inside of him. “this is gonna need a little stitch,” you sighed, grabbing another cotton ball, pouring the right amount of alcohol on it, and preparing to gently dab it on the wound. “and this might hurt a bit again.” you give him a heads up.

“like i said, it’s nothing that i can’t handle,” he reassured. whether it’s you he’s reassuring or himself to convince himself, neither of you really know. he hissed slightly when the cotton ball came into contact with his skin; it was barely even heard that he hissed in the first place. but you noticed it; you always do. you would notice everything about the man before you and he would do the same.

after cleaning his shoulder wound, you proceeded to prepare to stitch it up. there was no one else in the infirmary at the moment; it was now only you and hoshina there. he silently watched you as you quickly arranged the surgical suture. and even when you started the stitching, the deafening silence was still comfortable. 

soshiro gently raised his right arm since it was uninjured and used his hand to smoothly tuck your other strands of hair behind your ear. you looked at him, raising an eyebrow at his gesture. he smiles at you in return. “your hair might get in the way. we don’t want my stitches to have your hair stuck in them now, don't we?”

you quickly finish up the stitch and put gauze on top as well. “i’m sorry.” soshiro’s apology is as genuine as it always is whenever he gets treated in this same room. “i’m starting to feel quite better now, though. couldn’t do it without my favorite nurse.” he continues, as he grabs ahold of your unoccupied hand.

he hears you chuckle at his words as you interlock your fingers together. “avoid arduous training or activities for a good one week and you’ll be good as new.” you said, sighing as now you’re finally done with treating your boyfriend. “eh? no fair. i have to go help the rookies train the day after tomorrow.”

“i’m sure captain ashiro would let you off the hook in the meantime, soshiro.”

“oh, we’re on a first name basis now?” he asks, and this time it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. you bring your other hand up to his cheek, caressing it as your thumb grazes his cheek bone. he leans into your palm as if it were a reflex. “we’ve always been on a first name basis, dummy.” you say.

“maybe all of my pain could go away if you just gave me a little kiss, you know, as your vice captain.”

“now that’s just abuse of authority. do you ask other nurses for a kiss too?” you pouted.

“that’s why your my favorite nurse.” he replies, clearly emphasizing the word “favorite” as he steals a kiss from you.

yeah, vice captain soshiro hoshina definitely does not play favorites.

[tsuemi]

If Things Were Different

tw: teenage pregnancy (?) pure angst

you didn’t mean for things to end this way. you really didn’t.

but when the second pink line appeared on the test in the quiet, suffocating bathroom of your childhood home, the world stopped — and then came crashing down like shattered glass.

you sat there on the cold tiles, knees pulled to your chest, phone clutched in your hand like a lifeline. the silence felt cruel. even the distant hum of your parents arguing downstairs couldn’t fill the void inside you. all you could hear was the pounding of your heart… and tooru’s voice in your head.

“nothing will ever change, i swear. i’ll be thousands of miles away, but i’ll still be yours. every single day.”

he’d kissed you after he said that. it was the night before his flight to argentina — the last night you’d spent together. he smiled like he believed it, like he had the world in his hands. you didn’t have the heart to tell him you were already terrified things would change.

but this?

you hadn’t imagined this.

you didn’t call him right away. you couldn’t.

your parents were livid. your father yelled until his voice cracked. your mother sat with her face in her hands, whispering words like "reckless" and "disappointment" over and over until they echoed in your skull. you barely heard them, not really. it was like you were underwater. your thoughts were screaming, but no one else could hear them.

tooru was the only person you wanted to run to.

but he had just arrived in argentina. he was probably training. he was finally living his dream — climbing toward that goal he’d whispered so many times under his breath: “i’m going to be the strongest.”

how could you tell him now?

still, your fingers moved before your mind could stop them.

you dialed.

“y/n?” his voice picked up after the third ring. it was soft with surprise, tinted with the exhaustion of jet lag, but there was joy there too. “what’s wrong? it’s—what time is it there? are you okay?”

you pressed the back of your hand to your mouth to hold in the sound. tears slipped hot and heavy down your cheeks. you didn’t want to cry. not now. not with him on the other end of the line. “i’m okay,” you lied, voice thin and trembling. “i just… missed you.”

a pause. “baby…”

“i just needed to hear your voice.” you forced a smile he couldn’t see. “tell me how your day was.”

“i—” he hesitated, and you knew he could hear something in your voice. something wrong. he was always good at that. “my day was fine. coach said i’m improving fast. the team’s… well, they’re different. spanish is hard.”

you laughed quietly, the sound broken. “you’ll pick it up fast. you always do.”

“tooru…” your voice cracked. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” he said instantly, without hesitation. “what’s going on, baby?”

you wanted to tell him. god, you wanted to tell him everything. that you were scared. that your parents looked at you like you were already ruined. that your future had blurred into something terrifying and unknown.

that there was a life growing inside you — his child. a tiny heartbeat that had no idea the world was already this heavy.

but you couldn’t.

you wouldn’t be the thing that made him give up his dream.

so you said nothing else. you ended the call. and the next morning, with a shaking hand and eyes swollen from crying, you blocked his number.

days passed.

weeks.

until it was already two months since you last spoken to the love of your life.

you checked his social media sometimes — never commenting, never liking, just watching from a distance. he posted photos with his team. videos of games. he looked tired, but proud. alive in a way you hadn’t seen in a long time.

you cried yourself to sleep most nights. your body changed slowly, and every little shift reminded you he wasn’t there. that he didn’t know. that you made that choice.

you tried to justify it.

he would’ve dropped everything. he would’ve flown back, given it all up. he would’ve blamed himself. because that’s who he is — oikawa tooru, the boy who smiled even when he was breaking. the boy who carried the weight of every loss like it was carved into his spine.

you couldn’t do that to him.

you couldn’t ruin him.

so you pretended you were fine. you walked around with a ghost in your chest and pretended it didn’t ache. you didn’t answer his emails. you never opened his dms.

but you missed him.

you missed his stupid little hair routine. the way he’d dramatically say, “don’t fall in love with me too hard, okay?” even though you already had. the way he’d pull you into his chest when he was exhausted and whisper that you were his home.

you weren’t his home anymore.

and he wasn’t yours.

there were moments — sharp, unbearable ones — where you almost called. when the morning sickness got bad. when your doctor first played the sound of a heartbeat. when you held the first ultrasound in your hands and felt your soul break into a thousand splinters.

you wanted him there.

you wanted him to say, “it’s going to be okay, y/n.” but you already knew what he would do. and it wasn’t fair. not to him.

you chose to bear it alone.

you told yourself it was strength.

but it felt like drowning.

somewhere in argentina, tooru still whispers your name in his sleep.

he checks his phone more than he should. wonders what he did wrong. if you got tired of waiting. if maybe you found someone better. if maybe you stopped loving him before he even boarded the plane.

he tells himself to move on.

he tells himself it’s just the cost of greatness.

but he still dreams of you.

and he still wonders why the girl who said she loved him... never said goodbye.

🍥 part two . . .

[starlinggirll]

his hair. his smile. his arms. EVERYTHING about him is so yummy yummy!!

[justpeaxchy]

hi !so I love your hiccup x reader work, and I love the way you write . I was wondering if you could write one where the reader is a bit unsure /insecure when Hiccup confesses his feelings towards her . When you are not so busy, of course!

thank you ❤️

'I'll Be Yours In A Landslide.'

A/n: Hii! Thank you SOO much 🥹🫶🏼! I loved doing this one because, y'know ✨feelings✨ are so interesting to write. Also, I am also SO sorry this took a long time for me to publish! Been a little busy lately and experienced a bit of a writer's slump, but I'm coming back around!

Warnings: angst time!! Brief argument and descriptions of a (sort of?) panic attack [struggle to breathe, overwhelming emotions and such] (Also, denial, if that's one..)

Hiccup x !Fem! Reader

How could someone like him possibly return your feelings? No, it was impossible...right?

It took a while to accept it, to accept the faint flutter of your heart whenever his name was mentioned. Soon enough, that abstruse feeling wasn't so recondite anymore; you understood what it was.

You almost immediately scolded yourself for such a thing, for allowing yourself to fall in such a predicament. How could you? You were only a friend, one that didn't deserve the title of anything more than that.

And you were okay with it.

You told yourself to be okay with the fact that he would end up with someone else by his side, to watch as he fell in love with another, while still remaining as a close friend. That's how it was supposed to be. That's what you'd been planning inside of your wretched, fragile heart. For the longest time, it was a defensive wall you had built up against those feelings that were already locked inside that very same barrier, unbeknownst to you.

You tried, you really did.

You tried to fight against the continuous way in which your heart pined after him, even when he would simply talk on the recent ideas he had in mind. It was always in the simplest of things that seemed to catch your attention; he could be working on his map and you'd be enthralled to be there alongside him and merely observe him as he did so.

You were realizing it was starting to become a lot harder to contain these feelings to yourself.

It began to show when he eventually asked you if you were alright, having noticed your gloomy mood for the past couple of days, and you didn't know how to respond.

So, instead, you fled off to someplace else, avoiding the confrontation. Truthfully, it shouldn't have been labeled as such in your mind, but what were you to do when suddenly asked about your emotional well-being on a subject he could know nothing about? Run, obviously.

As always, though, he caught up to you. This time, however, it was much to your dismay.

"Hiccup, can't you just leave me alone for a couple of minutes? I already told you, I'm fine."

The Chief's son dismounted Toothless, watching you with tentative green eyes as he held out one of his hands, as if you were a dragon of some sorts. "No, I can't believe that when you've been acting like this for the past week. Will you please tell me--"

"No, I can't! You don't have to know everything I'm going through, Hiccup! End of story." You stomped off, desperately trying to make the sound of his footsteps mingled in alongside his prosthetic to fade away as he hurriedly walked after you.

Abruptly stopping in your tracks, you turned to face him, throwing out your arms in exasperation. "Will you quit following me!?"

"No, I don't think so." He firmly stated, standing in front of you as he tightly clenched his jaw. "You can't expect me to act as though everything's all fine and dandy when we both know you aren't." Softening his tone, he reached out for your hand, "Please, what's wrong..?"

You shook your head and stepped back, forcing yourself not to break in his presence. "I can't tell you. It'd be a waste of time."

Hiccup winced slightly at your claim, understanding you probably didn't want him to get closer. "You..can't tell me? Why is that?" He observed you from the short amount of distance put between you both, a remorseful tug snatching the reigns of his heart as you took another step away.

"See, you're doing it again.." Your voice came out as a grumble, dry with resentment like he did something wrong. It simultaneously stung the both of you, not that you would say it, of course.

"What? What am I doing..?" He muttered, his brows furrowing as he tried to make sense of everything that occurred so far.

You raised both of your hands towards him, gesturing at him in a manner that would've made him appear to be the one at fault. "You don't even know what you're doing..! Thor, Hiccup, you just—"

Your quiet groan interrupted your jumbled flow of words, rubbing your forehead in distress. This was not what you wanted. "Just go. You don't need to concern yourself with everything in my life. You're not my dad."

That comment, however, looked as though it sparked something in him that showed he didn't enjoy hearing the comparison you placed up on him. Hiccup nodded rigidly, glancing off elsewhere as he kept his tone low. "Right. I get that. But, apparently, a friend can't worry about you?"

Your stern gaze met his, hands balling into fists at your sides. "If it becomes too much, yeah." You waited, his reaction not what you were originally expecting. He partly sighed, keeping his demeanour together for both of your sakes.

"This isn't going to get any better if you keep these things to yourself. Let me help you." He subtly stepped forward, carefully observing your face for any signs on what else you may be feeling. He'd been with you enough to assign what emotion might be bothering you, something he took pride in since he was the only one who could do so.

Your eyes frantically scanned your surroundings, searching for an excuse in distraught. You needed to get away from him. Fast. "Hiccup, it's late. Just go home, you won't have to worry about me anymore." At least that in itself was true; the sun had already began to set, tinting the sky in mixing colors of orange and pink, obliquely telling you the day was near its end.

For once, when it came to the two of you, that didn't seem to matter to him.

"I can see that, but I'm not going to leave because of it." He became closer, cautiously examining as you appeared to give up for an instant.

"Why can't you leave..?" Your voice was fragile, earnestly trying to keep itself together as it shook underneath the weight of your emotions, crying out for relief from the overwhelming pressure of containing what you sincerely felt. It was torture. And he wasn't making it any better.

Hiccup gazed at you in complete solicitude, emerald eyes softened over in a gentleness that couldn't be found anywhere else – according to your standards. "You know why.." At last, he was in front of you again, carefully reaching for your hand as you weakly shook your head.

"No, I don't." You lifted your focus back onto his face, on the edge of tears as you faltered: "Why won't you leave? I need to understand now, Hiccup."

He appeared to hesitate, his expression vaguely showing the internal debate he had within himself about something – as if deciding to carry out an action he wasn't entirely brave enough to do. "..I've been unsure of whether or not I should've told you this sooner, but..." Pausing, he made it a point to keep the tenuous eye contact between you both, his words coated in a mellowness that quickly brought your guard down. "I can't let you do this to yourself again. I won't..sit back and watch it all happen... Not this time."

The future Chief delicately grasped your hand in his, enfolding them together in what could've only be described as an affectionate touch. "I can't stand by and see you suffer without anyone to be there for you." He exhaled, breath slightly trembling as he did so. "I can't let you go on like this when...when I love you too much to leave you alone in this condition."

Your whole body froze, everything around you becoming disoriented as breathing was now suddenly a struggle. "Wait...what?" You managed to mutter, your words barely escaping your lips as you felt as if the trees were closing in on you. Was your vision becoming hazy? Was it blurry from the inundation of tears that strained to pour out? Your heart pounded, feet making a quivering step back as you stared at him, shocked.

He couldn't be serious. He couldn't be.

No, it had to have been a joke to enlighten your mood, perhaps help you feel comforted, but that certainly wasn't happening to you. Hiccup was caring towards the ones around him, you already seized onto that knowledge when you both started to develop your friendship, but he shouldn't have chosen to be this kind in the moment when you were nearly about to break over the very thing he said.

"Now isn't the time, Hiccup... I get that you're trying to be nice and all, but—"

"It's so much more than me trying to be nice." His brows furrowed, worry evident on his face as he kept himself by your side, hand still holding your shuddering one. "I meant what I said."

Your breath came as a short, rigid wheeze, hopelessly attempting to deny his confession. "No, no, no. You can't be serious. Please, don't do this to me..!" Looking at the ground, you didn't register him standing exiguous inches from you, his other hand slowly reaching up. "If you want to help me, then stop joking! I-I can't—"

And then, Hiccup met your cheek with the palm of his hand, caressing your skin as though you were glass on the brink of shattering. He quietly spoke your name to bring you back to the present before continuing, "Hey, hey, hey...just breathe for me, okay? I'm not joking in any way...and I'm not leaving you, I'm here with you..and that's where I plan to stay."

He steadily inhaled, beckoning for you to copy his actions until it was followed by an exhale. You mirrored what he did, to the best of your abilities, the ringing in your ears not yet coming to a full halt. Thankfully, your lungs grabbed a hold of the air you needed, attention locked onto the tranquil hues of his eyes – the thing that constantly brought you solace.

After a few minutes of gathering yourself together, you came to terms with how short of a distance there was in-between you both, causing a dim pigmentation of scarlet to fill your complexion. "Hiccup, I—" You sighed, glancing away. "You can't be serious... You're so much better than I am, a-and you, you are such a great person, while I'm just...me."

Silence lingered in the air, leaving you to assume he probably agreed and had his senses revived to regret ever saying anything to you. That is, until he moved his hand underneath your chin, lifting it in a feather-like motion, allowing him to completely view your face. "That's exactly why. I love you because you're...you. The real you. And I wouldn't change one thing about you if it were up to me.."

Your eyes finally found relief as they poured out the gust of tears you'd been suppressing, sniffling as you tried to keep your posture. When Hiccup pulled you in for a warm embrace, you didn't resist him. You didn't resist his soothing words while he comfortingly rubbed your back. You didn't resist the need to cry,

And you didn't resist the love you buried deep inside of your heart for him.

"I love you too."

And then, the ringing in your ears diminished.

-------------

[slater-baby]

Johnny who sucks on your tits so much they start producing milk :(

And of course, when his precious girl needs her breasts pumped, he’s already standing in the doorway with a tent in his jeans and saliva on his lips :/