#& their son ken of course

[proxythe]

aki cussing ppl out over the phone is like a sweet sweet lullaby <3

[streetfarterturdstrike]

UMMM

[ravcnism]

HEY uhm.. i've been having this idea.. like imagine kenji sato x m!reader athlete as well? help, i just thought the dynamic would be cute. it could be a rival team on the baseball league or another sports. I just thought it would be cool!

STRIKEOUT. — KEN SATO x Male!Athlete READER

Summary: The Hiroshima Toyo Carp may have a new player in town, but his name is nowhere near unheard of. The prized star pitcher of The States takes the country by storm when he spontaneously shows up against the Yomiuri Giants. Ken Sato’s career is given a run for its money.

# # TAGS: Longform, Enemies to Lovers but like Still Enemies as Lovers, A LOT of Tension, Sports Anime-Level of Ridiculous, Star-Athlete!Male Reader, Author Doesn't Actually Know Anything About Baseball, Sort of a Slow Burn? No Beta We Die Like Onda

# # WARNINGS: Mild Violence, Mature Language, Eventual Smut if I’m Brave Enough, English is not My First Language, Around 2000 Words, Part One of ??

Night fell promptly upon the Sato residence. The sun had tucked itself into the sea and left a trail of gold in its warm, glistening wake. From afar, the ever-lively city of New Tokyo lit up street by street.

Beneath the water, in the basement, a newly-bathed Emi waddled towards her corner of the house; smelling of fresh sakura petals, and cuddling a half-crushed Nissan Skyline GT-R. Full from dinner, and satisfied by her shower, she felt the gentle arms of sleep coaxing her to a nap. With a squeaky yawn, and a stretch of her arm, she succumbed to its calls and laid on her spot on the ground. A very amused Hayao Sato came walking after her. “Silly girl. The bath and snack combo never fails to knock you out, huh?”

Kenji Sato, well-dressed for a night out, entered after. He was preoccupied by his sleeves, fingers fumbling to button them shut. “Remember, Dad. No videos after 10 pm. We can’t ruin her sleep schedule again.”

“Of course, Kenji.” His father waved him off with his cane. “You act as if I don’t know her routine like the back of my hand.”

“I’m just making sure.” He was fixing his hair, then, gelling it into place. His eyes narrowed at his own reflection, trying to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. “And of course you’ve got Mina to help.”

“Definitely, Ken.” As if on cue, the round hovering bot came floating in. “We have everything under control. You needn’t worry about us here.”

Professor Sato chuckled at his son, leaning on his good foot. “You seem to have a lot of nervous energy in you, Kenji.”

The batter sighed, tugging on his collar one last time. “I’m always nervous when I’m not playing.” Deciding he looked alright, Ken left his reflection alone. “No idea why. Might have something to do with my dislike towards things that I can’t control, but I’m not gonna get into that right now–” He shuffled about, searching frantically for his jacket. “Mina, where did I put my–?” An extended robot arm appeared from the floor and handed it to him. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Try to enjoy yourself anyway, Kenji.” Professor Sato had walked over to Emi, who was fast asleep, snoring slightly. He lifted a hand and rubbed her head. “I think it’s good that you go to these games even when you’re not scheduled. I can tell it lifts your team’s spirits.”

“Yeah, well, honestly I’m still trying to get used to it. The whole sportsmanship thing.” Ken sprayed his cologne on. He made a quick jog towards Emi and kissed her cheek. “Sleep tight, Sweetie.” He looked at his dad. With his motorcycle keys now in hand, he walked backwards to their glass elevator. “If anything happens, call me. You know the drill.”

“Yes, Ken,” replied Mina. “We do. Rest assured, there will not be a repeat of last time.”

“Right, right. Last time.” Kenji forced out a laugh. “Look, if she wakes up and I’m not home yet, try to get her to tire herself out. Load up a park. Throw some balls. But no flying outside, please? You know she gets carried away.”

“Understood.”

With a final glance, and a reluctant sigh, he stepped into the lift. “I’ll be back soon.” Leaving her 20-foot Kaiju-of-a-daughter never got any easier — no matter how many times he had gone and done it. He waved his family a quick goodbye, before disappearing from their line of sight.

His dad was right. It was good that he was going. The Giants had a game to win.

"Good evening sports fans! Ladies and gentlefolk, we welcome you to the highly anticipated matchup between the Hiroshima Toyo Carp and your Yomiuri Giants.”

The stadium was bright and buzzing with excitement. Ken was used to the energy, but he never grew tired of it. There was something almost magical about having this many people in a stadium together. Something electrifying about hearing their collective voices. Whether or not he was set to play, the crowd was what grounded him into focus. He adored their cheers, regardless of who it was directed to.

“We’ve got an intense start to the game so far, the home crowd doesn’t look too happy with Tateoka’s second strikeout.”

“How's it looking?” Ken appeared beside his teammate, Yuki, who was watching the game by the barriers.

“Bad. We're dying out there, Sato. Tateoka's our second batter. We're down one strikeout.”

Ken's brows knitted together, intrigued. He had gotten here a little late and missed a good chunk of the first inning. He had missed most of the commentary, too, so he was pretty much left in the dark. All he knew was that the home crowd didn't look too cheerful. And neither did Coach Shimura. ( Though technically, he couldn't remember a time when Shimura looked anything less than disappointed. ) Ken settled into his spot, nursing a canned soda.

The pitcher’s back was against him, his jersey name too far for him to read. He couldn't see who it was. Ken took notice of their form. Their figure. “Wait, who's throwing again?”

His teammate dropped a name so familiar it sent Ken choking on his drink.

“Fucking, who?” He dropped the name of a famous star-athlete. A name he saw on billboards, news reports, articles. A name so expensive it put his vintage cars to shame. A name with a strikeout rate so disgustingly high it had the best teams falling to their knees. A staggering 1.75 ERA. Almost zero walks. Your name, sent a shiver down Ken Sato’s spine. You, the Mets’ notorious Bullet, now a surprise player of the Toyo Carp.

He watched as you turned around. Your face came into view. You were frighteningly calm. The Giants’ batter was one strike away from an out. Kenji swallowed thickly. “When the hell did he get here?”

“Yeah. Apparently they traded him to Carp a week ago. Didn't get much buzz for some reason.” Yuki scoffed. “Think they covered it up? Element of surprise? It was a pretty big move.”

The fact that Kenji had never been put up against you before was sheer dumb luck. That's what he thought, anyway. Despite the fact that the both of you had been celebrities in The States, the seasons just never aligned well enough to get the both of you to play at the same park. But he hadn't dreamed of it. Who in their right mind would? Like a bullet from a gun, your pitches were unstoppable. You had a mutant-like control over the ball. There were studies on the physics of your technique. Even the best batters would miss your throws. And at that moment, as he watched his teammate strike himself out, Kenji wondered if he'd miss, too.

He wouldn't have to keep wondering. Understanding the weight of your presence, the Yomiuri Giants opted to bring in the calvary.

“Sato.” Ken flinched at Shimura’s voice. He looked over his shoulder, facing him. “Locker room. Get dressed — I'm calling you up.”

He laughed, nervously. “You sure that's legal, coach?” He wasn't scheduled to play today, and spontaneously entering a non-player into the field was only allowed upon certain circumstances. Like an injury, for example.

“Of course it is.” Shimura grumbled. “Tokuda just broke his arm.”

The mentioned Tokuda stood behind him, sipping on some soda, with his obviously not-broken arm. “You heard the man, Ken. I just broke my arm.”

Ken grimaced, heading for the door. “The press is going to love this…” Japan's finest batter, versus The States’ fastest pitcher. Oh, this would make the headlines for sure.

Kenji did as he was told. He walked into the locker room, then walked out in full-attire. The speakers crackled to life. There was a steady rise in the crowd’s demeanor. People were slowly piecing the situation together. The announcers were losing their minds. “And It looks like — oh my goodness, folks. I don't believe this. Ken Sato has been called up into the field!”

The stadium went alight. Ken walked into the park and wondered if the lights were a little brighter than usual. He was doing his stretches, rolling his shoulders. His bat was handed to him and he flipped it in his hand. He allowed the cheers to boost his energy, and perhaps a bit of his ego.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we might be witnessing baseball history tonight! Two of the opposing team’s star players have come face to face for the first time ever. And it's happening right here, right now.”

You met his eyes. Ken’s breath hitched. You were so… intense. He couldn't properly describe it. You watched him move into position like a lion stalking its prey.

“Will Sato stop the Toyo Carp’s brand new Bullet? Or will he walk out of this game bleeding?”

The trick was to look them in the eye. A pitcher was no different from a batter when it came to a game. They shared the same weight of responsibility. The only time a stadium is silent is when they're standing face to face. Like a duel. One of Ken’s techniques was staring them down and reminding them that he was a force to be reckoned with. He was Ken Sato, for crying out loud.

Unfortunately for him, you were unshaken. Which he would’ve been offended by, if he were younger and more immature. No matter, he had other things to look for. Like the cues. Each pitcher had their own cue; a sort of tell that told Ken what kind of throw they’d be going for. He didn’t hit those pitches out of pure luck. Contrary to popular belief, he was actually thinking these games through. There were a plethora of things to look at. A pitcher’s stance, their position, which hand they were using. In an easier game, Ken would be able to read these pitchers like an open book.

But if you were a book, then you would've been written in a different language. He could find no such cues. He didn’t really have anything to calculate. You were as unpredictable as you were quick. None of his usual techniques seemed to be working on you.

The last resort: keep your eye on the damn ball, and freakin’ swing.

You held your hand outward, fingers pointed at him. There was a kind of hunger in your eyes, an expression that made Ken’s heart skip a beat. Your focused glare made him feel as if a red dot had appeared on his forehead. Like you had marked him for prey. It felt… personal. Like it wasn’t a part of the game, and you were only pointing at him. A threat. A dare.

You pulled your pitching arm back. He swore he heard a gun cock. The stadium went quiet. The crowd held its breath. So did Ken. He tightened his grip on his bat. He waited, eagerly, for you to make your move. He was counting the milliseconds, watching you, anticipating your throw, waiting for you to shoot.

And you did.

Ken blinked, and the ball was gone from your hands. He released the breath he was holding through a disbelieved scoff. He turned, and the catcher had stumbled slightly, holding your ball. The crowd grew into disarray, a rising cacophony of cheers and boos. They just couldn’t believe it. Ken Sato not only missed your pitch, but wasn’t able to move at all. He couldn’t even swing. You were too fast. Too abrupt.The ball was a white blur, there a moment, then gone the next. It wasn’t an issue of the curve, nor the direction. It was just too fucking fast.

His teammates couldn’t believe their eyes. And neither did his coach. Ken craned his head to look at you. You stared back at him, stone-faced.

He took a breath to regain his composure, resuming his earlier stance. He would never admit it, but he was rattled. He was trying to understand how that throw was humanly possible. How he had somehow forgotten to move. He could do nothing more but stand haunted as he heard the resounding “strike one!” from the umpire. This wasn’t the first time he’d missed, but it was the first time he froze. It was a spectacle to all, and a moment of horror for his fans. Did the Unstoppable Ken Sato finally meet his match? Even if he did, he was determined not to lose a second time.

“Okay,” he whispered. He took a deep, focused breath, slightly shifting his stance. He kept his feet firm on the ground, bat at the ready. “Okay, Hotshot. Bring it on.”

You kept your eyes on him and him alone. You stared at him as if you were the only two people in the stadium. The crowd went silent once again. The Giants fans were desperate to give Sato the focus he so-terribly needed, but the Carp fans were just curious to see how the second pitch would go. The air was thick and heavy with tension.

Like before, you threw your hand out, fingers pointed at Ken. You drew your pitching arm back, like an archer, and there was that sound in his mind again. The cock of a gun. Ken waited. He counted you down. He was a hunter dressed in camo, waiting for a deer to move.

Then, for the first time since he’d seen you, your expression changed. You grinned at him.

Then you winked.

Shit.

You threw the ball. Ken swung.

But he missed.

The crowd erupted into chaos. There was an indistinguishable pandemonium of disdain and celebration. People screamed and jumped and waved their banners as high as they possibly could. A number of them had already entered a state of acceptance — the Giants would lose to a perfect game. No batter would ever get through the wall that was you. But a lot of them kept their faith in the ever-notorious Sato. He could hit the last shot. He could pull this off. He might have been struggling to match your speed, but he would figure it out. They believed in him like he was a god.

And at that moment, as Kenji heard the echoing “strike two!” he certainly felt the anger of one.

Did you just fucking wink? Did you seriously have the audacity to wink at him? Kenji took it personally. Who did you think you were? Though his lips spoke nothing of the foul words he wished so eagerly to shout, it was clear on his face that he wanted you gone. It was one thing to embarrass him with a fastball, but another to rub it in. He wouldn’t let that slide. He wouldn’t allow you to strike him out.

Yoshimura was gripping the barrier so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.“Eyes up, Sato!”

Kenji breathed. Through his nose, this time. He drew a long breath into his entire body and blew it out through his lips. He wouldn’t miss. He couldn’t miss. While he might have already taught himself the humility that came with losing, he hadn’t taught himself jackshit about losing to you.

“If looks could kill,” whispered Ami Wakita, the reporter who watched the game from the press booth. Typing into her laptop, she wrote: “There seems to be obvious tension on the field. Nothing new for Ken Sato, yet, significantly different. Japan’s star player has finally met his match. This game has been a long time coming.”

This was his last chance, and he wasn’t going to waste it. Kenji raised his bat, and narrowed his eyes. You weren’t blind to his added efforts, and smirked at him again. Oh, how it made his blood boil.

Point.

Pull.

Throw.

Swing.

This time, the ball made contact.

The crowd blew up once more, exhausting their lungs as they watched the ball fly across the field. Kenji had hit it. Kenji had managed to catch your bullet-of-a-pitch. He dropped his bat to the ground and ran for his life. Base to base, corner to corner. Kenji leapt across the field and jumped for home.

“Safe!”

The crowd went wild. He had heard stadiums cheer for him before, but he didn't think he had ever heard anything this loud. With a relieved laugh, Kenji got up from the ground, and finally caught his breath. His teammates ran to greet him, though they had only passed the first inning. With a round as intense as that one, they felt it was only right to celebrate a little early.

And then he looked at you. Your eyes met. You were smiling at him again. He didn't like the lack of concern on your face. He didn't like that you didn't seem challenged. And he especially didn't like the fact that he was out there playing for his life, while you seemed to have played for a weekend game at the park.

Kenji was glaring at you, as if he was burning holes into your head. You lifted a hand and threw him a casual salute, flicking two fingers towards his direction. Dammit, he thought. That wink really threw him off. Which it shouldn't have.

Unfortunately for him, the game was nowhere near the last time you'd interact.

And there'd be the after-party to boot.

[taking-thyme]

The Structure of a Pagan Prayer

When appealing to a deity or making an offering, it’s wise to know how this was traditionally done in the past so you can be as respectful as possible and build a true reciprocity with the gods. This type of prayer structure is found in all manner of pagan religions from Norse paganism, Hellenic (Greek) polytheism, Kemetic (Egyptian) prayer and so on. I got the inspiration and much of the information here from @Ocean Keltoi on Youtube who is a fantastic scholar and Norse heathen who actively stands against prejudice and is all around a wonderful resource. 

Now, there are three main elements of a pagan prayer, which should be done in this order:

1. The Invocation. This is where you call upon the specific god you’re hoping to connect with. Think of it as writing the name and address on your letter to the Gods - it lets the deity know that this prayer is directed at them, which is important in a polytheistic religion with many gods. To start your invocation, address the deity directly by name, or use an epithet or kenning that they're known by. It's especially wise to choose an epithet that relates to what you're praying for, like using one of Apollo's healer epithets while addressing him in a prayer about a loved one's sickness,  for instance. It’s also a good idea to praise them highly and with a certain air of reverence. These are ancient deities after all. 

2. The Argument. Here you give your reasons for why a deity should fulfill your request and favor you. If you’ve brought offerings, cite them here. You can also include reasons for why you’re reaching out, such as love in a prayer for Aphrodite or matters of justice with the god Tyr. This is where you make your case to them. And if you’re reaching out to a deity you don’t have a working relationship with, which let’s be honest will be the case many more times than we’d like, then you can tell them this here also. A good example might be “Oh Tyr, one-handed war god and son of Odin, though we have not met before I have heard your name and been called to it…”

3. The Request. Finally you ask the gods to look kindly on your request and to grant you their blessing. Again, be as respectful and reverent as possible towards them. 

Prayer Example: “Grey-eyed Athena, daughter of thundering Zeus, if ever I have poured out sweet wine for you, look kindly on me and grant me your wisdom.”

How to stand when making the prayer

This depends on which God you’re reaching out to and, of course, your own personal comfort. The most common ways of praying are to stand and perform some gesture of reverence, kneel while praying and even prostrate, kneeling fully on the ground with your head down as you appeal to the gods. Some might also choose to wear veils when performing prayers or rituals for deities, though this is naturally up to the individual. 

In Hellenic tradition, if you’re praying to an Ouranic god (deities of the heavens) you would traditionally wear your hair up and stand with your arms raised to the heavens while reciting your prayer. Meanwhile, if you are praying to a Chthonic god (deities of the underworld), you would kneel and face downwards towards the Earth with your hair flowing freely. 

Some Norse sources tell of ancient pagans prostrating before the gods, and yet this is still not entirely necessary. Pray however you see fit and what is most comfortable for you at the moment. 

^ This is what prostrating looks like

Sources:

Ocean Keltoi's video on pagan prayers

Hearth and Fire Work's blog post on Hellenic prayer structure

[whimsyfinny]

He’s a Winchester

Chapter 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: It's been a long time since (Y/n) and Dean's paths have crossed. Last time they saw each other it was ‘98 and they were young and living in the moment. Nine years down the Line, their paths cross again, but (Y/n)s longest kept secret is about to become Deans reality.

Slow burn (ish), mom!reader, eventual smut

Warnings: language, mention of drugs

Chapter Word Count: 2330

—-MDNI—-

A/N: wooooop new series! I'm trying something new with this one! As a mom myself I loooove reading mom!reader fics, so I wanted to write my own. It's a slightly shorter first chapter, but the following ones should be longer. Any feedback is greatly appreciated, reading your comments makes my day ❤️ and of course, this is proofread only by myself so pls pls let me know of any errors! I really hope you enjoy it. I also didn’t write this at 2am for once so brownie points to me hahaha

Photos from Pinterest

——————————————————————

Chapter 1

“Come on, (Y/n)! You have to tell me all about it! What was he like? Did you kiss? Hold hands? Where did he take you?”

I couldn’t help but smile at the rapidfire questions spewing from Kats mouth. Kat, the stunner sat opposite me with perfect dark skin and the inability to have a bad hair day, was my closest friend. We lived on the same street, drank at the same bar and both hated this small, slightly judgemental town equally. We bonded over the similarities in our lives - like both of us having fallen pregnant at a young age and being dealt the hand of having to raise our kids as single parents. Life was fucking hard sometimes (well, nearly all the time), but my son, Levi, and Kat, made this life worth living.

“Jesus Christ, ok! The date was ok.”

“Uh oh. ‘Ok’? That means it was awful, right?” she raised an eyebrow.

I took a gulp of my coffee.

“The date was ok. But he was…. Seriously not my type. He was too…perfect?” I winced as the words left my mouth, fully aware of how utterly ridiculous that sounded.

“Girl, ‘too perfect’? What the fuck kind of excuse is that?” Kat snorted slightly into her latte.

“I know, I know. But he reminded me of a Ken doll, ya’know? With his white jeans and his Armani sweater over his shoulders - that’s not really… me. The dude gets more manicures than I do. Plus he drives a Fiat Panda. Levi wouldn’t be caught dead getting in and out of one of those.”

“You can’t use your sons taste in cars to dictate the men in your life. That’s a low blow and you know it.”

“Ok then, you go out with Robert and tell me about all the kale facts that you never wanted to learn.” I leant back on the couch, clutching my coffee with both hands to bring some warmth to my fingertips. Kat did the same opposite me, leaning back in the plush armchair as we both took a second to glance out of the large café windows. This was our happy place, right here. It was the place we would come to when we first met and the boys were still in diapers. It was our happy place for the last nine years, and we would come here for every situation: be it a breakup, a catch-up, to discuss terrible sexual encounters or dire situations that need insane back-up plans. But we mostly came here to people-watch. Being the young, single moms that we were, we were constantly under the scrutiny of the small town, having every decision judged by the perfect Jeep-driving soccer moms and the old ladies from church. When we came here, to sit by this window in these comfy-as-fuck couches, it was our turn to do a little judging.

“Vicki Priestley isn't fooling anyone with those sunglasses,” I said, taking another sip of coffee as I watched the thin peroxide blonde across the street repeatedly wipe her nose with the back of her hand.

“Right? We get shunned for…well… fuck all, yet that Paris wannabe can snort coke on a Tuesday school run and everyone turns a blind eye? What a joke.”

“Amen to that,” we watched her for a few more seconds as she climbed behind the wheel of some monstrous four by four and sped off down the road.

“Did you hear that Mrs. Harris caught Mr. Harris with a young mistress? Apparently she works at the bank.”

“Oh my GOD yes I heard!” Kat exclaimed, leaning forward, “and as revenge she put Nair in his shampoo - he's completely hairless, even his eyebrows are gone.”

We both snickered as we raised our mugs.

“To Mrs. H for taking no shit.”

Conversation flowed as topics ranged from the new dessert parlour that opened last week down the road to the extortionate price of kids' Motocross gear.

“I mean the bikes are so tiny, why do they have to cost that much?”

“You're preaching to the choir babes, Toby just outgrew his boots for the third time this year,” Kat grimaced at the thought of how much money she'd spent already.

“Ouch, they're like what? Eighty bucks a pair?”

“Yup.”

“Yeah well, I had to get Levi a new helmet after that little dickhead from the tournament last month crashed into the side of him. That boy was more upset about the stickers he lost than the bruises he got,” I shook my head with a smile on my lips. Kat did the same.

“That's a tough kid you've got there.”

I sighed.

“Yeah I know. Despite never having met him, he's so much like his dad. It's a little concerning actually,” I laughed nervously, instantly regretting bringing up Levi’s father in front of Kat. I glanced up at her, taking a sip of my coffee in an attempt to hide behind the mug. The wiggling of her eyebrows being an indicator of her impending wrath.

“That man is the reason why you’re never satisfied with your dates. He set that bar waaaay too high.”

I scoffed. “He did not. We were young and he just swept me off my feet a bit, that’s all; with that ‘give ‘em Hell’ attitude and handsome face. Plus he had a great car.”

“Last time you said his face was ‘gorgeous’,” Kat cupped her face and fluttered her eyelashes, puckering her lips. I threw a sugar packet at her which she batted right back at me.

There was a moment of quiet as we both looked out the window again, my mind unable to stop itself from racing through old memories.

“Do you think he’ll ever come calling?” Kat asked, some sincerity to her tone. I sighed and slumped back further on the couch.

“I highly doubt it. He doesn’t even know that Levi exists. I tried calling him a few years back but some guy John W. had that number instead. I gave up after that. Plus, he had this kinda dangerous job, and normally if he showed up it was because something was going to go down,” I paused, looking into the dark liquid in my cup, “It’s probably a good thing that he hasn’t just shown up.”

“You say that, but you still have that photo you took together on your vanity.”

I shot her a look, pursing my lips and pinching my brows as she laughed, knowing she'd stumped me there. I quickly downed my coffee and checked my watch before standing and grabbing my bag.

“Come on, let's stop interrogating me and go pick up the boys before all Hell breaks loose at the track.”

“Mom it wasn't my fault, I swear.”

I slammed the car door closed and turned to the boy who stood close enough to be my shadow.

I turned around to face him with a stern expression, “so you did do it? After I called that boys mom a liar? LEVI.”

Levi, my son, looked close to tears, his bottom lip trembling.

“Mom, I'm so sorry! I'll never do it again!”

I narrowed my eyes at him before sighing, already exasperated, throwing the car keys into my bag.

“Did you at least stick to the golden rule?”

His answer was a vigorous nod, the tremble in his lip disappearing.

“‘Never throw the first punch; throw the second and finish the fight,’” he recited the words like a prayer.

“And…?”

“‘Always claim self defence.’”

I smiled and ruffled his soft brown hair.

“Good boy. What started the fight anyway?” I asked, guiding him to walk through the parking lot towards that new dessert parlour.

“He said I was weird for not having a dad.”

I looked down at him, eyes softening and I lifted a hand to rub his shoulder. It wasn't the first time he'd had this argument, and it likely won't be the last. Kids can be assholes. “And then he hit me when I said ‘at least my mom's boobs are real.’”

“Levi!” I stopped in my tracks and looked at him, mortified. I didn't even know where to start with that one. “Where-”

“Jamie from math class told me what ‘implants’ were… and he said that Brad's mom had them.”

He looked up at me innocently, and I knew then that he didn't fully grasp what he'd said to Brad - the kid he'd just punched between the eyes. I sighed for the umpteenth time and started walking again.

“Whatever, just… don't say that to anyone again, ok? You're gonna make me look like a terrible parent.”

“Ok mo- whoa! Look at that car!” It was Levi's turn to stop dead in his tracks as he stood in awe of the sleek black car parked by the sidewalk.

A black Chevy Impala.

“Oh wow,” my words came out slightly breathless, my mind suddenly racing to him and the conversation I'd had with Kat earlier that afternoon.

“So cool!” Levi gushed, walking up close to it but not close enough to touch.

“Yes, very cool. Now let's go inside before they run out of ice cream,” I ushered him to the door, reflexively looking over my shoulder, not knowing if I even wanted to see who could possibly be in the area.

The bell jingled as we walked in and Levi ran up to the counter, pressing his forehead to the glass. My eyes scanned the menu and I was pleasantly surprised to see they served coffee.

“What do you fancy kiddo?” I ruffled his hair again and waited for him to decide, and it wasn't long before he'd made up his mind. After ordering, we headed towards a small table-for-two at the edge of the room, and as Levi slumped down in his chair something familiar caught my attention.

A voice.

My heart quickly became erratic in my chest and my palms grew sweaty. I looked in the direction the voice had come from and was met with a slap in the face from memory lane.

There he was; the same wicked grin and mischievous eyes that had burned themselves into my memory. He dressed the same as he did nine years ago - right down to the necklace and leather jacket. He was engrossed in a conversation with another man, who looked slightly younger than himself, all whilst digging into a stack of waffles.

“Mom?”

The sound of Levi's voice snapped me out of the stunned fog I was caught up in and I quickly sat down, trying my best to focus on my son and not the man who was sitting only a few feet behind him. Levi looked like he was about to ask another question when a giant chocolate sundae and a coffee appeared at the table. I heard the waitress challenge Levi to finish the whole thing, but it was like I was listening to the world through water. My mind wouldn't stop racing. He's here. Do I talk to him? Will he remember me? Do I tell him about Levi? I hurriedly pulled my phone from my bag and sent her a hasty message before turning back to the boy in front of me, convincing a smile to appear on my lips.

“If you have room in that black-hole stomach of yours then you definitely could've finished your veggies earlier at dinner.”

He smirked slightly, like he always did when he knew he was getting away with murder, and it almost took my breath away. I saw the same smirk grace the lips of the man in the booth behind him. The mans gaze shifted to the side and when his eyes met mine - the same vibrant twists of green and gold that I have tattooed on my memory - I sucked in a sharp breath, my heart leaping in my chest as I tore my eyes away. I clutched my coffee cup, staring intently at the dark swirling liquid, praying to anyone or anything that I'd find the answers to my troubles in the bottom of this mug. The prickling on my skin was unshakable, like his eyes were on me and I was trapped under his intense observation, unable to breath. Minutes felt like hours, and eventually he and his companion stood before heading to the door. The moment they were gone with the bell signalling their departure, the air gushed from my lungs as I dropped my head into my hands, earning myself a confused look from my son. I offered him a reassuring smile which he accepted before returning to shovelling ice-cream into his face.

Just when I thought I was safe, I looked up and locked eyes with him. Our eyes locked through the window just as he opened the car door, leaning on it. It was like time froze, and for a few moments, despite my earlier urgency to not make eye contact, I was now unable to look away. My breath caught in my throat as a smirk pulled at his lips before he ducked down into the driver's seat, slamming the car door closed. I found myself chewing on my bottom lip as he tore out of the parking lol, that familiar rumble of the engine practically rattling the windows and, despite the noise, it was a comforting sound.

Once they were out of sight and the impala could no longer be heard, I sighed, pushing my hair off my face and running my hands through my hair. As Levi polished off the last of his ice-cream, my phone buzzed on the table. Opening it and reading the message, a small wave of relief washed over me as Kat confirmed that Toby would be at his dad's for once so she could come over to drink wine and discuss very important topics. She hasn't got a clue what I need to vent about yet, but I feel like tonight is going to be a very long night.

——————————————————————

Next Chapter: Chapter 2

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[myfamilycrestisthedemonofdeath]

Eh, fuck it, here's my first actual shit written

~~

Gimme a reader who is normally taciturn snapping and becoming spitfire.

Imagine you and 141 out for drinks at a dive bar, drinking enough liquor to drown your memories of harrowing situations away. Price and Ghost just chilling in the corner of the bar, drinking while keeping their eyes on the surroundings; Price keeping an eye on Johnny and Kyle who are becoming rowdy by the billiards table, and Simon is just quietly nursing a drink while watching everything else. You're a few stools away, wanting to drink alone, until some younger slob sits next to you, ignoring the irritated glance you threw his way and the prickly atmosphere you exude. Tries the usual schtick of getting you to go with him, promising good times and such. The 141 men immediately notice and are casually on standby to help, until you finally snap at the fucker who is trying to give you his number and address.

"If you're gonna give me an address, I'd rather take your dad's so that way I can go fuck him and give him a son who he will actually love, enough to teach little boys like you what the fuck manners are. And if you have a mom, I'll fuck her too", you say bluntly but loudly.

If you were paying attention on anything else but the guy, you'd hear Johnny and Kyle immediately cackling in surprised delight. Price, on the other hand, actually snorts his drink and sputter, spitting some of it out. Simon's face is of course hidden, hiding his grin but his eyes crease to show it, eyebrows raised to high heavens.

"If you're looking to just get your dick wet, I suggest you go cry on it, or fuck off and bother someone else", you continue, not allowing the guy to talk. "I'm not in the mood to babysit you asshole, so get off my face before I make you eat this bar", you growl out.

The poor fool is turning red, mouth opening and closing to get a word in, but before he could, you hear Kyle speak up, now beside you with a shit-eating grin, putting his hand by your shoulder and facing the guy.

"Listen, mate, she's not interested. You better scramble off before she grabs your balls and rips it off", he says, joy evident in his voice.

"Aye, Ah've see 'er do it, honest ta' God", Johnny follows up, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, still somewhat cackling.

The appearance of the two big, burly men to your side seems to finally scare the guy off, profusely apologizing to them before running off. You get irritated, as it seems the boy really didn't respect you and only backed off because of the presence of other men.

"The both of you, fuck off too. I can handle myself", you tell them testily.

Kyle lets go of your shoulder, backing away while shaking his head with his hands up. "You handled it perfectly, but was just a bit worried he'd keep harrassing you regardless".

"Tha' was hot, bonnie. Never thought ya got the fire in ya'", Johnny quips. "Ah know ya ken handle yourself, so we'll leave ya to it", he adds, dragging Kyle with him back to the billiards table, both laughing.

You threw the both of them a withering look, and notice Simon helping John by giving him more napkins, John wiping his beard while coughing slightly. Both of them look at you and nod, traces of laughter and surprise on their face as you glower back at them before going back to your drink.

All four of them are very surprised at your outburst, knowing how you normally ignore passes like that to you. You don't know it yet, but you've now incited Johnny and Kyle into riling you up. John and Simon chuckle to themselves, enjoying your display of temper. All four are wondering how it is like to be with you, anticipating when they will get to see more of you out of your shell. If this is just one shard that came out, they can't wait to see more.

~~~

I feel kinda embarrassed because I've actually never written a fic or drabble before

[maviscat123]

Anatomy II

By: JohnBoy

Someone was pounding on the door...

Big Jim Reese woke up with a snort; he'd been having a late afternoon nap on the cot in his office. His "office" was actually a small trailer, parked amongst some trees near the back of the construction site.

Jim sat up groggily -- he coughed and slowly ran a large, beefy hand over the stubble on his shaved head. The pounding came again, more urgent this time.

"Hey, Mr. Reese! You in there?" It sounded like a young guy.

"Yeah, yeah," he spoke in his deep baritone, "hold on a sec." The huge black man got up and opened the door.

It was Ken, the son of the crane-operator. He was tall and rather well-built, about 20 or so, sandy blond and blue-eyed, and with a tuft of bristly beard on the end of his chin.

Jim had noticed (on the four or five other occasions that he'd met him) that he always acted a bit shy and nervous around him. Probably, he guessed, because he was intimidated by his size: Jim was a half-foot taller than him, and probably out- weighed the kid by at least 130 pounds (a good deal of it was solid muscle, too).

"Hey Kenny, what're you doin' here?"

"Is-- is my Dad here?"

"Nope, he's gone home already." Jim yawned; he thought the young man looked even more nervous than usual. "Uh, everything okay?"

Ken glanced over his shoulder. "The cops are after me, man."

"What?" Jim looked towards the street; he could see a police cruiser pulling up in front of the site. He'd heard that this boy had been in trouble with the law in the past: B&E, some minor theft...

"I need a place to hide. Please, you gotta let me in!"

Jim sighed. He wanted nothing to do with this kid's problems. But an idea was starting to form in his head... and before he even realized it, he said, "Okay, get in." Ken was peeking out through the blinds, watching the cop. Jim had not asked him what kind of trouble he was in this time, and the kid hadn't told him...

"What's he doing?" Jim asked.

"He's just talking to one of the workers. Wait-- shit, the guy's pointing this way!"

Kenny looked around the trailer. "Fuck, if I get caught this time, I'm going to jail for sure. You can't let him find me!"

"If he wants to look in here, I don't think I can really stop him."

"But... there's no place to hide in here! What am I gonna do?"

"Well," he said slowly, trying to sound nonchalant, "I got a suggestion."

"What??"

"How much you weigh, Kenny?"

"Wha--? Uh, about 190, I guess. Why?"

Jim tugged thoughtfully at his wiry, dark goatee. This young man was a fair bit bigger than the doctor had been. He wondered, could he do it?

"You can hide... in here." Jim pointed to his stomach.

"Huh?"

"I could swallow you."

Ken just stared at him.

Jim went on, "Just for awhile. I could swallow you whole and hide you inside my belly, just 'til the cop leaves. Don't worry, you'll be safe. If he comes up here lookin' for you, well... there's no way he'd find ya. Then when he's gone, I'll let you out."

Ken continued to stare at him.

"Well? What do you think?"

"Oh come on... this is a joke, right?"

"No, I mean it. I'm serious."

"You're crazy, Mr. Reese. You can't swallow a whole person. It's-- it's frickin' impossible!!"

"Well, yeah, for most people. But I'm different; there's somethin' special about my anatomy that lets me do it. Big mouth, big throat, big stomach... just ask my doctor. Trust me, I can do it." Jim knew this might not be completely true... after all, when he'd done it before (three days earlier), Doctor Moffat had given him some kind of injection as well. Whether he could do it now, without the drug, remained to be seen.

Ken still seemed unconvinced. He looked out the window again, anxiously.

"Well, we're runnin' outta time, son," Jim said, "Do you wanna try it or not?"

"But... you'll let me back out, right?"

"Yeah, sure, of course I will."

The kid shrugged. "What the hell, I guess I got no choice. Okay."

"Damn right!" Jim tried to suppress his excitement. Ever since the doctor's appointment, he'd been thinking of little else but swallowing someone again -- and now he had his chance!! Of course he intended to release the boy afterwards...

but he thought, maybe he could try to keep him inside for awhile? Say, ten minutes or so? Would he survive in there that long??

"Er, what should I do...?"

The big man went to the tiny fridge and pulled out a stick of butter. "Take off all yer clothes and rub this on you."

Ken's face screwed up. "What are you gonna do, fry me up first?"

"It's to make you slide down easy. Come on. And take that earring off, too." Jim looked through the blinds. "You better hurry up, son. I think the cop is comin' this way," he lied.

Kenny started to undress. Jim took off his own shirt, undid the button on his jeans, and unzipped his fly part-way. He saw Ken looking at him as he did this, and said, "Gotta make room for ya." He patted his belly. "You're a big boy."

The young man was completely nude now. After hesitating for a moment, he picked up the stick of butter and began to rub it over his chest. "It's cold!"

"Don't worry, you'll get nice and warmed up once you're inside me." Jim realized that he was starting to salivate. His stomach began to grumble and groan in anticipation, and he wondered if Kenny could hear it...

After the boy had buttered himself up, Jim ordered him to lie down on the cot, on his back. He dropped to his knees heavily at the foot of the cot and grabbed him firmly by the ankles, lifting his feet up. He hoped the hunger in his face wasn't too obvious. Now Jim could see a hint of fear in Ken's expression, and realized he'd have to work fast and get it done with before he changed his mind. (And just in case the policeman came around, too!)

He said in a reassuring tone, "It's okay, kid. I promise it won't hurt a bit. I've done this before." He grinned. Then he crouched down and opened his mouth very, very wide...

"Shit, man," Ken mumbled.

With a grunt, Jim quickly thrust both feet into his mouth and part-way down his throat -- Ken giggled despite his fear, squirming around as if he was being tickled. Jim grasped his legs more tightly and pushed again, taking him in almost to the knees with a thick, slurping sound.

"Holy cow, I can't believe you're doing that!" the boy said in amazement. "Hey, wait, I just thought of something... will I even be able to breathe in there?"

Jim tried to nod (which wasn't easy), and gulped again, taking his legs in even further. He couldn't believe how fantastic this felt... the kid was delicious! He'd be moaning with pleasure if his throat hadn't been so full. He wished he could slow down and enjoy every inch of Kenny's smooth, firm, sweet flesh as it slipped inside him, but there wasn't enough time -- besides, he was too ravenous!

Ken's face turned pale as he watched the huge man's mouth working to take him in, gobbling him up, the lips stretching around his hips and ass now. "Goddamn..." he whispered.

Jim's eyes were starting to roll over white with the effort. He continued to swallow, while at the same time holding Ken by his upper arms and shoving him in. Then he guided his hands into his mouth, gaping even wider to engulf the boy's muscular torso and arms. He could feel his legs starting to fold up inside his belly.

"Uhh, Mr. Reese?"

He ignored him. He couldn't believe the power of his throat muscles; it seemed they were working on auto-pilot, flexing and gulping almost on their own, practically sucking the kid down his gullet... it felt so natural. He realized there was no question now as to whether or not he needed drugs to do this.

But the most difficult part was coming: Kenny's wide shoulders...

Ken seemed to be having a bit of trouble breathing with the pressure on his chest. His eyes were starting to bug out, and there was an incredulous expression on his face; Jim imagined that he must've looked quite bizarre right now, with his mouth stetched out to grotesque proportions.

This was starting to get harder, and the sensation of fullness was unbelievable. Perhaps the boy was too big? Had he bitten off more than he could chew, so to speak?

The young man blurted, "I-- I'm not sure about this anymore. Wait..." He began to struggle feebly, but his arms were pinned to his sides, inside Jim's throat.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the trailer door. A voice called out, "Anyone in there?"

Jim's heart lunged. Shit, it was the cop! He looked Ken in the face, wondering what his reaction would be. Would he scream for help??

A moment of silence passed... then Ken seemed to make his decision: "Uh," he cleared his throat, and tried to talk in a deeper voice, "Yes, officer? I mean, who is it?"

Jim would've smiled if he could. He continued to swallow -- but now it felt like the kid was almost stuck!

"Jim Reese? I'd like to talk to you, if you don't mind."

"Uhh... okay, er, gimme a minute," Ken said.

Jim reached out, clamped onto Ken's shoulders and began forcefully shoving him in with all his strength, swallowing hard.

The door handle rattled. "Please open up, it's the police."

"Just-- just let me get some pants on! Oh, Christ..." Kenny gasped.

Now only his head still protruded from the man's mouth. Jim pushed on the crown of his head with both hands, and he continued to slide in... he could feel the kid's little beard scraping against the roof of his mouth.

In a muffled voice, he heard him say, "Jeez, it smells like hamburgers in here..."

And then he closed his mouth completely over him and gulped hugely. He felt the boy going all the way down, filling his gut...

The cop was knocking again, impatiently. "Sir, will you open the door??"

Jim was gasping for air. "Yeah, yeah," he managed to say. He could feel Ken squirming around inside him -- it seemed like he was trying to turn around. He gulped down several large mouthfuls of air so the kid could breathe. Then he got up with a loud grunt, steadying himself against the wall. The weight in his gut was incredible; he was having some difficulty just standing up!

He quickly kicked Ken's clothes and shoes under the cot, then unlocked the door.

The police officer looking up at him was on the short side, but quite burly. He had a thick, brown, brush-like moustache and a buzzcut. He was carrying his cap under one arm.

Almost immediately, his eyes went to Jim's enormous, round globe of a belly, and his jaw dropped slightly. But then he tried to compose himself and looked Jim in the face, saying in a firm voice, "Is there a problem?"

"Uh, no-- sorry I took so long, officer. I was... I had to put some clothes on." Jim tried to laugh.

The cop looked at him suspiciously. "I thought I heard someone else in here."

"Nope, just me. I was having a little snooze."

"Well... I'm Officer Banks. May I come in? I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Oh, sure." Jim backed up to allow the guy to enter.

"So you're the foreman on this site, Mr. Reese?" The cop couldn't seem to help himself; he kept glancing down at Jim's gut. Jim was nervous... for some reason, Ken was struggling a bit inside him, and he hoped it wouldn't be visible from the outside. Was the boy uncomfortable?

"Yes."

The policeman looked slowly around the interior of the trailer. He said, "You know a young man named Kenneth Delaney?"

"Yeah, I think so. He's one of the employees' kids."

"Have you seen him today?"

Jim's stomach gurgled audibly. "Ah, no. Haven't seen him."

"You sure? One of your workmen seems to think he came up here. He's in a bit of trouble, I'm afraid."

"Sorry, I was sleeping. I didn't see anyone." From Jim's belly came a small moan; Jim thumped a hand to his gut and uttered a short, loud burp. "Ooof... 'scuse me, officer!"

Banks couldn't seem to contain himself any longer -- chuckling, he poked Jim in the belly and said, "I'm sorry, but... man! That is some huge gut you've got there, buddy." He shook his head. "You got a horse in there, or what?"

"Aw, no, it's just fat. And... I had a big lunch today, too." Jim smiled broadly.

"Never seen anything like that. Damn! Sorry, I hope I haven't embarassed you."

"That's alright, I know I could stand to lose 'bout 200 pounds. So, umm... what's the boy done?"

"I can't really tell you that." The cop took another quick look around the trailer. "Well, you just keep an eye out for him, okay?"

"Okay, sure thing."

"Thanks for your time. You take care, sir." He left.

Jim could feel a massive belch building up, trying to escape. He sat down on the cot with a groan. Ken was wriggling around more now, and he could hear him trying to say something -- obviously, he wanted to be released.

Now that the policeman was gone Jim could relax, and really savour the experience of having a whole, live person inside his stomach. It felt great, even better than with the doctor... he'd never had such an enjoyable and satisfying meal in his life!

And now he was starting to realize something else: he didn't want to let the boy back out after all. He knew he had to; he'd surely suffocate in there before long and besides, he thought he could feel his digestive juices starting to flow. Just awhile longer, he thought...

The kid moaned again from inside his gut. His struggles seemed to be weakening.

Mm-mmm... he'd sure been a tasty morsel. He felt so full... and yet he thought that he could probably take someone even a little bigger than Kenny, next time. Jim rubbed his belly, opened his mouth wide and heaved out a huge, long, thun- derous belch. He was about to gulp down some fresh air for the boy, but then stopped himself.

With a sigh, he stretched out onto his back instead. I guess this was my plan all along, he thought to himself. Wasn't it? He didn't know if he could actually digest such an incredible amount of food...

but he supposed there was only one way to find out.

[patroxlos]

home base . ch7

"friends who use their phones in bed" - 5.4k words

ultraman: rising (2024). kenji sato x reader

can be read as a stand-alone. However, if you want to read their first kiss, you may do so for added context.

master post. ao3 link.

previous: ch6. "friends who are stuck together"

next: ch7. "friends who are for the people"

cw: EXPLICIT. First time fellatio. frottage.

Two weeks after your first kiss, you and Kenji get more comfortable with your new dynamic as friends with benefits.

And even in the heat of things, you still find something to argue about.

---

Los Angeles, Ten Years Ago.

“Any plans for tomorrow?”

You look up from your dinner as your Auntie Emiko asked. She sits across you at the dining table where you sat beside Ken. “Hm…I think we might stay in again for the day. Right, Ken?”

Ken is in the middle of shoveling some more grilled salmon into his mouth when you redirect the attention to him, and he nods in agreement, his voice muffled. His mom and you have matching looks of disgust on your face as he tries to speak with his mouth full.

“…yeah. It is stay-in day tomorrow,” you confirm.

Emiko looks puzzled. “But Kenji doesn’t have practice tomorrow. Don’t you guys want to head out to the city?”

“We don’t really know what else to see,” you say a lame excuse. In response, she curiously looks at you then at Ken, who finally swallows his food.

“You both rarely leave your room lately when last month you were bouncing to explore the whole state.”

“Training really tires me out,” Ken smoothly responds, rolling his neck from side to side in an exaggerated stretch. “Leaves me with no energy to want to do anything else. After a week on the field all I want to do is lie back.”

She pauses momentarily as she looks at her son, and you force yourself to maintain a calm demeanor. Is she onto us? “Maybe…when you have your days in, you can leave the door unlocked and open?”

Before Ken can protest, you subtly step on his foot to tell him, Don’t complain.

“Is this because you feel lonely, Auntie?” You ask sweetly. Emiko looks a bit taken aback by your question. “I understand it might feel like you’re all alone in the house when Kenji and I are holed up just playing video games together.”

“I…I guess it does…” She let her guard down slightly around you. She can expect Kenji to pull something, but you? The daughter she never had?

“How about tomorrow morning we head to brunch? Just the two of us! We can even schedule a last minute appointment to the salon,” you spun the dream mother-daughter bonding day. “We’ll be back in time for Kenji to wake up at noon.”

“Hey I don’t wake up—”

“Of course we can spend the morning together.” Your auntie places her hand over her heart, touched. All business with the door and how they spend their time completely forgotten.

She does not need to know what you and Ken do in your spare time nowadays.

And with the door locked for the evening, she definitely does not need to know how the sweet little girl she is so fond of has her head in-between her son’s legs.

“What was that earlier?” Ken asks, breathless. He sat up by his arms as he looks down at you, tracing with his gaze the path your lips followed, edging closer to the front of his boxers. You left the lights on, and it reflects off your trail of saliva on his inner thighs.

You don’t respond immediately, busying yourself with the soft, flexible skin good enough to bite. You expect everything about him to be taut and firm, an athlete to his core. It’s cute that he can get so pliable when your touch melts him like so. You anchor your palms at the back of his legs to hold him open as you continue to tease his thighs.

You hear your name tumble out of his mouth when your tongue swipes a fat line at his growing bulge, against the salty wet spot of his boxers, his muscles tensing under your hold. “You really want to talk about your mom right now?”

“I…I— oh…” He can’t think straight when you start nuzzling your face against his swelling size. “Shit—”

You continue to lick him through the fabric, his musk filling your senses. You try not to giggle when you feel him twitching eagerly against your tongue. You lift your head to give a small kiss once more to his thigh. “Mind taking it off?”

You’re still fully clothed, in your sleep shirt and shorts, compared to him. Shakily, he pushes himself to sit up properly. His hands reach for the elastic band of his boxers, trying his best not to look too eager when you help him tug it off his legs. Without the fabric keeping it down, his dick jumps to attention, long with a slight curve towards his right.

“Take it slow…” he encourages you, his voice a little breathless as you lower your head closer to his wet tip. He deeply inhales when you clasp your left hand around his base. His eyes screw shut, the anticipation making his toes curl.

A pleasant prickle crawls up his spine when he feels your warm, moist breath hit the head of his cock.

Your hand slides up along his thick vein, following his natural curve.

And as soon as it started, he feels a draft of cool air down below when you move away.

“Wait.” You back up and reach for your phone nearby on the mattress. “What’s the next step again?”

Ken freezes, and opens his eyes.

You’re busy tapping out your lockscreen passcode.

Ken flops backwards to the bed, his palms covering his face in frustration. “Oh, fuck me—”

“I’m getting there,” you snap as you scroll through your digital notes.

He groans impatiently, his erection growing painful as it stands proud in the air. His legs are still spread wide. “Just put your mouth on it, I said I’ll teach you.”

“And I said to wait.” You crawl back between his legs but your gaze doesn’t lift from your phone. “Maybe you should sit at the edge of the bed and I’ll kneel down? Or maybe sideways in case you want to finger me while we—”

“The current position is fine…” He tries to sit back up but you push him down with a hand on his chest.

You begin to mutter to yourself, running through the steps you have written down. “Mmm… warmed you up, yeah…consent?” You look up from your phone to Ken expectantly.

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, you did have my consent,” He hisses.

“Okay…hm…take of your shirt, kiss down your chest, tease your inner thighs…leave a few marks?” You glance down, at his legs. “Haha, yeah, nice—”

“Are you done? Because I’m growing soft here.”

“Hey, keep it hard, I’m doing my best,” you whine.

“Well all this talk isn’t helping.” He swats your hand away and successfully sits up, his elbows resting on his knees as you still sat in between his legs.

You roll your eyes and put down your phone to remove your shirt, exposing a modest bra. “There, have something to look at.”

“Can you at least take off your—” He does not finish the sentence as you throw the bra at his face. Grumbling some more, he tosses it to the side.

Normally, fooling around with you isn’t so clinical. Ever since your first kiss by the pool almost two weeks ago, it’s hard to remember a time when his hands aren’t on you. Your normal trips around town are now defined by rough makeouts in alleyways and end in hurried handjobs at the backseat of his jeep when you cannot wait to get back home. Your touch is an aphrodisiac at this point, and he fears he may overdose. Maybe you should have had separate rooms, because he is starting to feel the recklessness of his libido.

Because when you asked him the previous night if he could help you learn how to give a blowjob, he nearly skips training earlier today in anticipation for what is to come.

Apparently, no one is going to come at all now with how Type A you are with something as instinctual as oral sex.

Normally he will find it cute how your nervousness can translate to overpreparing. However, he needs to figure out how to turn your brain off.

“Okay, look…” He reaches forward to touch your bare shoulder. You hesitantly rest your phone on your lap as you hear him out. “How about you lie down and I eat you out? How about that?”

“No,” you reject him immediately, like how you rejected him the dozen other times he asked, offered and even begged. “I want to do you first.”

Even if you’re both equally stubborn, Ken still tries to be patient with you. Slowly, he shifts closer, pressing himself against you as he begins to rub your arm. “But, princess, how are you going to know whether a guy is doing it right if you won’t let me go down on you?”

“I don’t think this arrangement allows for pet names,” you huff, and he rolls his eyes. “Besides, I don’t get why you want to that much.”

“Baby,” he sees your eyes twitch, “it’s because you taste good.”

You slap his knee, flushing from the obscene compliment, but you can’t say anything back.

Taking it as a good sign, he lets his hand drift a bit lower to your waist, giving you a light massage. You let out a deep sigh, and you lean forward to give him a kiss, reaching forward to clasp around his girth. Your other hand loosens its grip on your phone, and it falls off your lap and onto the ruffled navy bed covers. 

He groans into your mouth deliciously with every shallow pump. Your lips are gentle, yet deliberate, and he marvels at just how good you move against him when you were a stammering amateur weeks ago.

You pull away, slowly, yet your hand still loosely holds him. Your thumb lightly swipes the slit of his head and his mouth falls open.

“You always make me feel good,” you murmur. “I want to make you feel it too. Wanna prove to you that I deserve it. You teach me so much so I want to show off what I now know.”

“God you’re so stupid.” He laughs without malice. “You don’t have to blow me to prove anything. I already told you that if the guy likes you enough it’ll always feel good.”

“You don’t like me that way though,” you point out. “So I need to prove my skills.”

“What skills?” He makes a face. “You can’t automatically expect yourself to be the blowjob expert on your first time. Just feel it out and avoid showing teeth. It isn’t something you can just practice—“

You turn away.

“…you practiced?”

“…I wanted to impress you?” You fiddle with your phone. “I studied really hard and tried to apply what I learned—“

“Woah woah, did you— did you, with other guys—“

“No! No, I never…I practiced in other ways.”

Neither of you understand why his body sags with so much relief when you say that, or why it mattered if you did anyway.

Still, he needs to pry. “So…how?”

“God I’m not telling you, you pervert.”

“Your hand is on my dick.”

You smear said hand against his face, his pre-cum wiped against his nose. He laughs and grabs your wrist with his left to keep your hand there.

“What are you doing?” You tug to get your hand back but he keeps it right in front of him.

“Just look at me.” His exhale tickles your fingertips.

And without breaking eye contact, his mouth opens a bit more, then closes softly over your index and middle fingers.

“K-Kenji?”

He responds with a gentle suckle, his lips passing your second knuckle. You feel the rough texture of his tongue run over your fingertips, pressing flat against its pads. A soft whimper leaves you, as a familiar heat unfurls from deep within. He notices the way your legs unconsciously shift closer, seeking pressure to alleviate your spreading itch. He chuckles, and the vibrations run through your body and settle just below your navel.

The entire time he continues to watch you, catching every quiver of your lip and twitch of your brow. He’s let go of your wrist at this point, yet you hardly notice, your eyes fixated on how your fingers disappear into his mouth.

You only break from your stupor when he scrapes you with his teeth.

“Ah— Kenji!” You flinch, and he chuckles as you take your fingers out his mouth.

“And that’s what I mean by no teeth, except it’ll be ten times worse down there.”

You cradle your hand to your bare chest, then slowly nod in understanding. “Okay…I see…”

“Did it feel good?” He smiles wider when you glare back. “Don’t be shy, baby, tell me.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sweetheart.”

He lives to make life harder for you. You push down your pride. “Yes, Ken, it did.”

“How good?”

“Don’t.”

He grabs your waist to pull you onto his lap, and you hardly resist. Your legs fold beneath you as his own straightens out. You stabilize yourself on his shoulders, and as you properly sat onto him, you feel his dick wedged between your abdomens. You can feel him throb against your clit, only separated by two thin layers of fabric.

His head dips down to the top of your breasts, his hair tickling your nose as he begins to lightly kiss the start of your cleavage. He stretches the band of your shorts before snapping it back against your hips. “You’re overly dressed.”

“H-Hngh… can’t take it off tonight until— ah, shit—let me taste you.” Your stubbornness will be the death of you.

“Dumb rule,” he sasses back, before he cups your right breast to push it upwards to his mouth.

You nearly cry out, the hot wet sensation on your nipple and the soft massage of your breasts are a dangerous combination. You rock your hips forward on his lap, greedy for more. His teeth grazes your nipple in response, hissing harshly when he feels the underside of his cock scratch pleasantly against your shorts.

Your head is thrown back, and your eyes are tightly closed. His hair brushes against your chin as his tongue makes its way to your left breast. He smiles against your soft flesh, rolling your hard bud around in his mouth. “Shit, you’re getting close from this?”

You sharply tug his hair, pulling him off your chest, too embarrassed to admit that you are. Yet, instead of the annoyed grunt you expected, the pain on his scalp causes Ken to let out a strangled moan. Oh, you are stunned, he’s freakier than you thought.

He grins, bringing his left hand up to cup your face. You rest your cheek in his palm and your lips part, sighing at his foolishness. He rests his thumb on your bottom lip, coaxing you to open up further. “Your turn.”

“Hm?” You hum against his touch.

“Show me.”

Maintaining eye contact as he had done, you gently kiss the tip of his thumb, until you take it whole into your mouth.

“Oh fuck…”

His right hand grasps your hips to guide you into a rocking motion on his lap. You pant as you grind against him, the head of his cock tapping against your belly button. He presses down on your tongue, as you lean more into his palm for support. As your panting slows, you begin to suck lewdly on his thumb to stop yourself from being too loud.

You are close. Shit.

And he can tell from your sloppy pace as you grind against him without any real rhythm, to the fucked out look in your eyes. The only goal bouncing in your empty brain is release.

“Can’t even talk?” He teases. His balls feel heavy and painful as you suck his thumb, and he aches to feel your mouth elsewhere. “Open wider, princess.”

Your eyes narrow slightly, showing you’re not as out of it as he expected you to be, but still you comply. His thumb slides out, replaced by his index and middle finger. Your eyes flutter closed, puckering your lips to take more of him in. You gag as his fingers nearly brush the back of your tongue, and the sound shoots straight to his dick. You haven’t even fit it fully in your mouth yet.

 “Fuck…god you’re so hot. You’re also so, so stupid.”

You let out a garbled protest, still every bit of the fighter you are, yet he pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth until your front teeth nearly scrapes against the base knuckles. Your chest heaves at the sudden intrusion, yet you clench your thighs at the sides of his lap.

“Do you think I’d do this for just anyone?” He interrogates you, fully knowing you can’t respond. “You’re so smart, baby, but god can you be so fucking clueless.”

The other hand on your hips slides towards your shorts and dips low over your clit, rubbing circles over the fabric as you reach your high. Ken’s ego swells as you suck his fingers harder, your senses going overdrive from the pleasure.

“You’re getting off to this?”

His fingers are spat out of your mouth when you fall forward to rest your forehead on his shoulder, trembling from his touch. “Fuck you, Sato. Fuck you fuck you—“

“That’s it, ride it out…” He coos, kissing the side of your head as he slips his hand into your shorts to directly stroke you through your orgasm. He lightly pinches your bud. His other hand pats your hair soothingly. “You can bite, I don’t mind.”

You sob as your teeth bluntly sinks into his shoulder, and he groans from the pain and the dampness that coats his fingers. His dick weeps against your stomach from neglect.

You raise your head as he cleans his fingers with his mouth, groaning at your taste. “Oh god—” he curses even if this is far from the first time he has had a sample of you.

“Don’t…be dramatic,” your words are slightly slurred as you calm down from your high.

He kisses you in response, his neediness spilling out and his grip digging into your waist. He swallows your gasp as he guides you down to the mattress, caging you down with his body. “Please…” He murmurs against your lips when his thumbs hook on the band of your shorts.

He begins to pull it down by an inch.

You roughly push him away by his shoulders, appalled. “Motherfucker, you’ve been trying to distract me.”

“And I was so close too,” he grumbles when you catch him, and he tries to lean back in but you hold him at arm's length, your hands splayed against his defined pectorals. “You get all ditzy when you’re in it.”

“No.”

“Fuck, please just a little taste…” He lifts one hand from your shorts to cup your mound, your wetness having seeped through the cotton. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

You kick him lightly on the shin in response, and he rolls his eyes. You push him off of you, and he does not resist, but he still pulls you close to his side as you sit up on the bed. His hand tries to dip once more into your shorts but you stop it just as it tries to pass your navel. “I just came.”

“That’s even better.”

You shove him back down onto the bed, trying to resume your position from the start of the night. His dick blooms an angry red now, frustrated from being ignored for so long. “That looks like it hurts,” you comment as you settle in between his legs again.

“It does,” he confirms, pushing himself up by his arms as he lays bare, all for you.

You have always been intimidated by his length, and every time you hold it you worry at the back of your mind just how on earth it would even fit if you two ever cross that point. Of course you’ve never told Ken— he doesn’t need to know you’ve deeply thought about how he might feel inside you, or how the curve of his dick may pulse against your walls.

“Are you just going to stare at it?” He snaps you out of your thoughts. Ken tilts his head to the side, a bored look on his face.

Flustered, you shake your head immediately. “I-I just need a moment to…”

“You know, there’s a way to ease your nerves.”

“Really? What is it?”

“So the first step involves my tongue against your—“

“Ken. I’ll smother you in your sleep.”

“You know how many girls would kill for their boyfriends to go down on them?” He continues.

“Well you’re not my boyfriend.”

“Exactly, because boyfriends don’t go down on you. And with your type for guys I definitely don’t think any of them would be as generous as me right now,” he says as if it is fact. He’s conceited, but wouldn’t you also be if you were in his position?

Think about it. No one else can give you as good of a first time as he can, because no one knows you like he does. He pities you, really. Because no other guy would be as patient and careful as he is with you. They won’t take the time to hold you the way he does, to feel for what you like and push your comfort zone. No, all other boys just care about getting their dick wet, and they won’t even look half as good as him. You’re too pretty to settle for anyone less than himself. Six foot and still growing. A wide chest, slim waist. And he knows you know he’s a lot bigger than average. He has visible abs for god’s sake, does that mean nothing to you? It’s terrible but he is such a good, giving best friend. He could’ve left you alone to kiss mediocre boys and eventually marry a mediocre man, most likely someone your parents picked out for you. And you’ll never know the touch of what you deserve. He’s doing this for you. So at least when you go on to pursue whoever can give you that mediocre love, you’ll always know there’s someone better out there. It’s cruel to curse you to a perpetual state of wanting, but he can’t help it. You deserve the world, and you need to feel what it’s like to have it all, even if you may never find what you had with him ever again in someone else.

And Ken wishes he can say all that to you, but he knows you’ll just bash him on the head for even implying that you can’t get any better than him. Except he won’t even be implying. You just don’t get it— he can’t imagine anyone being good enough for you.

Unaware of his internal monologue, you search around for your phone. “Okay, but let me run through my notes again—”

You reach for it when you spot it close to his foot, but he reaches for it faster. He grabs your phone and flings it towards the sofa.

“Ken what the hell—”

He pulls you back between his legs, stopping you from chasing after it. “Don’t.”

“You could’ve broke my screen!” You nearly shout even if your phone is safe amongst the sofa pillows.

“I’m a varsity baseball player. You think I don’t know how to aim?”

“I can’t believe you—”

“Do you want to suck my dick or not?”

“I do!” You say weakly. You really do.

“Then you need to get it in your head that you’re being an idiot.”

You try to slap him but he grabs your wrist.

“Not every guy is blessed to have a pretty girl willing to even touch them, and if it’s you? You’re practically doing charity. All you have to do is bat your eyes and drool a bit and they’ll come before your lips even touch the tip.”

You’re…oddly reassured.

“Sweetheart,” he continues, sarcastic. “Why do you think we’ve been messing around this entire time?”

You’re confused, but answer anyway. “Because you’re helping me learn how to—”

“Wrong.” He cuts you off. “We don’t have to makeout all the time to teach you how to do it.”

You think for a moment. “Practice?”

“We cuddle.”

“Okay, that doesn’t mean anything—”

“Exactly. It doesn’t mean anything. So why are you trying to tackle this like I’m grading you?” He gets you there.

You actually don’t know what there is to be nervous about. And why are you giving him the satisfaction that he does make you nervous?

“Listen, we’re not dating, and I’m mature enough to admit that this ‘teach ‘me’ thing is just an excuse. You like this. I like this. We’re friends who make each other feel good and there’s nothing weird about it.”

His grip loosens on your wrist, but holds it just the same.

Your shoulders slump, realization sinking in. Kenji is right.

He presses your hand onto his chest, and gently, he drags it downwards. You swallow, still scared, but you let him take charge. “I’ll talk you through it,” he murmurs. “So don’t think.”

You feel him purposely brush your fingers against his toned core, just to let you feel how deep the ridges are. You snort, and give him a look to say ‘really?’ Arrogant prick. Show-off.

He ignores you, and soon, he guides your hands to touch the pulsing base of his cock. “Gently,” he whispers, “It hurts a bit now, since all your stalling gave me blue balls.”

“That’s not a real thing,” you scoff, but you soon lower yourself down with your face a few inches from his tip.

“I thought I’m the one teaching you. Your only job right now is to listen.”

“Did you shave?” You giggle, not listening at all as your other hand gently cups his balls. You feel his freshly-shaven stubble.

He hisses at your touch, and nearly bucks into your face, but he steels himself with his waning self-control. “Shut up. I thought it’ll make you more comfortable.”

“Is that why you were nearly late to practice today? I thought you just needed an extra long shower after what we did this morning.” You give him shallow strokes down his length, light enough to ease the blood pressure that built up inside.

“Just…if you want to tease a guy…try licking around at the base first,” He changes the subject, entering his teaching mode.

“Hm…” You nod in understanding, ducking your head down lower just for him and slowing the shallow pumps of your hand.

Tentatively, you lick the bottom of his base, tasting the salty tartness of his sweat. You close your eyes to gather a sense of courage, and soon, you let go of your shame and carefully begin to give him long, broad strokes highlighted by the roughness of your tongue.

You hear a strangled noise from above but you paid him no mind, getting lost in his flavor. The masculine musk clouds your judgment and you bump your nose against his pubic bone. With one hand still cupping him, you brought your lips down towards his balls, planting an open-mouthed kiss on them before carefully putting them in your mouth to suck.

You felt him jolt beneath you, your name ringing out to the room. “Oh, fuck—“

His fingers brush against your cheekbone when he rushes to grip his legs. His nails dig into his skin while you remain oblivious to his waning self-control. Because who taught you that? Not him.

His mouth is locked open. His chest rises and falls as he tries to maintain a semblance of sanity. Ken is so pent up right now, he’s worried he won’t be able to hold himself back from releasing prematurely.

But here you are— dick resting on half of your face, as if measuring your head against it, with your mouth on his balls and your sultry eyes lazily blinking open.

You whine when he hastily pushes your face off of him, and his dick twitches from the sound.

“Don’t look at me like that,” his voice is hoarse.

“Was it bad?” You ask, confused as to why he suddenly made you stop.

“I-It’s okay. It was good.” He’s going to blow any minute now. “I…I need you to take it slow.”

“Okay,” you nod, leaning back down.

“You can, uh, kiss up the shaft from the base,” he struggles to remember how to talk. “Then when you get to the tip—“

You push your head close to his crotch before he can say anything more, and he nearly keens when your longue laps at his protruding vein, following it up to his tip. Your head is spinning, eager to please and to draw out even more sounds from his throat.

You let a puff of hot air hit his angry head. You look up for assurance.

His cheeks are dusted with a light pink, eyes unfocused, but he still manages a weak nod. “Yeah…yeah, just spit on it.”

You gather your saliva in your mouth, and let it dribble on his cock. He curses, louder, and you’re glad that the Satos are rich enough to afford thick walls.

Because when your lips finally envelope his head he loses his filter.

“Shiiit….Baby that’s it, just take it—ah— take it slow… Remember to breathe through your nose, yeah? Yeah— oh fuck babe…”

You struggle to pay attention to his words, but you slacken your jaw to accommodate his size and try to breathe as he said. You are getting dizzy from how full your mouth is. You rub your own thighs together, your brain swimming with the thought of this inside you, and you clench over nothing.

Mindful of your teeth, you try to move a bit further down, greedy to see how much more you can accommodate. He notices, and immediately his hands reach for the sides of your head to stop you. “D-don’t push it…” he slurs. “You’ll choke.”

Your eyelashes flutter, and you feel tears forming at the corners of your eyes. You don’t mind that at all.

Still, you’re realistic with yourself. You can’t make it to half of his length without gagging, and you feel him twitch in your mouth when you do. He likes it when you’re noisy.

You grab his hips to hold him down, aware of how he’s struggling not to buck up into your mouth and fuck your face. His fingers massage your scalp as a thank you for the added leverage.

“Does your jaw hurt, princess?” He reaches for the hinges of your jaw. His thumbs press down and lightly massaging your face. “Fuck— I can tell by that dumb, pretty look on your face that your brain s’all empty.”

You hollow out your cheeks, and your tears fall as you bob your head up and down dutifully. He wipes your tears as they slide down your cheek, cooing about how cute you look.

“You’re so good to me.” He brushes your hair out of your eyes. “You like sucking dick this much, huh, girl? — Oh god, that’s it. Drool some more for me sweetie… You’re a natural. Wouldn’t have guessed from how much you hate shutting up.”

You let your bottom teeth poke out slightly, and he pulls your hair as a warning. “Hey, ah-ah, behave.”

Your tongue is placed flat against the bottom of his cock, warm against his pulse. He lets out a relieved sigh, patting your cheek condescendingly. He can’t help but want to be a little mean to you. “See, baby? Don’t even need me to tell ya what to do. You lying about being shy? Only wanted to hear me say how much I like you?”

It’s so embarrassing how much you needed him to say more.

His grunts grow staggered, and his breathing picks up. He tugs harder on your hair as he gets closer to his release. The burn on your scalp feels so good when you’re deprived of oxygen.

“I-I’m…gonna…” He tries to properly warn you. “Don’t swallow. You’re not ready.”

He tries to pull your head off of him but you’re stubborn, sucking down even harder. You hate it when he tells you not to do something.

He curses out your name. “Fuck, I’m being serious, don’t—”

You flinch at the hot release that hits the back of your throat, and you sputter around his cock as the amount quickly overwhelms you. It leaks out the corners, dripping down his length and onto the sheets.

He wishes he can take a picture of your fucked out, tear-stained face. You look up, his cum still on your lips when you take your mouth off him. “That good?”

God, you’ll be the death of him.

A/N: hi i hope this wasnt awkward it's my first time publishing anything explicit fsdihodfs.

this was about to be a 15k word chapter with three acts: bedroom, gas station, first time— they all take place one after the other. the chapter wouldve been called "friends who run a marathon" bc it was just marathon sex lmao i wanted to convey that the two kind of fall into this hedonistic routine That is Actually Kind of Bad for them! still...15k words of you two fooling around like who wants to read that in one go (i did. i rlly did. i rlly didnt wanna split this chapter but it narratively makes sense fsdiohdfs)

i was starting to feel bad about how long it will take me to update if i stuck w the original plan so I decided to split the chapter into two and reserve the gas station and first time for chapter 9! next chapter we will go back to the main timeline. i dont want to write them too much in their teen years bc they are a lot crazier when theyre young adults, which is why i wanted to cram it all in one long chapter.

[devoutekuna]

Playing a sport with them

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

"Come on daddy" trying to drag the man out of the house, refusing to move an inch, he wasn't in the mood for baseball, especially since his daughter couldn't even play properly. "No, go away" flicking the girl off him.

Somehow he ended up outside pitching a ball for his daughter. "Watch this daddy!" Missing the ball miserably, it kind of stung watching his daughter be so unathletic despite only being 3. "How pitiful.." leaving snarky remarks under his breath. "Again!" Throwing the ball back at him. "Again" that's all he could hear as she kept throwing the ball back, hoping to at least get a hit before sunset.

Nanami-

This man isn't big on sports, never in your lifetime would you expect your husband to be good at it, somehow he was always in shape. So he had to be good at something, and that something was.. tennis? His daughter finding his old collection of tennis rackets he was yet to throw out. "Daddy! Let's play tennis" dumping the balls and 2 bats on the ground near his leg. "Since when did you play tennis ken?" Inquiring into his past life.

"Hi-yahh!" Hitting the ball but not over the net, as much as he loved his daughter. He couldn't handle playing with her, she didn't know how to play properly, to make it worse, she couldn't even reach over the net. "Try again." At this rate, he could sit down and eat his breakfast before she even got it over the net.

Feeling bad for the girl he decided to go teach her. "Throw the ball up" doing as he said. "Now swing" grabbing her arm as he guided it towards the ball, hitting it perfectly over the net.

Geto-

He used to do swimming till he realised how ridiculous he looked with his hair all in the swimming cap, that's why he switched to volleyball. Plus they didn't have a pool in the house so he opted for some volleyball. It was around 7pm in winter when she wanted to play, so of course it was too dark, meaning they couldn't head outside incase she got lost. "Okay, don't hit the chandelier or any of the pottery." Making sure you weren't around to watch how stupid the pair were being. He'd never play in the house with a ball, it was a rule you both agreed on, yet he was doing it right now. "What do you call that?" Hitting the ball towards him. "A serve?" He didn't know what he was talking about since it had been so long since he played. "Well! I did a serve" putting her hands on her hips like a superhero.

Gojo-

"Go easy on him Satoru" handing him a water bottle, your son and his father were currently playing basketball after switching from baseball. Gojo knew how much of an advantage he had compared to his off spring, his height, experience and overall everything since he was against a 3 year old. "Nope" slapping his arm. "Why not?" Your son was a crybaby, always tearing up whenever his father did something he didn't like. "Because.." he didn't have a proper reason for why he wouldn't go easy.

"Hurry up daddy" throwing the ball at the man's back, you didn't understand how easily he was caught off guard when his family was around. "At least let him get a shot, Satoru!" Shouting at your husband before he ran off.

Toji-

He didn't really do sports growing up, he normally just threw a ball to his ceiling for hours on end, trying to clear his boredom. "Catch papa!" Throwing the toy ball at him. He wasn't in the mood for any kind of activity, he just wanted to be lazy today. Purposely throwing the ball into the room opposite him, sighing as he saw his daughter run towards the ball. "Catch!" Throwing it back at him, this process went on for a few minutes. He didn't have the heart to tell her that he wasn't in the mood, just seeing her chubby face light up each time.

[atarathegreat]

Scary Wife Privilages Tokyo Revengers

Featuring: Kokonoi Hajime, Ken Ryuguji (Draken), Rindou Haitani, Atsushi Sendo (Akkun)

Synopsis: They don't need you to stand up for them, but damn do they love when you get feisty.

It was crazy to you the extent of disrespect that Kokonoi would put up with while you were around. Everyone was aware of how ruthless the man could be, but they were also aware of how he hid it when you were around, and they took advantage of it. You lost count of how many people stopped in with random complaints about whatever Koko had done the previous week.

You lost count, sure, but not your temper.

Another poor soul walked in, anger evident on his face. Kokonoi wasn't any less pissed than you were, but he didn't like to explode when you happened to be with him. Of course, you knew this. You'd seen him strangle a man for information. You rolled your eyes thinking about it: how could he strangle a man in front of you with zero hesitation but he didn't want to get angry?

"Don't." You glared at the fancy suit and tie as he sat in the chair opposite the desk where Koko sat. "Don't say a word if it's negative." your voice was dark, heavy, almost dangerous, "Give your report and leave."

The man stared up at you as you leaned on Kokonoi's chair, "If there are problems then the boss needs to know."

Koko would be lying if he said he wasn't impressed with the way you leaned over his desk, grabbing the man by his tie and jerking him forward. He knew you had a temper but this...this was different. This made him wish he was on the receiving end of your death glare. "Say it then." Your words sent a chill up Koko's spine, "Tell me your complaint."

And for the first time, Koko seen one of his men speechless. You were scaring the hell out of him, even more so than any gun.

"No, ma'am, it's okay..." His underling whimpered. Koko had never heard any of his men whimper. But there it was, the fear in his eyes and a very pathetic whine that came out as he spoke.

Inui and Kenny had been busting their asses all day. They'd fixed bike after bike, crushed their fingers, bruised their legs, and Kenny slammed his head into the shelf holding parts, effectively bringing the whole thing down. Inui had laughed, stating, "You're too damn tall for this little shop!"

You smiled, and your smile could've made the devil himself kneel in terror, "Then give your report and go."

As they were replacing a whole gas tank for an old rusted up bike, (Kenny knew it would be more use to the customer as scrap, but the man was adamant about getting the poor heap of metal fixed) someone started hitting the bell on the front desk like it was an emergency. Kenny looked up, sharing a look of exhaustion with Inui before they both stood and slowly made their way out.

"Finally!" The woman yelled and slammed her hands on the counter, "You fixed my sons bike and charged him extra! Who do you think you are?"

Inui, who was busy pulling the books for the week, responded before Kenny could, "I'm Inui Seishu, he's Ken Ryuguji."

Inui's sarcasm made the woman angrier, and Kenny, for the very first time, hated that his friends kneejerk reaction to people was dry sarcasm. She started yelling louder, getting on Ken's nerves as he stood and took it. What was he going to do? Him and Inui charged fairly on their work, and this was a woman, Kenny couldn't exactly brawl with her.

"Would you just give me your sons name so I can find what we fixed and how much we charged?" Inui asked dryly, glancing up from the computer.

"No! You're supposed to know this stuff already! Unless you're scamming everyone that comes into this store!" The woman was becoming red in the face, "Scammers! Overpriced mechanics."

A sweet gust of wind carried over Kenny, he didn't have time to groan about someone else coming in before you had analyzed the situation. You'd heard the woman yelling from outside, a plan of action already made and ready to be executed. Inui smiled at you, "Good evening, Y/n."

"Evening, Inui." Both men paused at the calm air in your voice, "What's the problem here?"

You were here, meaning Kenny could relax and let you handle this problem on legs. He smiled and waved at his daughter who was holding your hand tightly, she waved back and giggled when your hand absently rested in her hair. God, how did his day get twenty times better with just a simple little sound?

The woman quickly tried to usher you out of the shop, stopping when you gently shoved her hand away, "You better get your little girl out of here, these scammers-"

"Enough." Your tone was cold, "These men are charging just right for their expertise and parts they replace. Do you understand how much money it costs to order half the parts for a motorcycle?''

Inui piped up quickly, "I don't think she does, Miss Ryuguji. Enlighten her."

Now Kenny was regretting how funny it was that his friend loved instigating you.

"In the last month this shop has spent over 6734610 yen in bike parts, three pieces of which went to your sons bike three days ago. Inui," You looked over at him, "search the name Kyoka. Broken clutch, broken break and an old spark plug."

Everyone waited silently as Inui looked it up. Your daughter pulled her hand free and ran to her dad, whispering to him as he picked her up, "Mommy is real scary right now." Kenny nodded, "Mommy doesn't take this type of shit, does she, baby girl?" The young child giggled, "She said she was gonna have to beat ass when we came in."

Kenny covered his daughters mouth, "Hey, we talked about the swearing, didn't we?"

He didn't have time to get an answer from your daughter because you started yelling back at the older lady, "I don't care if your son used his whole damn paycheck to get his bike fixed. He's in his thirties and doesn't need his mommy to come and bitch about price for him. Go on! Yell some more, because I promise you, I am much louder."

She tucked tail and hurried from the shop, leaving you alone with the two mechanics, "You charged twenty yen over..."

Rindou, while he loved his brother very much, didn't like the man coming over. Ran had a bad habit of flirting with you and Rindou had caught his brother setting his hands on your thighs too many times. He wasn't worried about you falling for the ridiculous antics, you'd always removed Ran's hands promptly but respectfully, he just hated that his brother was encroaching on his wife. Ran could have any woman he wanted, why did he have to go after you?

Inui grinned, "Agree with us in public, huh?"

"Rin?" You called to him from across your shared bedroom, "I can see the way your eyebrows are moving. What are you thinking?"

He snapped out of his thoughts quickly, looking at the beautiful outfit you were wearing, the way your arms stretched as you struggled with the clasp of your necklace. "Nothing." Rindou muttered, stepping up behind you to grab the ends of the silver chain.

"Have I ever told you that you suck at lying to me?" Your eyes pierced his through the mirror of your vanity. He couldn't hide the small smirk, "You have."

Rindou appreciated the way you called him out so openly, most people were too afraid of him to, but you didn't fear anyone, not even Mikey, and Mikey had held a gun to your throat. "I...Is it bad that I don't want Ran to come over? I love him, but-"

"I think it's a normal reaction when a man keeps trying to seduce your wife." You were nothing if not brutally honest, "I can't say I'm thrilled to have him over, either."

And yet, despite neither of you being excited to see him, you both greeted Ran with smiles and hugs. You, of course, had to peel the older man from your body, chuckling as you stated, "Boundaries, Ran."

Ran knew the extent he could go, and he exploited it. Placing his hands on your lower back, just above your ass where you couldn't protest your boundaries, or grabbing your hand and tugging you away from Rindou at the worst moments. It was getting on Rindou's nerves the more the night went on, to the point that Rin was hanging onto your back and refusing to let you do anything without him. He was acting like a koala, and as much as you loved him, it was getting aggravating having two grown men following you around.

"Enough!" You snapped, scaring the brothers, "Sit down!"

They did, Ran smiling as you finally lost your temper with them. Rindou glared at his brother, kicking him under the table, "This is your fault..."

"Quiet." You sounded like a mother scolding her children, "We're going to set some new rules, okay? Good."

Rindou knew that none of the rules were meant for him, but the tone in your voice was, at the very least, worrying to him. He knew you could strangle Ran, not with pure strength but because Ran would let you, and he didn't want you to get any more pissed.

It might as well have been a brothel. The second you walked in you were slammed with the smell of perfume and expensive fabrics. You'd learned to take headache relief before showing up, and it helped for the most part. The women, Hostess's as your husband called them, were lined up all day. Mostly they stood and watched men walk in and pick another woman to have their fun with before they walked out, half drunk and with their pants undone while the woman spent the next hour getting fixed up.

"And for the love of god, Ran, stop flirting with me! I don't like you!" You huffed, crossing your arms, "I have zero attraction to you, give up. Because if you don't, and I say this heavily, Ran, I will bring out every ounce of Haitani that I have picked up in the last three years and I will sink you to the bottom of the ocean."

The man who greeted you as you walked in was quick to remove a dark velvet rope, letting you go up the steps to where you knew Atsushi was sitting. But you were greeted with a sight that made you cackle.

Atsushi was sitting in his usual spot on one of the overpriced couches, legs spread wide and his arms resting over the back. He laid his head back to see you, smiling as you walked closer. You stared down at the woman who was crouched between his knees, "I can hear you begging from the doorway. It's pathetic."

Her poorly manicured nails slowly pulled off his knees, her wrongly glossed lips parting as she spoke, "Wh-who are you?"

You moved Atsuhsi's hand to show off his ring, "Take a guess. Tell me-Oh, no, don't get up!" You stopped her from moving from her position, "Tell me, how does it feel to beg for a married man?"

She was silent, staring up at you. You were like the boogey man for the girls who worked, as each one had tried to make themselves Atsushi's favorite.

"Good to see you, babe." Atsushi reached up and held your face, "Come just to see me?"

"Mhm, that was the initial goal." You walked around and sat beside him, grabbing the woman's hands and placing them on Atsushi's thighs, "Now, I want to see something."

The woman looked even more scared as you moved her around, "Did you think you would get away with this, sweetheart? I know these girls share stories of me, so there's no way you didn't hear about me."

"I swear, I didn't know the boss was married...I hadn't heard anything..." She was wide eyed, shaking a little. You laughed, "Come now, Atsu, are your girls hazing each other?"

He shrugged, "You know I don't pay that much attention."

You stood quickly, dragging the woman backwards and bending her painfully over the small table behind her. She gasped, eyes going wider if that was even possible. Atsushi had seen you do this before.

Both your faces were only inches apart, your wide smile would haunt her for days, "Does this hurt you? Can you take more?" She shook her head, muttering out a quiet "no" that made you giggle, "Then know that you can't handle what my husband could do to you. Even if you were just sucking cock, he's too brutal for you to stand. So, please, attempt this again. Do it, sweetheart, on the very, very slim chance he cheats on me, I'll know you won't be walking for a few days while I file divorce."

The doubled threat wasn't lost on Atsushi, who quickly moved to drag you into his lap, "Babe, c'mon, this place needs ladies who work." He sounded calm, but you could see the emotion hidden in his movements. Atsushi didn't want you to even mention divorce ever again, let alone after you threatened his employee.

The woman ran away fast when you waved her off, "Atsu, honey, my love. Don't let me find this again. I might just kill the next bitch."

[aphroditeinthesea]

“ hits different ”

leo valdez x daughter of aphrodite 🔨

moving on was always easy for y/n, so why did it hit different when it was a certain son of hepaestus

a/n im alive

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It was always easy for Aphrodite girls. Or at least that’s what everyone thought. Or at least that’s what Y/N thought.

Love always came so easy to her. Boys fell at her feet to ask her out. It was so fun! She would switch them out like Ken dolls. Everyone knew that she had a new guy to obsess over every week before she got bored. The minute she got Aphrodite’s blessing, she had at least one boy from almost every cabin wrapped around her manicured little finger. She had flowers sent from the Demeter cabin nonstop. Whether or not she kissed- or more- the boy, depended on whether or not she liked the flowers. Well, unless he was cute enough.

But strangely enough, one twerpy son of Hephaestus survived the test of time. Her siblings all thought she went insane, or was replaced by an alien clone. She couldn't explain it. How she nearly peed from how much he made her laugh, or the way she felt like she was on a rollercoaster whenever his hand brushed against hers.

She could never forget when he finally asked her out. He showed up to her cabin with a necklace he made.

“You’ve probably gotten better jewelry than this, but-”

He couldn't even finish his sentence before her lips crashed onto his, “it’s the prettiest necklace I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N had never been happier than in the weeks that followed. Everything just finally made sense. She found herself painting her nails his favorite color and reflecting parts of him in how she dressed. Anything for him to get a certain look in his eyes and drag her into his cabin.

And everything was perfect. It wasn't the freedom that she was so accustomed to. It felt like Summer. She was engulfed in the love she felt from the boy, who she believed adored her to no end.

But now it feels like Summer where the Sun burns her heart and the sand hurts her feelings.

As she sat in a ball on her bed, a hat in her hands as she sobbed, she wondered what happened.

It had been over a month since he broke up with her. She just couldn't get over it, which was weird. Moving on was always easy for her to do.

She had put her friends through it during the first few weeks. They would throw parties and sneak out to the city- and each and every time she would get drunk and slur his name until someone shoved her into a car. Even when her friends would fill her ears with “love is a lie” just to get her by.

She stopped receiving invitations.

“I wish I could tell you why that idiot did it,” she heard her sister say.

She looked up at the girl, “I’ve been going through the evidence and it just doesn't make sense,” she muttered.

Piper sat at the end of Y/N’s bed, “I tried to talk to him, but he just won’t say anything about it.”

She rolled her tear stained eyes, throwing the hat onto the floor, “of course he wouldn't.” She sighed, looking at the door, “I’m gonna take a walk.”

“Do you want me to come?”

She shook her head, “I think I just need fresh air.” It was true though, she had barely been leaving her cabin except for mandatory training or meals. She stood up with shaky legs from how much she had sobbed. She slid on a pair of bunny slippers (me core) and walked out the door, luckily not many campers were out to see her mascara stains on her cheeks.

She made her way to the woods, arms crossed. There was a slight breeze from the September air that made her feel slightly better. She heard a crunch of leaves nearby that made her spin and looked around. She didn't see anyone, thank the gods, but she couldn't help but feel uneasy. Maybe they had finally come to take her away.

She continued walking until she collided with a body. She muttered an apology until she looked up at the person. Just to find the last person she should ever apologize to.

“Y/N,” he began, taken aback by seeing the girl he had been so keenly avoiding.

She stared silently at the boy as she waited for him to speak. But nothing came out. Just eyes on eyes waiting for the other to move, but neither did.

She finally decided she had had enough of this and turned around. Finding herself unable to leave as he gripped her arm.

“I’m sorry.”

She took a huff before turning back towards him, “you should be.”

He cringed at her hostility. He knew he deserved it. Before the incident, he was convinced that she had not an ounce of coldness in her. “I know.”

“Do you?” She pulled her arm away from him, “I have been trying to find an answer to why the fuck you would do this to me!”

His fingers slightly burned, “I did it for you, I was worried about you.”

She scowled, “huh? Are you stupid? What?”

He slightly laughed at her rhetoric, “I thought something was going to happen to me and I,” he sighed, “I didn’t want you to have to go through that.”

“Leo,” she began, “you put me through worse.”

He heart stung at the words, “I wanted you to move on and be over me by the time I… if I died.”

“But you’re alive,” she responded, “and I’ve had to watch you… exist. Without me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It's just you left me like.. like,” she paused, “no, I don't need another metaphor, it’s simple enough. You abandoned me.”

He looked down at her words, “I’m so sorry.”

She placed her hands on his neck, pulling him down to her height, “and if you died, I’d be coming right after you,” she smiled.

“Don’t say that.”

She let go of him, “I just want to be with you, Leo,” she mentioned, “and you took that from me.”

“I can’t say I’m sorry enough, baby.” Baby. Gods, she was about to be putty in his hands if he called her that again. Everything he had put her through would be buried six feet under.

He grabbed her hand, noticing the color of her nails. “Hey,”

“Don't say anything.”

“Okay.”

She smiled, “you’ve completely ruined me.”

“Why do you sound so happy about that?”

“I don't know,” she sighed, “I love you.”

He grinned, pulling her closer to him while tracing his fingers up and down her arms, “I love you, I’m sorry.”

And with that, their lips touched. And for the first time in weeks, everything was okay.

[moodymisty]

can I request something happy for Lorgar? maybe reader reaffirming her love for him and he just gets hearteyes and its just cute. if you don't want to do that, just anything positive. pls. ya'll torturing this poor bald man. MERCY LMAO

Author's note: Ignore the fruit/apple symbolism in this tehe ;3

Relationships: Lorgar/GN!Reader (there is one mention of the word dress however)

Warnings: none

Your dress flows as you jump, hand reaching upward towards the sky. Lorgar watches from a balcony not far away, looking down at you.

The fruit is just out of your grasp. You keep jumping to try and smack it, even attempted to climb the tree. In a bit of a cruel way, he finds your struggle amusing. It's so simple, and for a moment he wonders if other men find even the most monotonous things their beloveds do as enthralling as he does.

Serfs pass by and watch curiously as you attempt to pull at the branch, but it's too strong for you to weigh it down. Though not moments later, your savior arrives.

Lorgar doesn't recognize the Word Bearer, merely that they are somewhat fresh to the legion; Their armor is fresh and face somewhat young. The curious marine comes closer and presumably asks what you're doing, his brothers hanging back and watching. You point to the branch and explain your predicament while Lorgar leans against the railing.

The marine to Lorgar’s surprise grasps the branch with his hand and weighs it down, letting you pluck two fruits before letting it snap back upward. You smile and him and he leaves to continue on his duties, and you walk away from the tree.

Lorgar lingers for awhile afterward. He wonders where you're going to enjoy the literal fruits of your labor; Though not all your labor. One of his sons assisted and he is glad they've softened their opinion on you. Especially the younger ones.

"Lorgar!"

Your soft voice pulls him out of his contemplation, and you hold the fruit in your hand. One you've bitten into, the juice on your lips that drips down the corner of your mouth, while the other is untouched.

It’s sinful, dare he say. You indulge so freely and unknowingly.

"I got one for myself but, would you like the other?"

He smlies at you, golden tattoos shining in the evening sun. Yours shine as well- the few on your hand you’ve gotten so far, delicate and beautiful. He never has the words to describe- ethereal, perhaps.

"Of course, but only if you stay with me."

You place the fruit in his hand which becomes dwarfed by his size, and laugh.

"That was my plan, even without the fruit. I just happened to pass by and see the tree was in bloom."

Lorgar takes a bite, enjoying the sweet taste while standing here with you. He takes a knee, reaching his other hand out to grasp your own and brush over the top of it with his thumb. You stop eating and lose your smile.

“You’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

Lorgar nods. You purse your lips and look away for a moment, taking a bite.

“It feels like you only just got back, I’m going to miss you.”

Lorgar eats the last of his fruit, before using that now free hand to cup your jaw and gently turn your face back to him.

“My love, there is no words to describe how much I miss you when I leave you here.”

He leans in, pressing his lips to yours.

Your kiss tastes like fresh fruit, saccharine sweet. Your lips are soft and inviting, and he finds himself pulled in more than a man of his ken should ever be wavered. The gentle moan you make as you press closer, greedily asking for more, Lorgar would oblige if he was a weaker man pulled astray by fruit as sweet as you.

His lips pull away from yours with a soft pop, and he sees that sweet nectar still in the corners of your mouth. You smile and lean into his palm.

“Before you go, can you read to me one last time?” Lorgar smiles, his face warm and inviting.

“Of course.”

[karlachismylife]

Don't You Forget About Me

Since @killerpancakeburger already had the most perfect Soap idea with this prompt, I decided to sit and think: what would be the situation where Soap actually didn't wanna kiss? Mission imposible?

Well, I might've found the solution.

CW: reader is Soap's mother (literally), so (potentially bad) Scottish yelling and scolding, very silly and unserious, not even pretending to be realistic.

(Title fom a song by Simple Minds)

You were going to give him a piece of your mind alright. He had always been a troublemaker, the sole source of white and grey peppered in your respectable hairbun, but the bare minumum you expected from your eejit of a son was to take your words seriously when you asked not to go to that mission. That one mission, mind you, out of every crazy and dangerous endeavour your Johnny got up to since before he could walk properly (although he skipped the phase entirely, immediately opting to run) - you always supported him and tried to be understanding.

You flicked his nose when he came home dirty after playing football in the rain and prepared warm dinner while he cleaned himself and washed his own clothes like a good boy. You sighed and ruffled what was left of his hair the day he returned with that moronic haircut, beaming like the sun itself. You slapped upside his head and scolded him before pulling out his favourite out of the oven after he was kicked out from whatever military base he tried to sneak into to be like his cousin.

Johnny could call you strict, scary and warn all his mates of you with a shit-eating grin all he wanted, but you were sure you had never given him a reason to believe you would worry over nothing.

"Dinnae fash yersel, Mam," was all you got after a hearfelt and arguemented plea to stay away from trouble this time, along with a kiss on a cheek, and there he went.

Not so fast, John MacTavish.

Of course he got his stubborness and determination to get whatever he wanted from you. The amount of times he ran off before he was of age just to try his luck and get enlisted? The clenching of his proud Scottish jaw as he pushed himself to do better, lift heavier, shoot sharper, run faster? Once Johnny was set on something, he went all-in. Too bad sitting still and quiet in school never got to be one of his priorities even for a week. But that's how you raised him, and if anyone could match him, it was you.

You were suprised how easy it was to bully and bribe your way into the base. Just an unthreatening older woman with some home-cooked pie, already sliced up for the sweet, sweet boys at the entrance.

Och, yer Ma' usually bakes these too? 'N' wi' some carrot? Ye should ask her fur a recipe, leannan, Ah will lea' ye mines sae we can exchange. Ah actually hae mah laddie right there oan th' base, he's a sergeant, aye, mah muckle laddie. Ah wanted tae surprise him wi' his fave', bit didnae ken tis sae secreteve 'ere… Mibbie ye could pass it tae him? Och but it'll get cauld 'n' nasty… Och, ye will let me in fur a few minutes? Well aren't ye th' sweetest wee jimmies. Yer Mams must be proud o' ye, Ah ken Ah'm, knowing such mighty lads are protecting us.

Breaching the first line of defence was a piece of cake - well, pie. The second went even smoother, no one paying attention to you as you simply floated along the perimeter, avoiding miscellaneous looks from busy officers and privates bustling about their day. Hiding in plane sight, not even trying to blend in - you minced in your old trusty shoes up to the big area with several aircrafts scattered around.

Aha. That's your goal. You adjusted your purse on your shoulder and moved to continue your way, when someone finally noticed your unwanted presence.

"Is that a... who the hell let a civilian in the landing zone? Oi! M'am! M'am, stop! M'am, you're not supposed to be here!"

Hearing someone's heavy steps picking up behind your back, you kept your steady stride for a few more moments, eyes scanning the vast plane of the zone, determined to find at least someone you knew - and they you hit jackpot. Loud thumping of helicopter blades, distant at first, grew rapidly, almost deafening at the point when someone's heavy hand grabbed your elbow.

"M'am, are you lost? It's dangerous here! DAN-GE-ROUS!" The officer yelled into your ear, probably both hoping to overpower the landing helicopter and thinking you were old, frail and deaf.

Such a naive lad.

That metal bird barely stopped chirping before you wriggled out of the officer's grasp and sprinted towards several tall figures unloading from the helo. Your target stood straight, big headphones denting his ruffled mohawk, already up for a trimming. He definitely heard the officer's loud yelling, turned around, curious as ever, and locked eyes with you - all laughter wiped off his face immediately, baby blues he inherited from you round and popping out of their sockets.

"Mam?! Wha' are ye doin'-" - "JOHN MACTAVISH! Dinnae "mam" me, ye reckless bampot! Ah didnae raise ye tae be a sleekit potatoe waving yer own mother off!"

You jumped away from the officer who almost caught up with you and used your purse to shield yourself from him, never losing pale and positively terrified and dumbfounded Johnny out of sight.

"Get awa' from me, ye eejit, that's mah son 'n' Ah'm talking tae him! Look at me, Johnny!" You finally reached him and tilted your stern face up, glaring at yout sheepish son. His eyes stopped darting around and snapped directly at you. Still a good boy, after all. "Dae ye hae any idea how worried Ah was? Come 'ere now or Ah will drag ye by yer scruff, Ah swear. Come 'ere!"

You reached up to cup hus face, noticing a fresh bruise and a split brow, your motherly heart aching, but still proud that your wee boy came back from a dangerous operation alive. With teary eyes, you tried to pull him in for a big forgiving smooch, but he finally unfroze and pulled back, slowly starting to go red in his cheeks - so his ears must have been burning for some time already. Still, you looked at him, outraged, and huffed, propping one hand on your hip.

"What? Ah wanntae kiss mah laddie!" You could see Johnny's face flush brighter, mortified expression cut into his pleading eyebrows. He shouldn't have been doing that, that nasty scar was bleeding hardeer, your poor wee boy.

"''ere?! Richt naew?!" Before you could even start scolding him for denying his own mother such a simple thing, someone else's rich voice cut in through barely suppressed laughter.

"Come on, Johnny, tha's no way to talk to your mother. Be a good boy 'n' give 'er a big kiss." Recognizing Ghost from your laddie's tales wasn't hard at all - you met his dark, hooded eyes and gave him a firm, grateful nod, which he reciprocated with a gruff chuckle.

Defeated, Johnny leaned down, sliding his headphones down to his neck, and didn't even hiss as you yanked him by his ear lower to give him a loud, loving smooch on his cheek.

On the way out they sourced four big lads to escort you. As if the whole army would be able to stop you if you decided to give your son a proper whooping.

[cindol]

͘ ࣭⸰ ! PAPA TO THE RESCUE ! ͘ ࣭⸰

characters included : ken ryuguji, wakasa imaushi, benkei,shinchiro sano x fem reader

﹒.ᐟ 𐚁 cw— fluff, draken is 27, wakasa,benkei and shin are in early 30s, wakasa is a gym trainer, draken and shinchiro are bike shop owner, boo’s boo’s and ouchies just mean cuts or bruises, shin curses around his kid like once without noticing, all the black dragon men have a funny gag of being afraid of their wife(reader),

synopsis— Tokyo rev men cleaning up bruises and cuts with their baby girls.

a / n : all the men are girl dads because I said so

| KEN RYUGUJI ( aka draken )

immediately to the rescue while he sees his daughter trip over a silver wrench. He’s fixing a tire on his motorcycle but when he sees her go quiet then cry he lets out a quiet “shit shit.” and drops the tire and whatever tool he has to run over and pick her up.”you okay? That was a big fall huh?”

still sulking and crying his daughter nodded.“knee hurts..” he looked down to see her small knee, it wasn’t a big cut just a small slit that needed some care but still a huge deal to the six year old.“well i think daddy will make it all better.”

the small girl had a grimace look on her chubby face.“but mama always helps with my cuts..” having draken clean her boo’s boo’s instead of you would be a weird change but draken would try anyways.

“Well nothing wrong with change right? ‘member what Ms. Winters said?” He reminded her making his little girl hum.“change is good.”

He did a simple nod and sat her down on the stool he was originally sitting on.“now I’m sure I got some bandages around this garage, just sit here.”

Searching through and through he eventually found bandages and turned to her. She still had a worrying look.”

exhaling he walked over getting on his knees and placing a hand on her knee.“I promise I’ll try my best to do it just as mommy does, cross my heart.”

the small child pretended was pondering but hesitantly nodded, with her permission he put the bandage over. He though he was done until she was frowning making him confused.”I miss something?”

she pointed down to the bandage on her knee.”mama always gives me a kiss to make it all better.”

He chuckled, of course there was something extra. He placed a small kiss to her knee looking up with a toothy grin.”that better?” there was now a happy smile on her chubby cheeks.

“Now let’s go to mama, can smell her cooking something up from here.”

| WAKSA IMAUSHI

He isn’t very surprised when he sees his son trip over something once again, he’s use to his little girl being a wild one who likes getting into things and just being unaware of her actions. Still she was a four year old child so he stops when he trips over one of waksa’s weights then cries sitting on the floor. Putting down whatever medium sized weight he was lifting and getting off the couch to pick up his fumbling son.

he picked her up letting out a breath of air just at her snot nosed face and big eyes filled with tears. “what am I gonna do with you kid huh?”

The same lilac eyes he had stared back at him squinting with a wobbling look.“got a ouchy on my leg..”

Looking down at her chubby leg there was a bruise and small cut, nothing major but still needed good care even for his little tomboy.“did you huh?” He scratched his head pausing.“your mama ain’t around? Usually she’s good at this kinda thing kid but she’s doing her grocery shopping.”

“Let’s figure this out ourselves.“That immediately made his tomboy daughter shake her head back and forth profusely when he put her down.“nuh uh! mama usually helps heal my ouchies! You’ll just make ‘em all bad and icky.”

a puzzled look was on wakasa’s face.“bruises and cuts are bad in general, ain’t no way for me to make them more nasty kid.” he paused.“Now cmon, can’t wait for your mom to just get here all day, about time I learned how to do this.”

While the two walked to the kitchen which wasn’t far his tomboy child had a questioning look.“about time? You’re just now doing like bandage stuff?!” she said in a shocked tiny voice

wakasa just waved her off while walking and then stopping when they were now in the kitchen.“relax relax kiddo, your mom’s always bandaged me up when we were young but it’s time for pop’s to learn how to clean himself up and you.”

with his daughter sitting at a table that was slid out from the diner table he searched through the kitchen drawers for the aid kit then slapped it straight on the dining table.“mama might not want nastiness on the table!” she exclaimed but still Wakasa waved it off with a smile.“then how about we keep it a secret? Your mama won’t even know”

she whirred.“promise?”

he nodded.“pinky promise, on my heart.” Hearing his confirmation she shook pinkies with him.”now you gonna let me try to clean this bruise you were having a frenzy over?” she nodded putting her leg out.

you eventually found out wakasa put the aid kit on the clean dining table when coming home from grocery shopping.

| KEIZO ARASHI (aka benkei)

Knew it was coming when he was playing with his daughter in the backyard. He was too over protective over his ten year old but it was bound to happen, she was just too active for her own good but that didn’t stop him from rushing over when she fell.

She was just there on her stomach after tripping on a medium sized rock and tree branch. He kneeled down to her helping her on her feet with obvious concern in his eyes.“you alright there? that was a huge fall.” His eyes were just tracing her face, there was no sign of her needing an emergency but still he worried.

It just made her snicker dusting herself off.“I’m okay daddy, just like some stupid scratches.” Looking down her leg had some reddish bruise, not very obvious and something to worry about but it still needed taking care of to benkei.

a immediate groan came out from his darling daughter when she saw his subtle face expression, they weren’t very expressive but she saw what was going through his mind.“dad I’m not some icky four year old! Whatever bruise I got will heal on its own, I’m strong like you remember?” she joked making benkei huff.

“I’m not no whimp girl, just don’t need your mom tearing me in a new one.” it was funny how even a big man like benkei had some fear over her mother.

With both of them now in the bathroom his daughter sat on top of the seat of the toilet spinning around until benkei found the aid kit and opened it up, next he grabbed a near by clean rag and wet it up and clean it to then put a bandage on.

| SHINCHIRO SANO

Doesn’t overreact but makes a small ‘ooh…’ hissing noise at how his daughter falls over one of the tires he was replacing on his jeep. She went face down right onto the cold floor of his bike shop.

When she doesn’t respond he thinks everything is okay till a soft cry is heard making him drop his cigarette then stomp it out before running over.“ah shit shit, you alright there sweetheart?” she makes a gentle shake of the head that was a no.

when picking her up she had a bit of dirt on her face probably from the tire, well her clean white shirt you put on her before was very dirty actually, he knew he was gonna get quite the mouthful from you over it.

With him kneeling and his daughter standing before him some sniffing was heard from her.“stupid tire got in my way!” Her small foot wanted to kick at it in childish anger making shin scratch his neck at that chuckling a bit.“Ah my bad honey, maybe daddy should watch out just tossing things around here huh?”

The small seven year old nodded with a pout on her lips.“my shirt got all dirty and my face is dirty daddy! Need to find mama so she can clean me up.”

that made shin gulp and pull at the neck part of his shirt. You would most definitely have a few words for him for having your daughter’s fresh clean shirt from the dryer get dirty.“ah no no, I think mama is probably enjoying her nice day at the house without us yeah? I think the two of us can figure this out ourselves.”

the little girl wanted to hesitate but she trusted her papa, even if his style of cleaning might be different from her dad. She gladly took the hand of her father for him to take her to the bike shop’s bathroom to clean her face.

you ended up finding out anyways.

[elexaria]

cw — dubcon, mean ol’ johnny :(

johnny is one jealous son of a bitch. can’t handle it when he sees you talking to any man that isnt him. white knuckled grip on his pint glass when you chat to simon, joking around and laughing. he sees red when your hand gently brushes up against his arm, and gaz clears his throat, his eyes flitting down to the pint glass. “careful, you’re gonna end up shatterin’ that if you don’t calm down.” he says, an eyebrow raised as he watches johnny continue to stare daggers into you.

you’re clearly an idiot, he thinks to himself as he ignores you the next day. hell, he even gives simon the silent treatment. fucker, he shouldn’t entertain your happiness! he knows that johnny’s head over heels for you! whatever, fuck ‘em both. he huffs around base, begrudgingly and sparingly choosing limited words when it comes to drills.

the moping around is ridiculous, absolutely pathetic. simon glares down at johnny in the mess, hands on his hips. “grow up, we were just joking around.” he grumbles out, just audible enough for only johnny to hear— but everyone knows, the tension is fucking palpable and it makes you feel nauseous. all because of one stupid joke? that harmless touch of simon’s arm.

“he’s like the brother i never had, john.” you yell at him when, finally, after what felt like half an hour of banging at his quarters door, johnny lets you in. he grimaces, shaking his head as his eyes spark a dangerous expression. “no, ye just don’t get it, dae ye?” he growls, his fingers rasping against the scruffy brown whiskers around his lips. “yer a fuckin’ bimbo, of course ye don’t fuckin’ see it—“

you feel your heart sink, eyebrows furrowing. he’s such a prick.

“let me tell ye somethin’ about blokes, lass.” he says, pushing himself off of his desk. he’s not the tallest man on base, but his large physique still manages to make you feel small. one hand harshly grips onto your small wrist, the other grasping your chin with a possessive touch. “we’re all the same, ye ken? and i— i fuckin’ get what’s goin’ on in their heads when they look at ye. and i don’t like it.” he growls, his voice dangerously low and gritty as his breath skirts against the shell of your ear. “yer mine, bonnie. whether ye like it or not.”

he’s such a mean bastard.

folding you in half, thighs smushed up against his hairy chest, the backs of your knees propped up over his shoulders. each harsh thrust inside of you, each growl and snarl— he’s reinforcing the notion that you belong to him. body and soul. “fuckin’ say it, lass. tell ‘em yer all mine!” he barks out, his large hand grasping harshly at your pudgy tear-stained cheeks. you comply, voice shakily crying out a weak “‘m all yours, ser— sergeant mactavish—!” as your second orgasm begins to crest.

yeah, they all know it. especially when a calm, relaxed johnny leans back in his seat in the rec room, a shit eating grin on his lips as you sheepishly limp into the doorway, avoiding eye contact with everyone :(

[chaifootsteps]

Same anon who is tired of daddy jokes, and I realized why Ken’s version works. It’s a subversion. Angle makes the “harder daddy” comment and then Sir Pent, completely earnestly goes “*gasp* SON???”

The joke is not actually about the daddy comment—it’s about Sir Pent’s misunderstanding confusing and weirding out even Angel.

The reason Viv and Adam’s daddy jokes don’t land is because…the joke is just the word “daddy” being used in a sexual context. Sorry I’m just. I’m still so annoyed by this and also every time I remember that Ken had to FIGHT for their credit on the Pilot (when they wrote all the best jokes) I get so frustrated I need to vent.

(Also if I got Ken’s pronouns wrong, or the pronouns changed since I last read Ken’s account of Viv, I apologize—last I checked I saw they were still using they/them, but if I’m mistaken please let me know.)

You hit the nail on the head. In Ken's version, the joke wasn't "LOL SEX JOKE, LAUGH," the punchline was Pentious's reaction. But of course Viv not only didn't understand this, she's doubled down by repeating it every five seconds like a two year-old.

(And you're good, Ken's pronouns are they/them!)