#Farting competition

[kipercrow]

The Indestructibles (2006) Fart Contest Scene

[gayofthefae]

Get you a ship who can do both.

Yes, the love is mutual

But so is the "really? him?"

[idiotwhotalkstoomuch]

Anyone who thinks their friends give them bad game advice should know my friend who has beaten Hades multiple told me when I was a brand new player who hadn't even reached Meagara that in a trial of the gods, always spurn Aphrodite, she's the easiest one to fight

Needless to say I died very quickly

[wishiwould]

Do you ever just. Think about that fart scroll

[pyrochickenpollo]

Tumblr I'm begging on my knees please don't sell this site to that musky ass man that acts like 4 year old and gets no bitches

[wandaluvstacos]

This is kinda how I feel when people talk about how terrible it is that all mustangs can't run free in the west. While I won't get into the politics of what number of horses should be in the wild and how bad the BLM's round up methods are, I will say that mustangs are not WILD horses, they are FERAL horses. They are domestic horses, bred over thousands of years to be happiest with people. I watch a lot of "mustang pickup" videos, where the horses are clearly terrified (as they should be, removed from their family groups and thrust into completely strange environments). And this is especially true for reactive, sensitive horses, which may take months before they let you put a halter on them.

But to see these horses a year after they were picked up and trained and bonded with a person... they are completely at ease. They don't have to worry about where their food will come from or if an injury will kill them over several painful months. Mares don't have to deal with stallions impregnating them every year, and stallions are gelded, which means they aren't getting into constant fights with other stallions. They get to live fat and happy on good grass and hay in the winter, with access to fresh water and regular foot care. Mustangs rarely live past 20 in the wild, but in a barn they can get to be 30 or older. And because humans have taught them that most things aren't scary, they don't have to constantly be on alert. There are no cougars to watch out for anymore. They can sleep to their heart's content. They do make some sacrifices in how much they can roam, for sure, but with proper diet and exercise, most horses won't really know the difference.

I often think of this video of Elisa Wallace's mustangs having fun in the snow. Those are some very happy horses, freed from the stress of having to live in the wilderness. They can just be goofballs and love life, and scary things can easily be overcome because they trust their human companions.

I think letting mustangs roam isn't a terrible life for a horse, but I don't think it's inherently better than one where they happily live in tandem with humans.

I think it's a common misconception that domesticating animals is somewhat like enslaving them. It really is more of a symbiotic relationship. No wild animal would have willingly put up with early humans if they didn't get something out of it. Wolves wouldn't have stayed with us and become dogs if they weren't getting food and safety out of it. Many large herbivores that are now domesticated could and would have easily trampled their early human captors or broken their enclosures open if they didn't have a reason to stay. Sometimes individual animals still do if we don't give them what they need.

The animals that have stayed with us for thousands of years have evolved to cooperate with us better. Dogs have additional facial muscles around their eyes that wolves lack in order to mimic human facial expressions. Sheep grow their wool perpetually while their wild counterparts don't because a bigger fleece means they're more likely to be allowed to breed and be kept around. Domestic dairy cows produce much more milk than wild bovine species and domestic hens lay more eggs. Do you know how energy costly producing eggs or milk is for an animal? It's pretty intense! They wouldn't be able to do that if we hadn't given them the food and safety from predators and the elements to.

And we really need to show these animals respect and gratitude for what they give us by taking excellent care of them. They gave up a lot to be with us, often including the means to take care of themselves in the wild. That's a huge reason why I'm not against using animal products, but I hate factory farming. They are still living, breathing creatures with needs and feelings. They deserve a comfortable life and, when the time comes, a humane death.

[blackcatanna]

Me when someone posts an amazing drawing that's coloured, rendered and beautifully presented and then it says "just a quick doodle" underneath

[kipercrow]

Imagine a hospital comedy where the b-plot is 2 male doctors having a bet to see who could fart the most in a day. They send each other videos of them farting.

When they're meeting with patients they obviously hold in their farts but they lean side to side and do their best to not be distracted. This however doesn't stop them from eating gas inducing food during their breaks.

When they get the chance to be together in the same room, they spend the time gassing each other, trying to see who will drive the other out first (they only make their co-worker/friend run out of the room).

By the end of the day, no one wants to be around them because of their farting contest, so they end up carpooling together and just talk about life while farting in the car.

They ultimately end their contest in a tie and have decided that the next time they hold a fart contest they'll do it on their day off.

[gimmigezz]

He-gassen (Japanese: 屁合戦, lit. 'Fart competitions'), or Hōhi-gassen (放屁合戦, lit. 'Fart fight'), are titles given to a Japanese art scroll,[1] created during the Edo period (1603–1868) by an unknown artist or several unknown artists[2][3][4] depicting flatulence humor.

[livlaughlove07]

little self portrait because my jaw line is now 90 degrees 😔

literally after the wisdom tooth removal i turned into a minecraft character.

[mononijikayu]

wife — nanami kento.

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.” You whisper to him. “Let them, honey.” he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. “That’s all they can do.” He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent.  “They should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. I’m a married man, after all.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: romance, marriage, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, p to v sex, toilet sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (baby, honey), possesiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, if your partner isn't nanami kento then don't have him ladies, gents and non-binary friends;

WORD COUNT: 6.6k words.

NOTE: nanami kento won the poll, so here we are!!! its relatively shorter than the current style i have, but i hope you still like it. and yes, i added a spoiler for shoko and geto's sister (since shoko won #2 in the poll, she also gets a fic!!!). they are still together cause god knows they need love and care after all they have been through. anyway, i hope you all enjoy this!!! i love you all and see you in the next one <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

THIS WAS A RARE OPPORTUNITY.  You don’t like going to these high social events at all, not even outside Jujutsu society. You were a homebody, you adored having time to yourself. But you can’t ignore Gojo Satoru’s invitation. Even if you want to.

He’s been so good to your Kento and he’s always making sure that none of the old farts are making his life miserable. So you felt inclined to go. You felt inclined to play a little bit with this world. 

The grand hall of Gojo manor was resplendent, a wash of gold and white with shimmering drapes that caught the light of the crystal chandeliers overhead. Gojo Satoru was not thrilled to host the gathering. But since it was his duty as the Gojo clan head and he had to play nice with all these people — he gave in and threw the party.

Of course, he refused to make it exclusively a sorcerer only gathering. He wanted to ensure that it was open to everyone, even yourself. That in itself breaks tradition. More often than not, it was only sorcerers, especially those in the higher echelons of Jujutsu society, who were allowed to come and enjoy such liberties. 

But of course, Gojo Satoru was not such a man of tradition. He hated it, as much as your Kento. So, of course, to enjoy you and Kento’s company and to spite all these snobs, he made sure to invite you and everyone else.

You find that you’re at least enjoying the building’s architecture. You were a fan of architecture, in all forms and culture. You and your husband Kento shared that passion, more so when you both were in Denmark or when you both were in the countryside. 

Still, Gojo manor was not too bad. You marvel at the intricate carvings on the walls depicting centuries of legendary battles and heroics of history gone by. Each one was a reminder that this was not just a gathering but a showcase of the Jujutsu world's most powerful and influential. 

Sorcerers mingled, their robes embroidered with clan symbols and sigils that spoke of generations of power and prestige. Conversations buzzed with a mix of guarded politeness and subtle rivalry.

The room alive with an undercurrent of competition disguised as small talk. The sound of polite laughter mixed with the clink of glasses filled with aged sake, its delicate aroma weaving through the air like a ghost.

You stood near the buffet table, the scent of delicacies. Gojo Satoru did well with getting everything together for this, especially the food, all high quality — only the best of the Gojo clan head’s tastes. You both think the same in that exquisite taste. 

That certainly is why you were excited to taste everything. From the perfectly grilled yakitori, dainty bowls of ikura don, to the plates piled with fresh sashimi and brilliantly wrapped hamachi. They were all wafting around you. They were all perfect for you.

“I regret wearing this dress.” You tell yourself in a small mumble. “It’s too tight and I forgot Gojo likes good food like me. I thought he would have left it to his goons to decide the food menu…”

You were dressed in an elegant but simple gown, a deep navy blue that skimmed your figure without the drama of glittering embellishments or the boldness of vibrant silks. Compared to the ostentatious displays around you, it felt almost understated, but it was you.

You could hardly care about the fashions of Jujutsu society. You liked your fashion. And your husband did too. That was all that mattered. You adjusted the silver cuff on your wrist, a small but meaningful gift from Nanami, its cool weight reassuring against your skin.

You glanced around, eyes catching a few familiar faces. There was Nitta Akari from administration and management, gesturing animatedly as she spoke with her colleagues, her face flushed with excitement. Mei Mei stood nearby, her icy beauty undiminished by the cool smirk she wore. 

She held court as always, eyes sharp as a hawk’s as she listened, spoke, and effortlessly commanded the attention of everyone within earshot. Hell, there was Usami too — but he was surrounded by those vultures from the conservative factions. 

But most of the women were like the wives of powerful clan leaders. They represented their husbands, who thought it too boring to join the gathering or rather were abandoned by their husbands to do other things. 

Yet they were powerful women in their own right and they wanted you to know it. They wanted for you to see it, so badly. Their outfits elaborate displays of status, from the gold-threaded kimonos to the jewels woven into their hair.  Their makeup was meticulous, brows arched and lips painted in deep shades of crimson or plum. 

Most of them were interesting to gawk at. But you were certain they thought the same about you. Especially those specific women. It was those more haughty women, clan women under the big three who glanced your way with subtle, evaluating eyes.

You could feel their scrutiny as tangibly as the satin ribbons brushing your wrists. A fan fluttered as a woman whispered behind it, her gaze cutting sideways toward you. She looked as haughty and dry as her entire face.

“Do you think she really fits in here?” one murmured, just loud enough for the question to reach your ears.

“I heard she’s not even a sorcerer.” came the response, this time with a touch of incredulity. “Yet they let her come near our children, to teach them about a world they don’t dwell in. Pathetic waste of time!” 

You pretended not to hear, reaching for a skewer of yakitori to busy your hands. But your pulse quickened, not with embarrassment, but with the awareness of the reason behind their thinly veiled curiosity. They must have been Zenin women, perhaps married to the higher ranked men in Zenin Naobito’s circle. You felt bad for them, yet you also hated them. 

But you knew that wasn’t the case for their hatred of you. Not exactly. It wasn’t the fact that you were an outsider, a non-sorcerer working as a window at Jujutsu High, who taught mundane subjects like history and literature to the students. 

Nor was it that the students often liked you better, seeking your lessons as a respite from their harsher training. It was the reason these women whispered behind jeweled fans and exchanged glances tinged with envy: you were the much beloved wife of Nanami Kento, the stalwart, handsome, and sought-after grade one sorcerer.

From across the room, you caught sight of him. He stood among a small circle of colleagues, the sharp lines of his tailored suit a contrast to the flowing robes around him. His expression was as stoic as ever, but there was a small shift when he saw you, a softening in his gaze that no one else would notice. 

To everyone else, he was the unapproachable, severe sorcerer who never let his guard down. But you knew the way his bright eyes would close just slightly when he was tired, the low chuckle he reserved for evenings spent at home, the way his voice lowered when he told you stories of his youth.

“Good evening.” came a familiar voice that broke through your wandering thoughts. You turned to find Ieiri Shoko standing beside you, her expression one of relaxed amusement. 

She was dressed in an elegant black ensemble that perfectly complemented her laid-back demeanor, a glass of sake dangling effortlessly from her fingers. Her sharp eyes glimmered with mischief as she surveyed the room.

“Evening.” You greeted back at her, your lips sharply echoing into a smile. “Why are you alone? Where’s your darling at?”

“Oh, surrounded by those pathetic vultures.” She pointed at the table where she was talking with the Kyoto women, smiling brightly. “Ugh, I hate those freaks. I can’t believe she’s around them. They’re not even worth an ounce of her giggles.”

“Geto–san has to make good with people somehow.” You pointed out to her, humming. “Connections are just connections. But you’re her lover. It’s been some years. Breathe, Sho.”

She rolls her eyes, before smiling. “Yeah, yeah.”

“How have you been?”

“Good, as always.” Shoko retorts back, humming at you. “I just wish I had cigarettes. But she said if I tried to smoke tonight, she wouldn’t let me hit.”

You laugh at her bluntness. “I do the same to Kento too, but with his alcohol. You both have to be kept on a leash.”

 “Oh the things we do for love.” She sighed heavily before looking at the ones glaring at you both. It wasn’t hard to notice those clusters of sorcerer wives eyeing you with thinly veiled intentions. “You’re doing well against their scrutiny, I see.”

“Barely. But I do find myself enjoying it.” you admitted, a small laugh escaping despite the tension. Shoko’s company was always welcome; her nonchalance had a way of making everything seem less dire.

Shoko took a slow sip from her glass, savoring it like she savored every moment. She shifted her gaze to one of the wives, a woman with a crimson kimono embroidered so elaborately it looked more like a tapestry than a garment. The woman was whispering behind her fan, eyes darting toward you and Shoko with a practiced side glance.

“Ah, her again. I thought she wouldn’t be here after she got exposed for her affair.” Shoko said, rolling her eyes with exaggerated flair. She leaned closer, voice low but biting. “Careful, she’s liable to sprain her neck with how much she’s been glaring. I heard last time she tried something that intense, she nearly fainted from holding her breath.”

You stifled a laugh, your shoulders shaking with barely contained mirth. Shoko’s dry humor was like a breath of fresh air, slicing through the tension with an effortless charm. The woman in the crimson kimono noticed your reaction and stiffened, her cheeks blooming with indignation.

“Let them look, let them whisper. Let them be jealous of you.” Shoko said, turning her eyes back to you. Her voice shifted to something more genuine, the mocking edge softening. “They’ll keep wondering because they can’t figure it out. You’re different, and they hate not understanding something. It’s their worst fear.”

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding, the knots in your chest loosening. Shoko’s words were more than just comfort; they were a reminder that your place here wasn’t defined by others’ perceptions but by your own truth and by the fact that Nanami stood beside you, unwavering.

“Thanks, Sho. I appreciate it a lot.” you said, voice steadying.

She gave a small shrug, the kind that said don’t make it a big deal. With another sip of sake, she nodded toward the buffet. “Now, let’s hope they restock the good tempura. If not, someone’s getting cursed tonight, and it won’t be me.”

She winked, then sauntered away, leaving you with a smile and the indelible impression that you weren’t as alone as you sometimes felt. Once she moved to the corner to see about the temperature, you could feel from the corner of your eye.

You saw the clan wives exchanging glances again. Their perfectly painted lips tightened just slightly as Nanami Kento, breaking from his group, made his way toward you, every step a quiet declaration.

“Is it true? She’s the one married to him?” another ignorant one whispered, leaning into a group of women whose gazes darted in your direction.

“Yes, the one with Nanami Kento, the number two of the first grade sorcerers.” another foolish one confirmed, unable to keep the hint of envy out of her voice. 

You turned slightly, pretending not to hear as you picked up a small plate of delicacies. You did not care for what they wanted to say about you. You were more focused on your desire to taste the dishes. The laughter and clinking glasses around you felt muted under the weight of the tension gathering nearby.

The whispers turned to sharp murmurs, punctuated by gasps and scandalized looks. But perhaps that bothered them even more, because they started making more comments.

“Who does she think she is, that no name wanna be?” The foolish one whispered, loud enough for people to hear her. But perhaps she does not realize she was not being discreet. 

The ignorant one scoffs in disbelief, shaking her head. “What a snob! How can Nanami-san be married to her?”

Shoko heard enough of it and turned around almost immediately from the dishes to the ladies. They jumped out of their seats. She rolls her eyes at them. It was as though she was just as annoyed as she was bored with them. 

“Honestly, get over yourselves. You all look like desperate idiots.” she said, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned casually against a marble pillar. Everyone was now looking at them. Aren’t you at least going to have the gall to say it to our face, lady Kawami?”

The woman in the crimson kimono, lady Kawami, known for her sharp tongue and her greedy  ambition gasped, her painted lips parting in shock. Beside her, another woman with intricately styled hair and a pinched expression scowled deeply. 

“How dare you—”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Shoko’s laughter was light and mocking, yet the glint in her eyes held no softness. She tilted her head, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Lady Kawami’s reddening face. “You think Nanami Kento would like an ugly face and a bad attitude like yours? Ha! You wish!”

The crowd that had gathered to eavesdrop was stunned into silence, eyes flicking between the women like spectators at a duel. The foolish one’s face turned a deep shade of red, while the ignorant one sputtered, looking moments away from summoning her husband and causing an uproar. 

“You cannot talk to us like that!” she shrieked, voice pitched high with indignation. “My husband will hear of this!”

“Now, now, lady Kawami, you shouldn’t treat my guests like that.” The familiar, light-hearted voice of Gojo Satoru interrupted the escalating tension. The two women felt their eyes widen. They quickly bow before him. “It’s so disrespectful, don’t you think?”

Heads turned as he approached, dressed in an exquisite black and silver kimono decorated with the Gojo clan crest. Even in traditional wear, he managed to exude a casual, almost irreverent charm. His dark, round glasses perched on his nose added to the effect as he lowered them just slightly, revealing eyes that shimmered with barely concealed amusement.

“Ah, Gojo-sama.” Lady Kawami said, trying to mask her fluster with a demure nod, but the tension in her posture betrayed her. “I didn’t mean any disrespect towards her, but surely you can understand that—”

“Oh, I understand completely, lady Kawami.” Gojo interrupted, a playful grin spreading across his face. He pushed his glasses back up, letting them catch the light so that the rest of the room was reflected in them. “I understand that you’re boring my dear friend Shoko, and frankly, I can’t have that. Her girlfriend wouldn't be so happy, either. And of course, I love my friend’s happiness.”

The subtle ripple of suppressed laughter ran through the more observant bystanders. Lady Kawami’s mouth snapped shut, her eyes narrowing dangerously. It was rare for someone to speak to her like that and get away with it, but this was Gojo Satoru. A man whose reputation as the most powerful sorcerer in the room and quite possibly the world would mean his words carried weight that no amount of social maneuvering could deflect.

Shoko’s smirk widened as she raised her glass in mock toast to Gojo, her eyes gleaming. “Well, look who decided to save the day. Dashing, really, Gojo.”

He winked at her. “Anything to make sure tonight stays interesting.”

The ignorant one, still seething but now cautious, looked between Gojo and Shoko before settling on silence. The power dynamics had shifted too sharply, and she knew better than to push further. No one can go against Gojo Satoru and not face repercussions. No one. And it would have ended up badly for their husbands and their families if they did. 

You exhaled, tension releasing from your shoulders as the spectacle unraveled. A small, knowing smile touched your lips as Kento's eyes found yours from across the room, his expression softening just a fraction, and you knew that you weren’t alone in facing these moments. You were surrounded by friends who would always have your back, in their own unique, if slightly chaotic, ways.

The room’s atmosphere gradually loosened, tension shifting back to its usual simmering undercurrent. Gojo’s playful banter had disarmed the scene, leaving only the embarrassed scowls of lady Kawami and her cohort. Shoko took another sip of her sake, the glint of satisfaction in her eyes clear as she watched the women bristle and disperse.

“Good job not throwing that plate, masterful control.” Shoko said to you, her voice carrying a hint of approval. She nodded at the untouched delicacies in your hand. “Would’ve been a waste of good food.”

You chuckled softly, appreciating her humor. “Shouldn’t you be saying that to yourself, Sho?”

“Well, I mean, that’s true.” 

Gojo laughs. “Shoko would have done worse than that and we both know it.”

“Hm, but I would have you carry my food to my table.”

“Oh? Then people would be surprised, how anyone can force the Gojo clan leader to do anything on a whim.”

Before you could respond, a presence behind you made the small hairs on your neck stand up in recognition. You turned, and there he was—Nanami Kento, striding toward you with the kind of quiet confidence that set him apart from the rest.

He looked ever so handsome, your husband. But when you get him even more up close? It’s a different story. He looked even more like a god when he stood before you this close.  

He took in the scene, eyes flicking over the lingering crowd, Gojo’s smirk, and Shoko’s knowing look. Then his attention settled on you, warm and steady. “I see I missed the entertainment.” he said, his voice deep and even, but with a trace of curiosity.

Gojo lifted a hand in a lazy wave. “Ah, Nanami, you missed Shoko here defending your lovely lady’s honor with an admirable lack of diplomacy.”

Kento’s brows lifted slightly, his gaze darting to Shoko, who shrugged, unbothered. “They deserved it.” she said, as if that were the most obvious fact in the world.

With a quiet exhale, Kento nodded, accepting the unspoken truth that you were protected by bonds deeper than mere duty. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. The small gesture spoke volumes, his touch grounding and reassuring. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes searching yours for any trace of discomfort.

You smiled up at him, your earlier tension melting away entirely under his gaze. “I am now.”

The corners of his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile, subdued as always but unmistakably there. The few remaining onlookers, who had hoped to catch a new drama unfolding, exchanged glances before deciding they had better places to be.

Gojo clapped his hands, shattering the delicate silence that had settled. “Well, now that we’ve cleared the air, what do you say we toast to another evening of society’s finest theatrics?” His grin was as wide as ever, his glasses reflecting the chandelier’s light like a pair of miniature suns.

Nanami shook his head, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at you, then back at Gojo. “You never change, Gojo.” he muttered, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.

“And wouldn’t it be boring if I did?” Gojo countered, raising a brow.

Shoko raised her glass, smirking at Gojo before tipping it toward you and Nanami. “Unwavering loyalty and keeping things interesting!” she said.

You lifted your plate with a grin, and Kento, never one for dramatics, simply inclined his head. But the unspoken promise in his gaze, the silent support he offered, said more than any toast or witty comment ever could. In a hall filled with power, it was that quiet moment, surrounded by friends and the one who held your heart, that resonated most.

Soon enough, Shoko returned to her girlfriend with her plate stacked with food on one hand and the other holding a glass of wine. Her girlfriend, Geto Suguru’s younger sister, was waiting for her at one of the tables by the back.

Of course, Gojo Satoru returned to moving about and greeting everyone, but he seemed to have been halted by lord Kawami, probably trying to get things straight and settled. No one likes losing his favor after all. It was better that everything was smoothed out with him.

The incident however did not stop the women from continuing to look at your husband wantingly. One of the clan leader’s wives, her jeweled fan hiding half her face, whispered something to the woman beside her. They glanced over, eyes narrowing as if they could decipher what spell had ensnared someone like Nanami Kento.

“They’re watching again.” you murmured, feeling a twinge of jealousy and self-consciousness.

You immediately caught the glance of a woman adorned with a striking emerald necklace that glittered every time she turned. Her expression was polished and unreadable, but the pointed way she looked at you sent an old, familiar discomfort crawling up your spine.

Kento’s presence next to you was a calm in the storm, an anchor against the waves of whispers and stares. He tilted his head slightly, just enough that the room’s golden glow cast warm highlights across his sharp features. His eyes, serious and unwavering, met yours.

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.” You whisper to him.

“Let them, honey.” he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. “That’s all they can do.”

He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent. 

“They should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. I’m a married man, after all.”

A silence swept over the nearby crowd, as if Nanami Kento’s words, though spoken softly, carried through the hall like a sudden change in the wind. The clan leaders’ wives, women who could command a room with a flick of their eyes or a whisper laced with intent, shifted uncomfortably. For all their power, their meticulously curated reputations, and the alliances they upheld like prized heirlooms, they had never been the center of such unwavering devotion.

Akari from administration glanced over and offered a subtle nod of approval, a small smile playing on her lips as she resumed her conversation. Mei Mei, sharp-eyed and ever perceptive, caught the moment as well. She raised her glass, her smirk deepening as though to say, well played.

The subtle tension that once swirled around the room, woven through glances and whispers, began to dissipate. Some turned their attention back to their conversations, laughter resuming, but not without the occasional glance in your direction, this time tinged more with begrudging respect than judgment.

“Kento, baby.” you said softly, a small smile breaking through as your heart settled back into its natural rhythm. The weight of self-consciousness fell away, replaced by a warm sense of belonging that his presence always seemed to ignite.

“Hmm?” he replied, his gaze still watching you with an intensity that was rare for him, except when you were alone.

“Thank you, baby.” you whispered, squeezing his hand back.

His eyes softened, the smallest, barely-there curve of his lips showing just the hint of a smile meant only for you. “There’s nothing to thank me for, honey.” he replied, tilting his head as if to read your thoughts. “It’s simply the truth.”

══════════════════

IT HAPPENED AS QUICKLY AS ONE COULD BLINK. But you suppose you can’t help it. Your desire for pleasure was fast when it came to Nanami Kento. Much more so when you’re jealous. BUt you knew your husband liked that. More than he likes to admit to you.

You felt a delicious rush of power as you yanked him closer by his tie, leading him out of the crowded hall. Away from the watchful eyes and mingling strangers, it was just the two of you in the quiet, dim hallway, with only your quickened breaths filling the silence.

The door closed behind you, and before you could say another word, his hands were on you, strong and possessive, pressing you back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. His fingers traced over your hips and along your waist, leaving a tingling heat in their wake.

It was as if he was memorizing every inch of you all over again. You looked up at him, catching his gaze; his eyes were heavy with desire, and the way he looked at you made your knees feel weak. He was entirely yours in that moment, and you were entirely his.

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth beneath his shirt, his heartbeat echoing your own. His mouth was on yours again, the kiss deep and ravenous, filling the space with the sounds of quickened breath and desperate touches. The world beyond the bathroom faded, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other.

When he pulled back to look at you, you could barely catch your breath. His hand found the curve of your neck, fingers tracing gently along your jawline, and your own hands gripped his shoulders, grounding you as your pulse raced.

“You’re so good….” you managed to whisper breathlessly, your voice trembling as you tried to form words. "Kento….." you murmured, the words spilling out between gasps, each syllable almost a sigh as you clung to him. 

The intensity of his gaze made you shiver, your own desire reflected in his eyes. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and you felt a thrill ripple through you as he whispered your name. His breath felt hot, so tenderly warm against your skin. And even more so when he said your name in that breathy way. That made you feel even more excitement.

For a moment, you both paused, catching your breath as the heat of the moment washed over you. His fingers brushed along your cheek, his thumb tracing the corner of your mouth, as though savoring this quiet, charged moment before pulling you back in with the same raw, electric passion.

And in that hidden space, the two of you lost yourselves, caught in the perfect, unbreakable intimacy that felt like a world away from the bustling party. If you both had your way, both of you would have been locked away from the world. All you needed was each other.

His hands explored with a possessive tenderness, each touch leaving trails of fire across your skin. You let out a shaky breath, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pressed his lips along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You shivered, feeling him smile against your skin, clearly pleased at the effect he was having on you.

You pulled him even closer, fingers moving from his shirt to his tie, loosening it slightly, just enough to slide it off his neck. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his eyes fixed on you with a focused intensity that made you feel as though you were the only person in the world.

"Can’t believe you dragged me out here, honey." he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his words sending a thrill through you. "But I’d follow you anywhere. I’ll make love to you anywhere you want me to."

His words made your heart race, and you felt the butterflies from earlier stirring again as he leaned in, his mouth meeting yours with a new urgency. It was as if all the tension from the night poured into that kiss, building into something raw and unstoppable.

As he pulled you closer, his fingers gently brushed your hair back from your face, and you caught his gaze, breathless. You couldn’t help the small, breathless laugh that escaped as you looked at him, both of you a little dizzy, a little wild.

“This is dangerous, you know, baby.” you whispered, a playful smirk dancing on your lips as you tightened your hold on him. But he only raised an eyebrow, his own grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Good.” he replied, his voice a low murmur. "Wouldn’t have it any other way."

Soon enough, you were under his thumb. His movements grew rougher, each thrust deep and unrelenting, sending a surge of sensation through you that bordered on overwhelming. Every press of his body against yours was a heady mixture of strength and passion. 

And it was all you could do to cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as the intensity built. His pace quickened, and you felt your back arch instinctively, unable to control the way your body responded to him.

Your breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps, each one catching in your throat as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, his touch both possessive and tender. Your senses blurred; the world narrowed down to the feel of him, the heat between you, the way he whispered your name against your skin in a voice that was both rough and reverent.

Every movement, every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, each one pushing you further until you were lost in the sheer intensity of it all. You gripped him tightly, almost desperately, as though grounding yourself against the delicious onslaught. 

His name left your lips in broken gasps, and as you met his gaze, the shared passion and vulnerability in his eyes were enough to undo you completely. Everything about your husband makes you feel alive. Especially at this moment. He was good at making you cry for life.

In that moment, you felt yourself surrender, giving in fully to the dizzying rush, to him, and to the warmth and bliss that consumed you both. You shifted slightly beneath him, the heat of your body still trapped in the shared intimacy of the moment. The words escaped you before you could stop them, your jealousy bubbling to the surface. 

"I saw the way they were looking at you tonight, baby." you whispered, your voice a blend of frustration and desire, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly. "All those women... They were ogling you, making eyes at you, and I couldn’t—"

His breath hitched at the raw honesty in your voice. His eyes darkened, a flicker of something primal flashing across his face. Without breaking his rhythm, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, "Don’t you dare think about them. You're the only one I want. I only want my wife. My little precious wife."

His words were a balm, but the way his body moved, the deep, relentless thrusts, were what truly silenced your insecurities. The force of each movement was almost punishing, his hips driving into you harder, making your head spin with pleasure. His hands gripped your hips, steadying you as he picked up speed, his breath ragged against your skin.

"You think I want them?" he asked, his voice a dark, velvety rasp. "No. It's you, only you. Always been you." His words came out in desperate gasps, the intensity of his thrusts growing, pushing you both to the edge. "You’re mine. No one else matters."

You moaned, feeling a thrill surge through your chest, his raw claim igniting something deeper within you. His pace never faltered, and as he rams into you harder.

Each movement seems to strip away the last remnants of your doubts. Your body responded, the tension in you winding tighter, tighter, until you were sure you'd break. You could barely speak, your voice hitching as you met his powerful thrusts with a soft whimper, your body rocking with the force of him.

"I’m jealous, baby. I always am." you admitted, your hands tracing down his chest, grasping at him desperately, the words slipping between gasps. "But you're mine too. Only mine."

"Always have been, honey. Only yours." he replied, his hands pressing you harder into the cold tile as he moved faster, pushing you further toward the edge with each heated thrust. 

His voice was a low growl, his rhythm unrelenting, and you could feel him losing himself as much as you were, both of you consumed by the need, the overwhelming desire to claim and be claimed.

The moment his lips crashed into yours, everything else seemed to melt away. The overwhelming intensity of the kiss mirrored the urgency of his movements, his body pressing deeper into yours, each thrust sending waves of heat through you. The kiss was possessive, his tongue claiming yours with the same hunger that burned between you both.

As he pushed deeper, his rhythm becoming relentless, you felt a broken cry escape from you, a mixture of pleasure and raw emotion that you couldn’t hold back. His eyes, dark with desire, caught yours, and for a moment, you saw something deeper than just lust—something primal and protective, something that made your heart race in a way you couldn’t explain.

"You’re so fucking beautiful, honey." he whispered against your lips, his voice rough with the same need he’d been building in both of you. “My wife is so fucking beautiful.” 

His hands moved to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he thrust deeper, pushing you to the brink, your cries turning into soft whimpers as your body was caught in the storm of sensation. It felt so good, it always has been.

The deeper he is, the deeper the pleasure fills you. The more you cry out and moan. The more he tries to defy the possibilities, thrusting deeper to fill you more and more.

The tears that pricked the corners of your eyes weren't from pain—no, it was something more complex, something that left you breathless. It was the weight of the connection, the force of his touch, and the emotional release that you hadn’t expected.

All combined into something that made your chest tighten with overwhelming feeling. You cried because he was inside you in every way, not just physically but emotionally, each thrust deeper, each kiss harder.

Kento pulled away slightly, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek, his breath hot against your face. His eyes softened for a moment, but the hunger in them never dulled. 

"You’re mine, only mine, wife." he breathed, his voice low but full of meaning, before kissing you again, harder this time, as though proving to you what he’d just spoken.

The kiss deepened as he pulled you even closer, his body pressing against yours with a fervor that made your entire being hum with raw need. You could feel every inch of him, every movement of his muscles, and it was as if the world had disappeared entirely, leaving just the two of you tangled in this electric, consuming moment.

His thrusts became more forceful, each one driving deeper, pushing you to the edge of something wild and uncontrollable. Your nails dug into his back, clinging to him for support as his mouth moved from yours, trailing down your neck, biting and sucking as he marked you, claiming you completely.

"Don't hold back, honey." he murmured against your skin, his breath ragged. "Let go for me. I need you to feel this... all of it."

You couldn't hold back, not anymore. Not even if anyone was to hear outside. You didn’t feel bad about being this loud because it was your pleasure. About the pleasure he was giving you. He was making you feel good and you wanted him to know it. 

“Good baby, my good little wife. Take me. Take me whole.”

His words hit something deep inside, and you cried out, your voice a broken whisper as your body surrendered fully to him, to the pleasure, to the overwhelming emotions that swirled inside you. His name escaped your lips in a desperate, breathless moan, and the sound seemed to spur him on, his pace quickening as he met you with relentless urgency.

Each thrust pushed you further into a frenzy of sensation, and the pleasure that had once been distant now consumed you completely. The tears that had been building in your eyes spilled over, not from pain, but from the intensity, from the way his body moved with yours in perfect rhythm, from the way he made you feel so utterly seen, so completely his.

Kento’s hand moved to your face, his thumb gently swiping at the tears on your cheek, a tender touch amidst the feverish passion. His eyes softened for just a moment, but then they hardened with desire as he kissed you again, his tongue tasting your lips, your moans swallowed by the deep kiss.

"You're everything to me, honey." he growled, his voice barely audible between breaths. "And I’ll make sure you never forget that."

His words, the way his body pressed into yours, the way his hands held you so firmly. It all built up to something so deep, so visceral that you couldn’t tell where your body ended and his began. Everything inside you snapped, the waves of pleasure crashing over you in a rush, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms. 

Your cries were mingled with his own as he lost himself in the moment, the sound of skin against skin filling the small space as you both gave in to the release, the powerful culmination of everything that had been building between you.

As the waves of pleasure slowly subsided, leaving both of you breathless and spent, the quiet hum of the room returned, only now it felt like a distant memory compared to the electric tension between you. You both lingered in the aftermath, bodies still pressed together, hearts racing in sync. 

Your breath was ragged, your fingers tracing the sweat-slick skin of his back, grounding yourself in the sensation of him still so close. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of your clothes and the echo of your breaths.

But just as you began to collect yourself, a sound broke the stillness—a soft thud of footsteps, followed by the faint murmur of voices. Your heart skipped a beat as the realization hit. Your boldness had gotten inflated by sanity. 

You both hadn’t noticed the soft creak of the door, hadn’t heard the hushed conversations approaching. And then, before either of you could react, the door was pushed open, revealing the clan wives, standing in the doorway, eyes wide with shock, mouths agape.

Kento’s gaze flickered to the doorway, but when he saw the surprised looks on their faces, he didn’t flinch, didn’t move away. He stayed right where he was, his hands still possessively on you, his lips curled into a confident, unbothered smirk. He looks at you, mesmerized by you. By his want for you. Nothing else mattered. Decency, rules, proportionality — they’re done when he makes love to you.

Yet when you looked at him. Nothing else mattered. You too also didn’t care now. A sense of defiance rose within you, the fire from before still burning strong. Without a second thought, you pulled Kento closer, your hands grasping his face as you tilted your head up to meet his lips. The kiss was fierce and unapologetic, claiming him fully in front of everyone who dared to look.

You pulled away slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, your voice low but steady, a possessive edge coloring your words. "You're only mine, hm? Forever, baby." you whispered, your fingers gently tracing his jawline as you met his smirk.

His gaze softened for a moment, his lips curling into a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "Always, honey." he replied, his voice a low rumble that held all the certainty in the world. “Forever.”

The clan wives stood frozen once again, caught between disbelief and curiosity, but neither of you acknowledged them again. You didn’t need to. Kento's words, and the way he held you, told them everything they needed to know.

You were his, and he was yours.

Forever.

[zorosangell]

Heyyy❤️❤️❤️ . Idk if ur busy w anything but could I maybe request a cute little boy challenging zoro for the reader in a dumb competition and zoro takes it seriously (bc thats just him) or whatever else you would like . Ive binged all your work and its safe to say ur probably one of the best writers on the app. Thank youu<33

⛥ﾟ・。 daises and posies

synopsis: a kid with the hots for you begins to challenge zoro, insulting his pride as a swordsman and capabilities as a partner until the mosshead finally snaps... leaving you as the only thing standing between all-out war

cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, zoro would totally have beef with a child, reader's a sweetheart, the kid is a little fart but lowkey kind of adorable

"Zoro, stop!" you exclaimed, eyes wide and frantic as you helplessly tried to hold him back, your feet dragging against the ground at his sheer strength. "He didn't mean it! He's just a kid!"

"Kid, my ass!" Zoro scoffed, brows cinched in a sharp scowl as he began to draw his sword, lunging forward. "He's about to get a grown beating!"

"Says the guy that got his butt kicked by Mihawk!"

"WHY YOU—!"

"ZORO!"

"I was there!" the young boy taunted, standing just out of Kitetsu's reach with a shit-eating smirk. "I was on the Baratie when you got your butt handed to you."

Enamored, his gaze shifted to you, hearts practically forming in his irises as he let out a dreamy sigh.

"It was the day I saw this heavenly angel for the first time..."

Confused—and slightly uncomfortable—you let out an awkward chuckle, still maintaining your hold on your furious boyfriend.

"Kid, weren't you, like, seven?"

"And three quarters."

Your brows flattened.

'Gods...'

"But I knew that you were my dream girl! You looked so pretty! Your hair was blowing in the wind, and your dress was a pretty blue!"

The boy's gaze slowly shifted to Zoro, expression turning sour.

"But this bozo was too busy losing to notice..."

"BOZO?!"

"Zoro!"

"I don't give a crap how old the kid is! He's pickin' a fight with me!"

While perusing the marketplace with your swordsman, you came across a fruit stall, where a rather oddly-mannered boy ran the register.

He instantly recognized you—though you could not do the same—and began flying off the handle with pick-up lines and and flirtations, hoping to woo you into a dinner date.

Flattered, you gave him thanks, but also politely declined.

You explained that your boyfriend didn't particularly enjoy sharing, and the mosshead introduced himself in his usual gruff way.

But the moment the boy realized Zoro was your boyfriend, things instantly went left.

He began a long-winded tirade about how Zoro was weak, and nowhere near strong enough to provide the protection an "angel" like you required.

Safe to say... that did not go over well with the swordsman.

"Since you got such a problem with me, kid, then how about we settle this right here! Steel on steel!"

"Sounds good to me!" the boy agreed, brows furrowed as he drew a wooden sword. "Try not to shatter yours this time!"

Zoro's eye twitched, a rather scary looking smile cracking across his face as he drew Enma.

"Ohhh, I am gonna put you in the ground."

"Zoro!" you hissed, snatching away the glowing, purple weapon and shoving it back in its sheath. "His weapon is a toy! You are not using haki to fight a child!"

"He started it!"

"And I'm finishing it! This whole entire thing is ridiculous!"

Stepping forward, you crouched down to the boy's level, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"As flattered as I am that you're willing to take on a billion-berry man for me, I'm afraid this isn't going to work out," you started, pointing between the both of you. "I'm not into younger guys, and as much as I hate to admit it, I kind of enjoy looking at my boyfriend's face."

A cocky grin rose to Zoro's lips, but you were quick to furrow your brow.

You hadn't forgotten what he tried to do a few second ago, and he would be dealt with next.

"So, it is with a heavy heart that I send you on your way..." you smirked, grabbing the boy's shoulders and turning him to face the spice stall. "...and toward the girl that has been staring at you all day."

A flush bloomed across his face as he met the gaze of a young girl behind the register, her large, brown eyes widening as she realized she had been caught.

"R-really?" the boy stumbled, suddenly incredibly nervous.

"Mhmm," you nodded, encouragingly. "And if you're half as romantic with her as you were with me, you'll sweep her off her feet in no time."

Glancing down at the ground, you snatched up a few wildflowers, carefully placing them in his open palm before pressing it closed.

"Just be yourself. And the rest will come naturally."

A glimmer of excitement sparkled in his eyes at the sight of the daises and posies, his mouth breaking out in an adorable, toothless grin.

"You're right! Thanks a bunch, lady!"

Quickly, he threw his arms around your neck, pulling you into a tight hug before letting go and making a beeline for the spice stall.

"Hey, girl! Did it hurt?! When you fell?!"

"Me?! What are you talking about?! Fell from where?!"

"Heaven!"

At the cheesy line, you let out a warm chuckle, unable to fight the smile rising to your lips.

'That kid's goin' places...'

"Tch. Kid's a menance," Zoro glared, crossing his arms over his chest. "Let's head to the Sunny before he comes back."

"Oh, don't think you're out of the dog house," you scoffed, grabbing his ear as you began the trek back to the ship. "I'm not over the fact that you were about to fight a nine year-old with a haki-imbued sword."

"Ow! Shit! (y/n)! That fuckin' hurts!"

"Serves you right! You're lucky I love you or I'd kick you into next week!"

[bunkerjking]

He's lost the monthly fart competition too many times

[onepieceisreeeeaaalll]

Hiiiii so I was mayhaps wondering if I could get a Sanji x reader, (fem mayhaps) and when Sanji flirts reader flirts back just as much and they fluster poor Sanji :3

FLIRTING COMPETITION - Sanji x Fem!Reader

Hiiiii!! Omg I loved this request, I tried my best to write a cute little blurb. I hope it’s satisfactory! This is actually the first request I’ve ever gotten and I’m not gonna lie I giggled like an idiot hehe.

CW: SFW, Blood mention (nose bleed), anime Sanji antics, flirty remarks but nothing past pg

~1.3k

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

A new woman on board the Sunny is cause for celebration for no less than five of the Straw Hats. Nami and Robin were elated that there's finally someone else to connect with, to break up the monotony of the otherwise male-dominated crew. Not that they minded, but eventually you can only take so much locker room smell and fart jokes. Chopper was also excited, having another person to dote on him (not that some of the men aboard didn’t also do it in their own ways.) Luffy was excited, but of course it had nothing to do with you being a woman and everything to do with having another member of the crew who he invariably adored. Another crewmate, another nakama.

Nobody is more excited than Sanji, though.

At first, it's a little weird. You notice how Sanji dotes on and tends to the women in the crew. Extra treats, googly eyes, nose bleeds. He'd roll out the red carpet if he had one, release confetti if there were any aboard. The little comments didn't really get to you, and it seemed that Nami and Robin are already used to them. So, the flirtatious remarks from Sanji weren't really given any weight, and certainly not any attention. At least, not at first.

It started small. Well, from you at least - for Sanji’s part, the flirting was as obnoxious as ever. You’d offer him a warm smile here, a chaste laugh there. Anything to show your gratitude for the extra attention, though the flirting was certainly becoming an issue. You couldn’t quite decide what was bothering you about it so much. Maybe it was the fact that it was relentless and constant. There wasn't a single meal that went by without it, and it'd be an off day if Sanji didn't openly ogle and flirt. Or that it didn’t actually bother you at all - rather, it bothered you that it was indiscriminate, not just meant for you. It was shared among all three of you women aboard. Yes, maybe that was the issue. The comments have been wearing you down, and something deep inside was feeling something that maybe wasn’t very smart to be feeling, especially when dealing with an insatiable casanova like Sanji. Though, could he really be called that? You’re certain the boy reeked of virginity.

So, Sanji is a flirt. That much is obvious. And there were plenty of times where it left you flustered or flushed or even unsure of what to say. Well, two can play at that game.

As the sun shines over the table where you’re sat on the deck, with the smell of lunch wafting heavily in the air, you’re suddenly consumed with the idea of getting him back today.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

“Here you go, gorgeous! A special pâté served on seaweed with garlic, all plated with care for a beautiful lady such as yourself.”

You pick up your fork, finding the attention to detail he gives just a little funny. It's cute, anyway. You scoop a piece of the pâté from the seaweed, just to taste - the savory flavor is obvious, with some kind of roasted quality that forces a hum from your throat. You grin up at Sanji, your eyes flickering over his face with great interest.

“My compliments to the chef.” You respond, your tone a touch playful.

Sanji beams, and you swear you hear him giggle? For a man so confident in his craft, he can be a real dork when receiving compliments from women. This is going to be fun.

“Aw, I'm so glad you like it! There's plenty more where that came from for someone as beautiful and sweet as you! Oh - did you do something with your hair? The sunlight is catching it just right today, and-”

He's babbling, and definitely going overboard on the doting.

“Oh, brother…” Nami mumbles from her seat next to you, and you can hear Zoro scoffing from the railing nearby where he’s supposed to be taking a nap.

Everyone is just a little too aware of Sanji's actions, and even Robin suppresses a small chuckle. You shrug it off, though, giving Sanji a warm smile.

“We're very lucky to have you aboard as chef, huh? It's always dinner and a show.” You laugh, leaning your chin on your palm as you observe him. “With a great view, too. You ever think about getting into performing?”

Sanji stiffens, a hand moving to the back of his neck as the tips of his ears turn red. You can tell by his expression that he’s clearly caught off-guard, and probably just thinking you’re being extra friendly. It’s still clear the effects your comments are having on him.

“Well, of course not. I'm just a cook.” He laughs awkwardly, his tone still overly excited as he avoids your eyes. “Why d'ya ask, princess?”

You stifle a giggle at the way he seems to get a little less confident.

“Oh, nothing. I'd just pay to see someone as handsome as you every night.” You reply simply, your smile widening into a grin.

“Seriously?” Nami mumbles from across the table, but you ignore it. Her annoyance at the scene isn't your problem.

Sanji doesn't grin, though. He freezes worse than before. You can see his curly brow twitching, and his mouth opens to speak. Nothing comes out, though, so it promptly shuts. The blush on his ears has slowly spread across his cheeks, and it brings out the color of his eyes in a way you haven’t noticed before.

You can't stifle the giggle this time. It rolls out, and Sanji clears his throat in an attempt to recover his demeanor. Even the giggle seems to have made his heart leap.

“W-Well, thank you, I'll-”

“And your hair looks better than mine today. Honestly, I'd love to run my fingers through it. You don't mind, do you?”

You reach a hand out to Sanji's sleeve, tugging on it gently to pull him closer. He doesn't move. Instead, he pulls his arm away, bringing it towards his face, which he turns the other direction. He’s covering the lower part of his face with his sleeve. What the hell? There were a lot of reactions you were expecting from Sanji, but that was not one of them.

”What’s wrong, Prince Chef? Can’t take what you dish out?” You tease.

”E-Excuse me!”

You watch Sanji stalk off, and you notice when he brings down his sleeve from his face that the once pristine-white fold over his coat is now red with what appears to be blood stains. Ah, so that’s what it was. You giggle to yourself, picking up your fork again and scooping some of the pâté. Damn, it really is good.

”Wow. I’ve never seen Sanji freeze up like that.” Nami says, and you can’t help but laugh a little louder.

“Just giving him a taste of his own medicine. Or, a taste of his own pâté.” You reply with a proud grin, leaning back in your seat. You take a bite, and the sound of Robin’s soft chuckle from across the table grabs your attention.

”You’d better be careful,” Robin chimes in, a soft smile on her lips. “You’re going to break his heart if you keep flirting with him like that.”

”Yeah, let her. Serves the idiot cook right for chasing everything in a skirt.” Zoro adds, not bothering to open his eye.

“Oh, come on. He can handle a little flirting. He’ll be alright.” You giggle, taking a bite from your fork.

Though the taste reminds you of Sanji, and how cute his blush was when you complimented his cooking. It was even cuter when you complimented his appearance. Just the thought of getting to see that look again stirs something in your chest that’s hard to pinpoint, but it grows as you fork another bite. Maybe, just maybe, the condition of Sanji’s heart in relation to you is something you’ll need to keep in mind.

[docjayfeather]

All of the Ren Lore i’ve compiled from his single player series and old streams

Favorite meal is roast lamb and roast potatoes

Has an ex-girlfriend

Hates One Direction

Was on a boating team in high school

His mother’s first cat’s name was Ebony

His single player world started in 1.2

Ren’s favorite language is Spanish

Ren has been to Spain several times

His brother had a dog named Rorschach

Ren’s favorite armor set in the original Diablo was the Moon set

Ren and his brother used to have to shower/bath together, then dry off infront of an electric fireplace. Through a series of events, young Ren got his butt stuck to the glass pane of the electric fireplace, and has had a scar on his butt since.

Ren has said “I always think about [Ren’s brother’s username] when I think about my butt”

Ren knows how to do a cats cradle

Ren used to have frosted tips

Ren’s favorite commander deck is Kraum/Tymna

Ren got kicked in the literal butthole by a horse

Ren likes burning things

Ren created a rigged marble slot machine in high school

Went on an introspection journey, visiting all the places he lived and all his jobs pre-YouTube

Did the insane thing of asking the lady who was now living in his first house if he could go inside and check out his old room

Ren had a patreon tier where he’d sent his patrons a “Ren Crate”, a lootcrate full of stuff

Ren doesn’t drink (anymore)

Officially has OCD

Ren loves apple juice

Ren loves driving games

Event manager for The Deftones once

Plays MtG on Sundays

Ren wants to retire with Doc

Ren’s wants his spirit animal to be a shark

Ren’s favorite book series is LotR

Ren is “below-average hairy”

Ren’s favorite season is Autumn

Ren’s birthday is October 11th

Ren is a slut for tiramisu and ice cream

Ren wants to open an LGS/tabletop cafe

Ren is not a religious person

Ren worked in a seedy pool bar

Ren almost got an upper back tattoo

Ren loves green tea

Ren is Left Handed

Ren was at one point a vegetarian for several years

Ren has lost his wallet multiple times, once leaving it on a train

Ren eats a whole lemon every day, and drinks lemon juice straight from the lemon

Ren got in trouble at boarding school for “trying to summon demons”. He was just playing MtG.

Ren has had a pair of lucky underwear since he was 18

Ren’s favorite ice cream is strawberry

Ren loved getting aggressively physical in rugby

Ren loves cinnamon buns

Ren used to have super long butt-length hair

Ren really liked playing with fireworks when he was younger. They’d bury huge ones in the sand near their house to make craters.

Ren loves Love Island

Ren can only sleep on his arm

Wears exclusively Star Wars socks and has matching pajamas

Beat Gabriel Nasif in a Magic Grand Prix

Ren hates Oysters

Ren’s favorite dog breed is a chihuahua??

Ren’s favorite dnd class is bard

Ren enjoys cleaning the bathroom the most out of any room

Ren’s favorite musical is Les Miserables

Ren has a favorite kitchen knife, and used to cook a lot.

Ren’s favorite tool is the hoe (of course)

Ren and Iskall used to play League

Never farts irl

born in the same city as J R R Tolkien

Ren named his first car Maximus

Ren is a bath person

Natural Mace Race runner

Ren really likes pet rats

Ren has a very consistent shopping day of tuesday

Ren has an extremely strict sleep schedule

Ren has 7 pairs of the same pajamas to wear 24/7

Ren has a BA in English

Ren does 100 push-ups a day

Ren does a 15k bike ride every day

Ren had a max weight of 110 kilos, is now down to 80

Ren uses youtube in light mode

Ren has seen Metallica live

Ren wore fake glasses in college

Ren has 20/20 vision

Ren has been in plays during school, and blinded the lead with glitter accidentally during one of them, trying to spice up his one line.

Ren has a “black book” of atleast 9 board game ideas

Ren gets pretty motion sick

Ren enjoys mosh pits

Ren really likes competitive monopoly and risk

Ren burned his eyebrows off with a bunson burner once

Ren still cries at The Lion King

Ren plays Ornn, Urgot, and Tristana in League

Ren was allegedly born in 1982

Ren drunk-puked into his shirt in a german taxi the night he met Doc infront of the people sponsoring them

Ren drives stick shift and loves it

Ren thinks he might have a gluten allergy

Ren puts butter in his coffee

Ren tried to write a YA fantasy novel, got 80k words in before scrapping it

Ren would like to live with Keralis hypothetically out of any of the hermits

Ren’s favorite superhero is wolverine

Ren has tinnitus 

Ren convinced Cleo to start streaming, partially leading to her going full time 

Ren once barbecued on radio in the studio 

Ren stayed on his ex-girlfriend’s floor for the first six months of him moving to england

Ren got kicked in the balls trying to sell tickets to musicals in Leicester Square 

Ren loves playing golf and tennis 

Ren hates soccer

Ren loves queues, maybe ironically maybe unironically

Ren drinks four cups of tea a day 

Ren’s favorite season is 3rd life

[itneverendshere]

baby autumn loooobes her uncle jj. thinks he’s the funniest person alive, and rafe is so jealous

uncle jj vs dada prompt

Today, it starts with a childish fart noise.

One obnoxiously loud, undeniably juvenile fart noise made with the palm of JJ’s hand against his mouth, and suddenly Autumn is screeching with laughter in the middle of the living room, witnessing the peak of stand-up comedy.

You’re bent over folding laundry on the couch, half-listening, until you glance over and see her practically convulsing in her bouncer—tiny fists in the air, drool on her chin, blue eyes crinkled in delight.

You swear she snorts.

JJ does it again, louder this time and she completely loses her mind. Meanwhile, Rafe is seething across the room.

“She thinks he’s hilarious,” you tease, smirking.

“She has no standards,” He mutters, arms crossed, watching his six-month-old daughter howl like JJ’s the second coming of Jim Carrey.

The blonde sends him a smug look as he scoops Autumn up, balancing her easily in one arm while bouncing her, still making sound effects with his mouth.

“Say it with me, baby girl,” he coos, kissing her chubby cheek. “Uncle JJ’s the funniest person alive.”

“Don’t gas her up,” Rafe snaps. “She’s impressionable.”

“She has taste,” JJ shoots back. “Sorry not sorry.”

“She’s a baby.”

“She has instincts.”

You shake your head, amused at the pout on his lips. It always goes like this. JJ and Rafe, acting like frat boys fighting over who gets picked first—only now it’s over a baby who eats her own socks and thinks peekaboo is a full-length feature film.

JJ still looks up to Rafe, even if he hides it in sarcasm and endless shit-talking. Rafe pretends JJ’s a nuisance, but he’s the one who always makes sure there’s extra food when he shows up unannounced.

He’s the one who slipped cash in JJ’s glove box the winter his truck almost died and stopped asking questions when the kid was seventeen crashing on your couch for the third night in a row.

You have the softest spot for JJ that’s carved out of shared history and hard-won freedom. So when Autumn lights up for him like that—like he hung the moon—you don’t get jealous.

But Rafe does.

“She’s gonna start calling him Daddy,” he grumbles, watching JJ lift her into the air like she’s Simba.

“She can barely say da,” you reply dryly. “Relax.”

"She’s obsessed with him.”

“She’s a baby. She’s allowed to have a favorite person of the week. Next week it’ll be the ceiling fan again.”

Rafe scowls, continuing. “He’s corrupting her.”

You give him a look. “He gave her a carrot stick and told her it was a tiny lightsaber.”

“She tried to stab herself in the eye with it.”

“With a carrot?”

Autumn squeals happily from JJ’s arms, cheeks flushed, hair a wild puff of static from all the excitement. You glance at Rafe, who’s still pouting, then lean in and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“She loves you most,” you murmur. “She just likes that he lets her be chaotic.”

“I taught him that fart noise.”

You snort. “So technically, she’s laughing at you.”

He scowls harder, “Should’ve known he’d use it against me.”

You chuckle shifting the laundry pile to your other side. “It’s not espionage. It’s a fart noise.”

“It’s psychological warfare,” Rafe grimaces, watching him cradle Autumn like a football while making increasingly ridiculous sound effects. “He’s trying to brainwash her."

“Uh huh.”

"I don't like it."

“She’s allowed to have multiple people she loves,” you remind him but you’re still smiling. You’re used to this version of him—the one that acts like every new milestone is a competition.

“She doesn’t laugh like that for me,” Rafe says under his breath.

And that—ugh. That makes your heart squeeze.

“She does,” you say, getting up from the couch to press your hands to his chest.

He huffs and puffs. “I’m gonna teach her to fake snore when he talks.”

Nevermind.

“I’ll make you sleep on the couch.”

“She’s my daughter. I deserve to win.”

He stares at JJ for a second, expression split between a grudge and a mission. Then he walks forward with purpose.

“Alright,” He says finally, “That’s enough. Gimme my daughter.”

JJ clutches her tighter, one hand protectively over her diapered butt, shielding her from a custody battle. “Uh, no? I just got here. We’re bonding. Go away.”

Rafe steps forward, narrowing his eyes. “Maybank.”

JJ narrows his eyes right back, pivoting on socked feet like a quarterback. “Rafe.”

“She’s my baby.”

JJ whirls around dramatically, Autumn giggling in his arm. “You mean our baby.”

“Try me, Maybank. I will end you.”

“She’s my niece. And she just told me she prefers my vibes.”

“She doesn’t know what a fucking vibe is, dumbass, she eats lint.”

“Language!" Autumn chooses that moment to let out a delighted squeal, grabbing a fistful of JJ’s hair, who winces. “See? She’s on my team. Blood oaths have been made.”

She yanks one more load of JJ’s hair, tugging so hard his whole body dips forward.

“Jesus—okay, that’s new.”

Rafe smirks. “Yeah. Put her down."

JJ immediately takes off, sprinting around the coffee table, Autumn bouncing in his arms and laughing like it’s the best roller coaster she’s ever been on. Rafe chases after him, dodging a laundry basket and knocking over a throw pillow like it’s war.

“I'm gonna kill you.” Rafe shouts.

“You’ve tried!” JJ yells over his shoulder, giggling like a child himself. “Didn’t work before, won’t work now!”

You’re frozen on the couch, holding a burp cloth and a sock that definitely isn’t yours, mouth open in disbelief. “OH MY GOD—put her down! You absolute freaks, she’s a baby!”

JJ dives over the arm of the couch, landing with a grunt and shielding Autumn against his chest.

"She’s safe! She’s laughing! That means I win!”

“You are a grown man,” you hiss.

“Debatable,” Rafe mutters, climbing over the opposite side of the couch.

“Stop—no parkour while holding my child! I swear to God, Jay—”

“She’s resilient!”

“She’s six months old!”

Autumn is absolutely howling with laughter now, unaware she’s at the center of the dumbest turf war known to man. Her sock is hanging off one foot, her little cheeks are flushed, and she’s having the time of her life while her dad and honorary uncle act like this is an olympic final.

Eventually, Rafe wrestles JJ into a cushion pile and scoops her out of the chaos. He holds her up triumphantly, triumphant and slightly out of breath.

“Victory.”

Autumn lets out a sleepy giggle, head dropping to his shoulder and her dad, leans in, kissing her cheek.

JJ, from the floor. “She told me I’m the favorite.”

“She told you nothing.”

“She blinked twice. That’s Morse code for JJ is the coolest.”

You close your eyes. “I am begging for peace.”

You wrestle a pacifier from the depths of the diaper bag and pop it into Autumn’s mouth, watching her blink drowsily, eyelashes fluttering like little wings. She curls into Rafe’s chest ready to crash, all worn out from being the prize in a living room death match.

JJ groans from the floor and throws an arm over his eyes.

“I pulled a muscle.”

“You don’t have that.” Rafe retorts.

You glance between them, grabbing a baby wipe and tossing it at JJ’s face. “Can we go five minutes without turning my child into a tug-of-war rope?”

He peels the wipe off dramatically. “She loved it.”

“She also loves chewing on her own foot,” you say. “Not a high bar.”

Autumn makes a soft squeaking noise into Rafe’s shirt, fingers curling in the fabric. You reach over, brushing a tuft of hair off her forehead, your heart gushing at the sight. She’s settling.

Rafe’s rocking her gently now, swaying in place out of habit, his palm covering most of her tiny back. He snorts, glancing down at JJ.

“You’re wearing socks with bananas on them.”

“They’re lucky socks.”

“For what? Avoinding employment?”

“Exactly.”

You sigh, but there’s warmth in it. They’re always like this no matter their age, sarcasm wrapped around gratitude. JJ may act like the annoying little brother, but Rafe never lets him get too far.

Autumn stirs, fidgeting against Rafe’s chest.

“...Dada.”

Rafe freezes mid-sway. JJ’s jaw drops.

You blink. “Did she—?”

“Did she just say—” JJ starts.

“Say it again,” Rafe whispers, looking down, voice stuck in his throat. “Do it again, baby. Please.”

Autumn blinks up at him with wide, sleepy eyes. Her pacifier hangs out of the corner of her mouth. She gurgles again.

“Dada.”

Slurred, but undeniably there. Rafe’s face crumples. You reach over, your hand on his wrist, heart doing cartwheels in your chest.

He laughs, stunned, breathless. “Holy shit. She said—”

“I was holding her for two hours,” JJ groans dramatically, throwing himself backward onto the rug. “I did the work. I earned that word.”

“She said Dada,” Rafe repeats, beaming like the sun rose in his arms. He presses a kiss to her chubby cheek, then her forehead, holding her like she’s made of gold. “I win. It’s over. Game set match.”

“She said Dada,” JJ protests, rolling to his side. “Not Rafe. That could’ve been anyone’s Dada."

Rafe ignores him, smirking down at you.

"I told you she's a prodigy."

You’re laughing now, tears gathering in your eyes because your little girl, with eyes fluttering shut again, said her first word.

“She said Dada.”

“I know,” you whisper, leaning in close. “You deserve it.”

He kisses you without thinking, a quick press of lips but JJ yells again from the floor.

“Oh my god. Get a room.”

“You don’t live here,” Rafe calls over his shoulder.

“I'm here every other day.” JJ argues.

Rafe flips him off with one hand, the other still cradling Autumn.

JJ sits up like a man betrayed, squinting at the baby girl.

“Y’know what?” he mutters, brushing imaginary dust off his banana socks. “She’s a traitor. I give her my time, my talent, best material—I’m done."

“You say that every time."

“I’m gonna make my own baby. That’s right, a new heir."

You nearly choke on your own breath. “I—I'm sorry—what?”

He squares his shoulders, chin up. “A baby. A tiny me, blood loyalty.”

“Oh my god,” you wheeze. “You are not reproducing.”

“Watch me.”

“No—no no no. You think you’re getting Kie pregnant before she hits twenty-eight? She’ll feed you your own balls with a side of avocado toast.”

Your husband is gone, biting back laughter so hard he nearly drops Autumn.

JJ points an accusatory finger in your direction.

“You’re not invited to the baby shower.”

“Good,” you shoot back, grinning. “I’m already planning the funeral.”

You shake your head, standing and grabbing the baby monitor off the table. Autumn’s fast asleep now, her mouth slack on Rafe’s shoulder, one hand curled in his shirt.

JJ watches her, quiet for more than two seconds, which is rare.

“She really said it, huh?”

You smile, “Yeah."

Rafe kisses her hair, rocking a little again without realizing.

“You’ll get your moment, man."

JJ nods solemnly. “You’re right. I’ll wait. And in the meantime…”

You narrow your eyes. “What.”

He grins. “I’m teaching her how to say Uncle JJ is the GOAT.”

"Touch her again and I’m yeeting you off the balcony.”

You pinch the bridge of your noise. “Both of you, get out.”

JJ's already halfway to the kitchen.

“Do you guys still have leftover lasagna or what.”