#rice boy toe

[kleiner-ghost]

[bi-writes]

can't stop thinking about dark!simon with a sunshine!curvy!fem!reader, it's gnawing at my brain. (18+)

greeting him when he comes home in a little apron with dough smeared across your cheeks. you're bouncing in the kitchen, giggling as you wrap your arms around his neck. one burly arm hooks around your waist as he palms one side of your ass, and you kiss his lips over his blood-soaked mask again and again as you coo, "missed you so much, made you chocolate chip..."

you talk and talk and talk and talk. you're always talking. you're always whispering in his ear and chattering as he drives and telling him some story about something he missed while he was gone as you tidy up the flat. you never stop talking, never run out of things to tell him, and despite the monotone voice and the lack of response, he hears every single word that you say, and he forgets nothing. when he makes his way back on base, johnny is waiting, eager to hear an update about the receptionist at your work and if she is actually sleeping with your manager.

you wash his clothes without even blinking. you're at the sink, a bucket of cold, suddy water there as you scrub at his shirt. there's peroxide at the side, and you use a delicate hand as you scrub at the stains on it. ghost watches from the doorway as you hum to yourself, in a little pair of shorts with your hair tied up as you rinse the shirt clean. blood runs down the drain, and his shirt is clean as new.

you always find some kind of weapon around the house. you bend down to brush crumbs off the kitchen chairs, and you scold simon with a glossy pout because he left a bloody knife taped under the table. you whine when you find a grenade sitting in the same drawer you keep your tampons in. you complain when you take out the jar of rice to make dinner, and there's a small handgun hidden between the grains. but your face always softens when he cups your cheeks with two big hands, kissing you warmly, muttering, "gotta keep y'safe, luvvie...know there's a bloody line waitin' for a taste of y'r cunny, baby."

you visit him on base once in light wash denim and a white tshirt, sneakers hitting the linoleum and purse swinging as you wave at him. he's standing in front of a line of privates, watching them do jumping jacks, and his eyes light up a little when he sees you waving at him enthusiastically. when he finally makes it to you, he shoves you into the nearest supply closet and tugs your jeans down just enough to fit his cock between your thighs. when he's walking you out, the boys watch as you cling to simon's arm, a lovesick grin on your sweaty face as you flutter your lashes up at him.

he loves when your manicured hands touch him. scratching along his scalp, tracing the edge of his jaw, cupping the bulge in his pants. you're so sweet, the most giggly girl, and he loves tasting the strawberry of your gloss as you make him cum with your hand, cooing against his lips about how strong he is, how much you love him, how you would do anything for him.

he loves it most when you see him for what he really is. when he comes home battered and bruised, bloody clothes sticking to him, a snarl to his voice and the adrenaline of an op still pumping through his veins. he loves that nothing about him scares you. that even like this, you lean up on your toes and kiss him softly, that you get some of the blood and dirt smudges on the pink of your pajama pants, and you don't care, that he strangled a man with these very hands only hours ago, and you still want him to touch you.

he loves that you love him. that when he feeds his cock into you that night, in nothing but your baby pink lingerie, that you barely need any prep at all from how wet you are. thick thighs spreading apart, sticky slick shining on your skin, cunt nice and ready for him because you have missed him that much. he loves that no matter how ugly he feels, you always find him attractive, that no matter how many people he tells you that he killed tonight, all you do is smile and pucker your lips, and tell him, "it's okay, teddy bear, they deserved it, didn't they?" and yeah, they did, cause it is kill or be killed, and there is no universe where ghost does not fight to get back here, to get back to this pretty pussy, to get back to the bed he shares with you so he can watch those pretty tits bounce every time he fucks his cock into you.

ghost loves his pretty girl. all smiles. all soft, so cute, just perfect. ghost casts a shadow over the room, and you just brighten it right back up. ghost tracks blood into the house, and there you are to cover it all up with citrus and soap.

yeah. always just sunshine and smiles at home.

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Ten

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 5.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Masturbation, dirty (self) talk, brief daddy kink. This fic contains mature themes. Domestic violence. Grooming. Feelings of fear and anxiety. Nurse!reader. Kissing. Lots of dialogue. Bun considers making a friend. Penny is cute. Flirting. Touching. Comfort. Bun refers to herself as "heavy". Simon is Simon. POV switch. Dinner date.

“I’m Philip.”

The handsome brunette smiles, grabbing onto your hand. You blink, trying to understand, trying to make it make sense, when he prompts you with a teasing grin. “This is the part where you tell me your name, sweet thing.” 

Oh. You stumble over it, tongue tied into a million knots, sweat from the Texas sun beating down your back, sweat slicking your shirt to your skin. 

He’s still holding your hand, and you’re standing there with wide, doe eyes, shell shocked. 

He’s… so handsome. And older. Older, and handsome. Polished type, with good teeth and good hair. He looks like he just stepped off the golf course. 

Why is he talking to you? 

He glances down at your drink. 

“You even old enough to be drinkin’ that?” 

“I-“ You’re terrible at lying, and like he can read it on your face, he chuckles. 

“You live around here?” 

“I go to Rice.” 

“A bit young for college, aren’t you?” 

“I just turned eighteen!” You’ve heard it a million times. You’re too young to understand something, or know something, or do something. You don’t get the way the world works yet. You’re not an adult. 

He holds his hands up. “I’m sorry. I bet you’re one of the really smart girls that make all us men look like Neanderthals.” Your face heats. 

“N-no. I just… I graduated early. I’m not a know it all.” You defend yourself, desperate to create distance from the usual stereotype, the way most people see you. The way boys see you. 

Too smart. Face buried in a book. Awkward and stiff. Uncool. 

He traces you from head to toe, appreciative gaze grazing over the swell of your hips, the generous curve of your ass. “I didn’t think you were. Too mature for that, I bet.” He croons, and your knees go weak. 

“Y-yeah. A lot of people say I’m really mature.” 

Two things compete for your attention when you open your eyes.

One: there is a soft, lovely song playing downstairs, something spring-like and sweet, vibrant without being too loud.

Two: the house smells like pancakes.

You check your phone, shocked to see you’ve slept for yet another 12 hours. There’s a text from Nia, and a text from your boss.

>You have a lot of time accrued. Take as much as you need. 

That settles that, you guess.

There are also text messages in the group chat, one from Simon, and one from Johnny, coming in only a few minutes ago.

Simon: >Penny gets pancakes on Saturday mornings. They’ll be plenty, come down and eat when you’re ready. 

Johnny: >I’m missing all the good stuff. 

You stretch, cautiously, wiggling fingers and toes, spreading your limbs as far as you can without pushing it too much. You’re sore, uncomfortably so, and still exhausted, but if you stay in bed any longer, you’ll rot.

In the kitchen, Simon holds Penny and a mixing bowl, alternating hands to get a whisk through the batter while humming to his daughter on her hip.

You stop dead in your tracks.

He’s… he’s not wearing the mask. 

You stare at his face, his whole, naked face for the first time, taking in the broad jaw, every shiny white scar, and his (twice, if you had to guess) healed broken nose. He’s handsome, differently from Johnny but no less striking, and you can’t look away, stunned by his raw, depthless and rugged beauty. Penny’s leg has kicked up the hem of his shirt, exposing his midsection, and the flash of skin there feels like a scandal, something you shouldn’t be seeing but cannot get enough of. He looks nothing like you expected and yet… everything you hoped for.

“Morning.” Pen tucks her face into his chest shyly, peeking out from the corner of her eye, curious and cute. “Can you say good morning to bunny?” He bounces her a little, and she giggles.

"Bunny." She says quietly, and Simon laughs.

“That’s right. Good job.” After a second of silence, you try to ask him about the missing mask, but the question gets confused on your tongue, and what comes out instead is clumsy and stunted.

“Your mask.” You cringe, immediately. It’s the first thing that slips loose, insensitive, and uncouth. “I uh, I’m sorry, I’m just… surprised?” you falter, and makes it worse. You think about trying to run back upstairs, hightailing it for the hills when he smiles, and points to the empty stool at the kitchen counter with a batter covered whisk.

“Sit.” There’s already a stack piled high, plain, and ones with big, juicy blueberries. Your favorite. 

“So, pancakes every Saturday?”

“Mhmm.” He settles Penny in her highchair to your left, and pulls an already cooled pancake from the stack, cutting it up into little, tiny pieces with a child’s knife and fork. “Pen and her Da,” he pads some butter across the top of his handiwork, grabbing her sippy cup and filling it with milk. “Have pancakes every Saturday when he’s home. It’s their favorite. Right?” He points at her, “your favorite?” and taps his middle finger to his chin, others outward, straight up. “Your favorite?” Signing?

“Are you teaching her sign?”

“Trying to. Pen’s birth mum is deaf. It’s important to us, that she’s able to connect with her when the time comes. Plus, my hearing is shot. So is Johnny’s. It’s a great way for her to communicate with us.” He strokes some fingers through her curls, and she doesn’t even look up, too busy shoveling as much pancake into her mouth as she can. You have a million questions now, curiosities bubbling to the surface, about Pen’s mum, about her life, about how she came to be their child. All too rude, and too invasive to ask. “Or, to use when she’s feeling sassy and can’t find the words. That happens, too.”

“She’s what…sixteen months?” You watch her intently, unable to not smile when she cheeses at her dad with a mouthful of food, even though your tender skin stings with the movement.

“Yeah. Top percentiles in a lot of things for her age. Said her first word before she was one.” He’s rich with pride, a deep well of love shining in his eyes, and you force your own down to the plate, stifling the ache bleeding from your heart.

“Of course she is.” Penny holds pieces of sticky, syrupy pancake with both hands, attacking them with vigor, smearing her cheeks purple with the squished blueberries.

You need to eat something, but your brain is buzzing, unnatural discomfort stretching long in the back of your mind.

What’re you doing? Sitting here eating pancakes like everything is normal? Like everything’s okay? 

Everything is not okay. 

You drift, back to your apartment, back the venom of Phillip, the hands around your neck, the twist of your shoulder, back slamming into the wall. You can still feel him, still hear him, these memories like all the others, your body beaten on the floor, mind nearly broken. Trying to shift away from the hot end of a cigarette, screaming for help, running through a-

A hand covers yours.

He coaxes the fork from your fingers, metal vibrating within flesh.

“I think… I think I should go back to bed.” You whisper.

“Are you tired?”

“No… yeah. I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to run away, you know.” He flips a pancake onto your plate from the stack. “Just because you were somewhere else for a little bit.” Your cheeks burn. “We’ve got a pretty nice couch in the living room though, if you want some time alone and don’t feel too keen on the stairs.” Saturday morning pancakes and curling up on the couch? It sounds so nice, so normal, and must show on your face, because he chuckles. “Help yourself. You might have to share the TV though, in a bit. We watch baby Einstein on Saturdays, and she’ll need some entertaining for a minute while I get ready.” Your lips twist, an entire hearth lighting up in the bottom of your heart.

“Alright.”

Baby Einstein is as enthralling as you thought it would be, though Penny disagrees. She stares at the screen, wide eyed, open mouthed, sippy cup long forgotten, and even Simon struggles to get her attention after returning from getting dressed.

You force your eyes away from the strain of his thighs in blue jeans.

“We’re goin’ down to the hospital.” He tells you, pulling her upward over the back of the couch and rubbing his nose through her curls. It’s still… weird, to see his whole face. To clearly watch his expressions, sublime bliss pushing his mouth upward whenever he looks at his daughter. “Want to come?”

“I can’t, not if I’m taking time off. It… looks bad to admin. I can probably go in at night but, during the day is just a recipe for disaster.”

“Of course.” He looks around, for what you don’t know, shoulders tensing, then relaxing. “Well, you’ve got the remote. And my number. Are you… going to be, okay? Alone?”

Say yes. 

You can’t. All you can do… is nod.

“Okay well if you’re not. Just call.” You nod again, getting to your feet. Once you’re standing, you’re out of place, flailing in their living room, about to be here alone, with your memories, your poisoned mind.

What’re you doing? You’ve ruined everything. Broken all your rules. 

“We can stay.” Simon steps close, hand grazing the middle of your back, and you shake your head.

“No, no- I… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t-“

“Yes, I do.” Your voice shakes, and you slam your eyes shut. You can’t do this. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m putting you in danger, and I… I’m putting myself in danger and I’m being so- so stupid, Simon.” His gaze is heavy, serious, and he steps around you, sliding Penny into her bounce seat, turning it to face baby Einstein.

“Listen to me.”  As he returns, he reaches, carefully pulling you close, close enough you’re nearly in his chest, timing the rise and fall of his diaphragm. “We are safe, you are safe, sweetheart. ‘m not going to let anything happen to you, or Penny, or any of us. Alright?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Tell me.” You almost laugh, but something comes over you instead, something delirious and desperate. You lean into him, letting him hold you, hand smoothing over the back of your head. “You can tell me. You can trust us. We’ll take care of you.”

God, you want to. You want to so bad it aches, burns a ravenous fire in your heart. You want tell him, let them in. Tell them everything.

“Bun.” He murmurs, bringing you back, a finger under your chin.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t. It’s… it’s too much.”

“It’s alright.” He soothes, but doesn’t pull away, and you’re drawn in like a magnet, rising to the balls of your feet, stuck in a trance, luring you closer.

He meets your halfway.

And then-

He’s kissing you, plush lips on yours, pancakes and fresh laundry and stained-glass windows of sanctuary on his tongue.

You’re standing in the sun, in the trance of another spell.

It’s a mouthful of butterscotch and maple. Sweet, delicious breakfast in bed, lazy Saturday mornings and whispered, tender words. It’s life unlike your own, a home, the promise of a love not fractioned, chipped away, or strangled… but multiplied, magnified. His touch is painfully gentle, slow and easy, encouraging you to follow his lead, carefully constructing a tiny universe to disappear to, where shadow cannot touch. A fantasy, cocoon of stars, ambrosial and sacrosanct, an escape from the hell nipping at your heels, the hell chasing you through your dreaming and waking hours. 

The anxious hum radiating through every cell in your body flatlines.

The girl in the mirror weeps.

Everything goes silent. Your breathing slows. Your hands fall to the side, listless and stunned.

Penny grunts. The moment shatters.

You can only stare with wide, terrified eyes.

“Johnny.” It’s the first word out of your mouth, the only thing you can conjure. “I’m sorry, I don’t know… I’m sorry.” Johnny. Johnny’s not here. How can he kiss you when his partner isn’t here? His heart will be broken, you’re destroying their family, you’re-

“I kissed you, bunny. Nothin’ to be sorry about.” Simon hums, still holding your face. “Johnny’s okay. He’ll be a bit jealous he didn’t get one too, but he won’t be upset.”

“How?” the question squeaks, and he takes your hand, tugging you towards the couch, settling you back into the cushions, easily guiding you with deft hands. He's so careful, so gentle, the touch of a man who raises a daughter, who loves his partner, adroit and nimble, anticipating movement before it happens. 

“After Penny goes down tonight, let’s have a drink. Or some late dinner. We can talk, and I’ll answer as many of your questions as I can. How’s that sound?” He strokes a thumb across the apple of your cheek. Talking can’t hurt, can it?

“O-okay. Yeah.” You try to shrug, pain lancing through your shoulder, and you try to smother your wince. He frowns.

“I want you to get some rest today.” A small grin creeps across your face.

“You always tell people what to do?” He nods, solemn.

“It’s my job. Takin’ care of you lot is an added bonus.” He breezes by the grouping of you with his family, like it’s a normal thing, rubbing circles in your palm. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

“I can-“

“I’m here. Let me help.” You don’t say anything at first. Can’t say anything, can’t formulate a response that encompasses everything you’re thinking and feeling, stuck on the mile high wall that is your fear and denial, afraid to jump. Afraid to fall.

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask you to respond, He just… settles you, cautiously arranging the pillows to support your injuries, lets you sit there atop the wall, staring down at the ground where they wait. Patiently. He rubs your back and your good shoulder until you’re drifting away in heady, hazy dream world, unable to stir when he slips free, tucking the blankets in around you, and pressing another long, lingering kiss to your brow.

You wake in a panic to the doorbell ringing. Your heart races, and you’re up off the couch, tucked around a corner of the hall, hiding, in a blink, even though your shoulder and neck scream at the sudden change of position.

Breathe. You’re losing it. Philip wouldn’t ring a doorbell. 

The door clicks open.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice echoes to where you’re still curled around the hallway, back pressed flat, eyes closed. “Hello? Anyone home?” Who is that? 

You peek, like a child. Peering around to see a familiar woman with grocery bags in her hands, depositing them on the kitchen counter.

She spots you immediately.

“Hi!” She’s grinning, pretty and bright, pulling a carton of milk from a brown paper bag and putting it in the fridge. “I’m Lou. Sorry, did I scare you? I tried to ‘announce’ myself.” She makes bunny ears with her fingers before and after the word announce, with half of an eye roll. “John’s always telling me I have to when I come over. Can’t be giving anyone surprises, and I knew you were here. Just wasn’t sure if you’d be up for visitors. Sorry if I gave you a fright.”

“No, I…” you trail off, readjusting, giving her your name. She nods and smiles again. “I remember you. In front of the elevator that day.”

“Yeah, that was me.” She’s earnest in her focus, beaming at you, almost like she’s excited.

“You look a little different out of your cute scrubs.” That gives you a small laugh, and you smile honestly at her, flattered.

“Thanks.”

“Sorry if I’m disturbing you.”

“Oh no, you’re not. I was just… I’m fine.” She pulls a flat of eggs free and stacks them next to a colorful pile of produce.

“I do the store runs for Simon right now. It’s too much, with Johnny in hospital and taking care of Pen. We’ve been trying to lighten his load.” Guilt twists. And here you are, adding onto it. 

“That’s very nice of you.” She waves it off.

“They’ve kept my husband alive a million times over. It’s the least I can do.”

“Right… they… work together?”

“Simon is semi-retired but yeah. They’re in a global task force. It’s the four of them. Have you met Kyle yet?”

“Oh, yeah. At the hospital one day.”

“Best guy, really.” Her clothes swish, warm and sweet aura practically glowing.

“Yeah, he was really nice.” She rests her hands on her hips and looks you over.

“You okay?” This woman is direct. She's got a no nonsense approach, and through intense, there's true ardor in her, passion and care. 

“Yeah, I’m just… still recovering.” You don’t know what she knows, not sure what they’ve told her or John, so you’re not sure how much, or what even, to say.

“Simon told us, about you being mugged. I’m so sorry, it’s just awful.” She’s sincere in her sympathy, big brown eyes sad and considerate.

“It’s okay, thank you. I’m okay.”

“If you need anything, I’m always around. Or if you want to talk to another girl that isn’t a toddler.” It’s an olive branch of friendship, you realize, or the beginnings of, and you’re startled, considering it, wondering if it would be so bad… to have a friend.

“Thank you.” She gives you her number, and you tap it in, shooting her a text with your name.

“You should sit.”

“I can help with these.”

“No, no. No offense, but you look half asleep. I’ve got it.” You laugh even though it hurts, awkward half shrug with good shoulder, and agree.

“Yeah, I’m still recovering. It’s been slow.”

“I’m sure.” You sit at the counter, watching her organize the fridge with scary efficiency. “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute. Just had to drop these off.”

“Oh, you’re fine.” It’s nice. You’re nice. She feels safe, the proximity to Simon and Johnny naturally leading you to feel comfortable, knowing she’s welcomed by them, she’s a part of their life. It makes you feel more at ease, and you try to convey it without getting tangled up in awkward words.

You don’t know how. Not really sure how to make genuine friends anymore, so you just sit there and watch, listening to her talk, enjoying how she rambles a little bit, laughing at herself.

When she says goodbye at the door, she promises to text you the next time she’s coming by, so you’re not surprised, and you linger there, watching her go, wondering if it’s real, surprisingly mourning the loss of companionship already.

“Johnny misses you.” The ice in Simon’s rocks glass clinks together as he sips his bourbon, corner of his mouth lifting in a partial smirk. “Not too fond of his new nurse, I’m afraid. Think he’s spoiled now.”

“How is he?” You’re on the edge of your seat for an update, but not wanting to pry too much. It’s a delicate line, one where you don’t know on which side to stand.

“Good. Wrist fracture is nearly healed, so he’ll be able to start on crutches soon. Once he does, he’ll be doing physical therapy for most of his day, and ready to come home. Should be soon.” He really smiles now, and you mirror it, unable to deny the infectious bloom of happiness spreading from him to you.

“And his liver?”

“No complications. Grafts for his burn are in great shape. Hip is the trickiest part.”

“Yeah, they take a lot longer to heal, but I’m sure he’ll do a great job of it, just like everything else.”

“Thanks to you.” You sip your wine, citrusy peach and passionfruit coating your tongue. It’s a nice bottle, and you were surprised when Simon brought it home, bag of takeaway in one arm, Penny in the other.

“No.”  Your cheeks heat. “I was just there. You guys did the hard work.”

“Wouldn’t have made it without you though. Think I would’ve lost it. Him too.”

“You would’ve been fine.” You brush it off, and he shakes his head.  

“You’re too modest.” He drains his pour, uncapping the bottle on the coffee table between you and refilling it halfway. Glass on glass chimes, and you sink deeper into the couch, relaxing, tucking your knees up until you’re half curled into a ball, wine glass cradled between your palms.

“So…”

“I told you; you can ask me whatever you like.” You knew this was the case, but hesitance is still brimming in your heart, uneasy feelings festering beneath your skin, burning question shoving to the surface.

“Did you tell Johnny we kissed?”

“I did.”

“Was he upset?”

“Only because he feels like he’s missing out. I told him we’d make it up to him.” Fire enflames your skin. We?

“And by we you mean… us. Together. Like… the three of us.”

“I do.” The girl in the mirror screams. She doesn’t understand, why you continue to act against her better judgement. Why you’re entertaining something so, so dangerous, something so stupid.

“Simon, I… I can’t.”

“You keep saying that but look where you are, bun.” He motions to the table, takeaway cartons scattered across the top, half empty bottle of wine, his bourbon, and a baby monitor. It looks like a nice night in, a simple, sweet life, not even close to being your own.

Still, the girl in mirror combats. Still.

“This isn’t… this isn’t a thing it’s just… we’re hanging out. I’m not going to be here forever, I’m looking for a place and I-“ His face changes, flicker of shadow fading across his brow before being chased away by the sunlight in his eyes. You thought he'd be easier to read, without the mask, imagined you'd be able to place his expressions but you're just as confused and lost as ever. 

“Slow down. There’s no need to look for a place to live.”

“W-what?” The wine has made you a little slow, a little sleepy, and you blink through the stupor.

“You’re still healing, sweetheart, and I know you're scared. I’ve known since the first day you stepped into Johnny’s room.”

“No.” You shake your head. Pain fizzles, numbed by alcohol, and your head swims.

“I know you weren’t mugged.” How? “I know you’re running from someone.” Oh god. The urge to get to your feet and bolt washes over you like a wave.

“I- I’m not.” The lie is bare-boned, pathetically unconvincing, and you know it. He knows it too; you can tell by the look on his face.

“You’re not ready to tell me, that’s fine. I’m patient. But you won’t be going anywhere if I don’t know you’re safe. And right now, to me, it doesn’t seem like you’re safe.” The pale yellow of your wine shines in the low lights of the living room, and you get lost in it, swirling around in his words, trying to put them together and pick them apart, desperate to understand what he means.

“Are you… are you saying you won’t let me leave?” You gulp. It’s a ridiculous conclusion, but the first one you jump to.

And in that, you know you’re giving too much away.

His face softens, and he reaches, pulling your free hand into his own, petting some sort of sequence into your skin. 

“Of course not, sweetheart. I’d never, ever force you to do something you didn’t want to do. But I do want you to stay, here with us. Where we can keep you safe, take care of you.”

“I don’t need-“

“I know you don’t. I know you take care of yourself just fine.” The indignant roar in the back of your mind settles. “But I’d love an opportunity to do it instead.”

“Simon…”

“Did you know the cells in our body hold onto trauma? They carry imprints of traumatic events. It can change your biology, the way you function.” He squeezes your hand. “It’s hard to realize… that it’s not normal, the way you might be, the way you think, or do things, when you’re carrying the physical memory of terrible things.” He’s not talking about you. There’s a fleeting flash of sadness in his eyes, ghosts circling the drain around his irises, and your heart aches. “We can help you. I don’t know who you’re hiding from, but I can guess what they’ve done- look at me.” You force your eyes back to him, and he cups your cheek. “You do not have to be afraid here. You are safe with me, with us. I know you don’t believe it, and I’ll tell you as many times you need, but it will never not be true. We can help you.”

“You don’t know… you don’t know what you’re saying.” Your denial is steadfast. They cannot possibly understand. 

A small seed of light blooms under darkness. It’s the sun, struggling to break free, trying to drag you into its warm, golden rays. It tugs and tugs, clawing towards you, illuminating the path forward.

The words come out before the girl in the mirror can stop them.

“You don’t know him. He’s sick and… powerful. He’s a monster but he’s smart, has connections, has ways of doing things that… I don’t even know. He’d kill you.” You clap your hand over your mouth in shock, surprised at yourself. It’s the most you’ve said about Philip in years.

You expect pushback. Expect Simon to flinch, or cower, or have good sense… a rational reaction to being told someone might try to hurt him.

He smiles instead, settling back on his side of the couch.

“I’d just have to get to him first, then.” Is he… is he? Simon watches you, reaches into your brains to peer inside, rooting around in your head. The way he looks at you, like he knows everything you’re feeling, can see what you're thinking, makes you shiver, makes you feel like you’re a tiny mouse in the shadow of a mountain. He sighs. “Give us a chance.”

“A chance?”

“A chance, to know you. Let us in, let us try. Stay here, with us, spend time with me and Johnny and Pen. No strings attached. If you decide it’s not for you… we’ll understand.”  

No strings attached. 

You could pick up and leave if you wanted. If you had to. 

What’re you doing? 

“How does it work? Would we all…” you trail off, confused.

“Date?” Simon finishes gently. “Yes.”

“So, you guys are… bi?” He chuckles.

“Yes, sweetheart. We’re bi.”

“Is this… a thing? Something you guys do?”

“We’ve never taken another partner before, no.” Your eyes widen. “You’re our first.” You don’t know why, but knowing is exhilarating and terrifying, all at the same time. You’re their first. 

He’s talking about it like it’s already happened. 

Fatigue settles in around you, thick fog of it draping over your shoulders and clouding your head.

“I… I don’t know.” You stifle a yawn. “I need to think.” He abandons his perch for one next to you, pulling your wine glass free and setting it on the table.

“Tired?” His fingers sweep over your cheek, skin warming under his touch.

“Mhmm.” You mumble, sleepily. Your head is very heavy, suddenly, hard to hold up.

“Alright.” He stands, bending to slide an arm under your knees, the other supporting your back in one fluid movement.

“What are you doing?” You squeak, grabbing onto him as he rises, lifting you into his chest at full height. Panic floods your nervous system, fevered tone pitching into a plea. “Put me down! I’m too heavy. Please, I’m too heavy, you can’t-“

“I’ve lifted a car off a teammate before.” He tells you, the thick of his body beneath your ear vibrating. “And I’ve dug Johnny out of a collapsed concrete wall. I’m made to pick things up, bunny. Heavy or not.” He holds you right there, all the way up the stairs, down the hall to the guest room, before settling you back on your feet, big hands around your waist for balance. Your back is to his chest now, and his nose drifts across the top of your head, slow path of his fingers stroking down your hip. “Alright?” He asks, and you nod, throat too dry to speak.

He squeezes. You stifle a gasp, resist the urge to press your thighs together.

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched, since anyone has handled you with reverence, with affection. You almost don’t recognize it.

His hand drifts, slipping between your thigh and cheek. “This okay?” He murmurs, and you manage a rough yes, word sticky and thick in your throat. Yes. Yes, don’t stop. A fingertip strokes along the crease there, back and forth, before trailing upward. He takes as much of your flesh in his palm as he can, squeezing again, caressing, mouth skimming along your neck.  

“Oh.” you breathe. The room is warm, barely lit by the bedside lamp, and you burn in the dark, sensations sparking alive that have long laid dormant.

The girl in the mirror curses you.

“Need help getting to bed?”

“N-no.” Yes! “I’m… fine.” His lips touch your cheek, then your ear, breath blowing over you, firm, solid warm mass at your back exhaling shakily.

“Get some sleep.” He steps away, but not before he swings, slowly, softly, into the pillow plush of your ass. It’s a gentle tap, but the fire between your legs roars. “Goodnight, bun.”

“G-goodnight.”

Simon's got his sweatpants and boxers off before he's even fully in the bathroom, running right into the shower, hand wrapped around his throbbing cock as the water flicks on. It's not hot enough, but he doesn't even notice, cock heavy in his grip, tip already smeared wet with pre-come. 

"Fuck, bunny." He grits, trying to stay quiet but unable to hold his tongue.

He's awful, for this. Awful for doing this after you've had such an emotional night. Awful for touching you when you're still healing, awful for grabbing a handful of your ass and imagining sliding his dick through the space between those cheeks. He can't stop, strokes himself long, squeezing the base and pulling up and back as he imagines you on all fours, perfect globe perked up in the air for him, his cock sinking into your soaking wet pussy as you moan. He knows you would make the prettiest sounds for them, sweet gasps and cries, bouncing on Johnny's cock in his lap. 

"Hop like a bunny." He'd coo, and you'd whine, riding Johnny as Simon coached you until you were so close, almost there on the edge. "Show daddy how bad you want to come, little bunny." 

He jerks himself harder, eyes closed, imagining the ripple of your flesh, the way you'd bounce so perfectly, how Johnny would be gripping your hips with his head tipped back, throat exposed for Simon to nip and suck a mark into.

His bunny. His boy. 

His toes curl. Water streams down his back, slicking his skin, forearm burning with each stroke, imagination running wild as he gets closer and closer, thinking about you and Johnny and him together, finally, your legs spread wide in front of their faces, perfect pussy on display. He can almost hear the way you'd whisper their names, and it blinds him, fills his head with white light. He knows you're beautiful when you come, as beautiful as you are when you let your guard down and give him a real smile, as beautiful as you are everyday, so pretty and perfect, kind, even as a ghost. He imagines it, pictures it, the sight of his and Johnny's come leaking out of your hole, fingers shoving it back inside, marking you as theirs. 

He comes with your name on his lips, a strangled whisper, painting the tile with himself. 

He falls asleep with a new addition in their bed, on top of Johny's t shirt and the baby monitor... there's now a long sleeved tee, plucked from your dirty laundry this morning as he was getting ready to leave. It smells like you, something he wishes he could bottle, and he holds it close, tied in tandem with Johnny's, curled in his arms on top of the pillow. 

[vrystalius]

Would be willing to do like ,, Rengoku x reader that takes care of Senjuro while he’s away on missions ? Rengoku deserves some love but so does his little brother <333

Visiting the smallest Rengoku.

You had nothing to do with Kyojuro being away on an important mission, so you decided to visit his younger brother.

Pairing: Kyojuro x reader, platonic/familial Senjuro x reader

(A little angsty by the end)

Your husband has been away for a couple days now. You prepared a large pot for miso soup and some sweet potatoes for your husband to enjoy when he returns from his long mission. After finishing your chores, you decided to pay Senjuro a visit and to help him out a little. You knew that he’s working hard to keep everything together in his family home with Shinjuro doing nothing but cause a mess and drink all day every day, leaving the youngest Rengoku family member to take care of himself and his drunkard father.

You always pitied Senjuro for needing to grow up so fast and barely experiencing childhood. His mother died too early in his life, meaning he barely remembers her. But you also know how much your husband Kyojuro dotes on his little brother and wishes for him to be nothing but happy. Sometimes, you two thought about moving Senjuro to your house, away from Shinjuro and the verbal abuse.

You made sure to prepare Senjuro a small home cooked meal before heading out. You weren’t sure what his favourite food was, so you went with something Kyojuro would’ve liked: sweet potatoes with some rice and fried vegetables and some Mochi you bought from a vendor on your way to the residence. You were sure Senjuro’ll appreciate some home-cooked food! He hasn’t been cooked for in a while.

Upon your arrival, you sound hin sweeping the porch, removing the yellow and orange coloured and dried leaves.

“The leaves match your hair, Senjuro!”

Hearing your voice call out to him so suddenly made him flinch and stiffen up, but his shoulders visibly relaxed after spotting you. Senjuro smiled shyly and waved.

“My brother isn’t here if that’s why you came to visit. He still should be on a mission.”

You knew that Kyojuro’s little brother still has to get used to you being around and marrying his older brother, but you also heard from him that Senjuro really admires you. You haven’t interacted a lot, but everytime you did, his eyes would sparkle in fascination. He always asked you about what you do and how it is to live with his older brother. He is also very curious about your cooking and even mustered courage (he received a lot of pep-talking from your husband) to ask for some of your recipes!

After setting down for lunch and presenting your home-cooked meal to him, Senjuro thanked you with a bright smile. He really missed getting cooked meals that aren’t prepared by himself. You insisted on cooking for him and Shinjuro, preparing more lunch and dinner. That way, Senjuro doesn’t have to cook anything today and maybe even tomorrow. He was extremely grateful and tried to help you out as much as possible, feeling a little guilty for you cooking, even though you are supposed to be a guest. He watched you cook over your shoulder, tip-toeing to try and get a better view.

“Can you teach me that recipe? It looks very tasty.”

He’s extremely fascinated by your whole being. You’re so kind, so talented and beautiful, no wonder why his brother married you. Senjuro is extremely glad to have you as a sister-in-law.

After the meal, you suggested to play a round of Shogi with him. You knew that Shinjuro barely ever leaves his bedroom, meaning Senjuro has no one to play or talk with. That poor boy was forced to grow up to fast and never got to enjoy his childhood, so you wanted to help him be a child again. Even if for a little while. You two sat on the porch during the game. He was extremely happy during the whole match, ranting about his older brother and papa the whole time.

“One time, my brother was teaching how to use the fire breathing technique, and I saw flames sparking out of my sword! It was small, but Kyojuro was so proud of me! We went to town and got a bowl of ramen together. Our father scolded us for coming home so late…”

Senjuro’s eyes were sparkling and a big smile was plastered on his face while moving his pieces. In the end, you let him win to make him just a little happier. But just as he was about to celebrate, Kyojuro’s crow quietly flew above the residence, landing right beside you two. It was quiet for a couple moments before finally announcing what he came here for.

“The flame pillar! The flame pillar fought Upper Moon Three! Upper Moon Three!”

Silence draped over you three as all of you and Senjuro both knew what was the crow was about to announce next. You glanced over at the youngest of the Rengoku’s.

His hands were tightly gripping his hakama pants as his gaze was fixated on the shogi pieces. Tears started forming in the corners of his eyes.

You knew your husband won’t be coming back for the miso soup and sweet potatoes you left at home for him.

💠

I am going to sob during Akaza’s backstory reveal and death, but I probably sobbed more over Kyojuro’s. Senjuro doesn’t deserve anything that happened to him and I’m so glad Shinjuro changed for the better in the end!!. Thank you for requesting this and sorry for the wait!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

[peachsukii]

₊✩‧₊ ⇢ birthday boy katsuki!

『 ♡ 』 bakugo x fem!reader (18+ under the cut!) cw; alcohol consumption/tipsy katsuki note; i know canonically it's his 18th, it's his 22nd here. i know it's a tad long for bullet point style, but what can i say? i love this man. -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

✩ you quietly sneak out of bed at 6:30am the morning of katsuki's birthday, trying not to wake him before you get the chance to make him breakfast. he's sound asleep, a soft smile on his lips as his bare chest rises and falls peacefully. you throw on his dynamight hoodie and tip toe to the kitchen.

✩ katsuki had gone to bed earlier than usual last night due to back-to-back patrol shifts, letting you set up a little surprise for him in the living room without him knowing. normally he'd drag you to bed with him, even at 8PM, but he was too exhausted to fight you on it. you'd decorated the living room with a few orange and gold balloons, a small vase of tiger lilies, and a present wrapped in orange paper with a black bow.

✩ he's not much of a sweet breakfast person, so you opt to cook his favorite eggs - soft scrambled with signature hot sauce over rice with some toast and black coffee. you're finishing cutting the scallions for the eggs when you hear katsuki's footsteps approaching from the hallway.

✩ katsuki sleepily stalks up behind you, rubbing his eyes as he wraps his arms around your waist and perches his chin on your shoulder. you turn to kiss his cheek and turn off the heat on the stove. "mornin' baby. wha'cha makin'?" his voice cracks, still in the process of waking up.

✩ "happy birthday, katsuki! made ya breakfast, go sit down." he obliges, squeezing your ass under the hoodie before retreating to the table. you drop the plate and coffee in front of him and sit in the seat next to him. "your favorites - eggs over rice with hot sauce, toast and coffee." he huffs with satisfaction before devouring every single bite off his plate.

✩ once breakfast is finished, you lead katsuki into the living room to open his gift. it's a brand new watch to replace the one he broke months ago - one he's had his eye on since it's release date. all black with gold accents, and on the back, it's engraved with "my number one hero."

✩ katsuki's not much of a party person, so you planned an extravagant dinner with friends instead. later that night, you take him to one of the fanciest places in the city. he's greeted with a table full of friends as a surprise - midoriya, kirishima, todoroki, uraraka, jiro, momo, kaminari, sero, and mina all yell a mish-mash of "happy birthday bakugo/bakubabe/bakubro/kacchan/katsuki!" everyone laughs as katsuki rubs the back of his neck, overwhelmed by the affection.

✩ two hours and plenty of laughs, food and wine later, you and katsuki return home with a handful of gift bags. you can tell he's relieved to be home, but the rose blush creeping up his neck from under his collar gives you a different hint at how he's feeling.

✩ katsuki's unrolling his sleeves and unbuttoning his dress shirt when you approach him, hand on his partially exposed chest. "come lay with me on the couch, i'll give you a massage," is all you need to say for him to follow you silently to the living room. you lay back on the couch, turning on the tv for mindless white noise while he lays face down against your stomach, arms draped around you.

✩ he can't help but groan in ecstasy when your nails scratch against his scalp, fluffing his blonde locks before your hands trail down his neck and to his shoulders. katsuki becomes putty in your hands, melting away any pent up stress in his muscles as you work your fingers through every knot.

✩ "feel good, baby?" you ask. a muffled 'mm' into your abdomen is katsuki's only response after a hefty sigh, his warm breath heating your skin through the fabric of your dress. his fingers lazily trace your sides and down to your thighs while you continue playing with his hair.

✩ you can tell by his mannerisms and the temperature of his skin that he's definitely tipsy, relishing in the toasty glow from the red wine at dinner. the restaurant gave you the remainder of the bottle to take home - enough for half a glass each. caressing his cheek and stroking the underside of his jaw like a cat, he rolls his head to the side to look up at you. "want me to run you a bath, kats? we can finish the wine together, light some candles, maybe some music to wind down for bed." he sits up and shifts to plant a messy kiss to your lips before whispering, "yeah."

✩ grabbing the bottle of wine, you head to the bathroom to set the scene. while the water was running, you'd grabbed a few candles from the closet and your bluetooth speaker, carefully placing them on the counter and leaving the bottle next to the tub. katsuki slinks to the doorway while you're lighting the last candle, ambient music faintly playing throughout the room. he saunters up to you, fingers immediately finding the zipper on your dress and tugging it down. you let the dress slip from your figure and fall to the floor, turning to unbuttoning his shirt and slacks in return.

✩ the two of you settle into the bath together, the sweltering water flushing your skin. katsuki reaches for the wine bottle, bringing it to his lips and letting a stream of liquid run down his chin, dripping down his neck and chest and into the water. without hesitation, you shimmy into his lap, running your tongue through the streams of wine, starting with his chest and ending under his jaw. he bites back the moan bubbling in his throat, the sensation of your tongue making him shiver in anticipation. "that's one way to share it," you purr, shifting to nibble on his earlobe.

✩ he grabs your hips under the water, pulling you flush against him as he dips his head into the crook of your neck, open mouthed kisses lingering over your collarbone and across your cleavage. his voice is low, a little slurred from his intoxicated state, hands roaming from your hips to your back. "you're so fuckin' beautiful, baby."

✩ you cradle his face in your hands, rubies gleaming up at you, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs before pressing your lips onto his, hands slinking around his neck and the water splashing between you as your chests touch. your tongues dance around each other's, the taste of red wine swirling on your taste buds. your hands wander up the back of his neck, playfully scratching at his hairline.

✩ you can feel katsuki stiffening beneath you, his cock tucked snuggly under your slit. you're hands are exploring his chest, submerging them under the water to trace your fingertips down his abs. he stops you, pulling back from your kiss with a pop and a huff. "y'don't...have to. i jus' wanna kiss and hold ya like this."

✩ your chest swells at the hearts in his eyes and how soft his features are under the rosy tint in his cheeks. you smile, pecking him on the nose. "whatever you want, babes. it's your day." you sink against him, laying your head against his chest. you can feel his chest rise and fall with a heavy sigh, cradling you as close as possible, stroking your back absentmindedly.

✩ he lays his head gently lying atop yours, soft snores accompanying the serene music in the room within minutes time. it never fails to make your heart grow three sizes anytime he falls asleep on you - the fact that you make him feel safe enough to doze off with his guard down. faintly, you squeeze his shoulder to wake him up. "let's get you to bed, kats."

✩ out of the bath, cleaned up and ready to pass out, you both flop under the cool covers. katsuki grips your hips and drags your body into his, wrapping his arms around your waist and entangling his legs with your own. his breath tickles your neck as he places multiple kisses to the back of it before settling his head on your shared pillow.

✩ you turn in his hold to face him. "happy birthday, love. i hope it was everything you wished for." katsuki scoffs, leaning forward to leave a long kiss to your plush lips. "'course it was. coulda sat inside all day with ya and it'd be enough."

✩ right after you turn back onto your side, katsuki leans close to the shell of your ear. "thank you, g'night sweets. you can fuck me in the morning." he snickers while laying back on the pillow, moving one of his hands to cup your breast playfully. you know full well it's staying there all night and drift off to sleep with a huff.

✩ the next morning, you stir awake before katsuki does. the sun from the bedroom window illuminates his flawless skin - he looks angelic, blissfully asleep. remembering his words from the night before, you begin to caress his thigh and up to his hip, slinking your hand under the waistband of his boxers. when your fingers gently glide over his shaft, his brows furrow and a grunt rumbles in his chest. his eyes flutter open when your fingers fully wrap around him, your touch featherlight against his sensitive skin. "good mornin' to you, too," he jokes, a hand coming to your jaw to pull you into a kiss with no hesitation.

✩ your grip tightens around his cock while your kiss grows passionate, a gravely moan spilling from katsuki between your lips. "fuck, baby..." he mumbles, breath already shallow from your touch. clothes are soon strewn across the floor and the sheets are a bundled mess while you both ravage one another.

✩ it's not long until your straddling katsuki's hips, sinking down on his dick until your soaked cunt sucks in every inch of him. his pecs and abs display the red scratch marks you've left, along with the pink bite marks on his collarbone. his face twists with pleasure, hands latched onto your hips as you bounce up and down in a steady rhythm. the way you moan coax out his own, his ferocious desire ramping up the volume of his whining the closer he came to release.

✩ katsuki lunges his upper body to meet yours, nipping at your lower lip to pull you down to the bed with him, not letting go of your hips as you increase your tempo. breathless i love yous are exchanged in the midst of your shared high, your hands finding purchase in his blonde locks. you tug on it roughly while he bites your lip again, one final grunt escaping him as you ride through his orgasm. your close to follow, but not before biting and sucking on his neck through his overstimulated cries while he claws at your back in euphoria.

✩ the afterglow is always your favorite part with katsuki, how his beautiful scarlet eyes twinkle with adoration and body fully relaxes. the way he wraps you up, holding you close as he peppers your hair, head, cheeks, nose, lips, neck and collarbone with kisses - it's electrifying. you lie there for a while before speaking up. "ready to go hiking now?" he laughs, wholeheartedly. "no fuckin' way. we're stayin' here until i say so."

⋆ ˚ʚɞ — happy birthday katsuki, you beautiful son of a bitch. my favorite explosive boy deserves to be spoiled & smothered with love. 💖🎀 🎆 tags; @slayfics @maddietries

[mxtxfanatic]

Wei Wuxian the Girls Girl

Usually in a danmei, I am used to seeing the main male characters only really interact with male characters. Even nameless background characters are more likely to be boys and men than girls and women (funnily enough, it's the opposite gender ratio in baihe). In mdzs, though, Wei Wuxian interacts with girls and women, and he interacts with them often! He knows how to put them at ease:

They wore bamboo baskets on their backs, linen shirts, and straw shoes; they had the rustic, earthy appearance of rural villagers from head to toe . Among them was an almost delicate and pretty young woman with a round face, who had perhaps walked under the harsh sun for too long and wanted to sit in the shade and drink some water. But when she saw the donkey tied to the tree, braying and stomping discontently, and the wild-haired lunatic with red and white pigment smeared all over his face sitting next to it, she became frightened and wouldn’t approach. Wei Wuxian had always considered himself protective and caring of women, so seeing her state, he moved to create space for her and went to bother the donkey. Only once the travellers saw he was harmless did they relax and come near. ... The cultivators had now rested enough and were preparing to take off. Before they left, the round-faced young woman took a half- green, half-red apple from the basket on her back and passed it to Wei Wuxian. “This is for you.”

—Chapt. 6: Pride I, fanyiyi

Some of the women were old and some were young, but all grew nervous when they saw an unfamiliar young man approaching and looked as though they wanted to toss aside their baskets and flee inside. Only after Wei Wuxian said a few smiling words did they gradually calm down and shyly reply to him. When he pointed at the slab of rock and asked a question, all of their faces turned uniformly pale, and only after a great deal of hesitation did they begin to answer him, stammering and gesticulating. All the while, they refused to look at Lan Wangji, who was standing near the stone, any more than necessary. Wei Wuxian listened attentively, one corner of his mouth uplifted the entire time. Once they were finished and the subject changed, the women returned to their original color, gradually relaxed, and smiled at him artlessly.

—Chapt. 33: Flora I, fanyiyi

He knows how to harmlessly charm (or annoy lol) them to get something out of them, but also repays the kindness:

As though he hadn’t just fought water ghosts and fled from the mouth of a watery abyss, he calmly and confidently shot flirtatious smiles at the river’s two shores. “Sisters, how much for half a kilo of loquats?” He was very young, and had a bright, dashing appearance that glowed with vitality and spirit: veritably a frolicking peach blossom chasing after the flow of the river. A smile bloomed on the face of a woman nearby, and she pulled up her bamboo hat. “Oh, you little charmer, how about I give you one free of charge?” The notes of Wu in her voice were pure, sweet and soft like sticky rice. From her lips sprang touching melodies, filling the ears of those who listened with fragrance. Wei Wuxian cupped his hands and said, “Naturally, anything Sister wishes to give to me, I want!” The woman reached into her basket and felt for a round golden loquat, which she tossed toward him. “No need to be polite. It’s for your good looks!” Swiftly, the boats sailed toward each other, the hulls brushing by as they passed. Wei Wuxian turned, caught the loquat head on and grinned. “You’re even more pretty!”

—Chapt. 17: Elegance VII, fanyiyi

When Lan Wangji lifted his head again, he even saw Wei Wuxian pull out something from his robes and give it to the woman who had spoken the most. ... “If you ask someone a lot of questions, you have to give them a gift to thank them for their trouble. Originally, I was going to give them some silver, but they got scared and didn’t want to take it. I found that they liked the smell of the rouge. They didn’t seem as though they’ve used that type of thing before, so I gave it to them.”

—Chapt. 33: Flora I, fanyiyi

Lan Jingyi waved his hand. “Quiet! What happened to Wei Wuxian? What did that devil do? Did he kidnap her?” he said urgently. “No, not that,” Lan Sizhui replied. “He specifically set off for Tanzhou from Yunmeng to see the Lady of Ephemerals. He came to the garden to recite poetry. But every time he did, he would intentionally make a mistake and provoke her into hitting him with a flower and throwing him out. When he woke up, he would crawl back in again and continue his loud and incorrect poetry recitation. After repeating this twenty or so times, he finally saw the lady’s face clearly. He then left and ran around singing praises to her beauty. But he had also angered her so much that she refused to come out for a long, long time. Every time she saw him, she pelted him with a blizzard of flowers—a truly stunning sight...”

—Chapt. 45: Beauty III, fanyiyi

Wei WuXian grinned, “I heard all of them call you MianMian, so I thought that it’s your name. What, it’s not?” ... MianMian’s cheeks flushed, “You can’t call me that!” Wei WuXian, “Why not? How about this: if you tell me your name, I won’t call you MianMian anymore. What do you think?” MianMian, “Why do I have to tell you just because you asked? Before you ask for somebody else’s name, you should tell them your name first, shouldn’t you?” Wei WuXian, “Sure, if you want my name. Remember, my name is ‘YuanDao’.” MianMian silently pronounced the name ‘YuanDao’ a few times. She couldn’t remember if the young master of any sect had such a name. But, judging from the boy’s air and appearance, she didn’t think he was the average disciple. Looking at the teasing smile at the corners of Wei WuXian’s lips, she didn’t know what was going on. Suddenly, Lan WangJi’s low voice came from beside them, “A play on words.” She realized at once that it had been taken from the poetry line ‘its ceaseless bounds yearn for miles and miles on’ and he was making fun of her. She stomped her feet in spite, “Who’s yearning for you? You have no face!” The girls collapsed into a laughing mess, chirping, “Wei WuXian, you really have no face!” “I’ve never seen someone as annoying as you!” “Let me tell you, she’s called...” MianMian dragged them away and turned to leave, “Let’s go, let’s go! You can’t tell it to him.” Wei WuXian shouted from behind, “You can go, but give me a sachet, won’t you?! You’re ignoring me? You don’t want to? If you don’t, I’ll find other people and ask for your name. There must be someone out there who’s willing to tell me...” Before he finished, a perfume sachet flew over from in front of him. It landed right in the middle of his chest.

—Chapt. 52: Courage, exr

The boys responded in the same way, before all nudging at Wei WuXian, “Shixiong, they’re calling you! They’re calling you!” Wei WuXian looked carefully. Indeed, the women had encountered them before while he was leading the group. His mood immediately lifted and he stood up to wave, grinning, “What’s up!?” The boat drifted alongside the water’s currents. The women followed it on the shore, chatting, You boys went to steal lotus seed pods again, didn’t you!?” ... As the two argued, another one of the women called out, “Was it good?” Wei WuXian managed to reply, “What?” The woman, “The watermelon we gave you. Was it good?” Wei WuXian realized, “So you were the ones who gave us the watermelon. It was delicious! Why didn’t you come in and sit? We could’ve poured you some tea!” The woman smiled, “You lot weren’t there when we visited, so we left without going in. I’m glad to hear it tasted good!” Wei WuXian, “Thank you!” He fished out a couple of big seed pods from the bottom of the boat, “Here are some lotus seed pods. Next time you visit, come me and watch me train!”

—Chapt. 125: Lotus Seed Pod Extra, exr

He even hangs out with them unprompted, specifically choosing their company in some cases:

Back in Yunmeng, many girls from the Jiang Clan had envied him because he was going to go study with Lan Wangji. They had said that the Gusu Lan Clan produced generation after generation of beautiful men, and that among his generation, the Twin Jades were uncommonly beautiful.

—Chapt. 14: Elegance IV, fanyiyi

Wei WuXian, “It’s me! Someone who does such a ridiculous thing has to be me. Where did you find the time to come to Yunmeng? If you’re not busy, come up here and have a drink?” A few girls encircled him, all cramped onto the divan, laughing at those down below, “Yeah, Young Master, come up here and have a drink!” The girls were the ones who tossed flowers at him earlier on. There was no need to say who was the person that told them to do such a thing.

—Chapt. 71: Departure, exr

Wei WuXian urged, “Then throw some! If you throw some this time, next time you can ask them if the seed pods tasted good, and you’ll be able to make conversation again!” The shidi were in awe, “So that’s why! What a lesson. You have so much experience with these things, Shixiong!” “You can tell he does this on a regular basis!”

—Chapt. 125: Lotus Seed Pod Extra, exr

And lest we forget his track record of protecting all of the good named female characters at some point or other during the course of the novel: Mianmian against Wang Lingjiao, Jiang Yanli against Jin Zixuan, and Wen Qing against the whole of the cultivation world. Truly a girls girl if ever I've seen one!

[thedivineden]

Purrfect

pairing: Shota Aizawa x Hybrid!Cat

genre: Fluff x Smut

words: 3k+

notes: coworkers, hybrid cat, car sex, choking, blood, biting, breeding, exhibitionism, voyeurism

Hybrids are a normal sight in U.A, there is nothing in particular that sets any of them apart. Except you, a new hire from overseas. The day you arrived, Hizashi was forcing Shota to the library, he knew for a fact once Shoto laid his eyes on you he’d be hooked.

Boy was he right.

You were a vision of perfection from head to toe. You were sitting with your legs crossed with your tail flicking behind you. Your excitement made his hands sweat and his ears hot. Your jewelry intensifying your already obvious beauty. You were sitting with your legs crossed with your tail flicking behind you.

He especially loved your black pointed ears adorned with silver and gold. When you stood up to greet the two men, Shota could hardly keep from reaching out to stroke your ears.

Hizashi was being his usual bubbly self, asking you questions about your quirk and what you used to do before coming a teacher at U.A. but Shoto couldn’t even muster up the courage to say hello. He hid behind his scarf trying to contain his face from turning red. “SHOTA MY MAN! WHY ARE YOU SO QUIET?!” Hizashi had knew what effect this would have on his poor friend and he was loving every minute of it.

“Hello, Welcome to U.A. hopefully you can be a competent addition to our team” Shota has regretted that statement since that day he’s met you. He noticed the grimace spread across your face morph into a half smile. Sweetly you responded “Nice to meet you gentlemen but I should really get back to work.” Making your way through the two men, especially Shota couldn’t help but watch you tail swish behind you accentuating your curvy figure.

After that day Shota didn’t see you for a week he would find himself walking past your office everyday. It wasn’t until his interest was subsiding did he see you in his classroom — his whole body felt like it was on fire, his eyes scanned your whole body starting at his favorite part. Your ears. The way they flicked while you read the roaster for the class calling his students out one by one made the front of his pants tight.

The rest of your body is just as perfect from your silky brown skin to your coily hair framing your adorable round face. Everything about you is intoxicating and Shota wants a taste. He finally musters to walk in the class to be greeted by the students but most importantly you. “Good Morning Mr.Aizawa, Principle Nezu assigned me to the wrong class. I ended up being placed with Mr. Hiro but I couldn’t understand a word he was saying.” You ended your statement with a small giggle which made Shota fall for you harder. Why did you have to be so damn cute.

Shota didn’t realize how much silenced until your friendly demeanor turned into a reserved one. Quickly getting himself together he laughs sharply at your response causing you to jump, some of the students to puzzled looks and some to giggle. You laugh nervously stepping out of his way allowing him to walk past you and sit at his desk. For the remainder of the day you were practically glued by his side, your proximity made him squirm. He couldn’t even focus on his students because whenever he heard you laugh or instruct one of them his eyes were glued on you.

However, once the students went to lunch you brought a chair right next to his desk and proceeded to bring out two bento boxes. “I made too much this morning and brought two. “Don’t mind the dog shaped rice ball I thought I was going to be with Mr.Hiro today” opening the bento box Shota couldn’t help but laugh at the awkwardly shaped rice balls. “Heyyy! What’s funny? I worked really hard on those!”

He placed a hand on your thigh giving it a gentle squeeze attempting to reassure you.

“I assure you these rice balls are perfect just like you.” He took note of the way your ears flattened and your tail wrap around you. Removing his hand he grabs the chopsticks inside of the box picking up the rice ball giving you a soft smile. During the entire lunch hour you and Shota sat in silence except for the praises he would give you on the various items you packed in the lunch box.

The next few weeks went the same, you would bring a chair over to his desk and give him a bento box full of food. Except, you two started talking more and the more Shota learned about you, the more he wished you were his. He started to notice the way your ears would flick and your tail would swish in his presence but remain content with everyone else. He makes you nervous and he plans to use that to his advantage.

“Miss? Can I bother you for a moment” there’s no way in the world that Shota could bother you and you were trying your hardest to make sure you didn’t tell him that. “Yes Mr. Aizawa? What can I assist you with?” He didn’t say another word before taking out a medium velvet box and opening it to reveal a necklace adorned diamonds along the collar with a diamond bell shining on the end.

Your heart tightened seeing the gorgeous item “It’s beautiful, Whoever this is for is very lucky!” your heart twinges. You thought over the past couple of weeks you and him were getting close. He could see your ears hang low and your tail wrap around you. “It’s for you.” he said this without looking you in the eye grabbing the chain. Shota stand up and comes close to you, unlatching the clasp and instructs you to turn around.

Obeying his command you feel him lean over you to wrap the piece of jewelry around your neck clasping it. His smell is overpowering and his proximity makes you dizzy. His hands move from the back of your neck caressing your shoulders gently. Finally making their way to your arms placing you in a firm grip. A small yelp emerges from you which pleases Shota — he brings you closer now wrapping his toned arms around you. His breath on your neck flusters you and makes your skin hot.

Closing your eyes in anticipation you ears start to flick, not only at Shota and the compromising situation you’re in but you can now also hear someone coming down the hall. Frantic you whisper to him “Shota! Shota! I think someone is coming!” Attempting to wiggle out his grasp only for him to grip you harder. He plants soft kisses where the jewelry is shining on your neck — the adrenaline and his kisses are making you weak and lightheaded.

“Try to relax darling” the sultry tone in is voice sent shivers up up your body making your tail fluff up. His teeth graze the side of your neck making your eyes close in anticipation. You can feel his lips change shape and his tongue trail up and down your neck. Nibbling each time attempting to savor this moment. Once he heard the bell Shota put a considerable distance between you two.

Not even a minute later his star student is opening the door instructing everyone to sit down. It felt like eyes were on you as you tried to defluff your tail. The remainder of the day you kept your distance from Shota and this pissed him off. You excused yourself to the bathroom ten minutes after the kids got back from lunch and haven’t been seen since.

Shota even sent a handful of his students to retrieve you from the restroom but each one came back with the same results. “She’s not in there Mr.Aizawa” he was beyond confused. Shota kept an eye out for you all day only when the day ended is when he saw you. There you were standing in front of the window of the teachers lounge, ears down, twisting and turning the bell adorned on your neck.

The sunset reflecting off of you made you look angelic. Shota couldn’t help but admire the slight crease that appears on your forehead every time the bell jingles. He adored looking at you and even when you were doing nothing, you found a way to be breathtaking.

You can feel a hand on the small of your back causing you to turn around and once again you’re in a enclosed space with your coworker. His other hand caresses the side of your face, using his fingers to tilt your head up. “I apologize. I never want to be the cause of your agitation.”

Staring into each other eyes makes your furrow increase and your cheeks burn. It felt like you were under his spell as his tired eyes bore into yours. He makes you shrink while also making you feel seen. “ I accept your apology but don’t you think this is a little inappropriate?” without batting an eye he replied with a firm no.

“Shota I’m not entirely sure what you want from me.” He didn’t say anything just held you in place, slowly closing the distance between you two. Carelessly you let him do it closing your eyes, your mind was racing you could only focus on the way he pulled you in. “Will you let me take you out?”

Opening your eyes you could see a slight tint on his cheeks. Surprisingly, enough you weren’t the only one that is nervous. “I would be delighted to go out with you Shota.” Leaning over slight he places a kiss on your cheek finally giving you your space. “We’re leaving together Friday. Don’t worry about going home, you look good in everything.”

He left without another word leaving you alone with your thoughts again. For the remainder of the week you two continued on as normal. As normal as two coworkers who spend their lunch tucked away in a classroom playing footsies and eating the lunch you each prepared for one another.

Even due to unforeseen circumstances you two managed to keep your distance until Friday. You made yourself scarce that day, attending meetings with principal and going around to assist other instructors. It wasn’t until the final bell rang and the halls were empty is when Shota finally laid his eyes on you.

There you were standing next to that window —instead of seeing agitation across your face, he could see anxiety and excitement bubbling up inside you. Shota didn’t even think about changing but wish he had once he laid his eyes on you. His eyes trailing up you body starting at the slender black heels you have on.

When eyeing your legs he couldn’t help but notice how soft and supple they look, he fantasizes about laying on them, massaging, and being buried in between them. Your pencil black skirt stops at your mid thigh which you meticulously paired with a silky dark green blouse. You were holding your tail delicately running your fingers through it. Everything about you made his body hot and his dick twitch.

What he wouldn’t give to run his fingers your tail and knead your ears until you purr for him. Once he stepped into the lounge your ears perk up making your head his way. “Good evening Shota, sorry I wasn’t there to exchange lunch with you!”

“It’s fine kitten! Let’s go, we’re going to be late for our showing” putting a hand on the small of you back he leads you all the way to his car door. For weeks you gushed to Shota about your love for black and white films and drive-in movies. He distinctly remembered the films you talked about the most, how you always wanted have a date there but never had the times because of school.

That’s when he realized what he loved about you the most. Watching you talk about something you love is like watching the sun come up. You were so excited telling him about the variety of films they had and how you’d always end up knowing how it ends. The entire time he observed you and your mannerism — the way your pupils expand and your ears flick, the sight of your tail feverishly swinging behind you. That’s why he wanted to do this for you, to see you like that because of him, to see how much he yearns for you.

The car ride there felt like you two were in the classroom again. Instead of footsies, Shota kept his hand on your thigh the entire ride and always giving in a squeeze whenever you two stopped. It wasn’t until you two arrived at Musutafu Park. Shota found a secluded corner near the screen so you be unseen by others and still be able to see the movie. “Let’s move to the backseat.”

Being the practical man he is, Shota opens his door to get out until he felt leg bump into his arm. Turning to look at you he gets a eyeful of your butt and a smack to the face with your tail as you climb in the backseat. He didn’t hesitate to close his door back and climb to the back with you. Shota made sure to prepare everything almost a replication of how you described it.

He had place blockers in the back windows so no one can see you two, snacks for you and him, and blankets draping the backseat. You didn’t say anything at first just silently admiring his effort and that’s when you see it. Tucked into the backs of candy is a flyer for a black and white movie showing ‘The Fated Lovers’. Scooting close to him you while stating “This is so sweet Shota! It’s perfect and they’re playing my favorite movie!”

He wouldn’t tell you that he paid the teen at the ticket booth to play your favorite. Instinctively he wraps his arm around you closing the distance between you two. Throughout the movie you two shared laughs towards the film and as usual Shota is asking questions about you. He wants to know everything about you down to the last minuscule detail.

You two got so lost in each other that you didn’t realize what scene is playing until you hear the sound of a woman moan. Turning your attention to the screen watching the escapade unfold. You watch as the two people fight for dominance with their mouths while ripping off each others clothes.

Shota is watching you like a hawk — he’s watching the way your ears flick and go low, he notices how your rapid tail movement slows down, and lastly he could feel how hot your body is. Your body is so reactive and it’s making it harder not to bend you over the console and fuck you.

He didn’t want to impose on you more than he already has. The feeling of your warm hand travel up his thigh shocks Shota in place. You stop short at the base of his cock squeezing the most inner part of his thigh. He jumps on you after this — entrapping you under him you can feel his hand roaming all over, he places a kiss on your supple lips before lightly sucking the bottoms of your lip.

Shota wants your consent verbally and non verbally. He wants to hear you give yourself to him while your body shows how much you want him. His kisses makes you feel juvenile, Shota is gentle but passionate. You two fight for dominance with your tongues — sucking, biting, and licking one another in between kisses.

Shota sees you’re ears rapidly flicking and he took the opportunity to knead them. You purr under him immediately making the bulge in his pants stiffen. Removing his lips and hands from you — he sits up looking straight at you he says, “Am I allowed to have you?” and without another word you sit up with him taking off your shirt and skirt.

“I want to hear you say it doll, say that I can have you”

You’ve never felt so exposed and seen at the same time. He stares at you with low eyes, admiring every part of you. “You can have me Shota, all of me..” He gently laid you back hovering over you once more. His hands knead at your sides as he leans towards your neck. Kissing and sucking Shota leaves a trail of saliva down your neck to your cushy v-line.

He didn’t waste anytime putting his hands under your knees pushing your legs out and forward to give him a full view of your soaking cunt. “It’s beautiful love.” He didn’t hesitate to bring his face close and drag his tongue through your folds. Between his stubble and his eagerness to devour you everything about him makes your core throb with excitement.

His tongue is precise and slow, everything he does makes your clit throb. You can feel the rough pads of his fingers touch your lip. His eyes are looking up at you like he’s commanding you with his gaze. Opening your mouth his rough pads slide past your lips massaging his finger with your saliva. Removing his slick coated fingers from your mouth, Shota tease your hole before slowly sliding one finger inside then another.

Your hips buck and tail fluffs at the insertion — Shota is watching your body closely, sucking and fingering your cunt just the way you like. You didn’t know what to focus on. His fingers made your cunt tighten and your heat build up. “Shota, please- go faster” he hummed in response gradually picking up pace. His tongue became more calculated in its movement and his fingers curled and pumped feverishly.

Your tail snapped around his neck pushing his face closer. The soft feeling of your fur on his neck made him moan into your heat causing you to release on his face. You jump up pushing Shota back — he couldn’t get a word in when hurriedly release his cock from his pants freeing his erection. You stare in awe at his long shaft, taking note of the significant girth he has. You can hear him clear his throat looking up at him you see the blush across his face “Did anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?

“I didn’t count you as the shy type Mr.Aizawa, Do I make you nervous?” You smile make his dick jump, hell everything about you makes his mind, heart, and dick throb. He doesn’t even realize he’s saying something before “You’re perfect” falls put of his mouth. Your eyes light up and before he can say anything else, your mouth is on his tip, swirling your tongue around the angry mushroom. Pretty moans from the man bless your ears and making your cunt throb.

He could barely keep his eyes open as you envelope your tongue around his shaft. His voice is low and whiny “You’re-you’re doing so great” — you hum in response the vibrations makes Shota buck his hips up. For a moment you choke taking everything in at once. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I couldn’t-“ you hum in response refusing to come up for air.

Your speed picks up, you can feel his legs shake and saliva coat your chin. He could see your hand wipe your chin and grasp his scrotum. The sensation of you deepthroating and massaging his testis is overwhelming. You hear him whimper, plea, and moan out for you. “Please kitten~ don’t stop.”

You can feel his member throb before he releases in your mouth. You don’t hesitate to swallow his nut coming face to face with him “Want to know how you taste?” Nodding his head up and down you use your tail to bring him close kissing him passionately. “I like the way you taste Shota, can I taste more of you” your eyes are full of lust he nods in agreement.

You climb on top of him coming close to his collar. He feels your tongue slide along his collarbone and up his neck. Opening your mouth you bite the side of his neck making sure to break the top layer of skin. Shota winces at the pain feeling his body swelter. “You taste so sweet. Let me make you feel good” you line your cunt to his tip and slowly descend on dick. You were teasing him now, you would start with his tip, and slowly slid to the middle of his shaft and bounce.

Shota could only take so much, your cunt was warm and soaking — he wanted nothing more than to slam into you and fuck you until his dick is numb. This is true bliss. All it took was for you to slam down fully taking him in for Shota to launch forward.

He wraps his arms around you to keep you in place, he looks up at you and smiles. “You’re being naughty now. Let me take over” you can feel his hips move achingly slow, he wants to savor this moment with you. “Shota~ faster..please” he wants to remember the feeling of you, how you smell, how you cunt feels convulsing around his member.

When picking up the pace he can feel you tightening around him. Wrapping your legs around him you’re able to match his rhythm. Your forehead meet his then your lips. Only the muffled sounds of moans and whimpers can be heard from you both. You two are ravaging each other and the smell of sex heavy in the air. He can feel your long nails dig into his back and your legs tighten around him.

“Be a good kitten for me, don’t bit me too hard” you can feel his rough hands grip your tail and pull it. You bite his bottom lip in response squirting on his lap. This doesn’t slow his pace, Shota continues to bully your cunt, hitting that sweet spot over, and over, and over. “Shotaaa~ I can’t- I can’t-“ letting go of your tail he places his hand on your neck holding you in place while he fucks you. The sound of the bell on your neck pushes him further.

His eyes never leave yours, you can see his resolve crumbling and his release approaching. Your moans were stifled but loud. He groans as he releases inside of you still keeping you close and your neck in place. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to be rough with you” he lets go of you noticing a large smile appear on your face. “I didn’t think you had it in you eraser head”

Even as you were getting dressed he is mesmerized. He could watch you all night and never get tired of you. “Aw we missed the movie.” even your pout is cute. He chuckles at your statement, putting his hand on your cheek he leans in and kisses you passionately. “I can bribe the kid at the front to play it again, just for us.” He didn’t even have to wait for your reply because your rapid tail movement said it all.

“Yes please!”

[anemptypuddingcup]

Beautiful inside & out.

Yamato x Female Reader Rewrite.

Yamato imagine original fic.

This goddamn fic needed a damn rewrite because I didn’t necessarily do the right research and ended up writing some sort of a cis-male Yamato fic. Might as well say it was a genderbent Yamato fic.

Contains: Fluffy and smutty! Trans Man Yamato! We love our big boy. Yamato has surgery scars. Yamato also has big sharp bottom teeth (Oni headcanon for Yamato). Yamato has a bit of stubble on his chin too. Size difference kink. Grinding and/or frottage. Multiple rounds. Yamato’s stamina is fucking godly in this- Overstimulation towards Reader. A nice and fluffy fic. Writing’s a bit sloppy and repetitive in this one.

The sun was shining its beautiful blood orange hue within the sky as it lingered to set on this hot yet beautiful fresh day. His hair was up high in a bun while his horns stuck out at the sides of his temple. His skin was tanned and super sun-kissed, mostly from staying out in the sun all day every day.

A heavy whine left him as he shuts his eyes and whimpered out loudly, desperate to just get out of this humid heat and go back inside the house where it would be just a tad bit cooler.

He was picking fresh vegetables from his garden, the pretty yet vibrant crisp colors making the vegetables look even more delicious than they already were. “I hope these are the best ones, didn’ she say she wanted sum fresher ones last time?” He quirks a brow and scratches his head as he stared at a bright and beautifully red tomato, trying to remember what you told him before he walked out of the house.

The heat was obviously making him a bit hazy if not dumber as he sat there in deep thought. His hand moves down from his temple and to his chin, scratching at the slight stubble he had running along it.

He shrugs and puts the vegetables he picked into the basket before slowly standing back up off his knees, a yawn leaving him as he stretched and smiled to himself. He stared down into the basket for a moment and nods happily, satisfied with the produce he’s picked out for you.

“Ahh, she’s gonna be so proud when she see’s these~”

♡ ♡ ♡

You hum out to yourself sweetly as you chopped at some potatoes, a little yawn leaving you as the summer’s heat made you all sticky yet tired. The hot heat had always drained your energy, especially around a time like this where you had to cook dinner. With the windows open and the scent of summer air, it was like a usual summer evening for both you and Yamato. One like any other would be.

And even though the sun was setting, the heat still stayed and lingered behind as if not wanting to leave and give your sweating body a break with cooling air.

Freshly washed rice was cooking in the rice steamer and diced vegetables were arranged along the counter alongside some seasonings. The aroma of freshly-brewed tea wafted throughout the kitchen which merged with the aroma of boiling curry cooking within a semi-small pot. You slowly slid the chopped vegetables into the pot and gave it a stir before putting the lid back on top.

You wiped at your sweating temple before standing onto your tip-toes to peer outside of the window.

“I hope Mato’s okay, he’s still hasn’t came inside yet…” You hummed to yourself, a slight worry spilling in your tone as you scratched at your head.

The sound of Yamato’s geta hitting the wooden floorboards of the steps had immediately alerted you, his heavy footsteps trailing up the steps and onto the back of the wooden porch. You hear him sigh out heavily while his hand slid open the screen door, a deep groan of exhaustion leaving him while he wiped the sweat from his brows.

He looks to you before smiling widely, his body stepping into the house and closing the door behind him before he ran over to you happily.

“Babes! I’ve got some fresh ones this time!” He beams, body slowly trailing over to yours as he watched you cook at the stove. You turn over to him and watched him crouch down to your height, your hand reaching out to touch his cheek while his face flushed all nervously at your touch. “They’re vibrant too! Thank you Yamato.” You praised and thanked him, a blush creeping across his face as he basked in your praise. He presses his hand softly against your head, feeling along the soft strands attached to your temple before he reaches down and presses a kiss to it.

You smile and giggle to him, mewling out as he began peppering smooches down to your cheek and then down along your neck. His sharp teeth pricked at your neck, tickling you yet at the same time giving a bit of a pleasurable feeling. “Mmgh~ M-Mato baby, I’m cooking!~” You giggles to him, shutting an eye at the arousing contact of his lips and teeth against your skin.

He whimpered before moving away from your neck, his body slowly standing up straight as he stared down at your smaller and cuter frame. He stared at you for a moment before noticing how slightly pale your face had looked. His brows furrowed in slight curiosity as he stared at your face for a moment before humming out.

“Are…Are you okay babes? You look a little…”

“I’m just a bit hot is all. I’m gonna be alright though Mato.”

“Hmmph…I guess if you say so…”

You giggled and froze as you heard the rice steamer go off, the sound catching you off guard and and making your eyes widen in slight surprise. “Mato love, can you get the rice out of the rice cooker for me? I’m almost done so I just need you to get that.” You asked him, stirring at the curry while he loomed over the stove and watched you. He slide his hand beneath his crop-top to scratch at his chest before nodding to you, a yawn leaving him before he hums out.

“Of course babes! I’ll get it f’ya.” He responded, his large footsteps trailing away from your smaller body and to the other side of the counter. You hum to yourself as Yamato opened the rice steamer and took the rice out, a hungry hum leaving his throat as he got that whiff of seasoned rice.

Yamato carefully opened the top cabinet to get some plates and pulls two out before he put even portions onto each plate. He peers over his shoulder to see you pulling the top off of the pot and tasting the curry before nodding to yourself, making sure it had tasted alright for both you and him. He pouts to himself and hesitated to ask but he mustered up the courage to turn around to you and ask his question. “Hey babes, is it alright if I get…more rice an’ curry?” He asked politely, not wanting to sound unfair but having a rather larger appetite. You hum out to him before you smiled and nodded in response.

“Of course Yamato! A big man needs a big meal right? Take as much as you’d like, I’m not going to eat much tonight anyways.” You accepted, allowing him to eat more than you while .

Yamato quirks a brow to you before throwing another big spoonful of rice onto his plate and picking up both his plate and yours from the counter. His hands held the platters steadily while he walked over to you with heavy yet balanced steps.

“Why not? Ain’t ya hungry after a long day burnin’ up in th’sun all day? It was pretty hot out there today.” He asked, giving you a bit of a worried look while he handed you the plates and watched you pour curry onto them.

“I’m just…not feeling as hungry I guess.” You responded, a sigh leaving you as you look up to him and handed his plate to him. Yamato pouts down to you and presses a smooch to your cheek to try and cheer you up. He takes your plate from your small hand and smiles as he walked off towards the doorway of the kitchen. “I’ll be waitin’ for ya in the front room, I’ll take ya plate in there f’ya too.” He says, quirking a bit of a worried smile before walks back to pepper another smooch to your temple. You chuckled and watched him walk away again and listened as his footsteps slowly vanish out of the kitchen and fade out into the hallway.

You could tell he was worried for you, as much as you’ve been doing all day he assumed that you would’ve worked up quite the appetite for it. However that wasn’t necessarily the case for you. Yes you were tired but…not very hungry unlike Yamato himself, but that’s what bothered him.

You take off the kettle off the stove and turned it off before you poured tea into the two teacups, your lips blowing air onto the tear to cool it off just a smidge. You slowly set them onto a little tray and taking them into the living room, your steps steady and slow as you walked down the hallway.

♡ ♡ ♡

Yamato had already blessed the food for you both, and he watched as you took small bites while he was practically scarfing his food down as if he was starved. While he was chewing, he started speaking to you, his hand covering his mouth as his lips had parted with his mouth still stuffed.

“Hey babes, I got a question f’ya.”

“Yes Yamato?”

“Will you ever get tired of me and…um…my size?”

“Eh?-“

“Like…D’ya ever worry ‘bout me ever hurtin’ ya? I mean…really. What if I hurt ya and don’ mean to?”

You paused for a moment and stopped chewing your food before looking up into his eyes, your eyes flickering to him before you sighed out. You swallowed your bite and giggled before you reach your hands out to cup his face, your thumbs running along the softness of his cheeks.

“Mato…I don’t ever worry about you hurting me because I know you won’t. Yes, you’re a big and strong man…but that’s exactly what I love about you~ You’re so big and so unique baby…”

You stare up into his beautiful amber eyes, watching them glisten and glimmer with love deep his heart. You wipe the small grain of rice from his cheek and he smiles so beautifully to you, his cheeks flushed as he processed your words deep within his mind.

He wraps his arms around your smaller frame and pulls you close before he press his lips against yours. His teeth bumped up against your temple and gave you that same sense of pleasure you’ve felt countless times before. You hum out to him lovingly and wrap your arms around his neck before pulling away. “Matooo, can’t we finish eating dinner first?~ Weren’t you so hungry earlier?” You teased, your fingers teasing at his ruby-red horns while he mewled out.

He huffs out and presses his hands to your shoulders, his eyes pouting to you while you blink to him. Admittedly, he was still a little negative and unsure with your words and he didn’t know whether he wanted to believe you or allow his stubborn mind to play at himself.

“Can…Can we make love tonight? I just wanna…I wanna stop thinkin’ this way! Reassure me! Make me think otherwise!” He pouts to you, a little whimper leaving him as he stared down at you with intensity. You stared up at him blankly before sighing out, your body shuddered at his tone while your heart began to pound out of your chest.

You blink softly to yourself before smiling to him, your hands cupping his face once again before you’d pepper a smooch to his temple and his horns. His eyes widens as he flinched from the sudden kiss to his horns, his hand nearly knocking his tea over as he stared down at you.

“You always know how to get me going, don’t you?~” You giggled, fluttering your lashes to him while he chuckles nervously in response. “If you want to we can, I’d love to make love with you any night~” You say all seductively, wrapping your arms around his neck while he held you closer to his body. His eyes softened up at your contact before he watched you pull away from him.

“I’m finished eating anyways, I’ll go freshen up for tonight. My body is so sticky from this heat we’ve been dealing with all day today..” You sighed out, staring up at him from below on his lap while he nods and grabs his plate which was nearly clean.

“O-Okay, I’ll take these for ya then.” He says, reaching out and grabbing your plate before he place it beneath his own. You smiled and hand him the teacups as well before climbing up off of his body, watching as his body slowly rose and stood up before he’d walk out of the living room. “Thank you, Mato..” You whispered, causing him to turn back around and smile to you before he walked far out into the hallway.

You huff out before standing up off of the floor, a groan leaving you as you stretched and walked out of the living room and down the hallway into your shared bedroom. The sound of your footsteps had him all giddy and ecstatic, he was already excited and couldn’t contain himself for very long.

“Man…I love ‘er s’much~ She’s s’perfect for me~” He sighed all lovingly, his cheeks reddening while his body grew hot yet full with love.

Regardless if he was a big man who had negative thoughts, you’d always wash ‘em away with your soft sweet voice filled with reassurance and acceptance. Though part of him couldn’t help but to be stubborn sometimes when it came to things like this. He was happy that you loved him for him, he felt like he could be free with his flaws freely without anyone complaining or picking at him for his imperfections or indifferences of his.

And yet, part of him still couldn’t help but to worry if he would really hurt you accidentally one day. His thoughts makes his walking come to a halt and he paused at the kitchen doorway before he stared down at the empty tea cups and dirty plates in his hand.

“Maybe…Maybe she’ll reassure my thoughts…with her love. I don’ need t’be worryin’ myself over somethin’ I know is just my own facade.”

He chuckles to himself at his pesky negative thoughts and walks over to the sink, getting down onto his knees before he’s softly set the dishes in the warm soapy water.

He hummed out to himself while shook his hips to the tune, cleaning and washing up the dishes while he looked out the window and stared up at the moon. He smirks to himself as he rinsed the soapy dishes out before setting them on the drying rack and washing his hands clean of any extra germs that lingered in his hands.

He closed the blinds to the window before he stood up on his own two feet and walked out of the kitchen, his hand flicking off the light switch as behind him as he walked out.

♡ ♡ ♡

“Baby? Everythin’ alright in there?” He called out, his hand reaching out to the doorknob before he slide the shoji door open. His eyes flicked up before they widened and blinked blankly, his amber eyes staring at your naked back while he watched you slowly look over your shoulder to look at him.

“Hm?~ You wanted to do something tonight didn’t you Yamato?”

“I-I didn’ think- U-Um-“

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous Yamato~”

His face burns a deep shade of red as he pouts and walks into the bedroom, his hand shutting the door behind himself. “M-Me? Nervous!? Ya must be jokin’!” He responded loudly, a laugh leaving him as he tried to hide his nervousness from you.

“Don’t be scared Yamato, you aren’t going to hurt me baby~ I promise you.” You say, turning over onto your tummy while you lifted and moved your forelegs back and forth. Yamato gulps before pulling off his crop top and slipping off his joggers, leaving him in nothing but his boxers while he began to grow sweaty from his own nervousness.

“F-Fine…Just lemme bathe first.” He sighed out, his hand pulling at his hair tie before he’d loosened his bun completely, allowing his stands to fall freely along his back.

You chuckled and nodded in response, teasing him with your body while he growled out nervously in response. “I’ll be waiting for you then, Yamato~” You hum out to him, your tone of voice teasing and making him blush deeply as he walked into the bathroom and slowly closed the door behind himself.

You sigh out and look away from the door before sitting there in silence, your hands teasing at your body while you waited for Yamato to finish showering.

♡ ♡ ♡

“Oi, m’finished showerin’~ Now what is it that ya wanted t’do?-“ Yamato slowly walks out of the bathroom, his hands still running the towel through his snow white strands as he stepped into your shared bedroom. You slowly sit up and turn over to him before smiling, watching as he continued to dry up his dampened hair well enough. He lands his amber eyes onto you and smiles, his hands throwing the towel onto the floor before he’d jump straight onto your shared bed.

You yelp out in response and bounce up a bit from Yamato’s larger stature hitting your shared bed. You giggle to him, his larger hands reaching out and picking you up before pulling you closer to him.

“Hi babes~”

“Hi Yamato~”

He chuckled before pressing his lips against yours, a mewl leaving him as his tongue slid past your lips so impatiently. You hum out all sweetly against his lips and wrap your arms around his neck, your hands rubbing against his soft pretty strands alongside his smooth yet roughed-up skin.

His hands ran up along your back, a groan leaving him as he pulls away from your lips and pressed them back against yours again. His hand slid down in between your legs and began playing at your slit, his fingertips running against your cunt making you gasp out shakily while you gripped his shoulders tighly.

“Already sticky down ‘ere I see~” He gasps out, pulling away from your lips while his fingers played with your slit. You mewl out at the feeling of his thick fingers running along your pussy. “Of course I am~ I’m excited to feel your body against mine after so long~ I’m surprised you wanted convincing on how much I really trust you…” You say nervously, your thighs squeezing together against his hand while you stared up at him with your nervous little eyes.

“I always need convincin’, how else will I ever know that ya genuinely love me for me? No one would want to be with someone as…big and grizzly as myself…”

“Come on baby…I would. I am with you! Why else would I be with you other than for yourself baby?” You asked him, your question causing his brows to raise in response while he grows quiet. He blushes and turns away from you before sighing out, now realizing that once again his mind was playing with him and just making him more worrisome.

“I already told you that I love your body Yamato. Not just your body, I love everything about you just like how you love everything about me.” You continued, your hand running down between your legs and running against the soft skin of his fingers. He squeaks out at your contact and he stared down into your eyes while you look back up into his.

“You love everything about me, right? That’s why you’re with me isn’t it?” You asked him nervously, tilting your head while you gave him an unsure look. His eyes widens in response and he immediately nodded without a second thought.

“H-Hell yeah I do! I wouldn’ be with ya otherwise if I wasn’ so sure…” He yells out in nervousness, not wanting to make it seem like he didn’t love you when he obviously did.

“Well that’s how I feel about you baby, you can always be confident that I’ll love you no matter what happens.” You say smiling to him, your words flattering him and making his heart flutter and skip a beat.

He hugs you tightly and gives you a loving smooch before pulling away, a lovable sigh spilling past his lips as he stared down into your eyes.

“God, lemme fuck ya~ All this sweet talkin’ got me soakin’ f’ya~”

“Please fuck me good Yamato~ Prove to me that you feel the same for me as I do for you.”

“I…I will baby. I will…”

♡ ♡ ♡

Yamato grabs your hips and presses his pussy up against yours, a soft sigh leaving him as his clit smooches up against yours. You let out a soft moan and trembled against him, staring down at his cunt while he stared into your pretty eyes. He adored how small you were beneath him, dominating your smaller body was so easy for him to accomplish. He loved how your body would squirm beneath him, the bigger he was the more pleasure he could feed your body.

“Ya ready?~” He asked teasingly, his lips curling up into a smirk while you look up into his eyes. You nodded softly and smiled, giving him the permission to start moving his hips against yours while you watched from below. You gasp out suddenly and watched as he began rocking his hips into yours, a groan leaving him as he felt your sticky slick running along his pussy.

“God ya s’fuckin’ wet baby~ Makin’ my pussy feel real good like this~” He groans outs, his hands pressing against either side of you while he stared down at your body already melting for him. You blushed deeply and bit your bottom lip, staring up at him while you sigh and gasp out shakily in response.

He chuckles and sits up a bit before grinding his hips a bit faster, his face wincing just a bit out of pleasure while he lets out a moan of ecstasy. He watched as you moan out for him, biting your bottom lip while he fucks your pussy all needily. “Ahhh~ Y-Yamato~ I-It feels s’good~” You moan out all sweetly to him, your brows furling as you watched him slide and grind his pussy all up against yours.

“Ahh~ I’m g-glad it does~ Ya better get ready cuz m’gonna make sure ya feel all of my love!~” He hums out, licking his lips while his hands began playing at your breasts. You huff out shakily to him as your body began to rock a bit hard, with Yamato’s hips going at an immaculate pace while his grinding was steady and rhythmic.

You arch your back and hiss out shakily, looking up to Yamato while he bends down and gives you a deepened kiss. “Mmh~ Ya gonna feel my love baby~ M’gonna make ya feel it, god m’gonna make ya feel s’good~” He gasps out shakily, throwing his head back while he propped himself up on his hands.

You let out angelic moans as he grinds up against you harder and faster against your cunt, your hands gripping the sheets tightly while you moan out and threw your head back. “Oh Yamato~ Y-Yamato I-I’m gonna cum soon~” You whined, your face scrunching up as you slowly lied back onto your fluffy pillows.

Yamato chuckles and grips one of your legs before going a bit faster, causing you to gasp and moan out beneath him while he fucked you so easily. “Cmon then babes~ I wanna feel ya squirtin’ on m’pussy~ Cmonnn~” He mewls out shakily, his breaths growing heavy while he played at his clit teasingly in front of you.

You whined out and press your head to your temple before moaning out loudly, your hands reaching out for his while he chuckled and reached out to you. “Fuck fuck- Y-Yamato!~ Oh god, Yamato!~” His hands waffled with yours and he watched as you unfurled beneath him, a heavy yet loud gasp erupting past your lips as you squirt out onto his pussy against yours. He hissed out and runs his thumb along your clit, trying to help ride your high out while he continued to grind against your cunt.

You whine out shakily as you yearned for him to stop and give you a second to breathe, but he didn’t and your body didn’t necessarily want him to. “Fuck ya so cute like that babes!~ S’fuckin’ adorable an’ needy~” He hums, his lips pressing a smooch to yours while his hips didn’t halt for a second. You whine out shakily, realizing that he wasn’t stopping regardless if you’d just came.

“Cmon baby, that was just th’first round! I haven’t even came yet!” He says playfully, giving you a little smile while you whined out to him in response. “P-Please Yamato~ I-I just c-came~” You whined out to him, a bit of years pricking at eyes as you pouted to him. Yamato chuckled mischievously and looks down at you with a glint in his eyes.

“No no baby…Ya just lay right there. I’m gonna fuck ya pussy and make ya cum even more!~” He says darkly, his tongue trailing across his lips as he finished his sentence. You breathe out shakily and stare up at him before whimpering in response, a bit excited yet nervous to see how rough he’ll go on you.

♡ ♡ ♡

“W-Wait!~ A-Ah!- S-Slow down Y-Yamato!~”

“Nah! I ain’ slowin’ down for nun’! I wanna show ya how much I love ya! How much I love this fuckin’ body of yours!”

You gasp out shakily and held on tight to your pillow, a heavy whine leaving you while tears rolled down your face and drool spilled past your lips. Yamato was breathing heavily above you, his hand gripping your thigh and keeping it up while he ran his pussy up against yours so vigorously and yet so hard.

Both of your pussies were all sticky with slick and cum, yet Yamato was still full of energy as if he hadn’t came three times already. Your mind was practically melting at this point and Yamato was absolutely loving how you looked crumbling beneath him.

Groans left his lips as he got a good look at your adorably sticky face, his smile growing wide as he stared down at you melting beneath his body. He watched your breasts bounce with every movement he took rocking his hips against yours, a handful of moans leaving your lips like a sweet angelic song.

“M-M’gonna cum a-again, Yamato~” You whimpered out loudly yet shakily to him, your eyes shutting softly as your lied your head back in sweet arousal. “Aww again? Ya so sensitive ain’cha?” He teased, a little snicker leaving him as he smiled down at your broken little state. You sigh out heavily yet weakly, begging him to give you a break with the press of your hand against his chest.

His brows raise in response and he smiles and bends over your, hovering over your body. His smirk grows into a wide smile as he smooched your lips, grinding his hips harder before he began to gasp out. “Fuck, m’close again~ I know ya wanna cum to so I’ll let ya~” He whispered to you, his hips beginning to go faster against yours while you let out a broken moan.

You groan out heavily and pull him close, your moans all soft and broken as your pussy fluttered against his. You let out a silent moan as you threw your head back, your pussy gushing all over his while he sighs out shakily. He chuckled before gasping out, his temple against yours as he breathed heavily against your lips.

His body shudders and he lets out a heavy growl, his body shuddering against yours as he squirts out into your pussy and lower abdomen. He humps you a few more time before he stopped completely, a hum leaving his lips as he looked down at you who was all fucked out and drooling.

He giggles and gives you another sticky smooch before slowly pulling himself off of you, a string of cum and slick disconnecting from both of your pussies. He sets himself down beside you and pulled you up into his arms, his arms cradling you as if you were a precious gem in his delicate hands.

“Did I….Did I do good ‘nough for ya babes…?”

You lied there unresponsive for a bit, causing him to move in closer to you before you looked into his eyes and smiled to him.

“Y-Yes baby~ Y-You did m-more than enough~” You responded a bit afterwards, huffing out as he sat there and stared down into your eyes. He slowly spreads out and lies down onto your shared bed, his arms resting you beside him while he lied down and spooned your smaller body inside of his.

“I-I t-told you~ I-I would l-love you no m-matter what~” You sigh out, your tone broken yet loving and caring for Yamato while he gave you the slightest look of worry.

“I-I know babes, but…are ya okay?”

“I’m f-fineeee~” You giggles to him, your fingers tickling at your chin while you felt his slight bit of scruff scratching at your fingers.

He sighs out and rests his head in his hand, his eyes watching as your slowly closed unconsciously out of exhaustion. He giggled a bit before pressing a smooth against your temple.

“I love you like how you love me babes…”

[bravo4iscool]

As someone who is chubby and short af (I am 4'10" (147cm, please end my suffering and hand me that mug from the top shelf) can I get the 141 bois (or just Simon and Price) with a short!chubby!femreader?

as my first official request: YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND AHHHHHH. i wrote something for ghost and price hehehe…

i hope you like this :))

(masterlist)

Simon “Ghost” Riley

“Simon,” you almost yell through the kitchen. You’re on tippy toes, trying to reach for that one mug but it was just out of your reach.

You huff, giving up and start to nervously tap your fingers against the counter. “Simon,” you call for him again and suddenly a pair of arms wrap around your stomach.

You shriek, flinching at the sudden touch. “What’s it lovie?” he asks, amusement clear in his voice. He presses a gentle kiss to your neck.

“Can you hand me that mug,” you clear your throat, trying to hard not to get flustered. He knew how he was able to throw you off at any moment.

“What mug?” he asks, his hands leaving your waist, wandering down to grab your hips.

“That one,” you tell him, your finger pointing into its direction. “I need it so measure the rice,” you explain to your boyfriend, turning around to face him.

He smirks down at you while his arm reaches for that damn mug, caging you in against the counter. You swallow. Shit, he had power over you…

Simon places the mug besides you, that shit eating smirk not leaving his face. You raise your eyebrow, more than aware of the fact that he was planning something.

And then he lifts you up, his hands wrapping around your thighs with ease. You wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself and let out a yelp.

“Simon!” you then scowl at him. “I told you not to pick me up!” He places you on top of the counter and pulls you in for a kiss before answering your question.

“I know. I don’t care,” he mumbles, his mouth trailing down your neck, his hands playing with the hem of the shirt you were wearing—his shirt.

“I’m heavy Si,” you say in a pressed voice, well aware of your weight at that moment. “You could hurt yourself,” you continue but he stops kissing your neck and looks in your eyes.

“Ya ain’t heavy t’ me.” He slightly tilts his head, confused by your statement. “‘nd I ain’t gon’ injure myself fr’m carryin’ ya.” He pulls you in for another kiss.

He knew your insecurities and he wanted to do his best to take them away from you. He even started training with heavier weights in the gym to be able to hold and carry you.

He ain’t gonna let you walk around like you weren’t his one and only love and girlfriend. You deserved to be spoiled, just like any other girlfriend or wife.

You want to open your mouth to say something but he silences you with another kiss. “Y’know what?” he humbles. “Gon’ carry ya ‘round the flat just t’ prove ya wrong.”

You wanted to complain but he didn’t let you. He picked you up again, urging your legs to wrap around his waist and then he left the kitchen.

He would show you that any man could, if he wanted to.

John Price

“Hey Sweetheart,” John mumbles as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

You sit on the couch, legs tugged under your body. “Hi,” you return the kiss, your hand immediately finding its way to his cheek.

“How was work?” you ask in a gentle voice as he sits down beside you and leans against your body. You start playing with his hair and he lets out a satisfied hum.

“Though,” he mumbles, his eyes closed already. “How was yours?” he then asks in return while his hand finds the way onto your thigh. He starts to gently caress it with his thumb.

You purse your lips before you answer. You promised you’d be honest with him. “Been getting some dumb comments again,” you quickly say, hoping he’d just take it but you already knew he wouldn’t.

No matter what, John always defended you and told you to ignore what other people told you.

You normally tried to take that advice but life was hard as a plus-sized woman, who was also short. You practically got shit from everyone.

“Don’t listen to them, Sweetheart!” John immediately tells you, his grip on your thigh slightly fastening. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

You let out a small chuckle at his enthusiasm. “You think so?”

He huffs, turning his head to look up at you. “I don’t think. I know. You’re my wife for a reason, no?” He starts to smirk as he leans up to kiss you.

You deepen the kiss and before you can even blink he pulls you into his lap, your legs on either side of his hips.

“Am gonna suffocate you,” you mumble between kisses as his hands wander to your hips to squeeze them.

“Bullshit,” he breathes out, pulling your hips down so you’re really sitting on his laps. “I’m a grown man. You ain’t gonna hurt me with anything.”

You grin into the kiss, pulling his closer to you with your arms around his neck. “Have I ever told you I love you?” you ask him after ending the kiss, leaning your forehead against his.

“Everyday…” he whispers, hugging your close. “And everyday I find myself loving you more than the day before…”

[saerins]

⋆୨ prologue ୧˚ all see through, just like glass

⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ next: chapter one - thorns without flowers, bars with no drinks ୧˚

⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?

ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 1.6k | ೀ content warnings: modern au, rich!reader & rich!sae, fluff/angst, swearing, somewhat boys being boys, manipulation/gaslighting, bad parents, yn has a sister here but won’t be mentioned too much !

i. y/n

“Don’t be so overly emotional, sweetheart. Isn’t this absolutely perfect for you?”

“You’re saying no? Can’t believe you’d say that… you know if you don’t do this you’re only damning your little sister instead, right?”

“Sweetie, we are listening to you. But don’t you think we would know what’s best for you? We’re only criticising you because we love you.”

Marriage; a concept you’d been familiar with since young, way back when you had a dream to marry your one and only Prince Charming—someone who’d appear one day and completely sweep you off your feet. Five year olds are silly like that. You’d believe in Prince Charming and fairytale endings and that two people in love would always work things out.

Being the daughter of a very successful businessman, a lot of things were given to you as a child. You never had to ask for toys, or books, or anything at all. Your father would ensure your material needs were well taken care of, and your mother would ensure you’re pampered from head to toe, buying you designer assets and making sure you look the best you can at each instance.

Life in the upper echelon is mostly desirable; the privileges are apparent, the favouritism rampant. You’re grateful for what you have, but there’s a small ball of thought inside you that wishes for your parents not to see you as a product, but as their child. Most of the people you had met had absolutely zero problems with their upbringing, perfectly content with being handed everything on a silver plate.

Most people except Mikage Reo, your best friend since the fourth grade. He hated having his life dictated for him too, and you both found common ground in that. Ever since then, you’d both been close as ever.

“Wait wait wait,” he nearly chokes on his rice, the disbelief in his tone overwhelming, an eyebrow cocked as his fringe falls over his left eye. “Repeat that again.”

A small sigh escapes your lips, your fork poking against the rice in your bowl, any form of appetite you had earlier being sucked out just by revisiting the topic. “It’s an arranged marriage.”

Reo appears unamused, but he restrains himself from commenting too much negativity. “And… what did you say?”

That’s why he’s a good friend—he feels you out first before filtering what he needs to say. He’ll still speak his mind, but depending on your decision, he’ll choose his words carefully.

You’ve always been eternally grateful for his presence. It calms you down, that sense of comfort irreplaceable. You know that if you ever really screw anything up that bad, you’ll have him—and really, that’s enough for you. Out of everything you have, you think this friendship’s probably the most precious one.

“The wedding’s in a couple months,” you half-answer, deciding to stop playing with your food and putting your fork down. The clang of the metal hitting the marble-top table is the last sound you hear for a while before Reo clears his throat.

Before Reo can get any words out, you interject. “The guy said yes too, apparently.”

Now he chokes on his rice.

You slide the glass of water across the table and Reo chugs it down, water trickling down the sides of his lips at his urgency. “How the fuck did your parents get Itoshi Sae of all people to say yes?”

Itoshi Sae. The name of your to-be husband. You know him as much as what you can search online. Twenty-five this year. No hobbies but it’s rumoured he’s good in soccer. He’s a lot like you when it comes to status and standing in the business world—the kid of successful self-made parents who everyone in your immediate circle automatically expects good things from. The pressure to perform and become someone of note since birth is probably something you both share. Except, maybe, Itoshi Sae looks like he’s a lot less obedient than you are. He looks like he’s more rebellious than not, and that’s why you wonder if he has any hidden agendas by agreeing to this business arrangement.

You know why you’re agreeing.

“Seriously, we raised this child and yet she’s so ungrateful!”

“Y/N, you know if you don’t do this then he’s just going to force this on your little sister, right?”

How can you let that slide as a big sister? Especially when your little sister is perfectly happy in a long-term relationship? Unfortunately, threatening their children isn’t below your parents.

Even when you revisit the conversation in your head, your mother’s faux concern is nauseating. She’s always been that way; everything your father says goes and she doesn’t offer much else other than what he expects of her. Maybe that’s why you grew up to be this way.

Shrugging, you turn your attention back to Reo, a small pout forming on your lips. “You know my dad. He’s always been good at talking.”

“What about you though? Are you really okay with this?”

At this point, Reo’s the only one who’s genuinely concerned for you. Maybe because he knows about all your childish dreams about finding The One. While you appreciate his concern, you brush it off.

“Yeah, I mean, how bad could things possibly get with Sae?”

Reo’s eyebrows show he’s not convinced, but he doesn’t say more.

“I’ll be fine, Reo, promise.”

You’ll just have to win Itoshi Sae over. Even if it’s hard, you’re determined to try and make the most of it. It won’t be that bad if you work hard on it… right?

ii. itoshi sae

“Either do this, or I’ll get Rin instead. It’ll be a pain, but don’t think I won’t do it.”

“Honey! Stop speaking like that… Sae, please try to understand, this will be a huge opportunity. It’s the least you owe us, hm?”

“You lost your shot, do you want Rin to lose his too?”

“If you don’t want her, I'll take her.”

“Go ahead.”

Sae’s completely tuned out of the conversation, the thoughts of his upcoming wedding filling his head. Now that everything’s settled between yours and his parents, it’s really kicking in that fuck, did he really let them dictate his love life like that?

“She’s pretty hot, though. I think she’s just a year younger than you?” Oliver’s scrolling through your Instagram—typical behaviour from his end. The moment Sae told them your name, it took only half a minute for Oliver and Otoya to find your online presence.

L/N Y/N. He’s always heard of you. Your name constantly leaves his parents’ mouths, ever since he was a kid. Apparently, your parents and his have been tight since high school. Sae is sceptical about the relationship, though. Nothing is ever that plain and simple between rich families. There must be a reason Sae’s never personally seen you, after all, despite his parents claiming to have a good relationship with yours.

“What the fuck’s going through their heads?”

And by that, Sae assumes that Otoya means his parents. If that’s the case, Sae has long decided he’s given up trying to understand what goes on in their heads—but if he had to guess, it’s probably all because of a simple business deal.

Having their kids wed each other would mean that one of them is absorbing the other. A little side knowledge that Sae doesn’t care for, so he only shrugs in response.

“Aw, little Sae is growing up,” Oliver sneers, earning a snicker from Otoya and a middle finger from Sae himself.

Otoya eggs him on, adding to the fire. “Yeah, to think that the guy who only ever dated once in his whole fucking life is the one getting married first,” he comments, eyes gazing to the side in deep thought, “what was her name again? Mirin?”

“Oh fuck, yeah I forgot about her,” Oliver exclaims, smirking at Sae. “First love type shit, right?”

Sae rolls his eyes, ignoring him, forcing him to change the subject.

“Shit, didn’t think you were the kind to ever say yes though,” Oliver remarks, eyes still glued onto the screen, likely still scrolling through your posts.

Oliver’s standards are quite high. Are you really that pretty? Sae’s never actually seen what you look like.

“I’m not fucking marrying her. I don’t even know her.”

“Maybe we should just pull Rin out then, get him to come back here and handle all this.”

“Sae, be a good boy and listen to us, okay? How about this—if it ever gets too bad, we’ll look into a divorce in the future, hm?”

As if he believes that. His parents are insufferable. There’s no point in ranting to this group though, so Sae brushes it off.

“Not like I care about this marriage shit,” he leans back, an air of nonchalance around him. “I’ll just shut my parents up and wait for the right time to leave.”

Otoya scoffs, smirking. “Lucky girl.” Sarcasm is his forté.

Oliver laughs, finally putting his phone down. “Okay you do that, and then I’ll pop up and be her Prince Charming and sweep her off her feet.”

Sae inwardly sighs to himself. His friends are insufferable as well, though he’d argue whether that’s the correct term for them. They’re only a group because their families happened to meet often. Somehow, Sae had been dragged into this weird association one day, and the rest is history.

“Do whatever the fuck you want.”

The rest of the night, Sae drowns out their conversation, choosing to ignore whatever shit they’re talking about. In his head, he’s only thinking about how long it’ll take before he can safely absolve himself from you without his parents threatening his younger brother’s career. More importantly, he’s wondering how the fuck he’s going to tell you he’s thinking of a divorce even before you get married.

Surely, you don’t really expect anything to come out of this either, do you?

If you do, you’ve got a rude awakening coming.

taglist: @kimvmarvel @mxplesyrvp @yuzurins @futuristicxie @kiopanxp @k0z3me @y-sabell-a @sae1toshilover

[kleiner-ghost]

[patroxlos]

home base . ch6

"friends who are stuck together" - 5.7k words

ultraman: rising (2024). kenji sato x reader

master post. ao3 link.

previous: ch5. "friends who fuck things up"

next: ch7. "friends who use their phones in bed"

kenji is confronted with his life abroad, his relationship with his dad, and your confusing back and forth

---

Ken Sato is born during his first week at the private school his mom enrolled him in when they moved to the States.

Being the only Asian kid in his class does not help. He is noticeably more tan than his peers and his angular eyes drew attention wherever he went. He cannot eat any of the hefty, greasy viands without rice— because what do you mean you slather the thickest cuts of beef with the sweetest sauces and expect him to eat it with dry bread?

But what confuses and frustrates him the most as a seven year old boy is how difficult it apparently is to say his name.

Kenji Sato. The most direct four syllables. And somehow they are still mispronounced everywhere he goes.

Ken-jay.

Say-toe.

And when they do not bother, children are surprisingly creative with making racially-motivated nicknames.

Sure, English does not come easy to him at that age. He cannot tell the difference between “knew” and “new”, and he struggles with his letter Ls, but if everyone around him is going to be smart about it then why can’t they pronounce his name? He cannot even recite in class without some little brat at the back named Bartholomew mocking his accent.

Still, Bartholomew shortens his own name to Bart.

And he becomes Ken, because it is easier that way.

Even so, all his awards and trophies throughout his professional career keep the ‘Kenji,’ simply because his mom gave him that name. His dad refrains from using Ken at all to this day, and it is not an aversion born from simple preference. You call him ‘Ken’ and ‘Kenji’ interchangeably, but you use ‘Ken’ the most when you are mad or to simply tease him.

He remembers his mom’s frown when his homework starts to get signed as Ken, and throughout the first year at the States it never stopped coming out to all his little changes. He knows she misses who he used to be; a bright, eager boy is now reduced to a sullen, quiet kid. Admittedly, that time is not filled with his fondest memories— he still remembers the smell of her opening up the spoiled, untouched bentos from his bag at the end of the day.

But, on the plus side, he definitely learns a lot of new English words from sitting outside the school office as his mom meets with just about everyone— the teachers, the principal, the district officer.

Failing.

Bullying.

Discrimination. He is proud when he eventually figures out how to spell this one.

It helps a lot that his mom shouts it out so he can hear it even with the door separating them. Will dad do the same if he was here?

It feels like nothing can make his mom smile during those days.

So he signs up for baseball, and she is thrilled.

He is too, until he meets his minor league team, and it turns out boys are meaner in sports than they are in the classroom.

This isn’t tee ball. They jeer, as he is easily one of the smallest there. He struggles to defend himself, but the only thing he can say are roughly strewn-together syllables. He can feel the bright beam of his mom’s smile being directed at him from the bleachers, and he will not be messing this up for her.

His teammates’ taunts don’t end until they see him swing.

He gives them something else to talk about as he sends the first pitch at practice to the other side of the field. He hears his mom cheering a loud ganbatte! and she is as glowing as ever.

He learns a new English word that day from his coach. Prodigy.

But even more so, he learns the quickest way to shut annoying shitheads up.

Because when he also hears one of his teammates guffawing about his mom speaking Chinese, he delivers another expert swing right at his face.

Despite the lecture his mom gives to him publicly in front of the other well-meaning parents, she still takes him for icecream right after practice.

“Kenji.”

“Yeah, mom?”

“Don’t go around starting fights like that again, but when you do, always make sure you win, okay?”

Ken misses her a lot, especially now.

“Dad, I can’t make more time to help completely change Emi’s potty sched again.” He pinches the bridge of his nose as he sits across his dad at the dinner table. Not much dinner was being eaten, as papers were strewn at the center with their meals pushed to the side. Seriously, with all the technological advancements in this house you would expect them to at least use some laptops.

Hayao Sato points more insistently at one particular document. “Please just help me test out this theory, Kenji. Since her diet has increased by a lot now that we are letting her hunt for her own food, most likely her excretion needs have changed.”

“Well I think her poopies are just fine.”

“Kenji—”

“I believe you, okay!” He slumps back into his chair. “Believe me, I really do. But on a practical level, I’m already stretched thin as it is. Those books say that when babies establish a schedule it’s best to stick to it or else they’ll get confused. Now, if you could transform to do more than being a helicopter dad, so we can have at least two Ultramen on the team, then that would be fantastic!”

His mom might have been quick to argue back if she was here, but his dad carries a somber air that permeates into his skin and strikes his heart with guilt whenever he raises his voice against him. Hayao Sato is not the man he used to be— he is frail and feeble, and cannot raise his voice too high without straining his throat.

Even when his dad gets mad now or gives another of his droning lectures, Ken’s subconscious brain tricks him into feeling like the villain for making his dad stress his body like that. A year ago, he will not have cared at all. He might have thought it as reparations for abandoning him.

“You know I can’t transform yet…not right now.” Hayao bounces his leg under the table, an unconscious tick activating from the tenseness of their conversation.

There is a growing silence between father and son, and unknown to Kenji, his dad is also praying at the back of his mind for the grace of Emiko to teach him what to say. 

He misses you.

Other than his mom, you will know what to say to his dad. Hell, you’re closer to him than Ken is, given how you regularly visited him while he was alone in Japan. He ignores the bubbling envy as he broods over it. At least you have always been kind enough to never talk about his dad more than he was comfortable with.

Ken leaves the dinner table wishing his dad was a shittier person. He wishes his dad had taken the more traditional absentee route instead of being a literal superhero. It might have even been easier if Emiko actually divorced Hayao, but his mother never fails to remind Kenji that she loves his father very much.

He has always been made to feel like his resentment is more akin to selfishness. Millions of live depend on his dad, so what importance does a little league baseball game have compared to that? What right does he have? His parents make enough for his comfortable life. He is lucky enough to be in his dream job. And yeah, he’s mature enough to admit that he hated the Ultraman gig at first but now he has kind of grown into the service of it all.

So he hates his temper instead, because he does want to get along with his dad. He really does. It has been a few days since they have started tackling Emi as a team, but this newfound bond is not enough to patch the past two decades of empty chairs, curt calls and missed graduations.

He finds himself on a makeup chair the next day for his upcoming motorcycle ad under Motsubishi.

His makeup artist tuts as he looks at Ken’s black compression shirt. “It’s a shame you have to be so covered up for this one.”

From behind Ken, he hears his hairstylist giggle at that. “Motorcyclists have to get all covered up if they don’t want road rash,” she explains. “Of course, our baseball star knows his way around motorcycles.”

“Maybe he should start knowing his way around the ball field as well,” his MUA teasingly comments as he powders up Ken’s face.

He winces at the remark, and he tries not to show too much displeasure. Ken knows that if he blows up at them it will only spread around the industry that he is a sore loser. Which he is, and everyone already knows. He stays still on the makeup chair as he gives a nonchalant shrug. “Unlucky streak I suppose. Working on it.”

His hairstylist playfully swoons as she brushes his hair. “We’re still fans, Sato, don’t get us wrong. Being your fan has been pretty expensive lately though, with the amount of bets we put on you.”

“Hey, thanks for the love,” his media persona turns on with full charm. “I know I’m not supposed to promote any gambling, it’s all just family-friendly fun at the field, but you’ll get your money’s worth soon.”

“Now don’t go making empty promises.”

“My game can still pick up,” he defends himself.

His makeup artist rolls his eyes in jest. “Girl, your numbers aren’t looking too good now. I’ve seen Moneyball.”

“And that makes you a baseball expert? What, you gonna compute my ERA?” Ken flings back, but with an easygoing smirk.

The studio thrums with organized chaos as the entire shoot falls into place. The set managers are shouting out orders to the crew and large boxes of equipment are wheeled across the floor. The commercial director can be seen muttering to herself as the lights crew test out different lighting layouts on the sleek motorcycle positioned in front of a greenscreen. While the noise gives him a headache, Ken still takes the experience as a welcome break from his dad and all that is going on at home. At least, until he overhears a nearby conversation mention your name.

“I heard that she’s stopping by to do an ocular on the shoot.”

“Doesn’t she have a fashion week to go to instead?”

“What is she even going to do here except cuddle up to Sato?”

“I bet she’s only visiting because he’s here.”

“She’s acting as if she knows what she’s doing but all she’s done is fuck up all the current systems.”

“These fucking influencers, man. They don’t know any actual shit about business, and think they can coast by with botox and veneers.”

“If she wants to fool around with her boy toy she should’ve asked her daddy to—”

“Hey,” His makeup artist speaks up before he can say anything. “Do you want to chat louder for the rest of us? We can’t hear you.”

The small group of crew members startle from the sarcastic bite, and hastily, they file away to get back to work. Ken only realizes then that his knuckles were turning white from the grip he had on his chair.

For the world always constricts you to specific S words. Scion. Socialite. Slut.

He notices when he scrolls through social media that it has gotten worse in the past few months when it was made public that you are officially being groomed for your new CEO position. It’s all sinister, from the comments on your body to the tweets regarding your shallowness.

He is pulled out of his thoughts when his makeup artist taps his clenched jaw.

The hairstylist coos at him as he tries to relax. “Aww, it’s okay Sato, we know how much your girlfriend means to you.”

“She’s…a friend,” Ken corrects her uncertainly. His makeup artist snorts in disbelief, but surprisingly does not comment.

The silence is getting a little uncomfortable for Ken. He bites his tongue to prevent himself from saying more.

“Ex?” His hairstylist supplies, hoping to be helpful.

“...no?” He sounds even more unsure now.

The group does not notice how the room goes a bit silent.

“She wasn’t asking a question.” His makeup artist points out as he contours his cheekbones. He cannot keep his curiosity at bay any longer as he continues, “So…baby mama?”

“She wishes,” Ken jokes to try to get them to drop the topic, and it is immediately greeted by a small round of amused snickers between them, including one that makes his stomach flip a bit.

“Do I?”

His hairstylist drops the brush she was holding, and his makeup artist nearly topples over his kit when he jumps back. Ken turns in his makeup chair to see you crossing your arms with a smirk on your face. You naturally draw attention, especially in the bold power suit you are wearing.

You turn to the head stage manager, who is standing near you. “How many minutes ‘til shooting?”

“T-thirty.”

“Thank you thirty.” You give her a glamorous smile. “I’ll borrow our star for a bit until then. I’ll have him back in fifteen.”

Before Ken can tell you to wait, he stumbles out of his chair as you grab his elbow. You escort him out of the studio and into the hallways, all eyes on you both. He regains his bearings, and tugs himself out of your hold to get you to stop your brisk walk.

“I need to get back there.”

You wave at him dismissively. “We have time.”

“You don’t understand,” his words firm up as he grabs your wrist to tug you back in the room. “We can’t be seen out here alone.”

Your attention is elsewhere, and when you spot a supply closet nearby you use his grip to pull him with you inside. He stumbles again as he follows you in, uttering protests when you proceed to lock the door.

The lighting of the closet is dim, and he has to steady himself with one hand against the shelf above your head with how cramped the space was. A mop falls and whacks the back of his head as you two adjust yourselves, and you stifle a giggle as he looks down at you, unamused.

Ken has no time for your jokes. “Do you have any idea what this would look like if people saw us like this?”

“They make stuff up all the time,” your breath hits his face with the familiar taste of your toothpaste. “This is urgent.”

“We can talk after the shoot,” he tries to reason with you. “Look, I don’t want to hurt your feelings but I heard them talking shit—”

“—you know that doesn’t matter to me—”

“And they’re saying that you came here just to see me—”

“Dude, I—”

“—so we need to get back as soon as possible before the shoot gets delayed.”

You clasp your hands over his mouth, shushing him to be quiet. Like instinct, his hands reach for you, softly holding your elbows. You look him dead in the eye as you say “But I did come here to see you.”

His stomach does a flip, and he eases closer to you. You rest your back uncomfortably on the shelves of detergent and floorwax.

“Y-you haven’t messaged me since the call,” you stammer, and he can feel from your touch the little anxious tremors that wrought your body. You have always been so confident out there, but just like Ken, you can get so vulnerable when you are alone. “I know this is inappropriate but my anxiety has been acting up the past few days and I can’t stop worrying that I did something wrong.”

He takes a sharp breath as he pulls your hands off his mouth by your elbows. Your hands slide down to the corners of his shoulders. “Oh shit— oh shit I’m sorry. I completely forgot— so much has been happening…And this doesn’t mean that I wasn’t thinking about you. I was. I always do.”

You relax at his rambling, and he struggles to shut himself up before he embarrasses himself.

You gently squeeze his shoulders to calm him down. “Okay, okay…that’s good. I was worried…that you started hating me again.”

“I never hated you,” he is quick to assure, even though deep down he knows that he had moments where he was close to. “I get mad but I don’t…I can’t imagine ever hating you.”

His hands fall from your elbows to rest against the shelf digging into the back of your waist. You loosely hold his biceps as you purse your lips. Your voice nearly cracks a bit when you say “Even after what happened three years ago?”

“Especially then.” He glances the soft bump of your throat as you take a nervous gulp.

“Kenji…” You look up to the low ceiling. “I…I shouldn’t have asked you to come over. It was stupid and impulsive.”

“I shouldn’t have agreed so quickly. I was being impulsive too.” The distant proximity is palpable to him as he counts the inches apart his chest is from your face. His neck aches from hunching over you.

“No, but I knew you would say yes,” you wearily sigh. Your head lolls to the side, still looking away from him. “I’m always the person who sets the boundaries and ends up breaking them.”

His silence says it all.

He agrees.

But it’s not like he doesn’t enjoy it when you do.

“I’m just standing by what I promised you,” he finally says. “Friends. We’ll always be that.”

You slowly nod. “It’s for the best. Did you record that call?”

“I was too worried about your arm.” He looks down at the sleeve of your suit jacket. You instinctively cross your arms and he misses the familiar warmth of your palms against his skin. His hand reaches up to touch the soft wool fabric. “Does it still hurt?”

“It’s healing pretty well. All in all it’s just a big bruise,” you shrug. “I’m… I’m glad you didn’t record it. I’m kind of embarrassed by…” You look down to your shoes. “...By what I said.”

There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, he wants to say. But he knows he might be inviting something more, encouraging more in the future.

He changes the subject. “...You haven’t seen my dad in a while. He told me the other day.”

You finally look up at him again. “Been a bit busy, but I’ll make time. He still staying with you?”

“Yeah,” his tired tone tells all.

And he hates the look you put on whenever he mentions his dad— that measured, cautious stare marked by a hesitance to broach the subject. He cannot fault you for it because he never likes talking about his dad with anyone, but he doesn’t like it when you get like this.

“It’s fine,” his words cut through the quiet before you can say anything. “It’s…added company. It isn’t just me and Mina anymore.”

“But you see others all the time right?” You try to cheer him up.

“...What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, maybe like, your other friends?” You explain.

His mouth fills with a bitterness. He has never had any other friends he can say he is any close to. “...right,” he drawls.

“Ken, I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to be with you at any moment,” you say it so sincerely he almost winces. “Of course you have friends. You were getting along with the staff earlier.”

“That’s just small talk,” he deflects.

You look like you want to argue more, but you hold it in.

“Anyway, are we done here?” The closet was getting stuffier by the minute. “I don’t want them gossiping any more than they probably are right now. We’ve been in here for a bit.”

“They’re not saying anything new.”

He gives you a sharp glare, mirroring your crossed arms. “I don’t want you getting used to it.”

“I’m not saying it doesn’t hurt,” you snip. “It just doesn’t concern you. I’m doing my best to handle it.”

Now that is the stupidest thing he has heard you say in a while. “By openly pulling me out of the room right in front of everyone? Yeah, you’re doing a great job at handling it.”

“What do you want from me?” Your voice raises higher than you want it to.

“To stop being so confusing with what you want!” He says before he thinks. “One day we’re just friends the next you’re pouting about me being too busy for you.”

“So if we weren’t interrupted by your dad, you wouldn’t have went to me?” You laugh without humor. “You’re the one who always acts like you’re going to die if I don’t give you attention. You haven’t changed in ten years.”

“And who is the one who is risking getting kicked out of the company just to see me for a few minutes? Who is the one who always looks like she’s about to cry over worrying about messing up with me?”

“I don’t—”

“You do,” he towers over you.

“You know, you have a lot to say for a guy who always comes to me when I ask him to.”

He does not flinch.

You stand facing each other, the walls closing into you. Ken can feel the beads of sweat forming along his hairline as the temperature rises inside the closet from the heat of the tension.  If he was a weaker man, he might have just closed the seven inches that kept you apart. 

“This brings back memories,” he admits.

“Memories we’re not going to repeat,” you finish his thought, trying to take a step back in the minimal space.

“You practically pulled me in here.”

“Believe me, if I wanted to fuck you I would’ve pulled you into the restroom.”

“Like at that gas station?” He relishes in the way your face contorts, and he can’t help it— a chuckle escapes him that has you smacking his chest.

“Okay that was really fucking gross,” you cringe at the memory as he chuckles even harder. “It’s not funny!”

“You were definitely ovulating back then.” He lets you smack him some more, and he nearly bumps into the shelf in front of him as he hunches over even more in laughter. You struggle to keep the smile off your face as you let out your own small giggles.

You take a small step closer to Ken, and your back aches from the posture of having to look up at him. “That was years ago,” you whine but your giggling says otherwise.

“Okay, okay,” He raises his arms up to stop your assault, each hit getting weaker after the other. He cannot help the fond smile he shows when he looks down at you, and as you slowly stop shoving him against the shelves behind him, he lets you bury your face into his chest to hide your mortification.Together, your giggles slowly die down in the warm closet. He ruffles your hair comfortingly.

You mumble nonsense against his shirt. “You’re an asshole.”

“I know.”

“You promised you wouldn’t bring it up again.”

“I never said that.” He tries to peer down to your face but you refuse to lift your head up.

“You deserve to die in a fire.”

“Aw, you don’t mean that, baby.”

You lift your head up to give him a dirty look. “Ugh, shut up. ”

Without ceremony, you both shuffle out of the closet. The stale air of the hall feels chilly as it wafts through you two. Ken subconsciously fixes his hair and shirt even if there is no need to, the muscle memory of being close to you like that is kicking in.

“You better go back. I’ll hang around here for a bit before following so that it doesn’t look like we were doing anything,” you say as you wipe the sweat off your temple.

Ken bites the inside of his cheek. If they would’ve talked about us like that anyway, we should have just done something.

But he respects your agreement.

The shoot goes well and on-schedule. His makeup artist does not question why he needs a small touch-up, his bronzer slightly muddled from his sweat, but all in all he is a professional. The director gushes that he should go into modelling full-time when baseball stops working out. He cannot see you the entire shoot. The studio lights are too bright for him to see anything beyond the cameras pointing at him.

He tries not to make it obvious after they wrap that he searches for you throughout the studio, but when it is clear you have left midway the schedule, he says his polite goodbyes and heads over to the parking lot.

“Mina,” he commands into his motorcycle helmet as he climbs onto his ride. The AI buzzes to life. “I need you to send a quick email.”

Ken comes home to his dad doing yoga with Emi at the center of the Ultrabase. Emi’s large head combined with her tiny little arms makes her struggle with the triangle pose, but she is diligently following her grandfather. She lets out tiny squawks to ask if she is doing it right.

“That’s it little Emi,” Professor Sato encourages her gleefully. “Just stretch out to the sky.”

Before Ken can say anything, Mina flies circles around the baby. “Look, Emi! Daddy’s home!”

The baby kaiju nearly falls over when she spots Ken coming out of the elevator. The floor rumbles with every step as she runs towards him, and he sees his dad struggle to keep himself on his feet from the mini earthquakes. His ears fill with her excited gurgling. The sight of a large monster bounding straight at him does not faze him any longer, and with practiced proficiency he transforms into Ultraman in a blink of an eye and catches his little Emi.

“Hi cutie Emi! You’re bonding with your jiji?” His fatigue melts away when she immediately chirps in response. She wiggles in his hold excitedly. Ken sits cross-legged as he sets her down on his lap, letting her crawl around as much as she likes.

His dad finds his walking stick, and he slowly hobbles towards him. He looks more frail when Ken is in his Ultraman form. “She’s getting more flexible by the moment,” he shouts for Ken to hear. “Emi saw me do some of my physical therapy exercises and she wanted to join in.”

Emi purrs in agreement. He strokes her head as she settles into his lap.

“That’s good. She’s been kind of gaining weight—”

“Kenji, that’s not nice to say about a young girl,” Mina chimes in.

“You know that’s not what I meant Mina.” His bright irises shoot daggers at the floating robot, who only beeps back.

“I understand,” his dad says mirthfully. “Better to keep her in a healthy weight or else she might struggle to hold her head up by herself.”

“Thank you, dad,” He exhales before giving another pointed look at Mina, his emotionless silver face saying it all.

This is the first time they have agreed on anything in the past few days.

“So…dad…I…” It is easier for him to talk to his dad in this form, oddly enough. It creates a good distance, a boundary. It feels less real and intimate.

Professor Sato tilts his head to the side when he hears his tone. “Yes? Did anything go wrong today?”

“No! No, everything was fine today. Great day at work,” he stalls. “Thanks for looking after Emi while I was away.”

“Anytime, Kenji.”

“And thanks…thanks for…sticking around. I wasn’t being fair to you last night and I shouldn’t have gotten mad.” He slumps in his gigantic form, a show of penance.

Professor Sato grips the head of his cane a little tighter, as he looks up at his son. “Kenji, I hope you know I’m proud of you for apologizing like that. You didn’t have to because I know you didn’t mean what you said, but…It means a lot to me that you still took the opportunity to.”

Ken’s shoulders might have sagged in relief if he didn’t hear the words ‘I’m proud of you’ come out of his dad’s mouth. If anything, he freezes up.

“Kenji?”

“...Y-yeah…Um, thanks, dad.” He tolds Emi tighter on his lap, and the baby just purrs more at the added comfortable pressure.

“He got something for you,” Mina tells Professor Sato as she hovers nearby.

“You didn’t have to do that,” his dad brightens up. “What is it?”

He pauses a second too long, so Mina projects a screen showing your calendar schedule for the next day. While the other appointments are censored, at the bottom it clearly states ‘8PM - Meeting with Hayao Sato.’

“I, uh, I know you haven’t seen her in a while so I emailed her assistant to schedule something,” He mumbles, sheepish about doing something nice for his dad for once. “She’s coming here, so you two can stay upstairs while I watch Emi in the basement.”

“That’s…” Hayao is silent for a moment. “That’s really kind of you Kenji. Thank you.”

“No problem….dad…”

Hayao let out a loud sigh, and Mina brings over a stool for him to sit on. “Honestly, I’m glad she still wants to see me.”

“Why wouldn’t she?” He asks, confused. He never hears about you and his dad fighting. He does not think you ever have.

“Well…She must have not taken the fact that you’re Ultraman quite well.”

Now Kenji was fully at a loss as to what his dad was talking about. He leans forward to hear him better. “She doesn’t know. I didn’t tell her. You and mom made me swear not to tell anyone.”

His dad startles at this revelation. “You never did? I…I was afraid of seeing her because I thought she knew.”

“Why did you expect me to tell her?” He is annoyed. Sure, you are his closest friend, but he understands the gravity of concealing his hero identity.

“Because I told her I was Ultraman.”

The revelation shocks him stiff that his colortimer goes off. The sudden shift to his human form causes him to trip over himself and fall on his bottom. Emi cries as she suddenly falls down to the ground as well, but she mitigates her stress to turn to her own daddy to check if he is okay. She squints her beady eyes in concern for him as she crawls towards his smaller form.

But Kenji treads around her to walk straight for his dad.

“What do you mean she knows?! She knew all this time and she didn’t tell me?”

Hayao raises a hand to gesture for him to calm down. “I only told her when I got injured. She was the only one left here that I can trust.”

“That’s still months. Why hasn’t she said anything?” He laughs bitterly. Fuck, you think you know someone.

“I don’t know,” his dad croaks. “And she has her reasons, but that’s not important now—”

“What do you mean it isn’t important now? My best friend knew my deepest secret this entire time! I, I needed someone to talk to about this, dad. You don’t understand—”

“You can shout at me more later.” His dad got up from his seat, impatient. “What I need to know now is if you’ve told her about your ultra.”

“For the last time, no!” He spits out. “I would have, if either of you fucking told me she knew about you.”

“Then you best keep it that way,” his dad grunts, muttering to himself.

Kenji runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Hell no. I’m telling her as soon as I see her.”

“That is a bad idea.” His dad stomps his cane into the floor. “Under no circumstances should you tell her or anyone else that you are the Ultraman. You can let her know that I used to be, but you absolutely cannot tell her about yourself.”

“She’s probably smart enough to have figured out that I am Ultraman! What’s the issue?”

“No, no she wouldn’t think you are…” His dad mutters to himself, and Ken is confused as to why he sounds so sure that you don’t. “She most likely thinks I have taken up a protégé.”

Emi chirps with more worry as she watches them fight. The yelling makes her flinch, and Ken can tell that if this stretches out longer, her fear response will kick in.

He runs his hands over his face, groaning, before reluctantly nodding. “Fine, you win. But I’m definitely asking her why she never said anything.”

“Okay, okay good…” Hayao collapses on the stool, the fight tiring him out. The absolute relief on his face stuns Ken, who takes a step back before walking away without saying anything else.

He leaves the basement angrier than he was when he left the dining table last night, feelings of shock and betrayal coursing through his blood.

His dad is hiding something from him.

You are hiding something from him.

And this definitely goes beyond regular superhero secrecy.

A/N: okie fun stuff abt the process of writing this chapter

- i actually wanted to write an entire fic exploring and showcasing my character analysis of kenji sato especially centering on his relationship w his dad, but i was worried that it was going to be boring lmao since last chapter that him sucking faces with u so i decided to stagger it throughout the rest of his story. it's bc i saw some ppl online saying like "others only care about kenji bc hes hot but they mischaracterize him bc of it they dont know him like i do." and when i saw that i went. "hm this definitely isnt abt me...maybe it's u who doesnt know him like i do" so i feel the need to prove that i understand hes sexy but with layers lmao so that i can have the license to slut him out as much as i want !!! it's because it is really important for me that the reader in the story feels like an actual character who contributes to the plot as opposed to just being tacked on the movie, and with that, it means figuring out what you can do for kenji.

- a lot of the comments tell me that i characterize kenji well and i feel like it's because i relate to him so much? it feels like his spirit possesses me when i write for him lmao he and reader werent actually supposed to fight in the closet but while i was writing the dialogue i felt him being pissed off by what u r saying and i just went w it.

- "thank you (time)" is actually a time-keeping courtesy during productions because it shows that you are aware of the time! not everyone does it but it's fun

- moneyball is a really popular baseball film that uses baseball as a backdrop for us to explore the human experience of being undervalued for who you can be. u should watch it!

- i will write the gas station scene and it will be explicit. >:) . yes it's as gross as it sounds but in a hot way.

finally, i want to give you a warning: the next chapters might be lighthearted, but soon i will be delving deeper into kenji's insecurities and abandonment issues, coupled with the situationship. if you have ever been in a situationship or seen one happen, you know that shit qualifies for a veteran discount due to all the horrors you witness. dare i say it is worse than testicular torture. What makes a situationship so devastating is when both people involved bring in their insecurities with them. i need to give the reader a solid amount of flaws for this to work.

u may hate urself and what u will do. (i doubt it's anything new lmao)

[zombiekillerbiceps]

Closing In

Leon follows reader home...

Note: thank you to anon for suggesting this premise, ohhhh I did not realize how much I would like writing this - and thank you everyone for your patience!

Content: 3.9 k words, 18+, cnc with enthusiastic consent, stalking roleplay, slasher roleplay, home invasion roleplay, denial, rough sex, taunting, humiliation, crying, overstim, sadism/masochism, Slasher!Leon, obsessed Leon, LeonxReader, fem reader, no y/n. 

-

"I dunno, I just think it's kind of romantic," you say. Your hands fiddle nervously with the tassels on your throw pillow.

"He was a stalker, babe." Leon's voice hides just a hint of amusement. "He cut women up."

"Okay, but besides that-"

"Besides the... The serial killing."

"Yes! Besides the serial killing."

Leon stared at you, an eyebrow arched in judgement. You tried to stay straight faced - by God, you tried - but he had a way of half-smirking his way past your mask with his annoying, pretty face.

"Look, I'm just saying," you roll your eyes, not even sure why you keep talking, "something about... Obsessing over someone like that is kiiind of romantic. What's the point of love if it doesn't make you a little crazy? Y'know? Anne Rice would agree with me."

"Anne Rice was horny for a Confederate twink," he points out.

You gawk for a moment. But like, he's kind of right. So instead of saying anything clever, you throw the pillow at him. He deflects it with his forearm, but that gives you the opening to jump on him. You're wrestling in no time, breathless and sweaty and... Moving against each other...

-

You're out for lunch with your friend, Jessie, at some too-fancy Parisian style café. You sip a caramel iced latte and share a plate of rose coloured macarons. She complains about her studies, you complain about work, and you both come to the resounding agreement that deadlines suck. She complains about her last date, some butch that was more well-read than her that accidentally made her feel stupid. You don't have the heart to tell her that they sounded cool as hell. You tip-toe around telling her about Leon. It's not that you weren't proud of him, it was just... With the nature of his job, what were you going to say? Yeah, I'm seeing this guy who has a gun case built into the dresser and is super paranoid about people visiting his place and won't tell me what he does but he's like, totally a sweet guy and not some psycho? Yeah. Okay.

You stretch, appreciating the summer sun on your limbs and the peaceful breeze around your skirt. Your phone rings. Jessie snatches it up before you have a chance to, and then gives you the most scandalous, shit-eating grin you've ever seen.

"No. Don't you dare-!"

"Hiiiii lover boy," she coos over the phone.

Oh fuck, kill me.

"Jessie, give me the phone!" You reach across the table, the ceramic plate between you clattering loudly against the glass table. You freeze, feeling eyes on you. Jessie opens her mouth in mock embarrassment.

"So you're the secret boyfriend that my best friend keeps hiding from me?"

"Jessie, come on."

She listens for a moment, then laughs. You get up from your chair and walk over to her while she tries to twist away from your grasp.

"mhm, mhm - oh, sorry, I think someone wants to talk to y-"

You finally snatch it from her grasp. You give her a stare with the intensity of someone who can kill by staring. You try to keep your voice as flat as possible.

"Hey, sorry about that. What's up?"

"Is that Jessie?" He asks. He's got that... Quirk in his voice. The one that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You can feel Jessie watching you and try to keep it cool.

"Yeah, sorry, she's like, literally five years old sometimes."

"She seems fun."

"Babe, I'm kinda busy, did you have a reason for-"

"That's a pretty dress you're wearing."

You freeze halfway to sitting back down in your chair. Jessie tilts her head, giving you that concerned-puppy-dog face she did when she knew something was up.

You clear your throat and find it suddenly dry. You sit back down but you're a little clumsy, your skirt getting caught on the arm rests. You snatch it back, and then trying to regain your cool, you take a sip from your iced latte. You hear him chuckle on the other end. Did it get cold all of a sudden?

"What, uh, what do you mean by that?"

You can practically hear him grin into the receiver.

"I mean," he says, drawing out every syllable. "I can see you. And you look pretty today. That skirt will roll up pretty easy-"

You hang up on him. Mostly in panic. There was no way you were going to do that in public! Your eyes scan the area around you. Pretty cafe patio, pretty park across the street, some people going about their daily business. You can't see him anywhere. He must be fucking with you. He must have known you were going to wear a dress, it's so hot out, and where would he even be hiding?

A cold hand touches yours and you almost jump out of your skin. Jessie's taking your hand in hers, and when you meet her gaze, she looks like she's about to cry.

"I'm so sorry if I caused any issues between you, I totally shouldn't have answered it. I didn't think he'd like, get angry with you," she starts to wetly babble, swaying between guilty and protective. You love her very much, but you don't know what to say.

Oh, it's just this weird sex game we play, I promise this brooding dude who you've never met and only spoken to once is definitely a good guy and not like emotionally abusive.

"Hey, hey, Jessie. Don't worry about it. It wasn't about that he's got this... Thing. Unrelated. But uh, look, I have to go."

She frowns, almost curving her pink lip-glossed mouth into a pout.

"If he so much as leaves a scratch on you, I will kill him."

Your thoughts flit to the bite marks and bruises that are just covered by your dress. If only she knew.

You kiss her cheek, snatch up one final macaron, and take your leave. You try to control your pace, look cool, act natural. Your eyes scan the buildings and alleyways around you. You seriously can't find him.

Your phone rings.

You stare at it for a moment. Your hands are shaking a little when you answer it.

"It's sweet how much she cares about you," he says. An idea dawns on you. You nod and give an mhm sound, listening around you for anything noticeable. A church bell rings just ahead of you and you hear it echo over the phone.

"You're close," you say. You try to sound threatening. He just laughs at you.

"Obviously. How else would I know you're wearing that citrus perfume I love?"

"I wear that everyday." Your voice shakes as you speak, and you can't help but whip your head around. You half expect to see him there, but it's just some guy who gives you a dirty look.

"No, you don't. You only wear it when you're going to see friends. You usually wear the vanilla one. You like that it's so subtle."

You're a little impressed he noticed that. It was kind of sweet, really, if he wasn't totally freaking you out. How did he possibly get close enough to smell your perfume without you noticing?  You start walking again. You want to catch the train home. Maybe you can trap him there.

You use the shop windows as you pass to get a better look, pretending to window shop.

"Do you think I'd look good in that," you ask, with no idea what you're referring to. You're looking past whatever is behind the glass to observe the reflection. A spot of blonde hair, maybe... He got a totally different hair cut? No. Not him.

"Using the reflection. Clever."

He hangs up.

You spin around again, desperately searching the crowd. He was a beefy guy and he moved like a panther, there's no way he was just casually blending in. But, you can't find him.

You wrap your arms around your core. Knowing you're being watched makes you want to shrink into yourself. Yet you can't ignore the excitement you feel. It was kind of romantic, really. Kind of dangerous.

You liked Leon best when he was dangerous.

You set off again, somehow walking a knife's edge between nervous and confident. Both prey and prize. You keep looking over your shoulder as you pass into the crowded underground of the subway station. It's right around rush hour and it's so packed you can hardly move. Other people are breathing your oxygen and you're just recycling theirs. It's tight, and hot, and moving at the exact speed that makes you feel like no one is really getting anywhere. You pull your purse tight to your body and try to shove past people, only to be confronted with more people.

Your phone rings. You hang up. And then, in a stroke of brilliance, you call back.

His ringtone echoes out in the tiled halls. You try desperately to find it, but it only rings out twice, then it's lost in the sea of people.

"Clever," his voice is deep on the other end. "I'm almost impressed."

"Yeah. Why don't you stop hiding?"

"Oh, I know you're eager, but I didn't think you'd want me to cut you up in this crowd."

He's impatient. You can tell by the sharpness of his voice that he's more frustrated than he admits. The threat sends a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but picture yourself bent over on the filthy tile floor, knife to your throat, fucked within an inch of your life as people step past. The ebb and flow of the crowd pushes you towards the oncoming subway.

"What exactly is your plan?" He asks. You can hear the screeching brakes over the phone. "I know you take the 76 Southbound until Queen Street. I know you get off and walk two blocks to George Street. I know you live in a turn of the century brownstone with a heritage plaque and bathroom sink that takes forever to drain."

You step onto the 76 Southbound near the front. You press your back to the wall and watch as people get on.

"Yeah, well," you say victoriously, "I know you have to go the same way."

And then you see him. He walks directly into your trap, and realizes it too late. His blue eyes widen in realization. The door slams shut behind him.

You hang up.

Some people pile up in front of you, giving you cover from him. You watch him from behind shoulders and under arms. Open, navy bomber jacket and a grey t-shirt with black jeans doesn't exactly scream slasher killer. But, something about how casual he looks keeps your attention. He blends in, he's unsuspecting. And, to your surprise, he's grinning like a fox.

He's broad, and when he moves through the crowd, people make room for him. He scans every seat and every face with purpose. Inching his way towards the back. You realize you have nowhere to go. You start to panic. Maybe you get off a stop early? And then what, he beats you to your house and waits for you?

No, you have to get home before he does. Lock the doors before he can get in. You push closer to the door so you can be the first one off. You turn to track his progress and directly meet his gaze.

Fuck.

His expression drops, his eyes glaring at you from under his brow. You're almost hypnotized by them, frozen in place while he cuts through the crowd.

You're pinned down with nowhere to go. But, surely, nothing will happen in public, right?

He pushes past a few more people and then he's on you. He towers above you, his broad shoulders cutting out other's view of you. You notice how his t-shirt clings to his body. How well fitting his jeans are. You also notice the angry squint in his eyes from under his brow.

"Did you really think you could hide from me?" He brings a hand down to touch your hip, holding it in his grasp. You quiver against him as he leans down, close enough to whisper in your ear. "Don't you know I’ll always find you?"

You turn your head away from him defiantly. Your eyes scan the train, but passengers nearby don't seem to notice. They all have that vacant long-day- commute stare.

"No one's going to help you, sweetheart." He closes in, one arm rests on the wall beside you, his body angled to ensure prying eyes can't see. His free hand slides up your body. It caresses the curves of your hips, the softness of your tummy, the round of your breast.

You flush. Your hands come up to his chest as if that will stop him from pawing at your tits.

"Leon, seriously? Here?" You whisper it, completely embarrassed.

"I can take you whenever I want." He uses that commanding voice you've only heard a handful of times before. "You're mine."

To prove his point, his hand dips between your thighs, and he presses his fingers against your pussy over the fabric of your skirt. It's so sudden and strong, your hand goes to his wrist on instinct. He doesn't stop, rubbing hard enough to make your legs shake.

"Could probably take you right here," he mutters, his breath hot on your ear. You feel yourself get wet at the thought.

"Queen Street." The robotic, automated subway voice chimes out from overhead.

The door opens. You lose your balance, but manage to recover quickly. You move fast, hoping to put as much distance between yourself and Leon as you can. You take the stairs two at a time until you breach the surface, taking in the fresh air like it would save you. But the summer heat brokers no peace, and you know Leon isn't far behind.

You don't look behind you for fear of slowing down. You take one block normally, then decide to cut through an alley way to save time. Every minute was another he could be gaining on you.

As you take a few paces into the alley, your hair starts to stand on end. It's somehow darker here, the smell of mildew and gasoline making your stomach turn. Your cell phone rings. You answer.

"Stop calling!" You snap, betraying more fear than you mean to.

"An alleyway? You're smarter than this." Leon is unphased by your outburst.

You give in, turning your head to look behind you. He stands at the other end, the sun behind him obscuring his features.

Then he moves. With long, easy strides, he makes ground quickly. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he whistles a slow, off-beat tune. 

You turn and run. Your hand meets the corner at the end of the alley and you use it to redirect your momentum. Full tilt sprinting in a sundress down a public street in the middle of the day probably makes you look crazy. Leon made you look crazy.

You get to your brownstone on George Street. You take the few steps up to the front door. You throw your phone in your purse as you frantically rip through it for your keys.

Fuck, come on, where are they? Lipstick, tampon, water bottle, wallet FUCK! There. You snatch them up like they'll save your life. Your hands shake as you put them in the lock. It turns, and you take one last look to see Leon - oh shit!

He's at the base of the stairs! He takes them by two. You manage to get the door open wide enough to barely squeeze through. His hand slaps against the door but you throw your full weight against it. It slams in his face. He turns the knob. You struggle to hold it against him as you turn the dead bolt. Then the chain. He slams a fist against the door and you slowly back away from it.

A chilling thought dawns on you.

Back door.

You run to the other side of the house, tripping over shoes and a discarded purse as you do, cursing as they steal precious seconds from you. You turn the corner and run directly into the door. Your body stings from the impact. You shakily turn the lock.

Silence. For a few, long minutes, there's just silence. You wonder, disappointed, if he gave up, but take the time to catch your breath.

Your cell phone rings. Sweat rolls down your back as you answer it.

"I got you, motherfucker."

"Did you?" He asks. His voice is cool. Calm. "How confident are you that you got to the back door before I did?"

"I would have heard you come in." You aren't so sure.

"Would you?"

Your apartment is small. You approach the bedroom, then quickly snap the door open. It lies still. Empty.

"You don't scare me," you lie.

"I really almost had you there, didn't I?" He's calling your bluff as you move into the kitchen, "What do you think I would have done if I'd caught up to you?"

The kitchen is still and quiet too. You don't have an answer for him, anxiety knotting in your stomach. You take the turn into the living room.

His arms wraps around your waist with enough strength to lift you off the ground. You scream. You kick at him, but he doesn't budge, dragging you into the living room.

You see a window open.

"Did you climb the fucking trellis?" You ask, shocked and amused at the sight. He tries not to laugh.

"Yeah."

"What are you, Romeo?"

"You said you wanted romance," and then, his voice drops again to that cold, serious tone that makes you feel like prey, "isn't this what you wanted?"

He lets you go and you take the opportunity to run. But his hand is entangled in your hair, the sharp pain making you cry out. Tears gather in your eyes and you whimper. You grab his forearm and try to pull away, but the self-inflicted pain makes you freeze. He rolls his eyes.

"You're just so fucking predictable."

He drags you across the living room floor. It hurts, bare knees roughly hitting the hard wood floor. He lifts you up with an arm around your stomach. Then, he's bending you over the couch.

You try to push back against it. You struggle against him. He pulls your head back by the hair and you nearly sob.

"Please, don't," you whimper. He rolls his eyes at you.

"Not our safe word, sweetheart."

His words make you feel so beautifully helpless. The tears finally fall down your cheeks and, at the same time, you become aware of how soaked your cotton underwear is. His hand comes up and slaps you sharply. You whimper. He does it again, this time harder. The stinging in the side of your face is enough to make your pussy clench around nothing.

He pins you to the side of the couch his hands on your hips. He rolls your skirt up, and makes a choked sound at the sight of you. He tears your underwear down harshly. 

"Please, don't," he mocks with a harsh slap on your ass. "Try and tell me you don't want this."

A finger slides along your slick, from hole to clit. He presses his finger against it just slightly but it's enough to make your hips buck. He gently rolls a finger around your clit a few times, already building that high in the pit of your stomach. He barely fucking touched you and you're already desperate to cum, breath ragged, legs shaking. Leon pulls away. You whimper in disappointment. Then his hand comes down hard against your ass cheek. Then again. Then again. Then again.

The pain is overwhelming. But god, you don't want him to stop. You want hand-shaped bruises on your ass, you want to remember this every time you sit down for the next week.

"You look so pretty for me when you cry" His hand still wet from your cunt comes up and rubs your tears away, leaving an obscene mix of your tears and your desperation for him on your cheeks. The tears keep falling anyways. Then, softly, "you do remember our safe word, right?"

You nod, but you don't say it. You want to go further. You want him to hurt you more. 

“Hey, answer me when I’m fucking talking to you,” he grabs you roughly by the jaw, wrenching your face to look at him. 

“Yes,” you nod, desperately. “I remember.” 

“Wasn’t so fucking hard,” he says. He slaps you again, hard enough to stun you into a stupid, teary-eyed grin.

You hear his pants unbutton, then unzip, then fall to the ground, but you're so overwhelmed you can't move. His hand still in your hair, still tugging enough to remind you of your place beneath him, he lines his hips up with yours.

Then he's pushing into you. One, smooth motion is all it takes, your cunt greedily pulling him in. A high pitched moan escapes his throat, followed by a groaned "so fucking wet."

He fucks you deep and slow. Torturously slow, enjoying every minute of pleasure that he gets. The head of his cock presses against your g-spot, building the high like one boils water. Slowly. Your abdomen pressed against the couch makes it easier for him. The hour of teasing and adrenaline and painful foreplay has you overstimulated. But it’s really the slow, deep fucking that drives electricity through your body. Push and pull, ebb and flow, your face and ass stinging as he works. You’re already bordering on the edge, but his pace doesn’t allow you to go over. You just hover there. And hover there. And hover there. For what feels like hours you’re kept right on the edge without ever going over, building the tension inside you until it fucking hurts, and then you’re crying again. You want him to slam his hips into you, to fuck you into the couch, to do something to make you cum, but he doesn’t.

“Leon, it hurts,” you whine. 

“It’s supposed to.” 

“Please,” you beg, desperation making your voice hoarse. “Please just make me cum, please.” 

“Relax.” 

“Leon-” 

“I said relax. Or I’ll stop right now. Do you want me to stop?” 

“No,” you shake your head, hair falling into your face. 

He takes his time to smooth it back, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. He wipes more tears from your cheeks. When he speaks, though, his voice is so hard and cold. 

“Greedy little whore.” 

With no warning, he’s fucking into you harder. Faster. It only takes a few thrusts before you’re cumming on his cock. Your body tenses so hard your muscles scream, shaking and moaning and gasping for air. Your cunt tightens so hard you hear Leon breathe a fuck, baby. It feels like it lasts forever, and when you finally come down, you’re entirely dazed. 

You’re... vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, hot and sticky. But for the most part you just feel like you’re floating. Leon slowly lowers you to the floor, grabbing a throw pillow and tucking it under your head. You close your eyes. 

You wake again when the room is an orange glow, a blanket thrown over you for comfort. Leon is lounging on the couch reading a book, and when you stir, you immediately have his attention. 

“Hey,” you mumble sleepily. 

“Hey. Thought I’d let you sleep, you looked like you needed it. Why don’t I run us a shower?” 

“Yeah,” you smile softly, dreamy fuzziness still clinging to you. “I’d like that.” 

[royalsunshinehotel]

Hi baby girl (gender neutral term I call everyone) PLEASE , WHEN YOU WROTE THAT FIC WITH HIM AS A FATHER FIGURE TO SHERU I JUST 😭 I could just imagine Kid using his big hands to oil up Sheru's tiny head after showering the little man. Kid being a quiet guy, his little boy on the other hand is the biggest talker, always talking and Kid is more than happy to listen. If anything happens to this boy.......... MORE SHERU AND KID CONTENT PLEASEEE

Silly (Kid x Mom!Reader + Sheru)

Tiny. Everything about Sheru was tiny, and it was easy to tell that it fascinated him. 10 small toes, 10 tiny fingers, tiny ears, tiny eyes, lots of hair on his head. It was hard to believe that, on your weekly trip to town for supplies, you left your boys together! You trusted Kid with your son! Who was tiny! 

Looking at the boy in the tub, it was easy to see that Sheru belonged to you. The boy took all of your best features and made them small. He’d grow up to be stunning, like you, and it would be an honor to watch. Kid wouldn’t have predicted a ready-made pal when he got involved with you, and yet, here he was, and his pal was tiny. 

Taken from his thoughts by a small hand on his own, he focuses again on what his little boy is saying. 

“Ah! And then there was a panther!” And Sheru breaks into giggles as if what he said made any sense to someone over the age of three. 

“A panther?” Asks, Kid, smiling, pulling Sheru from the lukewarm water and setting him on the reed mat, towling him dry. 

“And! And! It’s Australia!!” He exclaims as Kid blinks. Of course, Australia!

Kid bundles Sheru up in the light cotton towel, and puts him under his arm, little boy squirming and giggling the whole way. 

“What do you want to do when Ama gets home?” 

“Eat!” Kid grins again. The little boy had been under the weather, and your mix of coconut milk and rice had done wonders, he wouldn’t stop! 

“But first, I sleep.” Sheru announced, shaking his head, and handing Kid the towel. He pulls on his little shorts, which were once again, tiny. Sheru wiggles for the sake of moving and starts to walk away, feet smacking on the floor of your cottage, before Kid calls him back.  

“Ah, wait.” Kid scolds gently and Sheru groans dramatically. Kid dips his hand into a jar. Kid sits on his knees, rubbing his hands together, warming the oil on his palms.  

There would have been a time he wouldn’t have wanted to touch anyone as soft as Sheru with his mangled palms, but he doesn’t mind anymore. Sheru told him ‘you grabbed the sun!’ and he simply agreed. 

“Sheru!” calls Kid, and the little boy comes marching back over, pushing his little head into Kid’s hands, with a large sigh, “You’re silly.” 

“What’s silly, Apa?” Asks Sheru, as Kid works the oil through his hair. His little dark eyes meet Kid’s and Kid hears himself laugh. It doesn’t feel real that he’s here, that you trusted him with your son. 

“You are!” 

“I’m silly!” 

Kid easily picks up Sheru, and blows a raspberry on his tummy, the little boy screams with laughter, as if it was the funniest thing in the world. 

“Silly! Silly! I’m silly!” He squirms in Kid’s arms, and Kid’s face almost hurts from smiling. The muscles hadn’t been used in a while, but here with you and Sheru, that feeling wouldn’t last long.

[narrators-journal]

Grass is greener

Okay! So, I only did the barest of skims on Feitan’s wiki as a refresher for this, and then just wung the rest off of memory. So, this might be a bit hit or miss on characterization, but I hope it’s still a good read. It came a lot easier than I thought it would, probably just because I think it’s funny to imagine someone as cruel and blood thirsty as Feitan being domestic, and maybe a little bitter about how, deep down, he’s okay with that, or enjoys it. Either way! I knocked it out p quick, and I hope you have fun reading it like I did writing it.

It felt like only a few years back, Feitan Portor had been a name that was feared across the country. His sadism had been a nightmare for just about everybody, good or bad, acquaintance, friend, or enemy. There had only been one other person who seemed to have the spine to challenge his reputation, and he’d ended up marrying that person. Together, the two had became a whole new source of fear for people.

In reality, though, that had been at least sixteen years ago now. Nowadays, the most blood the ravenette saw came from the steaks he’d order rare on date nights. The most torture he got to inflict came whenever he got the chance to teach his sixteen-year-old daughter his tactics, or on those few, rare times the two of you were able to get a full night completely free of your trio of children. Most of his day-to-day, though, was packed with far less exciting things. Parent-teacher meetings, cleaning, debates on whether or not his second youngest would be a headache or not.

God, I miss the spiders… He thought as he plucked the mushrooms out of his toddler son’s chubby hands before he could ‘stealthily’ swap it for more marshmallows. I’d even welcome Uvogin into my life again. Or, maybe I can talk Phinks into letting me torment him. Lord knows he makes enough jokes to deserve it. “Papa, papa, papa!” His hyperactive daughter chanted at the same time with a jumbo-sized box of colorful, sugary cereal held up to try and distract him from her baby brother. “Put it back, you don’t need it.” He sighed with barely a glance offered to the girl as he put his hand protectively back on the mushrooms in the cart. “But I want it!” “No.” “But I want it.” “No.” “But I want it.” She insisted stubbornly, and Feitan took a moment to ‘think’ before he responded to that one with a flat, “No.” Which, got him a very pissed off look from the little girl and a snort from his eldest daughter.

Thankfully, you returned from the depths of the store at that point, quick to snatch away the cereal and plop it back onto the store shelf. “Leave your father, and the mushrooms, alone. You guys already have sweets and cereal in the cart.” You reminded, and shut the conversation down with a swiftness. Which, made the ravenette glare at you while he watched you unclip the toddler’s child harness from his belt so that you could pick the little boy up an ease that made him smile slightly behind his face mask.

After all, of course a squirmy, mushroom-hating tot was nothing for you. If you were able to pin and go toe-to-toe with Feitan, a miniature version of you surely weighed less than a ten pound bag of rice. Maybe that’s why you have such an easier time at this than I do. He thought at you with a hint of bitterness in his own internal voice. Though, whether that came from his restlessness, or the bit of jealousy that seemed to permanently linger, even after your marriage. Though, at the same time that Feitan wished ill upon you for the sheer enjoyment of it, his attraction to you grew stronger.

How could it not? He knew how strong you were, and it was a thrill to see you use that strength to carry one of his children so easily. It proved to the ravenette that you could still fight him if you wanted, and he very much wanted to fight. “-tan? Hey, hun.” Your words abruptly flopped onto the train tracks of his thoughts to drag the pale man back to reality. Back to the commercially scented aisles of the shop and the cookies that you held out to him. “Can you go put this back and retrieve the mushrooms?” “Right.” He muttered, his mood curbed by the triumphant giggle of his second oldest child as he went back to find the mushrooms once again and return the cookies.

On the bright side, He told himself as he passed chips, dips, and bread loaves, When the spiders do finally reconvene, I’ll have at least one daughter trained in my ways. Maybe both of them if it takes long enough. I’m sure Chrollo would be very happy with that. As if Feitan would actually let his children follow the morbid life path you and him went down. Despite being a sadist, he wasn’t a Zoldyck. He wasn’t so morally bankrupt to wish his children the same difficulties he has had to deal with.

Feitan was a bit restless and unaccustomed to the domesticity of family life, yes. But, it still brought him joy to find his family in the maze of shop aisles and hear his younger daughter lisp indignantly, “But you don’t thtop her from buying candy!” “That’s because your sister’s buying that stuff with her own money, and she’s not fighting me on mushrooms.” You pointed out, before the teenage copy of himself stage whispered, “I’m also the favorite.” to relish in yours and her sister’s denial of that fact.

It wasn’t as good as the fear Feitan used to induce in people, but at least he could find joy in the knowledge that his children could be just as mean as him.

[gojosvoid-moved]

husbands aran and shinsuke would take such good care of you pls i'm actually getting emotional over it :')

they're both up earlier than you given their jobs and schedules but aran always spends some more time after his morning run and shower in bed with you, while shinsuke is already out and about. he tells you about cute dogs he saw and your plans for the day, kissing your sleepy giggles from your lips and leaving you so loved and feeling warm all over once he really has to leave. and then there's shin who always prepares breakfast for the three of you, his own little ritual before going to the fields; careful, gentle, competent hands handling the food with so much love that you can taste it once you sit down to enjoy his labor. the rice is soft, the vegetables perfectly seasoned and the freshly brewed coffee fills you both with energy and a deeply seated, all encompassing appreciation as you think of him.

shinsuke also makes sure to check in on you once he's taking his afternoon break, whether you're home or not, and the two of you talk about everything and nothing at all, simply enjoying each other's company. he picks up on all your moods and always manages to cheer you up with his loving honesty, telling you about all your qualities and the things he loves about you. your face heats up every time, no matter how long it's been since you got together, because the open, unabashed way he talks about you so endearingly leaves no room for discussion. you, in turn, give him as much love back as you can— so many heart emojis via text, your spoken thanks in case you're on the phone during your own break, or kisses if you're home with him, taking extra care to leave him a little breathless yourself, whispering soft praises and thanks against his skin.

most days, aran comes home late, given the strict training schedule he has. he is one of the best, after all, and that doesn't come from taking it easy. (you've been texting all day, though, and he always returns to his routine with a gentle smile on his lips and better posture, cherishing the sweet words and terrible memes you've been sending him. it gives him strength— to know that you're always there cheering him on, whether it's at an actual game or from home or your work place while he's training to get stronger.) shinsuke and you are both in the kitchen, soft instrumental music playing in the background as you chatter with each other, and it feels so much like home that aran's chest tightens every single evening without fail. he toes off his shoes in the genkan and moves into the beautiful, open kitchen, smile already on his face and he watches the two of you light up as you greet him. he steps towards shinsuke first, pressing a tender kiss to his lips, hand on his hip and a mumbled „tadaima“ muffled by the skin to skin contact. you watch them from your spot at the table with almost actual hearts in your eyes, face in your hands and a giddy excitement growing in your belly at having both your boys home with you again.

author's note ⊹ hi thank you for reading!!!! if you enjoyed, reblogs and likes are appreciated <3