Missionary With Your Fav Military Man, But His Dog Tags Keep Tapping You In The Face, Causing You To

Missionary with your fav military man, but his dog tags keep tapping you in the face, causing you to giggle. He scoffs and nips at you playfully before taking the chain in his teeth and thrusting even harder, fucking you up the bed in punishment

the catch

summary: kenji sato really just wants you at his game. you propose a bet instead: you’re going to come to his game but if he loses, he treats you to dinner; if he wins, he can ask you for anything in return—and ken knows exactly what he wants.

⇢ pairing: ken sato x fem!reader ⇢ contains: fluff, friends to lovers au, pining ⇢ word count: 2.0k ⇢ note: idk if people still read for ken sato but i rewatched ultraman: rising & fell in love with him all over again. reposted from my old blog with the title changed.

“It would mean a lot to me if you came.”

Kenji Sato is known for being a lot of things—handsome, talented, the best thing that’s ever happened to the world of Japanese baseball—but being sincere is not one of them. He’s an insufferable, over-confident prat most of the time, as Coach Shimura would willingly attest, and he knows all of this, too. He can’t really help it; the media eats out of the palm of his hand when he showcases his suave, debonair side.

You, on the other hand, snort inelegantly at him, swat at his shoulder, and say, “I’m busy that evening, Kenji.”

The baseball player frowns, lips jutting out petulantly. “With what? You’re usually free on Friday evenings.”

“Yeah, I’m busy,” you inform him, clutching a stack of documents to your chest. A loose sheet of paper flies out of your hold, and Ken bends down and picks it up, holding it out for you. “I need to binge-watch the newest season of Bridgerton.”

“Hey!” Kenji draws his hand back, still holding the paper. “I thought we were gonna watch that together.”

He can’t believe you would betray him like this. Binge-watching stuff together is your thing, and it always has been ever since he moved back to Tokyo. Kenji Sato doesn’t have many friends, but you walked straight into his life just like Emi did—easily and simply, like the universe decreed it. It’s a perk, he thinks, to being the secretary of the manager of the Yomiuri Giants. On one hand, you frequent his practices so often that Kenji was used to seeing you scribble down notes, sitting by the bleachers.

On the other hand, however, you aren’t forced to attend all the Giants’ matches. You tend to use the time you get off to rest and relax and rejuvenate, coming back to Ken’s next practice session with bright eyes and a happy grin.

You roll your eyes at his antics, reaching out and trying to grab the document. The baseball player merely holds his arm above his head and sticks his tongue out at you when you can’t reach it.

“Kenji,” you warn. “Give that back right now.”

“Or what?”

“Or you’ll lose the exclusive invitations our team has for the fundraising gala being held by the KDF next week, and Mr. Nishimura will have your head.”

At the mention of his manager’s name, Kenji blanches. Mr. Nishimura is known for his work ethic—he’s composed, efficient, and level-headed. But he’s also strict and scary when something impairs his meticulously thought out plans. Ken can’t possibly fathom being on his bad side; it puts dealing with Emi’s acid reflux to shame.

But perhaps… he can take advantage of this.

“I’ll give it back,” he says, “but only on one condition.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t say anything. Ken takes that as a sign to continue.

“You come to the game tomorrow.”

A brief flash of irritation crosses over your features. Kenji feels slightly guilty, but he doesn’t take back his words.

He likes you, so God help him, and keeping this confession contained within him is driving him over the edge.

“I’ll do you one better,” you challenge. Kenji is startled; he gulps at the conviction in your tone.

“I’ll come to your game tomorrow, but I have a condition too,” you say. “If you lose the game, you have to take me out to dinner.”

A slow grin spreads on Ken’s face. “Ah, but you see—I never lose.”

“Hasn’t Coach Shimura told you to cut down on that ego of yours?”

“Fine, fine. I accept.” Kenji shrugs. “But what do I get if I win?”

You consider it, brows furrowing and lips pressed together in that way you always do when you’re thinking hard about something. He waits patiently, bringing his hand back down and flicking a strand of hair out of his eyes.

Finally, you say, “You can ask me for any favour.”

“Any favour?”

“Yes, Ken.” You sigh with mock regret. “Anything.”

Kenji squints at the printed words on the paper he’s holding. “Say, does this event allow us to bring dates?”

You snatch the sheet from him, scowling. “That’s for me to know.”

“And for me to find out?”

“And for you to never find out.”

“Rude.”

The cheer of the spectators in the stadium is deafening, their excited shouts and loud claps making Kenji’s ears ring. It’s a full house tonight—Coach Shimura had informed them that all the tickets were sold out, and then grudgingly pointed at Ken and muttered, “All thanks to this fellow.” Perspiration drips off his forehead and down the sides of his face. His gloves fit his hands snugly, slightly worn out from constant use. It’s a bit humid; the dome protecting the stadium doesn’t allow natural air circulation.

Yet, despite all the noise and clamour surrounding him, all Kenji Sato can do is stare at you.

You’re leaning over the barricade, completely ignoring the relatively more comfortable seats you get in the VIP stand. Your gaze is trained on the ball, hollering obscenities when one of the Giants makes a mistake, and hooting gleefully when his team does well. Even from a distance, your enthusiasm is infectious.

That’s not the only reason Kenji Sato can’t stop looking at you. There’s another—something more devious on your part. He has to lick his lips and force himself to tear his eyes off you.

Out of all things dastardly and cunning in this world, you chose the worst kind of torture imaginable: The shirt you’re wearing, hanging loosely off your shoulders and tucked into your jeans is his jersey.

It’s an old jersey, one he wore back when he still lived in LA. With fraying edges and faded colours, it’s little more than a washed-out t-shirt. Still, it looks fucking gorgeous on you—but as exhilirating as it is, seeing you in his clothes, it’s making it so fucking hard for him to focus.

The ball whizzes just past his shoulder. He swings his bat a second too late and misses it.

Strike one.

Barely biting back a groan of frustration, Kenji ignores the taunting snicker of the opposing team’s catcher. He chances a glance at you.

You’re glaring at him, eyebrows knit together in a vicious frown and lips pressed together. He can imagine the kind of thoughts you’re having about him right now. He can practically hear your voice in his head, teasing him mercilessly for missing the ball. Ken gulps. You’re a formidable force of nature, and he does not want to get on your bad side.

Taking a deep breath, Kenji Sato reminds himself of the bet. His life depends on it.

Well, not really. Underneath the veneer of calm, composed, gentlemanly cockiness, Kenji Sato has always had a flair for the dramatics. He remembers what he’s going to ask you if he wins.

He absolutely must win. It’s a matter of life and death.

Strengthening his resolve, Kenji turns back to the pitcher and fixes him with a scowl so intent, it would make any bystander quake in their boots. He can’t wait for this match to end, can’t wait to see your brilliant smile at his victory. He also can’t wait to get back home to Emi and her mother, and his father, and tell them that he’s finally accomplished the one thing he’s been aching for ever since he met you.

When he hits the winning shot, it’s as though Kenji gets tunnel vision. He jogs across the field, giving high-fives to his teammates and shaking hands with the losing team. But he’s not concentrating much; all he can think of is you in his periphery.

He makes his way over to the VIP stand—and nearly keels over, right there, on the soft grass of the pitch.

Your smile is so blinding, it feels like something’s been lit up inside Kenji’s body.

He slows down, returning your smile. He takes off his helmet and drops it somewhere by his feet. Running a hand through his sweaty hair, he winks at you.

“So,” he says. “What do you think?”

Your grin doesn’t waver even as you insult him affectionately. “I think you’re gross and sweaty and need to take a shower, like, right now.”

“I bust my ass out there to win the stupid trophy and this is what I get as a reward?”

“Congratulations, Ken,” you say softly, sincerity evident in your voice. “You were amazing out there.”

Normally, Kenji would reply with some snarky, arrogant comment. But it’s you, so, instead, he says, “Thank you.”

“I guess I owe you something now, huh?”

He smirks, not unkindly. Elation fills his entire being.

This is it. This is what he played for today.

“I want you,” Kenji says slowly, “to go out on a date with me.”

He waits for your reaction. You gape at him as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your eyes are wide open and your mouth parts slightly. The thought that he’s made an irredeemable, irreversible mistake briefly flashes across his mind.

“Yes, oh my God!”

You fling your arms around his neck, pulling him close to you. The barricade digs into his sternum, but Kenji finds he doesn’t really care, lost in your tight embrace as he is. He wraps his arms around you as comfortably as he can and inhales your scent. Both of you stay that way for a moment, simply indulging in each other. The cheers from the crowds over his win turns into static background noise. All that exists is this: You, him, and the undeniable joy that comes from having your confession being accepted.

Kenji is loath to pull away from you, but the posture soon becomes uncomfortable, and he’s more concerned about you straining some muscle because of him.

He looks at your face, all sunshine and golden. You’re happy because of him, he thinks. He’s made you happy. What more could he possibly want?

“Can I kiss you now?” he asks, bringing his hands up to cup the sides of your face. “Even though I’m all gross and sweaty?”

You roll your eyes at him. “Like that’s gonna stop you.”

“You’re right,” Ken agrees, and then he kisses you.

It’s a burst of colours against his closed eyelids. He feels like a bunch of fireworks have gone off inside his chest, painting every part of him in warmth. Your lips are soft; you taste like breath mints and coffee, and Kenji wants more. He swallows all your gasps with his mouth, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. You clutch the front of his shirt with your hands, like you’re pulling him closer and closer, even though there is no distance to traverse.

It’s heaven.

For all the grudges that Kenji Sato holds against the KDF, he has to admit they can throw a pretty mean party.

He wonders, though, if he’s just in a good mood because your hand is wrapped around his arm.

“Have I ever told you,” you lean forward and whisper into his ear conspiratorially, “that you look incredibly delicious in a suit?”

Kenji chokes on air. You pat his back condescendingly while he splutters.

Once he recovers, he gives you a onceover (you pretend like he hasn’t been checking you out ever since you entered the venue) and tugs you towards him. “I bet you look even more delicious with that dress of yours off.”

You shiver. Kenji smirks. He’s won the battle for now. Looking around, he spots a familiar face in the crowd. “Ami!” he exclaims, waving at her.

“Hello, Kenji,” the journalist greets him, walking over to you both.

“Ami,” Kenji says, an infectious sort of excitement in his voice. He looks at you and then back at his friend, a soft smile on his lips. “I wanted you to be the first to know.”

She raises a shrewd eyebrow. “Is it something I can publish?”

“I don’t know, babe,” the baseball player says, turning to you. He doesn’t miss the knowing chuckle Ami directs at him. “Is it?”

“Yes,” you confirm, stepping forward with a hand outstretched. “It’s nice to meet you, Ami. I’m Kenji Sato’s girlfriend. Whatever this oaf tells you, don’t believe it. He thinks he won the bet, but it’s really me who won the catch of a lifetime.”

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chaieanne

4 months ago

If anyone’s gonna appreciate my sudden obsession with Baby Girl Bucky Barnes it’s tumblr

Anyway please enjoy these drawings I’ve made

4K notes View Post

chaieanne

4 months ago

cw: pleasure dom toji!!!, overstim, he’s sweet, squirting. 18+ content, penetration, little hint of anal play, fingering, oral f! receiving, established relationship

“baby, chill out,” he scolds, grabbing you by the hips and dragging you back. he knocks your legs open and you whimper, resisting.

“tojiii,” you whine, all drawn out and pretty, “please, it’s too much, i can’t cum.”

he scoffs, wet fingers rubbing against your pussy. your body locks up and he holds back a groan at the tears in your eyes. “it’s only too much because you can’t stay still. you did this to yourself, doll.”

you shake your head, stubborn as ever. “‘s not my fault! you just suck!”

eye twitching, toji presses two fingers inside without warning. “i think i’ve been too nice to you, baby.” he hums, scissoring his fingers and relishing in the way your back arches. “look at ya, talking back to me.”

he thrusts his digits, forcing your leg to open wider, while his thumb massages your clit. he presses down, applying pressure and making out little shapes.

you wriggle, tears pooling in your eyes like the drama queen you are. “no! not like thaaaat!”

“why, baby?” he questions, “you cum so quick when i have ya like this.”

you whine loudly, legs starting to shake. toji licks his lips, eyes training hungrily on your cunt. you’re almost there, but you’re fighting the urge to cum, knowing it pisses him off.

it makes him regret the fact he used to make you hold back your orgasms, only letting you cum if he said so—because now look, you’re using it against him.

but toji is competitive and he loves to win.

so he crooks his fingers just right, hooking onto that one spongey spot that guarantees his victory every. single. time.

“yeah,” he goads, watching your body suddenly lock up and wetness spew from your pussy like a geyser, “‘s what i thought.”

he rubs your pussy, just to make your squirt splash around. it’s humiliating, how he toys with your body and forces you into endless pleasure until you go stupid.

but you love it, despite the fact you like resisting, toji knows all too well that it’s just an act.

you turn onto your side, quivering from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

wordlessly, he manhandles you onto your knees, shoving your face into the mattress. you moan at the feeling of his tongue lapping at your pussy, muffling a scream when his lips latch onto your swollen clit and suck, his tongue playfully flicking your little bud.

he alternates between nibbling and sucking, reducing you to a babbling, incoherent disaster.

“cumming!” you warn, more squirt splashing shamelessly onto his face and all over the sheets. you fall forward, head turned to the side and panting.

“what a mess,” he chides, clicking his tongue. “aren’t ya ashamed?”

it’s teasing, but you’re so turned on. you hike up your knees again, wiggling your ass enticingly. you look over your shoulder, pouting. “‘m sorry, toji. didn’t mean to be messy.”

“sorry?” he asks, frantically you nod. burly hand slides up and down his cock, catching your slit and using your fluids as lube. his gaze flits to you momentarily, “yer really sorry?”

you nod again, squirming, “i am! m’ so sorry.”

toji grins, watching his cock disappear into your cunt, “then cum for me again, c’mon, hurry.”

you yell, arms unable to hold yourself up.

he plows into you mercilessly, fingers digging into the plush of your ass. your eyes widen when you feel his thumb on your other hole, rubbing it teasingly.

“what if i put my thumb in here, baby? what do you think will happen?” you feel a line of spit hit your ass, his thumb collecting it before returning to teasing your other hole. “remember your little treasure chest? swore i saw some plugs in there..”

weakly, you try to support yourself on shaky arms, moaning incoherently. “i— toji, i… ahh, mmph!”

you fall back down, face first, and he just laughs, “s’ okay, you don’t have’ta say anything. ya know why?” he goads, thrusting just a little bit harder, teasing you. “‘cause your little pussy is telling me all i need to know.”

toji groans and it’s loud, feeling your cunt squeeze down, trying to milk him for everything he’s worth. “that’s right,” draping himself over your back, his hand sneaks its way to flick your bud, relishing in your squeals and they way your body squirms.

“cum, pretty, c’mon,” he breathes, leaving spit-soaked kisses on your back, “need ya to feel good for me.”

he sings praises in your ear when he hears you gush all over the already damp sheets, moaning into your skin as his thrusts grow sloppy, before he’s dumping wads of hot cum into your battered pussy.

“fuck me,” he sighs, dragging his lips along your shoulder blades and nape, hips still pushing into your ass.

you’re whining, tears blurring your vision as you ride out the pleasure toji relentlessly gives. you’ve fallen into prone bone, too fucked out to utter words besides incoherent babbles.

his hands find purchase beside your head, dropping to his forearms, but refusing to pull out but littering your skin with feverish kisses, “did so good for me, sweets.”

he’s reassuring, knowing it’s intense for you. but toji has a mean streak that he likes to keep up, so naturally he’s teasing. “my baby, so fucked out, huh? it’s okay, you’re so cute like this. always so sweet after i dick you down enough.”

he pulls out, knocking your legs apart to watch his cum drool out of your slit. “mm, yer perfect, baby.”

you flop onto your back, pinching toji’s arm and refusing to look him in the eye. he grins, “what? you want a kiss?”

you nod slowly, cheeks burning. he just knows you too well.

but he complies, all too easily. it’s you, after all.

swallowing up your little moans, he devours your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth. burly hands cup your face, opening his eyes to see yours squeezed shut. he grins, biting your lower lip when he pulls away.

rough thumbs wipe your teary cheeks. “there’s your kiss, baby. you happy?”

“yeah…” you mutter, eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him. “another one?”

he smiles and it’s warm and full of love, leaning down, toji brushes his lips against yours. “sure doll, anything you want.”

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chaieanne

1 month ago

Sebastian Stan As Bucky Barnes Aka The Winter Soldier

Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes aka The Winter Soldier

Exclusive Outtake from Captain America: The Winter Soldier

@homoeroticfisticuffs asked for a way to find all of these outtakes so I'm gonna post this. These are all I have posted so far. I only have 5 left unreleased.

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chaieanne

7 months ago