Nikos Kazantzakis // Fyodor Dostoevsky

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

1 month ago

MDNI 18+

mentions of: oral sex (m) receiving, thumb sucking

oral sex with simon riley is absolutely filthy, dirty all around with spit, cum and tears. simon knew that he was a big guy, his cock heavy in his hands as he gave it a few hasty pumps, the roughness of his hands on his aching cock making him hiss slightly. his free hand tugging the back of your head, allowing him gently rubbing his leaking head over your plush lips, making them glisten with his precum. “give it yer all yeah? slobber all of it luvie.”

simon wasn’t a patient guy, roughly shoving his cock in fully with no warning making you gag as his fat tip hits the back of your throat. he was addicted to the way your warm mouth felt, your tongue swirling around his sensitive head. your mouth was stretched out to accomodate his girth, your jaw slightly sore before he pushed your head fully down, your nose nestled in between his messy pubes.

he had one criteria for blow jobs, you needed to be an absolute mess after.

wet squelching sounds filled the room as you drooled all over his cock, making a mess on your hands as it dribbled down the corners of your mouth then to your chin. “remember to breathe luvie, can’t have yer passin’ out on me.”

he fucked your mouth like it was your cunt, two of his large scarred hands fisting your hair forcing you to take his cock fully, a guttural groan leaving his lips. when he would come he wouldn’t stop, forcing you to mix your saliva with his cum as it dribbled down your chin, the clear liquid slightly milky now. “such a pretty girl makin’ a mess on me cock, havin’ fun luvie?” he cooed as he panted, his chest rising whilst beads of sweat were on his forehead.

roughly, he pulled his cock out, a loud ‘pop’ leaving your swollen lips as he did with a string of saliva that connected from his pinkish swollen head to your glossy lips. “such a good girl.” he praised lowly as he rubbed your lips with his thumb, before slipping it in. instinctively you sucked on it, your tongue swirling as he shoved it deeper.

“ yer have an oral fixation bun?”

his gaze dropped down to your neck and chest, the milky liquid now seeping in between your breasts. he raised a hand to gently smear it across your breasts, your skin glistening with the sticky liquid as simon made a silent claim. “might have to fuck yer tits if they look so pretty like that.” his voice low as he brought his hand covered with your saliva and his cum to your face, before smearing it on your cheeks. the sticky liquid coated your skin before simon gently ran it through your hair, making some parts clumped together.

“give me a big smile luvie.”

as you closed your eyes, a big toothy grin on your face tilted up, simon messily fisted his cock, sloppy wet sounds filling the room before he came all over your face. your lashes slightly glued and clumped together as he coated your face.

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chaieanne

4 months ago

It’s like a full-blown addiction, but instead of drugs or booze, it’s this fictional guy who’s got her wrapped around his finger. She knows it’s fucked up—knows she’s out here daydreaming about someone who’s not even real—but who cares? This guy? He’s everything. He’s charming in the worst ways, flawed in every possible sense, but there’s just something about him that has her hooked. He doesn’t even know she exists, but she’s ready to fight anyone who says a word against him. Seriously, she’ll defend his honor like it’s a fucking life-or-death mission.

He’s a goddamn trainwreck, but he’s her trainwreck. She’ll put up with all his baggage, his emotional scars, his dark sides, because somehow, that brokenness makes him feel more real to her than any real guy could. He’s messed up, but she’ll fix him in her head every single time. Maybe it’s that thrill of knowing he’s dangerous and untouchable that makes him even more irresistible. He might break her heart in a hundred ways, but it’s the kind of heartbreak that makes her feel alive, even if it hurts like hell.

And it’s never gonna happen, right? She knows that. He’s not gonna waltz into her life and sweep her off her feet. But it doesn’t matter. Because she gets to have him on her terms—no messy reality, no awkward first dates, no risking her heart for real. He’s always there when she needs him, in that perfect little bubble of fantasy she’s built for herself. And maybe she’s a little crazy for it, but at least with him, she’s never disappointed. Every time she replays his scenes, reads the fanfics, imagines their future together—it's like a high she can never quite shake. She knows it's all just a mindfuck, but she’s never felt more alive.

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chaieanne

9 months ago

㋡🥀

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chaieanne

4 months ago

Sex stuff you probably won’t learn from fanfiction and/or porn:

Erotic fic and porn can be a lot of fun! But if you aren’t being provided with adequate sex ed through other channels (comprehensive sexual education, frank and open discussions with trusted adults, etc.), turning to fanfic and porn for your understanding of sex is gonna leave some major blindspots and may leave you with some unrealistic expectations. While there’s nothing wrong with these kinds of erotica, they are fictional and tend to leave out a lot of the more realistic, human parts of sex - they serve a great purpose, but that purpose isn’t primarily educational. The following is an incomplete list of some things you should probably know about sex that a lot of fic and porn tends to leave out:

It isn’t always super hot or super sweet. Sometimes it’s super silly. Or sometimes it’s sort of mundane and you’re both simply scratching an itch. That’s fine too. (Hell, sometimes you’re talking about comic books while boning and your partner is laughing that you’re getting REALLY ANGRY about spider-man while they’re going to town on you.)

You will probably not climax at the same moment. It’s a sweet idea, but extremely hard to coordinate, and if all your concentration is going into coming at the exact same moment, you’re probably not enjoying yourselves as much as you might.

Sometimes bodies make weird, goofy noises. Squelching, slapping, air-escaping, un-sexy noises. It’s okay to laugh at this.

Hell, it’s okay to laugh during sex in general.

Sometimes you fart. Sometimes you fart while someone is going down on you and it is embarrassing as hell. This isn’t the end of the world. Embarrassing body things happen. Heck, sometimes, with anal, there’s a little poo. You get over it.

Sometimes sex is… kinda bad? This doesn’t mean it’s assault, or something traumatic – sometimes it’s consensual but just kinda bleh and not what you hoped for. The best thing to do (if you’re talking about sex with a partner and not just a hook up who you can not call back) is talk to them about it. Figure out what went wrong, what you enjoy and what you don’t, and communicate what techniques you do and don’t like. Also don’t be afraid to stop someone in the middle of the sex act you’re not enjoying and offer guidance on how to help make it good for you too. (Side tip: masturbation makes great research into what you personally do and don’t enjoy sexually)

You won’t enjoy every sex act. Not every body is wired to find every thing pleasurable. You might find anal does nothing for you. You may find g-spot stimulation just makes you really anxious that you’re about to pee. You may not enjoy giving or receiving oral. You’re not broken if you don’t like something that every pornstar or smutty fanfic protagonist seems to have earth-shattering orgasms from. Everyone’s got nerve endings in a range of places – it’s quite literally, different strokes for different folks.

On that note, not all orgasms are earth-shattering. Sometimes it just feels warm and nice. That’s fine too.

Sometimes, if you’re neutral on a sex act and your partner loves it, you can suck it up for them, and they’ll suck up something they’re not crazy about for your pleasure in return. But communicate preferences with each other! Know that when a partner does that thing you love that they don’t get much from, that it’s an act of care, and vice versa.

Falling asleep in each other’s arms right after wild passionate sex seems really romantic, but dried and crusty fluids are gonna be a bitch in the morning. Also, after sex, you should both (regardless of your equipment) go pee to clear out the urethra of any gunk or bacteria to reduce risk of a UTI.

Putting a towel down on the bed before sex means you don’t have to sleep on wet funky sheets. (it’s also verrrrrry useful for period sex if you or your partner menstruate.)

A lot of people don’t like dirty talk, or rough sex. Always ask first. (Fanfic on the whole does a better job than porn at showing communication, but a lot of it is still highly fictive on this point)

PROTECTION PROTECTION PROTECTION. Use condoms, dental dams, etc. not just to prevent pregnancy, but to reduce risk of STIs. (Yes, even couples with the same genitals who don’t need to worry about pregnancy).

Lube is great and very important, but random goopy things around you are not good lube. Random oils especially, since oil doesn’t flush out well and can trap bacteria inside the body – oil-based lubricant also degrades condoms. Use lube specifically designed for intimate purposes. Water-based and silicone-based lubes help sex feel really good!

Bigger isn’t necessarily better. A lot of people with vaginas don’t enjoy the feeling of being repeatedly punched in the cervix by a monster cock. Some people enjoy a larger size when being penetrated by an appendage or toy and some don’t.

Bodies are hairy. Genitals are hairy. You may get a pube stuck in your teeth at some point. If your partner is WAY fuzzier than porn ever led you to believe they’d be, well, that’s normal.

Not everyone loves the taste of ejaculate. Sometimes it’s nasty (flavor tends to vary from person to person depending on their diet, but sometimes you just really don’t like it no matter what. Some of us hate the taste of peanut butter. People don’t always like things). It’s okay not to swallow, or to request a penis-having partner warn you so they don’t ejaculate in your mouth (in fact, it’s polite for them to do the latter).

If you’re gonna have shower sex, get one of those rubbery mats for the shower floor that gives you traction, because otherwise it’s super embarrassing to call for an ambulance while dripping wet and naked because you slipped and accidentally broke something and your partner got a concussion while you were trying to bang in the shower.

Moaning and screaming wildly during sex is fun but it will make the neighbors in the apartments adjacent to you hate you. Make choices accordingly.

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chaieanne

5 months ago