#hajime kashimo x reader

[konigbabe]

steal the thunder - I -

Pairing: Hajime Kashimo x fem!sorcerer!reader Word count: 5.8k Tags/warnings: no y/n; unhinged reader; manga spoilers (Culling Games + Perfect Preparation arcs); fight description; canon-typical violence; there will be eventual smut in the later parts fyi Summary: There's murder in the air – with the Culling Games underway, a simple task of finding an angel turns to a fight for life when you meet a certain, static and 400 years old sorcerer with cyan hair and wicked intentions.

Artwork by poro (poro06625649) on Twittter [source]; divider by @skylightlantern [source] For a better understanding of the reader's CE and CT, visit this Tumblr post.

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There's murder in the air – an unsettling undertone that pollutes the atmosphere. Gentle breeze carrying the metallic fragrance of blood within its currents.

The dockside keeps quiet. Sky clear, devoid of seagull calls. Walking by colossal steel shipping containers, stacked high, the scent persists. Clings to the air like a persistent specter. Each step accompanied by the gentle lap of waves against the pilings, their rhythmic cadence a stark contrast to the horrors you've seen.A soothing lullaby in the midst of chaos.

The maze-like layout of the quayside comes to an end when your muscles strain, lifting off the ground and landing atop the steel structure.

A giant panda comes into view. Its relaxed posture, perched on hindlimbs, contrasts with its impassive countenance as it gazes your way.

"Panda," you address what some might believe to be an actual animal; innocent, cute and completely harmless. Except for this Cursed Corpse – your subordinate – is none of those things.

He fixes you with your very name; a disturbing familiarity in his eyes, then the words escape his lips.

"The smell of blood's so thick," he voices as you draw near, words cutting through the tension. "There must be about three people dismembered here–"

You hold up two fingers, the other hand nestled in your pocket.

"Two actually," you intervene, voice a measured interruption, "walked past a man with a hole the size of a soccer ball in his chest."

The memory resurfaces – the sight of the man, head drooping, neck bent at an unnatural angle. Eerie web-like burns sprawled across his bare flesh. The smell of singed skin and ozone hangs in the air, a pungent reminder. Yet, it's not just that which jolts your senses. It's the residual static of someone's cursed energy, an unsettling presence that lingers.

"But that's not what troubles me," continuing, you stand next to Panda, arms now crossed as both of you watch the lifeless skies, "something bad's here. I tried following the remnants of the cursed energy of the perpetrator but it was very faint."

"Could be an expert who can turn their cursed energy on and off at will…" Panda thinks out loud.

You let the idea sit for a second. Could it be the case? Could someone in this colony be capable of doing it? Known, registered sorcerers are absent here. The majority are newly awakened, scarcely equipped to comprehend a sophisticated notion like this. And why would they feel the need to hide their cursed energy?

No.

Dismissing your doubts, you shake your head and stride toward the edge of the shipping container.

"Don't think so. Nevertheless, we're here to find that angel girl and negotiate with her." Stepping onto the container's edge, unfazed by the high drop; balancing skillfully, you extend one leg over the edge, about to step into empty space. In a seamless motion, you touch down on the solid concrete ground below.

Panda follows suit, rolling off the shipping container with agility, landing right beside you. Then he stands, an odd combination of human-like stance and panda appearance, more akin to a person in a panda costume than an actual animal.

"Our safest bet is to leave the docks. Fast. Just play pretend, avoid any unnecessary conflicts and make it out of this colony in one piec–"

The sentence's left hanging as a sudden shift in the atmosphere catches your attention. Panda falls on all fours, frozen still.

"Ah," a deeper, resonant voice rumbles from your right, the words echoing as the familiar sensation washes over you. A sudden buzz inside your mind, an abrupt surge of awareness regarding another sorcerer's presence. Heart mirroring the rapid flutter of a startled bird's wings.

Their cursed energy, concealed and latent, manages to evoke an almost primal response within you. A sense of fight or flight.

You pivot to face the uninvited presence before you.

A cascade of hair, vivid as a robin's egg and kissed by the hues of a clear summer sky, is gathered into twin buns atop his head while tendrils of untamed locks dance freely in the breeze, resembling a stormy sea. Longer bangs frame the contours of his face, softening his visage.

He stops when his eyes – the same uncanny shade as his hair – bore into yours. Carrying what you'd guess is a Nyoi staff slung over his shoulder, he stands at a slight angle. Excludes casual confidence, a sense of poised readiness.

"Another one," he breaks the silence. You stand your ground in response to his observation.

"Not interested in a fight," you remark, hands risen in a defensive gesture. Yet you don't dare take your eyes off the sorcerer. Ready and composed.

Panda, ostensibly cautious, inches closer to you, fur bristling in sync with his unease towards the newcomer's presence. The air tightens, charged with the unspoken potential for violence.

"Kogane," he calls out to the shikigami, summoning it like a wisp from the aether; the small creature materializes, its hue the shade of a serene lake, light and amicable as it floats near his head, "is the panda a player too?"

The shikigami screeches its answer, its words setting everything in motion.

"Indeed!! A player! Yep!!"

"That's a function," your pondering voice meets a forced silence. The state of perturbed ambiance vanishing as your thoughts are cut off.

A flesh of white. Empty space occupies the spot where the sorcerer was standing less than a second ago.

You sense his presence before your eyes even settle on his countenance; his eyes, framed with short zig-zag lines reminiscent of lightning bolts underneath them, a furious cauldron of murderous excitement as they lock onto yours. They widen with a manic intensity. An undertone of madness lurking deep within their depths.

A predator's gaze fixated on its prey.

In a heart-stopping moment, time stands still. The world around you fades into a blur as a primal instinct takes over. Your body reacts; a precision born of pure reflex – muscles coiled like springs, you counter his attack with a swift and calculated movement.

His volatile energy crackles in the air. Your hands snap up. Fingers attempting to curl around his bandaged forearm. Channeling your cursed energy to your clavicles, the place where his palm lays flat against you –

But your reactions prove inadequate. You're too slow. A shocking speed and heavy push; a surge of force is sent through your body, catching you off-guard. The ground beneath you becomes a temporary adversary. Your balance disrupted as you're sent flying backward.

Back colliding with the hard, metal steel of a shipping container – you watch in horror as the sorcerer mercilessly attacks Panda. Using his staff as a weapon. With unnatural speed and agility, Panda struggles against him; his valiant resistance a testament to his determination, his form a blur of motion as he evades the sorcerer's attacks and manages a few good blows of his own.

Your body feels light. A tingling sensation surging through your veins. Electric current's rushing beneath your skin, setting your pulse racing and your focus to a razor's edge. The metallic taste of blood floods your mouth. Mingles with the adrenaline in your body. Every nerve firing in response to the raw energy pulsing through your body.

It hits you then–

"Heh, electricity," you mumble, the word slipping from your lips as you raise your palms, clenching your fists. Feeling the tingling in the tips of your fingers. The slight buzzing in your ears.

–his cursed energy has a special trait. One certainly hard to defend against.

Barely seconds have passed since your body was forced to rest against the ground. It still feels too long with Panda barely matching the man's speed and force.

Gritting your teeth, the urgency of the situation anchors you, overriding any pain or disorientation as you fight to regain your footing. A sense of pride fills you when you watch Panda use his technique, striking the sorcerer with enough force that'll easily knock him out cold. One of Panda's winning moves.

Except it doesn't.

"Nice one," the man's voice rings out. A taut smirk playing at the corner of his lips. Your teeth clench, disbelief intertwining with unease as you watch. With a predominated precision, the sorcerer maneuvers his staff, entwining it with Panda's arm in a smooth motion that catches you off guard.

Exerting a forceful pull, he forces a grimace from Panda. Right arm caught in the vice-like grip, a sickening crack underscores the moment. Followed by the nauseating sensation of Panda's arm being torn from his body. Violently. And mercilessly.

Panda stumbles. Pain and agony escaping in a cry. The sorcerer doesn't waste a second. Hurls the arm back at Panda, using the momentum to charge forward. Palm aiming flat against his chest, he sends Panda flying backward – the same way he did to you. Causing your junior to experience a similar sensation to yours.

The cyan-haired man straightens, seemingly relaxing, already content with winning the fight.

"But I'm not impressed," he taunts, words an ominous echo of the violence just unleashed, "It's too ordinary."

Feeling the concrete beneath your feet, you take deliberate steps forward. With an inkling of Panda's potential strategy, you expel the pooled blood from your mouth, spitting it onto the ground.

"...Sukuna, you know where he is?" The man's words flow, attention diverted, ignorant of your presence.

A fortunate circumstance.

"No clue," Panda responds. His reply burdened with weariness and defeat; yet his gaze remained fixed on you, a silent exchange of understanding passing between you as you position yourself, tension radiating from his weary form.

The sorcerer scoffs; a contemptuous tilt of his head, a gesture laden with superiority. "Sounds like you know something, then," he snarls, his grip on the staff constricting as his fist clenches, "Spit it out. I'll be merciful."

With the sorcerer's back turned you raise your arm. Your gaze remains fixed upon the convergence point of the two delicate lines, their path crossing at the very heart of the expanse that's the upper part of his broad back.

"I won't be," you declare; voice carrying a firm tone. A deft flick of your wrist – the current of cursed energy takes the desired shape before it's hurled toward your target. Slashing the air in front of you, aimed right at him.

His gaze veers to the side. And in a fraction of a heartbeat, he moves; executing a skillful sidestep. Body positioned to face you from the side, both hands now gripping his staff, aiming it at you; a glint of fervor ignites his eyes as they widen, locked onto the shipping container stationed behind Panda. The unforgiving force of your attack rends the shipping container apart, leaving two gaping slashes that could bisect a man.

You don't give him time to react properly.

The moment blood begins to stain his white robe crimson red from the nick on his shoulder, you lunge forward. Like a bull being waved a red flag. Feet imbued with your cursed energy, reinforced to ensure protection.

As you close the distance at a breakneck pace, you sense the distinct composition of his cursed energy. With your fingers curled around the staff, your eyes meet his, a faint grin playing at the corners of your mouth as you tug on his weapon with your full body weight. Lifting your legs off the ground, you use the staff as a fulcrum. His body feels resilient, akin to forged steel, against the soles of your shoes.

With the potency of your cursed technique coursing through your strike, the man is propelled backward, his body hurtling through the air. The Nyoi staff clings to the concrete. Left untouched upon the impact.

Flying through a shipping container, he quickly finds his footing. Stance shifting in response to your aerial maneuver. Legs splayed to establish a firm foundation, you focus your intent on targeting his jaw. Fists charged with cursed energy, you hit once; knowing how troublesome the push-and-pull effect of your technique feels once your flesh makes contact–

"Not bad," he manages to spit out, the corner of his lip stained red. A smile tugs at the corner of his lip as you sprint toward him.

The surroundings blur into a muddled backdrop, irrelevant in your unwavering concentration. The sorcerer becomes the sole axis, a focal point in a world that seems to slow to a crawl, even though only a fraction of a second has passed.

The tip of your foot touches his; a mere whisper of contact between two opposing forces.

"Not bad at all."

–he counterattacks. Hand darts forward. Grabs your wrist. With an economy of motion, he employs your own momentum against you. His grip becomes a pivot, briefly throwing you off-balance, diverting your forward surge into an unexpected spiral.

Fluidity. That's how you'd characterize his movements. A seamless transition from being a passive target to an active agent.

His chest brushes against your back as his right hand remains locked around your right wrist. Single-handedly swinging your body like a marionette, you exploit the vulnerability of your position. Using his grip as leverage to move backward, simultaneously grabbing hold of his bandaged left forearm and pulling. Crashing your body into his, redirecting the movement into a collision.

With a potent surge of intention, you force the prepared rejection and attraction effect within your clenched fist, propelling it like a bolt toward the rear of your skull. Teeth gritted, you throw your head back.

Crack.

He stifles a groan, a step taken back but footing resolute. A red trail paints his nose as you swivel to confront him. Pausing briefly to charge your energy again, you grant him a moment to speak. His expression freezes as he locks eyes with you

"You," he speaks up, his voice textured with the tang of iron as his tongue grazes his lips, "Have we met before?"

With your hand still tingling, the ripples of sensation spread up your arm, an electric current tracing a pattern beneath your skin. Your head sways subtly, dispelling the notion of a previous encounter. "Unlikely. You'd be history."

A chuckle dances from his lips, a response to your retort. "What's your name then?"

You share it deliberately, each syllable a measured beat in your dance around one another. He nods, his head tilting with self-assured grace. It's then that he takes his stance – feet planted firmly, palms outstretched, a grin playing on his lips.

"The name's Hajime Kashimo."

The words hang, a telltale echo–

Hajime Kashimo.

–recognition snaps into place when you repeat his name in your mind.

The Hajime Kashimo, the sorcerer whose score reaches a hundred points; a mark that sets him apart from any other Culling game player (except for the intricate Hiromi Higuruma). Hakari's elusive target.

And here, right before you, stands the man himself.

"Hey," you call out, a new determination blossoming, your stance embracing the challenge; retreat is no longer a consideration, "if I beat you, can I get your points?"

The corners of Kashimo's lips twitch, smile fading like a wisp of smoke carried away by the wind. Expression blank, with only his brows furrowed as he responds, "Sure, but you tell me everything y'know about Sukuna," his voice lowered to a dangerous undertone, a velvet threat veiled in words, "that is–if you're still alive."

He charges then. Doesn't spare a single consideration. The air crackles with tension as his presence engulfs you. His hands make contact – not with fists or strikes – but with the calculated pressure of his open palms. You feel the weight of his touch on your skin. Pressure on your left, then on your right ribcage.

"Don't disappoint me now," breath tickles your ear, voice a tantalizing, dangerous melody. His fingers anchor firmly onto your right shoulder, an assertive grip that both commands and unsettles, while his other hand exerts a calculated force on your left shoulder guard, propelling you into a spin.

Your training surges forth, a symphony of muscle memory and instinct harmonizing within you. With the resilience born of countless battles, you swiftly adapt your stance, shifting your weight to face him.

An annoyed huff leaves your now-bruised lips. You channel your own cursed energy, a torrent of power surging through your veins.

Detain an attack when it comes,–

Knees bending, body swaying to evade the incoming fist; your left hand grips his left wrist, fingers tightening with determination, followed by your right driving into its intended mark.

–and send it away when it retreats.

Your palm meets the solid plane of his chest with a resonant thud; pushes and then pulls him back to you before sending him away again; successfully pushing back against Kashimo's pressure. It's a momentary reprieve. One that sends the sorcerer tumbling back, makes him roll on the ground, lending on one knee.

"Here I thought we were just getting started," you quip with a hint of playfulness amidst the dance of combat. Moving swiftly towards the target. As Kashimo's force ebbs, you seize the opportunity, your muscles coiling like springs.

"You're getting me–" he barely makes it back to his feet before you're at him again. With enough cursed energy imbued into your foot, utilizing the momentum of your motion, leg rising up in a calculated kick – only for Kashimo to shift; a fraction of movement that proves decisive. His arm weaves beneath the arc of your thigh, a sinuous and serpentine maneuver that seeks to entwine and subdue. As his grasp tightens, his fingers snake around your throat, lifting you from the ground, suspending you momentarily.

"–quite excited," he concludes, his voice tinged with an eerie excitement.

Once the hand is freed from contact,–

A heartbeat's pause feels like an eternity. With your legs rendered weightless and no stable ground beneath you. Despite the vulnerable position, your mind remains steadfast, honing in on Kashimo's Achilles heel. His hands are preoccupied, his grasp unwavering but his neck and face exposed.

–carry out a strike with it.

Seizing the opportunity, you make the most of the opening. Your palms press against the sharp contours of his cheeks, each hand finding its place on one side of his face. In one swift and deliberate motion, you channel the wellspring of cursed energy that resides within you into your technique. The currents of your energy converge between your palms, weaving a tapestry of arcane force that manifests as a palpable vacuum, centered precisely where his head rests.

It's an intentional manipulation. One – if done right, that is – could even lead to a cataclysmic implosion. A violent severing of life from the body. But you don't want to kill him; not yet at least. You need the points. And so, you temper your approach, exerting only the necessary amount of energy to induce a sensation of compression.

As the feeling envelops him, Kashimo's expression shifts, a flicker of realization that dances within his eyes. He instinctively withdraws. Bandaged forearms push at your body, sending you hurtling backward; a testament to his strength and strategic finesse.

"You cheeky little thing," a bead of blood traces a path from the corner of his eye. At the same time, another droplet emerges from his nose.

This time it's him who doesn't let you regain enough control as he charges at you. His approach swift and unrelenting. The tables are constantly turning – now being his time to dictate the tempo.

Another dance of offense and defense plays out as the two of you clash once again. Each move a deliberate response to the other's actions.

Chase the movement of the opponent–

As the flurry of his strikes slices through the air, you find yourself navigating the ebb and flow with a synchronicity that borders on the sublime. With a hawk-like focus, you track the trajectory of his hand, your senses attuned to his every motion.

While his hits continue to swing through both empty space and meeting your body, a fleeting opportunity presents itself. With the precision of a seasoned sorcerer, you follow the path of his hand with your own, fingers closing around his forearm as it narrowly misses your cheekbone, the other digging into the open slash wound on his shoulder.

–to continue the attack.

It earns you a hiss. A "Tsk," coming from his damaged lips.

One fluid motion; one that belies your strength. You capitalize on the momentum of his own swing, utilizing your grip to exert control. Your foot surges forward with unbridled force, the sole of your shoe connecting with the vulnerable juncture of his knee.

Kashimo's reflexes kick in as he instinctively leaps back the moment your foot makes contact with his leg. His visage bears the marks of battle, a canvas adorned with streaks of red, the vestiges of blood from the prior exchange. A mirror to his appearance, your own face likely reflects a similar narrative. Marked by the intensity of the confrontation. By his pure, physical prowess. One that, even if you use all your cursed energy, you're certain you couldn't match.

The shadows of weariness begin to cast their subtle touch on you. A weight that tempers your movements and shadows the clarity of your thoughts. Each calculated step, each strategic strike, seems to bear an additional burden now.

Still, resolute, your unwavering determination fixated on Kashimo, persevering in the face of creeping exhaustion.

Then you take off.

With a surge of action, you propel yourself into motion. Pivoting on your heel, you sprint toward the towering container crane a mere few meters behind. Kashimo's quick thinking registers in the corner of your vision—a flash of white on your right, drawing nearer.

"Running so soon?"

His taunting words reach you.

"Just limbering up," you reply. Muscles tensing, you feel his energy almost brushing against your own. So, with a leap, you vault into the air. Fingers curling around your ankle.

Time seems to slow as Kashimo's grip tightens around your ankle, his fingers like a vice attempting to anchor you to the ground. The world spins around you, the crane's towering structure becoming a blur as your body is abruptly yanked back, denied the freedom of flight.

Instinct kicks in, your mind racing to find a solution. With a swift twist of your body, you channel the energy within, your cursed power surging to your fingertips. A burst of force courses through your arm, the concentrated energy propelling your free leg forward in a powerful kick. Your heel connects with Kashimo's face, the impact forcing his grip to release.

In the split second of regained freedom, your body soars toward the container crane.

Muscles strained, you manage to grab hold of a protruding metal edge, fingers gripping with an iron determination. The harsh clang of metal meeting metal reverberates through the air as your body comes to a halt, swinging slightly from the momentum before you propel yourself higher onto the structure.

A smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. The distance between you and Kashimo now a tangible reminder of your evasion. His frustrated gaze meets yours, the tension between you electric and palpable.

"Nice try," you retort, voice laced with a mixture of weariness and defiance. There's an undeniable satisfaction in defying his grasp, in proving your prowess even amid exhaustion. Without wasting a moment longer, you hoist yourself up more, using the crane's structure to propel your body upward. Your form melds with the steel as you ascend, a maneuver to gain the vantage point.

Gotta limit his movement to the minimum.

Kashimo's expression shifts, a glint of admiration piercing through his irritation. "Impressive," he concedes, the words carrying an unexpected note of respect, "but you can't run from me."

He follows your lead. The two of you ascending the crane in a synchronized rhythm

"I told you, Kashimo–," you declare, your voice echoing between the steel beams as you reach the crane's zenith, standing face to face on the narrowest edge.

Now standing face to face on the crane's uppermost beam, the narrow back reach providing only small support. Your breath heaves, each inhalation a reminder of the intense exertion. Across from you, Kashimo's gaze remains fixed upon you, his expression deceptively relaxed.

"–that I'm only stretching."

His eyes, however, tell a different story – a depth of focus that cuts through your form. Anchoring onto you with an unwavering intensity.

A mournful melody weaves through the metal lattice, the wind's haunting whistle creating an eerie harmony with the tension in the air. The gusts playfully tousle both your hair in the process. You steady yourself into a stance, your body a testament to both resilience and purpose.

"Plus I want those points," you remark, a hint of determination coloring your words.

It's then that you charge — cursed energy flowing through your body like currents of compressed emptiness. A void. Unyielding. Relentless. And pneumatic.

With a flick of your wrist, you send it slicing through the air. A blade of nothing. A thin line etches across his chest, traversing from ribcage to his already wounded shoulder — a mark of your earlier endeavor. Nowhere to dodge now that he's standing between two metal beams.

Or so you thought.

Kashimo charges. The white of his robe tainted with scarlet. The cut isn't deep.

He must've reinforced his cursed energy.

"Tsk," you utter. A flicker of irritation crosses your features. Agitated. With waning stamina, the dwindling reservoir of cursed energy depleted by your previous usage; this could've been your last-ditch effort.

The final move.

And it failed.

It makes him smile. A sinister twist of lips that morphs into a grin. Moving fast, his expression resembles one of a predator closing in on its prey. The ruby stain on his robe seems to accentuate his aura of danger, a stark contrast to the pristine white it once was.

As your body contorts and arches backward, you skillfully evade the incoming fist aimed at your face. Your unwavering gaze remains locked onto his intense stare. With your palm pressed flat against the ground of the crane, you swiftly raise your leg, delivering a targeted strike to the meat of his thigh.

But before your maneuver can fully unfold, his hand seizes your ankle, pulling you towards him and locking your leg in place as he maneuvers over your body. Kashimo's grin widens, a predatory glint in his eyes that triggers a ripple of unease down your spine.

As his fist whizzes past your face, you seize the opportune moment to mount a counterattack. His fingers, still harshly locked around your right ankle, you push and pull against his grasp. Leg successfully moving to close over his thigh, the other hooking around his hip.

Legs now firmly encircling his waist, you use every ounce of your strength to push. Destabilize the sorcerer. Break his foundation. Disrupt his equilibrium.

The outcome? Both of you soaring through the air and down the crane. Kashimo's form aligns perfectly with the approaching solidity of the dockside concrete.

A rapid free fall, gravity's pull unrelenting.

If you're not getting the points, he's not getting his answers either.

His eyes momentarily flit to the ground below. Unspoken recognition of the shared peril that binds you both. The realization dawns in his eyes, widening them momentarily, before his gaze settles onto your face once more – unimpressed. Jaded.

"Oops," you jest under your breath, fingers finding purchase on the fabric of his torn clothes. An unhinged smile on your lips, eyebrows lifting in a mix of audacity and exhilaration. The wind sweeps through, rustling your hair with a cool caress that contrasts starkly with the warm stickiness of blood on your skin.

"It's accumulated enough."

That's the only forewarning you get. In an instant, the atmosphere shifts; an electrifying tension that dances along your skin. You sense the already familiar tingling as the static charges from the man beneath you. Kashimo's cursed energy now gaining intensity.

His open hand thrusts towards your face, a surge of energy gathering at his fingertips. Only to get countered by your own palm. Flat against each other. Forcing a focal point of energy converges and resistance to form. As the push effect comes into play just in time with waves of electricity.

The crackling intensity escalates, its tendrils reaching out with an insatiable hunger. Only to be pushed back by your own manipulation acting as a steadfast wall. It's a symphony of sensations — the tingling of your skin, the hum of power in the air, the gradual crescendo of pressure between your palms. The vortex throbs and pulses, a living embodiment of the forces you both wield.

The thing is – The conductivity of the vacuum…depending on how you look at it, it behaves in two different ways:

Firstly, when you examine the motion of charged particles with a constant velocity within a vacuum, you encounter an interesting phenomenon. Unlike in other mediums, there is no opposing force acting against these particles. Consequently, maintaining a steady current across any surface within a vacuum demands no additional effort.

However, a contrasting phenomenon manifests when we consider the existence of free charges within conductors. When an electric field, denoted as E, is imposed upon a conductor, it triggers a flow of electric current. This internal charge movement gives rise to a current density described by the equation: J = σE, where σ symbolizes the conductivity of the material. Notably, within a vacuum, σ assumes a value of 0; hence, electric fields lack the capacity to spontaneously induce current flow.

In this context, the vacuum departs from the role of a conductor. Even materials known as insulators, which typically restrict the flow of current, possess conductivity values that are low but not completely absent.

As a result, the resistance exhibited by a vacuum effectively amounts to infinity—particularly when you define resistance through the lens of how charge carriers in a substance respond. Viewed from this perspective, you could liken the vacuum to an insulator, given the absence of charge carriers that are essential for the propagation of electric current.

So in the end, your innate ability functions like an antistatic force.

It should be enough to counter his attack. Neutralizing his endeavor and ricocheting it back to him. Only if his other hand, clenched into a fist, suddenly hasn't entered your line of sight, aiming for your jaw.

The controlled push-only effect falters. Then crumbles. The void's pull reclaims all that Kashimo had imparted, drawing it back with an insatiable greed.

"Damn you." It now comes down to the last aspect of your technique.

Implosion.

The energies within your vacuum field converge, collapsing inwards with a blinding intensity. A jarring impact against the back of your head – or it might be the ending of your fall. Everything's just confusing. Everything blurs into a disorienting haze of continuous events.

The unforgiving touch of concrete grates against your scraped back. Each breath, now shallow and ragged, causes pain.

Above, the sky stretches wide and boundless. Until the sight is blocked by a mop of cerulean blue hair. Two buns somehow still in place. Same-colored eyes staring at your form. Arms folded and a countenance marred by bloodstains and scrapes. Each leg positioned on either side of your hips before one presses against the flat of your clavicles.

"You're quite durable," Kashimo retorts, pushing his weight down on you, "that should've killed you right there."

"Heh," you manage a wry chuckle, your voice strained but defiant, "guess I'm full of surprises."

He raises an eyebrow, a flicker of almost-amusement dancing in his eyes. The world around you seems to blur at the edges, the strain of the plummet combined with the failed attempt of your innate technique taking a heavy toll on your senses.

"It's been a while since I've encountered someone who can keep me on my toes this long. Now tell me," your name rolls off his tongue in a taunting lilt, "where's Sukuna?"

The distant sounds of the dockside begin to fade, replaced by an eerie emptiness. Despite your unwavering determination, a tide of dizziness threatens to engulf you, and you struggle to maintain your focus on Kashimo's face.

"On vaca–"

The weight on your chest vanishes abruptly. Kashimo's foot makes fleeting contact with your cheek before returning to its original place.

"Don't play with me. Spit it out."

"Oi," a voice calls to your right. A voice you know; Hakari's, "It's not very chivalrous to strike a lady like that."

From here, everything dissolves into darkness.

The world sways, a disorienting dance of shadows and sensations. Light pressure settles on your stomach with sounds echoing faintly in the distance. A gentle, steady rhythm envelops you as if you're being cradled in a cocoon of safety. Your limbs feel weightless, as though the ground beneath you has transformed into a soft cloud that carries your burdens away.

Your mind struggles to tether itself to the present, grappling with the fragments of consciousness that slip through your grasp. Colors blur, merging into a hazy kaleidoscope of fleeting images. The arms that encircle you exude warmth thought. One that lulls you back to sleep.

Yet you manage to summon the strength to part your heavy eyelids. Through the haze, you see a blur of black and white on top of you. Head resting upon something firm and solid – a breastplate, you realize. The rhythmic cadence that envelops you is accompanied by the subtle rise and fall of breath, a heartbeat that resonates beneath your cheek.

"Panda," you murmur, voice a tentative whisper as you attempt to comprehend whether or not you're dreaming, considering the creature on you is now a size of an actual teddy bear.

The toy-sized Panda remains seated on you but looks your way, emitting a surprised yelp at the sound of your voice, before swiftly turning his gaze forward again, "Hakari, she's awake!"

Your vision – still blurred – manages to trace a figure walking at the edge of your peripheral sight – left arm missing, shirt gone (he's shirtless, you discern), and crowned with purple hair. Hakari. But if Hakari's walking in front of you. Then…

Lifting your eyes, you suddenly lock onto a fleeting sight of vibrant cyan hair. The once-pristine white attire now soaked and marred with splotches of vivid red, creating an unsettling contrast. Your heart skips a beat as the realization dawns upon you.

It's Kashimo who bears the weight of your limp form.

"She's gonna pass out soon again," his voice carries vibrations that travel from his chest to your cheek with his gaze fixed upon you.

And he's right as your body, weary and battered, succumbs once more to the embrace of slumber.

[nanamiskentos]

MY STRATEGY ✤ 呪術廻戦

SYN. ➤ You're a man-eater, and he's just a light snack. A.K.A how you're just driving these sorcerers wild. ૮ • ﻌ - ა

𝐉𝐉𝐊 ➤ Getō, Sukuna, Chōsō, Tōji, Hiromi, Naoya, Gojō, Kashimo

cw ─ MDNI. afab!reader, màting préss, oràl (m), food play (?), drunk séx, semi-public séx, bàckshots, breéding kínk, proposals, créampié, bathtub séx, jealousy, wall séx, ooc naoya, reader is called a slút, cowgírl, pràise kink, big díck gojo, face sítting, oràl (f), múnching

wc. tba

呪術廻戦 NOTE ( author says ) someone requested a jealous!naoya fic so i just incorporated it in this 😭 and as a returned reward for me, i decided to add kashimo so we actually won 😁

➤ GETO SUGURU

"Fuckin' soaking all over me, darling. I'm really g-gonna' –"

Frankly, much of this evening has become a blur for Geto but he can faintly remember seething at those useless cunts over at the temple, and at the stack of paperwork piling up on his desk (yeah, apparently running a cult involves a lotta' bureaucracy).

He had thrown aside the heavy violet gojō-kesa, rummaging away for a faded, dark hoodie and thick cargo pants. He remembers knocking at the door of your apartment, and doing his best not to fall to his knees when you sweetly answered the door, pulling him in by the hand.

And somehow, between that blurry haze and him desperately kissing his girlfriend like his very life depended on it, Geto had found himself a happy, happy man, with your pretty ankles twitching around his shoulders. Pressing deeper into you, so your thighs were knocked straight up against your chest — pressing right into the fat of your tits as he slapped his hips right up against yours in the meanest mating press possible.

Your hands are in the mood to wonder too, it seems. Trembling ever so slightly for the surefire hits that Geto delivers when his rummaging, girthy cock thwacks! into you, over and over.

But your nails are running over the traditional dragon design that licks and curls up his left arm, trailing over his upper bicep where the ink tapers off over his back. A tattoo, something from his early days, often hidden underneath the draping robes he dons at the temple.

"Thaaat's my good girl," Geto murmurs, running his tongue behind his teeth, jostling himself closer to you so he could sip at your pretty mouth once more. Slick strands of saliva glistening between your lower lip and his, violet eyes narrowed as he feels your pussy clench around him in such a dizzying way.

"M-missed you so bad, Sugu', all day." You're whining, cunt twitching and quivering, releasing dribbling puddles of slick all over the fresh bedsheets.

Geto just chuckles, nipping his teeth over the juncture of your collarbone, leaving a faint, bruised mark that is certain to bloom into pretty petals, "I know, think ya' might have missed me jus' a bit too m-much, hmm?" Dipping a fat thumb to roll at your clit, "Pretty pussy was already sticky n' wet for me when I got here."

How sweet. Geto's practically swabbing every inch of your insides with his cock, and yet, the mere mention of him knowing about your lovely fingers spreading yourself apart and playing with yourself has you flushing so beautifully. God, Geto thinks to himself, if he doesn't marry you, he might really just die.

"Look at ya', wish I could take a photo," Geto murmurs, and you can hear just how much he truly does love you. Your (mildly suspicious) enigmatic boyfriend with his titan-steel thighs, and choppy dark hair is whispering sweet nothings in your ears, professions of loves that you know will make him fluster and blush all the more sweetly later on, "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen in m' whole life."

Raking your nails past the hypnotising dragon tattoo, to claw at his rippling biceps. Crimson lines blooming in your wake, as crescent edges leave their mark in a way that makes Geto groan. "Gonna' cum for me, baby? Can f-feel ya' sucking me up, god."

The rhythmic clenches of your pussy, the sheer, powerful arc of clear fluid spraying over Geto's groin and drenching his cock are enough to make the man moan, loudly, and not giving a single fuck at who hears. He's only burying himself further into you, driving himself right home with each spattering drivel and swivel of his hips into your glorious heat.

"Good g-girl, takin' it all for m' like a champ."

➤ RYOMEN SUKUNA

"What the fuck has gotten into you? Been in the cellars again, have we? Now, what did I say about that, eh?"

It's rare to hear Sukuna so bewildered, but the fact that the King of Curses is allowing you to manhandle him, to push his beefy, four-arm form into your private chambers is sign enough that he's indulging you.

"Wanna' kiss you, 'Kuna." You murmur, catching your husband's faint look of surprise, russet eyes widening as you yank his shoulders down. Planting your lips to his, muffling whatever snarky comment was sure to leave his fanged mouth, "Didn't like how she was looking at you."

Sukuna pulls back, if only to briefly trace his tongue along the side of your neck, down those fine crimson robes he so loved to see you in, "Who?"

"That courtesan." You shudder as gleaming fangs nip at your soft skin, shoving Sukuna closer towards the plush, vast expanse of your shared bed, "She was all over you, 'Kuna."

"Ah, that's what this is. My lil' Queen is jealous," Sukuna's back hitting the mattress, looking far too priggish and self-satisfied with your envy, "They're courtesans, brat. They pour our wine, flitter around like gnats, it's all a part o' the job description."

And because Sukuna truly can't resist himself, riling you up even further, "Besides, are you really surprised they're makin' stupid eyes at me, heh? I mean, look at me, I'm allll muscle and – mmph!"

In the short time that Sukuna took to gas himself up and rile up his pretty wife, you had already managed to snake your hands into the loose waistband of his wide pants. Clawing the fabric down absurdly broad, muscled thighs and undoing the thick, black knot holding his garments together.

A gentle peck on the upper-stacked of his two sculpted cocks has Sukuna suddenly glaring right down at you. All four eyes suddenly glazing over, "This is the game you wanna' play, brat? Really? 'Cause I can – fuck!"

You're pressing the flat of your tongue, the textured muscle right against the thick vein that runs along the underside of his absurdly long, girthy shaft. Ensuring that the second of his cocks doesn't feel left out, beginning to pump it slowly in the other hand.

"S-shut up, and let me do this." You're muffling around the smooth, taut skin at the very tip, beaming red and weeping the more you lave at it, "Wanna' taste you, 'Kuna."

"Heh, if I ever say no to that . . there's a knife in that wooden chest over there. I'd want you to use that on me, 'cause I'd hafta' be out of my damned mind to —"

There's a faint frazzled jump, a whine, colouring Sukuna's tone and you can tell that he's doing his best to muffle the sound. Determined to keep at least some dignity for himself, dark claws come to settle in your hair. Keeping that same steady pace to bob your pre-stained mouth up and down on the upper of the two shafts.

"Ouh, I was gonna' send those courtesans away, you k-know, if they were makin' my wife upset," Sukuna snickers, both cocks engorged enough that you really have to put in an effort to stretch both your hand and your mouth over them, "But if t-this is what I get outta' it, then they might jus' stay."

You glide your mouth away from Sukuna's cock with a loud pop! Giving your husband an unimpressed stare as he flounders, scowling, "Okay, m' sending them away. Was o-only a joke."

You can taste salty beads sinking into your tongue, and if you angle your head just right, you can press your head down enough for blush-pink hairs to tickle at your nose. The scent of him, the taste, the feeling of his hot n' heavy inches weighing on your tongue — you can feel a hot pulse beginning to jump up between your legs.

When it rains, it pours. When Sukuna climaxes, it. . also pours.

You know that there is no way you could possible envelop that much of his seed, but you lick gently at the spurting ropes of white, thick and opaque release. Feeling splatters paint all over your chin, your chest and the edges of those gorgeous robes Sukuna gifted you for your name-day.

"Wanna' climb on, brat?" Sukuna's peering down at you, and you can take some satisfaction in the flustered blush that he is furiously trying to hide, lolling his head away from your line of sight to little avail, "Still got another cock if ya' wanna ride. Gotta' fill ya' up so the whole estate can know that what my wife wants, she gets."

➤ CHOSO KAMO

Yeah, so introducing Choso to the idea of Friday night drinking? Probably not your most. . strategic decision. But after a gruelling day of training, and an even more excruciating day of self-restraint and not throwing yourself immediately at your boyfriend, you figured a good bottle of red, two glasses and a quiet evening on the wooden deck were well-earned.

So, now, here you are, perched in his lap, watching that wine-kissed flush bloom across his pale, clammy cheeks. His hazel eyes roam over you, shy, as berry-red stains his lips, and you lean in to sip the taste right from your favourite source.

Oh, and you're both utterly naked, training robes discarded in crumpled piles on the outdoor deck. Normally, you'd be a bit concerned that someone could turn the corner and find you perched over Choso's bare thighs, but the hour has grown late and you're on the far end of campus.

Thus, there's only one other massive factor to really consider here. And massive, well, that's an understatement of the century.

Choso's surprisingly relaxed like this, milky thighs flexing as he props you up, pulling you closer to him, but what really grabs your attention is the gleaming, red shaft that must be agonising by now, prodding right at your core. Right where you're balanced over the fat tip.

"No-one is gonna' walk past right?" Choso's blinking, dark lashes so long that they almost brush his lower brow as he flutters his eyes up.

You giggle, tilting the wine glass in your hand so more wine spills over the rim, dribbling down your bare form. And Choso, ever the greedy one, follows the slow trickle, laving his searing lips over your skin, right down your collarbone and over your breasts to lick up every last drop.

"Nah, and if there is gonna' be anyone, it'd be like. . a curse that got past the curtain." You're hiccuping, tracing faint lines over the edge of Choso's jaw, "And we'd have bigger problems anyway."

Your eyes are trailing downwards, to the curl of dampened, dark hair right over the base of his thick cock, and Choso scoffs, "You're about to say something lecherous, aren't you?"

"Wanna' give me a bigger problem, then, Cho' ?" Batting your lashes ridiculously at him, but even the half-curse can't resist how his heart is pounding, leaning in to plant a sweet curse on your lips.

"Are you sure?" Choso's gentle hands rolling over your spine, softly ghosting over your bare back that pebbles in the cool night air. Mahogany air tickling at your cheek as he situates large, soft palms over your waist. Swivelling you around so his impressively carved line of abdominal muscles are pressed against your back, and his breath ghosts are your ear.

"Gonna' be a biiiig stretch, sweet thing." Choso murmurs, planting a tender kiss at the nape of your neck, and god, he was not joking for the sheer girth often manages to catch you unaware each time.

But he's eager to help out, thick fingertips trailing over you to paw at your slick folds, spreading them apart even wider. He's murmuring something and you strain to here it, but you think that he's gasping, "I think I'm gonna' cum. Early, again."

You giggle, knowing that he flushes a vibrant shade of strawberry-red each time that he busts his load in you this early. For that faint, mere kiss of your arousal and your cunt's pretty walls against his cock is enough to make the half-curse shudder and swear as he spills glossy fillings right up in you.

"It's okay, Cho', you can – inside, you know."

"R-really, lovely? Inside, yeah?" Choso doesn't need further encouragement because he's already groaning, and you're already feeling wads of buttery cum drip down your thighs, feeling your hips twitch and shudder as the half-curse is determined to make up for this. Running his fingers along the side of your clit in a determined V-line, flicking gently over the swollen nub.

You're dazed, feeling the sudden build-up from your own orgasm creep up over you. The wine going straight to your head and making every cell in your body so tingly, and sensitive.

Watching with faint fascination at how fucking filthy this all is, the sopping leak of Choso's creamy cum dribbling out from under you, mingling with the blood-red drizzle of the wine still plastered to your thigh. A faint, pale shade of pink that has you aching to swipe your fingers through it, bringing it to your lips. And it has Choso groaning, cock hardening alll over again in you.

"You're going to be the death of me, sweet thing."

➤ TOJI FUSHIGURO

"Yeahh, arch ya' back for me like that, beautiful."

And fuck, Toji swears that if he had not been ass-naked, and there had been a ring in his back pocket right now, he would have whipped it out to propose to you, right then and there. Because, god, he's so truly in love with you, and the way that your pussy is a killer.

Capable of rendering an assassin dumbstruck, slack-jawed as he does his best to attach himself to reality once more. But all he can feel is the tight slick of your cunt clenching once more around him, the plush of your ass bouncing back to meet the base of his wide cock. Skin slapping so filthy and sticky against the trail of dark hair pattering down his abdomen.

Two wide palms searing into your skin, scooping him right up so his deliciously long cock can curve and glide right through your pussy. Bullseye! Right onto that sweet spot that makes you keen, and claw and whine, "Toji – right there, fillin' me up so good."

And you always know the right things to say because that rough, lil' scar on the upper corner of Toji's mouth is twitching, fighting off the dopey, love-struck grin that plasters itself on his face. Fighting the rising blush that threatens to make itself visible on his back, neck and ears.

He's a grown man, for fuck's sake! But never has he ever felt something so disarmingly charming and incredible as this, caging you in his arms as he pounds his hips into you, slap! slap! slap!

"We should get m-married, right? Right, doll?"

Toji doesn't even realise what he's babbling, too intent on feeling every inch of your walls, every sticky divot that he can press his inches into but god, he means every word that's falling from his slack lips, "M-marry me, doll. Gon' get ya' a diamond ring, anything ya' ask for, just say the word to ol' Toji here."

At first, the buzzing in his ears is so loud, so goddamn obnoxious that he cannot make out what droopy, muffled words are falling from your glossy, beautiful lips. But he strains his ears to catch them over the sound of his hips pistoning themselves against your skin, strands of translucent gloss stringing and snapping.

"W-wanna marry you too, Toji!"

For all of Toji's hard work in the sweltering gyms in the shitty basement of his apartment complex, his vast, muscular arms suddenly lose their strength. Everything in his broad, heavenly carved body turning into jitters, heart dangerously leaping up into his throat at just how much he loves you.

There, he said it. And now, he thinks he'll never be able to stop.

Emerald eyes not even sure where to focus on, the bounce of your tits that he can spy from underneath your glorious arch, the soft bounce of your ass against him, or the beautiful curve of your spine, "Loveee ya' doll, gonna' give you the whole package, I swear."

Each phrase puncuated by the heavy thwack! of his weeping tip against your cervix, pressing right up against where he's hoping his seed will take, "Gonna' make ya' my wife, my gorgeous wife." Sweeping a muscled arm beneath you to find your sensitive clit, pressing right at the sensitive bud, "Gonna' fill this pretty pussy up so good, wanna' see you allll round and g-glowing for me."

"Fuck, I'll even pay that s-shitty clan a visit, eh? Make 'em hand over the family ring, just so I can see it on ya' finger." God knows that those little shits don't need it, that pretty band of emerald that Toji can already see in his mind's eye, gleaming on your ring finger as he presses gentle kisses to your hand.

The very vision of you with your belly round, gleaming like the fuckin' sun itself, has Toji shuddering, planting his knees further into the mattress so he can jostle you even closer for a good fill. His wife, yeah, she'll get only the best.

Groaning as he feels wrinkled skin tighten, before thick ropes of sloppy, pearly cum shoot out from his angry tip. Overflowing in droves as he continues to buck his hips against yours, watching as your squelchy, puffy folds take up every single drop.

"I'm all yours, doll. I mean it."

➤ HIROMI HIGURUMA

"This was what you wanted . . angel?" Your husband coos, spreading his thick thighs (deliciously dusted with fine, dark hair) further apart, so you can slot comfortably in-between. So you can press your naked back to his bare chest, letting the warm water of the tub gently soothe that miserable ache in your bones.

"Mhm." You sigh, letting your head rest back against glistening, creamy skin, "Been so long, 'Romi. You're always soo busy with work, baby."

The man behind you sighs, rubbing gentle hands down your pebbled arms, pressing soft and loving kisses to your neck, "I know, and m' sorry. Wish we could find more time like this, my love."

You can hear the apologetic tone in his voice, frowning at the idea that he must believe that you're truly upset with him, your beautiful and wide-eyed husband, "I'm jus' glad you're now, and. . .uh." You shift back slightly, hoping that he gets the hint from where you're pressing up against him.

"Aw, angel's all needy now?" Hiromi laughs against the shell of your ear, "Ah, I shoulda' known you were gonna' start squirming like this. Gorgeous lil' thing."

You feel his large hands wrap around you, exploring and wandering your chest. Pinching, flicking and softly caressing the sensitive skin, his large nose brushing against your neck, "Bet you want me to go even lower, am I right?"

"Please."

Your husband never lets you down, never leaves you dissatisfied, for his quick fingers are already dancing over your abdomen before dipping in between your legs. You squeal at the sudden contact, the damp pads of his thick fingers brushing against your folds, and the water lurches in the wide tub.

"Careful, now. Otherwise, we're gonna' have to clean up the mess after," Hiromi chuckles, but he seems just as eager to let his fingers explore you. To play you masterfully, nipping at every nook and cranny of where you're most sensitive.

He's even gasping in faux-surprise, baritone chuckle giving way to a marvelled rasp, "And so wet already? Barely even touched ya', and your pretty cunt's all slippery for me."

"What can I say?" You slick back a little against his chest, head falling lower as you squirm to help him find the right angle, "It's never as good when I do it with m-myself."

Hiromi's sudden grunt amuses you, your stoic and clever lover suddenly envious from the mere mention of him missing the sight of you pleasuring yourself, "Always gotta' play some games, don't you, angel?"

He doesn't wait for your stuttering response, a wide finger already breaching past your glossy entrance, brushing against your inner walls as heat licks greedily at your groin, "S-soo good already, baby."

"Jus' be patient, and let me do more," Hiromi mutters, his lips pressing to the juncture of your neck. Another finger joining the first, your walls clenching down on the welcome intrusion. He begins to set a steady pace, pistoning the digits in and out, and again, in and out of your pussy in a way that makes breathy whines fall from your open lips.

"Gorgeous." And it's his honest, love-struck praise that makes you flush, a rough thumb brushing over your needy clit, gentle swipe proving that sometimes less is more, "Spread 'em a bit wider for me, love."

And you comply, thighs shifting wider, muscles trembling with the bulk of Hiromi's fingers smearing your slick arousal back and forth over your folds. A soft and breathless whimper escaping as the pleasurable ache deepens, "Wha –"

The trembling, excited question beginning to fall from your lips, just as Hiromi slips his fingers out of you, prompting a whine that's quickly silenced by him pressing the sweetened digits past your lips, "Had to stretch m' wife out there, now taste."

You gasp around his fingers, feeling something far heavier, and wider prod at your entrance from behind, keening as Hiromi lifts you ever so slightly higher so the flushed mushroom-tip of his cock can easily slip into your cunt, curving deliciously up into your pussy.

So perfectly snug as your husband stifles a loud moan, bucking his hips up, water pooling over the edges of the bathtub, "We're gonna' be making that m-mess, angel, so hold on."

➤ NAOYA ZEN'IN

Oh, you are so in for it now. For you've never seen your petulant husband like this, never this riled up, not with such a wild and burning edge. The short walk from the feast hall to your private chambers felt like a blur as he hadn't even spared a second glance back, dragging you from your seat on the finely-woven tatami mats.

"Tch', keep up," Naoya's snapping, golden eyes darkened with a heavy haze that you suspect the sake may have played a role in. His long, dark lashes flicker against flushed, peachy cheeks as Naoya grips your wrist with a hand that's searingly warm.

He doesn't even glance back to see if anyone still lingers in the dim hallways, no, he does not even care. And Naoya's not quite sure why you suddenly do, "Oh, so now you wanna' see if someone's around? Didn't care sooo much when you were practically draped over that man's lap like a slut, right?"

One hand roughly swinging the screen door open, and another stroking over your pulse, pushing you in. And well. . you would be lying if you said that this didn't fill you with some form of glee. That this hadn't all been a part of your plan for the evening to provoke the Zen'in heir, to get some reaction from your husband,

But god, you certainly had not expected this. Hadn't expected Naoya to press the full weight of his toned form against yours, to have you right up there against the wall with no shame. His clever hands are skimming under your verdant robes to scoop strands of slick, heavy arousal between thin fingers, all while sharp fangs nip at the shell of your ear.

"So, my wife was just that desperate for attention. . wasn't she?" Naoya's scoffing, batting amber eyes at you as his tone takes on a bratty, raspy pitch, he sounds ruined. "Were ya' just really so needy t be fucked, like this? Couldn't even wait 'till the feast was over, and now m' gonna' have to explain this to everyone, yeah?"

Naoya's always oddly chatty when he's running his hands over you, mouth running wild and desperate. His fingers have torn away beautiful, new emerald-green silk robes, pinching and tweaking your swollen clit between clipped nails. Scoffing and snickering when you buck your hips into him, whining his name.

"Ha! As if m' gonna' let you have this easy, you think I'm just gonna' give you my cock now, like you weren't just whorin' yourself allll over that sorcerer's lap – heh, he must've been thinking it was all the wine." Naoya snarls, already tugging at his own dark haori, and the thin waistband of his pants, "He should have asked me then, I coulda' told him just how cock-drunk my wife gets when she's lookin' for my attention."

What your husband has lacked for in wide girth, he makes up for in length, and he takes some (really fucking annoying) egotistical pride in knowing how to wield those inches. He's using his warm hands to hold your thigh up — to run the angry, pink tip down your dewy cunt. Hissing when the tip snaps on your weeping entrance.

The first few inches has you keening into him, not caring about how this is the man that you profess to love on some days, and vow to poison with arsenic on others.

Naoya's patting your cheek with short taps of his manicured hands, bullying his cock further into you, "Hey, wifey. Pay attention now, look d-down. This is what ya' wanted, right?"

And you do look down, gulping at the sight. His veined cock being enveloped by your swollen, puffy folds. And each time that your husband teases and draws his cock out in heavy strokes, well, it comes out glistening and creamy. And it's clear that Naoya is amused by your dazed giggles and sighs, but even he isn't above the sheer pleasure that your pussy gives him, shaking his head of sandy, soft hair.

"Ouh, take a look at that, she's l-loud tonight, isn't she?"

And you profusely flush, hearing the pap! pap! pap! echo through your quarters, the slick thwacks! of his cock sliding in and out of your heat as you mewl. And Naoya almost, just almost, looks fond of you, his wife, pressing a shaking thumb to the pad of your lower lip, pressing down as you nip sharp teeth around flesh.

"Pretty, p-pretty lady," Naoya babbles out, probably without even realises that he's paid you an accidental compliment, loose strands of flaxen hair brushing against his forehead as he leans in to press a filthy kiss to your lips, "Wanna' go one more time on the bed? O-or how 'bout the hallway? Everyone can hear how I make ya' scream."

➤ GOJO SATORU

"Oouh, you just make everything so much better for me, baby." Gojo's laugh rumbles from his bare chest, snowy lashes fluttering over creamy, flushed skin as he presses his back further into the plus mattress.

You sigh, and it's a happy, content sound that makes something awfully soft settle in Gojo's chest. You're pressing soft kisses to his reddened, twitching mouth, melding yourself to his lips.

"Now, c'mon, off!" You tug at the black silk wrapped around his eyes, curling your fingers into the smooth fabric to just yank it down. Your eyes meeting Gojo's lazy, pleased gaze as you do. He's just so smug like this, knowing that he's got you naked in his arms. You can see his jewel-blue stare appreciatively run over your bare form, his favourite sight in the entire world. A veiny hand pulling at the curve of your ass, pushing you further on top of your fiancé.

"And to think I was in such a bad mood earlier, baby," Gojo murmurs, tapping his muscular thighs. A silent indication for you to hop right on, hovering your dripping core right over his angry, weeping tip. "Thought I was gonna' have the worst day ever, the higher-ups fuckin' with me and all. But how could I ever forget m' pretty baby waiting at home?" Each sentence delivered with a soppy, sweet kiss to your smiling lips.

"Thaaaaat's it, there we go," Gojo snicker as you slowly lower yourself over his considerable, fat inches. And the strongest is just so amused, watching you bite your kiss-stung lips, struggling to keep the wanton moans in, but you're not letting him off that easy. For the second, the very second that your hips meet the base of his groin, slick seeping into that thatch of white curls, you're giving him a thick squeeze.

"F-fuck!" Gojo wheezes, white strands of hair falling back against the pillow as he does his absolute best to not lose the last semblance of iron composure. But the way your gorgeous, tight cunt is wrapping him good, he fears the game is long over before it even began.

Yeah, he considers himself a pretty lucky man.

"Ya' good, 'Toru?" You giggle, threading your fingers through tousled, frosty strands, feeling Gojo practically purr from underneath you. He's cracking a stormy eye open, pressing his mouth into a thin line, "Yeah, girl. Never been b-better."

See, Gojo Satoru was a. . .practical man. Well, no, scratch that. He was the strongest, but when faced with your dizzying, maddening grip — he feared that there was no power or technique on this planet that would be able to help him.

"Have you gotten bigger, 'Toru?" You plant your shaking hands on his broad chest, nose scrunching as you stifled a weak sniffle at the sheer magnitude of the delicious stretch. Trying to keep your head smart on your shoulders, but god, it's just soo difficult when you can feel every veined-inch throb and pulsate in the gummy walls of your pussy, his second-favourite girl.

Gojo just squeezes his eyes shut, knowing that if he were to crack cerulean eyes wide open, the sorcerer would immediately bust a fat load at the sight of his wife's naked form, and that's not to mention the magnetic pull of his gaze to your chest. He's gasping as you begin rocking forward, setting your own comfortable pace that already has him seeing stars, "Wha', bigger?"

"Yeah, s-so much bigger, each time – each time, I swear." You're mewling, words tumbling right into each other. And that, that mere sight of you struggling to accomodate to wide girth of him. . .well, that is almost enough to have Gojo busting a thick wad of seed into you.

Shaking fingers come to pinch at the fat of your ass, gently tapping it for good measure, "Don't say stuff like that, wifey. M' already s-sensitive." Gojo's huffing, admiring the way that you roll those killer hips faster now, gliding around his thick cock in gooey, filthy circles, and taking every inch of him so well.

You laugh in uneven, frayed bursts — trailing a single finger down the handsome line of his jaw, feeling his pulse jump underneath for he's so in love. "So much better than that stupid m-meeting, right?" Arching your back just a little more on top fo him, so the probing curve of his cock is brushing gentle kisses on your insides, swabbing over that rough patch of nerves that has you suddenly gasping and keening.

Gojo threads a quivering hand at the nape of your neck, so you can feel the cool band of his wedding ring brush at your skin. Bringing you down for a messy kiss, all so sloppy and desperate, "Y-yeah, so glad I left early, heh. Just knew I was needed here, c'mon, baby. Arch for me a b-bit more."

He feels dizzy, lightheaded and he know he must look a whorish mess. His staff uniform already scattered somewhere on the floor, having been discarded in a desperate trail on your way to bed. Dark blindfold having slipped under his face, and ice-white hair dishevelled in raked tendrils. Sticky strands of his pre-cum and your glossy arousal pulling away with each slap! slap! slap! of your pelvis against your hips.

"Think ya' can go a bit f-faster, baby?" Gojo runs his large, warm hands over your chest. Cupping your tits with calloused palms, and pinching them in a way that makes you squeal, "Or how 'bout this? Just move back a lil', yeah, up. So I can feel you here."

Here being in-between your thighs slapping against his, your swollen clit absolutely aching for his attention. And Gojo, duly, delivers. Rubbing furious, tight circles over where you needed the most, sending you hurtling head first into a dazzling orgasm that has you shaking in his beefy, muscled arms.

The rapid, pulsing clenches of your pussy have Gojo seeing visions of wedding vows and golden rings, amplified only by how his own ground-shaking orgasm washes over him and runs him senseless, your tight walls milking him dry for all he's worth.

Thick, glossy ropes of white seed shooting out of his tip, steaming and searing as they fill you right up, pressed right up against your cervix. And in such greedy volumes too, for you're leaking sticky cream all over your aching, shaking thighs.

"You should keep going, sweets, ride m-me as much as ya' can," Gojo gasps out, feeling the overstimulated sensation of your cunt clenching as you writhe on top of him, "If you can make me cry, m' gonna' marry you tomorrow."

➤ HAJIME KASHIMO

". . .What did you just say?" You gape at the teal-haired sorcerer, eyes wide as Kashimo suddenly seems to find the floor far more interesting than you. His heel dragging against the ground, scuffing the pristine white of his boot.

Kashimo just clears his throat — once, twice, then pointedly looks anywhere but you. How adorable, you think, watching as he turns away from you, tugging his cream martial robes apart. "Do not make me say it again, dove."

"Baby, if I didn't hear you right the first time, then. . ."

"Just sit on my face, please."

You're grinning, far too sweetly for the medieval sorcerer to keep his cool, "Say less, 'Jime." Almost cooing at the vibrant red flush climbing up Kashimo's back.

It's a once-in-a-blue moon spectacle, the bratty warrior genuinely conceding defeat for his wants. No smug, fanged grin nor insufferable gloating. So, as you watch him practically collapse onto your bed, limbs sprawled and cyan hair pooling around his head in a tangled mess, you clench your thighs subconsciously, already feeling a bit light-headed.

There's a gangly lurch in your steps, a sway to your balance as you're peeling your panties away from damp thighs. Stepping out of your underwear so you can inch just a bit closer, watching as Kashimo's eyes widen. Turquoise eyes, the same disconcerting shade as his glossy hair, widen — glazing over with something far more familiar to you. The same look in Kashimo's eyes when there's a battle that he has to win, and this endeavour warrants no less ambition in him.

"Come here, girl, let me – ouh," Kashimo's voice has hardened into a needy rasp, his eyes not leaving your mound even once, pupils trailing after a single droplet of slick tearing down your thigh. He's hastily slamming his arms forward, wrapping your thighs up in his tight hold.

Laving his sharp, pink tongue over that droplet and groaning, eyes fluttering shut for a split second before he's mouthing soft kisses over the gentle, plush flesh. Catching any more stray strands of slick before the main meal.

But there's a very slight hesitation in your movements, the faintest uncertainty as you hover with aching muscles over Kashimo's torso. Gnawing on your lower lip, contemplating whether you should actually —

"What's wrong, little dove?" Kashimo frowns, scarred hands reaching out to hungrily envelop your thighs, dragging your sopping cunt closer to his chin.

"Are you sure you want me to, uh, –" You're gesturing to his face, trying to convey that you're suddenly having second thoughts about suffocating the sorcerer with thighs around his head, and Kashimo seems to glean your thoughts, clicking his tongue, "Silly, aren't you? Jus' sit, I have you."

"What if you don't want to – . ."

It is a rare thing to see Kashimo smile, a genuine grin without the promise of bloodshed or storms afterwards, but he's snickering now, eyes hazed over with an even rarer fondness. Sharp, toothy fangs peaking out from underneath cherry-lips, "I cannot even tell you how much I want you to just let me have a taste, right now."

And god, he certainly was not exaggerating for the very minute your aching cunt met his lips, Kashimo was drinking you in like a man starved. Teal lashes fluttering closed over his blissful expression, those magenta-lightning marks at the corners of his eyes crinkling as he stifles back a heady moan, "Mmph. . holding out on me with this. How did I go s-so long without – "

You don't even hear the rest of his desperate, pussydrunk words. World already turning into a bright mush of vibrant colours and sounds around you, streaks of blue and lightning-hot white across your eyes. The slick, filthy sounds of your sopping heat dripping over Kashimo's chin, dribbling down onto his neck.

The very tip of his long tongue prodding at your entrance, already slipping past your pussy's ring of muscle, "Fuuuck, 'Jime, feels so, soo good." Unsure on where to even place your jittering hands, settling to run them past the hem of your top. Slipping the fabric off and away, so you can cup your tits, and grip the sensitive flesh.

You see Kashimo's eyes crack open, and a faintly muffled whine reaches your ears, murmured encouragement of just how much he's enjoying the sight being groaned into your wet, glistening pussy, "Soakin' allll over me, little dove. Heh, tryna' drown me?"

You buck your hips over his face with greater force, feeling the bridge of his sharp, handsome nose brush against your clit as you squeal, "Shh, shh, m' already c-close."

"Already?" Kashimo's tastebuds determined to soak every drop of you in, as though you were the sole thing in this world quenching his thirst, "Always t-take suchh good care of you, right? You gotta' s-say that I do – that it's m-me making ya' feel like this."

"You, y-you, 'Jime, only you." You whine, knowing exactly what Kashimo wants to hear, what you truly believe, how he's the only being able to coax such mind blowing pleasure from you. The only one to have you perched over his mouth, gliding yourself back and forth over his glossy, swollen tongue.

"Good, heh." And you suddenly fear that you had grown too complacent, to willing to believe that this would not be another one of Kashimo's battles.

Because the sorcerer's gaze is suddenly all the more focused, laser-sharp with his eyes on the prize, your tacked clit throbbing for attention from his lips. That look when he's capable of going multiple rounds to prove that he can win, and will win. You briefly wonder if there will be any sensation left in your twitching legs by the time Kashimo is done.

"We can do this all n-night, little dove."

[madwomansapologist]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ༘⋆ rizz? oh, you mean my autism?

★彡 synopsis: jjk boyfriends' ways of loving an autistic reader.

characters: satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, choso kamo, toji fushiguro, hajime kashimo.

bella's note: my new year's resolution? to be way more self-indulgent!

.ᐟ.ᐟ KENTO 'QUIZ TIME' NANAMI

The first time it happened, Kento assumed you were way too focused on work to cook something before you were about to faint. The second time, maybe you were distracted. From then on, it was a pattern Kento couldn’t unsee.

Arms shaking as you cook. Changing the shower temperature when your skin is burning hot. Only washing your glasses when they are so dusty he could draw on them. Waking up on the middle of the night to use the bathroom.

You only listen to your needs when your body screams.

THIS PACKAGE INCLUDES: “Do you need a drink?” — “Have you eaten anything? That doesn’t count.” — “Want me to close the curtains?” — “Come clean your glasses with me. I could clean yours, but you would need to clean mine. That’s what I thought.” — “Did you pay your bills this month?” — “Have you watched that movie you told me about?” — “Are you going to bed or I’ll have to start undressing? Oh, so now you hear me?”

.ᐟ.ᐟ CHOSO 'ACCIDENTAL MIME' KAMO

Choso would’ve never noticed if you hadn’t got mad at him. Mocking you? of course he was not! That’s so mean, Choso would never do that to someone he loves.

You have this habit. Of repeating words or phrases others use. Choso thought it was sweet. It showed that you were paying attention to every conversation. He started doing the same for you to know that he was listening, too.

Choso would’ve never understood if it wasn’t for Yuji. Echolalia. You weren’t doing it on purpose. It was automatic. What he saw as a habit was something you have no control over. When Choso started doing the same, you thought it was his way of saying “stop that, you’re bothering me.”

Once Choso explained himself, it was your turn to think it was a sweet habit.

THIS PACKAGE INCLUDES: “Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to.” — “Choso, you’re very beautiful. Wait.” — “Can you shut up? Sorry.” — “Do you want to go out? I would love to.” — “Fuck that. Hey, Yuji, don’t use those words.” — “Babe? Yes?”

.ᐟ.ᐟ SUGURO 'SOCIAL CLUES TRANSLATOR' GETO

People, most often than not, will say things without actually saying them. The first time the meaning behind someone’s word were completely lost once they reached your ears, Suguru thought it was amusing. But then he understood some think it’s only logical to blame you for not getting what they chose not to say.

Arguing with someone unwilling to change their ways is pointless. If they don’t want to communicate with others, so be it. Suguru would pity them for wasting their chance of knowing you, but he prefers when you spend your time with him.

In important events, Suguru will tell you what to expect. Out with friends, he may warn you about someone not being very happy. Oh, the countless times Suguru was the one to explain that “no, honey, they didn’t mean it literally.”

Suguru would rather not being called tutorial mascot by his partner, but if you’re happy… so be it.

THIS PACKAGE INCLUDES: “Hyperbole.” — “I think that was her polite way of spitting on his face. It gave me chills.” — “I also don’t know what he meant by that.” — “She’s definitely lying.” — “Not literally.” — “Shit. Satoru will ask me to give a speech. You will pretend to be sick? ... I love you.”

.ᐟ.ᐟ HAJIME 'TELL ME MORE' KASHIMO

Hajime WILL know about all your special interests. You have no say in this matter. He wants to know everything about you that there is to know. After all, what is love if not seeing the other and accepting them entirely?

He prefers to do it while he trains. Hajime will practice his techniques with your voice to sooth his muscles. Don’t matter what is on your mind, he wants to hear it all. A specific actress, some movie you saw, penguins? Lovely, keep going.

It's endearing the way you know so much about what you love. Makes Hajime want to ask you what you know about him. Just to check.

THIS PACKAGE INCLUDES: "No, no. Please, keep going." — "And that was created when?" — "Your voice is enchanting." — "How did you discovered that?" — "I think, when I was young, I read a book that mentioned this." — "Talk to me. I want to listen."

.ᐟ.ᐟ TOJI 'HUMAN FURNACE' FUSHIGURO

Toji knows how to read someone. It's useful. If he can understand their desires and fears, then he knows what to expect. When it comes to you, what surprises Toji is that he uses this skill to help instead of getting something for himself.

He learned to read you. To understand what your body tells without the need to hearing it from you. Toji understands when something makes you upset, mad, uncomfortable. Even when you're drowning on your emotions and nothing else makes sense: Toji knows you.

And what he learned is that, to silence your mind from all those confusing thoughts, something bigger against you can be distracting enough. To be more exact, to have Toji against you. On his lap, between his arms, beneath him on the couch.

THIS PACKAGE INCLUDES: "I'm warm? How sweet of you." — "Can you hear me now?" — "You feel like you can’t breath? I'll let you go when you get sure of that." — "How's your mind now? Too crowded?" — "Forget about them. Just look at me. That's right. It's you and me, nothing else matters."

.ᐟ.ᐟ SATORU 'DEFENSE ATTORNEY' GOJO

Has someone been harsh to you? A boss ignored your rights? A doctor diminished your requests and questions? You know who to call: Satoru Gojo, your beautiful, funny, interesting, inteligent, kind, considerate [50 adjectives later] boyfriend!

Satoru WILL fight anyone that tries to disrespect you. Don’t matter who, don’t matter why. He's ready to throw hands (or cursed energy, to specify). It can be your mom, he doesn’t care. No one messes with you.

But he also defends you in more pacific terms. He will give whole ass lessons to people that tried to argue with you. He will keep talking until they get it right. If someone tries to embarrass you, Satoru is embarrassing them. He doesn’t care about anyone. If they were able to make you uncomfortable, than they are able of dealing with some discomfort too.

THIS PACKAGE INCLUDES: "Well, actually..." — "I understand what you're saying. Completely. But you're wrong and I will tell why exactly why." — "Say that again." — "You must think you are so funny." — "You think so? Ok, sit down. I'll explain it all to you."

© all rights reserved to MADWOMANSAPOLOGIST

[eternal-evergreens]

may I request a yandere hajime kashimo x fem reader or yandere gato x fem reader if you haven't read the manga yet

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧ "Arc Flash" ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Post format: drabble

Paring: Yandere! Hajime Kashimo x Fem! Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: major injury, slight gore, period-typical misogyny (nothing from Hajime), cross-dressing, forced marriage

You were once one of the strongest sorcerers of your time, though your days of glory have long since passed you by.

You were twenty-five when you fought what you thought to be your last battle. Twenty-five when you sustained a life-altering injury. Twenty-five when you lost it all.

Hajime Kashimo. Your childhood friend turned sour. Endearing when you were children, his fixation on you began to verge on unnerving as you entered adolescence. By the time you had entered adulthood, it had bloomed into an obsession from which you could not escape.

“Let’s get married,” he told you on your eighteenth birthday. He wasn’t asking for your opinion. If you wanted to get out of this, you’d need a better excuse than ‘I don’t want to’.

“I can’t,” you said flatly, luggage in hand. You needed to get going before noon, and he was blocking your only exit. “It’s a tradition in my family for sorcerers to go on a pilgrimage of strength once they enter adulthood. You know this.” 

“I’m not like them,” you say. “I need to get stronger.”

“The girls usually choose to get married instead, though.”

“You don't even have a technique!” You pause. 

That's not quite true, though he has no way to know it. You never told him about it, after all.

“...Even more reason to get stronger.” 

You do have a technique, but you've only just recently discovered it. 

“You won’t need to get stronger once you’re under my protection.” 

Most sorcerers become aware of their technique around five or six…

“And what if someone attacks me while you’re away? I’m going. End of story.” 

…but it's a different story if their technique requires the use of a medium that is hard to come by.

“When you come back, then,” he says. You give a vague indication of agreement, and he lets you pass. 

Corpses aren't exactly common playthings for a child, after all.

Most pilgrimages of this type end after a maximum of three years. However, returning was never something you planned on doing. Your family scorned you for not being a meek and obedient daughter, and Hajime had chased off the only friends you had. There was nothing left for you back in the village. The pilgrimage was largely nothing more than an excuse for your escape. 

Of course, that doesn’t mean it was all for show. You were’nt lying when you said you wanted to get stronger, after all.

Within just a year of your departure, rumours of “The Masked Sorcerer” began to circulate around Japan. Despite the growing fame, you weren’t worried about being caught. After all, [First] [Last] was a female sorcerer of humble origins with no innate technique, completely different from the Masked Sorcerer, an anonymous male who possessed a mastery over corpse manipulation.

After seven years of independence, you thought you'd never see anyone from your past ever again. But perhaps the years of separation had worn on your memory; you seemed to have forgotten that Hajime was a junkie for battle.

It was a relatively simple attack from behind. So easy to dodge that you suspect it was meant more as a declaration than a genuine attempt on your life. You reach for your katana, prepared to take your assailant down in one blow, however, a familiar voice freezes you in place.

“You’re the masked sorcerer, right?” He asked. “I've been looking for you.” Hajime lunges for you, his cursed energy crackling around him. You jump to create distance, narrowly avoiding a collision. Snapping out of your momemtary stupor, this time you don’t hesitate to unsheathe your katana and swing it down in one fluid motion. At the same time, you summon a horde of skeletons to join you in battle. Skeletons don’t make for the strongest fighters, but bones are the most resistant to electric conduction. That makes them perfect for fighting against Hajime’s cursed energy. 

“So this is corpse manipulation!” Hajime exclaims, leaping out of your sword’s path. “I’ve never seen anything like it!” Your skeletons swarm him, each armed with weapons made of bone. Hajime releases a surge of electricity, but the skeletons hardly react. “Not bad.” He grins. “You even accounted for the special property of my cursed energy. However,” Hajime drops his staff and raises his arms to his chest, making a hand sign you recognise instantly. How could you forget? You were the first person he showed it off to. 

“Hey, look at this! I just learned how to make explosions!” Hajime, age twelve, told you, guiding you by the hand as he ran with you across an open field. “[First], [First], look!” 

“I’m looking, I’m looking,” you say. Hajime smiles, letting go of your hand to free up his own, he places his left palm over the back of his right hand, making a sign that resembles a butterfly’s wings. “How does it work?”

“So you take a bunch of electricity like this to create a sort of field, yeah? Then you pulse more electricity through that field, and then…” In a second, the tree standing to your left explodes as if struck by lightning, its stump catches on fire, and its branches fly out in all directions, many of them also on fire.

“Woah! That’s amazing, Hajime!” Hajime puffs out his chest with pride.

“I’ve even thought of a name for it!” He tells you. “I’m calling it—”

“Arc flash.” 

In no time at all, the force of the explosion rips your skeletons apart, leaving nothing left between you and him. You lunge forward, katana in hand. He readies his staff to block your attack, and the two of you exchange blows with lightning speed.

“What’s your name?” He asks. You don’t answer. Your voice would give you away. A current passes through your body, shocking the nerves. You lock up, and Hajime reaches to remove your mask. In a flash, you sever his arm. But the damage is done. In an effort to protect your identity, you gave it away instead.

It’s Hajime’s turn to be frozen now. He looks down at the stump of his arm as blood gushes from the cleany cut arteries, then he looks back to you. “That was…”

New Shadow Style: Simple Domain. 

By creating a small domain around your body, you’re able to automate your movements, attacking and reacting to attacks faster than you ever could on your own.

It’s not something you came up with, but, having no innate technique to rely on, it was basically your signature back home.

Shit. You messed up.

“Let’s change the rules,” he says, healing his injured hand and picking his staff back up. “If I win, you’ll promise to marry me, just like you did back then.” No point in hiding it now, you figure. You rip off your mask and throw it to the ground.

“And if I win, you’ll die where you stand.” 

“Deal.” The two of you launch towards each other in a blaze of fiery passion. You fight well, but it isn’t long before you burn through all of your skeleton reserves. Regular corpses, though stronger, are more suceptible to electric pulse, and don’t last much longer. With nothing but melee combat left at your disposal, it was only a matter of time before a well-placed electrical current sent you out of commission. 

That bastard. He targeted your spinal cord on purpose, didn’t he? 

“Partial paraplegia,” the doctor said. “It means that while you still retain some form of movement in your legs, it will be quite difficult for you to ever walk again. And even then, only for short distances.” 

You wanted to kill him. That good-for-nothing husband of yours was just about as bad as it can get. But a sorcerer’s word is their pride. So you agreed to go back to his residence as his newly disabled wife, though the humiliation and shame just might send you into an early grave.

“Well,” he says, grinning as he wheels you out of the office. “Guess you can’t run away anymore, huh?”

[selfishdoll]

need more gentle dom/sub kashimo soooo bad. it's so good either way

NOW PLAYING…. SHE LOVES ME

And I know that it turns her on, the way that I carry on

SOFT DOM! KASHIMO HAJIME.

cw: mature content & suggestive themes, mdni.

quick hcs of kashimo & him actually being soft with you in the bedroom (shocking, i know)

let’s be honest, hajime is rarely gentle or soft in the bedroom. it’s not always on purpose, the guy is big and heavy handed— every grab on your skin is sure to leave a mark. when he’s purposely being rough, it’s even worse.

however, on the rare occasions he is being soft with you (which are extremely rare), it’s like his personality does an entire 180.

he trades fast, harsh thrusts for sweet, languid ones; allowing you to feel each inch of his cock inside you. he’s kissing you, smoothing his hands across your skin and praising you so softly.

taking me so well, princess.. my pretty girl, just like that— let me take care of you.

trading his usual pet names of slut, and whore to sweet girl, or princess.

kisses away tears that tread down your face from the pleasure, talks you through your orgasm. he’s so soft, it’s nearly frustrating because when he’s like this— he refuses to be rough with you. no matter how much you beg.

i’m not being rough with you, you’re wasting your breath, y/n.

the man will even, hold your hand. it’s funny seeing his large hand completely cover your own, but it’s a tender (and cheesy) moment you definitely cherish.

you also like feeling the way his hand clenches when he gets close and closer to his climax.

[sayakasnonsense]

“Love again, Fall again.”

Pairing: kashimo hajime x reader

Storyline: kashimo hajime reminisces about his past love, not knowing she was reincarnated and does the same. as they meet each other unknowingly and fall back in love, they deal with crippling guilt from their past lives

Note: no pun for today! this idea suddenly hit me while I was listening to Love Again by Ashwarya! Lovely song, go check it out!

xoxo, sayaka.sy

“thought that I would never feel it now.

the things that I had left behind somehow”

Kashimo Hajime is a lonely soul. A being that has endured far more loneliness and heartache than a human should. Somehow… his eyes soften when they lay eyes on you. A faint warm feeling stretches in his stomach, a smile creeping onto his face. His mind berates him for it: how dare he let his guard down for such foolish endeavours, after all… it only ends with tragedy. But… the butterflies don’t go away, in fact… they only worsen. It had been years… centuries even… since he’d felt this enamoured with someone. A strange, strange feeling, like memories he’d tried so hard to lock away, leave behind and abandon.

“so how do I see you now?

and why do I feel you now?”

You gaze into the ocean, your feet tickled by the soft waves lapping at your toes. A long, long time ago… you had been here with… with someone you considered your light, your other half, the Romeo to your Juliet. Your heart sinks… you shouldn’t be thinking about this. You had a new life now. A soft movement startles you out of your thoughts. Kashimo Hajime sits down next to you silently, eyes never meeting yours, but when they do… sparks fly, fireworks shoot through your heart. This… should be impossible, how, just how was this happening… your heart was locked away, an ancient object never to be tampered with. And why, just why did you like Kashimo Hajime so much? You two felt like you were magically connected by the red string of fate.

“i play a song it makes me start to think

that I’m ready to start reminiscing this”

Kashimo Hajime hates this. The nagging feeling of guilt and regret. He should have been there for her, he should have loved her harder, he should have told her how much he loved her. But all those were past tense now, this was the present. He couldn’t run away from his heartbreak forever. Stop being a coward, he tells himself, man up and face it, face Her.

“all the memories are failed attempts

to try and win each other’s hearts all over again.”

You steal a glance at Kashimo Hajime, ignoring the guilt in your heart as you take his hand, stepping out of the boat. The night sky is painted a beautiful blue, the moon shining in the distance. A pang of pain shoots through your heart as your skin touches. You sigh, stepping out yourself and smiling apologetically at him. All the attempts you two made at each other were foiled every single time, all because of you.

“i don’t want to run too fast and catch myself slipping, back into it

can’t be feeling charged again, but for my name, my heart, you’re taking on me”

But like Romeo and Juliet, not every love story ends well.

[kanyerealdaughter]

#ASS OR BOOBS PT |

characters | kinji hakari , hajime kashimo , suguru geto , takuma ino , toji fushiguro.

sexual context (fem,reader) - part two here.

—————————————————————————

KINJI HAKARI - he chuckled, an amused smile tugging at his lips. he ran a hand through his pinkish and purple tones barrel twist, a nonchalant gesture, before responding.

"can't a man prefer both?" he quipped, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

*its not confirmed that hakari had purple hair or barrel twist i just like to think of him that way but if you don't like it just ignored it.*

you automatically rolled your eyes you should've known he was going to say that.

" noo you gotta pick one kinji...!" you whine forcing him to pick one. hakari chuckled at your insistence but played along, clearly enjoying the little game.

" hmm... if i have to pick one,." he relented, pretending to weigh his answer.

"i'd say ass, definitely. the curve, the bounce... you get me?" a smirk played on his lips as he leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping lower.

—————————————————————————

HAJIME KASHIMO - " kashimo, are you a boobs guy or an ass guy..?"

" what's with the sudden weird question?" he looks at you with a frown and his arms are folded across his chest. he doesn't seem to be in a good mood, as usual, and it looks like he just returned home.

" just pick one." you huffed rolling your eyes.

" boobs, if i have to choose." he lets out a sigh before replying as he gets a headache from your weird question.

" and whyyy..?"

" because i like the way they look. why are you always asking such weird questions..." he gets annoyed by the constant questions and replies more bluntly with his normal grumpy tone.

*Imfaoo i do believe this man does have a short temper after a long day.*

—————————————————————————

SUGURU GETO - " hey suguru, are you an ass guy or a boobs guy.?"

he was clearly caught off guard by the question as he slightly paused. he didn't expect you to be this forward he then smiles and gives you one good look up-and look down before tilting his head.

" depends on the girl.."

" anddd...? what does that mean..?" you asked curiously.

" it means i like both." he takes a good look at you. he takes in the outfit you were wearing as his sharp purple eyes slowly scans over your figure before they slowly move up to meet your eyes. he lets out a low chuckle, his smirk growing wilder.

—————————————————————————

TAKUMA INO - " ino do you like boobs or ass better..?"

ino's face turned beat red from embarrassment and surprise from the sudden question

"w-what?! why are you asking me that all of a sudden??"

you laugh quietly from his reaction " ino.. chill it's just a question... just answer the question."

" b-boobs i guess..." ino's face was still blushed bright red, trying to come back from the sudden embarrassment.

—————————————————————————

TOJI FUSHIGURO - " toji are you a boob guy or an ass guy.?"

" that's a very random question..." he replies and looks at you up and down.

" so..? just pick one.."

" if you want an honest answer i prefer the ass." he just gives you a glance before looking away.

" really why.?"

" because there is so much you can do with it and it looks good i have to admit i look at yours almost every day because i like it that much." he puts an arm around your waist.

𖣂 KANYEREALDAUGHTER SPEAKS - *reposted* part two coming soon.!

words - 0.6k

», ᴀ ᴋᴀɴʏᴇʀᴇᴀʟᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

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[torutorubozu]

ohmygod sub kashimo truther..

i know damn well that man is the BIGGEST brat. he would swear at you and ask for more with a bored look.

well thats until you fuck his brains out until hes nothing but a babbling crying mess <3 i bet hed like it when you pull his hair as well..

[alsoalso! may i be 🦷 anon ?]

OHMYGOF MY FIRST FUCKING THIRST IS A KASHIMO ONE..??? YES PLZ. aaand yes u may be 🦷 nonnie :3

𝟐𝟓.𝟎𝟗.𝟐𝟑 — 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜

cw/tw :: mean reader, heavy (?) degradation, reader calls kashimo a slut a lot, hair pulling

“c’mon, you can do better than that.” he groaned, looking up at you with a bored look. “don’t have to be so gentle with me all the fuckin’ time.”

you’ve been fucking him in a slow pace for a good while—and he’s been awfully bored. you grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking it so he faced you, “you want more, hm?” he looked at you back, “yeah—” he huffed, “—give me more, i’m getting bored here.”

you didn’t hesitate at all, gripping kashimo by the waist and slamming into him. his back arched, head thrown back and letting go of the white sheets he was holding onto. it was sudden—maybe too sudden. did you care, though? no. not at all. he wanted this, didn’t he?

you kept going, still in that fast pace. it didn’t take that long for him to be a blabbering mess under you. “ngh—nnh.. slo-slow down…” he managed to mutter between his moans. you yanked him by the hair once more, “aww… didn’t you ask me to fuck you harder just now? you’re already telling me to stop?”

he whimpered, unable to say anything. all he was able to do was moan like a slut under you. “you look fucking pathetic right now, you know that right?” you mocked, grabbing him by the face, just to really see how fucked out he looked—teary eyes with his mouth hanging, god he looked so, so cute. “what a slut you are, kashimo.”

he sobbed, “no-nh… m’not a slut… i’m n—” he got cut off by a sudden thrust, hitting his prostate and making him let out a loud, high pitched moan. “you’re not a slut? really? then why’s your body reacting like this, huh?”

you were right, the way he moaned, the way his back arched, the way he threw his head back with his tongue lolled out—everything. it made him look like a common slut.

you continued on and on with that fast, animalistic pace of yours, hitting his prostate with each thrust. still slamming into him as he moaned until his throat went dry.

“i’m gonna—” he wasn’t even able to finish his sentence, he just threw his head back as he orgasmed. he came all over his stomach, making a complete mess. but he was way too fucked out to even comprehend what was even happening.

his messy cyan hair was all over his face, he couldn’t even think anymore. all he could do was moan out your name as you slammed into him over and over and over again.

you slowed down your pace, wiping his tears away, “such a pretty slut you are, kashimo. look at you.” he just nodded without a word, still letting out soft moans.

[remunemu]

Nobody likes kashimo why?

I need more content about him

[hinakazino]

Winning In Romance || Kashimo x Reader

Summary: Part 2 of Losing In Romance! You are attempting to distance yourself from Kashimo, but your parents aren't fond of this. A new potential suitor supposedly is here to swoon you, but Kashimo's never fought in love has he? Warnings: Kashimo is new to love, dumb kashimo, possessive kashimo, fluff, somewhat angst, angst but happy ending.

Kashimo had noticed your shift in demeanor right away. That night when he'd returned home, he'd felt the cold eerie darkness that presented itself as he had to turn on the lights throughout the house. He made sure to be as quiet as possible, making sure not to disturb you, but it seems you were far too busy crying. Kashimo frowned as he heard your sniffles and gulps from behind your bedroom door. You both shared separate bedrooms and for a moment he just stood outside your door. His knuckles brushing against the wood but retracting as he decided to go to bed not wanting to disturb you. That following morning he'd awoke to you already gone, apparently you'd went to visit a friend. Your presence still lingered with the soft warm breakfast you'd prepared for him, like everyday. Kashimo had ate it as usual, not wasting a drop. He always thought your food was delicious, enjoying watching you cook, however today it felt duller without you being there to enjoy it with him. He remembers how you jokingly interrogated him on whether it actually tasted good or not. The fun memory playing in his head as he sighs finishing the food, leaning back on the chair becoming lost in his thoughts on the current situation. It was not a particularly good feeling in the morning. You on the other hand, currently were sobbing into your friends arms from heartbreak. Kirara softly pat your head, their other hand comforting your back as you continued crying on their shoulder. "It's okay, you can let it all out," they whisper as you hiccup and struggle to breath.

After awhile, you end up calming down, deciding to finally eat the food you'd prepared and brought to Kirara's residence. You ate slowly as your eyes were puffy and sore from crying. Your clogged nose didn't make things better as you tried to take in the scent of your delicious creation. Kirara was a great friend of yours, you'd met them through Kashimo and your friendship bloomed. It made sense, the people you both cherished were great friends so it was only natural you'd both be too. A whine escaped your lips as you ate another spoonful of food in dismay.

Kirara had gotten up and came back with a cup of warm tea, your favorite flavor too. You couldn't help but smile, it's the little things friends do that are the best, you thought. Mouthing a thank you to Kirara who shushed you, "don't speak while eating, you'll choke!" They only made you scoff, seeing your lightened mood Kirara decided to address the problem at hand, "I understand why you feel this way y/n, and Kashimo, but he didn't have to be such an ass! That Hakari too- I'll make sure to beat some common sense into them," they stated fuming. Kirara disliked seeing you in such a state and although they could see the unfortunate circumstances you were in with Kashimo.

They truly felt that Kashimo had crossed a line with Hakari, "Kashimo should've- should've at least delivered it better!" Kirara huffed, her hands crossing in annoyance as she threw herself back on the couch next to you. You could only stare at her grimly, unsure of what to do. It wasn't like the confession was false but it just cut deeper hearing it yourself.

You decided to spend the whole day with Kirara, working together in emotional healing and preparation. Mainly because you would have to return to your shared residence since eventually yours and Kashimo's family would come knocking. They clearly could care less about how we're actually doing, you think.

You didn't want to drag Kirara into this but it seemed they were determined to do something. Mentioning how they'd "definitely have a talk," how "kashimo doesn't even realize what you've been through," and that "he is so stupid". You weren't particularly worried what Kirara would do, just making sure to reason with them to not make things worse.

Kirara of course promised to not do anything reckless, and afterwards it was just a huge emphasis on facing Kashimo back home. You ended up staying a week at Kirara's in no rush as you didn't want to reveal yourself in such a weak state, only returning home one afternoon.

You felt horrible for only arriving back to the residence now, however you didn't feel well enough to see him in the morning. It was a sickening feeling you didn't know how to describe. Small sweat began to form on your face, as your hands were shaking from attempting to turn your keys, and from holding your breath as you carefully slid open the door. Only to find that Kashimo had fallen asleep on the couch. You felt yourself breath again as you silently shut the door, but that didn't seem to hide anything because the next thing you knew Kashimo was sitting up wide awake. Staring at you, grounding you in place.

You didn't dare speak a word, you didn't even know what to say, you felt like a deer caught in the headlights. You could tell he wasn't happy though. His beautiful cyan hair was a mess, curls sticking out unnaturally, he had eye bags under his now dull golden eyes, and his body seemed to lean towards you in a daze. "You're back.." Kashimo states as he gets up and moves towards you. He reaches his hand out to cup your cheek and winces when you flinch at his touch. His hands were cold and unfamiliar, you normally wouldn't mind but it was extremely awkward considering the situation.

Finding your voice again you decided to move, "um- yeah sorry wasn't well, don't worry though everything's fine!" you hurriedly say, attempting to go pass him. The attempt fails as Kashimo uses his body to block you, his strong arms clasping your shoulders to hold you still.

Kashimo doesn't know what to say so he just blurts out, "I'm sorry! I didn't want to sound that way, I know it wasn't right of me to inform you that way! I- I um, you're wonderful and well- please forgive me! Oh or don't, that's okay, you can hit me if it feels better!" You're in a state of shock as Kashimo lets you go and proceeds to lower himself onto his knees. Glancing up at you with eyes now filled with determination as he goes below your height. You can't help but laugh at the sight, he is so cute dammit, you think to yourself, hands anxiously fiddling. As quickly as possible you push him back to stand, "I don't want to hit you, and don't worry, I'm hurt but it is what it is, we'll work through it," you say softly. You could tell his apology was genuine, with the way he was glancing at you now like a puppy. This was just how it was though, one sided love, you thought.

You wanted to make yourself clear however, "we can just have everything fall back into place, soon our families will step in, they're the ones who brought this whole mess after all," you state in a hopeful tone. In truth, you didn't want to remain distant with him, he was still a good man, but this was for the best. Kashimo stood up straight again, but his face was unreadable. It made you feel uncomfortable to not know, but the reality was actually because Kashimo didn't know how to feel. His lips were pulled tight together, as your words settled.

The thought of you and him separating didn't seem pleasing to him, it never really did but for him, he thinks it is due to him never having had an actual lover. Kashimo couldn't grasp the swirl of emotions inside him now, but he knows he dislikes what you're saying. It is a sudden strong dislike that has him slumping his shoulders further in guilt.

He felt like a real jerk, he knew he couldn't take his words back, what he did wasn't honorable in any way despite him being a warrior. Kashimo began to seriously question what you meant to him whilst you were gone, and it's just then he remembers an incident during your week away.

How after the 3rd day he'd grown anxious and decided to seek you out. Somehow wounding up at Hakari's house in a state of distress, frantically asking of your whereabouts. Instead of Hakari however, Kirara answered the door. It wasn't strange as they were over at Hakari's quite frequently but their demeanor wasn't friendly. Kirara had welcomed him into the living room where he could see Hakari on the couch in silence. It didn't take him long to realize that Hakari was just being scolded and now him. "I'll cut to the chase, KASHIMO YOU COULDN'T EVEN TELL HER NICELY????" Kirara shouts. Beads of sweat form for Hakari as his hands stay placed nervously on his lap. Kashimo is now seated next to him at a loss of words, he knows Kirara isn't wrong, allowing them to further scold him. "You really broke her ya know! Like she knows already you guys didn't have to rub it in... OH MY GOD-- you don't even know what she already goes through with her family pressuring her AND the bullying she receives from those other bitches!!" Kiara yells as Kashimo's head snaps up confused. "What?" he asks, stupidly so. "What do you mean what? You don't know?? Oh well you never really attended the majority of the parties, but basically you have fangirls that've been harassing y/n about how pathetic this is," Kiara says, hands gesturing at the whole situation as she slumps down on the couch across from the two. Catching her breath from ranting so much and sighing. Kashimo had questioned Kiara after on the severity of the bullying and the bullies themselves. He felt like hitting himself more and more hearing what you had to endure. Kashimo realized he was a true idiot, just because he didn't care about his family that doesn't mean it applies to you. Along with that he hadn't really cared much about reputation, and yours he clearly damaged.

All of these emotions he felt once again, standing before you now. The weight on his shoulders never seeming to budge, he could see the eye-bags under your eyes, you were exhausted and he was just happy to have you back in his vicinity. "I just want you to know I do not hate you, you're a wonderful and lovely person," he mentions softly. You feel your heart flutter at his words and tone, but the excitement quickly settles. "Thank you, I'll- um good night," you bid farewell to Kashimo deciding to just go rest for the night. Leaving him to his own thoughts as he questions his true feelings for you, mainly the amount of pain in your eyes.

It all goes back to normal the next day, there's an awkward tension hanging in the house. It is accompanied with a comforting blanket though, as you both settle into a friendly routine with each other. You notice that Kashimo is even more attentive than before, offering to help you with tasks like folding laundry (despite being bad at it). The next few days go by when suddenly an invitation for a party arrives. The Kamo clan is holding a ceremony to announce their next clan leader. You would've skipped it this time as after spending much time with Kirara, you were fed up with your families whole talk on "reputation". This invitation was different though, because your good childhood friend Choso Kamo would be attending. Maybe even as the next heir, surely I must make it for him, you think, smiling as at least your friend is okay. You were reading over the letter with Kashimo looking over your shoulder.

You expected him to decline as he doesn't enjoy parties and their over exaggerated formalities, normally leaving you to attend. "I'll come with you," he says instead, and you find yourself appreciating that he doesn't want to leave your side. You both settle the matter and continue on until the day of the party. When the day comes you arrive with Kashimo, hand-in-hand the two of you walk into the large beautiful building on the Kamo estate. The luxurious gardens along with statues and fountains welcome everyone into the main building. Where the party is already lively with music played by an orchestra.

You and Kashimo arrive just in time to greet the soon-to-be previous clan leader. Norotoshi Kamo who welcomes you both, mentioning how lovely it is to see you again, valiantly disregarding Kashimo, much to his annoyance.

It doesn't take long for the crowd to quiet down as Choso is indeed announced as the new clan head. Cheers erupt as everyone begins piling gifts to Choso and dining on the provided feast. You and Kashimo end up separated as you go speak with Choso yourself. "Choso! Over here!" you yell, navigating through a crowd of people who get up to dance. Choso is talking to some other higher ups but he dismisses himself to come speak to you. "Oh shoot- sorry if I interrupted," you say, worried you'll make a bad impression on your friend.

Choso chuckles, "no worries, they're quite boring anyway, how've you been?" he asks after reassuring you. You respond by informing him how things between you and Kashimo have gotten better, "though I have a feeling we may divorce soon" you add solemnly. Choso's eyes widen as he frowns, placing a hand on your shoulder for comfort, "you will find the one," he says, a bit too seriously as his eyes bore into yours. You find yourself giggling at his expression and tone, "goodness you sound like you're declaring war!" you say laughing. Choso looks away for a moment embarrassed, "ah you know I'm not good with words," he says, smiling down at you as he did somehow lift your spirits. You stare up at him in appreciation, "yeah but you're trying your best," you say before being interrupted.

A woman who looks about your age approaches with some other girls, you don't know her well but you recognize that she along with some others are part of the group who consistently mock you. It hasn't been a big issue, but got more intense as your marriage to Kashimo stayed somewhat stale.

"So desperate you're clinging to another man? Not a bad choice though~" she says, snickering at you. The other ladies throw rude glances, some glare directly at you, making you feel so small. You never really knew how to deal with people like them.

Often you opted to just ignore them, giving them the idea that you weren't listening to their nonsense. It didn't matter, as although you imagined yourself giving a clever retort, it just doesn't come out in the form of words. Your hands become sweaty as you feel like you're shrinking.

You don't even realize you're holding your breath until Choso's hand softly taps your waist. His smile comforting you before he turns and quickly reprimands the girls. "How bold you are insulting the wife of the Hajime clans future leader? Are you not aware of the consequences you face?" he questions.

Choso's gaze is nothing short of deadly as some of the ladies back away in fear. The main woman however isn't easily scared, she also held affections for Kashimo from what you remember. "Isn't the wife supposed to be with her husband? Hm? Pathetic how you are even married- Kashimo doesn't deserve this torture!" she yells, not even trying to hide the scene. You begin to panic as you see other people who are eating turn heads towards you. Choso decides to end the matter, walking up to the woman and harshly stating, "you dare place the blame on y/n! You're just jealous you can't even get married and now I see why. How shameful a woman you are, you wouldn't be this honest in front of that Hajime now would you?" he seethes.

This seems to snap the woman out of her confidence as she decides to turn around and leave. You relax as Choso turns towards you, you're just happy it's over. Only to tense up again as he greets your parents, who were approaching the scene from behind you.

Your mother worriedly comes to pull you into a hug, which you melt into. You hear her quietly whispering to you about how "it's okay now", "I'm sorry I couldn't do anything", and "damn your father" in sadness. You know your mom didn't want you to suffer, but father had other plans.

Your dad smiles a bit too lovingly at you and your mother before turning to Choso. "I congratulate you on becoming clan head, it feels like it was just yesterday when you and y/n were playing together, thank you for taking care of my daughter even now," your father says. It all seems rehearsed as your father takes a hold of Choso's hands in a forward gesture of appreciation. Choso is a bit taken aback but just nods in understanding.

Meanwhile from the other side of the room Kashimo watches. He'd tried to go and save you, anger rising up his throat when he witnessed what happened. But Choso had came to your rescue instead, leaving Kashimo dumbfounded.

Kashimo doesn't know how long he stood in the middle of the dance floor, but it was enough for Hakari to pull him out. He didn't like how you were laughing with Choso before, and he most certainly didn't miss the way Choso's hand had patted you.

Kashimo had never really felt this way, but he began to wonder whether this was what you were feeling. How it felt to be left out, and to not have someone you care about look at you happily. He felt his hand reach over his chest as he couldn't pinpoint this heartthrob feeling.

Hakari watched his friend in emotional turmoil, but before he could speak someone else had cut him off. Kashimo's eyes were fixated on the way Choso had fended off your bullies and who now was talking to your family, in such a familiar manner too. He couldn't help the thought that crossed his mind, how Choso looked like he fit in with your family, with you.

Instantly he was snapped out of his daze as his mother's words sliced through his ears. "You see it too can't you son?" she asks, not letting him respond as she continues, "the way that Kamo fits so well with her, they're already planning on remarrying her".

Kashimo's heart drops, as he glances over at you and Choso speaking again before turning his attention to his mother. "That's nonsense, you're overthinking--" "Oh! Just! I can't even argue with you because they'd make a much better match," his mother states. She huffs at Kashimo who doesn't know what to say. To him, it reminds him of when he was getting scolded as a child, normally he'd talk back but his mother was swift. "I don't even know anymore! Whether I was blessed with you- isn't it funny? Hah! MY SON CAN WIN ALL BATTLES BUT HE CAN'T EVEN WIN IN LOVE". Kashimo feels his shoulders stiffen as he senses your eyes on him, your worried eyes, now glancing at him as his mother lets out all her anger on him. He is sure that everyone is enjoying this drama, but in this moment he can't stand the idea of you being with someone else. He ignores his mother as he holds your gaze, greatly enjoying the fact that you are worried for him, that you care. Kashimo doesn't know but he just decides then that he wants you to be with him. That he doesn't want a divorce, that he wants to be by your side, that he, he is in love with you too.

He was just too stupid, too oblivious to understand that he had developed feelings. He just didn't recognize them, he has only ever understood completely the rush of adrenaline in battle. He hasn't ever really had anyone care for him in such a manner.

Kashimo can feel himself getting jealous as your attention averts away from him as Choso mentions something to you. All he knows is that he doesn't like the idea of you looking at someone else the way you do to him. So he bolts over to your side, he isn't sure what he'll do but he knows it just feels right. You're shocked when Kashimos hands wrap around your waist from behind. You face heats up as he rests his head on your shoulder, his hot breath hitting your neck and causing you to shiver. You don't even register the way he glares at Choso, shooing him away, or even Choso's dismissal of himself. All you know is that Kashimo seems strangely possessive.

It's a completely new sensation. Your hand softly places itself on Kashimo's face as you squirm a bit from his hold, not use to being touched. Kashimo snaps out of his thoughts, successfully having chased Choso off he releases you sensing your discomfort. He doesn't know what to say, nor do as you both stare at each other. Kashimo decides that he is horrible at communication so he just grabs your hand, pulling you along with him outside of the party. You just continue watching his facial expression in confusion as he ushers you outside. His face is serious as a crowd of people part for him, and it makes you wonder whether you did something wrong. You decide to speak first once you're both alone in a secluded section of the gardens out back. "If this is about me and Choso it's not what you think, that girl earlier was just crazy- uh I'm, really sorry," you apologize, gaze shifting downwards as you anticipate his response. Your fingers tightly intertwine and squeeze in worry. You flinch in surprise as he cups your face in his hands, tilting you to look up at him. "That's not it, stop apologizing! It isn't your fault!" he states, gently squishing you cheeks for emphasis. You feel your face warm up as he continues to stare, his eyes moving from yours down to your lips.

Kashimo just finds himself loss in your face at the moment. His brain is thinking about how cute you are, smiling, albeit nervously as your cheeks are squished. He is thinking about how soft your cheeks are, how pretty your eyes are in the sunlight, how adorable your nose is, and how kissable your lips look. Does this even make sense? He doesn't care, in fact he doesn't know how to express it in words, but he tries anyway. "I know I haven't been the ideal partner, and I've been really pathetic, really, but would you still give me a chance to prove myself worthy? These feelings are a bit new, but I want to be with you, I- I'm attracted to you! You're so kind, amazing, ah- I just didn't realize, I do love you..." he blurts, mumbling at the end, letting go of your face as his hands fall to his sides. Kashimo's face is red from embarrassment, he feels much like a child, wanting to grab your hands, and kiss you. However, he doesn't want to cause more damage than he already has. His eyes shift away from you for a moment, he is really scared, and this is new to him too. Kashimo feels like if he loses you, it'd be worser than losing any fight in his life. He instantly becomes concerned as you start crying, you still love him too, and you're just so happy. Happy that he feels the same too, and that these persistent feelings in your heart are now accepted. Your eyes begin overflowing as your vision blurs when you attempt to look at Kashimo clearly. "I'm willing, I'm just so happy! I thought you wouldn't ever- that it was over," you hiccup, smiling still. Kashimo has a major wave of relief wash over him, but it's more than that, it is like a cleansing for a new beginning. He wraps you in his arms again, hugging you to his chest as his hand softly pets your head. He comes close to your ear, "shhhh, I'm here now and I'll be with you from now on," he says glancing lovingly at you. His hand gently moving down to wipe more tears from your face. You calm down as you lean into his touch, his palm feels hot against your skin, glancing up at him you hesitantly ask, "could I kiss you?". He nods, "you don't have to ask, just do it," Kashimo says grinning at your embarrassment. He doesn't let you dwell on the idea as he leans down to kiss you. It is the greatest kiss you've ever had, full of emotional need and warm. Your hands wrap around his neck to pull him down, closer to you as your hand entangles a bit with his cyan hair. His lips are just as soft as you remember, and the kiss goes deeper as you both only part when the need for air is present. You're in a daze as you watch the string of salvia clinging between your lips and his. Your tongue burns slightly from the wrestling you'd been doing with him. It isn't surprising that Kashimo is so passionate when it comes to kissing, as you've imagined a couple times before. The point is that it is much more surreal as you stare at him huffing down at you two. His eyes heavily hooded as he stares at you almost hungrily. Kashimo's hands are holding you again, he sits down on a nearby bench, pulling you onto his lap as he lays on your chest staring up at you dreamily. He decides he wants to protect you at all costs, and that he won't be so stupidly reckless no more. He just wants to spend his time appreciating you and you, with him. He sinks into the way you giggle at him and play with his hair. He is content with starting this new chapter of his life with you, knowing that he was able to win in romance too.

© 2023 by Hinakazino, do not translate/edit/claim or use my work in any form.

[colourstreakgryffin]

First JJK Post! In celebration of Hidden Inventory coming to the anime! I’m not going to write about Toji—

But a character i believe can be a real babe; Hajime Kashimo!

Kashimo as a boyfriend Headcanons!

Kashimo is like a big spoiler altogether, if you don’t know who he is, please don’t read this

Never felt anything before he met you. Kashimo figured his entire purpose was to challenge Sukuna and perhaps win or lose. But now, he wants to be around you all the time. He almost forgets about Sukuna

A bit clingy. Once Kashimo is in love, he believes he is entitled to you and that you’re now his with no question. He isn’t pushy or harsh towards you but he is defensive of other men approaching you and always stands besides you, waiting for you to notice him

When you do and invite him to spend time with you. He accepts it and looks at you with the most lovestruck stare, no words. Both before and whilst dating, he does this. He can’t help but admire your beauty. You’re so perfect, he wants to keep you as his

Actually very shy, believe it or not. Kashimo didn’t know what hand-holding, kissing or affection really was, so you had to teach him. He gets flustered when you kiss his cheek, he is a stuttering mess when you cuddle his side

Loves PDA and clings onto your hand as much as possible. He likes knowing that you’re right next to him and rubbing your fingers on his knuckles calms him down

Mean it, you keep Kashimo from killing literally everybody. He never wants to use his attacks around you, they could hit you and that tears up his heart so he reframes from attacking threats(being your friends) whilst you’re around

Feel proud that the God of Lightning confides to you all the time. He is just like a loyal bulldog, he chases away the people that bothers you, fights for you, and gives you his heart and more on a silver platter

Kashimo is no where near as violent and aggressive when you’re around. He’s soft-spoken and gentle, it’s as if all his bloodthirst disappeared and love-hearts form over his head. He is truly in love

“Are you cold? Well. Here, I’ll give a hug. I don’t know if it’ll help but I’m warm and hugs keep you warm, right? Yeah, come here then”

Kashimo is very protective. He is very strong, a sorcerer with almost no real competition but that doesn’t mean you are magically stronger yourself. You’re in danger all the time, due to this stupid Culling Game. So Kashimo is constantly fighting battles for you

Kashimo worries about your safety and your life. You’re fragile compared to him and he feels obligated to keep you away from the battlefield. A single scratch on your flawless skin and he goes nuts. Suspect him to strike down Panda again out of pure fury. Is he throwing a temper tantrum? … A little bit but it’s purely because he’s worried

Hakari can’t be anywhere near you or Kashimo will try to kill him again so be prepared to hold him back and stop him. Wrap your arms around his waist and give him a kiss on his cheek. Tada! Kashimo has stopped trying to strike Hakari down and is turning around to pet your hair

Kashimo likes pet names and giving you headpats. He finds you extremely cute and wants to express it with gentle touch and playful nicknames. Though, he is getting use to using pet names and sometimes gets nervous that you won’t like a pet name idea so he comes off as shy

“I need to eat? No, Kitten, I’m okay. You eat first— oh? The name. D-do you not like it? Kittens are cute and you’re cute so I figured, you fit being a kitten. Can I keep— I can? Thank lord, or I guess, thank you. Lemme kiss you, Kitten”

Kashimo, as mentioned before, is a very loyal boyfriend. He doesn’t even look at any woman or man, he knows you’re the woman of his dreams so he doesn’t see any reason to bother looking at anybody else when he can just look at you. Plus, to him, you’re so much more pretty

Kashimo is a semi-best friend type of boyfriend. If you want to one-up somebody in your giant group, Kashimo is helping you all the way to lighten your spirits. You confide to Kashimo about your issues and he remembers them, you spend almost all your free time chatting up a storm to Kashimo as he listens with a smile

Yeah, Kashimo isn’t the best with comfort but he remembers that you like hugs and kisses so that’s what he does. After battles or after a scary scene, Kashimo is cuddling you to his chest and kissing everywhere he can in hopes that you’ll calm down

Kashimo shields you from everything scary. Any horrific fight or death, Kashimo will hide you from it so you won’t be scared, he can take horrific sights very well. If he cannot hide you, he clutches you to his side and redirects your eyes. He cares about your mental health and protecting you from those horrible sights saves you

He’s the God of Lightning and you’re his goddess. The goddess he worships like no other, he gives everything of his to you and thrives off your happiness. Your smile is his, your fear is his, your anger is his. Kashimo mirrors you, the one who brought him those emotions in the first place

Kashimo will never think twice of protecting you with everything he has(which is a lot mind you), because he believes you deserve it. Hell, he heavily considers asking you to marry him, he has been granted with a second chance of life and a new body, he’s gonna take advantage of it. Living a second life with a incredible woman like you sounds better then the lonely first life he had

[nanamiskentos]

SPORTS CAR ✤ jujutsu kaisen

SYN. ➤ Zero decorum, max horsepower, full send. They don't just want the checkered flag, they want you wrecked and beggin'. This grid certainly doesn't play fair!

𝐉𝐉𝐊 ➤ Getō, Gojō, Tōji, Chōsō, Sukuna, Kashimo, Yuki, Shoko

cw ─ MDNI. afab!reader, FORMULA 1 AU, semi-publíc, praise, cockpit séx (highly inaccurate), possessive séx, chóking, spánking, reader is called 'bunny' in kashimo's, rough hándling, dírty talk, créampié, óral (f), mirror séx, backshóts, under the table, voice kínk, fíngeríng, overstím, squírting, medical pláy, tríbbing, strípping, cervíx kissing

wc. 8k

呪術廻戦 NOTE ( author says ) i've watched every sports car x f1 edit on tiktok i think. any likeness or resemblance to real f1 drivers is only a coincidence, nor is this reflective of the real profession 😭 didn't write this with particular racers or teams in mind.

☁︎ GOJŌ SATORU ➤ p1 & panting

". . he did it in tokyo, he did in kyoto, satoru gojo wins again, folks! that's his fifth prix win this season! absolutely unbelievable, my god."

the engine's still ticking down, the comms are crackling. you can barely register the deafening cheers before you're being yanked forward, senses overtaken by the scent of peppery armani.

"satoru –, wait," you're gasping, half-tripping into the cockpit as the pit crew's radio voice filters in.

"gojo, repeat, are you still in the car? you need to –"

but the headset cuts off with a click as he tears it from your ears, tossing it somewhere that you can't see. his crimson race gloves have been pulled off, but gojo's skin is still searing hot, slick with sweat and speed. pink lips parted, panting, not just from exhaustion, but from the look he's giving you.

"you're lucky i didn't pull you in mid-lap," gojo grins, and you fight the urge to tell him how impossible that would be, as his sharp white canines peek out from underneath his wolfish grin, flushed with victory, "baby, did you see that finish?"

you know the rational option here would be protesting, knowing that the team is probably workin' themselves up into a flurry in the garage, but it's hard not to feel light-headed and so damn hungry when gojo's gripping your waist, and dragging you just in front of the console, right up against the curve of the cramped cabin. thank god, the team opted for a mildly roomier cockpit this year, or else. . .

his helmet's off, snow-white hair a mess, and his jewel-blue eyes are electric, "i've got 'bout five minutes before they notice i'm not doing interviews." gojo's already pawing at your thighs, fingers desperate to tear down the waistband of your underwear, "i want them to wonder where i am."

gojo's teasing hands slips between your thighs, already playing with your slippery centre, and your boyfriend's leaning in, that rasp echoing against your cheek, "wanna show me how proud you are of your winner, baby?"

the car's still hot, the windows are fogging, and outside. . .the cameras are still flashing. but inside, it's just you and gojo, and the scent of burnt rubber and carbon fibre, and he's clearly not letting you go 'till you've screamed louder than the crowd.

gojo's already shoving his scarlet racing suit down to his shapely hips, movements sloppy with urgency as he settles you in his lap. long leaking cock already smearing a thin line of pre over his chiselled abdomen, "just a few minutes, sweets," he's murmuring against your throat, "we can make it work, yeah?"

you shouldn't, you really shouldn't. the entire paddock must be outside. the media, the team, the telemetry crew. . .everyone is either lookin' for him, or watching the live feed gojo's just abandoned. or they know not to look too closely, it's hard to challenge the king of the track when he's just pulled another podium win.

gojo's hands are rocking your hips back and forth, and he's determined to have as much of your slick coat his base before he truly snags his cock in. tongue laving at your jumping pulse, peppering sharp kisses against your soft flesh.

"t-toru –," you try, shaky breath catching as he continues to grind your folds against his cock, parting them to slot his thick shaft between them. teasing, and so sensitive.

"you looked soo hot standin' there," gojo murmurs, cerulean eyes lidded and starving to feel you drip arousal all over him, making a sticky mess, "lookin' so g-gorgeous, and – heh, this wet all f'me? is that it, baby? can't even think straight."

you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as his thick, bulbous tips snags against the hood of where you're most sensitive, giving your clit that most delicious friction you'd been craving.

"yeahhh," gojo purrs, nosing along your jaw, "i saw ya', crossed the finished line and thought how l-lucky i am that you're mine."

god, you just need to breathe through it, breathe through the incredible aphrodisiac that's called gojo satoru. he's already tweaking his fingers through your sopping cunt, dragging them against your folds to reach up and pinch at your clit.

"we don't have t-time –" but your thighs are shaking, heart already jumping at how close the stimulation has you to knocking on the door of a brilliant orgasm.

"i'll make time," gojo simply says, already lining himself up. the fucker's giggling to himself, heady and drunk from his win, slowly pattering his fingers up your abdomen as though he knows just how deep he's going to be. kneading at your groin, like x marks the spot.

the stretch simply steals the words from your mouth, rendering your language into a soft mush, shaken by how delicious his cock feels in your sticky, gummy walls. your head lolls against his broad, flushed shoulder — the creamy skin mottled strawberry-pink.

gojo's hissing, low and feral, absolutely gone as he holds you down, filling you straight to the hilt, each vein pressing and melding against your pussy.

"hahh, oh, baby," your boyfriend groans, bucking up once to test the clear water, fast and deep, like he wants to feel every tremble of your form above him, "always s-so perfect for me after a win."

the pace is brutal, desperate, made worse by how little space there is in the cockpit. your back slams into the dash, but it's softened by his large hand splayed across the skin. legs hooked haphazardly over his carved waist, bodies tangled in both victory and vice.

plap! plap! smack!

"ya' feel t-that," gojo pants, thrusts growing harsher, cock pressing up against that sweet spot that makes you sob, "that's what champions do, heh."

every low swirl of his shaking hips is hypnotic, and so dizzying, making a filthy mess that you know is going to puddle and seep into over his groin, soak into the curl of white hairs dusting the base of his girthy shaft.

"you gonna' cum for ya' w-winner?" gojo gasps, that priggish, love-struck grin still painted over his gorgeous features, even as his voice begins to shake, "say it, baby. tell me i'm your f-favourite."

"you, s-satoru," you half-sob, half-plead, "you're my favourite. god, it's so deep." wrecked, begging, and he groans like this is the podium he wanted all along.

your orgasm hits like white noise, blotting out the world beyond. you can barely register his stuttering hips, his sharp curses of your name, god, he loves you. his sharp breath hitches as gojo follows you over the edge.

satin-like ropes of cum shooting up to fill you up soo perfectly, and the world champion is sinking his teeth into your neck as he moans your name, low and ruined.

"i can't believe you were that horny n' hard after a race," you scold, body still trembling from the aftershocks. feeling warmth pool between your tacked groins, as your arousal mixes with him seed.

"you love it," gojo replies, not a hint of shame colouring his voice, "besides, this car's seen worse. like the time i got myself off, jus' thinking about you in spain. was only lookin' at you through the windows, that was enough."

"you did it on your own in this car, just from looking at me?"

gojo kisses your jaw, "don't shame me, i'm a sensitive man." he snickers as you smack his, holding you tighter.

outside, the pit crew must be losing their minds. but inside, gojo just won the real prize, and he's buried inside.

☁︎ GETŌ SUGURU ➤ in the devil's seat

the telemetry room is freezing, cold enough to keep everyone sharp and alert, absolutely on edge. but noting could make you more on edge than the hot seat that you're currently sitting in right now. just besides geto suguru, headseat askew, trying to not to moan when his fingers scissor through your folds again.

on the wall, the sector times update in real time, and god. . .the room is packed. screens flickering, engineers perched over the high chairs as they murmur, utterly focused on the little red dot zipping across the map.

see, you'd joined the team for simulations, not stimulations. but you're hardly one to complain, not when you know how much of an effect this has on geto. his sculpture-carved jaw is ticking, a faint flush blooming on the back of his neck that could be easily attributed to the excitement of the race.

"gojo, purple in sector two," geto's flatly leaning into the silver microphone, voice entirely level, "box this lap, copy?"

his other hand is under your waistband. two fingers, long and expert, utterly merciless, circle your slick folds deep and slow. knowing exactly how to make you tremble without a sound, thankfully, with the table in the way.

the rough pads of geto's fingertips are soaking up every beading drop of your arousal, his knuckles glossy with your release. he leans in, cool lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice low and determined, "c'mon, stay still. don't want my pretty girl embarrassing herself."

you can only nod, biting your lower lip so hard that you swear iron blooms on your tongue. but it had been hard to resist anything when geto suguru looked at you like that before quali, pulling you aside and asking you to shadow him during the race. violet eyes lidded, the faintest watercolour brush of rose plastered over his cheekbones.

and. . .your headset is still on. one wrong noise, one hasty move, and everyone will probably hear exactly how you shadow the famed geto suguru. you're sure your microphone levels are low enough so they don't pick up on the constant, sloppy squelch! of geto's middle and ring finger plunging into your dripping core.

"my clever girl," geto coos, but his eyes don't shift from watching the golden boy's onboards (gojo satoru, of course). well, aside from the temporary loss in his composure when you clench the sticky walls of your inner muscles against his fingers, his ink-dark lashes briefly fluttering wide in shock. lookin' close enough to spill a thick load in his slacks.

your body must be shaking now, your thighs trembling with the herculean exertion that geto's pulling from you. every new lap, every clean turn from gojo is matched by geto sinking his fingers deeper into you, drawing slack and curling up against that sweet, rough patch until you choke on a whimper.

a wan smile twitches his lips, almost amused. fond, even. he's caught it, he knows just how close you are to spilling over his hands. that release that he's just equally desperate to chase, geto needs you to fall apart on him.

"there it is," geto's purring, and you can barely hear the excitement his tone over the ringing in your ears, "good girl." someone's leaning over from behind, and thank god they can't see exactly what's been going on beneath the table, "suguru, sector 3 delta just spiked."

geto doesn't blink, temporarily halting the wet sloshes that he's composing between your thighs. rather, focusing some much needed attention on the swollen bundle of nerves beneath your mound, "that's expected. wind change near turn fourteen."

his thumb roughly tacks beneath the glistening hood, "you're doing so well," geto breathes against your temple, "think you've earned a reward after this. . .or a punishment, what'd you say?"

it only takes three more tender, pounding hits of his long fingers against the most sensitive spots. your eyes flutter shut, mouth pressed thinly as you're determined to not cry, nor gasp and moan. but each swipe of geto's digits against your clit undos your resolve further and further, your thighs shaking from the extra stimulation.

and when gojo wins the pole, cheers breaking through your headset, the room leaping to its feat, geto doesn't even flinch. he's slowly withdrawing his hand from your waistband. fingertips pruned, sticky and warn as he slips them into your mouth. discreet, hungry.

"clean up, gorgeous," geto gruffly whispers, his mauve eyes drawn to how your lips eagerly part around his index finger, "we should celebrate tonight."

your head must be spinning, legs numb from what geto has wrought from you, that dazzling orgasm that leaves the world awash in shades of silver and white. you can taste yourself, that bittersweet tang on his fingers, and it renders you dazed.

"thaaaat's it, beautiful," geto laughs, licking the last of your moans and release from his finger, "now you're learnin' real strategy."

☁︎ RYŌMEN SUKUNA ➤ crash into me

the door of the driver's trailer slams shut behind you, like a starting light hitting green. your back hits the wall you before you can even speak, before you can even wonder at what exactly has gotten into your fiancé now.

ryomen sukuna's warm hand is wrapped around your throat, a thumb gently soothing at the lower juncture of your jaw. his other hand is still smudged with track rubber and sticky grease, gripping your waist tight enough to deliciously bruise.

"they think i'm reckless," sukuna's voice is a hot, sharp growl in your ear, "then let's give 'em a reason to blacklist me, eh, sweetheart?"

perhaps it would be wiser to interrupt him, to warn sukuna that the media is still swarming outside, and this is the last thing the fia will tolerate from him. but russet eyes are almost. . .tender as they roam over you, his grasp on the base of your neck enough to make your brain melt and your knees forget how to hold you up.

"wanna' be my podium, girl? i should have you on your knees, don't ya' agree?" sukuna's still in his fireproofs, unzipped just enough to expose the broad, tan expanse of his chest. the inky-black tattoos crawling down his skin, some sin-streaked marks that you ache to press your lips to.

maroon eyes gleam, still utterly high off the chaos of the race, from the penalty that cost him his pole for the rest of the weekend. and you? well, you're gonna' have to be his victory lap instead.

you moan, wanton and improper, as sukuna's mouth teases down your neck, pressing to your collarbones before clawed nails tear open your blouse as though it's a paper flag, yanking you forward by a sturdy, yet thin chain. bringing you closer still, eye to eye with the racer that the world calls the king of curses.

and of course, what else would be dangling from the chain but his name? sukuna, the kanji letters encrusted with small precious stones, a gift that he had surprised you with for your most recent anniversary.

"hah, you wear this for me? cute lil' trophy like you're my number one fan, orrr my good luck charm?"

sukuna pushes you against the opposite wall, jostling the numerous trophies that already litter the shelves. you gasp, certain that pools of arousal must already be glistening between your thighs. his hand slides lower, rough and greedy, impatient as he tends to be. slipping past the lace edge of your panties to paw at your sopping folds.

he's groaning, hot and heavy, feeling just how wet you are. sukuna's almost ecstatic at the thought that his girl was walkin' around with such a. . .waterpark between her legs. primed to gush over him, to soak the base of his cock with every nasty thrust that he's daydreaming about.

"you're s-soaked, sweetheart. you're likin' this, aren'tcha?"

your head lolls as you nod, succumbing to the sweet hands of pleasure throbbing below your groan. sukuna smacks your thigh, and the force is hard enough for your eyes to flutter open, his warm hand gently running over the stung skin to soothe the flesh, "eyes on me, girl. remember what i said 'bout being my podium? ya' gotta' earn it."

there's little warning before sukuna scoops you up, lifting you bridal style, only to throw you down onto the little couch in the corner of the trailer, yanking the remainder of his race suit down with a snarl, "s-see, this is what they gotta' know. i can't do. . .slow or soft. i win, heh."

you know full well that sukuna is capable of both slow and soft, and thick, heavy strokes that dig through your cunt as he often holds you down in the most delicious mating press. but you're not eager to quite rain on his ego parade, unless, of course, it's a different sort of rain from between your legs that he can eagerly lap up.

sukuna must be leaving marks on your hips, teeth on your collarbone, handprints on your thighs. each thrust of his thick, wide cock must be some punishment for the stewards, for the world, for the fact that he didn't really get to break someone out there today.

but you, his gorgeous wife-to-be? you can take it, and sukuna has to hide the rapid flush blooming over his face, opting to nip at the back of your neck.

"we're gonna' do this 'till those fuckin' stewards retract that penalty," sukuna pants into your ear, thick cock rummaging sweet patterns right up into you as the tufts of soaked blush-pink hair are pressed right against you. imprinting the thick vein that runs along the underside of his cock in a way that has you seeing stars and gasping oh so prettily, "or 'till the walls fall in, whichever comes first."

☁︎ TŌJI FUSHIGURO ➤ wrenched wide open

it started with a wrench, and no, not a metaphorical tool. a literal wrench, dropped from your armful of gear, clanging far too loudly against the concrete in the empty garage. you're flinching, cursing under your breath. it's past dark, rain still slickin' the floor outside, and most of the team's already gone.

you shouldn't be here, you're just the rookie. you're supposed to be following orders, not fuckin' around with loose bolts and leftover adrenaline. which is exactly when you realise that you're not quite alone.

the metal shutter behind you slams down with a mechanical growl, loud and final. you whip around. . .toji fushiguro. beefy arms folded, sweat clinging to the curve of his neck. verdant eyes darker than engine oil, and just as dangerous.

he doesn't speak right away, just watches as you clench your thighs, almost sub-consciously (or so he thinks, little does he know that you know just how to rile him up).

"you always this sloppy, doll? or just when i'm watching?"

your skin is flushed, heat crawling up your spine as though it's chasing the storm outside. toji's eyes are deliciously dragging down your body, lingering on the curve of your hips, the way your soaked polo clings to your chest.

he knows exactly what you want.

toji's already moving, and he's on you in two steps, rough fingers curling around your wrist, grunting as he tugs you backwards. your spine hitting the warm sidepod of the car, the paint is still slick from rain and truck dust, and it makes you shiver.

"i rebuilt this v6 before breakfast," toji mutters, voice thick with gravel, and the promise of upcoming sin, "let's see if you can last longer than that."

one of toji's veined hands are braced beside your head, the other already on your thighs. teasing, slow as they drag up your soaked coveralls until —

"you ever been fucked like this, doll? no? good, first time for everything."

toji doesn't wait, he doesn't hesitate, for he lifts you as though you're just another part he's decided to torque into place. your legs wrap around his waist out of sheer instinct, and he's grinding deeply into you. a thick and heavy bulge pressed right up against you, his scarred lips grazing your ear, "look at ya', all squirmy for me in your pretty team gear. bet ya' touched yourself thinkin' about this, 'bout me."

hah, he's right. but you're not going to give him the express satisfaction of knowing just how many times you had straddled the edge of your bed back in the hotel, legs spread wide as you softly grazed your swollen clit with rough fingers, imagining it was toji picking you apart.

you stifle a lazy, drawn-out moan when toji finally shoves your coveralls down, when grease-stained fingers slide between your thighs with no patience, just raw want. you can see how toji's jaw slackens, maw wide at how soaked you already are.

"f-fuck," toji grins, pressing his forehead to yours, so his choppy raven bangs gently kiss your skin, "you're wetter than the goddamn track out there, doll."

his fingers are fast, expert and precision-tuned. two knuckles deep and curling just right, while toji's other hand fists in your shirt, dragging you against his muscled chest, "stay quiet f'me." and it's not a suggestion.

you try, but the noise still slip in tiny gasps and stuttering moans, caught against his shoulder as he works you open with practiced ease. your hands claw at his arms, at his rippling biceps as he preps you.

"that's it, gorgeous, let go. you gon' cum for me already?" toji grunts, thumbing at your clit with precise precision, "yeah? who knew you'd like being handled like a busted part? it's okay, girl, i got you."

you're shaking, barely biting back a whimper as he works you right through, feeling his lengthy cock already hard and pressing through his thick, rough pants.

it's an earth shattering orgasm that launches right at you, your back arched against the side of the car, his fingers still dipping through your glossy folds. toji's coaxing you right through the orgasm as if he's fine-tuning a prized engine.

and then, he's pulling right back. unzipping his pants with one hand, the other still planted firmly between your thighs, "hope ya' weren't planning on walking tomorrow, doll."

the wiry, fine hairs at the base of thick cock immediately brush up against your ass, such was the firm precision and speed of toji jackhammering himself into his new delightful home. heavy and deep, so you can feel the smack! of thick, weighted balls against your plush flesh.

the stretch burnin' in the best way possible honestly, and you're crying out, but his palm claps over your mouth immediately, emerald eyes narrowed and sleazy grin crooked, "ah, ah, gotta' be quiet. wouldn't want the interns hearin' what their favourite engineer gets up to after hours, eh?"

you just moan against his palm, and toji groans. hips slamming harder, rougher and relentless. his other hands grabs your jaw, thumb sliding down to press into your throat, not choking. jus' holding, reminding you who's in charge. for now, you blithely wonder, visions of milking toji dry already blooming in your mind.

but it's hard to not fall apart almost immediately, his thick tip swabbing at your most sensitive points. twitching, and pulsing, clenching around toji's cock in a way that makes him follow suit. thick, glossy ropes of heavy, strong cum spurting right out of him, the sheer volume so much that it leaks straight out of you, dribbling down your thighs.

toji's biting hard enough to leave marks, claiming and branding. and you would swear that you hear him whisper sweet nothings that he would sooo deny in the morning, praises about how you're the sweetest thing ever, and he's just gotta' have you.

and then, simply just because he's toji fushiguro, he grabs the nearest shop rag, wiping at the mess from your stomach and thighs without blinking. stuffing it into his pocket as though it's nothing, "gonna' head back and get myself off with this doll, see ya' at the briefing tomorrow." already zipping up, packing that monster-length cock (yeah, seriously) back into his pants.

and. . . did he just steal your panties? you stare dumbly after him, hearing his footsteps recede as your maw slackens, before you quickly pick up the pace, "hey! toji, wait up!"

☁︎ CHŌSŌ KAMO ➤ throttle control

you noticed choso kamo before he ever even spoke to you. everyone else at the pre-season shoot was all swagger and self-tanner, yelling over for each other and muggin' for the cameras like it was monaco already.

choso, though? off to the side in full black and mauve team gear, rain jacket zipped up despite the heat. headphones in, hazel eyes still as he seemed to be gunning for the most not like other girls title ever.

not shy, not awkward. just. . . still. like the calm before the thunder, the silence before the powerful storms that often rolled in with your fellow drivers. like gojo satoru or hajime kashimo, ugh.

he's often quiet, and never resistant. rookie drivers usually have some sorta' ego or walls. choso has neither. he just nods, your name falling from his pale lips in low and reverent symbols. moving aside so you can stand beside him for the sponsor shoot. no plastered, winning smile, just eyes that track you like the managers track the telemetry data.

you ignore the heat curlin' in your stomach, or you try to. and it's just soo much worse when you catch his eyes on you, watching again. and again, as though you're a famous painting with strokes that he wants to memorise and commit to preservation.

so, there's really no other move but to corner him after the barcelona press run, heart pounding like a misfiring clutch, "what?" you're teasing, "you only speak in throttle maps and finish times?"

choso says little and less, but his voice is as quiet as rainfall as he sniffs, cheeks flushed sakura-blossom pink, "i would touch you, if you would have me. and then, i wouldn't know how to stop."

yeah, you remembered that you stopped breathing after that, right when everyone was being rushed into their cars, the respective engineers snappin' in their ears.

but choso crashes out in a stormy qualifying. a rookie mistake, too fast on the apex, rear tires losing grip. he's not hurt, thank god, but the radio teams go dead, and when you tumble back to the garages, he's soaked, still in his fireproofs, fists clenched with eyes dark and hollow, as though he's miles away from here.

"choso –"

he grabs you, not harsh nor urgent. just sudden, desperate. right behind the stacked tire warmers like a man starving for you, and you only.

"don't leave, angel," choso pants, voice ragged against your neck, "not yet, need to feel something good, something. . . that isn't failure. i mean, c-can i –"

you nod once, a thick lump suddenly in your throat presenting an ironic whiplash to the low throb in your groin. it starts soft, it always does with him, and it doesn't surprise you.

choso's hands are wet, shaking, ghosting up underneath your compression top. one glove still one, the rough texture pinching your pert nipple, teasing over your chest. the other glove? he pulls off with his teeth, slow and silent as he tosses it away. touching you like every second of it is a prayer answered.

and then, finally, choso kisses you. not a peck, nor testing. devouring. slick mouth on yours as though it's the last lap, and you're the checkered flag. his tongue drags against your lips, fingers twisted into your waistband as though he's afraid you vanish from his grasp.

"y-you're the only thing that makes me lose control like this, angel," choso whispers, voice raspy and streaked with gravel, barely audible under the storm still hissing off the track. he's got you on the back of the wall now, kisses trailing lines down your throat, soft teeth scraping skin.

you can only arch for him, dizzy with the weight and want of him. knowing exactly what typa' width and length he must be packing in the pretty curve of his blue-veined cock.

his hips grind against yours, slow at first, as though he's restraining himself, but the second your mouth releases a soft whimper, "cho –, please," well. . . the switch flips, and he's gasping. mouth biting at your jaw, your collar, hands suddenly everywhere.

gripping, pinning, claiming. his glove slides under your panties like silk over fire, fingers moving in smooth n' practiced strokes that make your knees buckle.

"so w-wet already," choso murmurs, breath warm against your skin, "you like when i touch you like this, angel?"

you nod, or maybe, you cry out in pleasure. he swallows up the sound with his mouth on yours. fucking you with his fingers 'til you're shaking, overstimulated, clutching at his dark fireproofs with nails and moans, and fevered pleas of more, choso! more!

"been thinkin' about how you'd sound," choso groans, face buried in your neck, "when i make you cry." and you do, from the pressure, the stretch, the relentless way he owns every inch of you.

his other hand quickly pushes the band of his boxers down. revealing the prettiest cock that you'd ever laid eyes upon, glorious and standing tall, and already leaking. your mouth waters, salivating at the idea of laving over each purple vein.

so when he finally pushes into you, raw and thick, buried deep, your whole body arches into his. slotting like the most perfect puzzle pieces, as choso whispers your name as though it's holy.

"mine," choso breathes, fucking you slow and deep, and you feel almost heady on his scent (well, that and the wafting fuel). but he rummages his cock through you as though he's carving you right out, "mine, say it. p-please, say it, angel."

oh, and you do. over and over, 'til it's not even words anymore, just sounds, sobs, tremours between kisses and moans, and skin on skin. after, when your back is sticky with heat, and his mouth is still at your throat, choso doesn't let go, peppering his lips to your waiting mouth, "i'm sorry, didn't mean to be rough."

you have a faint vision of headlines tomorrow, tiktoks being posted blatantly circling the blooming love bites over your neck, and you just can't help but pull him in closer, looping your arms around his thick neck to meld your lips against his, "don't apologise, cho. just don't stop."

his smile is small, tired, but lovestruck. kissin' you again like he's already addicted.

☁︎ HAJIME KASHIMO ➤ disqualified for conduct

so. . . you had been warned. every other pr manager on the team had handed you his file like it was some cursed object. one crossed himself, another just whispered, "he's impossible to manage, good luck."

they were talking about hajime kashimo, the track's golden boy, of course. thunder on the track, a menace in the paddock. the gist of it was pretty simple: he wins, he grins, he fucks.

you figured it couldn't be that bad. you'd handled difficult drivers before, all of their inflated egos, tempers and tantrums, so why would you not be ready?

oh, how wrong you were.

he doesn't even try to pretend to be decent during interviews, flirting and batting his lashes through every question like the camera was his bedroom mirror. you did your best to pretend your breath didn't hitch, and your thighs didn't jump and clench with each 'good girl' bestowed upon you.

"tch', kashimo, zip up those fireproofs. you gotta' be on the big screen in ten."

teal eyes undoing you (truly, undressing you) with lightning-precise intensity, "you can zip 'em up now, bunny. and you can unzip them after podium too."

"go fuck yourself."

"oh, when you say it like that, maybe –"

yeah, that sums up the push and pull relationship between you and hajime kashimo. so it's not a vast surprise when it all pools over one hot afternoon in monza. practice is long over, and the team is distracted by data feedback and tire degradation, somethin' about slamming down the big hotshot, gojo satoru.

but of course, 'round the corner, it's just your luck. kashimo, half-naked, towel slung low, with cyan hair loose and damp over his toned, sculpted shoulders. you try not to trail your eyes past the beads of exertion that slick across his carved abdominals.

"keep looking at me like that, gorgeous," kashimo snickers, towel slipping just an inch in a way that answers the question of whether the carpet matches the drapes, "and i'll put you in my cockpit instead of the car."

you shove him, doing your best to fight the furious flush threatening to sink you to your aching knees, "seriously, that's the best you could come up with?"

"is that a yes, bunny?"

"only if you win tonight."

ah, but you should have known hajime kashimo is never all bark, no bite. he walks the talk, and there's nothin' that man craves more than a challenge, a fight to get his blood roaring.

it slips your mind entirely, that vow of yours, not even when the entire team is leaping up and down, pulling each other into tight embraces as kashimo scores pole position once more. his turquoise, jewel-tone eyes are bright, wild despite the late hour and the physical exertion of over an hour of supersonic speed.

a hand is already pulling you into the back of the motorhome, setting you right down over. . . the champagne crate.

"hah, knew i had to win out there, gorgeous. knew i had to win just for you."

it's hard to know who initiated it, but you're kissing kashimo, and he's kissing you, — pouring the taste of expensive liquor and mint into your mouth as you suck on his tongue, rake your nails through his scalp.

kashimo's whirling you around, sinking his sharp teeth into your neck, "let's do a lap, bunny. face down, ass up? i can show ya' my best handling."

yeah, what hajime kashimo lacks for in hefty girth, he makes up for in sheer length. kashimo's groaning into your ear, hissing as his cock finally sinks into the soft embrace of your glistening pussy, one hand on your hip and the other rattling hard enough against the plush of your ass to leave fingerprints.

smack!

"sound off for me, gorgeous."

smack!

"thaaaat's it, be loud. everyone should know that i'm the one who's got ya' so pretty, just folded over for me."

you're gnawing on your lower lip, tugging at the skin, desperate to not babble out mindless cries of his name, and kashimo notices. and he's no fan of that, elegant hands grabbing your hair and pulling you up so you can both face the truck's back mirror.

"look at yourself," kashimo pants, still thrusting so deep in you that you're certain each vein has been permanently memorised and printed in your guts, "look at how good ya' take me, like you were built for it."

" –jime, hajime, 'm close," you whine, eyes absolutely cross-eyed and hazy as you let yourself get lost in the sweet, sweet sensation. moaning his name broken and breathless, and it's enough to shatter the infallible kashimo.

kashimo's grunting, a thunderclap in your ear, as he tears the remainder of your underwear off with a sodden rrrrrip! whirling you around once more to hike your leg up onto the crate, swung around his waist to draw him closer inwards.

you know when he finishes inside you, as though he's chasing the fastest lap. hard, quick and deep enough to leave your legs boneless and quivering.

"gonna' make you c-cum again," kashimo groans against your ear, kissing your shoulder as he mouths at your tits, "one more. c'mon, bunny, give it to me, i earned that trophy. wanna' fuck you in my racing suit next."

☁︎ TSUKUMO YUKI ➤ manual override

you still remember your first interview with tsukumo yuki. she had flounced into the room with her black race suit peeled halfway down, sports bra damp with seat, sipping champagne from the bottle.

but you had barely finished your first question before the statuesque blonde had leaned forward, gaze hungry, "you wanna' talk about control systems, baby, or do you wanna' know how i make people lose theirs?"

you should have walked away, but instead, you watched her lick frothy champagne off her thumb like it was all you ever wanted. and you were. . . hooked. now yuki seeks you out in the paddock, every time, pressing too close, tugging you closer by your lanyard, murmuring in your ear, "lookin' a lil' stiff, doll. want me to loosen you up after quali?"

so, this time, she had just set p3 in the wet, slippery rain. helmet already peeled off, golden hair flipping over her face as she catches sight of you, recorder in hand.

"yuki, congrats on quali! do you think the wet weather gave you any –"

a quick hand snatches the mic, plucking it right off your collar and shoving it deep into her thick pockets, "baby, we got plenty of time later, hah, for an interview."

that adrenaline-high look in her big, brown eyes is all too recognisable, and you should have foreseen how she'd drag you right behind the trailer. pinning you to the hood of her personal car, no doubt worth millions, skin still searing from the race.

"come onnn, ya' like fast girls, don't you," yuki whispers, voice a low purr, her sun-streaked hair tickling and kissing your cheek. she's laying you flat across the hood, race suit still hanging half-on, grinding her hips down until you're gasping, biting your lip with whimpers of please, please. . . more!

"say it louderrr, sweetheart." her lips pressed to your navel as you whine for her to sweep her tongue even lower.

"c'mon, you interview champions, right? maybe in your interview, you can tell the press how good i fuck." a kiss now dotted over your hips, slowly following the juncture angle down to your throbbing mound.

"y-yuki," you mewl, unable to hold back the hungry, raw cry when she parts your thick, outermost folds to suckle at your clit, "ouuh, so sensitive. . ."

no mercy, no hesitation. she laps at your folds as though she's setting the fastest lap record, grinning as you're shaking, "that's my pretty girl. still breathing?"

if you wrench your head far back enough at an uncomfortable angle, you can see just how filthy the sight is. yuki's entirely on her knees now, golden hair splayed about her as she nips and licks at your dripping cunt, her chin all glossed up as she drags the lower half of her face through your wetness.

through the haze, you realise that yuki's murmuring something. groaning low into your pussy as though she's speaking to her. the biceps in her muscled arms rippling as she slathers a thick kiss to your cute, twitching clit, "three."

her short fingernails trailing through your cunt, teasing at your winking, glossy entrance, "two."

pink lips separating from your pussy with transparent, clear strands of tangy glossy, and yuki's smacking her mouth, clearly some form of pussydrunk that only you unlock within her, "one."

and bulls-eye, the scrape of her finger in a crooked, come-hither moition against that small, rough patch in your pussy makes you squeal, then groan. the sensation building up until it's just too much and you're gushing over her face. thin, liquid arcs splattering against yuki's beautiful, delighted features as she slaps at your sopping pussy.

"think they'll let me keep a strap in the trailer just so ya' can do that alll over again?"

☁︎ IEIRI SHOKO ➤ flatline me

who hadn't heard of shoko ieiri? the doctor for your team, the surgeon, gorgeous with cinnamon brown hair and dark eyes. you had gotten used to seeing her with a lighter in one hand, and your medical file in the other.

stitchin' bodies back together with blinking, and yet, she couldn't care less about your hotshot reputation. and frankly, you only wanted her even more. so when you ended up with your top off, sprawled on the infirmary table after some stupid spin-out, icing your thigh and nursing a bruised shoulder, you had tried to be charming.

"am i finally your favourite patient, doc?"

shoko only glances up from her scrawled notes, the barest twitch of amusement tugging at her glossy, peach lips. she was still striking a match, lighting a cigarette with practiced ease, her gaze settling on you like a blade to skin.

"hah, hardly," she huffs, "but you could scream the loudest, how 'bout that?" elegant fingers already coming to rest on the waistband of her blue slacks, and you can't help but gulp. resisting the urge to blow your cool or let out some obscene looney-tunes ass wolf whistle.

"strip," shoko murmurs, her tone cool, "i can't help you get better unless i can a proper look." she must be confident that no one would dare interrupt her, that none would walk in while you're urgently pulling your sports bra off your head — and she's discarding her pants elsewhere, revealing creamy, pale thighs that you're desperate to sink your teeth into.

you can feel her oak gaze on you, cataloguing every bruise, every scrape as though you were just another anatomy lesson. but you certainly don't miss how her pink tongue briefly laves over her lower lip, her eyes widening as they roam over your bare chest, focus on how you shimmy right out of your racing suit — till you're bare and naked, legs crossed one over the other .

chilled fingers finally touch your thigh, prodding the faint bruise you've acquired with sharp pressure. you're not ashamed to admit it, a moan escapes your trembling lips.

"you're sloppy, sweet thing," shoko mutters, voice as smooth as ill-fated poison that's honey to your ears, "crash dummy with a death wish."

you hiss as she slaps your thigh, just once. . .not gently. her eyes focused on how your flesh ripples under her touch.

"diagnostic," shoko adds, lips quirked faintly as your body tenses under her hungry gaze, "don't whine, 'cause i warned you." her hands are cold, and the soft pads of her fingertips pinch at your hips, pulling the tender flesh up as your thighs clench. you know that there must be some translucent slick seeping into the medical bedding beneath you.

"i don't think you've earned this," shoko concludes, finally pulling away from you, "but i'm tired of standing up." her fingers hook into the elastic band of her sleek, dark underwear, pulling the fine-woven fabric down until she can kick it off.

leaving your mouth slack in awe at the wondrous prospects you've landed with — the soft curl of dark hair between her thighs, and how shoko's pushing your hips down, climbing onto you so you can peek a flash of slippery pink as she settling over your groin. your pussy already pulsing and twitching at the mere brush of contact between the two of you.

shoko straddles you now, her lower half entirely bare as she pins you in place, cool hands running over your bare chest, your wrist, your jaw. she's still got her tight-knitted blue top clinging to your chest, the white coat thrown over her shoulders, and you're desperate to peel them off her.

"keep quiet, sweet thing," shoko orders, her voice a low hum against your throat, "or i'll have to find another way to shut you up." it's obscene, hearing the wet, sloppy slick of your folds kissing hers.

god, she moves like she's dissecting you, studying you. controlled, methodical and merciless. you're already shaking beneath her, every nerve burning, every sound you made swallowed by the pressure of her palm over your tongue. or the bitter taste of dark coffee on her tongue.

your body arches, hips twitching to desperately attach against hers, aching to feel the kiss of her clit against your own. flushed muscles quivering as whines of her name fall from your lips in a begging, pleading tone, but it doesn't seem to move shoko to helping you finish faster.

"don't be pathetic, pretty," shoko pants into your ear, her sleek dark hair falling over her face. and it's some satisfaction to know that she's just as affected, and that the low throb against your groin is her filthy release absolutely drenched over you, "i've barely even started."

everytime you felt as through your climax was in arm's reach, her touch would ice over, only to flood you with heat again, a cruel rhythm that left your head spinning.

"you look good like this, sweet thing," shoko murmurs, tilting her head as she straightens her spine, angling her hips so she can press herself to your sticky folders even more.

you whimper, and she laughs — even as your legs can't stop shaking and you feel too fucked-out in this bed of pleasure to even form a coherent thought. until all you can chase after is the fastening pace of her hips against yours, the sight of shoko dipping her fingers between your folds to sip at your arousal.

you're not even embarrassed at the utterly pornographic moans escaping your kiss-stung lips, sharp cries of shoko's name echoing through the infirmary as she soothes sharp circles over your clit, grinding her pussy against yours with your thighs intertwined.

"god, you taste so s-sweet," shoko bites off, dark eyes peering down at you, almost as though she's embarrassed that you've pulled these reactions from her.

wet cunts tacked to each other as she swipes a hand behind your back, pulling you up so she can hook her legs around your waist. jostling up n' down, over and over, and you catch the doctor's almost wolfish grin, she's guiding your hands beneath the fabric of her top, "c'mon, are you gonna' help me or not, baby?"

[madwomansapologist]

SHE JUST LEFT. WINK WINK.

cw: fluff, crack, established relationship.

ch: choso kamo, ino takuma, kento nanami, suguru geto, hajime kashimo, ijichi kiyotaka, satoru gojo, toji fushiguro.

all rights reserved to © madwomansapologist

[0bticeo]

thinking of being gojo's older sister, burdened with the six eyes and the weight of your clan's expectations. you're always, watching. always one step ahead, because you see things with the utmost clarity. of course, you plan accordingly. but sometimes? sometimes things go awry.

sometimes you watch your brother get sealed, prison realm heavy in not-geto's hand.

sometimes you watch sukuna possess fushiguro megumi.

sometimes you watch your brother die, cleaved in half.

so you go up to kashimo hajime, fingers digging into his arm in a vice grip, and hiss: "don't make me mourn you, too."

[selfishdoll]

Hi!! Can I request a NSFW alphabet for Kashimo?? Thanks❤️ take care of yourself ❤️❤️

NOW PLAYING…. SHE

Uh, and you touch yourself after hours

NSFW ALPHABET w/ KASHIMO HAJIME

cw: mature & suggestive themes, ooc kashimo (ofc), improper use of cursed technique, mdni, etc.

the way i was so excited for this 🤭🤭 like lowkey this is my first request. ty very much & i hope you enjoy it! <33

A ╲ AFTERCARE.

to put it bluntly, kashimo was not good at aftercare— at first. once you two were done he was jumping out of bed (or leaving you against some random surface he had pinned you against), leaving to go back to what he was doing previously. when you finally opened your mouth and explained you needed aftercare (especially given how rough he was), kashimo obliged, albeit begrudgingly. the next few times however, he’s come to enjoy it as much as you do; feeling light at the way you would smile each time he gently massaged you or picked you up. just seeing you content and safe with him soothed him.

B ╲ BODYPART.

kashimo hajime takes pride in his physique, and he should; given he’s spent many years honing his skills and body to become a great sorcerer. but to pick a favorite, it would have to be his arms. they’re reliable, strong enough to take down cursed spirits without as much as a sweat, and strong enough to lift and move you around how he pleases. even if you are a bigger girl, he doesn’t care— even gets a little offended if you think he’s gonna drop you. he’s always proved you wrong.

this one is easy. kashimo is definitely an ass man. i’m sorry, he is. the man claims he always walks behind you for safety but most of the time his eyes are trained on your ass. loves the way it feels his hands when he grabs it, or how you whine when he spanks you; he can’t get enough of it. and when he’s taking you from behind his eyes are trained on that exact spot, watching the way your cheeks shake with each thrust into you. it’s so erotic to him.

C ╲ CUM.

i like to think kashimo eats well given his form and stamina, so his cum wouldn’t taste bad at all. it’s not fruity or magical, or anything; but it isn’t something you don’t mind swallowing. it’s thick and a pearly white.

i’m sorry, i couldn’t go into detail because talking about this made me laugh.

D ╲ DIRTY SECRET.

now, the first time you ever asked kashimo to lightly electrocute you, he mocked you. lowkey called you a pervert and teased you heavily for it— but you ended up getting your wish. just a gentle shock every now and then to send you over the edge, watching your face change to the prettiest expression ever.

so, one day, the idea pops into his head. he could electrocute himself just to see what the fuss was about. it took a minute for kashimo to actually do it after the idea plagued his mind, given he found it a little embarrassing and weird.

but when he’s seated on your shared bed, legs open while fisting his cock with one hand— close to releasing, he does it. focusing on his sensitive tip and pushing himself over the edge. the sound that released from him was downright pornographic, tremors running through his body as he slowly recovered.

he’s only done that once. and no, he would never tell you about it.

E ╲ EXPERIENCE.

plenty experienced. he hasn’t had boat loads of sex with other people, but enough so he knows what he’s doing.

F ╲ FAVORITE POSITION.

anything that shows off his strength & allows him to see your face clearly. so definitely a mating press. he hates the way you cover your face from him, so this a sure fire way to make sure he sees everything.

full nelson is also a second favorite, with cowgirl being the third. of course, even if you’re on top he has all the control.

G ╲ GOOFY.

is not overly serious during sex. he’s not cracking jokes or anything, but he will smile at you — albeit mischievously — and chuckle if you say something he finds funny.

H ╲ HAIR.

first & foremost, the carpet matches the drapes. we were all wondering & i’m here to confirm it.

kashimo keeps himself tidied, not a lot of hair there for his own preference. his happy trail isn’t thick either, a soft tuft of cyan running down under his navel.

I ╲ INTIMACY.

kashimo can be sweet when he wants to be, when he thinks you deserve it. if you’ve been good he’s for calling you sweetheart or pretty girl, complimenting the way you look under him. lips never detaching himself from your own. if he knows you’re having a bad day, he will worship your body, taking care of you numerous times before he even pushes into you. ignores your pleads for his cock, declaring he needs to explore every inch of you and remind you how beautiful you are.

when you aren’t being good, well.. the sweetness is paired with degradation that would make any other girl cry.

J ╲ JACK OFF.

hajime doesn’t jack off a lot as he much rather get pleasure from you. the few times he does are when he’s away from you, yet his mind is still completely swarmed with you. your body, your voice, that one time you bent over infront of him in shorts. he gets frustrated though during it, annoyed he’s using his hand instead of your pretty mouth or pussy.

K ╲ KINK.

i like to think he has quite a few such as: breeding, dumbification, spanking, choking, & breath play. & no i will not be elaborating :)

L ╲ LOCATION.

kashimo is not picky about location. doesn’t care where you are, doesn’t care whose around— if he’s aroused, he’s pulling you to the nearest private spot and going to town. it’s exactly why you’re so careful when the two of you are in public, assuring you aren’t switching infront of him or leaning down near him.

but of course, all that carefulness doesn’t work.

M ╲ MOTIVATION.

simply you turn him on. you in a dress, you naked, you in pants, you cooking, you, you, you. the first thoughts he has are innocent enough until they delve deeper, relishing in the fact you are his and only his. that’s enough to turn him on, amazed at how lucky he got to get you.

but in special situations, you wearing anything that hugs your body. so he sees every curve, roll, everything.

N ╲ NO.

no sharing you. will never share you. it’s a hard no.

O ╲ ORAL.

before i even started writing for this man i labeled him as a munch, i mean— look at him?? will eat the pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if he could.

that’s not to say he doesn’t like you going down on him, kashimo loves it nearly as much as he loves eating you out. loves watching the way you choke on him, pretty lips wrapped around his cock while your tear filled eyes stare up at him. you looked so pretty to him, and he’ll tell you so— all while shoving himself deeper inside; tip hitting your poor throat.

P ╲ PACE.

most times kashimo fucks you fast and deeply, making you come within a manner of minutes. he’s in no rush, he just enjoys watching you come undone so easily from him.

when he’s being gentle and slow, it doesn’t last long given how needy you can be. something he loves but loves more to mock you on.

Q ╲ QUICKIE.

doesn’t mind them, but prefers to take his time with you or rather make you orgasm at least more than once. but, if he can get one in, he will.

R ╲ RISK.

depends on the risk. if it’s something that can hurt you badly, it’s a no. using his cursed technique is the only exception really. sure, you’re cute when crying but he would hate to hurt you badly.

now risk when it comes to public sex is something he doesn’t mind. mostly because, anyone that questions you or him better be able to beat him in a fight.

S ╲ STAMINA.

he’s a trained martial artist and an excellent jujutsu sorcerer— he could go on for hours if you left him.

T ╲ TOYS.

kashimo doesn’t own toys himself, you and his hand is enough for him. however, he doesn’t care if you use toys on yourself. not an insecure man, knows you’ll come crawling once the intimate objects are not enough.

the first time he catches you using a toy (it was a dildo), he plays up the jealous/annoyed lover act (you seeing through it instantly), ordering you to continue infront of him. all the while he softly teased and mocks you, asking if it was enough for you, did it fill you like he did? and when you finally come from it, you turn to him thinking he would touch you.

to your disappointment, kashimo left you there, a mess.

U ╲ UNFAIR.

a relentless teaser. all for denying you release or making you beg for it. loves watching you struggle to form words whether from how embarrassed you are or from how dumb he’s fucking you.

V ╲ VOLUME.

is not a loud man. when the two of you first got to together it was almost like fucking a serial killer. he wasn’t completely quite but grunts and moans were definitely kept to a minimum.

this changed however, when you informed him you liked to hear him. now he will stuff his face into your neck when he’s close, groaning right there against your ear.

W ╲ WILDCARD.

doubt there’s anything wilder then electrocuting himself.

X ╲ X-RAY.

typical martial artist physique; built and lanky with strong, large arms. muscular thighs with a (surprisingly) small waist.

moving on, the man is hung. a good 5-6 inches with a swollen tip and a thick base. loves to wear sweatpants around you because you are not good at hiding your glances to his crotch.

Y ╲ YEARNING.

his sex drive matches yours. if you want to fuck like bunnies, he’ll match that. if you want to fuck every other week, that’s fine too. he didn’t seek out a relationship with you only for sex and besides, kashimo has other things to do.

Z ╲ ZZZZ.

rarely does he go to sleep straight after sex. most of the time he’s not tired and will just sit there with you until you fall asleep. only then will he get up to do something whether to train or make you something to eat for when you wake up.

he never leaves for a mission while you’re asleep. much rather wait for you to wake up or wake you up himself.

[sayakasnonsense]

Braiding his hair <3

Storyline: how different men will react to you braiding their hair.

Content: fluffy hehe

Word from the author: Hair you go! (Do you get it? Like hair as in here? Im sorry this is so bad)

xoxo, sayaka.sy

those who love it secretly but will never tell you~

He lets out a deep sigh as he watches you crawl behind him, reaching your hands out to play with his long, silky hair. He watches in the mirror, hiding a blush as you weave braids and flowers and god knows what into it.

“…love… is this really necessary…?” He mumbles, worried about what people will think when he goes to work.

“Of course!” You reply, giggling as he heaves a big sigh.

He may not say it, but he absolutely loves the new hairstyle.

Neuvillette, Kamisato Ayato, Thoma, Geto Suguru, Diluc, Giyuu Tomioka, Yue, Kokushibo, Morax/Zhongli, Luocha, Blade, Sigma, Chuuya, Hajime Kashimo… your favourites.

And then there’s… those who will rave about how wonderful beautiful amazing it is to everyone and anyone~

“Woah! I look so nice!” The man yells as soon as you finish tying his hair. He then proceeds to parade around the house for 15 minutes straight, taking selfies and photos and posting them online.

“Calm down…” you murmur, giggling at how happy he looks.

At work, his coworkers have to tell him to shut up because the can’t concentrate with him raving and yelling like a madman about his hair.

Arataki Itto, Kaeya, Douma, Rengoku, Tengen, Jing Yuan, Kaeya, Cyno, Dazai, Baizhu, Choso, Theres more i cant think of them tho…