#hajime kashimo

[aynahcr]

𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 ᡣ𐭩.

Genre: Smut, Kashimo x gn!reader

Content Warning: handjob, blowjob (m! recieving), face fucking, edging, grumpy!Kashimo, cruel!reader (but not in a bad way), first time writing smut! Sorry for bad grammar :(

¡Minors Do Not Interact!

You never thought this would happened. Him, whining and grumbling while your hands are rubbing his length so slowly. A frown you see from his face has told you he doesn't like it. He hates being dominated extremely.

It wasn't easy having the God of Lightning in your hands. You took a plenty time thinking and planning how to get him down without being switched or getting fucked by this mad man. He did you good, can't reject it. But sometimes he did make you feel so stupid like you never had a thought at all. So, here's a karma. Having him being tied down like an X on a shared bed with no clothes. Such a cruel you letting the cold air touches his bare skin.

"God, baby..." He lets out a whisper with his eyes keeping on you and your hands, begging you to go faster and stop this painful pleasure. You can't see his face, but you know what he wants you to do just from hearing his voice.

"You must use your words, baby. Whining isn't gonna help." You say the words he usually uses when he teased you. The man then growls hopelessly as you chuckle. Your fingertips tap his tip before your lips were lowered down to give a gentle kiss on it. This makes him flinched slightly. My, he looks so adorable. His face already went red and he sweats all over his naked body like he's oiled up.

"Love... Why did you do this t'me... What did I do t'you?" He asks with a pant, hoping you to answer but he hears nothing. He even tried to move himself just to be failed at it. He doesn't know if he could take this pressure for a little longer.

"It's not funny, love! Tell me why you did this!" Nah, clearly that he couldn't. He begins to shout an order to you. It sounds scary at first before changing to be shaken. His precum's leaking on his tip while your hands still do their pleasure torture job with no stopping.

"Babe!" He calls you, following with your name after. But you remain calmed, not letting his demands win this fight. A sight of this version of you makes him confused. So, so confused. He's never seen this you before and he quite doesn't like it.

Or maybe he does, but just doesn't admit it yet.

As you don't seem to go faster even though how many times he's ordered you. This man finally gives up, lowers his ego down a bit as he begins to please.

"Babe, go faster please. It's closer now, please go faster..." He pleas, it's certainly a plea that he lets out from his lips. You heard it so clear, even your eyes go widened. You've never believed you'd hear this man's plea, but it's happening now.

"I beg you, my love... I'm 'bout to cum, 'bout to cum..." His head goes back to the pillow while his chest raises up and down. You think he meant it, he's really about to cum. You then look up at the ceiling, thinking if you should follow his begging or not. In your heart, you don't like seeing him dissatisfied. It causes a hole in your chest somehow. But the other thought inside your mind is opposite, make him whine and beg for more, it said.

You reply as a hum first, "Hm... alright. but can you wait a lil' longer, lightning? Just two minutes." The corner of your lips were raised up with your eyes shut. A soft smile was sent to him, but he receives it as a cruel grin. This isn't like he's thought. No way.

"Nah nah I can't. Babe, please." He shakes his head two times lazily. "I'll do you good after, so please hear my beg."

"You can't even wait and why should I hear you?" You reply before releasing his cock from your palms as your eyes keep straightening on him. Then you sigh out. "So disappointed. Thought you'll be a good boy for me."

"I'm not a boy!" He immediately protests you with his head leaving the pillow. He's frowning at you, wondered why you stopped, also he doesn't look pleased when you used that word to call him. What an egoistic man he is.

"Then you aren't a man either." You say. "Real man can wait, don't you agree with that? If you can't, you're not a real man."

Hajime Kashimo, your beloved boyfriend is now stopped begging. His brain begins to process about your sentences and his self-esteem starts to get on its work. From your observation, this man believes in a way of the real man they called, like 'Real man shouldn't cry.' or maybe like 'Real man should take a lead.' for an example. So, this trick of yours might be work.

You try to guess a hint on his pouty face. He stills silent as he's fighting with himself inside his head. Just like the first paragraph said. This man hates being dominated, but he also hates to wait as well. But again. If he couldn't wait, he's not a real man like you've said.

When you realise that the room of yours covers with silence for too long, you decide to be the one who breaks this strangely awkward situation.

"I know you can wait, my lightning. Just two minutes and I promise I'll give you a reward." You coo as your hand gently wraps around his length, causing him letting out a short mewling and it blessed your ears so nicely. Your man nods lamely without any dissent, but it isn't enough. You want to hear a word.

"Baby."

"Yeah, I'll wait. I'll wait..." He replies your short call. The corner of your lips then hoist up seeing him in good behaviour. You begin your rhythms with a slow movement of your hand around his long dick. His lower lip slowly separates from his upper lip as a soft moans come out. You barely heard his moans from your experience with him, so your eyes quickly peak up to look at his expression. Oh, lord. His pretty eyes have no focus on you but on the ceiling, wishing you to go faster soon.

"God, Hajime. You're so fucking desperate and I love it." You breathe while you hand's starting to go faster as he wished for. "My lightning just wanna reach the climax so bad."

You could see his body reflecting your hand's movement by jerking. Both of his face and his bare chest are all covered with red like a garnet's colour. He can't shut his mouth now loosing all his moans and whimper out shamelessly.

"Aw, poor Hajime barely get touched and already began to cum." You mock him, but your mock somehow turns him on even more and you knew it. Because it used to happen to you as well when he did the same.

With a need to make him go feral, his cock was suddenly taken inside your warm mouth before you begin accelerating. The brief action of yours did take him to the haven's gate. The man growls as he bucks his hips up and down, fucking your face senseless even though he's underneath you.

"Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck, fuck—!" He curses with pleasure.

"Gonna cum, gonna cum...!" He desperately whimpers out while he's wishing if his hands weren't tied so he could grip your head stills and fuck your face better.

You widen your eyes, feeling unbelievable with his hip's skills. You did tie his hands and legs down but it looks like it has no effect on him at all.

With a final thrust, he explodes his cum all inside your mouth along with his erotic moans and shaking body. This move of him almost had you choke but gladly that you didn't.

You pull him out from your mouth before wiping all messed stuff from your lower face. Then your eyes take a look at your man. He's such a pathetic in the sight, noticing from the way his cyan orbs went back to the skull and his lower lip hanging down. So cute, so adorable.

"That's my man." You praise him as your tongue swirls on his tip, offering to clean him up.

"Baby," Hajime lets out a shaken breath while staring at you like a puppy staring at its owner, waiting for a treat.

"Yes, sweetheart." You say, before you place your quick kiss on his lips. The man's disappointed a bit as he thought you would give him a long deep kiss.

"I've promised you to give you a reward."

Finished your sentence, you begin to think about which rewards you should give him. First option is giving him freedoms, second is riding him dried.

Well, whatever you choose. I think he'll enjoy your choice anyway.

｡𖦹˚.🪼₊ ๋࣭ ⭑

¡English is not my first language!

Art by: @_JulyWj on Twitter!

[echosage]

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა ₊˚✧JUJUTSU KAISEN LINKS PT.4 (FINALLY) !!

MDNI !! | CW : P in v, BDSM, fingering, riding, public sex, spanking, brat taming, GOGOGOGO. Overall smut smh. (This post finally includes black reader for someones request! Hope you like it!)

A/N : It's been a year daddy...... I really really missed u. OMG 😭 pls don't kill me ik i said i was posting this like three months ago, but i just got disconnected from reality or some shit like that, i'm so sorry pookies 😭😭😭

₊˚✧ Todo Aoi !!

Something quick before you shower.

Todo fingering you because you just ask too nicely.

Uh-oh, he gets obsessed with fingering you.

Size kink with Todo.

Todo's dream was to see you dressed up as one of Takada Chan's outfits, so you comply, and he's REALLY excited.

You just are enchanted with his size, so you get so sloppy when you suck him off.

₊˚✧ Naoya Zenin !!

Naoya taking you in the living room of the Zenin estate.

Preparing you to take him even inside of your tiniest holes.

Taming you, because you had starting to reveal against him.

Naoya using you like a ragdoll.

How your dates with Naoya always end.

He needed to fuck you one last time before he dropped you off at your parents house.

₊˚✧ Kashimo Hajime !!

Taking you from behind before your husband gets home.

Morning sex with Hajime.

Riding him, and he swears you are a siren at how you hipnotize him everytime you do it.

BDSM with Hajime.

Secret to no one: Hajime it's really big.

FWB Hajime.

Kashimo eating you out as you deserve to.

[selfishdoll]

NOW PLAYING…. TOUCH

Just back into it, and let it touch

JJK MEN & THEIR REACTIONS TO YOU USING THEIR CROTCH TO SHOW OFF YOUR NAILS

ft. kashimo hajime, gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, & takuma ino.

cw: modern au (?), suggestive content (ofc) ooc characters(?), reader being a little shit, etc.

i’ve always found this tiktok trend adorable, and thought it would be nice to write hcs on with them. these are unedited so excuse typos and other mistakes. i might do more later.

KASHIMO HAJIME.

the nail designs you chose were cute, but a little cheesy. a simple cyan base with purple lighting bolts on each ring finger.

you came back from the shop to spot kashimo resting on your couch, clearly tired from either fighting a curse or general working out. you tapped him, showcasing your nails the moment you got his attention. hajime would only give you a small smirk, leaning his head back again to rest.

the idea would then pop into your head, softly declaring you needed to take a picture to show your friend. he didn’t care enough to respond.

but, that quickly changed when you sat beside him, resting your hand right on his crotch.

what are you doing?

you shushed him a bit, declaring his white pants were a perfect background. a plausible excuse, one that he believed less and less when he realized you were massaging him through his pants.

he allowed it to go on for a moment before he snatched your wrist, pulling you closer to him.

don’t start something you can’t finish, [y/n].

and well, you spent the rest of that evening facing the consequences of your actions. you never did send that picture.

GOJO SATORU.

probably asked you to get his tip color. you refused, much to his dismay.

you settled on a pretty blue and white design, curtesy of his eyes and hair. you sent a picture of it to him while in the shop; your lover hearting the image instantly.

on the way home, you were scrolling through your tiktok feed and came across the trend. a cheshire like grin covered your features soon after.

making it home, gojo wasn’t busy with anything, simply sitting on the couch and watching some random show. he greeted you and attempted to get touchy, only for you to declare you had to take a picture of your nails first.

just use the one you sent me?

no, baby, i wanna use a different one.

although confused, the man shrugged a bit, focus turning back to the tv. you sat on the couch beside him, humming as your phone hovered above your hand that rested on your thigh. taking a quick glance to assure he wasn’t looking, you reached over, placing your hand right on his crotch.

gojo noticed you instantly, eyes falling from the tv screen and over to your hand, eyebrows pinched close. he said nothing however, simply watching you closely. the moment you began to rub him, however, he was adjusting his hips eyes lifting to yours, adoring an are you serious? expression.

what’s wrong? you tried to play dumb, all while your hand still moved, not so secretly anymore. gojo would only grin at you, pretty dimples exposed, turning back to the tv.

nothing.

in that moment his hand reached over to your bare thigh, gently tapping it; fingers stroking the inside of them.

this had now became a game of who would crack first.

and much to your dismay, you always did.

GETO SUGURU.

your choice of design was a black base with his initials on each ring finger. when sending a picture to the man he complimented them, and was clearly happy his name was on your fingers.

you had been planning to do the trend on him the moment you saw it, booking an appointment the next day. you just wanted to see his reaction, to see if your normally calm and collected boyfriend would react differently.

you were basically rushing into the house the moment you locked your car, entering to spot him on the couch reading a book. you two greeted each other with a soft kiss the moment you walked over.

you really like my nails, suguru?

mhm.

lemme show gojo. you hummed, pulling your phone from your pocket. you bit the inside of your cheek, reaching over and planting your hand right on his crotch. you felt his eyes on you for a moment before they drifted back to his book. which, frustrated you.

and so, you adjusted your hand, a false mumble of needing a better angle exiting you. except the adjusting didn’t stop, seeing as you began to gradually rub your palm up and down his crotch.

you jumped a bit as he shut his book closed, grabbing your wrist and pushing it against his hardening length even more.

now, you deal with it? understand?

NANAMI KENTO.

much to nanami’s embarrassment, you used his tip color. he tried to talk you out of it, but it happened. how they color matched it was above him. and why you did such a thing was above him as well. but, he did have to admit the nails were still pretty.

when you got home the man was busy with some paperwork at his desk, grumbling to himself every once in a while. you walked over with a gentle smile, watching his tense shoulders fall the moment you made your presence known.

you then showed off your nails, nanami simply shaking his head with a smile.

you got a bit needy the moment his eyes turned back to his desk however, biting the inside of your cheek before a brilliant idea popped into your mind. you find a chair beside his desk, scooting a bit close to his own. which wasn’t suspicious, you did that often.

what was suspicious was you reaching over, placing your hand onto his crotch.

[y/n]…

just trynna get a good picture. your pants are the perfect color. the excuse left you quickly, hearing the man sigh softly to himself but allowing your hand to remain there.

that was until, you began to carefully slide your hand up and down his crotch— back and forth. nanami didn’t left it go on for long before he was grabbing you by the forearm, pulling you up from your chair and over to his lap.

oh, ken, your paperwork..

that can wait. can’t ignore you when you’re being so damn needy..

TAKUMA INO.

to ino’s surprise, you somehow got your nail lady to carefully draw his masked face on your ring finger. the moment you sent the picture he was amazed and very happy. something you found adorable.

so of course you decided to toy with him.

coming home you spotted the man not really doing anything, simply resting on the couch. he smiled up at you, eyes following you as you walked over to sit beside him. his arm came to wrap around you, the two of you sitting in silence for a moment; simply watching tv.

until you swore softly, pulling your phone from your pocket. gotta take a picture for a friend.. you would mumble, something ino barely acknowledged.

the moment your hand was on his crotch, however, his eyes fell from the tv quickly, staring down at your hand.

uh, y/n…

sorry baby, just gotta use your pants. you claimed, the man muttering nervous ok, going completely still— clearly not wanting to mess up your photo. you smiled at this, nearly feeling bad for what you were about to do to him.

slowly you carried your palm up and down his crotch, feeling the hand on your hip twitch. continuing the facade, you tilted your phone every so often, attempting to find the correct position; all while poor ino attempted to calm his rising hard on. he tried so hard too.

just as you felt his hard length through his sweats, you snapped a photo, rising from the couch— placing a chaste kiss to his cheek on the way.

thanks baby, imma take a quick shower.

needless to say, ino was a bit confused and disappointed, only able to give you a small nod— watching you walk away. ignorant to the fact you were holding in your laughter.

[thejessc0de]

a self-indulgent take on Kashimo's CT

[itboyitadori]

twitter's reactions to jjk 238;

[yotume]

[abiding-artist]

DO NOT REPOST

-

Whole lot of Zenins

-

More jjk doodles because they’re so squishy.

[moechies]

kashimo nsfw <;3

imagine a punishment with kashimo but he’s jus holding you down and jerkin off over your cunt the whole time :(

he would have both ur thighs held down with his hand against ur chest, nd he would be so mean about it too.. looking at your sticky pussy and listening to your begs and cries but not engaging or looking at ur face at all</3

he notices the way you try to hold his hand, and he jus moves it away, hearing you whine out his name and watching your arm fall down on the bed in defeat.

when hes about to cum, his breath starts to labor and he humps into the air, and just when you think he’s about to entertain you, he barely sticks the tip of his cock into your cunt and cums inside with a few small thrusts. he pulls out just to bend over to make out with your leaking pussy, and giving you a kiss on the clit,

“pretty fuckin cumdump..”

he says, before finally lookin up at your flushed face to see you looking back, he smiles and whispers a “hi baby.”

[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.

masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

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.

[nkogneatho]

kashimo is js so pretty,,, pasi im dying here wtf was gege thinking when he drew him,,, he js fits the slut description,,, i js wanna edge him til he cries n call him my pretty boy RESTRAIN ME

𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐎 𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐉𝐎𝐁

kashimo hadn't felt touch of a woman in centuries. he missed it. he was the slut of his era. and going from getting your dick milked everyday to forgetting what that feels like wasn't easy. but now when you had your hand wrapped around his long and pretty dick, he couldn't help but bite his bottom lip, fidgeting at the feeling of your fingers toying with the cockhead. it was so pretty. it had a peach pink to light brown gradient. hos cock wasn't veiny but the outer skin layer was so soft and thin that you could see how some hint of the purple and green veins underneath. you were so eager to put him in your mouth but you wanted to test him. his precum was alone so much that it wet your hand giving you easy accessibility to stroke his cock, and you didn't need to spit on it.

"ngh—unh unh unh! yes, keep doing that."

he was so desperate, not even ashamed to moan and whimper and you were enjoying it.

"need to release myself, pretty woman. please—ah! yes. can you—mmh go faster," but to his surprise, you slowed down. and he was so frustrated, but what's he gonna do?? you had him wrapped around your fingers. literally.

you increased the pace of your hands when he expected it the least. it was making such a filthy sound but god did it sound like music mized with him desperate moans.

"uhm! yesyesyesyesyes aaahh!!"

he came so hard, your hand was drenched in his release. this is what happens when you're not touched for 400 years. but that won't be a problem for him now since you are here. he's not gonna let someone like you go so easily. he wasn't hungry but you happen to be the prey that willingly walked in his territory

[riseofamoonycake]

Hi! I would like to read something about female!reader sending nudes or photos in bath suit to her s/o.

Free choice on the characters, but I don't follow ror or bsd, so if you can don't choose these fandoms.

Ok! Since you didn't specify anything, I chose some interesting babe from a fandom I accept and made some hcs eheheh... and thank you *^* I had a very pleasant time while writing it!

Reacting to you willingly sending them a nude (or a photo in bathing suit)

Featuring: some of my favorite men in JJK

Choso, Kashimo Hajime, Higuruma Hiromi x fem!reader

Choso

As soon as Choso sees the notification of your message, he doesn't think twice and opens it immediately, innocently, even smiling: so, out of the blue, this poor boy finds himself in front of a photo of your body thight in a skimpy swimsuit, which leaves very little to the imagination and yet covers what it needs to cover.

Choso stares at the screen for a split second, just long enough to realize what he is looking at, then turns completely red and has to take his eyes away to focus on something else, whatever it is, while shaking all over and starting to sweat profusely. You hit him, you knocked him out: congratulations, you killed Choso. After this experience, he will never be the same as before.

The blush accompanies him for the rest of the day, as well as what he saw: there is no possibility of making him forget the vision of your breasts wrapped in that miserable flap of fabric, of your plush thighs, of all that exposed skin and only for him… and as soon as Choso sees you again, it gets worse, because he can't even speak and you have to be the one to come closer, take his face in your hands and squeeze his cheeks, and hug his neck while you ask him if everything okay, chuckling as I notice his usual paleness softened by a nice bright red.

"Did you have to do it? What is it, a new form of punishment?", he whispers to you in a faint voice, without the courage to look at your face or touch you; and for the rest of the day he will be on another world. Poor puppy, let him breathe and recover a little; afterwards you will have a lot to talk about…

… And in any case, the photo was more than welcome.

Kashimo Hajime

"Aaaahhh, what a naughty girl…"

Without hiding an amused and excited smile at the same time, Kashimo continues to observe the photo you sent him, observing every detail of that body fully enhanced by the costume you are wearing and barely hidden by the sarong that you - stupidly - decided to put around your waist, so he carefully saves the photo, closes his cell phone and shakes his head, placing that vision in a safe corner of his mind and continuing to do what he had to do: whether he was in the midst of combat or engaged in a simple errand, the pleasure only comes in following duty, otherwise it cannot be fully exalted. Every now and then the photo comes back to him, as it should, but he manages to keep it at bay and not let it interfere with his duties; but when the god of lightning has completed all his commitments and can dedicate himself only to his beautiful partner… it is better for you to start running away.

It is really necessary for you to find a safe haven, because wherever he is, it takes Kashimo just a few minutes to reach you and appear in front of you, his eyes wide with excitement and the most perverse grin you have ever seen crossing his face. Electric shocks crackle around him, aiming in your direction like hissing snakes, almost enveloping you as his arms tighten around your back with energy.

"There she is, the little brat! What did you think you were doing by sending me that photo, hmmm? And why have you already got dressed?"

Well, I told you to escape: now, enjoy as much as possible Kashimo's hot hands that grab and squeeze you, tearing everything you are wearing to caress and pinch the flesh underneath, while his mouth it closes around the neck and bites it with the same hunger as a wolf, carving its mark on your throat, or it seeks the warmth of already dripping folds into which to insert that long and already darting tongue…

Higuruma Hiromi

Your photo arrives just at the most suitable time of the day, when there is total chaos in the law firm, and Higuruma opens the message almost by chance, as if to seek salvation and a bit of calm in your words.

And words are not at all.

The man's breathing is the only thing that changes in him, because his face remains impassive: however, his mind goes blank for an instant while the image of your naked body comes to occupy the entire screen and pushes away practices, tasks and deadlines with the force of a kiss, and he no longer hears anything or responds to anyone.

After entire minutes of silence and immobility, only a: "… Oh?" soft as a caress leaves his lips as he continues to stare at the screen and everyone believes that he is simply enchanted reading something, even if his eyes remain fixed and no one dares to come closer to check what is happening; and in the end the lawyer takes a weak sigh, closes his cell phone and goes back to his work as if nothing had happened, even if his day has completely changed.

His serious expression doesn't change even when he comes home and sees you, and initially he doesn't reply to your smile; then, just before you can say anything, he steps in front of you and stares straight into your eyes. “So, about what you sent me today…” A pause. "Show me the proof of what you say."

You laugh, already knowing where he is going with this; a matter of a few moments, before he grabs your face and gives you an intense kiss, one hand tightening around your hair to gently pull it and the other already undressing you, while he presses his chest against yours until he pushes you against the wall. You smile as you say goodbye to your clothes and underwear, because nothing can stop Hiromi until you are completely naked, just covered by that veil of light coming from the chandelier; and he can grab your hips and dig his nails into them while he lifts and holds you pressed against the wall with his own body, undressing himself just enough to allow you to caress him and him to take you in place and find relief in your soft arms.

Your excited gaze and bated breath push him to start to destroy you slowly but firmly, savoring your every moan and tremble, staring at you while you throw your head back and expose the throat to everything he wants to do to it. You richly deserved it, with your beautiful photo; just as you also deserved the long spanking session that will fall on your sweet buttocks as soon as Higuruma has tamed you well and then his gavel will find a fun use on you for the whole night…

[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.

[selfishdoll]

NOW PLAYING…. LOVE BELT

Hold me, hold me, hold me

FLUFFY SLEEP HCS

ft. kashimo hajime, gojo satoru, nanami kento, takuma ino, & shoko ieiri

cw. none? domestic, fluffy, ooc characters.

needed something cute and fluffy to combat these new leaks 😭

KASHIMO HAJIME.

refuses to go to sleep before you. when he’s ready to get into bed, you better be too. ( this is a joke, of course he wouldn’t force you to sleep at the same time as him. but.. he will follow you like a lost puppy until you’re ready to go to sleep. i’ll be right there, you can sleep haji. i’m fine, i’m not tired. )

like said in a previous drabble, his arm is always around you. he’s not gently touching you, not a hand on you, it’s an arm. tight around your waist, your back pulled into his front. your body is always facing away from the door, and there are times he will even cover you in his sleep. not to smother you, it’s a safety thing for him.

he’s a jujutsu sorcerer and no matter if you’re strong or not, he cares for you. more then he hoped for. so the second you move in your sleep whether on purpose or not, his eyes are opening and surveying your bedroom— assuring no danger is present.

prefers to remain clothed in sweats and a tshirt so he’s always warm. will remove his shirt if he need be, but most times he’s clothed.

gets up before you, but only gets out of bed when you do. until then he’ll just look around the room, plan his day in his head, and look at you. he has to refrain from kissing or touching your face, since he would hate to wake you up.

will urge you to get out of bed when it’s time, hajime just isn’t a lazy person, so he would hate for you to be. but if you wish to stay in bed, he’s sighing softly but remaining next to you, still holding you.

GOJO SATORU.

feel like he hogs the blanket.

kidding. he would never do such a thing.. maybe.

anyway, satoru is a little similar to hajime when it comes to sleeping with you. except, much more outspoken about it. when he just wants to take a quick nap he’ll go to the room (or somewhere else) by himself. but when it’s time to shut down for the day, he’s asking you to come to the room with him.

grabbing you gently, kissing your skin, urging you sweetly. he’s needy, like he can’t sleep properly without you by his side. as annoying as it seems, it’s cute to you.

when you finally give in you usually don’t go to sleep automatically. either reading a book or watching something. that’s fine, given he’ll come close, wrapping his arms around your waist. or pulling you to lay against his chest.

against his chest, you’ll hear his steady heartbeat, his breaths, the way they get just a bit deeper as time passes on. your fingers will intertwine, the man gently squeezing your smaller ones every so often.

you’ll speak about random things, hearing him give some hums because even if he isn’t completely listening, he wants you to know he cares.

did you hear me, satoru?

mhm. i heard you. knowing he’s blinking in and out of sleep.

soon enough you’ll hear his soft snores, looking back to see his head pressed into his pillow, arm lazily across your body.

it only takes moments before you shut the tv off, switch off the bedside lamp, and curl up into his arms, falling asleep too.

NANAMI KENTO.

nanami is different then satoru and hajime, as you’re the one that’s normally urging him to bed. he’s a stressed man whether when he’s a salaryman or a sorcerer, he has responsibilities to tend to. and as much as he hates working overtime, it usually ends up that way.

come on to bed, nanami.

i’ll be right there, i promise.

will smile at the way you hang on to him, attempting to wrap your blanket around him as well— as if seducing him to sleep. he’s gotten used to your tricks, simply patting your hand while his attention remained on the task at hand.

soon your legs would get tired, walking around his chair and taking a seat on his lap. you’ll lay on him, eyes closed and simply relishing in his presence. he allows you, sacrificing an arm to wrap around you to assure you don’t slide off.

an hour or so would pass, your soft snores entering his ear as he blinked tiredly. he was finally done. finally. his arms wrapped around you, securing you before standing up, walking out of the office with you in his arms.

once in the bedroom he places you onto your bed, shedding himself of his clothes to simply reside in his boxers. with a heavy sigh he’s crawling into bed, smiling when he feels you move closer to him. his arm wraps around your body, tugging you to his side.

most times nanami adapts to your sleeping habits. if you’re on your side he’s curled up behind you hand on your stomach, if you’re on your stomach he’s on his back, allowing you to sleep on his chest.

another one that likes to touch when he sleeps. prefers it actually. you’re his peace and he can’t sleep without that.

TAKUMA INO.

definitely a blanket hogger. the moment you mention it in the morning he’s apologizing with the silliest look on his face. he doesn’t do it on purpose.

ino is the kind that doesn’t really mind not sleeping together. sure, he’d want to, but he knows you two have different ideas of sleep schedules. he probably goes to sleep before you, dressed in some sweats and a shirt.

but the moment you come into bed, he’s waking up to cuddle you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his face into your breasts.

can you breathe, ino?

mhm...

i can literally hear you struggling.

the two of you probably move around a lot in your sleep, kicking each other, you spooning him, it’s a surprise how the two of you end up in the morning.

ino probably needs to be woken up since he ignores his alarms.

SHOKO IEIRI.

its pretty rare the two of you fall asleep at the same time or together at all. she works the night shift and is busy in general. sometimes when you are waking up, she’s going to bed. and not for long either.

on those special days you two can sleep together, shoko doesn’t really care what positions you two are in. she just wants to sleep.

will allow you to curl up at her side, hug her from behind, doesn’t matter as long as you are still and quiet.

sometimes if you’re still up she’ll lay her head in your lap, allowing you to stroke her hair and lull her to sleep.

unfortunately, these tender moments are interrupted if she’s on call.

[itboyitadori]

twitter's reactions to jjk 238;

(pt 1). (pt 3)

bonus!

[yotume]

Year of the Dragon🐉

[arinavah]

trying to make a friend…..