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c-0-rr-x · 2 months

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Calamus et Gladius

Stolen from a foreign army to participate in the Culling Game, speaking little to no Japanese with just a rifle for self-defence, the reader partakes in a bittersweet dance of death and love, with Higuruma Hiromi.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, enemies to lovers, murder, use of firearms, the desperate smut of two traumatised people who fall hopelessly in love.

This is long, but I make no apologies, because the payoff is worth it.

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You were used to violence. You were used to senseless bloodshed. Used to rains of bullets, flinging shrapnel, your ears ringing with explosions and screams.

Yet, it was your own screams that rang through you, as an enormous gavel split the earth where you had just stood.

Your entire unit was dead, almost fifty men and women lured into Tokyo Colony One, and you scrabbled back on grazed hands, kicking feet, as this ink-haired monster stepped slowly through the rubble and gore, black eyes fixed on you with the rage and fervour of a justified killer.

He appeared to hesitate only briefly as your face crumpled up at him in tearful rage and despair, desperation. You did not move to grab the rifle on your back; a threat of retaliation would be your downfall.

Despite being the only one of your unit who had had something new, something alien awakened within them, you had developed no fantastical technique. You had no mystical weapon. You had no roiling blue flames engulfing your fists. You had only the ability to sense others like you, and the horrifying stop-motion beasts that now sullied your sight. It was enough, at least, to hide.

"Please-- please--" you begged, the last attempt of a cornered woman. Your back pressed against the wall, the wide street around you a no-man's land of rubble, overturned cars and bloody splatters. The man's hand tightened on his gavel, his other raising to swipe flicks of black fringe off his forehead. He frowned, stopping. You noticed his distinctive hooked nose, crinkling in disgust.

"English," he offered, thickly accented, neither a question or a statement. You gulped, nodding with urgency, any dialogue an opportunity to re-establish his humanity.

"Innocent," you insisted, hands raised in front of you, disarming, "I'm innocent." That word, the man seemed to recognise, and he blew air through his nose, snorting in mirth.

"Innocent?" He asked, sarcastic.

He knelt down in front of you, his eyes still offering no mercy, but he spoke to you so conversationally. He reached one long finger out, tapping the rifle on your back, coming back round to stroke you teasingly along the side of your cheek, holding it so tenderly. His words washed over you, meaningless, until you caught one you could understand as he stood up.

"...sorry." His arm raised, the head of the gavel blocking out the sun, and you took your chance.

Your hand darted, and you flung a handful of brick dust into his eyes as he spat, staggered, cursing. You brought the butt of your rifle round to slam into the side of his head, and although he barely faltered, you ran for your life, darting down alleys, your heart bursting in your ears.

You heard no footsteps chasing you. He could have...but he didn't.

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Just one easy kill.

The others had all gone down so hard, Hiromi thought, stepping into his swing, barely missing the foreign woman, the gavel making a buckled crater in the tarmac instead. Hiromi tsked, annoyed, kissing his teeth. Watching her squirm on the floor to save her life, a worm from a bird, Hiromi's gut churned-- ugly.

Murder was so easy. The power to beat scum at their own game was intoxicating. Hiromi stepped after her, so far removed from his old self. His usual self? He wasn't sure.

His keen eyes built the woman's character, hawkish and unforgiving. Young...naive. Soldier...killer. No Japanese...lazy. Pleading...pathetic. Not fighting...coward. By the time she began to beg Hiromi, she was already barely human in his eyes. Swiping his hair upwards, and tightening his grip for the deathblow, he spat, "English."

She caught his eye, and Hiromi felt the barest seed of guilt in the back of his mind, an itch he could not scratch. She had nodded at him, tears brimming in her eyes, hands raised in placation.

"Innocent," the woman had insisted, "...innocent." Bile rose in Hiromi's throat at the familiar word, and the audacity she had to use it for herself, as if she wasn't rolling in the same pigshit as the rest of them. Hiromi's lip curled, smirking as he rubbed his nose with the side of one long finger.

"Innocent?" He stabbed. Hiromi knelt, talking at you as if you understood.

"What's that? You're the good guy, are you?" He mocked, reaching out to tap the rifle on your back, feeling you flinch beneath him, "Is it this, that makes you innocent, hmm?" He brought his hand to your cheek, stroking it with the blade of his finger, swiping away the tears that had cut a track through the dust and grime, "Or this pretty face, hmmm? Are those big, teary eyes what make you innocent? Don't make me laugh. You're scum, just like the rest of us. And natural law is at play here." He cupped your cheek once, squeezing it with the barest of sincerities in his apology as he stood.

"Sorry," Hiromi offered, lifting his gavel and feeling power churn through him, just and righteous as your executioner.

Hiromi cursed as he felt a spray of grit flung into his face, immediately disarmed by the sordid pain of sand in his eyes, further disorientated by the ear-ringing slam of something into the side of his head. He staggered, faltering.

"Oooh, you piece of shit," Hiromi cooed, vicious, spitting with venom, vision completely obscured as he tried in vain to clear his eyes. He felt you disappear, and he leaned against the wall, laughing despite himself at having been bested. He smiled, the barest tinge of admiration for your tenacity threading through him.

"Alright," Hiromi sniffed, rubbing his nose again as his vision began to clear, "catch you later, I suppose."

Hiromi tried to forget you. He tried to forget his humanity, but each life he took made him sicker, infected by this game.

Every time he closed his eyes, to sleep in some strange home-less, love-less bed, your eyes met his, impeaching him.

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Resources soon ran thin, for one who held no territory. You had your army pack, and rationed out your meagre foodstuffs, always hungry, always on-edge. You had never fought alone, in war.

You had managed to develop quite the skill at hiding, and concealed yourself, cloaked in plain sight, from even the most powerful of those left in the game. Every day that the stragglers were picked off, the stakes ran higher. Every explosive battle you ran from, dodging the falling debris thrown by titans, you felt your inherent value as an easy kill increasing.

You thought of the hook-nosed man who had let you go. Despite his willingness to kill you, you craved human contact, and found warmth in the memory of the heat of his gaze, his hand on your face, desperately trying to translate the words he had spoken to you as he caressed your cheek.

One dewy dawn, you had taken position on a sheltered rooftop, giving you equal measures concealment and oversight. With your rifle drawn, flat on your belly, you felt the ebbs and wanes of a familiar power draw closer. Curiously, it made your belly clench, eager to see the man who could have chased you, but didn't. You were itching to know why. Itching to behold him again.

Your heart leapt as he stepped into the street, at least four stories below you. Even from this distance, you could see the intensity of his furrowed brow, the noble bearing of his shoulders beneath a great black overcoat. His tie hung, dishevelled, loose-knotted. He was hunting.

He paused, tiptoed on a breath...before rolling, gracefully dodging as a knife of Cursed energy ricocheted through the street, splitting it. You gasped, your eye moving away from your rifle lens, watching in awe as he took to battle with another man. While he seemed to hold his own, he appeared distracted, and was buffeted, winded by an almighty hit, knocked onto his back, elbows on the ground.

A strange panic overtook you as your hook-nosed man's assailant bore down on him, power surging, preparing to murder--

-- a gunshot. A brittle, echoing bang. The assailant's head snapped forwards, and he fell, killed instantly, face first on the ground in front of your hook-nosed man.

He panted, his face sprayed with blood. With a few owlish blinks, his eyes tracked upwards. You held your breath, adrenaline coursing through you. As the man stood, eyes fixed on you (in rage? murderous intent? thanks?), you jolted to life and took aim on him.

He did not raise his hands. There was no standoff, as he made no move to save his own life. In the moment that he accepted his death for the attempt he had made on yours, something in you both softened, seeing each other as you saw no others. A gentle impasse. The intimacy of differentiation.

It took everything you had in you to break eye contact, and run.

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Hiromi mulled beneath the shaky warning of your rifle.

You were afraid, he thought as he gazed up at you, so sickeningly grateful for having been chosen by you. The mist of his opponent's blood drifting through the sunrise, picked Hiromi out as somehow preferable, in your mind.

And, why should you not be afraid? He saw you beneath him, again, your eyes soft and begging him for mercy. You had been defenceless and entirely in his palm. He had been relieved, he recalled, that he could kill someone easily. The begging made you passive. Hiromi could have vomitted, sickened by himself.

He stood, arms raised slightly to his sides, his profile illuminated by sweet morning sun, waiting for death to take his hand.

Hiromi felt embraced by your eyes. Wanted. Some companionship, in death...until you refused him his end. The red string between you both seemed to snap as you broke eye contact and ran.

Alone, as the sun broke above the skyline, Hiromi whispered; "Thank you."

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There was no way out. Starving and desperate, days had passed since you had saved your hook-nosed man, and you had crept through haunted streets to a convenience store, unusually well-stocked with food and drink.

You bit your tongue for your own stupidity at having walked into such an obvious trap. No amount of being able to hide one's Cursed energy could compensate for being seen walking into the shop. Crouching now, behind shelves of ramen, tears trembled on your lashes, an aching lump in your throat.

You heard a mocking voice, cooing at you, laughing at you, and you blushed with indignant tearful injustice, not needing language to know when you were being assaulted for your sex. You were afraid of death. You were more afraid of being used beforehand.

With nowhere to hide, and no grit to throw, you tipped your head back and thought of those black embering eyes, holding you in his gaze.

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"Are you hungry?" The voice chirped, teasing, mean, "Come out, baby. I've got something here in my pocket you can taste." A filthy laugh. Slow, easy footsteps. Willing to rape you before he killed you. Hiromi felt himself burn with fury, ready to wring this man's neck with his own two hands.

Hiromi walked the streets easily, now. His power had come on in leaps and bounds, and he both trusted in his own abilities, and feared nothing of death. Not since you had held his life in your hands, and thrown it straight back in his face.

He was a disordered eater at the best of times, but, a sudden faintness from hunger sent him seeking food. Hiromi knew some dirty little spider had built a web at an abandoned store, and did not fear a man who sought to ensnare the desperate.

Let him try me, thought Hiromi as he approached, lit by the sickly orange glow of streetlights, and see where it gets him.

Just a few steps from the entrance, Hiromi paused mid-step, his heart hiccuping in his chest. It was you. Inside the store, your Cursed energy faltering and so overwhelmed by that of the spider. Hiromi's lips parted, to call for you, a hand in the dark. He stopped, gritting his teeth. No-- this would not do, he thought, as he began a hunt of his own.

The spider was so obviously distracted by excitement, thrilled to find a woman in his dirty little trap. He had found you, by the time Hiromi reached you, in time to see you flung, body smashing against the counter, curling and coughing. Hiromi stepped behind the spider, seething, overburdened with terrible strength.

You had looked up in time to see your hook-nosed man wind an arm round your assailant's neck, throttling him, dragging him backwards out of the store. The hook-nosed man's face was twisted, ugly with rage...and for what? For you?

If your Cursed-energy had been no match for that of your assailant, his was dwarfed by that of your rescuer. Still coughing, doubled over on your hands and knees, you crawled to the entrance, watching the streetlights flicker above your hook-nosed man as he choked the life out of your assailant, merciless in his conviction.

You knelt there, drinking in his profile, in that sickly orange glow. His sharply squared jaw. His black overcoat, shrouding him like Death itself. Panting and cursing as his arms shook, your assailant fighting weakly beneath him. Choking the life out of a man, a murder most intimate. For you. Killing, with his bare hands-- for you.

Time hung in suspended animation in these small hours. Your rescuer sighed, the tension releasing from his shoulders as he knelt back on his haunches. He appeared devoid of guilt, at having carried out his sentencing. Slowly, as if fearful of what he would see in your eyes, he turned to you, kneeling in the doorway of the shop.

Your eyes met. You studied each other in silence. He had a way of making you transparent. You had a way of making him exposed. His panting slowed, palms flush to his thighs, offering you a cautious smile, as your eyes glimmered in the dark.

"English," he spoke, by way of greeting.

"Nose," you returned. He frowned, uncertain.

"N..?"

You reached up to stroke your nose, and repeated, with a smile; "Nose."

His hand reached up to mirror yours, realising, and he burst into laughter, rich and genuine. You blushed, burying your face in your hands as he continued to laugh. He wiped his eyes, fingering the hook in his nose again, looking at you with those deep embering eyes that wholly undressed you.

"Nose," he repeated, chuckling, "Subarashī." Your bit your lip in mirth, looking anywhere but at him as he tried to catch your eye again, mischief twinkling in his.

Hiromi stood, stretching his shoulders back with a husky groan, tipping his neck from side to side. He stepped over to you, and you felt, ridiculously, so teenagerish as the odd duality of your hook-nosed man made your belly twist. You saw a long-fingered hand enter your line of sight. You looked at it questioningly. The fingers wiggled in invitation.

With a shaking hand, you took his. He pulled you up and smiled at you, swinging your hand briefly in his before releasing it, waiting for you to step into the shop before he followed. You browsed for food, as if Saturday-Night-Snack-Hunting as a couple, in safe silence.

Shivering as the adrenaline wore off, your stomach clenched with terrified nausea to hear explosions, shouts, drawing ever nearer in the street outside. Your hook-nosed man looked up, hangdog eyes wide, flicking from you, to the street, and back again. He gritted his teeth, bundling packets of food into the pockets of his overcoat.

You found yourself manhandled, his heavy coat suddenly on you. Your rescuer's hands moved deftly, smoothing the coat across your shoulders, searching for words, irritated by his intelligence in one language and his stupidity in another.

"Cold-- hungry-- go," Hiromi pressed in broken English, spinning you as you protested, urging you through the back door. You turned in the doorway, your eyes begging him to...what? To go with you? There was no time, no time--

Hiromi materialised his gavel, and crouched, snarling at you: "GO!" He roared, steeped in regret as you sprinted away, guarding your life like a child.

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Your hook-nosed man began to leave you breadcrumbs; tickets to safe havens, food, shelter, beds. You felt the vestiges of his Cursed-energy wherever you followed his trail, haunted by the path of devastation he left to build you sanctuaries.

Your dialogue budded, and combined with his notes and signs, you began to learn more about him. His notes, secreted away in scrawled English, street signs flipped to point in alternate directions, and crude maps drawn on dust-caked windows, all added colour and life to him.

Hiromi took a little joy, his cold heart popping to life, at the little hearts you drew in the dust; signs of acknowledgement, a tiny thrill.

You found yourself drawn to a bookstore, and scoured the shelves, looking for a particular something, a matching pair. You found hints of him in the pockets of the hook-nosed man's overcoat; a business card, in Japanese. A handkerchief, curiously embroidered with two gold initials-- H.H. A set of housekeys with a key-finder fob. A pair of chewed pens. You still thought of him as "Nose".

Hiromi still thought of you as "English", as he caught himself differentiating you from the others. Still steeped in this depression, this black-dog-misery and ugliness, he saw you, a light in the dark, who hid yourself to protect yourself as well as others, from needless violence.

They were all ugly...except, perhaps, for you.

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You sighed as you slipped into the hot bath, water up to your chin in the great, deep basin of this luxury hotel. You were impressed there was still a hot water supply, and you felt a gleeful coil of naughtiness, knowing you would never usually be able to afford to stay in such opulence, all marble tiles and gold taps.

Fighting for survival did not negate the fundamental craving for little joys, and you took advantage of the selection of complimentary soaps, scouring yourself free of grime with happy hums. You sang to yourself, quiet in the evening hush, just you and your languid splishing--

-- oh. A cautious approach. A familiar power. You clasped the lip of the bath, sinking your body under the water.

"...hello? Nose?" You called out. You heard the click of a lock, quick feet stepping in, locking the door behind him. A single held breath.

"...English?"

You blushed, pressing your lips to your knuckles, white from how tightly you gripped the bath. Hiromi's cheeks prickled faintly, hearing soft splashes from the bathroom, seeing your clothes discarded over the bed, your rifle leaning against it. You cleared your throat, wanting to talk, not knowing where to start.

"Mhm." Hiromi smiled at your little squeak, sitting with a groan and creaking knees, his back against the wall beside the bathroom door. Separated by this thin wall, he reached a hand around the doorway behind him. You giggled to see his long fingered hand offer you a jaunty wave.

"Konbanwa, English," he offered. He jolted to feel your little hand, warm and wet, squeeze his. His thumb grazed over your knuckles, smooth, examining, probing in a way that made your belly tight. You reluctantly released his fingers, humming in thought as you reached out of the bath into your backpack, searching for something.

Momentarily, Hiromi felt something gently tap the side of his head around the bathroom door, and he giggled, a noise which made you paddle your feet in delight. He reached up, taking a Japanese-English dictionary and phrasebook from your hand.

"Ahhhhh!" Hiromi hummed, genuinely thrilled, "Yoi aidea." He skimmed through the book, hunting again, and you paused, listening.

"Good idea!" He stated, confident, and he squirmed to hear you laugh at his janky pronunciation. Hiromi wanted so dearly to see you, to know you were uninjured, and instead scoured his little book again.

"Hurt?" He asked you. You softened, responding automatically.

"Ah...no, I'm...hmm," you flipped through your own book, "...uhm...daijōbu desu?"

Hiromi hummed, satisfied. You talked this way, for some time, gently brushing the outskirts of each others' language and personality. Hiromi corrected you. You corrected him. The bath grew cold. The light began to die behind the windows, casting you both in deep shadow and amber glow.

At some point, in the conversation, your hands had trailed together again. Hiromi now leaned sideways against the wall, his cheek pressed against it, eyes closed as his fingertips grazed the inside of your wrist.

You lay in the bath, shivering, feeling your heartbeat between your legs from such an innocent, intimate touch-- except, it did not feel innocent in intent. Perhaps, that was what made you squirm.

"Stay safe," Hiromi whispered to you, his fingers drawing circles on your palm, his next word crumpling your face with barely restrained tears, "Afraid."

Hiromi bit his lip in anguish, eyes squeezed shut to see you in his mind's eye, so desperately touch-starved as you pressed a kiss to his palm. He felt your lips remain, nose ghosting against his pulse. He imagined those lips on his own, and he was filled with an anxious need to taste you, to lift you from the bath, wrap you up in the bed and his arms, safe.

Fully distracted by thoughts of you and your sweet cries beneath his body, Hiromi almost missed you holding out your book to him, pressed open at the start-- and a name, your name, written neatly on the page. You offered this, all the while wanting to step to him from the bath, and offer him the feel of those clever fingers, examining the rest of your body.

"Oh..." Hiromi whispered, reverent, squeezing your hand as he swiped his thumb over the faint imprint of your written name, repeating it aloud slowly. Hearing him speak your name, almost had you climbing out of the bath and into his lap. You closed your eyes, imagining him crying it out as he peaked, buried deeply inside you. You burned with the urgent need to know him.

Just a few seconds later, Hiromi's hand reached round the corner, offering his own book back to you, with his own name written in your own alphabet, jolted and square.

"Higuruma...Hiromi?" He hummed, happily.

"Hiromi," you repeated, and he hummed again, delighted by your name on his lips. You tucked your dictionary away, thrilled, reaching for a towel.

"It suits you. I love it." Hiromi understood just one word you had uttered, and it sent joy creeping down his spine. He pressed his forehead against the wall.

Pull yourself together, Hiromi, he thought, it's just loneliness and desperation. Nothing else. No amount of logic and self-chastisement stopped his mouth from moving independently of his mind, as he flicked through your dictionary, imbued with your name.

"Bed. Stay. Please." Silence. Hiromi pressed the corner of the dictionary to his head, cursing himself under his breath. Idiot, pathetic little moron, stupid--

"Yes."

Hiromi's stomach swooped, missing a step, hearing you climb out of the bath. You steeled yourself, blushing furiously, to wrap a towel around yourself and pad out to the bedroom. Hiromi turned his back to you, but not before seeing the graceful curve of your leg, the wet cleavage of your breasts, the towel barely skimming the tops of your thighs. He breathed slowly, clawing back his self-control as you dressed behind him.

A long, slow whistle, belonging to neither of you, broke the silence, and your blood ran with ice water.

Voices spoke, Hiromi spitting threats, in this language that still gatekept against your understanding.

You jacked sideways, still topless, seizing your rifle as Hiromi demolished the doorway with a single wide swing of his gavel. You heard laughter from the corridor, and you hurriedly pulled your top and Hiromi's overcoat on, fixing your rifle on your shoulder to take aim.

Hiromi backed up to you, wrapping one arm behind himself and around you, fingers splayed against the small of your back. You understood none of the venom spat between Hiromi and this hidden assailant.

Your nerves on a knife-edge, you sensed movement behind the shattered brickwork of the doorway, and fired, a deafening blow in this enclosed space. A spray of blood and an enraged shout through the drifting plaster-cloud saw you hit your mark, and Hiromi exclaimed, shocked and delighted, squeezing your waist.

"I've seen better shots than that from her, bastard" Hiromi warned, "and if you think she's easy prey, you've got both of us to take down."

"Hiromi," you gasped, hyperventilating, "Hiromi-- Hiromi--"

Silence through the room; Hiromi's ears rang. He pocketed your dictionary, and grasped your cheeks, eyes fixed to yours and wordlessly reassuring you as he turned you towards him from the doorway. You felt your heart bounding in your chest, hands loosening on your rifle as you drank him in, breathed the same air, panting, together--

--it was all too fast. Hiromi's eyes fixing behind you. His panicked shout. Being thrown sideways onto the bed, a glassy smash, a scream that may have been your own--

Hiromi and your hunter plummeted in an outward spray of glass, two inky blots fading into the night.

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You had searched so desperately. Nothing could assure you Hiromi was still alive. There were no breadcrumbs left in the dust; nil but blood, and so much of it, beneath the shattered hotel window, so many stories up.

You had run your hands through it, clotted with the rubble, needing to feel him within the grisly spill-- alas. Too many residuals passed over this land. Too many battles fought, too many lives spent and saved, for clairvoyance to be what repaired your fractured heart.

You steeled yourself. Adversity goaded you to try harder. To do better. You took to the hunt yourself. You amassed points from potshots, hidden in curious places to execute nasty little opportunists who sought dominion over the weak.

While you had had no experience of the Kogane-- the odd, winged shikigami which acted as an interface between the players and the game-- in your passive state, they now became regular visitors, updating you of your points total. You had assumed they could not speak your language-- you were wrong.

Witnessing, from afar, one day, another player asking Kogane a question, your stomach rolled with nausea and hope as you called the black-tailed beast to you.

"Kogane?" The creature appeared with a pop. Your mouth opened, and closed, faltering over your words.

"Kogane, is-- is Hiromi Higuruma a player in the game?"

Silence-- and an answer; "Higuruma Hiromi is a player in the game--"

All of the air left your lungs in an enormous gasp, a heaving cry of relief as you doubled over, your hands cupped over your mouth and nose, tears streaming down around your fingers, before the Kogane had even finished giving its report.

"Thank you-- th--thank you, Kogane," you sobbed, blinded by your own tears. This tiny demon, to whom manners meant nothing, hung impassively. It disappeared with a pop as you spun away, cloaked with conviction.

You turned on a pinhead, cocking your rifle ready, and stalked off through the ruins; all of your steeling wisped away like ashes, your heart on the battlefield, knowing your vulnerability was out there, alive.

You decided now, with a smile at the thought of those beetle-black eyes, to hunt not for business, but for pleasure.

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Hiromi felt the damp all the way to his bones, in these heavy, wet clothes, made heavier still by the excruciating weight of his crimes. The theatre door swung closed behind him, and he leaned his back against the wall, crouching, the palms of his heels pressing so hard into his eyes that he was blinded by lights.

He had fallen beyond salvation, and it gnawed at the rotten wood of him, eating him alive. Feeling his brain judder, his tie too tight, the walls too close, the silence too deafening, Hiromi tried to collect himself. He pressed his palms to his thighs and breathed; in through his nose one two three four five and out through his mouth one two three four five.

Feeling his heart rate slow, full of equal parts light and dark, Hiromi called out into the gloom, straightening slowly.

"Kogane." The creature appeared with a pop, waiting, patient. Hiromi spoke your name, and then, hesitant--

"...is she a player in the game?" A heartbeat. Two. Three.

"Confirmed--"

Hiromi did not hear the rest, buckling to his haunches with a primal cry of gratitude, and a few moments of dry sobs as his fingers raked through his hair. Chest heaving, he breathed again, one two three four five, one two three four five.

In the space taken for one breath, Hiromi decided not to find you. You, who had always chosen not to fight. You, whose pleading eyes still haunted him. You could not be sullied by his rot.

Hiromi stepped out into the night, a porcelain man checkered with cracks, seeking only to rebuild a world worthy of you.

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He's here.

Climbing the stairs, fine piano music rang distant, its notes bittersweet, cherries in kirsch. Your feet carried you unbidden and you ascended, the notes becoming sweeter, feeling him, closer, playing this Siren's song.

Stepping into the doorway of the skyline bar, he must have felt your approach. The lights were low, refracted through a hundred hanging glasses, a hundred under-lit bottles of vim and vigour. The room sprawled out in an expansive, long C-shape, and your heart stuttered to see Hiromi at the end, pale fingers moving across the piano, white-shirt-shoulders burdened by the weight of his song.

You felt him build in the music as you approached, each note demanding more of him, and more and more and more and more--

There was only the briefest hitch in the music, barely perceptible, as you slid onto the bench beside Hiromi. He did not look up, his mouth set in a grim line, his eyes pressed tightly shut.

Consumed by the need to feel his skin on yours, you reached out, your hand ghosting over his. In a flash, Hiromi's hand darted up to grab yours, fingers tangled, as his other hand continued to move, playing this bisected song. A few moments passed, this way, with Hiromi pressing his lips and nose to your knuckles, his face contorted, conflicted-- pained.

"Go," he whispered, breath fanning over your hand, "bad."

"I...I don't--...bad?" You turned towards him, to hold him, and he jerked, twitching away from you, and you felt your heart tug along with him.

"No. Me. I...am bad." You shook your head, more and more fervent as Hiromi twisted away from you, quietly cursing, husky, tortured. He tried to release your hand, and you refused, plaiting your fingers in his, steadfast in a way that filled him with an animalistic urge to appreciate you.

You turned from him, your other hand resting upon the high keys, pressing gentle, uncertain notes. Overwhelmed by your closeness, and your insistent faith in him, Hiromi softened to watch your profile, backlit from the liquid glow of the bar. Your small hand, moving softly over the keys. Your heart beating like butterfly wings in your throat.

"No. Not bad. Lost. Lonely. Sabishī."

Every moment of belief you handed him, pulled Hiromi closer to the light. Swallowing thickly, he brought your joined hands to the keys, laying his palm over the back of yours, overlaying your fingers with his own. He pressed, soft insistent touches, on your fingers, guiding them to play. You felt your belly coil with odd pleasure, captivated by Hiromi's hands, all at once gentle and rough, smart and instinctual--

"Hiromi--"

"No. Stop." Hiromi tensed, his voice rough, fraying alongside his self-control. His hand shook over your own, the notes stopping now. Heat burst through you, certain he felt it too, this dangerous need, and his name forced its way out of you again, a challenge.

"Hiro--"

Hiromi spat venom again, growling and cursing as he stood, lifting you by the waist, sitting you upon the keys with a spray of notes, his arms shaking as they pressed beside you, trapping you in. Nose to nose, his breath on your lips, his face twisted with fury and need, Hiromi whispered to you.

"Stop. My name--" Hiromi shook, on his last thread, half a step away from using you--

When your hand snaked to his tie, tugging him closer, your other hand sinking into the back of his hair, Hiromi snapped.

His lips pressed to yours, hot and hungry, his body closing the rest of the distance to be flush between your thighs. Your mouth opened to him, feeling his urgency as he drank down your stolen breath, one hand tilting your head back to consume you, the other dragging through the plush rolls of your belly and hips.

Every kiss was hot and anguished, punctuated by Hiromi's low rolling voice, not needing language to feel the fervour and vice on his lips-- "--won't be gentle-- I'm sorry I-- I can't--"

You insisted your understanding on him the only way you knew how; fingers working his tie off and draping it round your own neck, locking your legs around him to press his aching cock against your core, undoing his shirt in a desperate flurry, all notes and fingers and tongues and moans.

You tasted rum in his mouth, all spice and brown sugar, and his hand wandered to your throat, feeling your pulse there before tilting you backwards, arched against the hood of the piano. With your head rested back, he spoke to you, shirt now unbuttoned to his navel, cock straining against the material below a trail of black hair.

"--making a mistake to let a monster put his mouth on you, English-- let's see what sounds you can make." Your khaki t-shirt was pulled off over your head, where Hiromi let it catch around your hands, twisting it to bind you. Hiromi kept you gripped this way, leaning over you, caging you in as he gripped the cups of your bra between his teeth, yanking them down to free your breasts.

Hiromi shuddered and moaned, feeling a drop of pre-cum soak into his boxers, as he flattened his tongue over your nipple, rolling, tasting, pulling you between his lips, nuzzling from side to side like an animal. You mewled, jutting your hips involuntarily, and Hiromi pressed back, pleasuring you with rough, sharp thrusts against your clothed pussy.

Hiromi leaned back, releasing your nipple with a hard suck, gazing down at where he fucked himself against you, mesmerised by the way you shivered and humped against his cock. Unabashed, his words falling over you like strange-eyed constellations, Hiromi fucked you with his voice--

"--cum like this, and I'll give you my fingers...cum like that, and I'll give you my tongue-- fuck, I'll eat you alive, you fucking goddess--"

As Hiromi spoke, all twisted rage and growls, his hips slammed into you, spurred on by your squeaks and whimpers, gripping the fat of your hips to ram your core against him. The pleasure was brutal, all harsh fabric friction and Hiromi's unrestrained adoration, and you tried to hold yourself together as you were dragged to orgasm, your frantic hands pressing disjointed chords on the keys beneath you.

Hiromi wanted to, needed to cum like this, with you, knowing he'd be able to continue fucking you after until he collapsed in your arns from exhaustion. Pausing only briefly to reach into his boxers, and angle his angry, throbbing cock upwards so the bulbous tip pressed between his waistband and belly, Hiromi's eyes rolled back in unadulterated ecstasy as he continued to fuck you against him.

You were both close, having been unfinished even by yourselves for weeks, and Hiromi's eyes burned into yours, feral with the need for you to finish with him, feeling your thighs tense around him as you babbled, fully understanding your meaning behind the nonsense--

"--gonna cum-- please-- Hiromi-- harder--"

You pressed back against the piano, arching with a high-pitched cry as hot pleasure burst through you, from your deeply aching clit outwards, crackling through your fingers, all white-hot sparks and embers. Watching you convulse against him, angling his hips to rut his trapped cock tip, feeling his thighs and belly set alight with the force of his orgasm, his hands planted either side of you, back twitching as he came with a bark.

Still riding the last waves of your orgasm, you watched him in fascination. The sight of Hiromi's cum spurting in long, white ropes onto his navel and yours, his agonised, fractured gasps, had you humping against the underside of his cock again, dragging out your peak to hear him whimper, cock twitching against your core. Your hand drifted to his belly, stroking the cum between your fingertips in a blissful haze, squeezing a thumb under the foreskin of his exposed cockhead, stroking his slit with his own lubrication.

Hiromi convulsed and growled at you, clasping your hand against him, dopey and shaking as you drank his reaction from his eyes, thumb still circling his cockhead, slippery with his seed.

"St--st--aaaaahhh..." You shushed Hiromi's weak cries, grazing your tongue over his lips, delighted as he twitched in your hand, weak little spurts of cum oozing onto your fingers. Hiromi let you continue like this, for a few seconds, before wrenching your hand away, plaiting your fingers into his own and nuzzling into you furiously. His heart leapt to hear you giggle as he bit into you, still to desperate, everything still not enough to take away this pain and this filth and this misery--

His other hand wandered down, stroking down the rolls of your belly, pinching, nails grazing, digging in all the way to your belt, undoing it with military efficiency. Not bothering to undo the button, he yanked down the zip instead, giving him enough room to manoeuvre his hand between your skin and the fabric, shucking your underwear aside to cup the wet heat of your pussy in one long hand.

Dipping his hand out to collect the cum off your belly, he thrust his hand back inside against your pussy again, teeth gritted and bared as he drank down your reactions now. He was satisfied to see the playful glint in your eyes flicker, your eyebrows raised in shock and overstimulation, teeth sinking into your lip as he rubbed your clit roughly, cum-sticky fingers rubbing broad strokes side to side across it.

"--two can play at that game, sweetheart...feels good? More? Harder?" Hiromi pressed you, in these words you didn't understand, and laughed, darkly satisfied as you wiggled beneath his hands, one hand resting lightly on your throat as you tried in vain to scoot away from him, your breath releasing in airy whimpers.

"No answer?" Hiromi moved his fingers faster, harder, your pussy squelching with your mixed cum inside your trousers, feeling you writhe beneath them, "I'll decide for you then."

Hiromi urged your orgasm to build, faster and harder this time, teeth gritted as he dragged you to the edge, growling into you as his tongue flicked roughly over your nipple--

"--come on-- know you can do it-- I'll go as hard as you like, come on, good girl--ah, there-- good girrrrllll..." Hiromi softened his movements, fingers undulating against your pussy as he pulled another orgasm from you, moving one finger from your throat to dip into your mouth, shuddering as you sucked it around your cries and whimpers.

Hiromi felt his cock beginning to stir to life again, and he committed you to memory like this, draped over the piano, wet breasts heaving, his seed dripping down your belly, eyes glazed, body supple.

Another word, that he did know in English, slipped from him, as he dropped to his knees before you, worshiping at this otherworldly alter in the moonlight; "Beautiful."

You blushed, voice catching in your throat as Hiromi smiled up at you, soft and captive in his sincerity as he unbuttoned your trousers, easing them, with your underwear, gently to your ankles, and off. Feeling suddenly so exposed, so flawed, you squeezed your eyes shut. You felt Hiromi grip your ankle with such tenderness, pressing a long, languid kiss to the delicate bones on the inside.

"English," Hiromi called, beckoning you back to him. You shook your head, blushing, eyes still closed, and he insisted. "English, please--" your eyes opened, uncertain, and Hiromi hummed in satisfaction as he began to kiss his way up your inner legs, "--beautiful."

Sighing and leaning back, one arm over your eyes, your heart bursting with the oddity of having fallen in love like this, you felt safe behind your language barrier as you spoke without a filter; "Oh, Nose. I love you. I really do."

Hiromi paused, stunned and ecstatic, his lips still on your inner thigh. He shocked you both, at how quickly his grasp of your language had come along; "And I love you, English." Hiromi chuckled with genuine glee as you clapped your hands over your face, mortified. Hiromi nuzzled into you, wickedly playful, but soon overtaken by this violent urge again--

"And...I love--" you squealed as you felt Hiromi force your thighs apart, sinking his tongue and nose quickly between your folds, groaning as he tasted the heady mix of his and your cum around your clit. His cock, almost fully hard again, throbbed, tightening his waistband as the blood rushed to it again. Hiromi reached down, releasing his cock with a sigh.

He took his time, lifting your thighs over his shoulders as he lapped at you, dipping his tongue into your entrance, tasting you, teasing you. You leaned, watching him again, and he looked up at you, hooded eyes burning as he nuzzled his nose against your clit, and held his own cock in his hand, stroking slowly. You felt jolts of voyeuristic pleasure, watching him masturbate himself to the taste of you.

"I...I like that," you whispered to him, your hand moving down to graze your nails against his scalp. You watched Hiromi like pornography as he shuddered, his cock leaping in his hand, your eyes fixed intently on his hand gliding up and down his length as you felt your pleasure beginning to crescendo yet again.

"More, I--" you moved your hand in the air as if you were the one stroking Hiromi's cock, mimicking faster movements, "--faster, Hiromi." Hiromi hummed in understanding, groaning sandy little groans into your pussy now as his hand sped up, jacking himself off harder, feeling your pussy clench around nothing beneath his tongue as you watched him, your keening cries getting higher and higher until--

-- you came again, trembling with the fluttering soft pleasure of your third orgasm, thighs clamping around Hiromi's head as he sucked your clit gently between his lips. Hiromi panted, gripping the base of his cock, delaying his high, fingers wet with more pre-cum, desperate to drag you to the floor and finish using you.

Pulling his mouth away, his hands trembling on your thighs, Hiromi's face was unreadable as he looked at the floor. Standing, dishevelled and sweating, looking up at you with feral hunger, his cock still twitching in his hand, you could see the barest vestiges of Hiromi pleading you for permission, with those exquisite dark eyes--

All it took from you was a nod. Hiromi pounced, wiry arms deceptively strong as he lifted you, legs locked around his waist, nose nuzzling against yours, teeth nipping your lips with a rumble. Hiromi whispered his mother tongue against your mouth, reaching out one hand for his overcoat, and tossing it into the floor, before laying you on your front, sinking his teeth into your shoulder blade with bruising force.

"--you're beautiful, and you're good, and I don't deserve you-- fuck, I need you now, I--I need--"

Hiromi panted above you, barely restraining himself from slamming into you immediately as he looped an arm round your neck and chest, pulling you up and forcing your back to arch. Ghosting his nose over your ear, he whispered your name, making you shiver and squirm, certain you'd break unless you felt him inside you soon.

"Ready, English?" You trembled, nodding, head tipped back as his cock grazed against your slippery folds. One hand cupped your arse, stroking softly, before slapping, Hiromi captivated by its plush jiggle against his fingers, how you cried out, how your skin flushed so deliciously.

Not holding back, Hiromi slammed into you, one forearm planted to the floor while the other restrained you against him, cupping your breasts in one squeezing hand. He shook, cursing, his teeth in your shoulder, as he felt the tip of his cock kiss your gummy walls, feeling your pussy clench around him in shock.

Prone, hands clawing at his overcoat, Hiromi felt enormous inside you, so swollen and plush after waiting to be filled for so long. You whimpered, resting your head sideways against his clutching bicep, feeling the muscle tense and jump as he rammed into you at a relentless pace, still speaking husky reassurances to you in his native tongue.

"--rest, just-- keep still and let me hold you, I-- I can't slow down anymore--"

Feeling simultaneously used and protected, caged in like this for him to chase his own pleasure, your breath came in ragged gasps, both hands now clutching the forearm across your neck and chest, head swimming with the instinctively blissful fullness of his cock, tightly sleeved within you. You felt your belly jolt from the force of Hiromi's thrusts, and pressed up towards him, proud to hear him moan in response.

Hiromi fucked you with abandon, needing this release, needing to shed his sin and worthlessness, his heart leaping to feel you fall apart beneath him. His hips began to stutter, strength abandoning him as his orgasm approached, moaning deep breaking moans in your ear, nipping, holding your neck in his teeth.

His legs buckling beneath him, Hiromi cried out in bliss, his arm shaking around you, hips flush against your arse, cock twitching long, hot spurts of cum inside your walls, feeling you pulse around him, sucking him in. You revelled in the glorious feeling of him twitching deep inside you, your belly hot and clenching as his seed seeped out between your clenched thighs. Hiromi lay above you, panting, pressing soft kisses into your hair, using his arm to roll you sideways with him, covering you both with his overcoat.

With his arm beneath your head, the other lazily stroking the curve of your waist and hips, Hiromi laughed lazily behind you.

"You love me, English, hmm?" Hiromi laughed again as you clapped your hands to your face.

"Stop, Hiromi, stop--" you cried, blushing all the way to your toes as he squeezed you closer, "-- or I will shoot you." Hiromi lifted his head, peering mulishly at you, one eyebrow raised. You scowled, pointing to your gun, and then at him, and he gasped in mock horror.

"Ara ara," he rumbled, teasing you in alien words, "so violent when you're meant to be happy."

You remembered these sweet small hours the most, after the horrors that came. You remembered lying in each others' arms, sticky and teasing. You remembered sneaking to the bathrooms, splashing each other at the sinks as you cleaned up as best as you could. You remembered laughing as Hiromi cursed, trying to clean the residual cum off your clothes. You remembered Hiromi calling for you, afraid, anxious, before you ducked back up from behind the bar, your arms full of snacks and drinks. You remembered lying beneath the piano, gazing out across the city, flicking peanuts at each other, sharing slow, lazy kisses. You remembered naively seeing a future between you, a happy life with none of this unthinkable chaos.

It was your fault, you cursed yourself, vomiting and wracked with sobs, staggering away from the devastation. If you had been able to develop your power, and pose a real threat, Hiromi wouldn't have been burdened with such a liability.

Lost in each other again, nose to nose beneath the piano, your instincts had kicked in just fast enough to kick Hiromi away, saving his life as the floor between you both split with dreadful electricity. A strange-haired, wild-eyed boy burst through the room on a voltage, bottles smashing, the floor splitting, your rifle disappearing into the chasm as Hiromi shouted for you, urging you, ordering you-- you were sure, to move, to run, to save yourself and leave him.

You could do none of them, your military training meaning nothing to this god. You could do nothing when Hiromi stepped into his path, defending you, fighting tooth and nail. You could do nothing as the floors split beneath him, dragging them down in lightning flashes, horrifying rumbles. You had fled from the collapse, leaping flights of stairs one at a time, possessed by some strange force. You had not felt Hiromi again. Powerful though he was, you could not see how he could walk out of such a fight alive.

Putting all the dregs of your energy into hiding, refusing to let Hiromi's sacrifice be in vain, you cried yourself to sleep, nose in Hiromi's overcoat, his cum still cooling between your thighs.

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Each day merged into the next. Time had lost meaning. While you had the urge to fight before loving Hiromi, to have loved and lost him broke you and the future you may have had. The battleground was no place for someone such as yourself now. You cursed the injustice of it all.

Cold, dirty and exhausted, your head rested sideways against an industrial bin, praying the rain would wipe your soul clean.

You had translated his business card, with your little dictionary--

Lawyer. Higuruma Hiromi, Criminal Defence Lawyer.

Knowing this detail of his life, a sweet overlay of understanding dawned upon you, his character suddenly so understandable, his anguish shooting through you like knives, and all too late, too late--

"...English?"

Your head jerked up, to the end of the alleyway. Silhouetted, dripping in the rain, bleeding and bruised but impossibly alive--

Your face crumpled, pressed into your wet sleeves, shaking. Slow splashing footsteps approached you, Hiromi kneeling in front of you, a hand coming out to graze through your hair.

He opened your dictionary, dusty and bloodstained, before flicking to a dog-eared page;

"Found you."

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c-0-rr-x · 2 months

Text

Debellatio

You ask Nanami Kento to help you and Higuruma Hiromi on a mission, after the events of In Flagrante Delicto (link here); you find yourself at the mercy of both men after they are struck by the aphrodisiac Curse.

An introduction to Greynami from my Post-Shibuya!AU Nanami; see Grey and Post-Shibuya AU!Nanami Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, another sex pollen fic because I'm utterly depraved and godless, threesome, I don't like to ruin surprises

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"Kento. We're friends...right?"

Nanami Kento's one good eye narrowed at you, you, sat so surreptitiously on the arm of the sofa in the coffee shop you had asked to meet him at. Kento briefly considered lowering his newspaper, but decided he'd wait to see what you wanted, first. No longer working for Jujutsu High after the Shibuya incident, he did, however, stay in contact with you, one of his favourite colleagues.

"Friends?" he teased, "I don't have friends." You pouted, slapping his arm lightly, and he continued, "Alright...what is it you want?"

You scooted next to him on the sofa, emboldened by his invitation; "It's Hiromi," you said, already desperate, almost begging.

Already on first name terms, Kento thought, a light jealousy twisting in his gut, having thought he and you always had potential together. "Higuruma?" he pressed, scarred face neutral. You nodded.

"I released him to the wild," you stated, filling Kento in, "I don't think he was ready, but he was insistent, he's been out on his own for a while now...anyway, he seems to have been alright. Alone."

You did not tell Kento how Hiromi Higuruma had spent every night over the past week in your bed, spurred on initially by an aphrodisiac Curse he had failed to exorcise. You had not told anyone at Jujutsu High, in fact. How would you tell them that you and Hiromi were...what? Colleagues with benefits? On an uncertain path towards boyfriend and girlfriend? Pleasuring each other blind every day and night, lost in each others' minds and bodies? You almost blushed, aware your underwear was damp with the seed he had left inside you just that morning.

Kento raised one thin eyebrow at your pause, imploring you to continue. You took a deep breath.

"There's a mission tomorrow, and they want to send more than one First Grade, they think it's big, apparently. They chose Hiromi, and me. But I've worked with him, and he's...he's..." you trailed off, searching for the words. Kento helped.

"Difficult? Doesn't play well with others?" he offered lightly. You nodded, hands clasped in your lap.

"Can you come with us? Just as a buffer. We won't even need you I don't think, just..." you tailed off again, hoping Kento agreed.

That familiar jealousy burned in Kento's gut again. 'We'. 'Won't even need you'. Kento kicked himself mentally, wondering if he'd left it too late to ask you out to dinner, to make his move, wondering if Higuruma of all people had showed up and pipped him to the post. His jaw clenched as he put down his newspaper, giving you a gentle reassuring smile. Of course he agreed.

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"Why is he here?" Hiromi pressed you, rolling his gavel between his hands in irritation. Nanami Kento stood a few feet away from you and Hiromi, catching up with Ijichi while the veil was prepared around a derelict shopping centre, held together by ivy and abandoned "SALE!" banners.

"Just for back-up, Hiromi. Anyway, I haven't seen him in ages. You'll be friends in no time, I'm sure of it," you cooed.

Hiromi bristled. He had heard you speak fondly of this...this...sexy pirate, Nanami Kento, and in these early, brittle stages of your relationship together, Hiromi couldn't help but feel threatened by this imposing figure of a man. Allowing himself a moment of fragile masculinity, he shook it off, reminding himself that you weren't a competition.

But that if you were, you'd chosen Hiromi and he had won anyway.

Kento smiled fondly at Ijichi, gripping his hand in a friendly squeeze, before heading over to you and Hiromi, the veil descending below him in an oily drip down an invisible dome. Kento's face remained neutral as he approached, he and Hiromi reading each other, both shrewd, calculating. You swallowed at the palpable tension, before trying to bridge the gap with a reassuring smile to them both. Kento spoke first.

"The electricity's back on, so we're not operating in the dark. We should introduce ourselves. Nanami Kento," he said shortly, offering a brief bow, his gaze piercing into Hiromi even through an eye patch, it seemed.

"Higuruma Hiromi," he offered, "I've been told you're just here as..."

"...insurance," Kento finished coolly, "as you're rather...new to this." Hiromi felt another pang of irritation, smiling tightly at Kento.

Kento turned to you, giving you a smile so warm and sincere that it cracked through his icy demeanour. When you smiled back, Hiromi gritted his teeth, reminding himself again to behave. Eyes now on you, he threaded his fingers through yours, tapping your joined hands against his thigh in an act of affection and possession.

"Come on then, my love. We'll lead the way, shall we?" Hiromi pulled you ahead of Kento as a pair, and Kento glowered silently at your backs as he followed you into the building.

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"Have you read The Day of the Triffids?" you mused aloud to Hiromi and Kento, running your hand along the network of enormous vines, some as thick as your thigh, clinging along the inner walls of the building. A hazy mist had settled within the confines of the corridors, dewy and tropical in the summer humidity of central Tokyo. Exotic and otherworldly flora popped in bursts of colour from the ceiling and floor as the corridor curved away from you.

Hiromi and Kento both confirmed immediately, competitive, flashing each other furious glances. You were oblivious, examining the tendrils and flowers in glittery-eyed fascination. Hiromi and Kento stewed, both hovering close to you, irritated by the invasion of each others' space.

"We should go deeper into the building," Hiromi stated, confident, tapping his gavel against his adjacent palm, "the main Curse body is probably hiding centrally." Kento cleared his throat, imitating politeness as he disagreed.

"Many of these Curses linger on the edges, like spiders in webs. It would be more thorough to scout inwards from the edges, first."

"Well that sounds pretty inefficient seeing as we know--"

"--well we don't know, you're just assuming--"

"--based on experience, I think--"

"--oh yes, and what experience would that be?" Kento finished, curt, brittle. He turned to you, shoulders clenched in a taut line under the clipped corners of his suit. Hiromi spun to catch your eye, anger burning low at Kento's interference. Both beseeched you, seethingly, to agree with them.

You blushed under their stares, feeling their Cursed energy rising, competing, and gulped, feeling naked and exposed.

"I think," you started slowly, "that both options are as viable as the other," both Kento and Hiromi huffed air out of their noses, lips curled in annoyance, "and so you two should decide between you."

"Either way," you continued, the air thick with tension, "we have to go this way to get to the rest of the building anyway. It will give you two time to make a decision, and maybe learn to get along?" Both men bristled at your gentle chastisement, facing each other, chins out, teeth gritted.

You continued behind Hiromi and Kento along the corridor, watching with mute horror, as conversation escalated into debate, descended into argument, spiralled into insults--

"Well you're apparently so smart," spat Kento at Hiromi, "that I probably should let you decide, even if you find out the hard way, but you're not dragging her into danger too, so--"

"--sorry we can't all muscle our way through our problems, Nanami, she probably should stay with the brains of the group, so--"

"--she's coming with me!" Their voices rang through the corridor in tandem, and you shouted in warning, as they both tripped, distracted, their legs tangling in a flower-covered vine, like trip wire across the floor.

A puff of yellow pollen shot up from the flowers, clouding Kento and Hiromi in a clinging haze. They coughed, sneezing, staggering backwards out of the cloud. Kento cleared his eye with a swift wipe, looking down at himself, surveying the damage.

But, Hiromi spun to face you, barely disguised panic in his eyes; "Shit. Shit. Not again--"

Your jaw dropped, appalled; "Again? Hiromi? Was this-- is this--"

Hiromi groaned, and leaned heavily, shivering against the wall as the pollen seeped through his pores, the yellow fading as it sunk into Hiromi's bloodstream. Kento's back was to you, but dread crept into your belly, low and hot, as you saw his shoulders roll and shudder, his scarred hand clasped over his mouth as his chin dipped towards the floor.

As both Hiromi and Kento turned slowly to look at you, hunger glowing in their eyes, you began to take tentative steps backwards, your speed gradually increasing as you spun, quickly building into a full sprint back down the corridor.

Kento was burning from the inside out; every nerve was on fire with desperate arousal, his cock rapidly hardening in the confines of his slim suit trousers, and he knew in furious desperation that if he didn't pin you down and ram every inch of himself into you, that he would surely perish in these sordid flames, and--

As Kento's legs bent with intent to hunt you down the corridor, he felt slim fingers grip around the front of his throat, Hiromi stepping into his vision, clearly suffering just as he was, but determined and steely, hooded eyes smouldering with threat.

"Not my girl, Nanami," Hiromi spat, squeezing the sides of Kento's thick throat with surprising force. Kento chuckled, full of dark mirth as he gripped Hiromi by the wrist, twisting it away from him; Hiromi held fast, hand shaking with exertion.

"You were the back-up, Higuruma," Kento rumbled, smirking, judgement clouded by wild, throbbing need, "so back off. Daddy's home now." Kento swept Hiromi's legs from under him, elbowing him to the ground, before leaping over his scrabbling form and stalking down the corridor, with surprising grace for such a big man.

Hiromi was on Kento in seconds, spinning him into a resounding thud against the wall, and Kento roared in frustration, as the two continued to scrap along the corridor, concrete cracking under their feet and shoulders as they bodied each other into the walls, trying to gain the upper hand.

You had reached the end of the corridor, the stairs blocked with a bawdry tangle of prickles and vines. You scanned the corridor, spotting a lift to the right, and you ripped fine vines away from its entrance, pressing the lift's button in a frantic panic, hearing the roars and crashes of Kento and Hiromi moving down the corridor towards you.

You had a moment of dread, fearful that the lift was now inoperable, before a tinny little ping announced the lift's arrival. Clambering over vines and into the lift, you saw a puff and crumble of rubble down the corridor as Kento was thrown into a wall, the ceiling partly collapsing above him.

You pressed the button again, again, again, your heart thick in your throat. You saw Hiromi round the corridor, zigzagging across jigsaws of vines, eyes intently on you.

As the doors grinded closed, Kento and Hiromi descended upon them, still scrapping, bloody, fighting with mindless desperation and rage. The lift stayed still, halted by your own paralysis as you caught their eyes through the glass, both begging you to let them in.

You swallowed, your belly hot with anticipation, wanting to help but utterly incapable of accepting the only means by which you could help. You mouthed wordlessly at Hiromi and Kento. You pressed a shaking finger to the lift's 'down' button, and Hiromi swiftly countered by pressing the button outside the lift doors. The lift pinged, juddered, stopped, started, indecisive, torn.

You were at a stalemate. You ran your hands through your hair.

"I can't...I can't help both of you," you cried, turning to look at Nanami, eyes brimming with apology as he rested his forehead against his fist, breathing out in a shaking moan.

"Kento, I...Hiromi and I, we..." Kento thumped his fist against the outside of the lift, the lift trembling at his strength.

"You choose him?" Kento spat, feeling precum leak down his thigh in a constant damp stream. He coughed, arousal burning through his throat, and reached down to squeeze his cock, desperate for relief, moaning softly as he bit into his fist.

"You'll-- you'll help me, though?" Hiromi urged, hopeful and throbbing, palms and forehead pressed flat to the glass of the lift, eyelids heavy and breaths hot and urgent. You swallowed, considering your promise to always help Hiromi, and nodded slowly, swallowing, memories of how desperately he took you the first time sweeping through you, your clit aching and pussy clenching around nothing.

"Open the door. Please, please, open the door," Hiromi whispered in prayer. Kento accepted, sickly, that you had made your decision, still certain he may die without relief. The pollen pulsed through him, toxic and ruinous, and he felt his vision fade into animalistic shades of black, white and red.

"I can-- I-- just let me watch," Kento forced out, begging through clenched teeth. You hesitated, eyes flicking towards Hiromi in question. Hiromi scowled, lips curled in distaste.

"Watch, don't watch-- I don't give a fuck. But I'll have your head if you lay a finger on her."

Kento snarled, lips pulled taut against his teeth-- but nodded his agreement. Your hand lowered, hesitantly retracting from the button as Hiromi calmly pushed the 'open' button from the outside, eyes burning into you with unholy intent.

As the door opened, Hiromi stepped to you, trembling with restraint, fists clenching and unclenching as he urged you backwards, caging you in against the wall with outstretched arms. Not breaking eye contact, he reached down to grab one of your hands, pressing it hard against his straining erection with a low groan, eyes closed against the enormity of the tiny relief and the promise of more to come.

Keeping your hand pressed against him, rutting into your open palm, Hiromi dipped his mouth to your neck, taking your skin between his lips in a deep, bruising lovebite.

"You know how this works," he intoned, low and slow, licking your neck as he rubbed your hand on the outline of his rigid cock, "and I know you can take it." You hesitated as Kento moved slowly into the lift space, the doors closing behind him. His eye shot daggers through you, the burned side of his face twisted in agony, until his gaze flicked downwards, staring hungrily at where Hiromi rutted his cock into your open hand. Kento's tongue darted out to lick his lips, his hand sinking slowly to undo his own belt.

As Hiromi continued to devour your neck, moaning with abandon as he pressed closer to you, humping his weeping clothed cock against your body, you felt your own inhibition fade curiously away. Your trepidation was slowly being overtaken, being seeded and overgrown by a burning hunger. You took a gasping breath, high off your own desire, head swimming--

"Hiromi-- the pollen, it's-- it's on your clothes," you urged, your brain clouding, thrumming, succumbing as yellow mist soaked into your skin.

Kento watched with erotic fascination as you became pliable, supple as water under Hiromi's mouth, your eyes half-closed with aching arousal, a desperate keening noise rising from your throat.

"Oh god yes," groaned Kento, voice gravelly with lust as he released his throbbing erection, pumping his thick cock in his fist, biting the backs of his knuckles on his free hand, "keep going, don't stop-- don't--"

Hiromi drank up Kento's begging, seethingly determined to prove his ownership of you, and grasped your top between his hands, ripping it open like paper, snapping the front of your bra so the cups hung loosely over your pebbled nipples. Hiromi heard Kento release a shuddering whine behind him as he latched his tongue and lips over your nipple, still rutting into your hand, which was joined by the other now as you worked frantically at Hiromi's trousers to release him.

Kento and Hiromi both gasped as Hiromi's cock sprang upwards, and was instantly grasped between your fingers, your first squeeze releasing a thick dribble of precum down Hiromi's length as he shuddered, moaning into your breasts, pressing his fist into the wall as you began to masturbate him. You ached to your very core, reeling with need.

"Please fuck me," you begged Hiromi, voice whispering and pleading in his ear, "cum inside me, as much as you want, I need it, I--" Hiromi didn't need to be told twice and lifted your legs to straddle his hips, holding you up against the wall as he flipped your skirt up, ripped your tights and sticky wet underwear at the groin, and allowed you to line up his cock between your puffy, glistening folds.

Kento's hand worked harder and harder on his own cock now, stopping to circle his thumb around the sensitive head, spreading his precum, fighting the urge to throw Hiromi aside and thrust into you himself. Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, he instead focused on where Hiromi's cock lined up with you.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" Kento growled as Hiromi paused, panting into your neck, "get inside her or I will."

With one aggressive thrust, Hiromi's cock rammed into you to the hilt, slamming you back against the wall as you cried out, clawing at him desperately. Your hands clenched the front of his shirt, gripping and ripping, buttons scattering over the floor with faint skitters, so desperate were you to feel Hiromi's skin on yours.

Hiromi fucked you ruthlessly, eyes fixed on where his cock crashed into you, hips snapping back and forth with barely controlled fury. Spurred on by your mewls and whimpers, Hiromi panted, chasing his relief, agonised cries breaking from his mouth with every other thrust.

Kento's eye had drooped closed behind Hiromi, stroking himself now to the sounds of you and Hiromi alone, feeling with agonising certainty that cumming in his own hand would do little to relieve his deadly need, but needing to chase his orgasm regardless. He felt his pleasure building rapidly as he heard you cum, falling apart with trembling cries around Hiromi's cock.

Hiromi didn't last long, his first orgasm hitting him with a wave of relief so violent, his knees almost buckled, relying on you for a moment to hold yourself up against him. Hiromi felt blinded as rope after rope of his seed spurted into you, coating your cervix, soothing your aching belly with warmth. Kento came with a shuddering gasp, streams of thick cum splattering onto the floor and coating his hand, face contorted in pain when he felt little to no relief despite his orgasm plundering through his every muscle.

You and Hiromi clung onto each other, still joined, and Hiromi's cock felt no softer at all, still rigid and held with urgency against your cervix, sucked in by your velvety walls.

"I'm-- I'm sorry I-- I can't stand--" Hiromi stuttered, dropping to his knees with your legs still wrapped around him, still pressed core to core as you wrapped your arms around his neck, straddling him, riding him as he whimpered into your mouth. Lost in your own pleasure, your eyes had drifted shut as you rode Hiromi, slippery with cum, keeping his cock jealously inside you, unwilling to let him pull out by more than an inch.

You felt a strong hand wind into your hair, tipping your head backwards and sideways, and as you gasped, you felt a droplet of salty cum drip onto your tongue. Kento's other hand, sticky with his own seed, ghosted around your lips as he stared down at you, scarred face impassive, but his eye urgently begging, and he dipped a cum-covered thumb into your mouth, stroking across your tongue.

Hiromi flung a hand out sideways, clawing with fury at Kento's thick, corded thigh; "Nanami," he hissed in warning. Kento ignored him, still staring at you, pleading, impeaching--

You nodded slowly, opening your mouth, holding out your tongue. Kento groaned his appreciation, and leant down to dip his tongue against yours as you gripped his thick cock in your hand. Hiromi scowled, thrusting you harder onto him in possessive punishment, satisfied to hear you squeak against Kento's tongue. As Kento pulled away from you and your mouth started to close, he gripped your jaw, stopping you.

"Open," he barked and you acquiesced, jolting and groaning as you felt him spit into your mouth, mixing with the drips of cum his fingers left behind. Humming lowly in satisfaction, Kento stood tall, manoeuvring your head and thrusting his full length down your throat with little warning.

Despite himself, Hiromi was hypnotised as Kento gripped you by the hair, ramming into you; Hiromi kept pace with Kento, matching his timing by slamming your hips down onto his. His eyes fixed on your mouth as you coughed and spluttered, cheeks covered with cum and saliva as you choked down wet gags, Kento barking orders at you as he slammed his cock repeatedly over your tongue and into your throat.

"Harder, Nanami," Hiromi ordered, blinded by lust as he felt your cunt clench around him, fluttering weakly as Hiromi slipped his hand between your legs, finding your clit with practiced ease, rubbing rapid circles, lubricated by the slick of your cum.

You were overwhelmed, floppy and malleable as you embraced being used by Kento and Hiromi, covered in fluids, sticky and sweating, and you shivered weakly as Hiromi dragged you to another orgasm. You felt Hiromi ram you onto him once, twice and three more times until he came with a frantic shout, legs cramping underneath him as he felt his seed shoot through him like electricity, dripping out of you and soaking the patch of trimmed black hair at the base of his cock. Hiromi whined, his balls clenching painfully, watching as Kento finished in your mouth.

Kento pulled you to him, his knuckles deep in your hair as your nose hit his neat honey-coloured pubes, gulping as streams of his hot cum trickled down your throat, Kento growling his relief-- "good girl-- good girl-- swallow now"-- as you drank him down.

Kento let go of your hair and you pulled back, gasping and coughing, his cock still rigid, sat wetly on your cheek as Kento rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck from side to side, still tense. Hiromi was wrecked, burning with need, but crippled and paralysed with a bone-deep exhaustion as he straightened his legs under you, his cock still rigid and throbbing inside you as he came down from his orgasm.

"Not-- not enough--" Kento rumbled, still desperate, devastated by the lack of relief.

"Enough, Nanami," Hiromi gasped, "She needs a--"

"'She' can handle it," you interrupted, nose to nose with Hiromi as he looked into you, glassy-eyed and worried. He nodded slowly. Kento rumbled his approval, pressing you forwards by the back of the neck until Hiromi was laid on his back on the floor, cock still inside you, and you laid down belly first on him.

Without hesitating, Kento mounted you from behind, his mouth ghosting against your ear as he bit it, relishing your squeaks as you pressed your cheek into Hiromi's chest. Lining up his cock with where Hiromi was already seated deep inside you, Kento pressed his cock into you.

You saw stars as your pussy was stretched more than it ever had been, clawing wildly at Hiromi's chest as Kento bottomed-out; Hiromi shivered with delight at the impossible tightness and slickness of you, his groans cracking as Kento's cock slid against his with every thrust. Higuruma lay unmoving at first, colours popping in his eyes, before digging his fingers into the plushness of your hips, and thrusting into you in tandem with Kento.

You were ruined, completely prone on Hiromi as you felt Hiromi and Kento's lengths bully in and out of you, your thighs shaking with urgency as your clit was shunted against Hiromi's pubic bone every time Kento rammed into you. Hearing Kento's groans, broken and velvety behind you, had you tipping over the edge, your arousal spurting out around Kento and Hiromi, your cries and whimpers echoing weakly around the little chamber.

Kento felt fire burst through his hips, back and belly as he came for a final time, barely able to keep himself from collapsing on top of you as he felt himself weaken, Hiromi's cock twitching against his as Hiromi shuddered, sandy gasps leaving his throat as his seed mixed with Kento's inside you.

Hiromi reached around you, rolling you all sideways so Kento could collapse onto the floor. You lay together, stunned, sticky and panting. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and desire. Kento chuckled, low and shaking, as you nuzzled into Hiromi, planting tender kisses on his jaw.

"Alright," he rumbled, reluctant, "so she's your girl. But I still owe her dinner."

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Hiromi and Kento at the end of this:

The reader:

This took me two large glasses of wine to write.

1K notes · View notes

c-0-rr-x · 2 months

Text

Taste in men: Angry Levi

406 notes · View notes

c-0-rr-x · 2 months

Text

Seasons of Grief

The reader comforts Kento as the anniversary of Yuu Haibara's death approaches, and after, as Kento faces the threat of losing her.

WARNINGS: 18+, Fluff, comfort smut and angry smut, hurt, angst, grief. You know what you came here for, you dirty birds.

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You felt Kento change like the seasons, when Yuu Haibara's death anniversary approached. His signs of grief, the post-traumatic stress, and his guilt at being unable to save his best friend, showed in the most curious ways. Remaining, as always, so outwardly stoic, Nanami appeared to all others unaffected; but to you, who as his fiancée, loved and knew him best, your heart broke softly for him year after year.

Firstly, the holiday brochures. More and more of them, ordered online and addressed to Kento- Malaysia, Australia, New Zealand...and countries you knew he and Yuu had spoken about visiting together after qualifying from Jujutsu High. Backpack tours of Europe. Scotland and Ireland. The Americas. Sometimes Kento mentioned taking a holiday to you, and sometimes he didn't- but you had seen his notebooks and the itineraries he had written, all comfort blankets for him, all escape plans, all safety nets. In one instance, you saw where he had accidentally written Yuu's name instead of yours, then crossed fiercely through, and replaced. He had always insisted you were his best friend. It never upset you that Yuu had been his first best friend.

Second, the clumsiness. The sound of porcelain smashing to pieces on the kitchen floor as Kento tidied the dishes. The quiet swearing as he caught his belt loop on the doors. The increase in minor injuries from missions, and his hushed, subdued apologies to you as you cleaned and dressed his wounds, laying gentle kisses on his temples while his forehead rested on your breasts, quiet and still, shadows long against the evening sun.

Thirdly, the phone calls to his parents and grandfather. Usually a weekly event, they become twice weekly, then every other day, then daily. He could not face calling Yuu's parents; although they would never allow him to apologise, full of guilt, for his perceived part in their son's death, his thumb still sometimes hovered over his screen, the Haibara's name listed on his screen. So, he called his own parents, just to let them know he was fine, and safe, and that you were fine and safe. His grief, he shared with his grandfather, in quiet Danish, curled up in an armchair late at night.

Finally, came the nightmares. Kento would wake up gasping, bare chest coated in cold sweat as he reached out for someone he would never make it to in time. You reached out to take his hand when it flung out in the dark, and he would pull you to him and start comforting you, and start reassuring you, wholly unaware that you heard his deep voice breaking so slightly in his chest. Unaware that he had been crying out for help in his sleep- help that never came when he and Yuu had needed it so badly. He stroked your hair and hushed sweet reassurance to you, letting you know he would never leave you, alone and afraid in the night.

Except, for this night. The night before the anniversary of Yuu's death. Kento did not want you to visit Yuu's grave with him on the anniversary, not wanting to burden you with his regrets. Wanting to offer Yuu the one-on-one time that he offered just once a year.

Kento's nightmares on this night were his most vivid so far. Desperate to sleep dreamlessly, he had sunk his fears into a whisky bottle, wordlessly allowing it when you gently removed the bottle after five large glasses. He had fallen asleep fitfully, tense with terror for the night ahead, but taken by force, numbed by the sweet opium of the drink.

You had curled close behind him, spooning him to you. You fell asleep with your nose to his shoulder blade, your arm barely reaching round his barrelled ribs to his chest, where he had grasped you tightly with his upper arm.

Kento's panicked shout broke you from your sleep in the wee small hours of the night. Chest heaving violently now, you were pushed away to your side of the bed. His hair, mussed and soft sat scatteringly over his forehead, head tossing from side to side, his arm reaching out again. You took his hand, calling his name, but Kento's hand clasped and unclasped around yours, unable to gain purchase. Your heart clenched painfully and you began to panic, unable to wake him, unable to bring Kento back and feeling like he would die there if you left him--

"DON'T HURT HIM-- PLEASE--"

"KENTO!"

Kento woke, shuddering gasps and wide-eyed, seeing Curses in every shadow as he sat hard up in bed, leant back on his elbows, chest and abdomen lurching with exertion. You crawled to him instantly, straddling him and clasping his tear-stained cheeks in your palms. Your face, contorted with pain, all for him, filled his vision. He sat up fully, thick corded arms wrapping you to him completely, enveloping you against his sweating chest. This time, you held him, whispering reassurances that you wouldn't leave him and that he was safe in your bed. Fingers tangled in his hair, scratching his scalp softly, rhythmic, in circles. His breathing calmed, his bounding heartbeat beginning to slow against your breasts.

Gently leaning you away, he wiped his eyes with one large movement. He had never loved you more than when you held him during his pain. He knew he was never less of a man to you, for crying out in his sleep. He knew he could hold his head high outside of these four walls, wearing your love like armour as he headed to battle.

Kento pulled you closer on his lap, nuzzling deeply into your neck and feeling the heat of your core against his hips. In his shirt, and only his shirt, he noted. Sighing against your throat as you felt him begin to harden beneath you.

"Thank you...please-- I just need to sleep." He groaned as you rocked your hips softly against his, granting wordless permission. He shuddered, chest bursting with love and gratefulness, lips and tongue paying homage to your throat while he unbuttoned your shirt. Your pussy sat directly atop his hardening shaft, and you shivered, whining as your shirt fell open, and Kento's calloused fingers cupped your breasts, insistently rolling over your nipples.

Kento moaned softly as you rode him through his pyjamas, cock straining upwards against the soft material. Your hand reached downwards, snaking across his abdomen and trail of hair until you grasped his shaft, pulling him gently upwards out of his clothes. His cock rested against his abdomen, and you swiped your thumb against the drop of precum at its tip. Kento's shoulders tensed and rolled at the sensation, yearning to be inside you, to feel you closer.

Kento took your nipples into his mouth and hands again as you gripped his cock, feeling his pulse bounding there, and you began to stroke him, firm and practiced, from ball to tip. Kento's eyes fluttered closed in pleasure, reaching down to grasp your hand under his, obsessed with how exceptional your small hand felt gripping his length.

Kento's hands left your body to lift you upwards, and you guided him to you, rubbing him between your folds to coat him in your arousal. Still sat upright as your knees and thighs embraced his hips, Kento's hands grasped your waist and gently pushed you downwards. You whimpered at the stretch of his length and girth, feeling so full before he was fully sheathed in you.

He shushed into your hair as you fell forwards against his chest, your fingertips pressing hard against it.

"You're so good to me...just a little more," and his arms wrapped around you, forearms pressing your hips downwards until he bottomed out, groaning and bucking, lips firm against yours as he drank your gasps and cries.

Barely pulling out, you cried his name as you felt him rocking your pussy tightly against him. Kento allowed no space between you, chest tight with affection and holding himself back so as not to squeeze you too hard. His pulsing tip continually pressing against your cervix and deepest walls, Kento gripped your hair at the roots, tipping your head back swiftly to expose your throat, his second hand still effortlessly thrusting you down his length, trying to close the space between you until you were one. His head tipped sideways, teeth scraping down either side of your throat, and you stilled completely, at his mercy as he took his comfort and pleasure from you.

The constant pressure against your cervix, and clit rubbing against his pubic bone, had your orgasm building quickly, and you fell prone in his arms; his hand gripping the roots of your hair grew tighter, and you felt him growl against your throat as his own built.

"Kento...harder...please..." And you felt his hand lifting you on and off his cock quicken in response, his hips raising to meet them, feeling the pressure of his thrusts jumping in your belly now. Your cheeks flushed and your belly tightened as you rocked harder against him, taking the clitoral stimulation you needed to shunt you over the edge. You gasped and cried, his name tumbling off your lips in waves.

"I'm so close...wait for me," Kento whispered against your lips, breaths quickening as his hands thrust you against him hard just a few more times before he stilled, pouring deep inside you, breaths juddering, feeling the fear seep out of him, his own body and mind full of you, and only you.

Kissing you softly, Kento deftly flipped you onto your back in bed. You gripped him by the back of the head, kissing and nipping at his ears, and he gently pulled out of you, reaching to his bedside table and pressing a soft cloth between your legs.

"Stay," he urged. As he rolled aside again to close his drawer, you clung against his back, spooning him again. Kento hesitated, tears pricking in his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by the love you gave. He allowed you to pull his back to your chest, falling asleep with you, shadows chased away, for now.

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"I've been requested for a mission. I don't like to be away, not today. But..." Kento smiled gently at you, hand reaching out to cup your cheek as you straightened your mission-wear.

"I'll be alright, I promise." He assured you, on the day of his visit to Yuu Haibara's grave, "But will you be? You're going with someone?"

"As always. I'm supporting Ino. It's only a low-end Second Grade apparently. We'll be fine."

Kento's stomach clamped painfully for a second, but he urged himself to relax- she'll be fine, Ino would never let anything happen to her.

You left shortly after, Kento's lips lingering on your own a second longer than usual. He finished getting ready, lunch prepared to sit with Yuu and catch him up on his life and his love, and headed to Jujutsu High. Under Torii gates, past effigies and low soft willowy branches, he found Yuu's grave, surrounded by too many others. Relaxing, feeling the positive purpose of his visit start to wash away the pain, Kento sat, greeting his old friend.

Kento sat with Yuu for hours. He found it just as easy talking to Yuu now as he had all those years ago-- probably easier, mused Kento sardonically, he talks a lot less now. Brushing crumbs off his suit, and picking up his jacket, Kento placed a hand on Yuu's headstone, wishing with a pang that it was Yuu's shoulder instead. Quashing the feeling with firm resolve, he spoke to Yuu, with Yuuji Itadori, and all of his subordinates clear in his mind.

"I'd die before I let them go the way you did, you know. Gojo and I...he may be a moron, Yuu, but we can change the system. I'm sure of it."

Kento bowed deeply, bidding his friend goodbye. Fat drops of rain started to fall, his light suit growing quickly more speckled, a flick of hair loosening and tipping over his forehead. Heading up the steps to the school buildings, and hoping he may run into you there after your mission, he passed another pair of sorcerers, and he froze as he heard a snippet of their conversation.

"...Second Grades died on a mission today. Body's being brought in now."

"Oh man. Just one of them at least. Wonder who it was?"

Kento felt ice-water rush through his veins. A thousand violent, bloody images flashed across his mind, and a wave of nausea threatened vomit. He clapped a hand over his mouth as he lost his footing, staggering sideways into the red pillar of a gate. Vision swimming, rain and red mist clouding his vision, he yanked off his glasses and dropped them into the mud, brown shoes slapping into a run, spattering gravel up his trouser legs.

You. Ino. You. Ino. You. YOU. Your faces and voices flashed in Kento's mind as he sprinted towards the mortuary, feeling sick to his stomach as he hoped beyond hope to meet Ino's corpse there, and not yours. Full of shame and fear, he ignored everyone and every greeting along the way until traditional Japanese wooden corridors made way to clinical white floors, metal doors. Slamming through the final set of metal doors, the scent of chloroform and death hit his nostrils, and he found Shoko completing the sign-in of a single body bag.

Shoko's eyes met Kento's as she reached into her pocket for her phone. Thick eyebrows tilted in surprise, she took in Nanami's appearance, dishevelled, soaked, wild.

"Nanami," she started, hesitantly, "I was just about to call you. Why are you crying? Nanami? Nanami?"

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It had taken a long time for Shoko to calm Kento down for long enough to tell him it wasn't you in that bag. Kento had fallen to his knees, hyperventilating, eyes wide and seeing nothing, as Shoko had shaken him by the shoulders and called for him.

There had been two second-grade missions that day; yours, and another. The casualty had been from the other, another young sorcerer slaughtered in combat. Your phone had been destroyed in your combat, so Ino had contacted Shoko at your insistence, for her to seek Kento out to tell him in person instead of interrupting his vigil at Yuu's grave. Just a misunderstanding, Nanami, Shoko insisted, she's alright, she's alright.

Fragile and exhausted, Nanami sat alone now in a quiet office, hands shaking around a mug of cheap coffee. Aside from the creak of passing footsteps on floorboards, Kento was in silence, only his thoughts for company.

"Nanamin? Can I come in?" Kento didn't answer, and a few seconds passed, before the door clicked open, Satoru letting himself in. His usual plaintive smile on his face, Satoru walked forwards to place a reassuring hand on Kento's shoulder.

"Nanamin. Shoko told me what happened." Silence, again, from Kento. Satoru continued, "Ino just messaged. They're in the car with Ijichi now. Both of them. She'll be back soon. Minor injuries apparently, Shoko can fix them right up, but..." Kento scowled up at Satoru, alarmed.

"I'm not in the mood for your games, Gojo. What is it?" Gojo's smile dropped, face uncharacteristically grim, and...disgusted?

"It wasn't some low second-grade they were sent to, Nanamin. It was a middle of the road first-grade at least. And the higher-ups who sent Ino and y/n knew that. I've suspected for a while that they've been bribing the administrators to rank certain Curses lower so they can justify sending in lower-grade sorcerers, and spare the big clan sorcerers. Saves them money, and it's handy when they don't have the higher-grade sorcerers to hand to deal with it." Satoru grimaced. "I'm going to deal with it, but I thought you'd want to bring them hell too. You and y/n deserve to know."

Kento was silent again as Satoru left. But, this time, he was wordless with rage. A red veil had descended over his thoughts, and Kento found himself close to collecting his blade and hunting down the Jujutsu Headquarters' higher-ups one by one.

How dare they, Kento seethed, up and pacing now, fists flexing pulse points in his temple and neck raised with fury, how dare they send you like a lamb to slaughter, to protect their wallets, to protect their own in the great clans.

His stomach churning, Kento realised now why the location of Jujutsu Headquarters was a closely guarded secret-- they'd have been murdered through spite years ago, he realised. He had only one connection to the higher-ups, and he had reached for his phone with shaking hands, when the door opened once again, and you walked in, scraped and bruised but undeniably, completely you.

Kento dropped his phone back into his pocket and crossed the room in three great strides, lifting you into the air with the force of his embrace. Putting you down, huge warm hands patting you down all over, Kento checked you- scrapes, bruises, but whole, alive. A shaking sigh of relief escaped him. You stroked his cheek, the look of sweet concern in your eyes nearly bringing him to tears. You opened your mouth to speak, but Kento interrupted.

"Get home. Now. Call a taxi, charge it to my card." You opened your mouth again to argue, but Kento silenced you instantly. You felt a chill in your stomach, Kento looming over you, an unstoppable force, undeniably livid, but not with you.

"Don't argue with me. Go home, clean up. Eat. Lock the doors. I've got something I need to do, then I'll be home. And you're never coming back here again."

Kento left the room, leaving you in stunned silence. You hadn't even been able to greet him. Shaken up, you called for a taxi, and made your way outside. The corridor was already empty, Kento's footsteps fading away from you.

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"Principal Gakuganji?"

Yoshinobu Gakuganji sat in his office, a steaming cup of tea in front of him, and he is prickled instantly at the tone of the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Speaking."

"Good. I'd like you to listen very carefully." Cold seeped into Gakuganji's stomach as the man continued to talk.

"You, and yours, at Jujutsu Headquarters, approved two second-grade missions today. Neither of these missions, as it turns out, were second-grade appropriate, were they, Principal Gakuganji?"

Gakuganji's grip tightened on the phone. He knew this voice.

"Nanami-san? I suggest you think very carefully before saying anyth--"

"Oh no, Sir, I suggest you think very carefully. One second-grade sorcerer died today, and you should consider yourself extremely fortunate that my fiancée was not the one brought to the school in a body bag. Because the next body bag would have been yours."

Gakuganji stood, appalled at being spoken to like this.

"And before you ask yourself how I'd have the audacity to call you like this, I'd like you to consider: would you like me as your enemy, after you take from me the thing I love most in the world?"

Gakuganji had dropped the receiver now, staring at it like it had burned him.

He heard the voice at the end of the phone hum, pensively.

"I could be quite the Curse-user, you know."

A faint click as the call ended, and Gakuganji was left alone with Nanami Kento's threats and a lingering dial tone.

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You had been home just long enough to shower and pull on a dressing gown, worry clawing at your insides over the state you had found Kento in. His voice, cold and gravelly, had chilled you, and you needed him home and happy with you to feel certain you had done nothing wrong. Stomach roiling, you couldn't bring yourself to eat. The door clicked, and your heart leapt into your throat. Stepping into the hallway you found Kento, trousers and shoes coated in dried mud, jacket slung on the hooks by the door, tie already off and hanging from his pocket. You could feel the rage still rolling off him in waves and your hands went cold, pushing them round yourself and under your arms.

"...Kento? What's happened?"

Kento's jaw-clenched. He was quick to reassure you, "You've done nothing wrong. I'm not angry with you. I could never be."

You visibly relaxed, and Kento continued, "But you're never going back to that place. They don't care about you. Hand in your notice."

Filled with indignation, you began to argue back.

"You think you can order me to leave my job without an explanation? Please, Kento. I'm not a child."

"An explanation?" He spat, striding towards you now, "Here's your explanation. It has come to my attention that the higher-ups are routinely under-ranking Curses to send inappropriate sorcerers to manage them. You and Ino dealt with a First-grade Curse today, so congratulations to you, but another Second-grade sorcerer came to Shoko in a body bag today, unsuccessful."

You felt cold to the pit of your stomach. You had been convinced the Curse had been an innocent misclassification. You had been overwhelmed, your life very much on the line, and you and Ino had succeeded through luck and teamwork alone. Suddenly, you understood Kento's rage, but couldn't allow him to make rash decisions on your behalf. You inhaled deeply, and let out a shaking breath. Kento was inches from you, cursed energy bounding off him in hot pulses.

"Be that as it may, and we can address this so it doesn't happen again, I'm not leaving my job over thi--" Kento snarled at you, backing you into your bedroom now.

"This is what you want?" He inquired coldly, slamming the door behind him, "For me to bury you? Or, what's left of you? We only had half of Yuu's body, you know. I wonder, did they know that Curse was a First-grade?"

You continued to back away from Kento, unable to quell his rage, the backs of your knees bumping against the bed.

"Is that what this is about? What happened to Yuu? Kento, be reasonable--"

Kento's hand pressed over your mouth. "Enough," he rumbled, voice low and dangerous. You felt heat pool in your belly now, feeling the heat, anger and possessiveness radiating off him.

Kento removed his hand and tilted your chin forcefully up to him, crushing his lips to yours, so different to his usual tender kisses, and his hand slipped under your dressing gown, squeezing your breast hard. You mewled against Kento, pleading again for him to be reasonable--

"I am being reasonable," he purred at you, hands now undoing your dressing gown, stripping it off you, tossing it aside and leaving you naked and vulnerable in front of him, "because you and I both know I wouldn't want to live without you. Why do they deserve you more than I do?"

Kento spun you away from him, tossing you face down onto the bed. You gasped, opening your mouth again to tell Kento off, and as you began to lift yourself off the bed, you felt Kento's knee on the small of your back, forcing you down, and his hand over your mouth. Your breath hissed from your nose in surprise, and you felt Kento, powerful and completely immovable, caging you in.

"So if I am being reasonable, and we know I am, how else can I make you leave that place?" You felt his tongue on the back of your neck, licking a bold stripe up to your ear, before biting your earlobe a little too harshly. You mewled behind his hand again, growing wetter, pussy aching despite your indignation.

"How about I put a baby in you?" You squeaked in shock behind his hand, and he laughed dryly, "Come now. It's not like we haven't spoken about this. Would that be enough to take you off the battlefield?" You felt Kento palming himself through his trousers now, completely unhinged in his anger and desire to protect you, and heard the zip of his trousers, feeling his bare cock dropping, throbbing and huge between your thighs, wet with your arousal.

Kento hummed at you, prone and gagged by his hand beneath him, and slipped his length between the wetness of your thighs, groaning as you clamped them together in surprise. He began to slowly thrust into the tops of your thighs, groaning lowly and wettening his cock. He felt your panting breaths from your nose against his hand, rage still coursing through him at your refusal, his irrational mind placing your safety above all else.

You nearly fell apart at his next question, asked slowly, millimetres from your ear; "Should I be gentle?" A moment of hesitation from you, before you shook your head. Kento chuckled darkly- "Good. I wasn't going to be."

With no warning, Kento angled his cock upwards and thrust deeply into your prone body, instantly bottoming out, grunting with the pleasure. You squeaked behind his hand, arms reaching round instinctively to grab at Kento. Now your body was pinned completely by his, his other hand swiftly collected yours together and pressed them hard to the bed above your head.

You mewled and whimpered behind Kento's hand as he pounded into you relentlessly, owning you, marking you as his own with harsh lovebites to your neck that no amount of make-up would hide. You were dizzy from his pace, cockhead slamming against your cervix and sweet spot, now unmoving and completely succumbing to Kento, allowing yourself to be so used, as he panted and groaned above you.

Kento felt only a spark of guilt as he continued to bully his way into your pussy, feeling wholly justified in his rage, needing you to know how serious he was about keeping you home and safe.

His hand left your mouth to reach under your body, sliding between your folds and pinching your clit harshly, "Loud as you like now, my love." And Kento was rewarded with you gasping his name, before crying out like a song, music to his ears, and his pace picked up again, determined to hear you call his name again.

Your orgasm crashed into you with little warning, Kento's harsh ministrations on your pussy and clit rushing you through your orgasm rapidly to overstimulation, and you squirmed and writhed beneath him, only spurring him on more.

"Again," Kento ordered, growling into the back of your neck as within seconds, you cried his name out again, begging him now for relief.

Kento continued, and you lay spent as he continued to pound you into the mattress, pussy now fluttering weakly around him, and he reached under you, holding your lower belly as he came with a roar, holding you up to him as he spilled himself inside you. You panted, duvet tear stained beneath your eyes, and Kento pulled out to a whimper from you. He appraised his work, using his fingers to push drips of his cum back inside your pussy.

You lay in silence as Kento dropped back onto his knees, head tipped back and cracking his neck from side to side.

"Alright," he spoke slowly, as you laughed into the mattress at his strange duality, "we can talk about it now."

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Love you all, MWAH

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c-0-rr-x · 2 months

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“hm hello? do you need help?” yuuji approached the lady walking the hallways so slowly she seemed lost.

“huh?” you turned and he smiled, thinking how gorgeous you looked. your uniform was a lot like nobara’s, although it was lighter, like it was slightly bleached or just worn a lot, “no, i… i go here.”

“oh are you gojo-sensei’s student too?” he was excited to meet another student, it was such a big school for just a few people.

“gojo… sensei” you repeated confused.

“oh you must be utahime-sensei’s student then? from kyoto?” he tilted his head, like a puppy.

“utahime…” you whispered, “is geto here?” you asked with a certain urgency in your voice, “geto suguru.”

“who? geto?” he scratched his head, trying to remember if he heard about a sensei called geto suguru, “i don’t think i—“

“itadori!” megumi called from outside, yuuji saw him die below through the open windows of the second floor he was at, his classmate probably saw him as well.

“ah fushiguro!” he greeted his friend and turned back to you, “i’ll ask megumi, he’s been here for longer than me.”

“who you talking to?!” megumi shouted.

“her!” he pointed, you were in front of him, right by the opened window too, he couldn’t see you?

megumi even moved a bit, “itadori, there’s no one there. stop playing, we got to leave!” megumi scolded him before entering the building.

“eh?” yuuji was frowning.

“sorry, i think i’m in the wrong place” you bowed and turned away running.

“wait!” he ran after you, turning corners he thought you could’ve gone but after a few ones he reached a dead end.

“hm? yuuji?” gojo emerged from a classroom.

“gojo-sensei! there was… someone…” he looked around.

“oi, we’re waiting for you, let’s go” megumi came from where he was, grabbing yuuji by the hood of his uniform and dragging him away.

gojo watched through a window as they walked down the staircase until both boys walked out of the building.

“that was weird” you murmured from inside the classroom he was in, “that boy called you sensei” you put more rice into your hungry mouth, “does yaga know you’re pretending to be a teacher here?”

satoru closed the door, lighting another incense on the table that you used to sit. where every year on the anniversary of your death he built a shrine with food you liked.

“i thought haibara was in a mission but i saw him by the tree” you pointed behind you with your chopsticks, where, outside the classroom and behind the building remained the tree you always had lunch underneath during hot summer days.

he undid the blindfold, letting his hair fall as he sat in front of you, admiring how you never aged a day. after all, you couldn’t.

in fact, it seemed like you didn’t realize how much time has passed. every year you appeared and every year you thought it was still 2006, when you had two kouhais that did everything you asked, a girl best friend that insisted you smoked with her and two boys that were helplessly in love with you. the last year you were alive.

“is suguru not coming?” you asked with your mouth full.

gojo swallowed hard, “no, angel. it’s just us.”

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c-0-rr-x · 2 months

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Deadly Nightshade

A Suguru Geto "sex pollen" fic.

Suguru swallows an aphrodisiac curse, and finds the reader when his entanglement becomes too much to bear.

Warnings: *MONSTERFUCKING*, Loss of control (Suguru), rough but consensual, throat-fucking, Suguru's cursed technique...but sexy, tentacle shibari, cum as cure

(AU!Adult Suguru who never left Jujutsu High timeline)

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"Will be late home. It's a big one. Go to sleep without me, baby. You'll be tired."

Suguru finished tapping, looking up to the abandoned industrial site with wary interest, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He felt beckoned into this concrete jungle in a way he found unsettling; the Curse was clearly disguising its true potential, hiding in plain sight...but calling in back-up (likely Nanami or Higuruma at this time of day) would only put them at risk. And, they were tired.

With an internal spiteful sting at having lost his evening with you, which Suguru suppressed, black eyes flat and expressionless, he stepped onwards into the plunging lush foliage and exposed steel beams.

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Suguru's apologetic text filled you with disappointed longing. Loneliness and worry quashed your appetite. All your hopes and plans for a soft, touch-filled evening curled up on the sofa with him, were wiped.

Sighing, lovelorn and resigned, you took yourself to bed, your face snuffled into Suguru's pillow and the soft-spiced smell of him, to lull you into sleep.

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Suguru staggered through the door, leaning back to close it, gasping, sweating, clawing his jacket and shirt off his body. He burned from within, like the nine circles of hell.

After swallowing the curse, the roiling forest had disappeared with it...but Suguru soon felt its many limbs stretching within him, caressing the deepest parts of him, blighting him with this ungodly pain--

--no...not pain, Suguru thought vaguely, now naked except for his hakama, beads of sweat dripping from chest to belly as he teetered towards the bathroom. White-knuckled hands clasped the sink-- Suguru caught himself in the mirror, ripples of desire thrumming through him with every frantic beat of his heart, his raven hair free of its tie and framing febrile eyes--

Suguru retched, his shoulders heaving with exertion, retching again, his rigid cock crushed against his thigh as he collapsed forwards, seeping pre-cum and shaking and moaning, thinking of you in your bed you in your bed you in your bed--

Out of control I'm out of control got to take it back got to--

Something in Suguru snapped.

The lights flickered out one by one, from bathroom to corridor, as an eldritch forest clawed its way back out of him.

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You awoke in a fever dream, your sigh condensing and hanging heavy and humid in the earthy hushhushhush of a tropical forest, teeming with life.

What a strange dream, you thought. You did not notice how this set you apart from true dreamers, who would not find anything unusual about waking on a bed of moss and monstera. The duvet felt warm and springy with foliage beneath your fingertips, your toes, your body.

You had slept, and these uncanny tropics had grown up around you. Not one surface was free of queerly animated vines, yawning tropical flowers, and thick verdant leaves. Unable to see where one room began and another ended, your little home suddenly stretched for miles and closed in on you all at once.

You stepped gingerly off the bed, your feet settling on dewy leaves, splitting the fine low mist that clouded there. As you stepped to the doorway, you did not feel the hissing black tendrils, more creature of the deep than plant, that reached longingly after your feet.

Led only by curious patches of bioluminescence, eerie and golden, you moved to the living room, blinking, certain you were ill. A familiar voice, soft and dangerous, came forth from the shadows.

"You're awake. Good. I'd have fucked you while you slept, but they wanted you squirming."

With a gasp and a cry, you felt yourself become intangibly bound and suspended, feeling the rush of smooth tendrils snaking around your chest and bare thighs, wrists and ankles. Wrists tied behind your back, and legs folded up until your heels touched the backs of your thighs, your legs spread, you hung at face level to Suguru, who stalked out from a patch of hazy light.

Suguru had always held a haunting grace, a soft, untouchable masculinity, an unwavering abstract sensitivity. But, approaching you now, his black eyes were flat, sharklike, predatory. He had not hunted you, but had, instead, waited for you on the outskirts of his web.

In only his hakama, fine black tendrils tattooed his skin, animating him as he panted, desperate and sweating. The tendrils seemed to be soothing him, stroking, constantly moving over his rigid cock, his chest, his throat. As your own tendrils began to offshoot from the black wet-velvet vines that bound you, creeping under your clothes, circling round your nipples and creeping towards your core, a whimper broke free from your throat.

"Shhhhh, shh, shh, I need you wet if you're gonna do this for me, sweetheart."

Suguru stepped to you as if you catch your voice in his hands, sliding one finger into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. He shivered in contrary to the inferno inside him, gripping his weeping cock with a roughened moan. As Suguru stroked your tongue, he reached down to undo his hakama, letting the coiling vines pull them from his body.

Suguru pressed against you now, lifting your top so he could rut his weeping cock against your belly, still examining your mouth with his fingers. You felt them tremble against your tongue. The last shreds of your Suguru were the only thing holding him back from taking you with bruising force. The vines coiled through your top, your underwear, shredding, removing, until you were naked, suspended, entwined.

Suguru's black eyes feasted on you, one hand stroking his cock with an iron grip, pre-cum wetting his fingers, and the other hand grazing over you, stroking the peaks of your breasts, your ribs, slipping between your puffy lips to see how ready you were for him. Carnal instinct took over, and he pressed himself back against you, his cock leaping in his hand.

Suguru shivered again, skin to skin with you. He knew, instinctively, that the itch at the base of his skull would not-- could not-- become dormant until he had completely spent himself inside you.

"You know I wouldn't ask more of you than I know you can take," Suguru cooed, soft and persuasive against your lips. You felt a tendril slip over your mound, slipping between your wet folds and coiling snugly around your clit, massaging it, rolling it. You mewled into Suguru's mouth, and he swallowed it down hungrily, kissing your sighs and whimpers off your lips.

"Oh fuck, baby-- you feel so wet--"

With a jolt, you realised that Suguru's hands clasped you by the hips, nowhere near your core.

"You can't feel tha-- how can you--" Suguru bit your lip, punishingly hard and you squeaked as the tendril that pleasured you so tenderly squeezed your clit in reprimand, simultaneously.

"They're mine," Suguru hissed, "just like every godforsaken curse I swallow," and he pulled you lower so your core settled on his cockhead, the vines acting in symbiosis with him to drag your thighs apart, "just like you're mine. And you'll help me...won't you?"

You felt a thicker tendril snake up the inside of your thigh, ghosting at your entrance. With savage force and a growl of warning, Suguru ripped it aside, pressing his cockhead inside you just enough to prevent any other intrusions.

Suguru's orgasm hit him with obscene force and he collapsed into you, stuttering his hips just once, before cumming with a shout, his seed spattering into your entrance and puffy lips, dripping down your bound thighs in thick white streams. Suguru's moans elongated into staccato whimpers, before descending into a hiss of unbridled rage.

"That did fucking nothing," he growled, tangling his fingers into your hair, yanking your head to the side, sinking his sharp canines into the front of your throat. His cockhead still leapt just inside you, spurting weak trickles of cum, and Suguru almost cried to feel absolutely no relief from the burning need throbbing through his body.

You felt the vines squeeze around you, your nipples clamped and rolled until tears filled your eyes with ethereal blurred lights. Suguru reached his long arms behind you, grasping the tops of your shoulders to slam you down against him, impaling you, gasping and wildly overstimulated, onto his cum-lubricated cock.

The tendril rolling and flicking over your clit picked up speed, and you came, twisting against your restraints, crying Suguru's name. Suguru stared hungrily down to where he bottomed out in your pussy, watching and feeling it clench around his cock with shuddering bliss.

As the tendrils continued to work on your nipples and clit, your pleasure becoming frantic and painful, making you squirm and pull away from them, Suguru landed a stinging slap to your arse.

"Fucking take it. What good are you if you can't milk this thing out of me? More." Suguru lifted you just once, cruelly slamming you down again, warning you against your squirming, needing beyond need for you to clench around him again.

"Suguru-- please-- it's too much--" Your needy cries broke off into agonal gasps as you came again and Suguru's head dropped back, jaw slack as he felt your pussy clench and contract, sucking cum from him, surely enough to relieve him, surely--

"No, I-- no--" he panted, his eyes frantic, watching his seed leak out of you, now floppy and malleable in your corseting vines. Digging both hands into his hair, scratching at his own scalp, then moving his fingertips to his tongue to suck them with a ragged groan, Suguru grasped at straws for any stimulation to purge him of this monstrous need.

As he gripped himself, clutching and agonised, his eyes feverish, you could only moan stunted little moans as the vines around you lifted and dropped you, thrusting you savagely onto Suguru's length, still impossibly hard. You leaned forwards, kissing Suguru with urgency, trying to claw him back to you as his vines fucked you against him. He nipped at you, biting, no longer the gentle man you knew.

"Not hard enough-- shit, you can-- can do better than that--"

Finding some strength again, Suguru's hands dropped to your hips, kneading the plush fat there, trying to squeeze you around him, and he added to the strength of his vines, lifting and slamming you back onto him.

So lost were you both in chasing his release, neither of you noticed the forest around you gradually withering, fading and dying. The bioluminescence waxed and waned, throwing strange, marionette shadows around the room.

You were thankful for the embrace of the vines, unable to count how many times you had peaked from the constant stimulation of vines, masturbating you while Suguru kept your cunt and belly constantly filled. Suguru gasped and murmured into your neck, all unintelligible, unreasonable demands of you, and pleas for release.

As Suguru came with a ragged cry again, filling your aching pussy to the sound of wet, squelching thrusts, you felt the tendrils around your breasts and clit wither away, leaving your buds swollen and tender.

Suguru could barely stand, supported by a few remaining vines, still staring into you, so hungry but so spent. You felt him pull his cock out of you, dripping with his own seed, and you cried out to feel his cock replaced by a thick-tipped vine, pressing against your cervix, shunting his seed up into your belly.

Suguru's eyes rolled back to feel this bizarre vicarious pleasure, lazily letting the vine thrust his cum back into you, as the others twisted you, tilting so your back was parallel to the floor, your head tipped back, mouth level with his cock, still so red and aching.

"Is your throat tighter than your pussy?" Suguru pondered aloud, drunk and swaying with divine ecstasy as he fingered the sides of your jaw, slapping his cockhead against your lips and tongue. When you stuck out your tongue invitingly, swiping its tip across Suguru's slit, he gasped, shuddering and gritting his teeth.

"Let's find out," Suguru hissed, sliding his cock into your mouth, letting you taste your combined arousal, before thrusting with an injured moan into your throat, squeezing you, feeling the ridges of his cock move inside you as you gagged around him.

Pulling out enough to let you breathe, Suguru gripped you by the head and neck, grunting as he rutted into you, his pleasure doubled by his vine fucking his cum back into your pussy. Suguru's eyes fixed, fascinated, on the wet slip of this extra appendage inside you, how you reflexively humped against it as if it was his cock, how you mewled and whimpered at its intrusive tenderness.

As you twitched and shuddered, convulsing with overstimulation, Suguru came for the last time in a soundless gasp, his knees almost buckling beneath him as wave after wave of please rolled through him, washing away the dreadful, burning itch running through his brain and spine, leaving him exhausted, but finally un-fogged, finally in control.

With little warning, you were released from your bounds, and Suguru caught you, cradling you against him, and lowering you with a fractured groan to the floor. He sunk onto you, his mouth on your neck in prayer, kissing and soothing, blessing you with his relief.

"Would've died," he insisted, kissing your hair, your eyes, your nose, spooning you against him as the last remnants of this unwelcome forest embered away, rising like ashes on rising heat to fade into the night, "would've died-- died if you hadn't--"

You shushed Suguru, plaiting his fingers with yours across your chest as he shivered and heaved against you.

"Not...not your fault," you yawned, leaning into his kisses, "but like I keep telling you...you can't eat all of your problems away." Suguru laughed softly, nuzzling you.

"No...can fuck them away though, apparently."

Sticky and intertwined together on the floor, Suguru surveyed the cracked floorboards, the walls rended by vines, and trickles of damp running down from the ceiling. Lips puckering in dread against your neck, Suguru whispered.

"What, uhm...what do we tell the home insurance company?"

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By far the most unhinged thing I've ever written. I'll see myself out.

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c-0-rr-x · 3 months

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Choso gets so lost in the feeling of your pussy that he fucks you till he can’t stop. Tears rolling down his face with his head buried into your neck. The man whimpering and moaning shakily as he neared yet another orgasm.

“Ahh.. Choso baby. G- give.. nngh- give y-yourself a break.”

He shook his head, his thrusts loud and sloppy as he desperately rut into you. His breathing speeding up as he let out an uncontrollable string of whiny cries. “C-can’t!” his voice went up a pitch. “Your pussy, nngh- your pussy, o-oh fuck your pussy feels s-so,” a loud mewl. “so fu..ckkking good.”

Choso pressed his lips onto yours. Messily deepening the kiss as his tears dripped into your cheeks. “Nngh- cummin’! Cummin’ so hard— ‘s so good— so.. so- haah.” burying himself deep into you as he came. Pumping his biggest load into your overly filled cunt.

“More.” he breathed, not giving himself a chance to calm down before fucking into you once more. His hips snapping forward into your tight heat as his cum leaked out of you in spurts. Broken moans leaving his mouth every time you clenched down on his overly sensitive tip. “Wanna- nngh— wanna breed this pussy for..ever, f-fuck.” Barely able to keep himself up as he chased another painfully delicious high.

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c-0-rr-x · 4 months

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Let's get one thing straight, Sukuna didn't kill Gojo on his own. He had plot armour on his side. Gege literally hated Gojo, hence Sukuna got all the advantages i.e. Mahoraga. Without that Mahoraga, Sukuna can't do sh¡t against Gojo. And now if Gojo doesn't come back(I am 99%sure he isn't coming back) that would be because Gege wants to mock Gojo's fanbase, because imo that afterlife scenes gave away some hint that he(Gojo) might return. But if Gege never intended his return then, that simply implies that he just wanted to mock fans by giving them false hope and then snatching it away from them!

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c-0-rr-x · 4 months

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you so fucking crazy, i think i wanna have your babies😩

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c-0-rr-x · 4 months

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I identify as the rabbits

#need him to grab and bite me like that #daddy toji

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c-0-rr-x · 4 months

Text

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Living in Japan, you were used to people’s negative perceptions of your tattoos. An old man giving you a world-class stink-eye was more common than rain on a cloudy day, and those views were only compounded by the insular Jujutsu Sorcerer society you found yourself working in….. But what would the famous 7:3 Sorcerer think?

Pairing: Nanami Kento x afab!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ minors DNI)

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Brief canon-typical violence, brief hurt/comfort, smut, inappropriate use of a cursed technique, you know what you're here for

A/N: Major thanks to @pseudowho for being so wonderful and encouraging. You should all go read her brilliant fics if you haven't yet!!

Click here to join my re-vamped taglist!

You hadn’t officially met the 7:3 Sorcerer until you were assigned a very lengthy mission together. Still, as soon as you started to learn about him from others at Jujutsu High, you knew your tattoos had to stay hidden at all costs.

Gojo, a man world-famous for understating things, had described Nanami as “a bit of a grump sometimes,” and you had even seen poor Ijichi nearly in tears at the thought of disappointing the severe blonde. So, in other words, you were right fucked. At the very least, you planned to hide the tattoos so you could make it through the next few weeks without aggravating your partner every time he laid eyes on you.

You saw Nanami briefly on the day before your mission, and the suited man cut such a clean, no-nonsense figure that you were certain of two things. First, he would absolutely hate the ink on your skin. Second, you’d simply pass away from embarrassment if the achingly handsome man ever had a negative remark about the sentimental art.

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t even bat an eye at someone’s poor opinion of you- actually, you’d probably respond with a cheeky grin and a crude gesture- but Nanami was different. He was respected and loved by so many other sorcerers despite his serious nature, and he was infuriatingly attractive. No man had ever been more your type; at some point, you considered going to a shrine to interrogate the gods about when they read your grade-school diary because Kento was the golden-haired prince of your dreams.

Thankfully, it was the middle of winter, and all the forecasts called for was endless snow.

“Even the weather is on my side,” you murmured cheerfully as you packed for the mission, dutifully shoving every long-sleeved shirt and pair of pants you owned into your small suitcase. Everything was in place, and you had accounted for every possibility… or so you thought.

– (time skip) –

The driving, snow-laden wind stung your face as you sprinted toward the last curse, sword in hand. You could barely feel your lips or fingers, chilled to the bone and beyond exhausted, but this was the last one. The pitiful creature that skittered across the snow in front of you was the only curse left standing. It kept you from a warm bath and a strong drink back at the hotel, and if you let it get away now, you’d never catch up to it again after the storm.

“C’mon… just a little bit more,” you bargained with your aching body, groaning inwardly as the curse seemed to gain more ground.

The heavy snowfall muffled every sound and drastically reduced your visibility. Some small voice in your head screamed for caution, for you to go slower, but it was wholly overshadowed by your need to be warm again as fast as possible. Weirdly enough, that small voice sounded exactly like Nanami’s.

Suddenly, the curse tripped with a yelp, and you pounced on it with feline grace, ready to finish it off. A sickening crack rang through the air the instant you sank your blade into its body. You looked in horror as the ice underneath the curse shattered, revealing a roiling abyss of water below.

“Shit!” You screamed and dropped your sword, latching onto the ice's edge as the curse sank in a silent struggle.

It fell out of sight as your gloved hands slid on the ice, the loss of purchase sending your body further into the glacial water. You whimpered in pain, almost daring to believe that any second help would arrive- that Nanami would be next to you. Darkness swam in your vision, and your pain seemed to dull. You fought to keep awake, dimly aware that sleep meant never waking up again.

“N-Nanami, p-please… Help...” You begged into the uncaring snow.

Suddenly, a strong force grabbed your arm and hauled you out of the frosty water, picking you up almost effortlessly. You instinctively buried your face into your savior’s warmth and were rewarded with the deep, spiced notes of Nanami’s cologne.

You tried to mumble something, but the blonde sorcerer quickly hushed you, “No, save your strength. You have to stay awake. Promise me that you’ll stay awake.”

You couldn’t miss the panic in his voice as your eyes fluttered shut.

–

*Warm…. Content… Safe….*

It felt like liquid sunshine had been poured into your veins, thawing every inch of your frozen body. You were curled against something large and warm… Something that smelled wonderful.

Nanami’s hushed voice washed over you, thick and slow like warm honey, “How are you feeling?”

You slowly opened your eyes, and your heart immediately jumped into your throat. Your body was pressed against Nanami’s, your head tucked into the soft crook of his neck as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His bare, muscular chest was pushed directly against your plush breasts, his skin radiating pure warmth as the scent of his cologne made your head fuzzy.

With that image now firmly seared into your brain, it took another second for the rest of your thoughts to process. The first was good news: you were alive unless the afterlife was identical to your hotel room. But the second…. Well, maybe drowning wouldn’t have been too bad because you couldn’t feel that you had any clothes on.

“Nanami?” As you spoke, your voice sounded panicked and far away, almost distorted to your ears. “Where are my- what happened?”

His head shifted slightly against yours. You couldn’t see his face, but Nanami sounded as uncomfortable as you felt. “I needed to get your body temperature back up… Shoko once told me that skin-to-skin contact was the best way to prevent hypothermia.”

You weren’t sure if you should slap the Doctor or send her a bottle of liquor as he continued, “I did my best to respect your privacy, but it was necessary. I apologize.”

Nanami’s apology sounded so blunt and detached that it stung. Your face burned at the thought of him undressing you, immediately replaced with a feeling of growing horror. Surely, he couldn’t have missed all the tattoos as he removed your clothes?

“Oh god… He must think I’m disgusting.”

Your thoughts and insecurities began to pile up as you lay in his arms, silent and stewing in your mortification. The two of you had grown vaguely close in the past two weeks- close enough to have dropped most honorifics and pretenses with each other. Outside the mission, the two of you had spent time idly chatting about life, and you’d developed a comfortable routine around each other. You had even almost worked up the courage to ask him out for coffee when the mission was over.

Nanami spoke again, disrupting your thoughts, his voice tentative beneath a forced layer of calm. “I can close my eyes and let you dress if you feel up to it.”

You could only nod worldlessly as your face burned red in embarrassment. His arms dropped away from your back to untangle the layers of blankets that sandwiched you two together, and you bit back a groan of protest.

“Alright, you’re good to get up.”

Nanami rolled over, facing the opposite wall. You winced at the sting of cold air as you slipped out of bed and away from him, quickly noticing that the only light in the room was from two large candles and the fireplace. Another groan fell from your lips, “Don’t tell me the power is out.”

“Unfortunately,” came the curt reply. “The storm dropped enough snow to block the roads and cut off the power.

“We better get some fucking hazard pay for this,” you swore quietly.

Nanami was silent for another minute; under any other circumstance, your comment might’ve made him chuckle, “I set out some clothes for you. They’re thicker than the ones you brought.”

You opened your mouth to argue but instantly shut it. You knew he was right. The black pajama set you favored was cute and long-sleeved but made of thin material.

“If you’re sure.” You sighed in resignation as you dug through your own bag for socks and underwear. The only two things you had left were a cotton thong and a pair of thick winter socks with bears stitched on them. You committed to your fate, slipping on the sweatpants and blue thermal shirt Nanami had set to the side before turning back around.

As soon as you did, another image permanently seared itself into your brain. Nanami lay on his side, hair mussed from its usual neat style, and you were treated to a mouthwatering view of his muscular back. His skin glistened, reflecting the flickering firelight, and your mouth went dry. It was all too easy to think about him looking like this after a more intimate activity.

“W-what will you wear?” You managed to force the sentence out.

“I have the pair of pants I’m currently wearing, but you have my last shirt.” Nanami paused momentarily. The usually self-assured sorcerer was oddly hesitant as he spoke again, more quietly this time. “I hope it won’t bother you.”

You stared at the back of his head incredulously. “You? Bothering me? Nanami, you just held my naked body for I don’t even know how long to keep me from freezing to death. You’ve seen what’s all over my skin. I probably disgust you now, and you’re worried about bothering me?”

Nanami froze mid-breath, turning to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling. You couldn’t see the expression on his face in the low light, but you could feel intensity rolling off him in waves. “You really think that I’m disgusted by you?”

You clap a hand over your mouth, cursing yourself for letting that slip. “I-I don’t- I mean, I don’t want you to be…”

Your voice felt thick, your mouth dry like it had been stuffed with cotton as you covered your eyes and wished you could magically disappear into the ground. You were so distracted that you didn’t notice Nanami slide out of bed and cross the room.

A gentle pressure suddenly appeared on your shoulder, and you looked up, jumping slightly as Nanami’s warm coffee-colored eyes gazed into yours, his hand firmly gripping your shoulder.

“I’m not.” His voice was rough and strained. “I could never be…. Fuck, you have no idea, do you?”

You blinked slowly, the look on your face akin to a deer caught in the headlights. Nanami squeezed your shoulder to emphasize his next point, “I have spent the last few hours pointedly trying to ignore how beautiful I think you are.”

“But…”

Nanami held up a single finger, a motion for you to wait. He removed his hand from your shoulder and extended his arm for you to see the black ink nestled against his inner bicep. “Believe me more now?”

Your gaze washed over the neat, tidy lettering. The tattoo was Roman numerals- a date? You raised your hand slowly, gently tracing your fingertips along the lines as if entranced. Nanami shuddered at your touch.

“Careful, now.” He warned. “I can’t do much more of this.”

“Hm?” You stepped back to give him a bit more space, but your eyes were instantly drawn to the massive bulge in his sweatpants, the outline of his erection clear against the fabric.

“I have been trying to be a good man. I have been trying to be a considerate mission partner.” Nanami sighed tersely, his muscles flexing in the dim light as he reached up to push his golden hair away from his face. “I told myself that having a- a crush on a mission partner was juvenile and unprofessional…”

A slight blush crossed the usually stern man’s face. “I wanted to ask you to dinner after we returned- to do this properly…. but when I started taking off your clothes and found…”

His sentence trailed off as he gestured up and down your body, and your heart lurched.

“You found?” You questioned softly, almost not daring to believe your ears.

“You’re a work of art,” Nanami murmured. “I need to know if I’m making you uncomfortable… the last thing I want is for you to feel forced into anyth-”

He didn’t get to finish before your soft lips collided with his. Your eyes fluttered shut at the taste of him, savoring it. Nanami’s hands instantly returned to your body to pull you in even closer. He held you closely as if you were the most important thing in the world, and you melted against him, sighing gently.

“No, you’re not.” You whispered against his lips. “I feel the same way about you.”

His large, battle-calloused hand cupped your face with heartwrenching tenderness. Nanami’s thumb caressed the swell of your lower lip before he tilted your head back so he could look into your eyes. The tender, intimate gesture pulled a quiet sigh from you, and Nanami chuckled, a low, rich sound you felt in your bones.

“What do you want from me right now, beautiful girl?”

His gaze was intense and magnetic as it drew you in, causing desire to blossom in your lower body. Its electric tendrils wound throughout your veins at the sound of Nanami’s rich voice. You were usually so outspoken and confident, but this damned man made your head swim.

He stroked your cheek again, “I need you to use your words. Can you do that for me?”

Another sharp pang of arousal pierced your heart and fell straight through your core like a shooting star. “I want you, Nanami. I-I want to have sex with you. I want more than that, but right now…..please.”

You trailed off, acutely aware of how your pussy subtly ached and fluttered at your own words. It begged for attention, the small scrap of cotton underwear you wore already damp with arousal. Nanami’s small smile turned into a rather roguish grin, voice rough and low. “Good girl. Let me take care of you.”

Nanami’s praise forced another whimper from your lips as he pulled you flush against him. One of your hands splayed against his chest, the other tangled into his fine hair. He captured your lips in a searing kiss; you felt the thick strain of his erection press against you so insistently, even through the layers of fabric you both still wore.

With one swift motion, Nanami swept you up and off your feet. You wrapped your legs around his waist, keening as you rocked your aching pussy against his cock, forcing a hiss from the usually stoic man.

“Too many clothes,” you whined, drawing another short laugh from your lover.

“As much as I want to see more of your lovely body, we’ve gotta keep you warm, pretty girl.” Nanami cooed, nipping at your bottom lip. He pressed kisses down the column of your neck as he pulled your hips down, encouraging you to grind against him again. “Fuck, that’s it.”

You swore you could cum just like this, humping his clothed cock like a desperate schoolgirl eager for her first fuck. The friction between your bodies moved the seam of your panties against your swollen clit, making you cry out. His lips returned to devour your cries of pleasure, your kiss becoming desperate, filled with tongue and teeth.

“‘Nami, please…. not like this. Wanna cum on your fingers.” you beg, unable to stop yourself from chasing your rapidly approaching orgasm, despite your plea.

Nanami growled, swiftly crossing the room to deposit you on the edge of the bed. “No, I’m going to taste you first. You’re going to cum on my tongue.”

You sobbed, both from his sinful words and from the loss of his body against yours, as Nanami hooked a finger into the waistband of your sweats. He slid them down and threw them across the room unceremoniously, causing you to giggle.

That same giggle quickly turned into a wanton moan as his thick finger reached down to ghost over the scrap of cotton that barely covered your pussy from his gaze. Your legs fell open, begging him for more, and Nanami tsk’d softly, his legendary impatience flaring to life.

Through the heady haze of your lust, you felt Nanami’s fingers hook through your underwear in two different spots. His cursed energy flashed, and his fingers tore through the material like it wasn’t ever there.

“Nanami Kent-!” You didn’t get the chance to finish chastising him before he knelt with predatory grace, cupped either side of your hips, and pulled your hips closer. He licked a fat stripe through your glistening folds, and your head fell back against the bedsheets; the last syllable of his name instantly turned to a cry of ecstasy.

He chuckled again, lazily dragging his tongue along the same path before pressing a light kiss to your clit, “I’ll buy you more,” he murmured, “Needed to taste you.”

You whined as Nanami grazed your clit, the pressure enough to tease but not enough for true satisfaction. He spread you open with his fingers and watched in desperate fascination as your pussy seemed to beg for him, soaked and clenching around nothing. Your back arched off the bed as Nanami took the small bud between his lips and sucked.

He growled in approval, the sensual timbre of his voice traveling through your body and causing your cunt to clench again, “So perfect.”

Nanami held you firmly in place with his arms as he continued his blissfully torturous assault on your body. He alternated between sucking your clit and thrusting his tongue into your core, feasting on you with abandon like he needed your taste to live. Every so often, his nose tapped against your swollen clit, and you saw stars.

You moaned his name as Nanami’s clever fingers traced your opening, and you nearly cried as one thick digit fully slipped inside. He moved the finger experimentally, completely entranced by the way your velvet walls fluttered around him, begging him to stay inside you.

“Need to cum…. please.” You sob, desperately trying not to wrap your legs around his head and hold him in place forever.

“You’re doing so well for me- so fucking beautiful.” Nanami praised roughly and slipped another finger into you, scissoring them and stretching your walls experimentally. Your back arched off the bed again as he leaned down to tongue your clit at the same time. His fingers caressed your g-spot insistently; stars danced in your vision, and the arousal in your body all coalesced into one aching, burning knot.

“It- it’s too much… Nanami, nnnnguh ‘m gonna-”

Your sentence broke off into a desperate, airy whine as Nanami sucked your swollen clit between his lips once more, sending you over the edge of a mind-shattering orgasm. His hands stroked the inked skin of your hips, and you sobbed his name as he greedily lapped up the cum from your soaked folds. You gazed between your legs and watched, enraptured, as Nanami slowly stood and licked your cum off of his fingers.

“Absolutely delicious,” He groaned appreciatively at the taste, and you whimpered in response; the sight was easily one of the most arousing things you’d ever seen. You rubbed your thighs together, wholly lost to desire, the movement shifting the blue thermal you still wore even higher up your body. The fabric moved against your pert nipples, giving them enough friction to tease.

You tipped your head back as you rolled one of your nipples between your fingers with a practiced flourish, and Nanami’s impossibly hard cock twitched at the sight. If you were more lucid, you’d have seen that he was just as affected by the show you put on. The sight of you toying with your plush breasts, wearing only his shirt, half your tattoos clearly visible, and nipples strained against the fabric … If he were a weaker man, he’d have already cum while still in his pants.

“You put on such a pretty show ‘f me,” Nanami murmured as he slipped a hand into the band of his sweatpants, his gaze heavy-lidded, content to watch you play for a moment. However, you had other ideas. You flashed a coy, lust-addled smile and reached your foot out, tucking it next to his hand to gently tug at the waistband, a clear signal for the pants to come off.

“So impatient,” He chuckled roughly, instantly complying with your demand. Finally, you were treated to the view you’d been dreaming about. Nanami stood before you, completely nude and almost painfully aroused. A trail of neatly groomed, honey-blonde hair led down his toned abdomen, guiding your eyes to his deliciously hard cock. It was long, with a prominent vein that ran down the side to disappear before it met the thick, swollen tip.

You spread your legs invitingly, and Nanami crawled between them, the bed dipping under his added weight. He stroked his cock experimentally, hissing as he traced the tip through your warm folds before kissing the tip to your clit. You whimpered at the lewd, wet sounds, your pussy fluttering desperately every time his swollen tip circled your entrance.

“Please, Nanami….” You meweled, hips rocking involuntarily against him. He needed no further encouragement to slide into your warmth; Nanami hissed and groaned, slowly pushing into you, fighting the urge to just slam his cock inside your core. You took him in deeper, inch by agonizing inch, until his swollen cockhead kissed your cervix, and you sobbed in ecstasy.

With another low growl, Nanami rocked his hips slowly, watching you fall apart at the unhurried drag of his cock against your velvet walls. “Like that, pretty girl?”

You babbled and whined complete nonsense, biting and kissing into his shoulder as Nanami began to thrust his hips at a faster pace, enraptured by the pearly ring of your combined fluids that coated the base of his cock. In mere moments, he was drilling into you with ruthless efficiency, the room filled with the pornographic sounds of your lovemaking.

Every one of Nanami’s thrusts sent an electric shockwave of pleasure through your body, and you rocked your hips against him, desperately chasing another orgasm. You wrapped your legs up and around his waist, shifting your hips slightly, and his cock hit even deeper.

“Good girl… Good fucking girl,” he growled as your hips ground against each other. “Taking me so well... Cum for me one more time- shit, I need to feel you cum on my cock.”

Your nails dug into his back and arms desperately as the tight coil inside you built and built until it shattered completely. Sparks of blinding white flashed in your vision as your orgasm burned through like wildfire, and your pussy clenched around him desperately. Moments later, Nanami came with a look of sheer bliss on his face. Ropes of his warm cum coated your walls, stuffing you and giving you a feeling of delicious fullness.

A few minutes passed in blissful silence as you both caught your breath. Nanami made no real move to pull out, and you weren't complaining. Instead, he simply maneuvered into a lying position, pulling you close with his cock still buried deep inside you.

“It’ll help you stay warm tonight,” he murmured lovingly, tucking all the blankets back into place around your intertwined bodies.

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