青い棘

he could've had any woman he wanted, he was a god after all. back then women just didn't interest him. even today he didn't ever find himself particularly attracted to anyone, that was until he met you.

what was it about you?

it honestly frustrated him to no end, he could never quite figure out what it was about you that drove him crazy. by the time you had entered into the culling game he had already garnered 200 points, using 100 of them to add a rule to access player information.

kashimo had set up base for himself in the tokyo bay area and would pick fights with anyone who tried to get past him. the endless search for a thrilling fight was becoming boring, he yearned for a challenge. someone who could finally push back at him and stand a bit of a chance.

his bright cyan hair caught your attention, even from a distance. you watched him, keeping mental notes of how he fought and trying to figure out the best time to attack.

unfortunately for you, kashimo had noticed you too. he saw the way you clung to the shadows when he roamed the area. it was almost like a game to him, he slowly began to creep closer and closer to where you had been hiding. he never quite reached your hiding spot but he could sense the way your heart started pounding when he was near.

"kogane, tell me about the player hiding above the bridge who's been watching me for weeks."

shit. he'd seen you. he's known this whole time.

your breath caught in your throat as you listened to kogane rattle off your details.

player name: y/n l/n colony: tokyo colony number 2 number of points: 184 number of rules added: 0

184 points? who is this person?

kashimo's brain was scrambling for an explanation. he was under the impression that you hadn't been a player for long, but how did you have almost as many points as him? you'd been spending your time stalking him. surely he would've seen you kill enough players to gain 184 points.

since your cover had been blown you decided it was finally time to approach him. you'd spent weeks analyzing the way he fought, but you couldn't push away the nervous feeling that had settled in your stomach. there was no denying he was strong, plus he had 200 points.

if you were being completely honest with yourself... hajime kashimo was incredibly attractive. his bright blue hair, deadly charming grin, and the way he acted so fiercely against his opponents. the thought of him on top of you briefly flickered through your mind, but you quickly shoved that aside.

he was close now, you two stood under the same bridge. however, kashimo moved much faster than you. before you could process what happened, his hand was wrapped around your throat and cold concrete was pressing into your back. he had you fully pinned to the wall underneath the bridge.

"who the hell are you? i've seen you watching me. when the hell did you get 184 points? why are you watching me?" kashimo's voice was a low growl emanating from deep within his chest. his pupils suddenly dilated as your scent filled his nose, it was hypnotic, he felt dizzy.

who are you?

his senses were flooded and his anger slowly diminished. he felt drawn to you, he was having a difficult time holding himself back from burying his head in the crook if your neck and inhaling deeply. god, it was so good.

"you intrigue me. 200 points is impressive, hajime kashimo. i was hoping to fight you, but you've so rudely pinned me against this wall. i thought you wanted a challenge?" your eyes glistened with a mixture of something dangerous and carnal desire.

the rough skin of his fingers felt good against your soft skin as he tightened his grip around your throat, "i've been waiting to fight sukuna, not whoever you are..." he briefly trailed off, "however, i must admit that your ability interests me. you seem rather powerful. maybe you would put up a good fight."

kashimo wore a wicked grin on his face as electricity surged around him. he released you from his grip and held up his fists, surrounded by his electric cursed energy.

as you matched each of his swings, remaining perfectly undamaged and unbothered, he noticed a dull aching settling in between his legs. blood redirected itself to flow into his rapidly hardening dick.

your eyes flicked down to his crotch, taking in the developing tent in his pants, and back up to his eyes, to his lips, and back to his eyes. it was easier for you to conceal, but you were feeling the exact same way.

"so... have you ever even been with a woman?" you asked, hoping your teasing would further rile him up.

with a slight smirk he stared at your lips before forcing his gaze to meet your eyes. your guard was temporarily down and he took the opportunity to strike, pinning you back against the wall. he hungrily captured your lips in a kiss and brought his knee up between your legs, hoping you would grind down on him.

his hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer to him and eliciting needy whines from you. your clit throbbed and you pressed your hips down onto his thigh in an attempt to alleviate the pressure. he greedily drank down every whine, whimper, and moan he drew out of you. his open mouth messily worked over yours and his hands trailed down your body.

he scratched and squeezed any exposed skin he could find, until he finally found your breasts. lucky for him, you hadn't put a bra on under your loose fitting top. he was easily able to start kneading your tits, occasionally pinching and twisting your nipples.

kashimo's lips found your neck, sucking dark marks into your pulse point and inhaling your scent. he couldn't think anymore, his brain completely full of you. it was infuriating and exciting all at once.

shameless need flooded through your body while you rolled your hips against his still clothed leg. warmth started to build up in your abdomen. were you really going to cum from dry humping like a horny teenager?

his tongue swiped across your skin, savoring the vaguely salty taste before he bit down. a load groan escaped him as he trailed bites down your neck and shoulder.

he grabbed your shirt, "let's get this off. now." he demanded, ripping your shirt off.

temptation immediately overtook him as he buried his head between your tits. he couldn't control himself, his mind seemingly took over by his hormones. tongue and teeth explored your chest before he finally found your nipple. his lips wrapped around it, sucking it in and swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. he kneaded your other breast with his free hand.

kashimo's other hand was occupied with slipping past your waistband into your panties. he cupped your pussy with his large palm, feeling how much you were dripping for him.

"god. you infuriate me." he growled.

you took your hand and placed two of your fingers under his chin, guiding him up to meet your eyes. "do i? you seem like you're enjoying this, hajime." your voice dripped his a false sweetness when you said his name which only served to piss him off even more.

two of his fingers pushed past your entrance with minimal struggle due to your arousal. he watched as your face contorted with shock and pleasure, "don't push me." he set a brutal pace with his fingers, leaving you squirming for him.

you batted your eyelashes, pulling an expression of faux innocence, "what if i wanted to push you? you're not nearly strong enough to reach my limits."

lightning flashed in his eyes, "i'll show you what i can do. don't cry when you can't take it anymore." kashimo was fired up in a way he'd never felt before. he needed to break you. he needed to see you fall apart and come undone for him.

a third finger joined the other two stretching your cunt. the wet sounds from your arousal echoed through the open area with each pump of his fingers.

"don't- don't worry. you won't be able to make me cry." you choked your words out between moans, already feeling humiliated. your orgasm was building up faster than you'd like. he scissored his fingers to further stretch out your tight walls, pressing them against your sweet spot. he couldn't get enough of the way you clenched around him every time he hit that spot, imagining how it would feel around his painfully hard dick.

kashimo pulled his fingers out of you, loving how the new empty sensation made you whine. "i'm getting sick of your attitude." he slapped your pussy over your clothes before hastily ripping them off. the sting of his slap made your entire body jolt and you held back a moan, you couldn't let him see how this affected you.

he made quick work of removing his robes, relishing in the way you admired his nude body. his abs were lightly defined, the six muscles tensing when your fingers brushed against his stomach. his arms were nicely built, all the major muscles were defined but not overly so.

noticeable beads of pre-cum had gathered on the flushed tip of his cock. several veins ran up the length of his shaft, which stood at a solid 6.5 inches. he was pale, but the tip was a blooming red color from his pent up frustration and arousal.

with one swift movement he bent you over so your hands were anchored against the wall. cold air hit your pussy as kashimo spread your ass cheeks apart. he slapped your exposed pussy again, "just remember that you asked for this."

he stroked himself a few times and lined himself up with your pussy. his hand met your ass with a sharp slap sound as he pushed himself into you. his cock felt so thick as he gave everything to you, inch by inch. the stretch felt deliciously good.

when he bottomed out you felt so full, his hips flush with yours.

"haji-" you started to cry out before he clamped his hand over your mouth. "be quiet and take it."

his pace was fast, unforgiving. he wasn't just pounding into you, but he made sure to periodically adjust the angle of his hips to increase the sensation for you.

kashimo brought his fingers down to your clit, rubbing small circles with his thumb. wanton cries bubbled up your throat, threatening to escape.

a short zap met your clit, momentarily shocking you. the bastard had used his electric cursed energy on you.

you could hear the smirk in his voice as he taunted you, "you liked that? you're filthy." before you could respond he let another spark of his cursed energy flow through his finger against your clit. the knot of pleasure in your core was tightening, ready to snap at any moment. you writhed around in his hold, helplessly babbling his name.

"what happened to your attitude? poor thing... all you needed was some dick to shut you up." his words pissed you off, but you couldn't think clearly, let alone speak cohesively. the head of his cock was kissing your sweet spot with each thrust, bringing you closer and closer to your anticipated release.

"s-so close, hajime."

he brought his head close to your neck again, your scent stronger as your climax approached. his thrusts started to become sloppy, mindlessly fucking you in reach of his own orgasm.

the knot in your core finally snapped, orgasmic bliss washing over you. your walls spasmed around him which pushed him over his own edge. holding yourself up became a challenge as your entire body shook from the pleasure and blossoming soreness from the stretch of his dick.

you could feel warmth filling you as he unloaded sticky ropes of his release inside you. his cock remained in place and he watched as cum dripped out around him.

his hands felt secure around your waist as he flipped you around to face him and pulled you down onto a neatly folded pile of blankets that he used as a makeshift bed. he pulled you onto his lap, helping position your cunt in line with his still hard cock.

"ride it. show me how desperate you are for me." he snarled out, greedily pulling your body down.

you rolled your hips, bouncing up and down on him. he gently guided you with one hand on your waist. the other played with your nipples, occasionally sending jolts of electricity through you.

a burning sensation was filling your thighs and your pace slowed.

stinging shot through your neck as kashimo's teeth connected with your skin and he grumbled, "is that all you can do? i thought you'd do better than this."

you pushed him down and anchored your hands on either side of his head, your tits hanging down into his face. the new support allowed you to speed back up, using him to feel good. your lips hung open with your head tilted back, soft whines and cries coming from you. this position made him feel so much deeper.

you were reduced to a cock drunk mess as you fucked yourself on him. cumming was the only thing on your mind.

"pathetic, honestly. i thought you'd be more of a thrill, but you fall apart so easily." he knew his words would provoke you, that's why he said it. he was hoping to push you past your limits.

kashimo grabbed you and swiftly flipped you around so your back rested against the blankets. his fingers held your hips with a bruising strength. the head of his cock was teasingly resting against your cunt, but he wasn't moving. he was busy admiring how he had marked you up. hickeys and bite marks littered your neck, chest, and thighs.

he gave no warning as he shoved himself back inside you. his tongue connected with your neck and several growls flowed from his mouth. your cunt clenched around him, driving him insane. he was dizzy from the feeling of your pussy and the sweet aroma of your skin.

his hips snapped against yours, the sensation becoming too much. tears welled up in your eyes and started to spill down your cheeks.

swallowing your pride you cried, "haa– hajime. it's too much." tears were now freely pouring down your face; however, his rhythm did not falter.

"it's not too much, shhhh. you can take it, remember you said you wouldn't cry. you said i wasn't strong enough. you kept pushing me." he sounded sickeningly sweet as he spoke. his thumb gently swiped across your cheek, wiping the tears away. "poor girl... just take it for me, okay?"

you nodded helplessly, trying to choke back the tears but they wouldn't stop. your senses were all in overdrive, completely taken over by kashimo.

he was relentless, fully chasing after the thrill of finally being able to put you in your place and diminish your attitude. this was giving him what he had been looking for since reincarnating. this may not be a battle, but your defiance was enough to push back at him and allow him the thrill of the chase. his desires for someone to challenge him had been satiated at last.

kashimo brought his fingers to your clit, rubbing circles onto the sensitive nerves. lightning danced around his body, he was unable to control it in this state.

the added stimulation to your clit was enough to bring you to your climax again. your cunt clenched around his cock, twitching inside of you. you were squeezing him so tight it felt like you were milking him dry, his fingers dug into your hips as he released once more.

he rolled to the side as he pulled out, laying back and panting. he was absolutely spent, even intense fights had never left him feeling like this. completely satisfied.

"kogane, transfer 100 points to y/n."

"you got it! 100 points transferred to the player!" kogane's cheerful voice rang out.

your eyebrows shot up and you gave him a look of confusion.

"i've lost. my points are yours now. do what you will with them." he admitted, a slight hint of defeat in his voice.

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💌 : : this is my first time writing for kashimo but honestly i had a lot of fun with this

And the way Hakari leans in close, whispering in your ear as he makes eye contact with Kashimo from across the room. The grip on his nyoi staff tightens, causing his knuckles to turn pale. There’s enough couch for the two of you that there’s no need to be sitting so close. The final straw is when he sees Hakari place his hand on your thigh.

“Get out.” Pushing himself off the wall, Kashimo cuts into your conversation abruptly.

You turn your head towards the sound of his voice, brows furrowed, confusion evident in your tone. “What? Kin was just in the middle of telling a story.”

Said man looks over at the ancient sorcerer with that same smug smirk never leaving his face. He tilts his head as his eyes meet the piercing cyan ones that glare back at him. “Yeah, at least let me finish.” He lets out a small chuckle, heavy hand giving your thigh a soft squeeze.

Kashimo isn’t stupid, he’s aware of what Hakari is implying. It only makes that feeling in his chest grow tighter. Walking over to the couch, he comes face to face with the man, sizing him up.

“Get. Out.” he says lowly. The words are steady—final.

Hakari puts his hands up in mock surrender, small grin on his face like he’s not taking this situation seriously. “Hey, I don’t wanna do anything crazy in front of the lady. We can talk this out later.”

And with that, he leaves the monitor room. Which only leaves you and Kashimo in there. The air feels thick, filled with tension that you don’t know how to break—or that you really don’t want to. He turns around, being the first to break the deafening silence. “You will be dealt with right now.” He seems far too calm for what you had just witnessed.

“He was just telling a story. There was no need to get so angry, Hajime.” you argue, voice raised the slightest bit.

“That story includes putting his hands on your body, hmm?” he growls. Grabbing you by the hips, he quickly switches your position causing you to let out a small yelp. Ass now in the air like you’re putting yourself on display for him. “Whispering secrets to each other?”

As if on instinct, you wiggle your hips pushing yourself back against Kashimo’s clothed groin. Your needy pussy already looking for some sort of friction. The tiny shorts you wear ride up, exposing the curve of your ass.

He often forgets that things are different now compared to 400 years ago, more so when it comes to how people dress. But watching you prance around this place in such little clothes is something that he finds himself getting used to—enjoying entirely too much. Kashimo wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into the supple skin. To taste the saltiness on his tongue, mark your pretty body and show Hakari that you’re his.

“It’s normal for friends to get a little touchy, ‘jime,” you whine into the cushions of the couch. Though it wasn’t your intention to make him jealous, you can’t deny how seeing him act this way makes the heat rush straight between your legs.

A calloused hand is placed on the back of your thigh, kneading it like dough. He watches the way some of the plush skin spills through his fingers, like he’s lost in a trance, Hajime can’t seem to tear his eyes away from it. “That stops now,” he says, voice coming out low and controlled. His jaw tightens, the kneading stops with his hand now just resting there—heavy.

“Wh-what…” You lift your head from the cushions, unable to form any coherent thoughts. You poor thing. Your head has already gone hazy just from Kashimo’s wandering hands. He almost feels a bit sympathetic for you. Mocking a small pout, though you can’t even see it from the position you’re in.

Soft crackles of electricity are quick to snap you out of that hazy state. It traces up the back of your thigh, like tiny prickles on your skin, causing goosebumps to rise following its path. The intensity of it drops, yet it doesn’t feel that way when he traces it over your pussy, stopping at your aching clit. The sensation of the tiny sparks of electricity has your legs shaking, feeling like they might give out any second. You’re unable to control the moans that slip past your lips.

The thin fabric of your shorts stretches perfectly over your puffy folds. Pulling it to the side, the cool air hits the sensitive area making you whine. He watches the way you clench around nothing. The thought of stretching and filling you up only makes Kashimo’s cock twitch in his pants, begging for release.

“Say it or I stop. He’s not going to touch you anymore,” he says, voice strained like he’s close to losing every ounce of control left in his body. Thick fingers slowly enter your pussy, they curl deliciously against that sweet spot that has you letting out little mewls. Lewd squelches fill the room, velvety walls trying to milk Kashimo’s fingers like they actually have something to give. You push your hips back further, trying to push his fingers impossibly deeper into your dripping cunt.

“F-fuck! I promise, Hajime!” you cry, desperate to feel more than just his fingers. Good, he doesn’t know how much longer he can wait, needing to feel you wrapped around him. Lowering his pants enough for his aching cock to spring free, the flushed tip leaking shiny beads of precum.

Grabbing himself at the base, he runs the tip over your slit, coating it in your arousal. Kashimo can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him, like he wants to burn this image into his memory. “Hajime, stop teasing mee.” Fuck you sound so pretty whining for him, he really could listen to the little sounds you make all day. He slowly starts to push his cock in, letting you get used to stinging stretch.

He lets out a quiet hiss, already sensitive from the warmth enveloping him. Hips flush against your ass, staying still for a second he lets you get used to the stretch. Though, only a moment later and he’s now setting a brutal pace with sharp, calculated thrusts. Aiming for that sweet spot repeatedly, never giving it a break. Your head feels fuzzy, unable to focus on anything but the way Kashimo pounds your poor pussy. “Please d-don’t stop, ‘jime! Feels so good!” Your load moans fill the room along with the loud slapping of skin on skin.

The thick fabric of his robe is now starting to become uncomfortable, his body feels burning hot, sticky with sweat all over. Pieces of his bangs stick to his face. The thought of your fingers getting tangled in his hair, pulling on it only makes his cock twitch in your warm cunt.

You bury your face in the cushions, loud moans now being reduced to muffled whimpers. Hajime takes notice of this, lowering himself, firm chest now being pressed against your back. Bandage wrapped arms along with striking cyan hair are only things you can make out in your peripheral. A teasing grin painting Hajime’s face. “Getting.. haa.. shy now? Don’t want Kin to hear how good I f-fuck you?” he says through heavy grunts.

Your face burning from the embarrassment of his words. His teasing only makes your walls clench tighter around him, the coil in your tummy growing tighter with each harsh thrust. He fills your senses completely—feeling the way he buries his face in the crook of your neck, heavy panting on your warm skin. “Pretty fuckin’ thing. All mine,” he growls, slowly licking your sweat slicked skin like he wants to savor the salty taste.

A rough hand snakes its way between your thighs, reaching your already sensitive clit. Small whimpers escape past your lips when you feel the soft buzzing of his cursed energy. It’s too much with the way his cock massages your walls, you can feel the way your body is right on that edge that you so desperately want to get over.

“N-ngh Hajime I’m close! Please don’t s-stop!” God, Kashimo might never get used to having something so sweet and soft like you falling apart under him. Wishing he could see your pretty face right now, that fucked out expression with glossy eyes. The thought that it’s him being the reason you let out these pretty whines, his hands that know your body so well—no one else but him.

The coil in your tummy becomes tighter with each thrust that has Kashimo’s cock hitting that spongy spot inside you. His fingers never leaving your throbbing, sensitive clit—it’s overwhelming. Only a few more harsh thrusts from his hips and that coil snaps completely. White, hot pleasure coming over you, your legs going weak unable to keep your hips up any longer. Choked moans leave your lips as your head goes fuzzy from your orgasm.

It’s a pretty sight watching you fall apart on his cock, and it feels even better. The way your walls pulse and flutter around him, soaking his cock in your arousal. “F-fuck-“ Hajime’s hips begin to the stutter, you can feel the heavy twitch of his cock inside you. His breathing gets erratic as he gets closer. With a few deep thrusts he’s cumming, the warmth filling you up. He sinks his sharp teeth into the delicate skin of your shoulder, trying to conceal any whimpers and moans. Like he’s actually never gotten over the embarrassment of it.

That exhausted feeling is soon to come over, your body melting into the cushions. “Hajime… what is your problem?” you ask lazily, that heavy feeling seeping into eyelids as your breathing starts to even out. Maybe you should piss him off more often. That seems to be the only thought crossing your mind right now.

Something between a scoff or a small chuckle makes its way past Kashimo’s lips. He covers you with his robe, making sure you’re comfortable. That idiot Hakari should know that you’re off limits now.

The shift isn't a moment. It’s a slow burn, a fuse lit at the beginning of the spar and finally reaching its powder keg. The air in the training dojo has gone from charged to saturated, every breath tasting of copper and raw power. The overhead lights haven't just flickered; they've died, leaving only the violent, strobing light of your colliding energies to illuminate the room.

You’re both breathing hard, not from exhaustion, but from exhilaration. A thin sheen of sweat slicks your skin, making the faint blue lightning that crawls across your arms and shoulders glow brighter as it follows the paths of moisture.

Kashimo stands opposite you, a silhouette of violet-white crackling energy. He’s grinning that specific, maddening grin of his—the one that says he knows exactly how much danger you’re both in and wouldn't have it any other way.

His shirt is gone, sacrificed to an earlier arc of your Static Flash, and the muscle of his chest and abdomen is etched with the faint, branching patterns of residual electrical burns from your last exchange. They don’t look like injuries; they look like ink. Like art.

“You’re slowing down,” he says, the words barely a rasp. The sound is swallowed by the constant, high-frequency hum that radiates from him.

You laugh, a short, sharp sound. “Liar. You’re just getting old.”

“Am I?” He pushes off the wall, the movement fluid and unnervingly silent for the sheer power it contains. “Then you shouldn’t have a problem keeping up.”

He closes the distance in a blink. There’s no tell, no wind-up. One moment he’s twenty feet away, the next his fist is inches from your face. You don’t dodge. You meet it.

Your palm catches his wrist, not with brute force, but by flooding the space between you with your own energy. The collision is catastrophic. The sound is a deafening CRACK-HISS, like a thousand power transformers exploding at once. A sphere of white-blue light erupts at the point of contact, throwing both of you back.

You land in a crouch, sliding several feet across the polished wooden floor, the grain scorching black beneath you. Kashimo hits the wall and doesn’t fall, simply absorbing the impact, the concrete behind him spiderwebbing with cracks.

He shakes out his hand, flexing his fingers. A new network of violet sparks dances over his knuckles.

“Getting warmer.” He says through a grin.

You push yourself up, feeling the wild, untamed energy thrumming through your veins.

You surge forward, a living conduit of Static Flash. The wooden floor splinters beneath your feet with every accelerated step, Arc Step leaving behind afterimages of brilliant, stuttering light. You don't plan a complex attack. You don't need to. You pour everything into a single, devastating strike aimed right for that smug, perfect face of his.

He meets it.

He doesn't block, doesn't evade. He moves into your attack, his entire body humming with that terrifying, concentrated energy. The world whites out. There is no impact, not in the traditional sense. There is a convergence. Your chaotic, storm-born force crashes against his absolute, inherent current.

The resulting explosion of power is not a shout but a silent, all-consuming pressure wave that shatters every remaining window in the dojo and sends the heavy wooden doors flying off their hinges.

When the light and chaos recede, the world is a blur of motion and sensation. You're moving, or rather, you're being moved. Kashimo has you. His arm is a steel band around your waist, the other hand gripping the back of your neck, and you’re both sliding across the debris-strewn floor, the momentum from your clash carrying you in a deadly tango.

 You crash into the remaining solid section of the far wall with enough force to drive the breath from your lungs in a pained gasp.

The impact doesn't faze him. He uses it to pin you, his body pressing flush against yours, trapping you. The wall is cold and hard at your back, a stark contrast to the inferno of heat that is his body against yours. His cursed energy isn't just crackling around him now; it's sinking into you, a deep, resonant hum that vibrates through your bones, overwhelming your own electrical field. You can feel it in your teeth, in the base of your skull.

He leans in, his face inches from yours, his breath hot against your cheek. The grin is gone, replaced by a look of intense, burning focus that is far more dangerous. His hair, usually so pristine, is disheveled, a few strands falling across his brow.

“You’re panting,” he observes, his voice a low, intimate rumble that vibrates directly into your chest. His gaze dips, tracing the line of your throat, the rapid pulse beating there. “Am I finally pushing you past your limits?”

You glare at him, trying to summon the energy to shove him off, but your own power feels muted, scrambled by the proximity of his.

“Past my limits?” You let out a short laugh. “If this is your best, Hajime, you’re going to have to try a lot harder than that.”

The violence of the impact has shifted your loose training tank top, pulling the wide neckline down one shoulder. The fabric hangs, exposing the smooth skin of your collarbone and the curve of your shoulder.

His eyes catch the movement. His gaze flickers down to the exposed skin, lingering for a fraction of a second before slowly, deliberately, returning to your face. In that fleeting glance, something in the atmosphere between you shifts. The violent intensity doesn't fade, but it changes shape. It sharpens, focusing from a destructive force to a predatory one. The low hum of his energy seems to deepen, thrumming against you with a new, proprietary frequency.

“That’s new,” he murmurs, the words less of a taunt now and more of a discovery. His thumb on the back of your neck begins to move, stroking the sensitive skin there in a slow, possessive circle. The touch is electric in a way the fight wasn't—a sharp, tingling current that shoots straight down your spine. “Do you have any idea what you look like right now? All this power… this fire… and you’re falling apart just from being this close to me.”

You try to retort, but the words catch in your throat. Your breathing is ragged, each inhale pulling the scent of him—sweat, and something clean and sharp like a storm—deeper into your lungs.

His free hand, which had been braced against the wall by your head, moves. It drifts down your side, tracing the curve of your ribcage with a feather-light touch that makes your muscles jump and twitch. His knuckles brush against the damp fabric of your sports bra, a phantom pressure that feels heavier than a blow. His journey ends at the hem of your shorts, his fingers hooking into the elastic with a casual confidence that steals your breath.

He holds your gaze, a silent challenge in his cyan eyes. “I wonder…” he says, his voice dropping even lower, becoming a near-growl that vibrates through you both. “How much can you actually take of me?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy with implication. His index finger slips beneath the hem of your shorts, not to enter, but to trace a slow, teasing line along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The touch is light, almost delicate, a stark, maddening contrast to the brutal force he just displayed. A bolt of pure, unadulterated heat flashes through you, and your hips give an involuntary jerk.

A choked gasp escapes your lips. Your hands, which had been braced against his chest, instinctively move, curling over his shoulders.

Your nails dig into the solid muscle, not to push him away, but to anchor yourself in the dizzying storm of sensation. “This isn’t training anymore,” you manage, your voice a breathy, unsteady whisper.

A slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face. It’s not the arrogant grin from before. This is something else. Hungry. “Isn’t it?” he counters smoothly. His finger continues its maddening path, moving higher. “Call it what you want. It’s still a test of strength.”

In one fluid, powerful motion, he hooks a hand behind your knee, lifting your leg and hitching it high on his hip. The new position opens you to him, leaving you completely vulnerable. The hard line of his erection presses against your core, a blatant, undeniable promise through the thin layers of clothing. The air crackles, not from your colliding powers, but from the sheer, magnetic tension between you.

“Let’s see how you handle this,” he breathes against your ear.

His other hand moves with decisive intent. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and panties alike, pulling them aside with no pretense of gentleness. The cool air hits your heated flesh for a split second before his fingers are there, exploring. One long, calloused digit slides through your folds, gathering the slick evidence of your arousal.

The sound you make is half-moan, half-gasp.

Your head falls back against the wall, your eyes fluttering shut. “Kashimo…”

He doesn’t answer with words. He answers with action. His finger, coated in your wetness, circles your clit once, twice, a slow, deliberate pressure that makes your entire body clench. And then, without warning, he sinks two fingers deep inside you.

Your hips buck off the wall, a strangled cry tearing from your throat. The stretch is exquisite, a perfect, piercing pleasure. He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust. He sets a rhythm, pumping into you with a sure, deep stroke while his thumb finds your clit and begins a firm, circling pressure that leaves you seeing stars.

He watches you, his gaze predatory and intense, drinking in every twitch of your face, every helpless sound that falls from your lips. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice a rough, velvet caress. “Soaking my fingers. You’re so much more responsive like this.”

Your mind is a haze of pleasure, the fight completely forgotten. All that exists is the feeling of him inside you, the relentless pressure of his thumb, the hard muscle of his thigh you’re draped over.

“Someone… someone might hear,” you gasp out, the thought a distant, flickering worry amidst the overwhelming pleasure.

He growls, a low, possessive sound from deep in his chest. The vibration of it travels from where he’s pressed against you straight to your core. “I don’t care.”

To prove his point, he dips his head, his lips finding the sensitive skin where your neck meets your shoulder. He doesn’t just kiss. He nips and bites, sharp, stinging pressures that are immediately soothed by the sweep of his tongue. Each mark he leaves is a jolt of electricity, a claim. His free hand abandons your hip, moving up to roughly tug the neckline of your tank top and sports bra down, exposing your breasts to the charged, cool air.

He pulls back just enough to look, his eyes darkening with a primal hunger. “Perfect,” he breathes, before ducking his head to take one aching nipple into his mouth.

The dual sensations are devastating. The relentless, skilled thrust of his fingers inside you, the torturous circles on your clit, and now the hot, wet suction of his mouth on your breast. He lavishes you, his tongue swirling, his teeth scraping gently, before he switches to the other side, giving it the same thorough, possessive attention.

“Nnngh… Kashimo…” Your back arches, pushing your breast deeper into his mouth as a particularly hard thrust of his fingers hits a spot inside you that makes your vision swim. “If someone… comes in…”

He lifts his head, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. His eyes are burning, a feral light in them that both terrifies and exhilarates you. He licks his lips, a slow, deliberate motion. “They would see you,” he says, his voice a low, dangerous purr right against your ear. “They would see you falling apart beneath me.”

As if to emphasize his point, the pressure of his thumb on your clit increases, circling faster. His fingers pump into you, harder and deeper, the wet sounds of your arousal loud in the ruined dojo—schlick… schlick… schlick—a percussive beat to your rising cries.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he groans, nipping at your earlobe. “Uncontrollable. Needy.” He grinds his hips against you, the hard, thick length of him trapped in his own pants pressing insistently against your stomach. “All that strength, just melting away for me.”

The coil in your belly tightens to an impossible degree. The pleasure is a white-hot fire, consuming your every thought. Your fingers clamp down on his shoulders, your entire body trembling.

“Fffuck… Hajime…” The use of his given name is a surrender, a complete capitulation. “I— I’m—”

He knows. He feels it in the way your inner walls clamp down on him, in the desperate pitch of your moans. He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Cum on my fingers, little storm,” he growls, the command a final, delicious push over the edge. “Now.”

Your orgasm shatters through you. It’s not a gentle wave but a violent, electrical convulsion. Your back bows sharply off the wall, a ragged scream tearing from your throat as white-hot pleasure obliterates everything else. Your vision whites out, your hearing replaced by a high-pitched ring. You’re dimly aware of Kashimo’s groan of satisfaction, of the way he watches your face with intense, rapt focus, as if memorizing every second of your undoing. His hips grind against you, a needy, desperate movement that tells you he’s right there with you, lost in pleasure. 

The aftershocks of your orgasm are still rippling through you when he claims your mouth. It’s not a kiss of gentle reassurance; it’s a branding. His lips crash against yours, demanding and possessive. He bites your lower lip, not hard enough to break the skin, but with enough sharp sting to make you gasp. He takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping in to dominate yours, tasting you, devouring the moan that escapes your throat. It’s a kiss that says you are his, a claim as absolute as the lightning he commands.

When he pulls back, you’re both panting, your chests heaving. His eyes are wild, a storm of cyan and lust. With a guttural grunt of pure need, he hooks his fingers into the ruined waistband of your shorts and panties. The sound of fabric tearing is loud and sharp in the silent dojo. He rips them clean off, the ruined scraps falling to the floor.

There’s no ceremony. No hesitation. He grips your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as if you weigh nothing. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, your arms clinging to his neck as he presses you back against the wall, bearing his full weight. One-handed, he fumbles with the tie of his own pants, the swift rasp of a zipper and the clink of a buckle a prelude to the main event.

Then you feel it. The thick, hot head of his cock presses against your still-sensitive, soaked entrance. The size of him is a daunting promise. He doesn’t wait. With a slow, relentless pressure, he sinks the tip inside.

A raw, unfiltered groan is torn from both of your chests. The sensation is overwhelming, an impossible stretch that borders on pain but is shot through with a bolt of pure pleasure. Your nails dig into the hard muscle of his shoulders, a desperate attempt to ground yourself.

“Relax,” he pants, his forehead resting against yours, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. “Let me in.”

“You’re too… big,” you gasp out, your voice shaky. “I don’t… I don’t think you’ll fit.”

A dark, arrogant smirk touches his lips. “We’ll make it fit.” He shifts his grip, one arm hooked firmly under your ass, holding you steady. His other hand moves, finding your clit with unerring accuracy. He presses down, circling the sensitive bud with a firm, knowing pressure.

The reaction is instantaneous. A choked cry escapes you, your body arching against him as another wave of pleasure crashes over you. “Fuck… Hajime…”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, his own control fraying as he feels your body react to him. “Just like that. Cum for me. Let me in.”

His command is your undoing. The stimulation, combined with the feeling of him poised at your entrance, triggers another orgasm. It’s smaller than the first, but just as intense. Your body clenches and flutters, and a fresh gush of your arousal floods his cock, creating a perfect, slick ring around the base of his head.

The added lubrication is all he needs. With a shared moan of pure relief, you feel yourself slip, taking another inch of him. The stretch is exquisite. He seizes the opportunity, burying his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and biting a new trail of marks across your shoulder.

“Just a little more…” he grunts against your skin. “I know you can take me.”

He bucks his hips, a short, hard thrust that forces you to take even more. Then another. The rhythm is punishing, a deliberate assault on your senses until, with one final, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt.

A loud, sharp gasp is torn from your lungs. You are utterly, completely full. The feeling is staggering, a delicious pressure that touches every nerve ending.

He stills, breathing heavily against your neck. “You’re so tight,” he groans, the words muffled by your skin. “You fit me perfectly.”

Then he begins to move.

There is no gentle build-up. He sets a deep, punishing pace from the very start. Every stroke is a hard, deliberate thrust that knocks the air from your lungs and sends sparks of pleasure behind your eyes. The sound of skin slapping against skin, wet and loud, fills the ruined dojo, mingling with your mutual moans and pants.

He is vocal, a constant stream of praise and profanity. “Look at you… taking me so well,” he pants. “Fuck… you feel incredible.” He captures your lips again in a bruising kiss, a messy, passionate clash of teeth and tongues.

He tangles a hand in your hair, pulling your head back to expose the long line of your throat. He nips and sucks at the sensitive skin there, and you can’t help the loud moan that escapes you with each powerful thrust. “Such a good girl,” he praises, his voice a rough, breathy growl. “Made to take my cock.”

The pressure builds again, a familiar, tightening coil deep in your core. “Hajime… I’m… I’m going to cum again,” you warn, your voice barely a whisper.

“Do it,” he commands without breaking rhythm. “Cum for me. I’m going to cum too.” He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, his gaze burning with a desperate, primal hunger. “I’m going to cum inside you.”

A flicker of panic cuts through the haze of pleasure. “Nnngh… fuck… Kashimo, you can’t… oh GOD— FUCK! Right there! Please don’t stop!” Your protest dissolves into a desperate whine as he angles his hips, hitting that perfect spot inside you again and again.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he grunts, a feral grin on his face. He releases your hair, bringing his thumb to bear on your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with renewed, expert pressure. The dual stimulation is your final undoing.

He holds your jaw, forcing you to maintain eye contact, demanding you watch him as you fall apart. “Look at me,” he orders, his voice rough. “I want to see you.”

Your orgasm hits you like a physical blow. A long, breathy cry escapes your lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. “Haaaah… Haji… me…” Your back arches, your head falling slightly back as your eyes roll back, eyelids fluttering shut. Your inner walls clamp down on him like a vise, fluttering and milking his length as a gush of your arousal floods him.

The sight of you, lost in the throes of pleasure, the feel of you cumming around him, is too much. He loses control.

A guttural, animalistic growl is torn from his chest, “Nnngh—FUCK!” His thrusts become rapid and erratic, a desperate, hard pounding as he chases his own release.

With one last, deep thrust, he buries himself inside you to the hilt. You feel him pulse, a hot flood of his cum filling you, coating your insides. He groans your name, a raw, broken sound against your skin as he continues to rock into you, riding out the waves of his orgasm until every last drop is spent, until you have milked him completely.

He sags against you, his full weight pinning you to the wall as you both struggle for breath. The only sounds in the silent, ruined dojo are your ragged gasps for air and the frantic beating of your hearts. For a long moment, neither of you moves, content to simply exist in the aftermath, a tangled, sweaty, and thoroughly satisfied mess.

The silence that follows is not empty. It's heavy, saturated with the scent of sweat and sex and the lingering, electric tang of ozone. His body is a dead weight against yours, a furnace that seeps into your skin, chasing away the chill of the wall at your back. Your legs are still wrapped around his waist, a hold that has become less about passion and more about pure necessity, the only thing keeping you from sliding to the floor in a boneless heap.

You feel him soften inside you, a slow, intimate retreat that leaves a strange ache of emptiness in its wake. A tremor runs through your body, a delayed reaction to the sheer intensity of it all.

He shifts, pushing himself up just enough to look at you. His hair is a complete mess, falling into his eyes, which are no longer burning with a predatory fire but are now a deep, clear cyan in the dim light. He reaches up, pushing the damp strands back from his forehead. A smear of dust is on his cheekbone, and there's a faint, purpling bruise already forming on the corner of his jaw from an earlier, more violent exchange. He looks wrecked. And utterly, devastatingly content.

“Well,” he says, his voice a low, raspy murmur that vibrates through your chest. His gaze sweeps over your face, taking in the dazed, satiated expression he finds there. A slow, smug grin touches his lips. “That was a much more satisfying conclusion to the spar.”

You manage to summon enough energy to roll your eyes, a feat that feels like it takes every ounce of your remaining strength. “You’re impossible,” you mumble, the words muffled against his shoulder.

His grin widens. “And you,” he says, his tone dropping to a near whisper as he leans in, “are incredible.” He presses a soft, surprisingly gentle kiss to your temple, a stark contrast to the brutal, possessive marks he left on your neck and shoulder. He carefully disentangles himself, lowering your legs to the floor with a steadiness that belies the trembling you feel in your own limbs.

The moment your feet touch the ground, your knees buckle. He catches you instantly, one strong arm wrapping around your waist to hold you up. “Easy there,” he murmurs, a note of genuine concern in his voice.

“I’m fine,” you insist, pushing weakly against his chest. “Just… need a second.”

He doesn’t let go. Instead, he stoops, scooping you up into his arms with an effortless display of strength.

He carries you not with haste, but with a deliberate, steady pace through the wreckage. Each footfall is sure, navigating the splintered wood and shattered concrete as if he’s done this a thousand times. The cool air of the adjoining locker room is a welcome shock to your heated skin. He walks directly to the communal showers, kicking open the frosted glass door of a stall with his foot before setting you down gently inside.

The water turns on with a sharp twist of his wrist, the initial spray cold before it quickly warms to a soothing temperature. He doesn’t join you, but he doesn’t leave either. He leans against the stall’s entrance, arms crossed over his chest, watching as the water cascades over your body, washing away the sweat, the dust, and the evidence of your combined destruction.

You close your eyes, tipping your head back to let the spray hit your face. You feel the tension seep out of your muscles, the aches from the fight and the exertion of sex beginning to make themselves known. A clean, fluffy towel appears in your peripheral vision, held out by a steady hand. When you’re done, he wraps it around you, then disappears for a moment, returning with a thick, white robe. He helps you into it, the movements impersonal yet strangely tender, like he’s patching up a valuable piece of equipment.

You walk back into the main dojo together. The silence is comfortable, a shared understanding passing between you without words. The place looks even worse in the dim emergency lighting. The far wall is a crater, the floor a mess of debris, and the air still thrums with a residual, dangerous energy. You reach the main entrance, the point where your paths would normally diverge, and pause.

The moment is shattered by the main doors swinging open. Kinji Hakari strolls in, hands in his pockets, with Panda trotting along beside him. They both stop dead, their eyes widening as they take in the apocalyptic scene.

Hakari’s gaze sweeps over the destruction, then lands on you and Kashimo, standing amidst the ruin. His expression immediately sours, a flicker of intense annoyance crossing his face. “No,” he says, the word flat and absolute.

Kashimo turns his head, fixing Hakari with an impassive stare. “No what?” he asks, his tone devoid of inflection.

Hakari throws a hand up, gesturing wildly between the two of you and the wreckage. “Whatever just happened here… no. It’s done. You two aren’t allowed to train unsupervised anymore. Gojo is going to lose it at the damage in this dojo. You two are way too intense when you spar.”

You pull the robe tighter around yourself, a small, almost inaudible sigh escaping your lips. “You have no idea,” you murmur to no one in particular.

Kashimo’s gaze remains on Hakari, his face a mask of calm. “I don’t understand what the issue is,” he states, with a level of sincerity that somehow makes the situation worse.

“THAT,” Hakari snaps, pointing a finger directly at Kashimo. “THAT is exactly what I’m talking about.”

Panda, who has been observing the entire exchange with his head tilted, lets out a sudden, booming laugh. “Hoo boy, you really did a number on the place.”

Ignoring them both, Kashimo turns to you. A mischievous, knowing smirk plays on his lips. “Spar again tomorrow?” he asks, the question a clear continuation of the conversation you were having before you were interrupted.

You look at him, still feeling dazed and boneless. “Fine,” you agree, the word quiet but firm.

"don't worry," hajime continues, "you're probably thinking about it going out of control and hurting you, but i promise that won't happen."

"how can you be so sure?"

he smiles. "i've been practicing."

your brow lifts. practicing? "on who exactly?"

"myself."

you snort. "that's not the same thing as doing it to someone else. you can actually feel when it's too much or too little because its your own body unlike the latter."

"you didn't let me finish!"

you blink at him. "go on."

"if i can tap into your cursed energy, i'll be able to feel what you feel, too."

this was far beyond your level of skill, but you were intrigued, nonetheless. you close your book and set it aside on the nightstand before sitting up straight to lean forward closer to him. "you swear it's not going to send me six feet under?"

he laughs at that. "i swear on my life."

"okay," you breathe, "let's do it, then"

hajime's already a moaning mess inside of your folds, fingers curling deep into your gummy spot whilst his rough tongue sloppily sucks at your arousal. "you ready?" he mutters against you.

your heart is beating a million miles a minute, but you trust him. you trust you'll be safe and it will be a very pleasant experience. "yes," you huff, "show me what you can do."

your entire body feels like it's on fire as it shakes, bolts of electric lust shooting through your veins at an incalculable speed from the ridges of his tongue. "fuck," he groans into your slick, "can tell it feels so good for you, sweetheart." he's in touch with your cursed energy, just like he said he would be, feeling his own rush of arousal mixed with yours. "you gonna come already?"

you can't even answer. you're screaming as your thighs close around his head, back arching enough to break it in half as your throat chokes out broken, ragged sounds. every inch of you is spiraling to orgasm, white flashes exploding in your vision as you spurt your hot, sweet cum out of you and all over hajime and the sheets. he's growling into your sex, filthily slurping up every drop you gave him.

but he's not stopping.

"h-hajime- ah!" you cry, staying in a state of overwhelming pleasure. "i-i can't- fuck, it's too m-much!"

"you can do it, baby," he hums, "give me more, fuck, give me more."

you're squirming uncontrollably on the sheets, electric shock zapping through you again, fingers tugging at his hair fervently as you slide your pussy along his tongue just so pathetically. "oh, holy fuck!" the sounds that are coming from you are so lewd and downright obscene as your thick cream coats hajime's tongue and fingers with each thrust. "i'm- i'm-"

"let go for me," he murmers, "shit, you're creaming so fucking much, such a pretty pussy." you let out a strangled cry as your juices pour out of you again, hajime's eyes rolling violently as he drinks you up like he knows he was made to do. "that's it," he coos, "jesus, i can't stop-"

"fuck, fuck, fuck!" you cry repeatedly, body exhausted but oh, so blissful. "'mmmm'gonna come a-again-"

"keep going," his teeth grazes your clit and you jolt harshly, icy hot shooting into your veins once more, "'m not stopping any time soon."

he keeps his word. you lost count of how many orgasms he gave you, but his sweet tongue shocked you to the core over and over again, and you learned that you wanted him to use his technique every fucking time from now on.

Your eyes widen when you realize that something is off. Usually, you’re straddling his hips by now, but he’s just not letting you up. He gives you just enough freedom for you to think you finally figured it out, then pushes you back into the mattress. It’s a cat-and-mouse game that excites Kashimo.

“Ah… Hajime…” Except you’re starting to pant and fight back more aggressively, soft mewls of his name escaping your lips occasionally. Poor thing, you’re starting to panic.

“What’s wrong? We’re just playing. C’mon, you can do better,” Kashimo taunts and slaps your ass lightly. You squirm, knees parting without your consent. It’s like your body is responding instinctively with submission. “Oh, I see. You like that, huh…”

A huff of air leaves your lungs as you’re promptly shoved under the man, back pressed to his strong front. That familiar crackle of electricity prickles against your skin, small pinches of warm particles signaling the growing arousal. You don’t see how Kashimo’s eyes dilate like a wolf ready to pounce, how his fangs peek out from under his lips.

Squirming shyly, you automatically place your palm in front of your clothed cunt to cover up the sight of a wet patch darkening the fabric. It earns you an annoyed tch.

“No, no, present yourself.”

“…What?”

“You heard me. Face down, ass up.”

You make a choked sound, face growing hotter at the thought of the lewd act. Sure, you can be cheeky; you even tease your man with double entendres sometimes, but exposing yourself like that on command takes more confidence.

You press your face into a puffy pillow as you hesitantly oblige. Face down, ass up… panties to the side and then—

A low hum vibrates in Kashimo’s chest when you spread your folds, squeezing your eyes shut—as if that could save you from whatever comes next. You barely part the delicate skin, not wanting to be obscene. Still, each of your soft exhales causes your hole to open up a bit, then close.

The cold air hits your nervous insides nevertheless, making it clench against your will.

After a moment, you risk glancing back.

Oh.

Kashimo looks so different. Faint horns of cursed energy are forming on the top of his head, white shocks of electrical impulses dancing around his face. You know an Amber Beast when you see one.

“Are you okay?” you ask oh so innocently, biting your lip.

No response.

Internally, Kashimo can only think about mounting and breeding you. Licking, biting, scratching, throwing you around into every position known to man. You’re so pretty all spread out and ready for him. Pretty and fuckable, and the swelling of your folds is like your pussy’s way of yelling fertile! Fertile! Fertile!

“Hajime-chan…?”

Kashimo takes a long breath. It’s like the uneasy wind before a storm.

“I’m going to get a little rough,” he then declares, tracing your wet slit lazily. “Can you take that?” To give you a taste, he leans down, completely smothering you into the mattress with controlled hunger. His breath ghosts along your shoulder before sharp teeth sink into the flesh. You jolt and whimper at the sudden motion.

All this time, you’ve never felt his true strength before, you realize. He’s been letting you win, the bastard.

“Hngh—you’re, ah—scaring me a little,” you reply, but your traitorous hips grind back against his crotch. The hardness there is undeniable, threatening to penetrate you at any moment.

Kashimo responds with a scoff, his hair falling into your face as he tilts his head to nibble on your ear gently. “Mh, you like it.”

A small thrust against your butt, just to demonstrate that you indeed lean more into it.

“Say it. Tell me you’ll be a good little prey for Hajime.”

“Hah… I’ll… I’ll be a,” you stutter, the dirty words don’t come easily. “I’ll be a good little prey for Hajime.”

Despite knowing Kashimo for years now, you still underestimated just how rough he can get. As soon as you echo his words with those dumbly parted lips and wide eyes, he flips you over onto your back, kissing you with tongue and teeth. He loses himself completely, groaning into your mouth and grinding his clothed cock against your drooling cunt like a man possessed. Your thighs are forced apart, then back until they hook over his broad shoulders.

“Gonna knot you,” he pants, pulling your bra down but not bothering to remove it. Somehow, you feel more naked like that than if you took it off completely. Kashimo bites into the plush of your breasts, determined to leave bruises behind.

Knot you? Silly Kashimo, that’s not something humans can do.

You blink, taking in his beast-like appearance, how his body is truly resembling that of a mythical creature now. Maybe he can knot you like this.

Oh, God…

He’s really going to knot you. You can see the determination in his eyes, the pure primal lust, the need to breed you good.

It’s scary, it’s exciting, and most importantly, it unlocks an obedient side of you. You arch your back, exposing your vulnerable tummy and neck, inviting Kashimo to take you like the good little prey you are.

“That’s a good girl…”

With another roll of his hips, you’re put into the nastiest mating press before Kashimo’s angry cock springs free. The tip leaks an unnatural amount of shiny precum.

“F-fuck… Hajime… so big…” you mewl, staring down at the intimidating size.

“Yeah, m’gonna be riiight,” he presses gently against your stomach, “here.”

“Ah—”

He slaps the tip against your slit, then enters you with one long, unyielding thrust, burying himself to the hilt. “That’s right, good girl, this hole is mine to stretch, mine to fill.”

Slurred-out little yours, yours, yours tumble out of your mouth, your body accepting the intrusion easily.

The rhythm isn’t necessarily faster, but it sure is harder, driving Kashimo deeeep into your pussy. He holds your hands firmly against the mattress, taking complete control over your body. The best feeling is that you give yourself over to it; not a strain of resistance remains in your muscles. You yield under Kashimo beautifully, you don’t even put in an effort to stop those wet, embarrassing puffs of air from escaping your cunt.

Then his cock starts to swell, more and more. Your breath hitches, your walls clamp down on him, and your body goes rigid.

“I-it’s happening—”

“Yeah, stay still.”

You don’t. The weird, expanding feeling in your tight channel sends alarm bells ringing in your head. What if it’s too much? What if he gets too big?

“No, no, stay still for me,” Kashimo repeats and places all his weight on you, pinning you down. “You’re a good little prey, you can take it, I promise.”

Your breathing speeds up, nails digging into Kashimo’s back hard enough to leave marks. You do your best to stay still, not that you can move.

“So big,” you whine.

“I know, I know, you’re such a brave girl for taking it.”

You gasp when Kashimo’s fingers find your clit and rub little circles around the hard nub to provide comfort while your poor pussy struggles around the swelling knot. The tremble in his movements is telling—he’s struggling too. You get tighter the more he grows inside of you and he still has the urge to pound you hard. The swelling doesn’t allow that. It’s too much. The pressure, the stimulation, they bring you close to the edge faster.

“Gonna cum from getting knotted? You really are fair game.”

The orgasm reaches you violently. For many seconds, you writhe and moan, urging Kashimo to tighten his hold on you.

It’s pure bliss and euphoria. Your walls tense up so hard, they squeeze Kashimo’s knot.

“Look at you, going dumb on my cock.”

“I am… m’your good little prey, I take what Hajime gives,” you respond out of breath.

“Fuck, you do.” He gives your cheek a soft bite, then licks a long stripe to soothe your skin. “You’re mine.”

“M’yours…”

“Heh,” Kashimo chuckles. You look so pretty, all marked up and claimed. Your used hole, your tired folds are hugging the base of his thick shaft, keeping him snug and warm. It takes a lot of discipline from the Mythical Beast Amber not to fuck you with his knot. He can patient, he needs to be. Oh, poor thing. Kashimo will have to kiss your abused skin to make up for the rough treatment. Yeah, he’ll make out with your pussy later and apologize thoroughly.

You’ve been staring at your phone for a while.

She told literally everyone :/

The notification of the message from your friend sits at the top of the display, persistent, mocking. You’ve made a terrible mistake and you want to undo it with every fiber of your being. Your free hand claws at your chest, wrinkling the hoodie into a fist like the material will absorb all the negative emotions overtaking your heart.

Shame, mostly shame.

You’re not even angry at the girl but rather at yourself. Every time you show vulnerability, you are punished. You should’ve known better. You only have yourself to thank for this.

A teardrop falls to the glass, distorting the letters under it. With shaking hands, you unlock the phone and immediately lock it again, bravery leaving you as soon as you see the messaging app’s icon.

Coming out to her was stupid. You should’ve never opened up.

She seemed so understanding in the moment and even told you she’d keep the secret. “I’m so happy to see you finally loosen up, darling,” she had told you, with a sweet, syrupy voice. “You’re so quiet, I’m glad I can get to know you.”

And you were glad to finally tell someone about this part of you. Now, everyone knows. You’re too busy hating yourself to see it as betrayal, or just a generally shitty thing to do.

Finally, you will yourself to open the app but instead of facing that conversation, you enter a different chat.

Hi! Can you tell Yaga I’m sitting this one out? I don’t feel so good. Must be the food from lunch.

Suguru responds, after about a minute.

Sure thing. Feel better soon :)

You assume that’s all it takes to have the situation handled. Suguru will tell Yaga you’re sick and you’ll be left alone for the afternoon. The best place to freak out in a familiar one, after all.

Shame returns in heavy waves that make you want to sink into the puffy pillows and soft sheets of your bed. Now everyone knows. You’ve heard how some people talk about girls like you.

In a way, you feel like a predator. You were having sleepovers with them and maybe you owed them a coming out, to be upfront, to be sent to change somewhere out of their sight. They’ll think of you as the female creep for always just quietly being there, getting to see their bodies. Not that you’re actually attracted to any of them. Based on their past comments, they’ll assume attraction.

In the end, you are the villain.

U ok?, comes the message but you don’t have it in yourself to reply. You need to process this horrible mistake first, spiral down into every possible outcome, make up worst-case scenarios, imagine all the things people are saying about you.

Suits you for coming out of your shell. Maybe it’s what you deserve for all your crimes. All those times you let the overly friendly girls hug you, all those times they touched your hair or complimented you. They must feel disgusted.

Dude wtf ure gay? The first reaction comes in.

Your chest heaves as a louder sob breaks free from your throat. The phone in your hand slips away as you curl up further into yourself. You want to reject this whole thing with every cell and shake your head, like that will undo it.

What you don’t see from your position is how your door creaks open and a tall man, roughly the size of a proper bookshelf, squeezes himself through the entrance. Only when the mattress dips under his weight as he lowers himself onto your bed do you gain awareness of your surroundings.

“Hey kid. Tell me about that—“

Yaga doesn’t get to finish. You launch yourself towards him like a clumsy frog, clinging to his arm for dear life. There is no time to question why he’s even bothering to check up on you, you’re too desperate for comfort at this point.

“I h-hate myself!” The words don’t ring as loudly and punishingly as you’d like them to, the stuttering and obvious crying weakens the effect.

Yaga freezes. For a moment, his hand hovers awkwardly in the air. The teacher is someone who can snap concrete in half with his bare hands but a crying teenager attached to him like a barnacle is what throws him off a bit.

“I hate myself.” The first time you said it, it sounded like an insult, this time, it’s just a statement. Your face presses hard into Yaga’s shoulder until the stars start appearing behind your eyelids.

His big hand lands between your shoulder blades, stiffly, firmly.

“What happened, kiddo?”

You shake your head again. Explaining it, saying the words out loud just makes it all the more real.

“I’m so— I’m so stupid! And disgusting! And…and now everyone knows,” you cry between sniffles and hiccups, your nails dig into the blanket bunching up between your knees. Poor Yaga, he has no idea what he walked into.

Your shoulders shake. Your eyes hurt. But nothing makes you disappear. The only thing that seems to keep you from being sucked into a panic attack is the mountain that is Yaga. You hide behind him. The hand on your back begins rubbing loose circles, hesitantly.

“You’re not stupid. You’re not disgusting.”

“Yes, I am,” you whimper. A damp patch grows against Yaga’s white sleeve as the tears keep coming. “Yes I am.”

Yaga sighs. It’s the long, deep kind, the same when Kusakabe tells him Satoru broke equipment again or when the higher-ups call in a meeting that definitely could’ve been an email. This is just another Tuesday for Masamichi Yaga. Meanwhile, your world seems to be falling apart.

“Look at me.” His hand trails to the nape of your neck, pulling the hoodie down and tilting your head gently with your hair tangling around his fingers. Your body doesn’t resist the movement and your red-rimmed eyes meet his. Your skin is red in uneven patches from all the crying, eyelids puffy.

“There you are.”

You don’t like how the man’s voice softens. He’s usually hard on everyone because he has high hopes for everyone. So what does it say about you that Yaga is now all understanding and gentle. He’s even about to call you— “Sweetheart.”

Your eyes well up again and a fresh wave of tears rolls down your cheeks.

“You’re a bright kid. You’re a good kid.” His thumb wipes your tears, one by one. “What happened, mh?”

Your mouth opens. Nothing comes out. Because saying it out loud means it exists. It means it isn't some awful nightmare you'll wake up from. It means Yaga will know too.

Many moments of silence pass. During that time, your brain goes down another spiral. Is it okay to tell Yaga? Is he safe? In that second, you really just want comfort from someone.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Suddenly, all the memories of when Yaga was safe come to the surface of your consciousness, like a little collage of postcards you can look at fondly.

When he made a cursed corpse for you to hang out with during your first week at Jujutsu High. When he decided to let Shoko just stick to healing. When you got your period during a mission and he bought you pads without making it weird.

“I…”

When he caught you putting makeup on Suguru and he didn’t even bat an eye.

“I like girls.”

Silence settles, Yaga’s expression doesn’t change. There is no hitch in his breath or a dilation in his pupils. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking and the uncertainty unnerves you.

“I also like boys but that’s not… not the issue,” you try to fill the uncomfortable silence and the way your muscles tense up, it’s evident there’s a ramble incoming. Before that can happen though, Yaga smiles, pulling the brakes on your messy swirl of thoughts.

“That’s okay.” He speaks so calmly. Less like a teacher, more like a… you don’t dare finish that. Masamichi Yaga thinks it’s okay? You’re bisexual and it’s okay?

“It is?”

“Mhm.” Both hands cradle your face now, so gently that the rough hands—more acquainted with punching faces—feel foreign on your skin. “You’re okay. Smart and mellow under that composure. Not stupid and definitely not disgusting.”

Your throat tightens and the sob that was about to claw its way up turns into an ugly, choking sound, making you want to curl into yourself again.

“…I…I told someone else and— and now all the girls know and—“ A wet hiccup makes you cut yourself off. In that moment, your phone buzzes again and you can assume it’s another appalled message.

“Are they mean to you?”

“…a little.”

Yaga nods to himself, as if filing away each detail.

“Listen, kid. You’re at Jujutsu High. You’re safe here. Focus on that for now, yeah?”

When you don’t respond, just stare at him, still sniffling, Yaga tucks a stray lock behind your ear. “Kid?”

“B-but…” Your lip wobbles. “But everyone knows.”

“Everyone?”

“A lot of people.”

“That’s not everyone. And I’m willing to bet that those who really matter, they would still love you.”

“But I’m… I’m gross, sensei.”

“You’re not. You feel a lot of guilt and shame. Right? Those can be icky feelings.” Yaga sighs again and slowly pulls you into a hug. His chin rests on the top of your head, arms curling around your shoulders. You give yourself over to the movement. “Oh, sweetheart, what am I going to do with you?”

Your blubbering quiets down into little whimpers. Your phone is still unattended but you try to do what Yaga told you. Focus on what you have at Jujutsu High. Suguru is nice. Shoko is chill. It’s all okay at Jujutsu High, the people in your phone can’t get to you.

Your breathing is still uneven, hiccuping in little broken waves that make your whole body jolt. Yaga’s hand stays at your back, slow circles continuing like he’s trying to teach your lungs a rhythm again.

“Alright,” he says after a while, voice lower now. “We’re going to do something simple.”

You blink against his sleeve. “W-what…?”

“Sit up a little.”

You hesitate, then reluctantly shift back. The loss of full contact makes panic flare for a second—until his hand moves to your shoulder and anchors you there instead.

“Good. Now breathe in.”

You try. It comes out shaky. “Again.”

After a few cycles, your chest stops feeling like it’s collapsing in on itself quite so violently. The wet trails on your cheeks start drying up.

“There,” he says quietly. “You’re still here.”

Your fingers are still clenched in his sleeve.

“I messed everything up.”

Yaga exhales through his nose, like he’s thinking carefully about every word before it exists.

“You didn’t mess everything up,” he corrects. “You told someone something about yourself. That’s not a crime. But you do need to learn to read people’s intentions better. You’ve always had trouble with that.”

His index finger boops your nose, though his voice grows rougher around the edges.

“I remember how easily non-sorcerer lies slipped away from you when you first started going on missions. You want to see the best in people don’t you? That’s not fair. You always want to see the worst in yourself.”

The storm in your head calms. It’s so peaceful when Yaga-sensei explains something.

“You’re a brave girl for telling me. Good job.”

You don’t quite know what to do with praise when you’re still half-drowning in your own head. The messages are still waiting.

“I should… I should apologize to them.”

“I don’t think you owe them an apology.”

“But—“

“No. Something was taken from you today. You deserve to rest.” When you don’t respond, Yaga continues. “Say it, sweetheart.”

“I… I deserve to rest.”

“Good job.” A soundless kiss is planted on the top of your head and you feel yourself crumbling into a million pieces. “Here’s what we’ll do. I’m taking Satoru on the mission and Suguru’s going to stay here with you.”

“What?”

“He won’t ask you about anything. You know how he is. I just don’t want to leave you alone right now. He’ll stay here and you’ll spar a bit or do homework, nothing too much. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Suguru is nice. You respect his opinion. You respect Yaga’s opinion. Knowing that he cares is the lifeline for you. Their words matter more. Yaga-sensei is probably the best teacher ever.

“Sweetheart?”

“Yes?”

“I’m proud of you.”

Kashimo is in complete disbelief, how could he allow someone like you to get him in a position like this?! Making his guard go completely down, letting you control the pace. He already came twice at this point, with no end in sight. 

“Aww Hajime, you doing okay? You want me to stop?” Your sweet voice almost pissed him off. It felt patronizing, having the nerve to ask him if he’s okay knowing damn well what you’re doing to him. 

“I-I’m fine, woman” Kashimo scoffs, “just enjoying how well your pretty pussy takes all of me, I’m so proud of you.” His sudden praise turned you on, at least that’s what he thinks from the way you pulsed around him. He began to feel his body tingle, balls tightening up.

“Go ahead Haji’, cum for me again.” As much as he couldn’t stand being told what to do, he couldn’t help but let go. He filled you up so well, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he thrusted up into you. Kashimo felt so pathetic, he couldn't believe that he's just allowing you to tell him what to do like this. However, he couldn’t even fight it if he wanted to, the warmth of your cunt causing him to feel so overwhelmed.

“Baby,” Kashimo lets out in a shaky breath, hands on either side of your waist. “I can’t a-anymore.” 

“Yes you can, handsome.” You lower yourself onto him once again, watching him groan in overstimulation as your walls squeeze him further. “What happened to my strong man? I thought you of all people would be able to take it.”

Your words angered him, but that emotion quickly fizzled out as you continued to bounce up and down his throbbing length. The sound of skin hitting skin mixed with his previous orgasms made his head spin. You begin to feel yourself getting close too, watching Kashimo completely unravel underneath you.

“I’m gonna -fuck- gonna cum again.”Kashimo could barely get his words out, watching the strings of your arousal connect and break apart over and over again. Your orgasm hit you without warning, a squeal leaving your lips as you felt your body shake on top of his. It didn’t take long for Kashimo to follow, face scrunching up as he released once more, stuffing you full. 

You leaned over to litter his face in kisses, using this vulnerable state of his to leave as many as you could. He couldn’t help but smile, kissing you back as his hand caressed your face. Before you could react, he quickly flipped you over, sweet smile turning mischievous as he hovered above you.

“It’s my turn now, be a good girl for me would ya?”