#kashimo headcanons

you were a first-grade modern sorcerer who is a player of the Culling Games

your cursed technqiue is actually strong but your personality isn't cruel

you were forced to participate in the Culling Games

you don't kill any players unless you actually have to

however, you've already earned 70 points

one day Kashimo found you in some district, you were alone and looked like an easy target

he didn't announce himself, just attacked

but you fought back

you turned out to be a worthy opponent and it made things more interesting for Kashimo

he's way more impatient, fast and aggressive than you but your calmness actually saves you

after about 15 minutes of the fight you make your last most powerful move

Kashimo falls on the ground, breathing in and out heavily

you're standing over him and he looks up at you

he watches you also trying to steady your breath, he's ready that you're gonna finish him

'she's beautiful', he thinks, 'i've never seen a woman this strong'

you didn't do anything, so he tried to stand up to continue the fight

'stop', you suddenly say in a quiet voice, 'i don't want to kill you'

Kashimo is confused

you're clearly stronger than many other sorcerers in here, even him, though he doesn't want to admit it

you could end him now. but you chose... mercy?

it didn't make any sense

'you're weird', he says and furrows

he lays on the ground for a while before he feels that you're about to leave

you started walking away as soon as you realized he's no longer a threat

Kashimo stands up and starts following you

he's walking behind you, 10 steps behind

he is silent but you're aware of his presence. you keep walking along the street anyway

Kashimo can't bare the silence for too long, so he speaks, 'why did you spare me? don't you know what's the whole point of the Culling Games, huh?'

you sigh and turn your head to him, 'of course. it doesn't mean i'm gonna kill everyone i see'

'that's exactly what it means', he wanted to say but didn't

he keeps following you like a lost puppy

Kashimo feels annoyed and confused. he watched the back of your head as you keep walking ahead of him. he’s surprisingly thoughtful

he breaks the silence again, 'how many points do you have?'

'does it matter?'

'this woman is unbreable', he thinks

'Kogane', Kashimo speaks

little shinigami appears next to him, 'yes, Kashimo Hajime?'

'give me information about this player', he says, looking directly at you

you turn to him immediately

'this is l/n y/n! the first-grade modern sorcerer. current point: 70', Kogane explains in a friendly tone

'are you serious?', you ask, clearly irritated

'you didn't want to answer', he says and shrugs

you turn away and start going away faster than before but he followed your steps and kept up with you quite well

you stop and turn to him one more time, but you're angry now

'why are you following me?!', your voice is louder than you expected

Kashimo stops and freezes

he doesn't know the answer, he can't explain why he keeps walking behind you, even though you almost killed him a few minutes ago

'my name is Kashimo Hajime. i've reached 200 points in a few days. and i'm the one who added the rule about the access to players information'

you blink twice and don't answer. that's not exactly what you asked…

'i'm gonna fight Sukuna. the Culling Game is the chance for me to fight the strongest. that's why-'

'okay', you interrupt his monologue, 'what does it have to do with me?'

his confident experssion fades a little and becomes somehow softer

'let's work in a team', Kashimo says

you couldn't believe it

your shoulders relaxed a little bit

'you know, i won't take a risk of fighting Sukuna', you say calmly

'you don't have to', he replies immediately

'just be by my side before i reach him'

you study his face for a long moment to find a lie in his words

he notices it

'Kogane', he says and his Kogane appears again, 'give l/n y/n 30 points'

your Kogane appears too and says in cheerful voice, 'Kashimo Hajime just gave you 30 points! total points: 100'

you look at him, both surprised and confused

'you... you didn't have to', you struggle to even say something

'now you can add your own rule', he says

but then Kashimo looks up at you one more time, 'please, join me'

it's not like his pride allows him to say please very often. but with this woman… he really needs her to be close now for whatever reason

you make a few steps to shorten the distance between you two

'okay, Kashimo-kun', you say with a soft smile, 'don't let me down'

his heart skips a beat

Kashimo being supplied with a very special Kogane, for an unexplained reason. He doesn’t touch real women, he can’t be vulnerable like that but luckily, his cute sidekick isn’t exactly real, or so he assumes.

You gasped, hips jerking. “Hajime—”

He didn’t slow down. Tongue flicking faster, fingers curling rough against that spot. Your hand slid into his hair, gripping tight, tugging slightly as the pressure built too quick.

He smirk against your pussy and kept going.

It hit hard. Your back arched, thighs clamping around his head as you squirted suddenly, soaking his chin and the sheets. A broken moan tore out of you, fingers yanking his hair sharp.

Kashimo groaned low, licking through every pulse, drinking it down like he couldn’t get enough. He didn’t pull back until you were shaking and oversensitive.

“Fuck,” he muttered, “Do that again.”

pretty bored so here’s some personal headcanons of mine for Hajime Kashimo (nsfw).

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•Hajime kashimo is a switch, he would be a bratty bottom, the type to tease whether he's on top, or you are. "Is that the best you can do?" he loves say especially when you're riding him.

• Hajime kashimo loves challenges. Seeing how far he can push your limits till you're crying, and shaking for him, calling you a "Crybaby" the second he see's those tears fall.

•Kashimo likes to edge the both of you over, and over again just to see who will cum first. (obviously you.)

•When kashimo get's impatient like takes matters into his own hands, it doesn't matter what you're doing. You're riding him too slow? He flips the two of you over, and fucks you at his own pace. Quick, and brutal. You're taking too long to make him cum when you're giving him head? Fine. He'll just face-fuck you instead. His hands placed on the back of your head, thrusting his hips into your face till he can feel your throat clenching around his cock when you gag.

•When kashimo bottoms for the first time, you overstimulate him. His face gets all red, and flustered, babbling, and whining about wanting to cum with tears in the corners of his eyes.

•Kashimo loves doing "gross" things like spitting in your mouth, just to call it that after, and act disgusted at the fact you actually gave in submissively. calling you "Pathetic.", or "Easy to bend." .

•When kashimo eats you out, he wants you to cum on his tongue that way when he leans in for a kiss he spits your own cum into your mouth, letting you taste yourself, and he laughs about it after watching your reaction.

•Kashimo likes to eat you out till the point of overstimulation, sending sending shocks of pain, and pleasure into you through your clit. He loves it when you arch away from anything he does that way he gets to hold you down.

•Kashimo is sadistic. He loves seeing you squirm, and cry for him. He loves it when you cry, getting to mock your whines, and moans. He loves breaking you down, he might be into humiliation....

•Sometimes when you think it's "too much" when he eats you out, thinking you're just extra sensitive that day is really just Kashimo sending sparks of electricity into you through his tongue.

•Kashimos the type to want to fuck in public. The thrill of knowing someone could catch you both makes him harder. Kashimo is willing to fuck anywhere, abandoned building, secluded alley ways. He likes to fuck you against the wall, doggy-style with one leg up as he has you on floor, his thrusts are reckless.

•Kashimo doesn't care if the two of you get caught or not. He wants the other players to know who owns you, and who runs this game.

Thats all fr, those r just some of my headcanons for the God of lightning himself. Tyyy for reading!♡

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I've already seen this one a few times but I whole heartily agree, he not only picks on his nails but also the skin around it.

The most realistic way I could think of him becoming interesting in you is combat.

He goes on walks and when he does, he picks up trinkets, sometimes he mindlessly does and then gives it to you bcz it's ugly or not interesting to him anymore lol

He wouldn't say it but if you're the type to dye your hair and you dye it cyan to match his, he wouldn't be overly expressive, since I feel like he has many other ways of expression himself but he'd be happy obviously.

As for his love language!! As I mentioned: Trinkets!!! And trust, for him, it's a huge deal to let you touch him/be with him is already enough. Not only that but to fight beside him.

Hairstyles!! Kashimo, Is comfortable enough in his masculinity to present or act feminine. I also think that just bcz of this people see him as a femboy which he is obviously not.

And in exchange you guys would play fighting.

Absolutely despises people who spit on the ground mid battle, except he finds himself doing it.

Probably uses his nyoi to reach you, if you're far he'll hook it on the belt hoop of your bottoms.

Lowkey canon but he wouldn't understand any of the memes nowadays and would take it literally, similar to Sukuna, I fear.

Taking care of each other!! Spending time with Kashimo means he'll pay attention to your needs and expects you to care for him the same way. His reminders might not be the most gentle but hey, he cares.

Hajime wouldn't be a big user of nicknames, your name works just fine for him.

Overall, He wouldn't take a relationship as his top priority.

a/n: I need to finish reading the jjk manga.

Flowers for a Lonely Warrior

The Edo period. Francisca grew up on a pirate ship and was used to living between the sea and foreign lands. In Japan she spent more than a year, hiding under another name and watching the people she would one day have to betray. When she is discovered, the escape begins. She is saved by a lonely warrior whose life is almost at its end. His house becomes her refuge, and her conversations with him her salvation. Only later does Francisca realize that the man who saved her lives in a world of power to which she never belonged.

Part 1. turquoise

She ran for a long time, so long that her body began to move automatically. Her throat burned from the cold air, her heart seemed about to burst from her chest. The footsteps behind her faded and returned, or perhaps it was the blood pounding in her ears, replacing the sounds. She no longer tried to understand. She wanted to believe that they had fallen behind, or maybe simply dissolved into the darkness of winter.

A light snowfall with terrifying speed turned into a full blizzard. Snow struck her face, her eyes, tangled in her porous hair, melted and immediately froze again. Her fingers disappeared. She could no longer feel her hands or her feet, only the sharp and aching pain above, where sensation still remained.

The poor girl did not know that bones could hurt from the cold.

Who knew that winter could do such a thing?

The main thing she had learned in her short life was not to stop.

Never and before nothing.

If you stop - the end.

One step, then another.

The forest beneath her feet was endless. The trees stood too close and too identical. The trail had been here, it certainly had been, she remembered that, but not now. Everything had turned white. Direction was lost, and nothing remained in her head except counting steps.

«Damn it. They didn’t even let me throw on someone’s hide.»

The frost crept under the dress, touching the skin, without shame or any restraint. The wind seemed to deliberately search for vulnerable places and found them instantly.

Breathe.

Need to breathe.

I can’t breathe.

At some point the girl couldn’t take it anymore and leaned against the sticky, ribbed bark and the touch made it even worse. She pressed her forehead to the trunk, trying to pull herself together, and then noticed the silhouette.

A tall shadow. A black stain among equally black trees.

The cold at that moment no longer frightened her. Because if it was one of them, she had no strength left to run.

It seemed the shadow spoke. The voice was lost in the blizzard, in the boiling blood in her ears. She did not catch a single word.

He came closer. Too close. She didn’t even manage to step back, the stupid, weak body would not obey. She struck first.

A pathetic, limp slap.

That is how a small animal strikes when it has already been cornered, and it is its sad, dying reflex.

A hand caught her. A man’s hand.

That grip is hard to mistake. The fingers closed in a familiar way, a warrior. Definitely a warrior. The man tried to grab her from behind, press her, hold her. She jerked, rasping from pain.

With the last of her strength, through the numbness, the fugitive sank her teeth into his hand. Metal struck her mouth, and something unpleasantly old. But she clenched her jaws with all her strength.

A blow to the head.

⸻

She forced open her swollen eyes. Bright white light, so unpleasant, so cutting. Then, through the blur of eyes burned by the cold, a low ceiling could be seen. The girl raised herself on her elbow, uncertainly, there was not much strength.

The room was empty, almost completely, and the tatami under the woman’s body were hard, dry, smelling of grass. Somewhere nearby there was clearly a source of heat. A hearth, or a brazier. In Japanese houses this is how they warm themselves: coals, warmth close to the floor. Stupid, inconvenient and very dangerous.

She looked at her toes, then even moved them. Amazing! Nothing was frostbitten. The pain still crackled in the muscles, but quite tolerable. Tingling, a pulling feeling, as if the blood was returning too insistently.

All of this was almost a miracle.

She knew how it could have ended.

She did not like Japanese houses. Too small, poor and most importantly absolutely impractical. Everything seemed temporary. Paper, wood, straw under the feet. She slowly stood up, and with a sharp flash the memory returned: forest, cold, silhouette, hand. She stopped there and realized that if it had been them, she would hardly be lying in warmth now. That calmed her a little, but only a little.

She looked at the dress, the hem torn to shreds.

The fabric had split, dirty, crumpled. The last thing she had left from her native ship. From a normal life.

«Damn, this “hero” didn’t even loosen the corset.»

Swaying, the girl moved toward the sliding door.

These doors seemed unreliable, they could be smashed with a shoulder, caught and shattered. Behind the door was a narrow corridor. She stepped forward, trying to walk softly without making unnecessary noise. But the floor decided otherwise, creaking absolutely shamelessly .

The corridor led to the exit and the garden.

It was still cold, though it could not compare to the previous night. Before her opened a view: small snow-covered trees, a bridge, a pond.

A calm, even beautiful place.

And then a male voice sounded behind her.

— Finally awake.

She did not understand at once, the words reached her with delay. Her Japanese was far from perfect, especially in such exhaustion.

Something unpleasant pulled in her stomach.

Alarm, the kind that appears before thought, an absolutely primitive feeling. That unsettled her. Not so much the fear itself, but rather the sensation, it was new.

She had never been afraid like this before. Not once. A storm, when the ship cracks and water is already in the boots, or a blade at the throat… and even yesterday’s chase.

None of that knocked the ground from under her feet. There was always the same thing left - clarity.

Take a step, and then the next.

And now, no. Her body no longer belonged to her.

She turned sharply.

When it is frightening, it is important to make the first movement. Not a big one, any. Then panic does not have time to catch up.

— Who are you and what do you want?

The voice came out hoarse and firm. She looked straight into turquoise eyes.

And only now did she truly see him.

An old man? Yes. A man? Also, yes.

And she had never seen such eyes.

Especially in old men, especially in Japanese.

A scatter of small scars across his face, the skin grayish, stretched. One could give him fifty, or ninety. In her head it did not add up, and that made it even stranger.

— I helped you, — he said with some mockery. — You could be grateful. Your own people are looking for you.

She clenched her jaw.

— They’re not mine. Want to hand me over?

He looked at her a little longer, clearly evaluating.

— You resisted to the end, pleasant of course. Rest, and дальше дело твое.

She swayed. She grabbed the edge of the door so as not to fall.

— And if they come? What then?

He was already walking past, and the answer sounded after a second’s pause.

— They won’t reach you.

And that was enough to make her uneasy.

He went toward the garden. Just before leaving he said without turning back:

— Eat. They’ll bring it to you.

The girl was alone again, and the fear returned, covering her with a new wave. Because now she was sure, he had not promised protection, he simply did not see a problem.

She turned to look after him.

The man was clearly not poor, that was obvious immediately. But also not one of those show-off idiots, polished, perfect. The clothes were simple, and the house expensive. Everything in place, but without the usual Japanese tastelessness.

A warrior? Retired? A ronin?

There were such men, but rarely. Life was rather hard for them, but he did not quite resemble them.

Thoughts flashed through her head.

She swayed again and returned to the room. Her legs were like cotton, like after a long binge. The floor creaked, and how irritating it was. She sat down on the dry tatami. She sat like that for a while, until her head stopped swimming.

Then the women came. Two of them, middle-aged. Dark yellowish skin, and those dull kimonos, without any decoration. Every movement of the women made them smaller. What a disgusting thing… to serve. They placed a low table. On it was that unpleasant food.

Rice, miso, fish. Some small things more, pickles.

The women muttered something without turning their backs to her. She did not understand a single word. The women muttered through fear, surely basic politeness spoken by people used to trembling.

As soon as the servants left the small room, the guest leaned toward the food.

What nonsense it was, eating on the floor like an animal.

Wounded hands took the chopsticks, it did not work immediately to lift a handful of rice, well, whatever. She began to eat, and the food had no warm, familiar taste.

One must eat to live, not live to eat, right?

The dishes did not seem poisoned, but it made no difference.

The situation – shit.

This man is not salvation. And that usually ends badly.

After finishing the meal, the girl lay down without undressing, only loosening the corset.

❝ They say lightning don't strike twice , Then what do you make of me ? ❞

What?: JJK [Jujustu Kaisen] | Gods and Mythology AU | Non-Canon/Canon Divergent. Who?: Hajime Kashimo.

Synopsis: When Man was young, Gods were already old as old could ever be; having carried humanity into their history, and both wrote and rewrote the history of those who took their divinity and boons for granted.

The world, still, is young, but a toddler in comparison to the crucible of creation. And the Gods? They hold the power—ends and beginnings, order and chaos, annihilation and rebirth. Now what can we do but pray? Not for their favor, exactly, but to never cross their path.

Hajime Kashimo was not born—he was unleashed. Forged in the heart of the first storm, he is the God of Storms and Strife, a divine force drawn to battle like lightning to a blade. Across ages and empires, he has been both omen and executioner—unclaimed by gods, unmatched by men, and above all else: A STORM LOOKING FOR ITS COUNTERPOINT.

Further Reading:

You were already shaking, thighs slick, body a map of his claim. He’d been at you for hours. A marathon, he called it, voice low and mocking as he pinned you down again. Your back arched off the mattress, spine screaming from the way he’d thrown you earlier, but the pain only melted into heat between your legs.

“Still crying?” Kashimo’s breath ghosted hot against your ear. His grin was feral, teeth stained faint red from the last bite. “Good. I like you like this—ruined and fucking dripping for more.” You whimpered as his hand cracked across your cheek, hard enough that stars burst behind your eyes. The slap echoed, sharp and wet. Your lip split fresh, blood trickling warm down your chin. He leaned in and licked it slow, savoring, before his mouth crashed into yours. The kiss was all teeth and hunger, copper flooding your tongue as he bit your lower lip harder. You moaned into it, masochistic thrill shooting straight to your core. Pain and pleasure twisted so tight you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

He pulled back just enough to look at you—eyes wild, electric blue hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. “Beg.”

“Please,” you gasped, voice hoarse from screaming his name through the last round. “More, Kashimo. Hurt me.”

His laugh was dark, delighted. He reared back and punched your thigh—solid, bruising force that made your whole leg spasm. You cried out, fresh tears spilling, and he groaned at the sight, hips grinding against you. Dacryphilia, he’d admitted once with that crooked smirk. Your tears got him harder than anything.

He shoved your knees wider, slamming back inside you in one brutal thrust. No gentleness left; he fucked like he fought—relentless, vicious, claiming. Every stroke punched the air from your lungs. His fingers dug into the already-black bruises on your hips, reopening the mottled skin. You were so full it hurt, stretched and aching, but you clenched around him anyway, greedy for the burn.

Another slap, this one across your breast. Then his teeth sank into the curve of your shoulder—deep, deliberate. You felt skin break, blood welling hot and immediate. He sucked hard, moaning against the wound as he drank you down, hips never slowing. The pain bloomed white-hot, radiating through your chest, and you came again with a broken sob, walls fluttering around his cock.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growled, pulling out only to flip you onto your stomach. Your face pressed into the pillow, ass up, body trembling. He didn’t give you time to breathe. A heavy punch landed on your outer thigh, then another on the meat of your ass. The impacts rattled through bone. You were going to be purple for weeks—deep, ugly blooms that would make sitting in lecture halls tomorrow pure torture. The thought only made you wetter.

He bit the back of your neck, breaking skin again, and thrust back in from behind. Deeper this way. Meaner. His hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back so he could see your tear-streaked face.

“Crying so pretty for me,” he rasped, slapping your cheek again, lighter this time but still stinging. Blood from your lip smeared across your jaw. “My perfect little masochist. You’d let me kill you like this, wouldn’t you?”

You nodded frantically, another orgasm building fast and vicious. “Yes—God, yes—”

He punched your side, not hard enough to crack ribs but enough to bruise deep, and that was it. You shattered, screaming into the pillow as he fucked you through it, chasing his own release. When he came, it was with a guttural sound, teeth buried in your shoulder again, flooding you hot and deep while your body milked every drop.

He collapsed over you, chest heaving, but he wasn’t done. Not even close. His fingers traced the fresh bite marks, pressing into the blood-slick skin until you hissed.

“Catch your breath,” he murmured, almost tender. Almost. “Then I’m flipping you over and starting again. I want you bleeding in new places before sunrise.”