I think one of the Worst Things about wanting to find period clothing from other cultures, is trying to find fucking casual/work clothes. Like no, I do not want to see all these fancy intricate kimonos, I want to see jinbei, and field work outfits so I don't put a damn obi on this poor boy so he has a belt to hang his knife from.
I LOVE it when you finally figure out how your oc world works and have your story click together like a beautiful and ornate puzzle finally being completed and you feel the gears in your brain shift from realization to sheer power like
thinking about sukuna promising not to lay waste to your village if they leave you as a sacrifice once you’re of age 😮💨
cw for kidnapping?, sukuna being a Big Time Stalker and Yandere but what’s new, ancient for sukuna ftw, mentions of violence n death
he would be so enamored with you when you wander off into the woods one day as a young child and aren’t immediately frightened to see the king of curses. you don’t cower in fear or beg for mercy, but instead ask him why is face looks like that and how he could have so many arms. what did you even do with that many arms?
he just laughs at you before you pout, asking what’s so funny and he just replies with “nothing, little one”. the rest of the day is spent in his arms as he tells you all the tales that those four arms have lived through. you were none the wiser to his bloodlust nor his reputation as a curse. for someone who found it necessary to be feared and worshipped, he found it strange how he endeared he was like with your unabashed questions and comments about just about everything, including him.
by the end of the evening, you can hear your family calling out to you for you to return. you ask your new friend if you can see him again tomorrow so he can tell you more stories, but he sends you off with a gentle pat and says “just wait for me, little one. we’ll see each other again one day”
and just like that, he was gone when you turned to look back at him, only seeing the sunset casting down between the mountains behind you. you were overjoyed to tell your parents all about your new friend, unaware of their horror at your encounter with a curse. but not just any curse, the king of curses.
“w-what did you say his name was, dear?”
“huh, i don’t know. he didn’t tell me. but he told me to wait for him so he can see me again!”
desperate for the safety of their daughter, your poor parents went to seek council at the town’s sorcerers for protection. perhaps they should have kept this information to themselves, for the sorcerers decided that in order to appease sukuna’s wrath for the town, their daughter would be offered as his sacrifice when he comes back for her like he promised.
the town cast you, not daring to associate themselves with the sacrifice lest they catch the attention of the king of curses themselves. you were never akin to their reasoning, you just felt their willful ignorance at best and blatant cruelty at worst.
despite the fact that the town had sukuna’s interests in mind, he could not feel more at ease with his decision to burn the place to the ground. a town so willingly to throw you in harms way without a second thought to save themselves was a town that simply did not deserve to be spared his wrath and might. the cruelty shown to his little bride did not go unnoticed either, even as she grew into a fine young woman, no one dared to cross paths with her unless absolutely necessary.
it only fueled his rage when he would see her sitting under the tree they met all those years ago, letting her heart openly bleed and weep from the sheer loneliness she felt without her only friend. or at least she thinks she had, her parents always told her that he was just imaginary, for no one could look the way she described him to be. it only further broke her heart, letting the world of being utter alone weigh heavy on her spirit.
but when he saw her at his sacrificial post, bound in heavy chains and rope at the witching hour of the evening, scantily dressed despite the downpour of the storm brewing, utterly left for dead in the name of appeasing him. the look of betrayal and terror on your face was enough to make him want to set the world ablaze so that there would be no one left to hurt you ever again.
“i told you i would see you again one day, little one.”
his voice startled you and you felt a flush of shame run deep within you. here was your only friend, finally and truly in the flesh, yet were on the brink of exhaustion from the cold and the sorrow you wept at being discarded so easily. but sukuna broke the chains with ease, wrapping your shivering form in his own cloak and arms, holding you close to him.
“rest easy now. the world has been cruel to you, beloved. i’ll see fit to burn it to the ground so you can finally feel its warmth.”
The last thing you expected was for your everyone besides your grandmother to abandon you in your family, the other thing you didn't expect was to come to work under a noble family. Your grandmother had friends in high places, and got you a job as a assistant to a princess. Strangely, you became quick friends with her and she held you in high regards. While meeting a few different people at a meeting she was to attend, things broke out and now you two were on the run with the handsome noble man, Kaeya Alberich. He was to protect you two, but during the run, he was to find out about your sleep walking habits. Climbing into his bed with him, cuddling up to him. He thought nothing of it at first, till your hands started to travel his body, and before he knew it, you were touching his most intimate areas. He did find you attractive, so who was he to stop you when he had these desires too. As you woke up mid hand job, hearing his soft moans and whines in your ears you couldn't help but continue your actions. The noises were riling you up, and you couldn't stop at this point. As he came in your hand, the princess opened the door, "...guys we need to get moving, wait...what..." And her eyes went wide and she closed the door. "Really guys?!" She yelled and hurried off.
|| alright, this is just a drabble i made for Kaeya, from a dream i had last night. If you would like a full 2 to 3 chapter fanfiction for this, let me know. If a lot of people want it, id be down. This also isnt the end of my dream i had, there was a lot more to it that would be added to the fanfiction. ||
Warnings: nsfw/mdni. shameless smut. mildly dubious consent. naoya kind of needs his own warning. pegging, shibari, fingering, face riding (fem receiving), degradation, dom!reader. afab reader.
summary: the reader pegging naoya that's it that's the fic
a/n: if this reads like an inebriated person wrote it, im sorry, they did
Word Count: 3.2k
Not a single man angers you more than Zenin Naoya.
Though you are no Zenin, you’ve spent much time working with the clan. Personally, you couldn’t care less about the politics that follow the jujutsu world. But the pay was good.
His pride is far too inflated for his own good. A man like him isn't used to not getting his way. Rarely has he been told no. The world is built for people like him. His pride is far too inflated for his own good. He could stand to be knocked down a peg. Or several.
Your personalities clash in the worst way possible. Your strength rivals his in a way he can't stand. You’re loud, and outspoken when it comes to him. Not many people are. There are very few things you let him get away with. At first glance, you’re far from compatible. Behind closed doors he was just as intolerable. In private he was the same. But you brought out a different side of him. You wouldn't go as far as to call it good, or even better than normal. It was just different.
People talked. They always do. The way he acted around you had not gone unnoticed. You seemed to be the only person who bothered him.
He's not really sure how he got here.
His embarrassment of your request is only lessened by the look of hunger in your eyes.
Shock, and agitation fill him.
He remembers your conversation in the hall; an argument. He needed something from you, but he doesn't remember what. Naoya's eyes are glued to you, glued to every dip and curve of your body. He's flushed from his forehead to his chest, blush dusting the tips of his nose and ears, visible under the collar of his shirt.
The bed dips under his weight as he sits. You look at him like he's prey. It's not a look many have given him. There's an all-consuming hunger in your eyes.
Your hand moves to cup his hot cheek, your thumb running across his glossy bottom lip. Your skin is flushed, your pupils shrunk down to pinpricks. The look in your eyes alone is enough to make him freeze. He’s never seen anything quite like it. No matter the situation, you were always composed. Naoya always admired your ability to keep a level head. Though he would never say it, your strength—not even as a sorcerer, but overall—was admirable. Unspoken admiration is the best you are going to get out of him.
The slightest bit of panic flashes across his eyes. He lets out a small grunt of pain as you twist his arm behind his back. The side of his face presses into the sheets. They’re cool against his hot skin.
“We’re getting three things out of the way first,” you say, “one: just because I don't like you, it doesn't mean I'm going to do something to you that you don't want.
“Two: you can stop this at any time. Stoplight method: green means continue, yellow to proceed with caution, red to get me to stop.
“Three: you’re not fucking me. I’m fucking you. Got it?”
He quickly nods. Internally he cringes; his reaction was a bit too eager for his tastes.
“Good.” You lean down to nip at his ear. Your breath is warm against his cheek. “Color?”
“Green.” Naoya’s voice is weak. His throat feels dry.
It takes no effort to grab his other arm, looping the ropes around his wrists, finishing them off with a fancy knot. You make sure you’re able to slide a few fingers between the ropes and his skin; you don't want them to be too tight. As much as you don’t like the guy, you have no plans on hurting him. Not in that way at least. He can struggle all he wants, but the knot is far too complicated for him to undo while unable to see it.
Your thigh grinds against his growing erection. As if by instinct he parts his thighs a bit, giving you room to sit between them.
Your hands work to undo the buttons of his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders. It gets caught on the ropes. His chest is rather toned- not as toned as another Zenin, but toned. Your hands travel up his body, admiring the hard planes of muscle.
His pants are the next to come off. Your fingers press under the waistband, tugging them down his hips. He has to lift his hips a bit to allow you to slide them—along with his boxers—completely off. His half hardened cock springs free, leaking precum onto his bare thighs. The movement is awkward. In the process he falls on his back, seemingly unable to maneuver back into a sitting position.
You take the opportunity to straddle him, sitting on his stomach, effectively pinning him to the bed. There’s no hiding the way his face heats up.
You trail wet, open mouth kisses down his neck. He lets out a soft gasp as you suck a dark mark into a particularly sensitive spot.
Once you deem his neck thoroughly marked up, you move on to his chest. By now he’s achingly hard, his cock begging to be touched. It's a real shame such a nice cock belongs to a human being like him. It’s a bit above average in length, not too thick, and pretty, like a pornstar’s. You eye it a bit longer than you should.
You roll a nipple in between your teeth, though not hard enough to hurt, eliciting a sharp inhale. Your fingers prod and pinch at the other one, working it into a stiff peak. This elicits a moan from him, one he tries to stifle by biting his tongue. Naoya doesn't want to allow you the satisfaction of knowing he liked it.
“Oh?” The pure, dark joy in your voice is palpable. “Is that sensitive?”
He nods weakly, followed by a sharp wine as you pinch at it harshly. An evil sounding giggle leaves you. The look of sheer, malicious glee in your eyes is alarming. You're genuinely enjoying yourself. Naoya brings out a sadistic streak not seen often in yourself.
You nip at his skin hard. A choked moan spills past his lips, followed by a soft “you bitch!”
You pull away from him, an audible pop echoing through the room as your lips release his skin. Hickeys litter his chest and neck- some he won't be able to cover with a shirt. If he has a problem with it, then he does little to protest.
Your hands drift lower, admiring the hard planes of muscle,
Naoya whines as you pull away. The absence of your touch leaves him aching, and needy for more.
You sit back on your knees, eyeing his half-naked form. Blush dusts every surface of his skin, from his perfectly kissable collarbone, to the tips of his ears.
As if you’ve suddenly changed your mind, you slide off the bed.
“What are you-” Though he can't see what you have in your hands, he doesn't have a good feeling about it. Something jingles. It sounds like keys. He cranes his neck to look. There’s the sound of something soft—like clothes—being dropped. A whole new wave of heat goes right to his cheeks.
He hates this. He hates that this is the first time he’s seen you naked. He hates how he can't tear his eyes away from your body.
The black lace panties you wear cling low to your hips, leaving little to the imagination. His gaze lingers on your form, admiring every soft curve of your body. This isn't quite how he thought things would go.
In your hands you carry something dark, and long, resembling rope.
“You better not-”
His breath catches in his throat as you slide the collar around his neck. It's tight. Not as tight as to cut off air, but tight enough he can never get used to the feeling of it. Still, you press two fingers under the leather, making sure you aren't choking him too hard.
"You're a real bitch, you know that," he says, as if he's suddenly come to his senses.
“If you hate this so much, then why is your dick twitching like a bitch in heat?” You ask.
His face burns.
“Fuck you,”
“Yeah, keep talking,” You say, “that’s all you’re good for.”
You straddle his waist, your knees on either side of his body.
“I should gag you,” you say, though it’s directed more at yourself, than it is at him. “Color?”
“Green.”
His gaze refuses to meet yours. You lean down to lick a stripe up his cheek. The feeling of your hot tongue is strange, and sends a shock straight up his spine. His skin feels feverish, and hypersensitive.
"Bark for me, bitch." You say.
It takes very little effort to flip him onto his stomach. He’s a lot lighter than he looks. You lift his hips just enough to shove a pillow under his stomach. There’s few things quite as humiliating as the position he’s stuck in now. His head presses down into the mattress, his ass up, his hardened cock leaking into the sheets. A rather indignant sounding whimper leaves him. Your hand comes down hard on his ass. The resounding slap echoes through the room. You smooth your hand over it to quell the sting. A hand-shaped red mark soon appears, marring his skin.
“How would the others react if they knew you were walking around with my handprint bruised into your ass?” You lean down to nip at his ear. He shudders.
He shudders as the cold lube flows over your fingers, down between his legs. You should have warmed it up against your skin a bit, but it's too late for that now. It doesn't bother you enough to give it a second thought.
“The hell are you-”
The sudden intrusion of your fingers makes him gasp. It takes you a moment of fumbling to figure out just how to work him up.
“It’s not my fault your g-spot is in your ass.” You say.
“Stop.” He says, although he really doesn't want you to stop. If he wanted you to stop, he’d make you.
"Then call me master,” you say, “maybe I’ll stop.”
“Fuck you-”
You give the leash a hard pull, lifting his head off the sheets. The angle cuts off quite a bit of his air. “Be a good boy, Naoya.”
That seems to shut him up, if only momentarily. His cock twitches at the name. Maybe he likes being called a good boy more than he wants to admit.
Your fingers card through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. The action is uncharacteristically soft.
The fingers of your other hand curl, hitting something sensitive. Naoya’s eyes screw shut. The feeling is foreign, but not outright unpleasant. A shock of pleasure travels right down his spine. A choked moan threatens to spill past his lips. That's quickly followed by your name, and a few choice curses. Goosebumps rise along his skin.
“Oh,” a soft gasp leaves you, “does that feel good? Are you going to be a good boy for me?”
He nods weakly, swallowing hard. His throat has gone dry.
The stretch of your second finger takes him a moment to get used to. Not wanting to push him too hard, you give him time to adjust. Your fingers pump in and out of him in steady movements. He finds himself growing closer and closer to his release. Once you deem him relaxed enough, you pull away.
An empty feeling overwhelms him as you remove your fingers. The action sends an aching pulse right to his cock, wrought with need. You sit back on your knees, half sprawled out across the other side of the bed. The light of the room reflects off your skin in such a beautiful way, accentuating every angle of your body.
You tug your panties down your hips. He averts his eyes momentarily. It feels wrong to stare, but at this point he has no shame. You notice how his gaze lingers on your form, and decide to give him a show. He hates how they stick to your cunt with your slick. He hates how wet you’re getting. The sick satisfaction you’re getting from this is genuine, and he doesn't know if he should fear, or admire you for it. You ball the fabric up in your hand.
You grip his chin, tilting his head so his gaze meets yours. The look in his eyes is hazy with lust. He tries to avert his eyes, maybe save himself some shame, but it doesn't work. The kiss you pull him into is uncharacteristically soft. Your gentle touch is in stark contrast to earlier.
He’s given in entirely. There’s no fight left in him.
You nip at his bottom lip until he allows your tongue to enter his mouth. Your scent, combined with the way you taste, makes him feel drunk. You’re slow, and skilled with your movements, leaving him aching for more.
A line of saliva connects your lips as you pull away. His pupils have shrunk down to pinpricks. His lips are bitten pink, and swollen. He’s rather cute when desperate like this. Not many people have the luxury of seeing Zenin Naoya in such a state.
Not many can leave him so strung-out.
To you, he’s all bark and no bite; a pretty bitch to lead around on a leash.
“Open wide.” There’s an evil glint to your eyes.
With two fingers you stuff your panties into his mouth, gagging him. He can taste it- he can taste you. The taste of your cunt sends a throb straight to his cock. A muffled sounding moan leaves him. You’re not sure his face could get more red.
“I never said not to make any noise.” You lean down to press a soft kiss to his jaw.
He’s not sure when you put it on. Time seems to no longer work as a constant. At this moment, only the two of you exist. You slip it over your legs, one by one, adjusting the straps so it fits snugly around your hips. The straps pinch into the soft flesh of your hips, leaving dimples that he can't seem to tear his eyes away from.
He stiffens at the sudden intrusion. The head of the strap presses into him, slowly at first. With a groan you sink completely into him. The dildo seems to curve in a way your fingers never did. Maybe it's because it's just bigger. His eyes shut tight, his face buries further into the sheets.
You give him a moment to adjust to your size. Your fingers card through his hair. Your nails are getting long, and feel nice against his scalp. Naoya relaxes a bit at your touch. He’s not sure how to ask you to keep doing it.
You roll your hips against his, mostly testing to see how well he takes you. With all the prep, the strap sinks right into him.
Your thrusts are achingly slow. He wants nothing more than to spit out his gag and beg you to go harder. Drool collects around the corners of his mouth, running down his chin. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes from the mix of pain and pleasure. Eyeliner runs down his face in streams. You lick a stripe up his cheek, the salty taste of tears mixing with the not-to pleasant taste of eyeliner.
Your free hand palms at his hardened cock. Broken moans leave him, hardly muffled by the gag. The sound of skin slapping on skin echoes through the room. You pick up your pace, slamming your hips against his in relentless thrusts. The familiar sensation of an orgasm creeps up on him far sooner than he wants.
The sensation of your teeth sinking into his shoulder is what sends him over the edge. He sports a crescent-shaped bruise in the junction of flesh where his neck meets his shoulder. When he cums, he cums hard. Hot ropes of his cum spill into your hand, flowing out between your fingers. Your name leaves his lips in a broken moan.
It's another moment before you pull out. You lean down to press a wet, open mouth kiss to his shoulder, right over the bite mark. Exhaustion sinks in. His limbs are sore, his joints ache. The ropes have rubbed his wrists and arms raw.
He hardly notices how the ropes loosen.
Naoya rolls onto his back, his chest heaving. Naoya works the stiffness out of his limbs. You move so you’re straddling his hips, your knees on either side of him. Your hands smoothe over the red indents left by the rope, kneading the soreness out of them.
Your expression can only be described as smug.
“What?” He asks. “I don't like the look on your face.”
“If you came and I didnt,” you say, “then that means I fucked the hell out of you.”
His eye twitches.
He pulls you to lay against him, your head resting against his chest. He smells faintly of sweat. The warmth of your skin spreads to his. Your fingers drag lazily against his skin.
“Ride my face,” he says.
You loop the leash around your fist, tugging hard.
“What’s that?” A smug grin splits your face.
“Please,” he swallows hard, “master.”
His hands plant on your hips, partially to guide you, partially to grope at your ass. He’s not had a proper chance to admire your body yet. Naoya lavishes your inner thighs with kisses, marking your skin up the same way you did his.
The taste of your cunt is almost enough to make him want another round. His tongue dips into your fold, swirling around your clit. You’re soaked, your slick dripping down your thighs, down his chin and neck.
A familiar heat builds in your stomach. It's one thing to just fuck him. You’re left wet, and with an aching need to be touched yourself.
It's not out of a want for your pleasure, as it is to prove something to himself. Still, he’s not terrible at it. His spite is what makes it half decent. It makes you wonder if he’s just as good with his cock as all the women say.
Tension builds in your stomach like a coil being wound tight. You grind down against his face, content to chase your own release. He eats pussy like a man starved for weeks, finally put in front of a plate of his favorite food. His need to make you feel good is primarily for selfish reasons, but you’ll take what you can get.
Your hands bury in his hair, tugging gently. With each skilled flick of his tongue he works you closer to orgasm.
The tension in your stomach snaps. His name leaves your lips in a broken moan, followed by much softer praise; calling him a good boy, saying he’s his master’s good boy. And he does little to fight the names. For just this one time he’ll relent. He’ll be your good boy.
He guides you to lay on top of him, your head resting against his chest. As the sleepy, syrupy post-orgasm haze sets in, you find yourself being pulled off to sleep. The soft rise and fall of his chest acts as a lullaby. In a minute, you’re going to have to get up. You two have been gone for a while. People are going to get suspicious. For now, you can relish in the moment.
For context: In that production of King Lear by the Royal Shakespeare Company, Sir Ian McKellen, playing the titular character in a scene where Lear has essentially gone round the bend, strips completely naked right there on stage. New York critic Michael Portantiere, noted in his review, “Special note for those who care about such things: In a brief nude scene, McKellen amply demonstrates the truth of Lear’s statement that he is ‘every inch a king’.”
The above scene is amazing but I also feel we need to take a moment to appreciate the fact that a respected theatre critic took time to mention in their review of this production of King Lear that Ian McKellen has a truly impressive penis
Synopsis: At a party you get roped up by your classmate Momo to conduct a summoning ritual for a demon she assigns you. Though unwilling, you still comply and do as instructed. Unfortunately for you, the ritual you hoped to debunk as pure nonsense unexpectedly worked out…
tags/warnings: Choso x reader ✅ blood kink ✅ (slight) blood/knife play ✅ (and for the more sensitive readers a tw.) a more or less detailed description of skin being cut open ✅ more erotic than nsfw ✅
A/N: I just needed an excuse to write for my main man Choso and thanks to @seijorhi and her Deal with the Devil collab I found the opportunity! Please enjoy and make sure to check everyone else’s wonderful works out as well!! (〃ω〃)
.wc 5.4k
━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆
Booming music, colorful and constantly changing LED lights, people who were either drunk or high, in some cases even both, surrounded you. Such a sight wasn’t unfamiliar to you since most university students celebrated their monthly parties in the same fashion. You weren’t a regular participant in these events, but tonight you just wanted to let loose and dance the stress, which had accumulated this past week, away.
After doing what you came for, you went up to the small bar, ordered a drink, and disappeared into the crowd to look for someone you were familiar with. And truly, you spotted two familiar faces in one of the gigantic room’s corners. The pair you were now walking towards consisted of Megumi and Momo. It was truly rare to see these two together let alone see them talking to each other while others surrounded them, but you figured that in such get-togethers nothing was impossible.
“Hi there you two, how are you doing?” you asked the moment you joined their small group.
Megumi greeted you with a small nod and a rather tortured expression that was most likely supposed to represent a call for help, but before you could find out more about that, Momo took a hold of both of your hands and squeezed them slightly as she said: “(Y/N), you’ve got a perfect timing as always! We were just discussing our summoning plan and we needed one more participant, so pleaseee could you do us the favor and join us?”
