Cosimo Galluzzi
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Misplaced Lens Cap
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ÛȘ â Öâthey say a kiss is the start of cannibalism, but with sukuna ryomen, it appears to be the opposite.
sfw, heian era! sukuna x fem! reader, somewhat detailing of gore (the taste of a human), established relationship (married), fluff, and technically sukuna comforting you, kissing/makeout
â â masterlist
ê© . IMPRINTS of four palms and twenty fingers besmirched the lustrous textile of your opulent robe when Sukuna deliberately smooched his grimy palms atop your clothed hips, observing you glance down inquisitively as the new colourant infused itself into each molecule of the garment, considered the epitome of poised dignity â expectant to spot musty debris from the sordid land he conquered during his frequent hunts, but taken aback by the muted carmine instead.Â
Your silken lashes fluttered as you peered at his personal stamp, bemused and startled not only by the premeditated decision to utilise your apparel as what youâd swiftly concluded was some sort of rag, sullying the fabric bestowed upon those of blest purity, but more so by the colour birthed when flesh had been carved.Â
âWife.â His stentorian greeting disrupted your trance as he had noticed your entranced demeanour shift.
In turn, you raised your head hastily and offered a strained nod, eliciting a jubilant chuckle from the man before you, ardent at witnessing your swift comprehension and the faint bob in your throat as you grasped why his expansive marks mirrored the pigment of a carrier transporting an inferior commonerâs vital nutrients rather than Mother Greenâs terrain; your dearly belovedâs cannibalistic conclusion was abruptly thrust onto your consciousness and your stilled figureâs adornment.
He tutted, his delicately carved nose skimming your cheek, roused by both the splash of rouge pricked beneath and the ruffled warmth, relishing your pupils, usually deluged with reserved intimacy, now enlarged once reminded of his barbaric practices, sown in every coursing cell that regulated his herculean physique and deified status.
âDoes this trouble you, wife?â he murmured with faux concern, evidently amused by your attentive stare fixed on the carnivorous evidence he proudly flaunted, his daring tongue peeping out to toy with the flaky crumb dependent on the quirked corner of his taupe lips.
Your satiny lips parted momentarily, a humble apology formulated, but the channel homing your voice refrained from vocalising your intent, irregular breathing fanning his visage; the lower half was graffitied with corrupt smears of scarlet, and unable to be sought over as his complexion peeked beneath the nanoscopic fractures from being stale, crippling with every obnoxious simper or facial expression. His gluttony was apparent, as he was no polite devourer, human remains smudged beyond the defined perimeters of his cracked lips.
âRyomenâŠâ you finally managed a hushed acknowledgement, bewitched by his repulsive enthusiasm for vile ravaging, subconsciously tilting your head away from a doting peck.
Sukuna cooly corrected you to address him with the sobriquet of âhusbandâ â his birth name of no importance once wedded to a woman who, despite being aware of his inhumane dietary choices, refrained from picking at the matter.
Then, he yanked his taunting smirk with a rough index finger hooked to one side, proudly unveiling the alternating hues staining the interior of his mouth; the variations nauseating, his gums richer in tone whilst the enamelâs naturally ivory base appeared cerise.
Although your dazed demeanour had brought rapture, predictably, his patience had worn thin. âI feasted on pomegranates; now you grant your husband a mere kiss.â
Of course, the last thing you were rendered to be was an idiot, mindful that a dismantled fruit, deconstructed to its initial stage of being no more than a bred womb, had not tainted his expressive mouth â but you obeyed, the persuasion and the futile attempt to glorify the substance enough to puppeteer your consciousness as his mouth slotted between your own eager lips, commanding you to feed from the source that offers you enrichment
Metallic leisurely gave way to saccharine intrigue, as the remnants of annihilation insisted on lodging in the closest molars of his intemperate mouth. Each subtle knock of his dental guards proposed that you embrace his radical ideals: a nourishment beyond the chambers of an individualâs organ, nonchalantly probed apart (and typically mentioned in a novelistâs draft regarding romance).Â
You hummed, a husky groan exchanged in return as the false narrative of pomegranate seeds you had envisioned for your sanity ruptured, slowly welcoming the dulcet sensation and the endearment of being a third party to a strangerâs mushy marrow. Â
His first set of hands cupped your flustered cheeks, while his lower limbs remained content to encircle your waist and shove your chest against the hard planes of his upper half; the gesture introducing natureâs spirit and pine, infused with his deconstructed robe, a hefty garment loose and sparing an expansive segment of his abdomen, unlike the skeletal frame unwillingly stripped of thick muscle; mundane protein for a lord but integral for a commoner to be considered human.
Sukunaâs explorative tongue appreciated your submissive cavern, his taste buds scorched by animalistic habit, eager to disperse the filling meal. Each languid swirl of his tongue serenaded yours, prompting you to rejoice in the unaffected admiration you had for a nefarious man such as himself; the progressive kiss was a reminder that he had no interest in a lover who rejected his true, cursed character
However, you? You latched onto his fiendish ways. Though at times stupefied, never dismayed by his brutish gestures and accepting the moral dichotomy between desire and consumption, aware that the differentiating factor lay in how much Sukunaâs bite would consume, already nibbling at your velvety lips, imbued with admiration, as either notion was capable of resulting in demise.Â
Dismembered limbs perished as a concern; the sickly gore now an adhesive that prolonged Sukunaâs domineering lips, as you reciprocated and coveted the abhorrent aftertaste, still vividly apparent and saturating his oral cavity.
For you had been awakened by the eroticism of scavenged leftovers your dutiful husband offered.
a/n sorry for the small break, please take one of my fav works as an apology
© seeingyoumourn no plagiarism, taking inspo or any of that other stuff! divider: @/chrisssiren
ÛȘ â Öâthey say a kiss is the start of cannibalism, but with sukuna ryomen, it appears to be the opposite.
sfw, heian era! sukuna x fem! reader, somewhat detailing of gore (the taste of a human), established relationship (married), fluff, and technically sukuna comforting you, kissing/makeout
â â masterlist
ê© . IMPRINTS of four palms and twenty fingers besmirched the lustrous textile of your opulent robe when Sukuna deliberately smooched his grimy palms atop your clothed hips, observing you glance down inquisitively as the new colourant infused itself into each molecule of the garment, considered the epitome of poised dignity â expectant to spot musty debris from the sordid land he conquered during his frequent hunts, but taken aback by the muted carmine instead.Â
Your silken lashes fluttered as you peered at his personal stamp, bemused and startled not only by the premeditated decision to utilise your apparel as what youâd swiftly concluded was some sort of rag, sullying the fabric bestowed upon those of blest purity, but more so by the colour birthed when flesh had been carved.Â
âWife.â His stentorian greeting disrupted your trance as he had noticed your entranced demeanour shift.
In turn, you raised your head hastily and offered a strained nod, eliciting a jubilant chuckle from the man before you, ardent at witnessing your swift comprehension and the faint bob in your throat as you grasped why his expansive marks mirrored the pigment of a carrier transporting an inferior commonerâs vital nutrients rather than Mother Greenâs terrain; your dearly belovedâs cannibalistic conclusion was abruptly thrust onto your consciousness and your stilled figureâs adornment.
He tutted, his delicately carved nose skimming your cheek, roused by both the splash of rouge pricked beneath and the ruffled warmth, relishing your pupils, usually deluged with reserved intimacy, now enlarged once reminded of his barbaric practices, sown in every coursing cell that regulated his herculean physique and deified status.
âDoes this trouble you, wife?â he murmured with faux concern, evidently amused by your attentive stare fixed on the carnivorous evidence he proudly flaunted, his daring tongue peeping out to toy with the flaky crumb dependent on the quirked corner of his taupe lips.
Your satiny lips parted momentarily, a humble apology formulated, but the channel homing your voice refrained from vocalising your intent, irregular breathing fanning his visage; the lower half was graffitied with corrupt smears of scarlet, and unable to be sought over as his complexion peeked beneath the nanoscopic fractures from being stale, crippling with every obnoxious simper or facial expression. His gluttony was apparent, as he was no polite devourer, human remains smudged beyond the defined perimeters of his cracked lips.
âRyomenâŠâ you finally managed a hushed acknowledgement, bewitched by his repulsive enthusiasm for vile ravaging, subconsciously tilting your head away from a doting peck.
Sukuna cooly corrected you to address him with the sobriquet of âhusbandâ â his birth name of no importance once wedded to a woman who, despite being aware of his inhumane dietary choices, refrained from picking at the matter.
Then, he yanked his taunting smirk with a rough index finger hooked to one side, proudly unveiling the alternating hues staining the interior of his mouth; the variations nauseating, his gums richer in tone whilst the enamelâs naturally ivory base appeared cerise.
Although your dazed demeanour had brought rapture, predictably, his patience had worn thin. âI feasted on pomegranates; now you grant your husband a mere kiss.â
Of course, the last thing you were rendered to be was an idiot, mindful that a dismantled fruit, deconstructed to its initial stage of being no more than a bred womb, had not tainted his expressive mouth â but you obeyed, the persuasion and the futile attempt to glorify the substance enough to puppeteer your consciousness as his mouth slotted between your own eager lips, commanding you to feed from the source that offers you enrichment
Metallic leisurely gave way to saccharine intrigue, as the remnants of annihilation insisted on lodging in the closest molars of his intemperate mouth. Each subtle knock of his dental guards proposed that you embrace his radical ideals: a nourishment beyond the chambers of an individualâs organ, nonchalantly probed apart (and typically mentioned in a novelistâs draft regarding romance).Â
You hummed, a husky groan exchanged in return as the false narrative of pomegranate seeds you had envisioned for your sanity ruptured, slowly welcoming the dulcet sensation and the endearment of being a third party to a strangerâs mushy marrow. Â
His first set of hands cupped your flustered cheeks, while his lower limbs remained content to encircle your waist and shove your chest against the hard planes of his upper half; the gesture introducing natureâs spirit and pine, infused with his deconstructed robe, a hefty garment loose and sparing an expansive segment of his abdomen, unlike the skeletal frame unwillingly stripped of thick muscle; mundane protein for a lord but integral for a commoner to be considered human.
Sukunaâs explorative tongue appreciated your submissive cavern, his taste buds scorched by animalistic habit, eager to disperse the filling meal. Each languid swirl of his tongue serenaded yours, prompting you to rejoice in the unaffected admiration you had for a nefarious man such as himself; the progressive kiss was a reminder that he had no interest in a lover who rejected his true, cursed character
However, you? You latched onto his fiendish ways. Though at times stupefied, never dismayed by his brutish gestures and accepting the moral dichotomy between desire and consumption, aware that the differentiating factor lay in how much Sukunaâs bite would consume, already nibbling at your velvety lips, imbued with admiration, as either notion was capable of resulting in demise.Â
Dismembered limbs perished as a concern; the sickly gore now an adhesive that prolonged Sukunaâs domineering lips, as you reciprocated and coveted the abhorrent aftertaste, still vividly apparent and saturating his oral cavity.
For you had been awakened by the eroticism of scavenged leftovers your dutiful husband offered.
a/n sorry for the small break, please take one of my fav works as an apology
© seeingyoumourn no plagiarism, taking inspo or any of that other stuff! divider: @/chrisssiren
ÛȘ â Öâthey say a kiss is the start of cannibalism, but with sukuna ryomen, it appears to be the opposite.
sfw, heian era! sukuna x fem! reader, somewhat detailing of gore (the taste of a human), established relationship (married), fluff, and technically sukuna comforting you, kissing/makeout
â â masterlist
ê© . IMPRINTS of four palms and twenty fingers besmirched the lustrous textile of your opulent robe when Sukuna deliberately smooched his grimy palms atop your clothed hips, observing you glance down inquisitively as the new colourant infused itself into each molecule of the garment, considered the epitome of poised dignity â expectant to spot musty debris from the sordid land he conquered during his frequent hunts, but taken aback by the muted carmine instead.Â
Your silken lashes fluttered as you peered at his personal stamp, bemused and startled not only by the premeditated decision to utilise your apparel as what youâd swiftly concluded was some sort of rag, sullying the fabric bestowed upon those of blest purity, but more so by the colour birthed when flesh had been carved.Â
âWife.â His stentorian greeting disrupted your trance as he had noticed your entranced demeanour shift.
In turn, you raised your head hastily and offered a strained nod, eliciting a jubilant chuckle from the man before you, ardent at witnessing your swift comprehension and the faint bob in your throat as you grasped why his expansive marks mirrored the pigment of a carrier transporting an inferior commonerâs vital nutrients rather than Mother Greenâs terrain; your dearly belovedâs cannibalistic conclusion was abruptly thrust onto your consciousness and your stilled figureâs adornment.
He tutted, his delicately carved nose skimming your cheek, roused by both the splash of rouge pricked beneath and the ruffled warmth, relishing your pupils, usually deluged with reserved intimacy, now enlarged once reminded of his barbaric practices, sown in every coursing cell that regulated his herculean physique and deified status.
âDoes this trouble you, wife?â he murmured with faux concern, evidently amused by your attentive stare fixed on the carnivorous evidence he proudly flaunted, his daring tongue peeping out to toy with the flaky crumb dependent on the quirked corner of his taupe lips.
Your satiny lips parted momentarily, a humble apology formulated, but the channel homing your voice refrained from vocalising your intent, irregular breathing fanning his visage; the lower half was graffitied with corrupt smears of scarlet, and unable to be sought over as his complexion peeked beneath the nanoscopic fractures from being stale, crippling with every obnoxious simper or facial expression. His gluttony was apparent, as he was no polite devourer, human remains smudged beyond the defined perimeters of his cracked lips.
âRyomenâŠâ you finally managed a hushed acknowledgement, bewitched by his repulsive enthusiasm for vile ravaging, subconsciously tilting your head away from a doting peck.
Sukuna cooly corrected you to address him with the sobriquet of âhusbandâ â his birth name of no importance once wedded to a woman who, despite being aware of his inhumane dietary choices, refrained from picking at the matter.
Then, he yanked his taunting smirk with a rough index finger hooked to one side, proudly unveiling the alternating hues staining the interior of his mouth; the variations nauseating, his gums richer in tone whilst the enamelâs naturally ivory base appeared cerise.
Although your dazed demeanour had brought rapture, predictably, his patience had worn thin. âI feasted on pomegranates; now you grant your husband a mere kiss.â
Of course, the last thing you were rendered to be was an idiot, mindful that a dismantled fruit, deconstructed to its initial stage of being no more than a bred womb, had not tainted his expressive mouth â but you obeyed, the persuasion and the futile attempt to glorify the substance enough to puppeteer your consciousness as his mouth slotted between your own eager lips, commanding you to feed from the source that offers you enrichment
Metallic leisurely gave way to saccharine intrigue, as the remnants of annihilation insisted on lodging in the closest molars of his intemperate mouth. Each subtle knock of his dental guards proposed that you embrace his radical ideals: a nourishment beyond the chambers of an individualâs organ, nonchalantly probed apart (and typically mentioned in a novelistâs draft regarding romance).Â
You hummed, a husky groan exchanged in return as the false narrative of pomegranate seeds you had envisioned for your sanity ruptured, slowly welcoming the dulcet sensation and the endearment of being a third party to a strangerâs mushy marrow. Â
His first set of hands cupped your flustered cheeks, while his lower limbs remained content to encircle your waist and shove your chest against the hard planes of his upper half; the gesture introducing natureâs spirit and pine, infused with his deconstructed robe, a hefty garment loose and sparing an expansive segment of his abdomen, unlike the skeletal frame unwillingly stripped of thick muscle; mundane protein for a lord but integral for a commoner to be considered human.
Sukunaâs explorative tongue appreciated your submissive cavern, his taste buds scorched by animalistic habit, eager to disperse the filling meal. Each languid swirl of his tongue serenaded yours, prompting you to rejoice in the unaffected admiration you had for a nefarious man such as himself; the progressive kiss was a reminder that he had no interest in a lover who rejected his true, cursed character
However, you? You latched onto his fiendish ways. Though at times stupefied, never dismayed by his brutish gestures and accepting the moral dichotomy between desire and consumption, aware that the differentiating factor lay in how much Sukunaâs bite would consume, already nibbling at your velvety lips, imbued with admiration, as either notion was capable of resulting in demise.Â
Dismembered limbs perished as a concern; the sickly gore now an adhesive that prolonged Sukunaâs domineering lips, as you reciprocated and coveted the abhorrent aftertaste, still vividly apparent and saturating his oral cavity.
For you had been awakened by the eroticism of scavenged leftovers your dutiful husband offered.
a/n sorry for the small break, please take one of my fav works as an apology
© seeingyoumourn no plagiarism, taking inspo or any of that other stuff! divider: @/chrisssiren
ÛȘ â Öâhey! give fushiguro toji a break, alright? it's hard to control himself when he comes back home to a sweet thing like you
sfw (suggestive), middle-aged toji fushiguro x (early 20's) fem! reader
â â masterlist
ê© . TOJI Fushiguro, despite widespread belief, adored when his (much younger) pretty lady adorned those babydoll lingerie sets. Or, more specifically, when you shamelessly welcomed him home with a honeyed greeting, your sensuous figure clad with that specific provocative attire on display after abruptly swinging the door open, preventing the opportunity for him to (intentionally) rattle his keys in the allocated slot with vigour, longing to be within the confines of the unpretentious but snug apartment.
And the hench male knew you never bothered to verify if it were him standing on the other side with the smart doorbell youâd pestered him into purchasing. Firstly, because he was aware you had memorised the sequence of his arrival, the particular jingle of his keys as he nonchalantly played catch with them, the hefty thumps of his Timberlands as he trod closer, and the melodic whistle reverberating within the isolated hallways. Secondly, it was to simply rile him up. Revealing yourself so brazenly as if your modesty werenât hanging by a thread, as if the possibility of neighbours occupying the cramped corridor of their complex and able to sneak a glimpse was non-existent.
âYou're jusâ opening the door like that for everyone, huh?â He enquired, opting to shut the door with a raised leg and firm kick from behind.
âPerhaps.â.
Toji's sharp eyes, coloured a collection of forest depths, narrowed with a light scoff whilst a sly smile paired itself with your scheming orbs.
You gracefully swivelled around and continued to saunter off, exhibiting the gracious flow of the sheer mesh stitched to the underwire, the base construction of your bra, skimming the bottom of your cheeks whilst the veiled thong taunted him, almost provoking him to lunge forward and aim a harsh smack to your bottom.
âOhhh no you donât~â he tutted, swiftly grasping your dainty fingertips before you could stray any further, which you demurred amidst a feathery giggle once he twirled you back around.
He strung your soft hand, which he had captured, to rest above his shoulder, dismissing your chastisement of his failure to remove his boots with a low âshut up'. Tender expressions flickered across both your visages.
His broad physique loomed over you, swaying back slightly so his attentive sight could wander over the matching set, studying the undergarments despite having seen them before â but he could not resist, enraptured by not only your domestic gesture but by the pink colourant complementing your satiny complexion.
After, his thumb grazed over the synthetic fabric moulding the cups which were embroidered with exaggerated hearts of tonal shades of blush and lilac, the bralette completed with golden hardware and cross detail trimmed straps with a miniature satin bow delicately sewn upon the centre gore and a heart-shaped lock pendant dangling beneath â the design replicated onto the panties that obtained a double-strapping detail to the waistband.
Having remained infatuated with assessing the minuscule efforts stitched with delicacy, he actively decided to disregard you, informing him that dinner awaited digestion.
Toji had internally perceived the sheer drape as an automated invitation for his calloused palms to slither beneath, marvelling at the feminine material and its pliable attribute, caressing his skin roughened by subservience to capitalism, which stirred his ungovernable libido further.
âForget âbout dinner,â he murmured once his scarred mouth dove for your neck, playfully nipping his brutal canines into the side, which you involuntarily tried to wriggle away from with a syrupy laugh and whine of his name.
"Don't run either," he added, hooking his thick index finger between the centre panel and your sternum to forcefully tug you closer once more, the distance between you both minimising even further as his charming features lifted from the haven of your neck to hover over your own beguiling traits.
âYouâre not hungry?â You stated with disbelief and raised brows. âThatâs a first, old man.â.
Your witty statement earned the waggle of his brows, and another deliberate tug on the small expanse his digit had remained curved over, suggestive smirk almost brushing against your plush lips âNever said nothinâ bout not being hungry. JustâŠnot for food.â.
Yet, Toji paused in coordination with his girlfriend when a faint gurgle disrupted the swell of their sexual tension, his rugged mouth parting slightly as your mellow chuckle fanned his briefly flustered expression.
With ease, he returned to his assertive demeanour when you patted his shoulder, disconnecting his touch from your frame by replacing it with the entwine of your own fingers, trailing him behind yourself and towards the kitchen.
âWell, it seems your body has betrayed you,â you paused, glancing over your shoulder with a reassuring smile, âBut hopefully youâre up for dessert after?â.
Toji allowed you to remain in the lead and guide him before roughly grabbing a handful of your ass and delivering an assured nod.
âNo doubt about it Babe.".
a/n i promise new stuff in the works, but my older work deserve love too okay đ
© seeingyoumourn no plagiarism, taking inspo or any of that other stuff! divider: @/chrisssiren
A HEAVEN FOR GRIEVANCE AKA THE MASTERLIST
[note! all of these works are angst unless stated otherwise e.g could also or solely include smut]
FUSHIGURO TOJI
á âá© á where leaving is only spoken
á âá© á sweet thing (suggestive, fluff)
GOJO SATORU
á âá© á mr gojo is the worst
á âá© á consume
GETO SUGURU
tba
NANAMI KENTO
á âá© á to be a sinner, or to be a false saint?
á âá© á tradition says (fluff)
SUKUNA RYOMEN
á âá© á betrayed by the bass (angst + smut)
ONE TIMERS
á âá© á megumi fushiguro and handmade gifts (fluff)
á âá© á hiromi higuruma was destined for parenthood, regardless of whether you remained by his side or not
á âá© á shiu kong is quite the meanie (smut)
ÛȘ â Öâhey! give fushiguro toji a break, alright? it's hard to control himself when he comes back home to a sweet thing like you
sfw (suggestive), middle-aged toji fushiguro x (early 20's) fem! reader
â â masterlist
ê© . TOJI Fushiguro, despite widespread belief, adored when his (much younger) pretty lady adorned those babydoll lingerie sets. Or, more specifically, when you shamelessly welcomed him home with a honeyed greeting, your sensuous figure clad with that specific provocative attire on display after abruptly swinging the door open, preventing the opportunity for him to (intentionally) rattle his keys in the allocated slot with vigour, longing to be within the confines of the unpretentious but snug apartment.
And the hench male knew you never bothered to verify if it were him standing on the other side with the smart doorbell youâd pestered him into purchasing. Firstly, because he was aware you had memorised the sequence of his arrival, the particular jingle of his keys as he nonchalantly played catch with them, the hefty thumps of his Timberlands as he trod closer, and the melodic whistle reverberating within the isolated hallways. Secondly, it was to simply rile him up. Revealing yourself so brazenly as if your modesty werenât hanging by a thread, as if the possibility of neighbours occupying the cramped corridor of their complex and able to sneak a glimpse was non-existent.
âYou're jusâ opening the door like that for everyone, huh?â He enquired, opting to shut the door with a raised leg and firm kick from behind.
âPerhaps.â.
Toji's sharp eyes, coloured a collection of forest depths, narrowed with a light scoff whilst a sly smile paired itself with your scheming orbs.
You gracefully swivelled around and continued to saunter off, exhibiting the gracious flow of the sheer mesh stitched to the underwire, the base construction of your bra, skimming the bottom of your cheeks whilst the veiled thong taunted him, almost provoking him to lunge forward and aim a harsh smack to your bottom.
âOhhh no you donât~â he tutted, swiftly grasping your dainty fingertips before you could stray any further, which you demurred amidst a feathery giggle once he twirled you back around.
He strung your soft hand, which he had captured, to rest above his shoulder, dismissing your chastisement of his failure to remove his boots with a low âshut up'. Tender expressions flickered across both your visages.
His broad physique loomed over you, swaying back slightly so his attentive sight could wander over the matching set, studying the undergarments despite having seen them before â but he could not resist, enraptured by not only your domestic gesture but by the pink colourant complementing your satiny complexion.
After, his thumb grazed over the synthetic fabric moulding the cups which were embroidered with exaggerated hearts of tonal shades of blush and lilac, the bralette completed with golden hardware and cross detail trimmed straps with a miniature satin bow delicately sewn upon the centre gore and a heart-shaped lock pendant dangling beneath â the design replicated onto the panties that obtained a double-strapping detail to the waistband.
Having remained infatuated with assessing the minuscule efforts stitched with delicacy, he actively decided to disregard you, informing him that dinner awaited digestion.
Toji had internally perceived the sheer drape as an automated invitation for his calloused palms to slither beneath, marvelling at the feminine material and its pliable attribute, caressing his skin roughened by subservience to capitalism, which stirred his ungovernable libido further.
âForget âbout dinner,â he murmured once his scarred mouth dove for your neck, playfully nipping his brutal canines into the side, which you involuntarily tried to wriggle away from with a syrupy laugh and whine of his name.
"Don't run either," he added, hooking his thick index finger between the centre panel and your sternum to forcefully tug you closer once more, the distance between you both minimising even further as his charming features lifted from the haven of your neck to hover over your own beguiling traits.
âYouâre not hungry?â You stated with disbelief and raised brows. âThatâs a first, old man.â.
Your witty statement earned the waggle of his brows, and another deliberate tug on the small expanse his digit had remained curved over, suggestive smirk almost brushing against your plush lips âNever said nothinâ bout not being hungry. JustâŠnot for food.â.
Yet, Toji paused in coordination with his girlfriend when a faint gurgle disrupted the swell of their sexual tension, his rugged mouth parting slightly as your mellow chuckle fanned his briefly flustered expression.
With ease, he returned to his assertive demeanour when you patted his shoulder, disconnecting his touch from your frame by replacing it with the entwine of your own fingers, trailing him behind yourself and towards the kitchen.
âWell, it seems your body has betrayed you,â you paused, glancing over your shoulder with a reassuring smile, âBut hopefully youâre up for dessert after?â.
Toji allowed you to remain in the lead and guide him before roughly grabbing a handful of your ass and delivering an assured nod.
âNo doubt about it Babe.".
a/n i promise new stuff in the works, but my older work deserve love too okay đ
© seeingyoumourn no plagiarism, taking inspo or any of that other stuff! divider: @/chrisssiren
ÛȘ â Öâhey! give fushiguro toji a break, alright? it's hard to control himself when he comes back home to a sweet thing like you
sfw (suggestive), middle-aged toji fushiguro x (early 20's) fem! reader
â â masterlist
ê© . TOJI Fushiguro, despite widespread belief, adored when his (much younger) pretty lady adorned those babydoll lingerie sets. Or, more specifically, when you shamelessly welcomed him home with a honeyed greeting, your sensuous figure clad with that specific provocative attire on display after abruptly swinging the door open, preventing the opportunity for him to (intentionally) rattle his keys in the allocated slot with vigour, longing to be within the confines of the unpretentious but snug apartment.
And the hench male knew you never bothered to verify if it were him standing on the other side with the smart doorbell youâd pestered him into purchasing. Firstly, because he was aware you had memorised the sequence of his arrival, the particular jingle of his keys as he nonchalantly played catch with them, the hefty thumps of his Timberlands as he trod closer, and the melodic whistle reverberating within the isolated hallways. Secondly, it was to simply rile him up. Revealing yourself so brazenly as if your modesty werenât hanging by a thread, as if the possibility of neighbours occupying the cramped corridor of their complex and able to sneak a glimpse was non-existent.
âYou're jusâ opening the door like that for everyone, huh?â He enquired, opting to shut the door with a raised leg and firm kick from behind.
âPerhaps.â.
Toji's sharp eyes, coloured a collection of forest depths, narrowed with a light scoff whilst a sly smile paired itself with your scheming orbs.
You gracefully swivelled around and continued to saunter off, exhibiting the gracious flow of the sheer mesh stitched to the underwire, the base construction of your bra, skimming the bottom of your cheeks whilst the veiled thong taunted him, almost provoking him to lunge forward and aim a harsh smack to your bottom.
âOhhh no you donât~â he tutted, swiftly grasping your dainty fingertips before you could stray any further, which you demurred amidst a feathery giggle once he twirled you back around.
He strung your soft hand, which he had captured, to rest above his shoulder, dismissing your chastisement of his failure to remove his boots with a low âshut up'. Tender expressions flickered across both your visages.
His broad physique loomed over you, swaying back slightly so his attentive sight could wander over the matching set, studying the undergarments despite having seen them before â but he could not resist, enraptured by not only your domestic gesture but by the pink colourant complementing your satiny complexion.
After, his thumb grazed over the synthetic fabric moulding the cups which were embroidered with exaggerated hearts of tonal shades of blush and lilac, the bralette completed with golden hardware and cross detail trimmed straps with a miniature satin bow delicately sewn upon the centre gore and a heart-shaped lock pendant dangling beneath â the design replicated onto the panties that obtained a double-strapping detail to the waistband.
Having remained infatuated with assessing the minuscule efforts stitched with delicacy, he actively decided to disregard you, informing him that dinner awaited digestion.
Toji had internally perceived the sheer drape as an automated invitation for his calloused palms to slither beneath, marvelling at the feminine material and its pliable attribute, caressing his skin roughened by subservience to capitalism, which stirred his ungovernable libido further.
âForget âbout dinner,â he murmured once his scarred mouth dove for your neck, playfully nipping his brutal canines into the side, which you involuntarily tried to wriggle away from with a syrupy laugh and whine of his name.
"Don't run either," he added, hooking his thick index finger between the centre panel and your sternum to forcefully tug you closer once more, the distance between you both minimising even further as his charming features lifted from the haven of your neck to hover over your own beguiling traits.
âYouâre not hungry?â You stated with disbelief and raised brows. âThatâs a first, old man.â.
Your witty statement earned the waggle of his brows, and another deliberate tug on the small expanse his digit had remained curved over, suggestive smirk almost brushing against your plush lips âNever said nothinâ bout not being hungry. JustâŠnot for food.â.
Yet, Toji paused in coordination with his girlfriend when a faint gurgle disrupted the swell of their sexual tension, his rugged mouth parting slightly as your mellow chuckle fanned his briefly flustered expression.
With ease, he returned to his assertive demeanour when you patted his shoulder, disconnecting his touch from your frame by replacing it with the entwine of your own fingers, trailing him behind yourself and towards the kitchen.
âWell, it seems your body has betrayed you,â you paused, glancing over your shoulder with a reassuring smile, âBut hopefully youâre up for dessert after?â.
Toji allowed you to remain in the lead and guide him before roughly grabbing a handful of your ass and delivering an assured nod.
âNo doubt about it Babe.".
a/n i promise new stuff in the works, but my older work deserve love too okay đ
© seeingyoumourn no plagiarism, taking inspo or any of that other stuff! divider: @/chrisssiren
ÛȘ â Öâhey! give fushiguro toji a break, alright? it's hard to control himself when he comes back home to a sweet thing like you
sfw (suggestive), middle-aged toji fushiguro x (early 20's) fem! reader
â â masterlist
ê© . TOJI Fushiguro, despite widespread belief, adored when his (much younger) pretty lady adorned those babydoll lingerie sets. Or, more specifically, when you shamelessly welcomed him home with a honeyed greeting, your sensuous figure clad with that specific provocative attire on display after abruptly swinging the door open, preventing the opportunity for him to (intentionally) rattle his keys in the allocated slot with vigour, longing to be within the confines of the unpretentious but snug apartment.
And the hench male knew you never bothered to verify if it were him standing on the other side with the smart doorbell youâd pestered him into purchasing. Firstly, because he was aware you had memorised the sequence of his arrival, the particular jingle of his keys as he nonchalantly played catch with them, the hefty thumps of his Timberlands as he trod closer, and the melodic whistle reverberating within the isolated hallways. Secondly, it was to simply rile him up. Revealing yourself so brazenly as if your modesty werenât hanging by a thread, as if the possibility of neighbours occupying the cramped corridor of their complex and able to sneak a glimpse was non-existent.
âYou're jusâ opening the door like that for everyone, huh?â He enquired, opting to shut the door with a raised leg and firm kick from behind.
âPerhaps.â.
Toji's sharp eyes, coloured a collection of forest depths, narrowed with a light scoff whilst a sly smile paired itself with your scheming orbs.
You gracefully swivelled around and continued to saunter off, exhibiting the gracious flow of the sheer mesh stitched to the underwire, the base construction of your bra, skimming the bottom of your cheeks whilst the veiled thong taunted him, almost provoking him to lunge forward and aim a harsh smack to your bottom.
âOhhh no you donât~â he tutted, swiftly grasping your dainty fingertips before you could stray any further, which you demurred amidst a feathery giggle once he twirled you back around.
He strung your soft hand, which he had captured, to rest above his shoulder, dismissing your chastisement of his failure to remove his boots with a low âshut up'. Tender expressions flickered across both your visages.
His broad physique loomed over you, swaying back slightly so his attentive sight could wander over the matching set, studying the undergarments despite having seen them before â but he could not resist, enraptured by not only your domestic gesture but by the pink colourant complementing your satiny complexion.
After, his thumb grazed over the synthetic fabric moulding the cups which were embroidered with exaggerated hearts of tonal shades of blush and lilac, the bralette completed with golden hardware and cross detail trimmed straps with a miniature satin bow delicately sewn upon the centre gore and a heart-shaped lock pendant dangling beneath â the design replicated onto the panties that obtained a double-strapping detail to the waistband.
Having remained infatuated with assessing the minuscule efforts stitched with delicacy, he actively decided to disregard you, informing him that dinner awaited digestion.
Toji had internally perceived the sheer drape as an automated invitation for his calloused palms to slither beneath, marvelling at the feminine material and its pliable attribute, caressing his skin roughened by subservience to capitalism, which stirred his ungovernable libido further.
âForget âbout dinner,â he murmured once his scarred mouth dove for your neck, playfully nipping his brutal canines into the side, which you involuntarily tried to wriggle away from with a syrupy laugh and whine of his name.
"Don't run either," he added, hooking his thick index finger between the centre panel and your sternum to forcefully tug you closer once more, the distance between you both minimising even further as his charming features lifted from the haven of your neck to hover over your own beguiling traits.
âYouâre not hungry?â You stated with disbelief and raised brows. âThatâs a first, old man.â.
Your witty statement earned the waggle of his brows, and another deliberate tug on the small expanse his digit had remained curved over, suggestive smirk almost brushing against your plush lips âNever said nothinâ bout not being hungry. JustâŠnot for food.â.
Yet, Toji paused in coordination with his girlfriend when a faint gurgle disrupted the swell of their sexual tension, his rugged mouth parting slightly as your mellow chuckle fanned his briefly flustered expression.
With ease, he returned to his assertive demeanour when you patted his shoulder, disconnecting his touch from your frame by replacing it with the entwine of your own fingers, trailing him behind yourself and towards the kitchen.
âWell, it seems your body has betrayed you,â you paused, glancing over your shoulder with a reassuring smile, âBut hopefully youâre up for dessert after?â.
Toji allowed you to remain in the lead and guide him before roughly grabbing a handful of your ass and delivering an assured nod.
âNo doubt about it Babe.".
a/n i promise new stuff in the works, but my older work deserve love too okay đ
© seeingyoumourn no plagiarism, taking inspo or any of that other stuff! divider: @/chrisssiren
ÛȘ â Öâhey! give fushiguro toji a break, alright? it's hard to control himself when he comes back home to a sweet thing like you
sfw (suggestive), middle-aged toji fushiguro x (early 20's) fem! reader
â â masterlist
ê© . TOJI Fushiguro, despite widespread belief, adored when his (much younger) pretty lady adorned those babydoll lingerie sets. Or, more specifically, when you shamelessly welcomed him home with a honeyed greeting, your sensuous figure clad with that specific provocative attire on display after abruptly swinging the door open, preventing the opportunity for him to (intentionally) rattle his keys in the allocated slot with vigour, longing to be within the confines of the unpretentious but snug apartment.
And the hench male knew you never bothered to verify if it were him standing on the other side with the smart doorbell youâd pestered him into purchasing. Firstly, because he was aware you had memorised the sequence of his arrival, the particular jingle of his keys as he nonchalantly played catch with them, the hefty thumps of his Timberlands as he trod closer, and the melodic whistle reverberating within the isolated hallways. Secondly, it was to simply rile him up. Revealing yourself so brazenly as if your modesty werenât hanging by a thread, as if the possibility of neighbours occupying the cramped corridor of their complex and able to sneak a glimpse was non-existent.
âYou're jusâ opening the door like that for everyone, huh?â He enquired, opting to shut the door with a raised leg and firm kick from behind.
âPerhaps.â.
Toji's sharp eyes, coloured a collection of forest depths, narrowed with a light scoff whilst a sly smile paired itself with your scheming orbs.
You gracefully swivelled around and continued to saunter off, exhibiting the gracious flow of the sheer mesh stitched to the underwire, the base construction of your bra, skimming the bottom of your cheeks whilst the veiled thong taunted him, almost provoking him to lunge forward and aim a harsh smack to your bottom.
âOhhh no you donât~â he tutted, swiftly grasping your dainty fingertips before you could stray any further, which you demurred amidst a feathery giggle once he twirled you back around.
He strung your soft hand, which he had captured, to rest above his shoulder, dismissing your chastisement of his failure to remove his boots with a low âshut up'. Tender expressions flickered across both your visages.
His broad physique loomed over you, swaying back slightly so his attentive sight could wander over the matching set, studying the undergarments despite having seen them before â but he could not resist, enraptured by not only your domestic gesture but by the pink colourant complementing your satiny complexion.
After, his thumb grazed over the synthetic fabric moulding the cups which were embroidered with exaggerated hearts of tonal shades of blush and lilac, the bralette completed with golden hardware and cross detail trimmed straps with a miniature satin bow delicately sewn upon the centre gore and a heart-shaped lock pendant dangling beneath â the design replicated onto the panties that obtained a double-strapping detail to the waistband.
Having remained infatuated with assessing the minuscule efforts stitched with delicacy, he actively decided to disregard you, informing him that dinner awaited digestion.
Toji had internally perceived the sheer drape as an automated invitation for his calloused palms to slither beneath, marvelling at the feminine material and its pliable attribute, caressing his skin roughened by subservience to capitalism, which stirred his ungovernable libido further.
âForget âbout dinner,â he murmured once his scarred mouth dove for your neck, playfully nipping his brutal canines into the side, which you involuntarily tried to wriggle away from with a syrupy laugh and whine of his name.
"Don't run either," he added, hooking his thick index finger between the centre panel and your sternum to forcefully tug you closer once more, the distance between you both minimising even further as his charming features lifted from the haven of your neck to hover over your own beguiling traits.
âYouâre not hungry?â You stated with disbelief and raised brows. âThatâs a first, old man.â.
Your witty statement earned the waggle of his brows, and another deliberate tug on the small expanse his digit had remained curved over, suggestive smirk almost brushing against your plush lips âNever said nothinâ bout not being hungry. JustâŠnot for food.â.
Yet, Toji paused in coordination with his girlfriend when a faint gurgle disrupted the swell of their sexual tension, his rugged mouth parting slightly as your mellow chuckle fanned his briefly flustered expression.
With ease, he returned to his assertive demeanour when you patted his shoulder, disconnecting his touch from your frame by replacing it with the entwine of your own fingers, trailing him behind yourself and towards the kitchen.
âWell, it seems your body has betrayed you,â you paused, glancing over your shoulder with a reassuring smile, âBut hopefully youâre up for dessert after?â.
Toji allowed you to remain in the lead and guide him before roughly grabbing a handful of your ass and delivering an assured nod.
âNo doubt about it Babe.".
a/n i promise new stuff in the works, but my older work deserve love too okay đ
© seeingyoumourn no plagiarism, taking inspo or any of that other stuff! divider: @/chrisssiren
ÛȘ â Öâso nanami kento couldn't wait to see his soon-to-be wife on their wedding day, sue him.
sfw, nanami x fem! reader
â â masterlist
ê© . NANAMI'S temporary silence humoured you.
âItâs bad luck to see me before the wedding.â You softly mused.
The man in question remained remorseless.
His soul, nestled in tradition, which would typically have reeled back in disbelief, succumbed to his unusual impatience and pardoned his decision to dishonour decade-old customs.
His heart was soon to be legally roped by an endless scripture inscribed with not only his consent to this union, but with cursive letters strung to formulate paragraphs brimmed with gratification for the day he was to settle another diamond atop your fourth finger, which was finally today.
As your palms manoeuvred south, soothing over the chapels of his exquisite suit of identical textiles, his organ restrained beneath the ensemble of his wedding attire, gently thrummed, reciprocal of your touch as your dainty hands rested a few centimetres above his pectorals
âIâm aware, Love,â he expressed lowly, hazel eyes strewn from a melodic harpâs chords, studying the orbs, still somewhat surprised he had wandered away from his station, which was to be at the end of the altar, awaiting your presence.
Nanamiâs own hand placement remained stitched to your hip, savouring the blanche lace tailored to snugly sculpt your heavenly silhouette and the stark contrast of the vintage-esque fabric enticing the calloused landscape of a working man.
Shame almost derided him, and the slight discomfort stirring in his lower half, as, in a couple of hours, he anticipated the gown's cloth balled within his grasp: the semblance of chaste caressing his thick digits (which had failed to remain as such) a divine vision.
The opulent fabric was a mere distraction by cloaking practice vows his ardent mouth had smooched against your body during your sexual rendezvous as boyfriend and girlfriend. Every amorous advancement was instead a bout of devotion he murmured against your soft flesh that permeated beneath your skeletal protection, garnering a shudder, a delicate moan, or both.
"Oh, Kento..." You tsked teasingly, rolling your eyes to disguise the warmth whenever he spurred flattery onto you - his romantic tendencies constantly heartening
As you subconsciously nabbed at the navy handkerchief peeking out his breast pocket, you chuckled to herself, visualising Nanami plucking the neatly folded material from its suffocating confines to dab dry the prick of a stream nourishing his waterline whilst witnessing your poised figure leisurely unite with his embrace, the bob of his Adamâs apple a hefty gulp of finality you was to be his under legal pretences, a long-awaited moment and insinuation no man beside himself could sincerely or even attempt to state you was theirs.Â
Alternatively, Nanami noted the minuscule embellishments of priceless pearls adorning your customised gown, and the semi-extensive width of fragile tulle delicately draped atop your head, paired to complete your wedding look.
He reached behind your head, stepping back once he had acquired the matrimonial headpiece. The bulky clock, settled behind you, which had scrutinised Nanami's pace and urged both of you to respect the allotted time slot for this venue and the guestsâ effort in reaching here on time, surprisingly paused.
The clockâs lanky arms softened, hesitating by a mere second to witness the intimate ceremony between the pair before strutting on to be observed by a swarm of onlookers.
Your vision became obscured by ivory netting, mascara-coated lashes tickling against the diaphanous veil that now vaguely concealed your beguiling portrait.
In return for Nanami's gesture, you lifted your gaze onto the man you would meet once more in a few minutes to officiate your companionship.
âForgive me, dear,â Nanami spoke, seeking remission, although his expression of adoration illustrated he didnât quite care whether his repentance was acknowledged.
âI just couldnât help myself.â.
© seeingyoumourn no plagiarism, taking inspo or any of that other stuff! divider: @/chrisssiren
ÛȘ â Öâthese frat parties werenât what people had hyped them up to be, but without them, there was no sukuna ryomen, regardless of his intentions towards you. However, the music alone made it really⊠really⊠hard to survive a lifestyle you never intended to participate in until it involved him.
18+, frat! sukuna x (fem) student! reader, fraternity/college AU, unrequited âcrushâ, hookup/non-established relationship, coloured text = mental angst/meltdown or warfare?, implication of other women, some use of technical music terms (not an expert!!)
â â masterlist
ê© . EXPRESSIVE symphonies were composed to be bridges between strangers, to artistically distort and orchestrate sound into a euphonious opus that would resonate with listeners and validate sentiments associated with a peculiar experience; manipulated frequencies embodied saviours, a balm to those needing an alternative to personified offers, aiding in healing.
However, you werenât entirely certain that the synthy, dynamic, and erratic tune thumping throughout the fraternity house and hammering at the outer boundaries of Sukunaâs bedroomâsubject to the futuristic barrage currently captivating the occupants outside, far too intoxicated to distinguish hallucination from realityâwould be a piece you personally identified with.
ÛȘ â Öâyou wished toji fushiguro would realise there was more to being a father than physical presence and basic provisions, whilst he wished you would realise there was no such thing as leaving him or his kids
sfw, dad! toji x stepmum! reader, reader, major angst, manipulation, guilt tripping, toxic toji, mentions megumi and tsumiki (and their respective mothers), established relationship
â â masterlist
ê© . WAFTS of familiar citrus overwhelmed your senses; the concentrated yet chemically fresh aroma lingered around your nostrils with each gentle heave of your breath. Slippery fingers once again grasped the curvaceous plastic vessel, its indentations moulded for an easier grip, as you studied yourself, lethargically dribbling the viscous gel over the scrunched scourer in hand.
Immersed in the slippery liquid, coloured an eccentric green that mirrored the scruffy, abrasive composition, it fused into bubbly foam when briefly agitated by the running water you nudged with a bony knuckle. The more water the sponge absorbed, the frothier the washing agent became, as minuscule bubbles overpopulated your hand, your other propping up the last dish to be scrubbed.
âThat shit ainât cheap, yaâknow?â
Huh?
ÛȘ â Öâof course gojo satoru wasn't a ghoul, but you were, and cosplaying as a human could only last so long
sfw, gojo x ghoul! reader (Tokyo Ghoul inspired/chase atlantic 'consume'), descriptions of gore, angst/no comfort
â â masterlist
ê© . SATORU was no oblivious citizen regarding the other species living amongst the human race, specifically, ghouls.
Carmine tainted your canines, metallic infiltrating your eager taste buds that clung to the few remains of his pancreas before finally allowing the bumpy delicacy to traipse down your throat. Your tongue was saturated with a mix of both saliva and blood, the appendage tarnished by the unfortunate indulgence of a cannibalistic diet.
âIâm sorryâŠâ You whispered, sitting prettily beside an extremely slouched Satoru who weakly shook his head, managing, albeit sluggishly, to shove a cascading strand behind your reddened ear with a faint yet endearing grin before warily glancing down at his punctured abdomen - his pristine shirt cautiously torn and circling the gaping gash, now an entrance to the contents of her diabolical feast.
âYou tried for me, and thatâs more than enough.â He sputtered, azure irises once brimmed with exuberance now dampened by the loss of blood, the shadow of his limp arctic strands, and a smidgen of injustice regarding their last moments together.
Essential body parts of his were either devoured or waiting to be. Satoru could almost imagine cavities budding within your mouth, the more of his body you digested; despairingly gnawing on the flesh remnants of your lover, as you finally caved into hungerâs beckon; your patience rewarded with the offer of his organs, which was a stake he insisted she claimed.
He witnessed the faint lick of your lips, stygian pupils deluged with a metabolism revived and urging you to dine more once granted permission by him to âcommit the deedâ.
You wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand; gore smudged outside the perimeters of your pouty lips, which trembled; your appetite coming to be replenished, but loving him the opposite.
Satoru tiredly smiled despite the grimy brick wall of an abandoned alley and its gritty surface repugnantly stroking his undercut before his head began to loll forwards - but not before a shaky thumb warmly swept against the rouge smothered across the lower half of your visage â the view confirming the stigma around those lacklustre of remorse and restraint; all stereotypes around your kind you so direly attempted to refrain from falling into.
Your vision twinged with a moist blur, noting his consciousness decrease, which you yearned to prolong however sufficed by cradling his limp hand against your cheek defaced with your boyfriendâs remains.
Itâs not right, Itâs not fair.
© seeingyoumourn no plagiarism, taking inspo or any of that other stuff! divider: @/chrisssiren
Öâ ÛȘ â Ö raising children had always been the final key to completing your and your husband, higuruma hiromi's, family plans. But once that was endangered, so was the promise âtill death do us partâ.
sfw, higuruma x reader, angst/no comfort
â â masterlist
ê© . THROUGHOUT your childhood, timidity and the repression of vocalising your perspective were the absolute antonyms to your nature, duelling with both introversion and Japanâs expectation of ladies to bloom with traditional reticence â much to your motherâs dismay, who always commented you would be a great lawyer.
At the time, such words, insinuating a career pledged to fulfil justice, inflated your pride, unaware that the sequence of verbal kindness youâd embraced internally implied the contrary; her acknowledgement disguised her reproach for your incompetence in blindly agreeing with herÂ
Overall, it served as a critique of your capacity to challenge her viewpoint; nevertheless, the memory of her insincere commendation remained, a recollection you stowed in your mind, regimented with theories and schemes â solely because your only reply was that she had yet to encounter your husband and that you finally agreed on something regarding lawyers.
âI just donât think itâs right to bring children into a world like this.â
An anchor of guilt rendered your stance immobile, uncertain of your privilege to reach for the man you had knowingly disheartened and stupefied by ultimately thwarting the final stage of domestic completion.
âI know thatâs what we envisioned for our future,â you subconsciously cradled the slight pouch of your clothed stomach, currently vacant of an evolving foetus, but intended to one day nurture the infants he envisioned would waddle idly across the hallways, cling obstinately to his leg before he bade them well for work, and, most importantly, be the synthesis of both him and the only woman he adored.Â
Consequently, Higuruma expressed his disapproval of your bodyâs distance and of the small space he designated as barren; your hesitant disclosure severed a fissure in sacred vows that had previously sanctified the notion that marital union equated to a single entity.Â
Despite the series of gestures revealing his inner turmoil, as the pinch of his hooked and prominent nose bridge had not gone unnoticed, accompanied by his exasperated sigh and taut knots squatting between his joints.
Higurumaâs extensive palms remain calloused from the intricate verses of social progression. Within palmistry, the linear, nanoscopic, and winding etches imbue all ratio-decidendi permanently saturated beneath the flesh, and responsible for integrating binding authority in the present day.
His rugged fingers, incised with scabbed crimson, sought solace upon your loosely crossed arms, softly circled his thumb atop the smooth exterior, and then drew you nearer with a gentle tug on your elbows. Â
A subtle sigh pried his taupe mouth apart. âSweetheart, you and I both know the world will always spin on its axis through both corruption and triumph, and when my children grace it, itâll be me protecting them amidst it all.â
Indeed, when did the obligation to fulfil a civic duty become conditional upon the absence of procreation in a world renowned for constant misunderstandings â as if an awareness of the world's imperfections had not existed from the get go?Â
The temptation to ask him whether you were wrong in this matter refused to materialise, your resolve practically adamant in the refuge of your parched throat, especially as his answer, curated and perfect in reassurance, offered you no such benefit, and your airy scoff belittled his response as he added, âyouâve always wanted children, weâve always wanted children.â
Higuruma Hiromi was both a lawyer and a devoted husband; if questioned which role took precedence, it would be revealed that it depended solely on whether victory was essential in the matter.Â
Your imposing pout endured, accompanied by a dismayed shake of your head. âYou canât protect them from everything, Hiromi," you lamented, the surge of realisation presenting a considerable challenge to convey to your husband. âI wish you could, but curses exist, as do vile humans, and our children arenât a case. Safety and children have never truly co-existed on this planet.â You whispered solemnly.
His avoidance of a response cast doubt on your capacity to anticipate his verdict, as hope chastised the persistent hum resonating within your stagnant figureâs interior.
âSo,â you inevitably swallowed, âyou can call me selfish all you want..." Your speech, usually mellow and complementary with the measured stentorian of Higurumaâs own, wobbled.
The mental supplication he comprehended your opposing view as selfless, and the genuine expression of maternal love and protection persisted, as the ongoing silence and absence of words from your partner heightened your anxiety.Â
The momentary period, which one in your position might have perceived as an eternity, was brought to an end with his low murmur. Your dishevelled head was nestled beneath his stubbled chin, while his fingers loosely wove between yours, not committed to completely entwining.
Meanwhile, his courageous thumb caressing the carats that embellished your fourth digit (and certified your wedded status) unexpectedly began wiggling your band off - much to your bemusement.
âYouâre right,â
With Higuruma Hiromi, relief was brief, you realised.
âYou are selfish.â.
a/n yayy finally wrote something new rather than transferring my works
© seeingyoumourn no plagiarism, taking inspo or any of that other stuff! divider: @/chrisssiren
ÛȘ â Öâso nanami kento couldn't wait to see his soon-to-be wife on their wedding day, sue him.
sfw, nanami x fem! reader
â â masterlist
ê© . NANAMI'S temporary silence humoured you.
âItâs bad luck to see me before the wedding.â You softly mused.
The man in question remained remorseless.
His soul, nestled in tradition, which would typically have reeled back in disbelief, succumbed to his unusual impatience and pardoned his decision to dishonour decade-old customs.
His heart was soon to be legally roped by an endless scripture inscribed with not only his consent to this union, but with cursive letters strung to formulate paragraphs brimmed with gratification for the day he was to settle another diamond atop your fourth finger, which was finally today.
As your palms manoeuvred south, soothing over the chapels of his exquisite suit of identical textiles, his organ restrained beneath the ensemble of his wedding attire, gently thrummed, reciprocal of your touch as your dainty hands rested a few centimetres above his pectorals
âIâm aware, Love,â he expressed lowly, hazel eyes strewn from a melodic harpâs chords, studying the orbs, still somewhat surprised he had wandered away from his station, which was to be at the end of the altar, awaiting your presence.
Nanamiâs own hand placement remained stitched to your hip, savouring the blanche lace tailored to snugly sculpt your heavenly silhouette and the stark contrast of the vintage-esque fabric enticing the calloused landscape of a working man.
Shame almost derided him, and the slight discomfort stirring in his lower half, as, in a couple of hours, he anticipated the gown's cloth balled within his grasp: the semblance of chaste caressing his thick digits (which had failed to remain as such) a divine vision.
The opulent fabric was a mere distraction by cloaking practice vows his ardent mouth had smooched against your body during your sexual rendezvous as boyfriend and girlfriend. Every amorous advancement was instead a bout of devotion he murmured against your soft flesh that permeated beneath your skeletal protection, garnering a shudder, a delicate moan, or both.
"Oh, Kento..." You tsked teasingly, rolling your eyes to disguise the warmth whenever he spurred flattery onto you - his romantic tendencies constantly heartening
As you subconsciously nabbed at the navy handkerchief peeking out his breast pocket, you chuckled to herself, visualising Nanami plucking the neatly folded material from its suffocating confines to dab dry the prick of a stream nourishing his waterline whilst witnessing your poised figure leisurely unite with his embrace, the bob of his Adamâs apple a hefty gulp of finality you was to be his under legal pretences, a long-awaited moment and insinuation no man beside himself could sincerely or even attempt to state you was theirs.Â
Alternatively, Nanami noted the minuscule embellishments of priceless pearls adorning your customised gown, and the semi-extensive width of fragile tulle delicately draped atop your head, paired to complete your wedding look.
He reached behind your head, stepping back once he had acquired the matrimonial headpiece. The bulky clock, settled behind you, which had scrutinised Nanami's pace and urged both of you to respect the allotted time slot for this venue and the guestsâ effort in reaching here on time, surprisingly paused.
The clockâs lanky arms softened, hesitating by a mere second to witness the intimate ceremony between the pair before strutting on to be observed by a swarm of onlookers.
Your vision became obscured by ivory netting, mascara-coated lashes tickling against the diaphanous veil that now vaguely concealed your beguiling portrait.
In return for Nanami's gesture, you lifted your gaze onto the man you would meet once more in a few minutes to officiate your companionship.
âForgive me, dear,â Nanami spoke, seeking remission, although his expression of adoration illustrated he didnât quite care whether his repentance was acknowledged.
âI just couldnât help myself.â.
© seeingyoumourn no plagiarism, taking inspo or any of that other stuff! divider: @/chrisssiren
ÛȘ â Öâso nanami kento couldn't wait to see his soon-to-be wife on their wedding day, sue him.
sfw, nanami x fem! reader
â â masterlist
ê© . NANAMI'S temporary silence humoured you.
âItâs bad luck to see me before the wedding.â You softly mused.
The man in question remained remorseless.
His soul, nestled in tradition, which would typically have reeled back in disbelief, succumbed to his unusual impatience and pardoned his decision to dishonour decade-old customs.
His heart was soon to be legally roped by an endless scripture inscribed with not only his consent to this union, but with cursive letters strung to formulate paragraphs brimmed with gratification for the day he was to settle another diamond atop your fourth finger, which was finally today.
As your palms manoeuvred south, soothing over the chapels of his exquisite suit of identical textiles, his organ restrained beneath the ensemble of his wedding attire, gently thrummed, reciprocal of your touch as your dainty hands rested a few centimetres above his pectorals
âIâm aware, Love,â he expressed lowly, hazel eyes strewn from a melodic harpâs chords, studying the orbs, still somewhat surprised he had wandered away from his station, which was to be at the end of the altar, awaiting your presence.
Nanamiâs own hand placement remained stitched to your hip, savouring the blanche lace tailored to snugly sculpt your heavenly silhouette and the stark contrast of the vintage-esque fabric enticing the calloused landscape of a working man.
Shame almost derided him, and the slight discomfort stirring in his lower half, as, in a couple of hours, he anticipated the gown's cloth balled within his grasp: the semblance of chaste caressing his thick digits (which had failed to remain as such) a divine vision.
The opulent fabric was a mere distraction by cloaking practice vows his ardent mouth had smooched against your body during your sexual rendezvous as boyfriend and girlfriend. Every amorous advancement was instead a bout of devotion he murmured against your soft flesh that permeated beneath your skeletal protection, garnering a shudder, a delicate moan, or both.
"Oh, Kento..." You tsked teasingly, rolling your eyes to disguise the warmth whenever he spurred flattery onto you - his romantic tendencies constantly heartening
As you subconsciously nabbed at the navy handkerchief peeking out his breast pocket, you chuckled to herself, visualising Nanami plucking the neatly folded material from its suffocating confines to dab dry the prick of a stream nourishing his waterline whilst witnessing your poised figure leisurely unite with his embrace, the bob of his Adamâs apple a hefty gulp of finality you was to be his under legal pretences, a long-awaited moment and insinuation no man beside himself could sincerely or even attempt to state you was theirs.Â
Alternatively, Nanami noted the minuscule embellishments of priceless pearls adorning your customised gown, and the semi-extensive width of fragile tulle delicately draped atop your head, paired to complete your wedding look.
He reached behind your head, stepping back once he had acquired the matrimonial headpiece. The bulky clock, settled behind you, which had scrutinised Nanami's pace and urged both of you to respect the allotted time slot for this venue and the guestsâ effort in reaching here on time, surprisingly paused.
The clockâs lanky arms softened, hesitating by a mere second to witness the intimate ceremony between the pair before strutting on to be observed by a swarm of onlookers.
Your vision became obscured by ivory netting, mascara-coated lashes tickling against the diaphanous veil that now vaguely concealed your beguiling portrait.
In return for Nanami's gesture, you lifted your gaze onto the man you would meet once more in a few minutes to officiate your companionship.
âForgive me, dear,â Nanami spoke, seeking remission, although his expression of adoration illustrated he didnât quite care whether his repentance was acknowledged.
âI just couldnât help myself.â.
© seeingyoumourn no plagiarism, taking inspo or any of that other stuff! divider: @/chrisssiren