˖ ࣪૮₍ TALK JUJUTSU BETWEEN MY LEGS 𓂃 ⭒ jjk characters x f reader
⤿ ꒰ what's it like when they use their jujutsu in the bedroom? :: smut :: size diff :: cervix fucking :: penetrative sex :: fingering :: oral :: overstim :: tentacles :: temperature play :: orgy :: cockwarming ꒱
ᘛᰍ𝅄 ׁ satoru who watches your belly bulge like his life depends on it.
little do you know that feral blue glow is actually six eyes. memorising every twitch of your gummy walls, how they sperate, how they strain around his girth and milk on every vein. especially how his wet tip smooches your cervix again and again. most important? he knows exactly when you're gonna cum, so he makes sure to start pounding harder and abuse your clit a lil with a small limitless vortex.
ᘛᰍ𝅄 ׁ of course suguru has some tentacle curse tucked away in his arsenal.
and of course he uses it on you at every chance he can possibly get. loves seeing you wrapped up and helpless. two thick tentacles holding your thighs open, another two restraining your arms, another pair cupping your tits with thinner extensions playing with your nipples. what he loves the most? the tentacle pumping in and out of your mouth and the one pounding into you below. his favourite has to be the one that's obsessed with your clit, though.
ᘛᰍ𝅄 ׁ shoko and her reverse curse technique means she can keep you going for houursss.
aww, you're tired? overstimmed? can't take her wet cunt gliding on yours any longer? don't worry! she gives you a quick charge up only to break you down again with three more orgasms. all so she can cup your face and croon while your clits smooch and grind together. at least she's not being mean and stealing your orgasms away with her technique huh? don't tempt her though.
ᘛᰍ𝅄 ׁ mhhm. yes. hand mouth and finger combo with sukuna.
two thick fingers pumping away at your cunt while the tongue on his palm makes your clit weep and throb. the real kicker though is when the pads of his fingers start heating up as he curls them into that spot that sends your back arching. to top it all off he'll have that greedy, swirling tongue heat up too. so not only are you getting dual stimmed but also: some fiery temperature play.
ᘛᰍ𝅄 ׁ fucking a blood manipulator could mean many things. choso
uses his sneaky little technique to rush your blood to your cunt and clit more than naturally. making you aroused quicker, longer and by proxy far more sensitive. perfect for his eager tongue or his worshipping fingers as he fucks you again and again. all while you're crying because it doesn't matter what he does, you're just soooo needy you feel like you're in heat.
ᘛᰍ𝅄 ׁ 7:3? deadly ratio when nanami's ball's deep and holding your head down into the pillow.
it should be illegal how precisely and how hard he's fucking into that one, little weak spot that has your eyes rolling back and mouth hung dumb. he finds it with ease each and every time. poor you, your boyfriend doesn't have to do much to find your sweet spot, or abuse it with more than just the powerful rocks of his hips clapping against your ass.
ᘛᰍ𝅄 ׁ now it may be cruel, but the best way to tame a brat in enari's humble opinion?
increase their gravity of course. especially when you're cockwarming him while he's busy and you're being so insistent. all it takes is a few tweaks and you're heavy, hot and whining. cunt throbbing around his thick cock with an almost unbearable weight on your hips. unable to do anything but feel every inch, every throb, and know you can't even bounce on it.
ᘛᰍ𝅄 ׁ why have one lisse when you could have multiple?
she's always so eager to your indulgence so of course she splits herself once or twice just to see your eyes all stupid and your mouth drooling. one duplicate between your thighs and tonguing on your clit eagerly. another sat behind you so that she can play with your tits and kiss your neck. all while the third nudges the first a bit so that she can shove to fingers into your cunt and finger you until you're whining.
enari desperately believed in miracles and searched for the little ones in everything. so when he found you at a club his cousin dragged him out to? he knew he'd laid eyes on an angel. only for you to disappear and leave him desperate. but fate had a funny way of spinning.
⌗ wc : 5.2k
ᝰ.☆ cw : smut :: afab!reader :: strip clubs :: desperate sex :: porn with plot :: downbad enari :: tension :: alleyway sex :: handjob :: fingering :: p in v :: rough sex :: biting :: switch!enari :: switch!reader :: satoru cameo ( he's like 20 & dumb )
ᝰ.☆ sweetheart : this was commissioned by my sunshine @augennn , thank you baby!
Enari was not a religious man, but he had learnt that miracles do not manifest.
At least, not in his life.
Living each day of his life and still expecting a blessing, even if small, might be considered foolish.
And Enari was always a beautiful fool.
It's the only way to live, he'd chastise his cousins as he prepared food that servants should have been tending to.
Look for the little blessings in life every day. He'd urge.
There's a little something in everything. You never know when you might just be looking at one.
Where was the blessing in this, though?
Maybe a lesson in boredom. Perhaps patience. The flashing lights and colour spirals he could barely see wafted over his pale eyes. His leaned with his head perched on his palm.
Enari sat poised. Even in a place like this. Where sweetness sparkled sin and carnal desire carried the rhythm.
Loud, humid and brimming with carnistic choreography. By both performers and onlookers.
The strip club wasn't exactly his scene. Whenever his gaze traced down curves or glued to glittering clothing— it was to admire. Question, what kind of skin mask do they invest it? Would this colour suit me? What gorgeous hair— I wonder what's her routine.
Enari knew desire. He was no saint. Nor did he want to be. Which was exactly why he knew the feeling tugging at his chest was hardly lust. More like laudation.
"See anyone you like?" The nudge to his side swept his stare over to the only reason he was here. A head of unruly white hair and excitable blue eyes that couldn't even hold stares with him for two section before flitting off to the stage again.
Enari smiled. Both tired and fond. He's not exactly sure why Satoru decided to drag him along to a place like this for 'bonding'. But he wouldn't refuse him. Not after recent events. He must be lonely.
"Not particularly." He replied, honest.
Not a single person, man nor woman, had clung to his sight and nestled in his mind.
Satoru groaned. Shoved his drink into his cousin's face and shot him a spoilt frown over the rim.
"Drink then! Maybe you need t'be a bit buzzed."
Enari arched his brow. Amusement settled in his smile as a long, delicate finger slowly pushed the glass away from him. "One, I don't drink. Two. One of us has to be sober."
"I'm sober."
"Clearly."
Out of habit, Enari raked his hand into those white tuffs. Setting the strands as he would back when Satoru was bright eyed and bushy-tailed, strutting out the door to Jujutsu Tech. He pinched the glasses rim and pushed it into Satoru's hair.
"You're inside and it's dark. You don't need those."
Satoru responded with a huff. He jerked his head so that the shades fell over his face again. Enari resisted an eye roll.
"Suit yourself."
"The show's starting, pay attention."
As if he wasn't the reason that Enari looked over in the first place. He bit back a smile and shook his head.
Hesitantly, his eyes drew to the stage. Shoulders tense. They hadn't quite relaxed. It'd been a long day. If elders weren't barking orders in his ear from the right, his brother was making him burst a blood vessel from the left.
"You gotta learn to relax, man." Satoru groaned, flopping back into his seat.
"Hmm?" Enari spared him a glance.
"You look like a washboard."
Enari's brow twitched at the appearance jab. His fingers curled into the arm of his chair.
"I'll let that slide since you're tipsy but if you ever compare me to anything other than—"
The words died on his tongue.
Anything other than what? Beautiful?
Beauty manifested on the stage. In gold and curls and a smile that put the heavens to shame.
His grip loosened on the chair. Went slack.
At the centre of dancing bodies and an erotic haze, was you. Sunshine, champagne, and everything that glittered in between. You strutted the stage like you owned it— no, like it adored you.
Dazzled, and dreamy, and sinking something that felt a lot like desire into Enari's fluttering heart. His eyes dilated.
"Oho? Looks like someone's a lil' distracted." Satoru sung beside him, but Enari barely batted an eye. Convinced that if he blinked, you'd disappear. An illusion in the light. A fantasy flittering right before his eyes.
The world to him was colourless. A confusing mix of hues and off-shades. But now? He couldn't care less about the colour spectrum. Paint it all in the shade of you, for all he cared. He'd die a happy man.
Had he so carelessly forgotten his own phrase? Look for the little miracles in everything?
But oh, you looked like more than just a miracle. As your smile shone the show. As your body commanded attention and adoration. Your hands were divine as they caressed the pole. Hips dragging him down to hell. Eyes promising heaven.
Miracle? No. Enari's certain that he just met an angel. Locked eyes with one.
You smiled. His chest ached.
Your eyes swayed with his. Caressing him. Inviting him. Alluring. Angel or siren? Divinity or devil? Either way, he was willing to drown.
You weren't just looking at him anymore. You were staring. Daring. He found himself sitting a little straighter. Breathing a little softer. As if a single imperfection could shatter this moment.
And as the rhythm eased. As the lights faded. Your stare remained on his. As if you wished to cling to his eyes. Crawl onto his lashes. Slip inside and caress his mind.
He cleared his throat. One second your eyes were on his. The next—
Gone.
It took him a second of blinking. Of purposefully ignoring Satoru's prattles beside him and sucking in a breath.
What the hell? No— what the heaven?
His body moved on its own. As the show ended and bodies scattered across the room. Through the colourless world, he searched. Tethered to those last glitters of divinity that still trembled his fingers.
But he couldn't find you.
Touched his soul and then vanished into thin air. Perhaps you truly were an angel.
Enari fell asleep to the thought of you. Awoke to the fantasy of you flittering in his eyes. It's to be expected, he told himself. Because how does anyone forget a blessing like you?
But as the days droned on, and he drowned in the memory of you, he questioned himself. He hadn't even spoken to you, and yet your voice stroked his mind. Your eyes called for him.
He wrote you into parchment. Caressed your memory into ink and carried the image of you into poetry. It was only supposed to be a few lines, he told himself. But when the stanzas grew and the lines extended, he made another the next day. Then another the day after that.
Was he wrong about you? Were you not an angel, but a ghost with how you haunted his mind?
Either way, what bliss. Brutal, beautiful bliss.
He's almost reluctant to let the thought of you go. But as the weeks dragged on, he understood that he'd been touched by an angel and left with nothing but the gold on his heart.
Enari clung to the little miracle. Tucked away in his heart as the world around him returned to its same old tune. Badgering elders. Prejudiced higher-ups. Vexating siblings. The universe sure knew how to drain the colour from his world.
Pale hands rubbed a soothing cream between his palms and over the knuckles as he stepped through Tokyo's winter night. Shoulders more frozen than the roads. Maybe Satoru's right. He does need to learn to relax.
For someone with serenity on his lashes and grace in his smile, he chased peace through a war of his own mind.
Well, that's why he's here now, right? At one of his favourite restaurants. Exactly what he needed after a long day. A warm bowl of shio ramen and a quiet corner all to himself. Guess he could consider that his miracle for the day. If the gods would allow it.
But as he stepped into the grand, but cosy establishment. Smiled at the familiar waiters. Greeted the hostess and raked his eyes across the room. His breath hitched again.
The gold on his fingers glittered to his heart.
Seemed the gods were on his side after all.
He should have counted his luck before he left home. Because sitting there, in his usual seat, was none other than the ghost who'd been whispering to his mind. Clinging and caressing and claiming it without him so much as having heard their voice—
You.
Even in the night, a halo shone over your head.
Enari quelled his excitement. Reminded himself that he was an observer first. A few moments were all he needed to understand that you were alone. A half-finished drink in your hand. Phone in the other. Those glowing eyes now dull as they dragged to the top of the screen then dropped down quickly. Probably checking the time.
You were alone, yes. But it seemed those weren't your initial plans.
His heart ached. Mind reeled. Because— who in the world came face to face with an angel and turned them down?
Unlucky soul. Lucky him.
"Expecting someone?"
Enari appeared at the opposite end of the booth. Hand on the backrest. He's never been the timid type when it came to this. And he'd be damned to waste any more time when the gods granted him mercy.
You looked up. He valued eye contact. But that golden stare almost wavered him. Especially as it dragged down his figure. Drank in his grey slacks and black turtleneck. Then traced back up. As if you were appreciating every inch.
You smiled.
"Think he might have just come along."
His stiffened.
As his heart knocked against his chest and that familiar tug settled deep, he returned the smile. Eyes sharpening into soft crystals. "May I?"
He asked, and was relieved when your hand motioned. "Please."
Slipping into the seat across from you, Enari brushed his long white strands over his shoulders. His smile remained. Mirrored yours.
The kind of spark that surged across the table wasn't the kind that had a start. It didn't build, didn't blister or bloom— it simply was.
Innate. Electric. Manifested.
"Male problems?" He dared to ask.
"That obvious?"
He exchanged a chuckle for your grin. Light like the air that floated in his chest and dazed his mind into a dream.
"Suppose I know it when I see it. Experience is a cruel teacher."
You tilted your head. Grin softened into a smile. And there your eyes went— tracing him. Caressing him. All over again. "Now who'd be crazy enough to let a pretty thing like you slip between their fingers?"
He mimicked the curve of your head. While your smile taunted, his teased. "Oh? You think I'm pretty?"
He knew that he was. But from your lips? It felt like a divine conviction.
He continued. "Although, I could ask the same about you, angel." The name sounded right on his tongue. It glimmered in your eyes.
You curled fingers around your glass, probably glittering residuals of your gold. Blessing everything you touched in a heavenly shimmer. As you sipped your drink, you peered at him from over the rim.
"The guy from the club, right?" You hummed. "With the other guy who was wearing shades indoors for some reason."
Enari almost flinched. Your giggle soothed the burn of his embarrassment as he remembered Satoru's antics. A snicker still slipped from him. "Mhhm." His eyes drooped. His voice dropped.
"But I'm almost disappointed that you noticed him at all."
"My, do you enjoy attention?"
"Only from pretty things."
The spark in your stares smouldered to coals. The electric buzz between your bodies surged. Calling. Warning. Taunting. Enari was a passive man. But now? Danger never tasted so good.
Clink. A warm bowl placed in front of him breaks the stare, but not the tension. Through wafts of the ramen's steam— Enari observed your halo. Reaching for him. Curling around his throat. Capturing his heart. He couldn't care less about the food before him.
His smile turned thin. Yours grew tender.
"Y'know, I haven't seen you around there before," you mused, twirling your straw.
"It's not really my scene," he replied, honest. "But I suppose that fate had other plans."
"So you believe in fate?"
"How else would an angel be seated before me right now?"
His heart fluttered as your laugh blessed his ears. His smile softened into something dazed.
"Ooo, what a poetic tongue."
Your ankle brushed his.
The daze melted into a dream. Of gold, and glitter, and a shimmer of greed. You leaned your head into your palm. Pressed closer.
"I wonder if it's as poetic under pressure. . ."
"I'm a man who lives by example, angel." He crooned, mirroring your head and palm. He leaned in. An inch. A dare. Perhaps a promise.
"But what are you really asking me?"
The silence didn't settle. It simmered. Low. And intense. And beckoning. A lock of stares and pull of hearts. Your breath thinned. Enari's caught.
His eyes searched yours. Drowning in them. Yearning. Then he mused. Tender and teasing.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
"Just thinking about how out of all the people in there, your eyes were glued to me."
"There were other people?"
He mused. Hushed.
You hitched. Mesmerised.
He watched as your eyes searched is. But he laid as an open book before you. Inviting to to read him. To look between the lines of his poet heart and lyrical soul.
You asked.
"So, why'd you come over here now?"
And he smiled.
"Guess."
But when your hand slipped to his thigh beneath the table. When your fingers touched, and teased. All of that serenity and peace that Enari prided himself on shattered in an instant.
He's always been a reverent man. So understand that there was worship in his fingertips as he snatched you around the booth and drew himself closer. Understand that there was only praise on his lips and reverence on his tongue as he crashed his mouth into yours.
You're on him the second you both wedged into the corner. Hands dragging from his thighs to his waist. Gripping in the way he gripped the back of your hair. Suffocating. Steering— or at least attempting to.
But you fought back. Hot and greedy. Your tongue took no submission but demanded it. Pressed into his mouth and tangled with his.
A sound left him. Quiet. Wrecked. You didn't stop there. Fingers riding under the hem of his turtleneck while his hands chased the back of your thighs. Bundled. Squeezed.
It was hell when you pulled away. He chased your lips like they were heaven. Smothering them in heated, almost frantic smooches.
Eyes dazed. Dreamy.
"Does that answer your question?" He rasped into you.
"I prefer physical demonstration." You gasped back.
Your hands shot to his belt. Yanking him by the loops out of the booth. Abandoning your orders and throwing a handful of cash to the table. He haphazardly mirrored you.
He couldn't help himself. While your hands yanked on his belt loops, his dragged your face. Pulling you into another kiss. Heavy and heady as his tall frame stumbled you back.
You reached for his jaw. Squeezing amidst the heated kisses and jerked your head back.
"Down boy," you laughed, breathy.
So he nipped your jaw in response. But hummed an agreement.
The rest was a blur. A shuffle of feet and hands. The aim was to get home. Yours? His? He wasn't sure. Not that it mattered as his mouth kept sealing on yours. As your touch kept driving him insane.
You didn't make it to either place.
They alleyway would be your home for the night.
Desperate yet delicate, Enari pressed you up against the cold wall. Winter be damned. His mouth was a flame on yours. All consuming. Ever burning. He kissed you like he was trying to crawl into your heart and tuck away in it.
An addiction, that's what you were. His new, pretty angel addiction sent down to ruin his mind and own his soul.
Your hips rutted up into his. Catching on the bulge that throbbed hard and hot against your thigh. Your giggle was poison that he gulped down like honey.
"Is the pretty boy a slut like me?" You crooned, hands slipping up his biceps.
His slipped down. Tethered to your waist with trembling knuckles as he ground back into your ruts. Returning the desire. Spiralling that carnal flame. "Thought it was obvious," his rasp came in kisses down your jaw.
The air knocked out of him as your fingers curled on his shoulders. One second he was all over you— the next? Quivering into the wall as you slammed his lithe body up against the bricks and apologised with messy kisses down his neck.
Enari's throat bobbed with a whine. The trembles grew in his fingers, but still, he grappled. Clinging to your waist like it was his only salvation while your touch smeared sin all over him.
He returned the favour. Icy, delicate hands slipping beneath your shirt's hem. He traced up. Found your soft mounds in his hands. Squeezed and flicked an eager thumb over your clothed-nipple.
Oh, he adored how Limitless let him feel. Everything, and anything. Sensitive to your skin. To your mouth. To that way your palm cupped his bulge and you squeezed in time with him.
Your moans melted into one another. Needy. Enari threaded his hand into your hair again. Dragging you back to his gasping mouth. Clinging to the only sanity he had left.
"Kiss me."
He pleaded.
"Greedy."
You chided.
But gave it to him anyway. As if you were brought to him to grant every wish and blessing. He moaned into your mouth, "your fault," as he rutted his hips into your working hand. Searching for friction. For fervour.
His heart fluttered as you pulled him from his trousers. Hand so expertly wrapped around his already hard, already throbbing cock. You palmed on him. Jerking around the middle only to shimmy to his pulsing, slick tip and squeeze. Squeeze until he whimpered into your mouth and dampened his lashes.
"Been awhile?" You breathed.
"You make it feel that way." He baited.
He searched for comfort in your neck. Face burying into your softness. Nose inspiring on your scent. Open-mouthed kisses praised your throat. Sucking your flesh between his lips and savouring the glitter. As his hands joined the worship.
They pulled your breasts from your bra. Large palms squeezing at them with every wet shlick shlick shlick your hand dealt to his twitching dick. A shaky knee pressed between your thighs. Ground you on the joint until your moans merged with his.
He was rewarded with your teeth. Through the fabric. Buried into his shoulder.
His head flicked back onto the wall. He moaned to the moon. Lewd and loud and still so graceful as he worked your body like you did his.
Enari was experienced. Terribly so. But every flick of your wrist was making him feel like a virgin. That skilled thumb of yours rubbed on his veins. Then flicked to his tip and swirled his dripping pre. Stroked on the slit until he throbbed and gasped.
"Mngh," he groaned, pinching on your nipple and sucking below your jaw. His hips bucked in a clumsy chase of pleasure. Spine curling. Tingling.
Were you spreading your shimmer all over his cock too? It felt heavenly.
As his thigh ground messily between yours, his white lashes fluttered. Pale eyes flickering back as the coil in his stomach burst into flitters of blissful gold.
Embarrassing.
He came embarrassingly quickly. Painting your hand in white and shivering as you dragged along the entirety of his length.
You laughed again. Breathy. Maddening. Lips peppering his as you squeezed around him. "Oho, so he's quick with it."
"Only for angels." He huffed.
His hand didn't waste a second. Slipped into your pants. Disregarded your panties. Flushed his cold palm up into your cunt and ground into it with his own expertise. He felt your clit twitch into his hand. Throbbing and hard as he rutted against it. Spurred on by your moans and that dazed look in your eye.
"So wet," he murmured, hushed and hot against your ear. "Because of this? Or the restaurant?"
Your hips rocked into his palm. Soft thighs squeezed around his wrist as your lips drew to his neck. Tracing pants and kisses— only to sink in again when his fingers lathered up your slick and slipped inside.
Finally under your raw teeth, Enari grew dizzy at your bite. Fingers moving on their own. Slow drags and pumps. Dripping your wetness all over his knuckles and swirling his tips on several little nerves.
"Don't treat me like an angel," you begged as you released his neck. Tongue laving over teeth marks. He shuddered.
"Then show me you're a devil."
His fingers listened. Like a siren call. They drowned in your sweet pussy and rapidly pumped. Pistoning, curling, fucking into you with a desperate vigour. Desperate to hear your sweet sounds. See those pretty eyes flit back. Perhaps shatter your halo.
His head ducked. Mouth ever as greedy to worship you. Kisses trailed around your lower neck. He coiled your hair around his free hand again. Tugging your head back so that your throat arched. It was your turn to moan to the moon.
Oh, but you weren't ready to leave him alone just yet. Your fingers delved under his turtleneck. Tracing over the indent of his abs and scratching pretty red lines into his pale skin.
Your thumb pinched on his nipple. His fingers curled into your sweetspot.
Another joined moan melted into one another. Loud, almost proud. Enari's need spurred into his hand that yanked you back to his mouth. While his wrist below twisted. Fingers hithering into that one spot that spasmed you around his knuckles.
Your teeth, ever avid, bit into his lip this time. And he whimpered again. Low and whined into your mouth. They tumbled his fingers fucking into you at a rabid pace. Squelching your sweet cunt all over the alleyway. Committing your pleasure to his memory and repeated the gestures until your shook against him.
He felt the flutter. Heard the whine. Your hips clumsily rocked into his before abruptly stiffening. And that's when he felt it—
Wet, hot, staining his knuckles and trickling down his wrist. His digits buried deep. Humping on your sweetspot to ride out your high with quick taps of his palm on your clit.
You mewled, and something within him broke.
Enari was always a graceful man. But right now he was greedy.
He yanked his fingers from you. Shoving them to his mouth. Sucking on your slick and groaning as if he'd been parched all his life and you just granted him holy water.
Your fingers reached up. Circled his throat and clamped. His whimper vibrated on your palm.
"Dirty boy." You crooned to him. Expression dazed and eyes fluttering as you leaned into his face.
He withdrew from his hand with a ragged pant. Eyes still drowning in yours. "Only for angels like you." He corrected. Groaned.
His hands were hasty. Or perhaps it was his soul bleeding into them. He tethered to your waist again. Spinning you around and shoving you up into the wall again. His hips meshed with yours. Bucking. Desperate. Your wet crotches and clothes stuck to one another. Smothered and dragged with your shared grinding.
You were hastier. Hooking into your waistband and shoving your pants down to pool around your ankles. Enari watched with pale eyes dilated and mouth near-drooling as you curled your panties and hoisted them to the side. Inviting. Pleading.
Yet demanding, with the hand that clutched the back of his neck and hauled him in. Mouth to mouth all over again. Pouring carnal need and divine want into each other's tangled tongues.
He shared your pants. You mimicked his whines. Hips chasing one another as the patience dripped between your soaked clothes.
"Hurry." You gasped.
"Fuck." He rasped.
His tip flushed to your wetness at the plea. Swiping through the slick and collecting it on his pre-cum. He bit back another whine. Throat bobbing and eyes heavy. A large hand came down. Splayed on your pelvis so he could thumb on your twitching clit.
You were more than just an angel. You were divine. With your hips craned into his. Your hands on him. Eyes calling for his. Voice singing for him— oh, he's not sure if anything could ever be exalted above you.
Still, he asked. Quivered.
"You sure?"
And you grabbed his shoulders. Locked his stare.
"Just shut up and fuck me."
That's all he needed to hear. His body moved on instinct. As if his soul was searching for yours. His tip breached past the first ring of resistance. Hips bucking once, twice— then plunged. Burying to the hilt. Deep and snug in your spasming cunt.
He was gasping. Like a sinner finally finding salvation. Like a saint being dragged down to hell.
You were rasping all the same. A whine rumbling from the back of your throat as your hands clambered for his shoulders. Back arching off the wall. You needed to be close to him. Flushed up against him as his balls thrummed on your folds and your hips swirled on his.
Your thighs fell into his palms. Like they belonged there. Like they'd stay there. He bundled the fat and hoisted you up. Dragging your body up the wall and hooking your legs round his waist.
His hips couldn't stop. Bucking and rutting on their own accord. As if this was his destiny. His purpose. To be here— buried so deep and strangled on your sweet pussy.
It wasn't even thrusts. Just pitiful, clumsy bumps and grinds. You humped back. Your bodies falling into a desperate rhythm of suffocating on one another. Slick building between your thighs and staining each other further. Dripping. Drowning.
Enari's harsh pants fanned your neck. His chest ragged hard. Eyes fluttering as you squeezed just right around his base. His mouth quivered against your pulse.
"Fuck fuck fuckk."
"Mngh— not very poetic of you."
He adored your giggles but he had to shut you up. If you tittered one more time like that in his ear, he's not sure how long he'd last.
So his hips jerked forward. Cock pressing into your sweetspots and roughly rubbing with his first actual thrust. Your voice broke into a moan. He could feel how you ached around him.
He established a rhythm. Tempered and impatient as his thrusts chased the pleasure turning his mind to muck. He withdrew from your neck to show you your handiwork. Of how you shatterered his grace and chewed on his elegance.
His face was blotched. Eyes glossy and lashes fluttering. Once neat strands of hair now scattered over those flitting eyes. His jaw slack and pants fanning your face as his forehead limped against yours.
"This pussy's poetry enough," he groaned from the depths of his throat. Smooth voice dropping to his natural, deep pitch as his hips jammed into yours. Jerking and rabid and oh so frenzied. He fucked into you like a man searching for answers and kissed you like he discovered your lips held them all.
Your hands drove into his silky hair. Why not dishevel it more? Fingers coiled in the white strands. Scratching on his scalp as you tugged hard. Your moans broke into the heated winter's air.
You dragged his head back. Mouth just as eager as it poured down his neck. Devouring his skin. Taunting his pronounced veins. Your teeth grazed his pulse and your kisses caressed his flesh. Lips sucking hickies all over the pale canvas that was all for you in this moment. Utterly yours.
His hips jolted. Pelvis knocked into yours. Cock smudged up into a spot that sent your eyes looping back and your nails wrenching tighter on his hair. You gasped. Throaty and tender.
"There—"
"Here?"
He chased after it. Cock pummeling into that devastating bundle of nerves until sparks burst under both of your eyes. Your legs tossed around his waist. Hooked tight and flushed him hard up against you. Driving him impossibly deeper.
He choked a whine. Thrusts helplessly stuttering. But it was nothing compared to how he stumbled when your hand trapped his throat against. Squeezed your thumb over his pulse and clenched on his bobbing Adam's apple.
"I can't—" he broke. Panting, pleading. His thrusts were furious. Wild and clumsy. "I can't— fuck, I won't last if you keep— mngh, doing that. I can't."
"Then don't."
Oh, you absolute devil.
He could be devilish too.
Enari jerked. Snatching your knees. Throwing them over his shoulders. So that you crooked. Smushed against the wall and his body. He hunched over you. Shoving you further and fucking you like a man gone mad. Big hands gripping the backs of your thighs as your mewls and whimpers dizzied his ears.
His thumb flicked to your clit. Pressing down hard on the nub and haphazardly circling it. "Want you to cum with me," he pleaded.
"You don't even know me." You mused.
His jaw set tight. Face falling flushed into your throat as he panted on your pulse.
"I'm deep inside this sweet pussy enough to know that my soul does."
He whined into your throat that bobbed with breathy laughter. Only to be cut off to join his whining as his cock abruptly shoved all the way. Stuffing you full and humping shallowly. Feverishly on your sweet spot.
"Cumming—" you choked.
"Yes, yes, yes yes yes," he croaked.
Your mouths crashed once more. Like stars colliding. Intertwining. Galaxies birthed in the tangling of your tongues and the voracious humping of your hips.
The heat burst like a blister. Flaming and flaring. A fervid fury of gnashing hips and knocking teeth as the high hit you both. Your walls clenched tight. Squeezing. Flooding him— as he pounded up. Flushed into your velvet. Smothered in it. Squirting. Your orgasms clashed into one another as your bodies collapsed. Ruined. Wrecked.
Mouths still sealed. Hips still grinding. Spilling. Drooling. Until all that was left were hazy pants and trembled whimpers.
When you withdrew from the mess, Enari was whining. You were hiccuping. His hands clung to your thighs and yours fixed to his hair.
You tugged for good measure. His neck arched like it was yours.
As your lips traced down his quivering throat, he groaned.
"Maybe you really are the devil." But turned and kissed your temple like you were anything but. An angel in his arms.
You laughed. He was drunk on the sound.
"Is this the part where I ask for your number?" You smiled, dazed.
"Unless you're planning on disappearing again and making me think I'm delusional?" He sighed, dreamily.
You shared a laugh and one last kiss. Enari savoured your mouth. Your touch. Your sweet, angelic body.
He committed in to memory. Immortalised it in his ink and paper.
˖ ࣪૮₍ 𝓜.𝐄𝐑𝐂 𝓖.𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 & 𝓖.𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈 𓂃 ⭒ as crime lords who catch you in between them :: mercenary syndicate au :: journalist!reader :: reader gets a gun to her head
"this is the target? unlucky."
"pretty thing, isn't she?"
you snap between two heads of white hair. a few feet each away from you. one behind, one upfront. the one in your vision wears a grin like jewellery, coupled with a pair of round shades. tousled hair and bright blues peer at you above the circular frame.
the other's hair was longer. eyes whiter. his lips hang with a smile. his gaze shines with a promise, a threat — are they not one in the same?
to you, sweet little you caught like a deer in headlights, the latter seems apparent. "what is this?" you muster. any attempt to back up will knock you straight into the seemingly taller of the two.
"great going enari. scared her already." theatrically, the shade-adorned man purses his lips for a second. then his grin returns, sharper. he takes a step forward. you instinctively take one back.
warmth braces you. the aforementioned enari was closer than you anticipated. long, silk strands tickle your shoulder. his lips find your ear. his arm hooks your waist. "aww, did I now?" the ground glues your feet. you don't dare squirm. not when cold metal kisses your temple. seems it was a threat after all. a pistol is quite threatening, no?
"dunno, satoru. she seems far more concerned with you."
the newly named satoru steps closer. with nowhere to run, you remain frozen in the warm hold. perhaps the heat can melt you into the floor and give you some room for escape. alas, you're solidified by a second.
another wave of ice casts itself on your jaw this time. calloused yet gentle, long fingers wrap firmly. your gaze is forced to those endless voids of blue. starry. were they such a second ago?
"oh don't look so shocked, sweetheart." he croons deeply. "you've been givin' me an awful amount of trouble lately. guess even pretty things can give me a run for my money."
"I wouldn't exactly call it a difficult feat."
"you got something to say, nari?"
"who's the one with the gun, toru?"
the men exchange a glance. the clash echoes through a moment of silence, before satoru grunts and engulfs your entire jaw in his large hand. your head's shoved back further into the awaiting gun's muzzle. "we don't have time for this. so how 'bout you start yapping sweetheart? tell me how you've been taking out my men like flies. you with those shithead liáng's?"
you yelp and press your lips together in fear. muscles taut and eyes wide as you behold that frightful glare staring right back of you. still, his grin remains. wider. everyone says hell is fiery. you can surely tell anyone that it's cold. icy, like his eyes.
comfort comes with warmth again. a thumb strokes your cheekbone and enari's voice croons again. "poor girl, it's okay, oh - it's okay. ease up won't you? so tense . . ." perhaps if the pistol hadn't gone right back to your temple, you might have relaxed.
"see what I said? you're scaring our poor darling."
"not my fault she looks so cute scared."
this time it's an exchange of chuckles. at last you muster the courage to attempt a squirm, but enari's arm round your waist tightens simultaneously with satoru's hand on your jaw. still, you exclaim. "I-I don't know what you're talking about! I'm just a journalist!"
their smiles freeze. their silence feels far more unsettling than the repetitive back-and-forth. until enari's chin meets the top of your head. you needn't see his glare to feel it directed to the other.
"told you we got the wrong fucking one."
"well she's a journalist! that's worse ain't it?"
"idiot."
"who's related to this idiot?"
you try to squirm again. once more their grip tightens, but their banter doesn't quote cease. if your heart wasn't ringing through your ears, you might have heard them argue like a pair of brothers over the dinner table.
"well what the hell do we do with her now?"
"I don't know. keep her?"
another freeze. two pairs of eyes stare holes into all four corners of your head. you gulp once their words register. keep you? before you can so much as protest, enari sighs dramatically.
"suppose." he mutters, lips back to your ear. "after all, it would be such a waste of a pretty face, huh?"
"gives us time to check if she's actually clear." satoru's thumb traces your lower lip. his head tilts as he flashes you a wink. "whaddya say, sweets?" he jerks your head back with deep chuckle.
"not that it matters. welcome to the gojo syndicate."
˖ ࣪꒰ FASHION DESIGNER ENARI ꒱ ˙˖ has been entranced by you the second he saw you don his magnum opus like the silk was your soulmate. ever since, all of the models in his sketches were you. whether anyone realised it or not.
˖ ࣪꒰ FASHION DESIGNER ENARI ꒱ ˙˖ could only thank the heavens the more you started working together, thanks to your ties to a brand. you were beautiful. no— stunning. young, graceful, so full of life. you'd sparked a new inspiration within him.
˖ ࣪꒰ FASHION DESIGNER ENARI ꒱ ˙˖ found himself mortified when he witnessed you going down a dark path. most supermodels your age did. eager to keep up with the lifestyle, the trends, the glamour and the glory. he needed to keep you afloat, keep that life that you instilled in him burning. even when life begins weighing you down and the stress of fame dims your smile— he'll be there to make sure you take care of yourself.
˖ ࣪꒰ FASHION DESIGNER ENARI ꒱ ˙˖ keeps an eye out for you in all the ways you'd least expect it. you're now his mona lisa, and he'd rather not stain you in the greed of this world. idolatry? maybe. but what is an artist without their muse?
satoru gojo was a man that chewed you up and spat you out. but what happens when you have a second set of blessed eyes on you?
his older cousin, 𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈, always seemed to be the best shoulder to cry on. you weren't certain how ethical it was. crying to someone that your ex considered an older brother. but you didn't care.
his hands were always so tender. his voice so calming. when he held the back of your neck and whispered to your ear— for a moment, a frighful moment, you felt loved.
“I shouldn't even be here right now,” you hiccuped and chased your tears with your sleeves. he instead wiped them with a gentle thumb, as if they were precious crystals.
“what if satoru comes back and sees me here?” you murmured. what a scandal it would be. the head of the gojo clan returns to his estate to see his once lover crying into the arms of his cousin. . .
enari doesn't flinch. he only lifted your chin with a touch softer than any affection you'd received betore. “then, he'll deal with me.”
smooth and steady with another kiss to your temple. maybe that's why you started coming around more often. the servants assumed it was to try your luck with the clanhead— completely unbeknownst that you found something more tender. maybe not a lover— but a friend.
you spent hours texting him back and fourth. he brought you lunch on a mission when you'd forgotten. remembered your tells, your favourites. and whenever the name “gojo” was uttered? your heart didn't clench in memory of your ex. but in fondness for his relative.
maybe that's why you started staring at him from across gala rooms. maybe that's why you looked for him during meetings. awaited his texts that became calls.
it's common to crave affection from a friend, isn't it?
was it common to lean against them in the head of night, on your tippy toes ( somehow he was taller than satoru ), hands flushed to his kimono, his back to the shoji. . . with your lips just barely brushing his?
was it normal to grow excited as his trembling hands balled and his white eyes gaped at you?
“what're you. . .”
“please,” you leaned further. eyes soft. only for him. only ever for him.
he caught the curve of your head and stroked his thumb on your cheek. just as he did when he wiped your tears away that night.
“please tell me I'm not the only one.” you murmured.
you watched his gaze shatter. his pupils shrink. your lips brushed his— he didn't stop you. and for a moment, a devastating moment, you hoped.
“I. . .” he whispers, lips nudging closer. they brushed yours like a secret. locked away in the walls of this gojo clan.
sighh imagine enari with a colourfull s/o,, something he'll never get the chance to fully see
𝅄 ꒰ ۶ৎ ꒱ ۪ ݁ he's like the yearning moon 💔 colourless in your glow and wishing so dearly that he could see you to your fullest. he hears everyone talk about your outfits or accessories or just your glow and he feels so empty but also strangely even more in love with you. because isn't it an honour to love someone and know they are even more dazzling than you perceive them?
