#jiso.drabbles

[jisokai]

…dabihawks threesome goes crazy because they good cop/bad cop dom you lol

(smut, degradation and praise, implied cisfem reader)

“Quit moving, brat,” Touya nearly growls. 

Two rough fingers thrust through your folds, eliciting a string of whimpers from your throat. You obey the best you can, but your hips rut with his movements, meeting his knuckle halfway. The heat is dizzying, all consuming as the thread of pleasure coils tighter and tighter within you.

Touya grunts, tearing his hand away. You whimper, protesting your loss when you had only just begun to crest the hill.

“Hah…” he laughs above you, a drawn out sound. His fingers trace your thighs meanly—to remind you what he’s refusing to give. 

You manage your eyes open, just enough to catch the glint of his hair: slivers of moon in the dim room. His grin matches his tone, a sharp display of teeth. It fades as his fingers trace back to your center, slipping slowly—tauntingly—where you’re soaking for him. A thumb presses harshly against your clit and you shudder, slipping back into fuzzy darkness.

You plead while he edges you again, stringing you along only to slow down once more. Tears clump in your lashes as you succumb to begging, babbling pleas for him to let you finish.

But he laughs again, coming to a stop. You whine, a ring that echoes through the room.

“What makes y’think you deserve it?”

He’s meaner than usual, dragging it out a little longer than you’re used to. You release a shaky exhale.

Then he grunts, Keigo’s elbow jutting into his side. The noise startles your eyes open.

“She’s been good,” Keigo says firmly.

Touya’s face twists in annoyance, challenging Keigo’s glare. The latter glances at you and smiles, a gentle curve edging into his cheek. His hair fluffs around him, the golden wisps of the sun.

“Isn’t that right, pretty?”

You nod on instinct, tilting into the blond’s touch as his hand lowers to caress your cheek. 

Touya tsks as he elbows Keigo back, nudging him away from you. When your eyes drift to him he’s softened. He sighs, head dipping to kiss your temple. His hand trails along your thighs—still quickly, but softer this time. You gasp when three fingers sink inside you, all the way to the knuckle before curling in long strokes.

“So good baby… so pretty,” he mumbles against your skin as he works you back up to your high.

More tears well along your waterline, this time from the buzzing in your chest. You finish with a cry, covering the slick sounds of Touya’s hand drawing out your release.

“M’sorry for taking longer to say it today.”

[jisokai]

kita whose voice never fails to soothe you, so on restless nights he’ll tuck you into bed and sit by your side, smooth a hand over your forehead and cheek as he speaks lowly about the farm.

“diggin’ another field in the east right now. the ducks r'gonna need a new shelter, might try somethin’ new to collect the eggs..."

he watches your eyes lose focus as you hum, lashes fluttering closed. his gentle smile creeps into his voice as it continues steadily.

"thinkin' about planting fruit 'round the house. persimmons are hardy 'n we can dry 'em for the winter. i know ya enjoy that sorta thing…”

after a twitch runs through your body and your chest moves in a steady rhythm, he shifts topics—like he always does.

"i hope yer happy here, with me 'n our life. 's quiet but i know that's good for ya, for us."

he carefully touches your hand peeking through the covers, runs fingertips against your palm. you twitch as if trying to grab him, to hold him. kita's chest buzzes.

"granny says a diamond is best. it's traditional," he whispers, tracing the finger he imagines wearing the stone. "but samu's into gems 'n he thinks a different stone would suit you—at least for a proposal."

gold irises trace your face. you're calm, asleep.

he exhales, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. the hand over yours clutches tighter than he intended. you stir, and his heart jumps.

"hnnn, shinsuke?" your voice is a sleep-coated murmur.

"'m right here," he assures, lips now moving against your temple.

you nod lazily, eyes closing as you slip away again.

"good," you mumble as you let yourself fall back into your dreams. dreams of rice fields swarmed with ducks, ripe persimmons, another peaceful day with kita beside you.

and cool metal on your ring finger—heavy. grounding.

[jisokai]

“Finally met Luffy.”

You grin against Ace’s chest, skin hot beneath your lips. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” he hums. “He’s got the beginnings of a proper crew. They’re good people, the kind who’ll look out for him.”

He doesn’t continue, but you can tell he has more to say. There’s a haze in his eyes, a distance that clues you into what he’s thinking. Your smile falters.

“If—” he stops himself.

You wait.

“They’re good people,” he tries again. “Real good people. They know how to take care of each other. Luffy… he’s gonna be okay in their hands.”

You nod.

“The cook, Sanji…” his eyes dart to yours, mouth twisting slightly. “He… If I weren’t so selfish, I’d tell you to find a guy like him instead.”

“Ace!” You frown, pulling your head from his chest. The sad, resigned smile he sports is heartbreaking. “Don’t say that. You know I don’t want anyone who isn’t you.”

“He’d treat you so well,” he continues easily, lifting your fingers to his lips. “If something happens to me—”

“Ace,” you nearly growl. You yank your hand from his so you can cup his cheek, holding his head firmly so he can’t escape your glare. He has the courtesy to look embarrassed. You sigh. “I love you.”

He inhales. You watch the inflation of his chest, the surprise in his eyes that you wish you could steal and bury somewhere far, far away.

“I love you,” he echoes, fingers tracing up your sides.

Your chest buzzes, but you shake your head. “I love you.”

He pauses, eyes uncertain. You nod with encouragement.

“You love me,” he breathes, voice trembling.

You smile before leaning to capture his lips. They’re hot against yours, the same burning heat that lives in his heart. When you break, still close enough to ghost your breath along his freckles, you whisper, “I do.”

“You love me,” he says again, voice sturdier but heart aching.

“Only you,” you promise. “Always you.”

(full fic version)

[jisokai]

Since Suna has me in a chokehold I'm wondering what kind of fic I could write for him but unfortunately all I'm thinking is that I NEED to be sandwiched between him and Kita sorry sorry sorry...

smut, reader has breasts and a vagina (no pronouns)

Suna's greedy when he fucks—hurried between your legs, irises blown as fox eyes flitter to yours. He eats you hungrily, two lithe fingers sliding into you as you arch with a gasp, your head falling onto Kita's shoulder behind you.

A sharp grin slides into the corner of his cheek, eyes dropping to the softness of your belly—clenched as he thrusts his hand against you. He moans at the sight, lashes fluttering closed as he presses his face harder against your mons, breathing in the sweetness of your skin and slick.

You're in Kita's lap at the edge of the bed, Suna's figure kneeling before you. The former holds you carefully, gently, as you whine. He trails kisses up your neck, one hand firm on your side while the other cups your breast—rolling your nipple between his fingers.

"Bein' s'good love," he breathes beneath your ear. Shivers roll down your spine, compounding with the shock of your pinched nipple, of Suna's ruthless tongue against your clit.

You whine from the intensity, jerking your legs as each touch shoots straight to your cunt. Suna groans when your knees squeeze together, head squished between your thighs. His fingers slip from your movement and you whine again, this time from the loss.

"Uh-uh," Kita chides, hands snaking down your body. When he reaches the inside of your thighs, they push firmly, spreading you.

Suna groans, fingers immediately slipping back inside your heat. He adds a third, curling harshly, and makes a choked sound when your slick runs down his wrist. His free hand comes to one thigh, holding it so the other's can return to your breast. Kita pinches your nipple harshly, a warning, before his fingers slide further to cradle your neck.

"Stay good fer us," he demands right against your ear. "Y'can do that, yeah?"

[jisokai]

Your chest rages, swirling with flames of anger and spite. Venom seeps through your teeth as you snarl, “I said leave.”

Kita blinks, amber eyes running along your face in search of answers. His stoicism stokes the fire; he’s always too quiet, too calm.

He reaches for you, large hand undeterred when you try to smack it away. Instead it carefully clutches your forearm in a soft but strong grip. You nearly hiss as he steps forward, jutting your free elbow into his stomach as he backs you against the wall. He doesn’t flinch.

In a moment you are stuck between Kita and the partition, neither giving in to your thrashing. You are a typhoon trapped between two shores, not yet ready to wither. Hot tears surface, stinging your nose and eyes. A choked whimper escapes your lips.

Kita is a stone against your body, one smoothed by rough waters and warmed by the sun. He presses himself firmly against you, nudges his chin against your head. His steadiness is tempting, but you are not ready to calm yourself.

So he waits. Quietly, until you break.

When you lose your strength and finally drop your elbow, he shifts. Immediately his warmth is pressed against your front. Calloused hands cradle your face, thumbs swiping beneath your eyes. 

Tender lips brush your lashes as he asks, “What’s got ya so upset?”

You frown, another wave of tears pooling. Guilt settles heavily on your shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

Kita smiles, a look of softness. “I know,” he answers, one hand falling to hold yours. “But s’not what I was askin’.”

You swallow back more tears. Your voice wavers when you say, “Feels hard to explain.”

“Try f’me,” he encourages. “Doesn’ have t’make sense.”

(& you will, in choppy sentences while he hums and kisses your fingertips. He’ll listen carefully, consider every jumbled word and watch with sincere eyes. He’ll do everything he can to understand you, to make you feel valued, and at the end whisper, “Thank ya for sharin’ the burden.”)

[jisokai]

nanami finally takes a break and travels south.

he lands first in kuala lumpur, breathing in malaysian cityscapes before moving east to tioman: an island along the way to borneo. he splurged for this section of the trip, nestled alone in a bungalow between ocean and jungle.

here, he rests. he reads a book on the shore, accompanied by the lullaby of waves and the warm embrace of the sun. while he needs it, it unsettles him, grates discomfort in his chest to be idle.

when he stands and sifts his feet through the sand, tracing a river of footsteps from the water back to his quarters, he freezes. by the edge of the dwelling, shadowed by thick tropical leaves, an animal locks eyes with him. it's crouched behind the vegetation with its face—the sharp corners of a feline, the color of smoke and marked with lines of black—peering through the opening.

he blinks. it blinks back.

abruptly, it turns. it's the jerk of a flinch, looking towards something nanami cannot see, before darting away. he catches a glimpse of its body, the swirls of black clouds that smear like ink across parchment. it leaves the stain of an energy he can't identify, something not quite a curse.

a clouded leopard, he learns, is what he saw. an impossibility. they're a dying species, declared extinct in two countries. the ghost of the forest is their second name, an elusive animal and rare sight.

nanami doesn't know what to make of it.

the following day, when he treks alone through the jungle, surrounded by green and thicket and fog, that energy lingers everywhere. unsettling.

a rustle sounds behind him, carries upwards through the trees and across the canopies. the leaves shudder, a blur of tan and black darting between them and ahead of him on the trail. then it's gone, in the same instant it arrived.

moments later when he's further down the path, a shadow emerges in the fog. the figure is human, growing as it bounds closer until finally breaking through.

you, moving with confidence as you float down rain-slicked rocks.

nanami steps aside, nodding to let you pass. your lashes flicker over dark eyes, sharp with mirth as they meet his gaze. the fabric of your shirt billows behind you, the swirl of a pen stroke.

he swallows, overwhelmed with a wave of that not-quite-cursed energy. before he can think he turns to get another glimpse, lips parting as if to call out to you—

but you're gone, dissolved like a ghost.

[jisokai]

Shouto’s father doesn’t like you.

It’s a scenario you were prepared for—one you imagined in the private company of your nerves. But Shouto was unconcerned when you told him, and his dismissal lowered your guard; you figured he was confident in you and your ability to win his family over.

It didn’t occur to you that his attitude was because he wouldn’t care what they thought of you.

Dinner is rough, a thick wall of tension splitting you from Enji across the table. His eyes—the blue of twin raging storms—follow your every move, eyebrows lifting when you place your sake to the left. You wilt under his scorching stare, nerves crawling from the self consciousness of your etiquette, every subsequent change in his expression.

“Oyaji,” Shouto warns from beside you, eyes narrowing at his father in an icy glare.

Enji’s expression doesn’t change, meeting Shouto’s challenge. You swallow as the air in the room thickens. It’s silent, unnerving. 

Fuyumi laughs nervously beside you, raving about the sashimi to fill the space. Her chopsticks reach for the center of the table, piling tuna and salmon on your plate. You thank her with a grimace, eyes averting from Enji carefully.

You catch Rei’s face beside her husband, schooled in an elegant and unbothered expression. Natsuo and his fiance eat quietly at the end, only trading glances with one another.

Touya laughs across the table, a sharp sound that rings.

“Touya,” Shouto warns his brother this time.

Your cheeks burn, eyes falling to your bowl of rice. They sting, blurring as saltwater pools in your lashes. You blink rapidly to clear them, lifting the dish to your mouth to shield yourself from the many watchful gazes.

A gentle hand lands on your thigh—Shouto, trying to reassure you.

You inhale sharply, nearly slamming down the bowl as you slide the chair back and stand.

“Excuse me for one moment,” you say quickly with a bow.

It only takes three hurried steps to exit the room.

Behind you, multiple voices start—deep and loud and challenging one another. One is clearly Shouto’s, only angrier than you’ve ever heard. You race down the hall, wanting to be far far away. The sound of the door sliding open strikes panic in your heart.

Shouto calls your name. It’s a desperate noise.

You sprint as fast as you can.

[jisokai]

The other side to the tattoo artist AU I can't stop thinking about is if Shinsou was the one doing your piece…

He'd be overly respectful, not sliding your waistband on his own. Instead his eyes meet yours when he approaches your hip, glancing at the fabric as a signal to pull it down. You have to hold it in place since it keeps riding up, but you can't see the area with him hunched over your stomach.

“I don't mind,” you tell him, giving him permission to move your clothes at his convenience.

He hums noncommittally, a rough and throaty sound. Warm fingers press into the side of your belly as he continues. When he needs to dip beneath your waistband again, sharp lilac irises glance to yours before he tugs gently at the fabric of your pants—just enough to reach the skin he needs.

He's wearing a mask, hiding any expression he might be making, but the tips of his ears are red.