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Emi ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ | 30 | she/her | Just a weeb writing self-indulgent fantasies | MDNI

✧˖° Mainly jjk-oriented ✧˖° May occasionally post for other fandoms including record of ragnarok, gachiakuta, or whatever else I'm hyperfixated on at the moment ✧˖° Not spoiler-free! ✧˖° Likes and reblogs always greatly appreciated <3 ✧˖° Requests open!

NAVIGATION

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RECENTS

☾ damocles ⚴ frat!kuna takes shy!reader to a metal show ⚴ don't fear the reaper chap 4 ☽

Happy to have you here! <3

#navigation #emi writes

indiewritesxoxo

no. one party anthem

track twenty-five: if you're gone | prev track< | setlist

three rockstars! one you!

synopsis: your best friend has always been an asshole - whether it's in his band or in his bed. him ditching you? nothing new. but when one bedroom door closes, another one opens

pairings: rockstar!Suguru Geto x f!Reader x childhood fwb!Sukuna (+ rockstar!gojo!!)

content: mdni, angst and fluff, rockstar au!, complicated relationships and messy emotions, avoidant attachment, HEAVY PINING AND YEARNING, denying feelings, reader is a mess, conflicting emotions, more of all them suffering, tension and teasing

a/n: art by @torucider !! div by @/tsumiinum

There had to be an ending to the seemingly bottomless pit of bad decisions you'd been making lately.

But every day you were more fucking scared you weren't at rock bottom yet.

How much lower could you go?

Especially when you were already sitting at your ex's dining table and ignoring the constant buzzing of your phone on the closest counter.

Why look when you knew what would be waiting there?

Sukuna asking you to come back. To speak to him like a mature adult instead of acting like an avoidant child who couldn't handle confrontation.

But if you did, would that be it?

Inviting the real ending you'd been desperately trying to ignore?

"Shoko said she'd keep the girls tonight," Suguru called out, examining a bottle of wine before putting it back on his nice rack and grabbing a different one.

You were surprised he still bought the brand you liked.

A little stunned at how smoothly you seemed to slip back into the old swing of things. He had picked you up from the street less than ten minutes after you called, hurrying to open the door for you and asking you what felt like a hundred questions all to confirm you were really okay before bringing you back home.

You lied, of course.

Okay was no longer a word that could be applied to you. But being back with him was about as close as you could get.

He took you back to his place, half-shoved you into the bathroom with that stern stare of his, insisting that you take a warm shower and get changed while he washed your wet clothes. By the time you got back out, food had already been delivered. Sit out all nicely on the table as if this was some pre-planned get together instead of him rescuing you from yourself once more.

"I'm sorry for calling you like that," you awkwardly apologized, curling up in the seat as you opened up your to-go box, a comforting scent wafting up from it.

"You can always call me," he casually replied, unbothered by you just intruding on his evening. "If you need me-"

You didn't want to need him.

To need any of them.

#SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP MY SHOW IS ONNNNNNNNNN #INDIE!!!!!!!!!!#I’M DYING I NEED TO KNOW WHOSE ENDING THIS IS!!!!!!!#emi’s recs #geto x reader #sukuna x reader

mrsblaileen

I’m thinking about nanami who has a not so secret crush professional interest in gojo’s wife (fem!reader). nsfw 18+ drabble. mlist

──── ୨୧ ────

On Nanami’s birthday he enjoys the celebration and praise from everyone, but there’s one little thing nagging at the back of his mind through all the cakes and badly wrapped tie pins. He doesn’t say anything, but your presence is pointedly missing, and that tiny fact is enough to dampen his spirits despite the jovial atmosphere. He’s a little grumpy by the end of the day as a result, more so by the way Gojo seems to be hell bent on clinging to him. After one too maybe bear hugs he finally makes a remark, a snide little comment about how he much prefers Gojo’s “other half”. Gojo just grins that same shit-eating grin as usual, but his grip on Nanami’s shoulder is tight when he chirps in reply “let’s go see her then, right now!”.

Nanami barely has the chance to open his mouth before he’s engulfed in a sizzle of energy. Gojo’s hand still firmly clasped over his shoulder, he finds himself standing in an unfamiliar bedroom, and when his vision finally focuses he chokes at the sight that greets him. It’s you, blindfolded, splayed over crisp white sheets and wrapped up like a gift. Each bare limb is glittering, bound expertly in an intricate banding of yellow ribbon - his favourite colour. He hadn’t had a favourite colour before, not until he’d seen you waltz in one morning donning a yellow sundress, looking like a beam of sunlight personified. He sees you in the daisies that pepper the footpath, the warmth of a summer day, the sand beneath his feet on the beachside, and now in the restraints lacing each of your oiled limbs like a bow atop a gift he’s been pining after for years - and it’s all just too much.

He’s speechless, unable to even lift a finger to argue when Gojo guides him into a chair directly across from where you’re perched on the bed, giving him a stellar view of just how far gone you already are. Nanami is dizzy, tenfold when his eyes roam down and he notices the little red light blinking between your spread thighs, tucked beneath a pair of pale blue panties already soaked through and glistening a little with the vibration.

Gojo’s smile has settled into a sharp line, and his voice is low and cutting when he leans down to purr into Nanami’s ear, his hands massaging either tense shoulder. “You wanted to fuck my wife, right? Well take it all in Nanamin, this is the closest you’re ever gonna get.”

#fdfsfstddgeycdc #I’m really into possessive and jealous men rn #emi’s recs #gojo x reader #nanami x reader

t0jisbunny

olderbf!toji shows you why older men do it better ꒰♡

based on this request જ⁀◝✩ mdni.ᐟ

you’d both finished dinner, sat opposite one another as you wait for the bill.

that’s when a younger man strutted over, most likely around your age, decent looking and way too confident after a few drinks.

“so, you really came here with your… dad?” the guy asked, laughing like he’d made the funniest joke in the world. toji stares him down, narrowing his eyes, which was usually enough for anyone to take off running.

so, unfortunately, you rarely got to see your older boyfriend truly jealous.

most people wouldn’t dare challenge toji — after all, he’s six foot two and packed with muscle most guys could only dream of having. he didn’t often have to throw punches anymore. anyone who knew what was best for themselves would usually stay far away.

apart from this arrogant prick.

“boyfriend,” you correct him, shifting closer to toji who grips your thigh possessively under the table.

you turn to look at toji, who doesn’t look particularly angry, — just bored and unamused.

“don’t you want a man who can keep up with your… needs? can’t say i think this old man does," the guy smirks, looking down at your cleavage, making toji grip your thigh tighter.

toji stands up, slowly, closing the distance between him and the younger man with one stride. it wasn’t until toji began towering over him with that murderous look in his eye that the guy visibly started to regret his choices.

the atmosphere falls silent for a moment, toji only inches from the guy’s face, until-

thwack!

your big brute of a boyfriend knocks the fucker out with one lazy punch.

you raise your eyebrows, watching the guy get knocked the fuck out — then looking back at toji, who was already looking at you.

toji grabs your wrist as gently as he knows how, yanking you out of your seat and to the bathrooms nearby.

thank god you’d chosen a booth near the back of the restaurant.

within seconds, you’re pinned against the sink with toji’s lips on yours, kissing you with no room for air. his rough hands were all over you, tangling in your hair, groping your tits, making their way up your dress to tug your panties down.

"toji — mnnn — someone could walk in," you pant, being lifted onto the counter, soaked panties now loosely hanging around one ankle.

your mouth hangs wide open as he spits directly onto your cunt, shimmying his pants down hurriedly, then nudging his thick tip against your entrance.

"let em’," he rasps, attacking your neck with his teeth and tongue, "hope that arrogant prick walks in n sees how good this ‘old man’ fucks you."

with that, he drives his hips forward, bottoming out in one harsh thrust that makes you mewl loud enough for the entire damn restaurant to hear.

"atta girl, let em all know how full i stuff this pretty cunt," he grunts, setting a relentless, dizzying pace — one hand on your hip, another behind your neck.

he keeps the filthiest eye contact with you, smirking at how you desperately try to conceal your moans. "ahhnn — ohmygod — toji," you whine, gripping onto his meaty biceps for stability.

groaning loudly, toji hikes his shirt up, biting down on the hem with his sharp canines to keep it there, toned abs and deep v-line on full display for you to gawk at.

your pussy flutters around his dick at the sight, more breathy moans escaping you as he pounds you harder. "good fuckin’ girl, takin’ me so well,” he rasps.

he fucks you harder at the thought of other men lusting after you, thrusts driven by possessiveness. his thumb moves down to your clit, rubbing it up and down, making you flutter desperately around his length.

"mnghh — m’gonna cum—“ you cry out, locking your legs firmly around his waist, fingernails raking down his back from the overwhelming pleasure.

you only spur him on, cunt sucking him in tighter, heavy balls smacking against your ass as he gets ready to pump you full of his cum and walk out of the bathroom with you like nothing had happened.

"gonna fill this pretty pussy up, have my cum leakin’ down your thighs as we walk outta here," he grunts, pressing his forehead to yours, thrusts becoming short and shallow.

“god, yes— fill me up, mnnn— please," you plead, thighs twitching and shaking still.

with a hoarse grunt, toji spills his load deep inside of you, slamming into you hard as he rids himself of every drop.

"mine…" he pants lightly, claiming your lips again, cock beginning to soften inside of you.

you were prepared for the fact you probably wouldn’t be able to come back to the restaurant again.

#I live for food but I’d get kicked out of any restaurant any day for toji #emi’s recs #toji x reader

t0jisbunny

your big boyfriend always leaves you sore between your legs 𐦍

fluff/ light smut

you thought you’d be used to having a big boyfriend by now — six foot three, body sculpted by the gods, dick big and heavy (and he knew it).

the morning after he’d fucked you stupid, you’re used to having a little tenderness between your legs. it was normal to you. expected.

that’s not to say it wasn’t close to agonising sometimes.

"y’okay, sweets?" satoru asks as you wake, cuddling up to you as soon as he catches a glimpse of discomfort on your face.

he presses a kiss to your shoulder, watching you clutch your lower stomach. "mhm, just sore," you reply.

you were a little more than sore, but he didn’t need to know that.

satoru nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, then rolls you over so you’re flat on the bed. "my poor baby. lemme see."

there wasn’t an ounce of mock-sympathy in his voice — just pure love and affection.

you let him pull your shorts down, placing them beside you. he kisses your knee before parting your legs, gaze focused on your pussy. it’s like you could still feel him down there, the soreness and weight of him still lingering.

satoru hums as he parts your folds, pussy still slightly puffy and red, most of the pain on the inside near your cervix. "m’sorry, princess," he says, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your clit.

"mm, i have such a big, mean boyfriend" you respond with a faint smile.

satoru giggles, then slides your shorts back onto you, gathering you in his strong arms to give you all his love and attention. "soooo mean," he says, kissing you all over your face with exaggerated ‘mwah’ sounds.

after cuddling you for a little while, he grabs you your heating pad, placing it on your lower stomach before drawing you a hot bath. and of course, he orders you copious amounts of food and unnecessary gifts.

"you don’t have to do all this, toru. i’m okay," you say, watching him saunter back over to you with that infamous casual confidence, gathering you in his arms and walking you over to the bathroom.

"shhh," he hushes, sitting you on the ledge of the bath and helping you undress, "always gonna take care of my princess."

he pauses for a second, allowing a moment of silence before breaking it again. "suchhhhh a shame i have such a massive di-"

you cut him off with a glare as he climbs behind you into the bath, shortly after setting you down in it.

you love your big, cocky boyfriend.

more like this

#this made me lol #emi’s recs #gojo x reader

tays-writing

Where he draws the line | p3

Satoru Gojo x Reader

part 1 . part 2.

Being loved by the strongest is complicated. Being married to him as a sorcerer from a despised clan makes you dangerous. But no one is foolish enough to cross the line of an utterly devoted man, right?

cr: @_3aem on X

CW / Fic tags: NSFW. Married couple/Established relationship. Plot & Smut. Possessiveness. Vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, creampie, oral sex (f and m rec), inappropiate use of cursed technique, fluff, hurt/comfort. Satoru Gojo goes insane

The drive took a little over an hour. Nanami had never been particularly conversational during missions, and today you found yourself grateful for it. The steady hum of the engine filled most of the silence while the city slowly gave way to quieter roads and scattered industrial buildings.

You reviewed the mission file again anyway. Grade One curse. Abandoned manufacturing district.

Across from you, Nanami closed the folder he’d been reading and adjusted his tie before glancing in your direction.

He wasn't stupid. He'd noticed the way you'd gone unusually quiet whenever the subject drifted too close to certain conversations. He didn't know everything, and he suspected you preferred it that way.

His thoughts drifted back to the phone call you'd shared days earlier.

I want you to treat me like I'm not there.

You had sounded calm when you'd said it.

I can handle myself.

Nanami had never doubted that. What concerned him was that you seemed to underestimate the toll sustained amplification took on your body, especially when you’re amplifying a high-grade sorcerer.

A quiet sigh escaped him as he looked back out the window. Whatever concerns he had, the decision had already been made. You were here. The mission had been approved. And until given a reason otherwise, he intended to trust your judgment.

By the time Ijichi pulled the vehicle to a stop, the sun had already begun its descent behind the industrial skyline. Rows of abandoned warehouses stretched in every direction, their rusted exteriors stained by years of neglect. It looked exactly like the photographs in the mission briefing.

As the two of you moved deeper into the industrial complex, your gaze swept automatically across rooftops, broken windows, elevated walkways.

Searching for cameras, of course. They weren’t the type to stand in the shadows and watch personally. If they wanted information, they had dozens of ways to obtain it.

The point was that someone would eventually read what happened here.

A few steps ahead, Nanami slowed. The smallest acknowledgment.

As you both were expecting, the curse ahead wasn’t a threat to him. Not with your amplification, and not even without it.

Bringing you here had never been about necessity. It had been about observation.

Nanami glanced back once, you held his gaze.

A few days ago, over the phone, he had offered you an exit. And you refused.

Treat me like I’m not there.

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly before he looked away again.

You moved into position, the connection forming almost immediately. Your cursed energy reached for his, threading itself into the familiar pathways. Amplification had always felt less like adding something and more like removing obstacles.

Most people assumed amplification was effortless. It wasn’t. Sustaining a connection to a powerful sorcerer for extended periods always came with a cost. By the end of longer missions, your own cursed energy tended to lag behind, slower to respond, slower to recover.

The curse emerged from between rows of rusted machinery, its massive frame forcing twisted metal aside as it dragged itself into view.

Nanami moved before it could fully reveal itself.

The connection between your cursed energies tightened instantly as he closed the distance. You felt the familiar pull of amplification settle deeper into place, sharpening his output, smoothing every movement until there was something almost effortless about the way he fought.

His blade cut across its arm with enough force to send the creature reeling backward, a distorted scream echoing through the warehouse as black blood splattered across the concrete. Before it could recover, he was already moving again.

Another strike. Then another. Each one landed with the same ruthless precision.

You found yourself frowning. The mission briefing had painted a picture of a Grade One threat requiring immediate intervention. Yet Nanami was dismantling it in less than a minute.

By the time the curse made one final attempt to attack, pieces of its body were already beginning to dissolve.

For a moment, everything went quiet. Not the natural quiet that follows the end of a fight, but something stranger.

Across the warehouse, Nanami didn’t lower his weapon.

The same thought had already occurred to both of you. Something about this felt wrong.

Suddenly, a pulse of cursed energy rolled through the warehouse. There was something deeper inside the complex.

A second presence. No. Not second

Realization hit a fraction too late.

The real one.

Satoru had never admitted this to anyone. Not to Shoko. Not to Suguru. And definitely not to you.

The truth was that for almost an entire year, he had been convinced you were in love with Suguru. Looking back, it was probably the most embarrassing conclusion he had ever reached. At the time, though, the evidence had seemed overwhelming.

One afternoon he found the two of you sitting beneath a tree near the training grounds. Suguru leaned against the trunk with a notebook in his lap. You sat cross-legged beside him, gesturing animatedly as you explained something.

“…amplification isn’t actually adding anything” you were saying.

Suguru nodded immediately.

“You’re removing inefficiencies.”

“Exactly” you said, pointing at him with a bright smile “I wish we were in the same year, Sugu. It would’ve been fun”

The comment was innocent. Satoru still hated it enough that he stepped forward and cleared his throat loudly.

Both of you looked up.

“How are you doing that?” he asked, pointing between the two of you

Suguru sighed. You looked genuinely confused.

“Doing what?”

“The thing”

“What thing?”

“The weird thing where you both understand each other after three words.”

“We’re having a conversation, Satoru” you said, amused

Suguru looked at him for a long moment

“Are you jealous?” his friend asked, completely deadpan

Satoru nearly choked on his own spit.

“What? No” he answered too quickly

Suguru didn’t even blink.

“You’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“You absolutely are.”

“I am literally the strongest sorcerer alive.” Satoru protested, crossing his arms like that somehow proved his point.

“The fuck does that have to do with being jealous?”

“I’m n—”

Your laugh cut him off, hand pressed over your mouth trying –and failing– to not laugh at him.

The sound followed him for the rest of the day. That was another problem. Everything about you lingered.

For a long time, Satoru convinced himself he simply enjoyed your company. That lie worked surprisingly well. Right up until the day you weren’t there.

Nanami mentioned in passing that you’d gotten sick and wouldn’t be joining training.

By noon, he was in a terrible mood. By two o’clock Suguru threatened to throw him through a wall.

“You’ve managed to be even more unbearable than usual today. Impressive” Shoko said, and didn’t even look up from her phone. “Just go visit her.”

His entire body froze.

“What makes you think I want to visit her?”

“Satoru.”

“What?”

“You’re pathetic.”

Suguru, who had been pretending to read a report, snorted loudly from the corner of the room.

“You should just tell her,” he added, voice calm but firm.

The room went dead silent.

Satoru stared at Suguru. Suguru stared back, completely unfazed. Shoko slowly lowered her phone, watching the exchange like it was the most entertaining thing she’d seen all week.

“Tell her what?” Satoru asked, his voice suspiciously casual, almost airy.

Suguru didn’t hesitate.

“That you’re in love with her.”

The words landed like a lighting strike.

For a second, nobody spoke, and he felt heat crawl up his neck. Then he laughed — sharp, defensive, the kind of laugh that gave everything away.

“You’re insane.”

Suguru simply raised an eyebrow, calm as ever.

“Am I?”

The horrifying part wasn’t that his friends knew. The horrifying part was that they were right.

At some point, somewhere between missions and training and ordinary afternoons, being near you had stopped being a choice.

It had become instinct.

The cursed energy struck like a tidal wave, and the pressure kept building — heavier, darker, rolling through the metal beams and concrete walls like something alive.

Across from you, Nanami moved without hesitation. His hand went straight to his phone, no discussion needed. If a Special Grade had somehow slipped into the area, protocol was clear: report immediately and prepare for escalation.

You were already doing the same, fingers flying across the screen. But when it lit up, the signal bar remained empty. No signal.

Behind you, Nanami lowered his own device with a slow, deliberate motion. His silence said everything.

You had no way to report what you’d found. The realization settled heavily between you, and suddenly everything clicked.

This wasn’t a random encounter.

You had known this assignment was a test. You had known the higher-ups were watching, waiting for you to slip. But you hadn’t realized until this moment just how far they were willing to go.

Your jaw tightened, a slow burn of anger mixing with the dread curling in your chest. They hadn’t just sent you into a dangerous situation. They had manufactured one. Placing a Special Grade — or something close enough to feel like one — in front of Nanami, one of Jujutsu High’s most reliable Grade One sorcerers. All while knowing you would be here to amplify him.

A few days ago, sitting across from those elders, you had assumed there were limits they wouldn’t cross.

Naively, apparently.

Because somebody had looked at this operation, looked at the possibility of placing a Special Grade in front of one of Jujutsu High’s strongest Grade One sorcerers, and decided the risk was acceptable.

They were gambling with his life just to test you.

And worse, they were doing it on purpose. You were the real target. Always had been.

Retreat would have been the smart move. The logical one. But something told you that whatever was lurking further inside wouldn’t simply let you walk away. And if it broke free from this abandoned complex and reached the populated streets just a few kilometers away…

Civilians.

The thought cut through everything else. You couldn’t let that happen. Not when you had the power to stop it.

The guilt you’d been carrying pressed heavier now. If things went wrong here, if Nanami got hurt because of this manufactured trap…

No. He wouldn’t. You’d make sure of that.

You exhaled slowly, letting your technique settle under your skin like a second pulse,

“I’m going to amplify you every twenty seconds” you said, voice low but firm “Don’t hold back. Don’t look back. I’ll keep you at full power. Just focus on ending this quickly.”

Nanami’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of protest crossing his usually composed features. He opened his mouth — probably to argue — but you didn’t give him the chance.

“There’s no other way” you know it. If you didn’t amplify him, there was no chance of you exorcising that thing. And he know it too, but the weight of unspoken concern was heavy between you.

Then he gave a single, sharp nod

The air grew colder. And from the depths of the warehouse, whatever was hiding back there had finally decided to stop playing games.

You were adults now. No longer students. Full-time sorcerers, taking on missions and carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.

And still… Satoru hadn’t asked you out.

He had spent the last three years quietly, pathetically in love with you. Learning every little detail: the way you liked your coffee, the exact way your nose scrunched when you were trying not to laugh at his stupid jokes. He memorized every little thing. He waited. Patient in a way he never was with anything else. He savored. He let every small moment stretch out as long as possible.

One late evening, the two of you were alone in the common room of the faculty building. The lights were dim, and you were sitting on the couch showing him something on your phone. Satoru, however, wasn’t paying attention to the screen at all. He was staring at your face again — completely lost.

You noticed, of course.

“Satoru” you said, waving a hand in front of his eyes

He blinked slowly, then leaned forward with that signature cocky grin.

“Baby” he drawled, the pet name slipping out like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Stop that” you muttered

“Stop what?” he asked innocently, though his pulse was racing

“You know what. The staring. And the ‘baby’ thing”

Satoru tilted his head, smirking wider

“Does it make you nervous?”

You looked away for a second, then back at him with that soft, knowing smile that always made his brain stop working.

“Pretty sure you’re the one who’s nervous, Satoru.”

He opened his mouth to deny it, but you kept going, voice gentle but direct.

“For the strongest sorcerer in the world, your confession game is actually terrible” you said, lips curving into a playful, lopsided smile. “Just ask me out already.”

Satoru’s brain short-circuited. His heart was hammering so violently he genuinely thought it might climb up his throat and choke him.

For a few long seconds he just stared at you, mouth slightly open, all his usual arrogance nowhere to be found.

You waited, watching him with fond amusement, before finally taking mercy on him.

“Satoru?”

“Yeah?” His voice came out embarrassingly rough.

You leaned in just slightly, eyes warm and certain.

“I’m in love with you too.”

Before your words could even fully settle in the quiet room, he reached out. His hands caught your face with a tenderness that almost hurt. His sunglasses slipped down the bridge of his nose, exposing the brilliant, unmasked intensity of his eyes. He didn't say a word. He just pulled you into him, closing the distance between your lips in a kiss that felt like inevitability.

It was deep, desperate, and entirely consuming. Satoru kissed you as if he were trying to swallow the very air in your lungs, his thumbs wiping across your cheekbones while his entire body leaned over yours, backing you into the cushions of the couch, infinity completely vanished. He wanted to feel the heat of your skin, the frantic beat of your pulse against his fingers, the soft sigh that left your mouth into his.

When he finally pulled back, just an inch, his forehead rested against yours. His breathing was ragged, his lips slightly bruised, and for the first time in his life, Gojo Satoru looked entirely defenseless.

"You have no idea" he whispered against your mouth. "You have absolutely no idea what you just did."

That night had changed everything. Three years of silent pining, three years of learning you, wanting you, waiting for the right moment… and you had been the one to finally push him off the cliff.

Even years later, he still remembered the way his world shifted the moment those words left your lips.

You weren’t just someone he loved. You had become the undisputed center of his world

The monstrous curse burst from the depths of the warehouse — a grotesque mass of twisted limbs, countless blinking eyes, and a pulsing core of volatile cursed energy. It was undeniably Special Grade.

Nanami charged forward without hesitation, his Ratio Technique flaring to life as he closed the distance with precise, lethal movements.

You stayed close, moving with him, keeping within striking range while dodging flying debris and lashing tentacles of cursed energy.

Twenty seconds.

You darted in during a brief opening, fingers brushing his shoulder blade. Your amplification surged into him like a second wind. Nanami’s strikes became sharper, faster, more absolute.

The curse shrieked and swung wildly. You rolled under a sweeping limb and sprinted to the side, keeping pace with Nanami’s footwork while the headache began to bloom behind your eyes.

Twenty seconds.

You weaved through the chaos, heart pounding, and touched his back this time. Another surge. Nanami pivoted instantly, using the amplified power to cleave deep into the curse’s defenses.

Your vision flickered.

The pain was building faster than you expected — a heavy pressure squeezing your skull. You shook your head hard as you dashed to a new position, staying just close enough to reach him when the timer reset. Dust and cursed energy residue stung your eyes, but you didn’t stop moving.

Twenty seconds.

You slid across the concrete, barely avoiding a crashing tentacle, and pressed your hand to his arm mid-strike. The amplification flowed again. Nanami pressed the advantage ruthlessly, but the curse was adapting, growing more frantic and dangerous.

Your head throbbed violently now. Each amplification felt like a hammer driving into your temples. You staggered for half a second, then forced yourself forward again, breathing through gritted teeth.

Twenty seconds.

You ran alongside him, lungs burning, and touched his shoulder once more. The pain spiked so sharply that you bit the inside of your cheek to stay silent.

Not yet.

You weren’t going to slow him down. Not when civilians were at stake. Not when Satoru was waiting for you to come home.

Nanami landed another devastating blow, but even as the battle raged, the pain in your head continued to build. You shook it off again, vision blurring at the edges, and kept moving.

Just a little bit more.

The office was silent, save for the steady ticking of the clock on the wall. Yaga sat rigid at his desk, staring at the phone in his hand

"Damn it" he muttered. The report from Ijichi had arrived only a moment earlier, delivered in a voice strained with panic

The signature is gone, Director. We’ve lost connection. Both of them.

He closed his eyes for a split second, a familiar weight settling in his chest. When she had stood in this very office and asked him to keep Satoru out of it, he had agreed. He had respected her judgment. Respected her right to handle her own battles. Now he wondered if he had simply handed her over to them. Because this was no longer a test.

If they had done what he feared… The thought died there.

Yaga opened his eyes and reached for his phone. For a moment, his thumb hovered over the contact.

There would be no undoing this. Once he made that call, events would begin moving toward a conclusion none of them would be able to stop.

He pressed dial. The line rang once. Twice. Then—

“Yaga?”

“Come back, Satoru.”

The battle dragged on far longer than it should have.

The warehouse had become a graveyard of shattered concrete and twisted steel. Dust and cursed energy hung thick in the air, making every breath feel like swallowing glass. The Special Grade curse refused to die, regenerating with hateful persistence.

Your technique was failing.

What once felt like a steady river of cursed energy now came in weak, stuttering pulses. Maintaining the connection with Nanami grew harder with every passing second. The pounding in your skull had become unbearable. At some point blood had started dripping steadily from your nose, warm and metallic, staining your collar and the back of your hand every time you wiped it away.

Nanami had noticed. Several times his sharp gaze flicked toward you, jaw tight with restrained words. He never spoke them. There was no point. Both of you already understood the cost.

A violent crash rang out as the curse slammed Nanami backward. His shoes carved deep grooves into the concrete floor as he skidded to a stop.

The curse’s energy signature faltered.

There.

A small opening. One single, fleeting chance.

You wiped the blood from your mouth with a trembling sleeve. When had it reached your lips? You couldn’t remember. Your hands felt numb. Your cursed energy felt like it belonged to someone else—distant, fraying at the edges.

Satoru.

His face flashed in your mind — that bright, lazy smile, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world worth slowing down for. The way he’d finally learned to let you stand on your own.

You took a slow, painful breath. Every last fragment of power left in your body gathered beneath your skin.

You thought of his voice whispering “wife” like a prayer. Of the guilt you carried for keeping this from him. Of how much you loved him.

Nanami’s eyes met yours across the wreckage. The moment he realized what you were about to do, his expression fractured.

“No.” The word cracked out of him like a whip. “Don’t—”

You were already moving.

“I’m sorry, Ken” Your hand slammed against his shoulder.

The connection detonated. It wasn’t amplification anymore. It was everything. Every drop of cursed energy, every ounce of strength, every second of endurance you had left surged into Nanami in a single, devastating wave.

The world violently tilted. Sound vanished. Your vision tunneled into white.

The last thing you registered was Nanami moving — faster and sharper than you had ever seen him, his Ratio technique blazing with lethal, absolute precision. A single, perfect strike.

The curse dissolved into nothingness, and for one suspended heartbeat, silence fell over the ruined warehouse.

Nanami turned immediately, and your body hit the concrete before he could catch you.

Satoru sat in the private jet, long legs stretched out across the luxurious leather seat.

Yaga didn’t tell him why he needed to return so urgently. The fact that he called him back so suddenly —even assigning Yuta as backup — set his nerves on edge. If I were something truly serious, he would have said it outright… right?

His phone rested in his hand, thumb hovering over your contact. He wanted to call you, to hear your voice, but the thought of surprising you the moment he landed was even more tempting. He was just minutes away, he could wait.

He exhaled through his nose, leaning back again, letting the idea settle—just for a moment.

Then something felt wrong.

At first, it was just a faint, itching unease at the back of his neck. Then, without warning, your cursed energy signature—the one he had memorized like a second heartbeat—flickered.

He froze.

It flickered again. Weaker.

In a single fluid motion, he ripped the blindfold off. His Six Eyes ignited, flooding his vision with overwhelming clarity that tore through the fuselage as if it weren’t there at all. The pilot nearly jumped out of his seat as the cabin pressure shifted violently, the air around Satoru warping under the weight of his unchecked power.

He reached for you desperately, pushing his senses to their absolute limit across the distance. For a brief moment he caught it — your energy, strained, burning far beyond safe levels. Then it began fading faster.

“No” The word tore from his throat, raw and broken.

He stood up so violently that the seat cracked behind him. Without another word, he teleported out of the moving jet mid-flight, leaving the shocked crew behind in stunned silence.

He reappeared exactly where he had felt the last desperate flare of your cursed energy — right outside Jujutsu High.

Once he was on the ground, everything became worse. Your signature was too weak. What used to be a constant, unmistakable warm light in his world was now nothing more than a fragile, flickering thread. Barely there. Fading in and out like a dying candle. He couldn’t get a clear lock on your exact location.

He stopped thinking in full sentences after that. Reality began to blur at the edges, and memory crashed into him.

Six years ago

"How do you process it?" you asked, pointing to his eyes. "Filtering the flow of cursed energy from everyone… how do you manage to isolate a single signature in the middle of all that noise?"

He had paused, surprised by the clinical nature of your curiosity. He sat beside you, his gaze lingering on your face. "Your energy doesn't feel like noise to me. It’s the only consistent anchor in the static."

"So you're always tracking me?"

"I'm always aware of you," he corrected, his voice dropping into a rare, vulnerable cadence. "I don't have to look for you, Ataru. You’re simply a constant in my field of vision."

He shoved the memory aside, his long legs eating up the distance across the courtyard, white hair whipping wildly behind him. His mind was too chaotic, too frantic. Every time he tried to focus on your energy to pinpoint it, the signal wavered and slipped away like smoke. He was chasing a ghost of you.

He followed the weak pulses instinctively, head snapping left and right, Six Eyes glowing with terrifying intensity. He ran like a man possessed — down the main path, past the training fields, changing direction every time your energy pulsed faintly. Almost animalistic.

Your signal stuttered in his perception, and something his mind betrayed him again

Four years ago

You were standing in front of him, your hands pinning his wrists to the mahogany desk, your eyes burning with a frustration that had finally boiled over. You were tired of the hovering, the shadow of his obsession looming over every mission you accepted.

"You have to stop, Satoru," you said, your voice low and trembling with the weight of the moment. "I'm not a curse you need to track. I'm a sorcerer—besides being your girlfriend."

He had stared up at you, his Infinity humming with a restless, jagged energy, but you hadn't flinched. You leaned in, forcing him to look at the reality he refused to see.

"You can't control everything. You can’t be everywhere at the same time.”

The memory hit him like a physical blow, grounding him for a terrifying second before he launched himself into the main building. He passed through the halls like a man standing at the edge of the abyss. His eyes burned an unnatural, violent blue. The air around him crackled with raw, unstable power. Sorcerers pressed themselves against the walls, terrified to even breathe. His Infinity was flickering uncontrollably, shattering windows and cracking the pavement with every step. He didn’t care.

He was running out of time, and his brain felt like it was splitting in two, flickering between the present panic and the past failures.

One year ago

A mission had gone wrong, and you were bleeding from a shallow cut on your arm, shaking with adrenaline-fueled rage. He had stormed into the room, his aura so dense it made the furniture groan.

"Satoru, you need to calm down," you had said, stepping directly into his personal space, ignoring the way the air warped around him. You grabbed his wrists, forcing his arms down. "You’re going to level the entire complex if you don't breathe."

"They hurt you," he had spat, his voice vibrating with a primal, dangerous heat.

"I'm fine. Look at me. I'm right here, Satoru."

The doors to the medical infirmary exploded inward with a violent bang.

The first thing he saw was blood. Your blood. Dried under your nose, at the corner of your mouth, staining Nanami’s uniform where he stood stiffly by the wall.

Shoko was already there, her face drawn, her hands moving with practiced, frantic speed. “She’s going to be fine” she said flatly without looking up at him. “Don’t interfere.”

The words landed exactly where they were supposed to. Relief came first, and then something else took its place.

The roar in his ears—the frantic, animalistic panic that had fueled his run—suddenly died. It was a transition so seamless it was unnatural. His shoulders dropped. His hands, which had been clenched so tight the skin had split, slowly unfurled.

The chaos of his Infinity stopped flickering. It settled, hummed, and then froze into a terrifying, absolute stillness.

Satoru’s Six Eyes weren't glowing with fury anymore. They were cold. Empty. Like looking into the vacuum of space—devoid of light, emotion, or mercy.

He walked to the bedside, his movements perfectly measured, almost mechanical. He reached out, his fingers hovering just a fraction of an inch above your cheek. He didn't touch you.

"Who?" he asked. His voice was a flat, dead thing.

He turned his head slowly, looking at Nanami, who stood in the corner, his suit ruined, his expression a testament to the horror he had just witnessed. The Grade One sorcerer stiffened, feeling the weight of that gaze. It was the coldest thing he had ever felt—a heavy, suffocating pressure that made the air in the room feel thin.

"It was a trap" Nanami said, his voice strained. "The mission... it was an orchestrated—"

Satoru didn't let him finish. He just nodded once. It was a slow, deliberate motion; a confirmation of a death sentence.

Yaga stood by the doorway, his eyes dark, his hands balled into fists. He watched Satoru, and for the first time in his long career, Yaga felt a primal, shivering fear. He saw it in the way Satoru’s eyes tracked nothing, staring at a future that was already decided.

"Satoru, listen to me," Yaga started, stepping forward. "We need to handle this through the proper channels. If you—"

Satoru finally looked at him.

That single look carried more weight than any outburst. It was the look of a man who had already exited the human world to enter a different one.

"Proper channels?" Satoru repeated. The ghost of a smile touched his lips, but it never reached his eyes. It was a terrifying, hollow expression.

He turned back to you, his eyes softening for a fleeting, heartbreaking second before the frost reclaimed them.

Then he turned on his heel and began to walk toward the exit.

Yaga stepped forward, his jaw tight, his hand half-raised as if to reach out, but he stopped. He looked into Satoru’s eyes—the unshielded, infinite blue that held no recognition of his mentor, only the cold calculation of a judge about to execute a verdict. Yaga’s hand fell to his side, his shoulders slumping. He knew. He had spent his life watching Satoru hold back, but the dam had finally broken, and he knew as well as anyone that there was no force on earth that could stand in the way of this.

Nanami, still braced against the wall, merely looked at Satoru’s back. He saw the way the air shimmered around him, the absolute, lethal focus of a man who just witnessed his worst fear. He didn't move to intercept him. He simply let out a long, weary breath and bowed his head, an unspoken acknowledgment that the hierarchy he served had just signed its own death warrant.

Satoru didn't look back at them. He didn't demand they step aside, because he didn't even acknowledge them as obstacles in the first place.

The decision had already been made.

reblogs are always appreciated!! <3 -> next part coming soon! taglist is open masterlist

#ok this series sucked me in so fast #I’m so upset that it’s not finished yet I need to know the ending like right now #emi’s recs #gojo x reader

kenorie

—not proofread, heavy daddy kink

the apartment is quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of the city filtering through the windows. you're curled up on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling through nothing in particular. your jaw is set, your body language closed off. you're not just sitting here—you're pointedly sitting here, making sure toji knows exactly how pissed off you are.

he stood you up. again.

you'd gotten dressed up for once, traded your usual comfortable fit for something that hugged your curves, did your hair, put on makeup. you'd waited at that restaurant for forty-five minutes like a damn fool before his text came through: got held up at the shop. can't make it.

no apology. no explanation. just that.

so now you're giving him what he deserves: absolutely nothing. not a word, not a glance, not a single acknowledgment of his existence. let him see how it feels to be ignored.

the front door opens with a heavy click, and you don't look up. you hear his boots on the floor, the familiar sound of him dropping his keys on the small table by the entrance. the scent hits you next—motor oil, metal, sweat, that distinctly masculine smell of a man who's spent all day working with his hands. usually, it does something to you. usually, you'd be up and greeting him, asking about his day.

not tonight.

"Y/N."

his voice is low, that lazy drawl that normally makes your stomach flip. you keep your eyes on your phone, thumb scrolling with deliberate casualness.

you hear him move closer, his footsteps slow and measured. he’s standing at the edge of the living room now, and you can feel his eyes on you. the black fitted shirt he wears is probably stained with grease, stretched across his broad shoulders and chest. those worn grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. the scar on his lip probably pulled tight as he frowns.

you don't look. you won't look.

"i know you hear me, girl."

your jaw tightens, but you don't respond. your heart is hammering, but you keep your face neutral, your posture relaxed. you're not giving him the satisfaction.

there's a long pause. you can practically feel his irritation building, mixing with something else—something darker and more dangerous. toji doesn't like being ignored. he doesn't like when you pull away from him, when you assert your independence in ways that challenge his control.

"so that's how it's gonna be?" his voice is closer now. he's moved into the living room, and from your peripheral vision, you can see him standing there, arms crossed over his chest. "you gonna sit there and act like i don't exist?"

you scroll past another post, your expression carefully blank.

"Y/N." there's a warning in his tone now, that edge that says his patience is wearing thin. "look at me."

you don't.

"fuckin' stubborn," he mutters, and you hear him move. the couch dips as he sits down next to you, close enough that his thigh presses against yours. the heat of him, the smell of him, it's overwhelming. your body wants to respond, wants to lean into him like it always does, but you force yourself to stay rigid.

"baby." his voice drops lower, almost coaxing. “come on now. don't be like this."

you turn slightly away from him, angling your body to put more distance between you. it's a small movement, but it speaks volumes.

you hear him exhale, a long breath that sounds almost amused. "aight. i see."

before you can process what's happening, his hand is on your phone, plucking it from your grip with easy strength. you make a sound of protest, reaching for it, but he tosses it onto the coffee table, well out of reach.

"toji—"

"oh, so you can talk." the corner of his mouth quirks up, that scar pulling with the movement. his dark eyes are fixed on you, intense and unyielding. "thought maybe you'd gone mute."

"give me my phone back." your voice is cold, clipped.

"nah. don't think i will." he shifts, turning to face you more fully. his arm stretches along the back of the couch, caging you in. "think we need to have a conversation."

"i don't want to talk to you."

"that right?" he's studying you, taking in your tight expression, the way you're holding yourself away from him. "you mad about last night."

it’s not a question. of course he knows. you don't bother confirming it.

"had a job run long," he says, his tone matter-of-fact. "couldn't leave it half-done."

"you could've called earlier. you could've—" you stop yourself, pressing your lips together. you're not doing this. you’re not going to beg for basic consideration.

"could've what?" he leans in slightly, his voice dropping. "could've dropped everything because you wanted to go out? you know how i am, Y/N. work comes first."

"and i come last, apparently."

something flashes in his eyes—irritation mixed with something else. "don't be dramatic. you know that ain't true."

"do i?" you finally turn to look at him fully, letting him see the hurt beneath the anger. "because from where i'm sitting, it seems like i’m pretty low on your priority list."

his jaw tightens. "watch it."

"or what?" the words come out sharper than you intended, your stubbornness rising to meet his dominance. "you’ll ignore me some more? stand me up again?"

"Y/N." there's a warning in the way he says your name, low and dangerous.

"i’m done with this conversation." you move to stand up, to escape the suffocating proximity of him, but his hand shoots out, gripping your thigh and holding you in place.

"didn't say you could leave."

"let go of me, toji."

"no." his grip tightens, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thigh through your sweatpants. "you're gonna sit here and listen."

"i don't want to—"

"don't care what you want right now." his other hand comes up to your jaw, turning your face toward him with firm pressure. "you're gonna stop this bratty shit and talk to me like an adult."

you try to jerk away from his grip, but he holds firm. "i’m not being bratty. i’m being reasonable. you stood me up, toji. you didn't even apologize."

"you want an apology?" his thumb strokes along your jawline, a gesture that would be tender if not for the steel in his grip. "fine. i'm sorry i missed dinner. but you know how it is. you know what my work is like."

"that's not—" you're frustrated now, the words tumbling out. "it's not about the dinner. it's about the fact that you didn't even seem to care. you sent a text like it was nothing, like i was nothing."

his eyes narrow. "you think you're nothin' to me?"

"i think you take me for granted."

for a moment, he's silent, studying you with that intense gaze that seems to see right through you. then, slowly, his hand slides from your jaw down to your throat, not squeezing, just resting there—a reminder of his presence, his power.

"that what you think?" his voice is soft now, almost dangerous in its quietness. "think i don't appreciate you?"

your breath catches.

"think i don't notice when you get all pretty for me? when you cook my favorite meals, keep this place clean even though i tell you not to?" his thumb strokes along your pulse point, feeling the rapid beat of your heart. "think i don't know exactly what i got?"

"then act like it," you whisper, hating how your voice wavers.

"i do act like it. i take care of you, don't i? keep a roof over your head, make sure you're safe, make sure you're satisfied." his hand slides lower, from your throat to your collarbone, then down to rest on your chest, right above your heart. "just 'cause i missed one dinner doesn't mean i don't value you."

"it wasn't just one—"

"but you're right." he cuts you off, and there's something in his expression now, something almost predatory. "i should've called earlier. should've made more of an effort." his hand moves lower, skimming over your breast through your tight shirt, and you inhale sharply. "so let me make it up to you."

"that's not—" your protest dies as his hand continues its path downward, over your stomach, to the waistband of your sweatpants. "toji, no. I'm still mad at you."

"i know you are." his fingers slip beneath the elastic, and you grab his wrist, trying to stop him. "but your body's tellin' me somethin' different."

"i said no." you try to sound firm, but your voice comes out breathy.

"you sure about that?" he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "cause you're shakin', baby. and not from anger."

"i don't want—"

"liar." his hand pushes past your resistance, sliding into your sweatpants, then beneath your panties. when his fingers make contact with your cunt, you both know the truth. you’re wet. not just a little—you're soaked. "fuck, Y/N. this what 'i don't want' feels like?"

shame and arousal war within you as his fingers explore, sliding through your slickness with practiced ease. you try to close your legs, but his other hand grips your thigh, forcing them apart.

"toji, stop—"

"thought you were ignorin' me." his voice is mocking now, amused. “thought you were so mad you couldn't even look at me. but here you are, pussy drippin' all over my fingers."

"shut up." you're still gripping his wrist, but you're not pulling anymore. you can't. your body has betrayed you completely.

"make me." he finds your clit, circling it with rough fingers, and you gasp. "that’s what i thought. all that attitude, all that silent treatment, and the moment i touch you, you fold."

"i hate you." the words come out as a moan as he increases the pressure, rubbing your clit in firm circles.

"no, you don't." he bites your earlobe, hard enough to sting. "you love this. love when daddy puts you in your place."

the word sends a jolt through you—part embarrassment, part arousal. your hips buck involuntarily as he slides two fingers inside you, stretching you, filling you.

“fuck you.”

"that's the plan, baby." he starts pumping his fingers, slow and deep, his thumb still working your clit. "but first, i’m gonna make you come on my hand. gonna make you scream for me while you're supposed to be givin' me the silent treatment."

you bite your lip, trying to hold back the sounds threatening to escape, but it's useless. he knows your body too well, knows exactly where to touch, how much pressure to apply. his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur, and you can't stop the whimper that escapes.

"there it is." his voice is dark with satisfaction. "there's my girl. knew you couldn't stay quiet."

"toji—" it's half protest, half plea.

"what happened to that attitude, huh?" he's pumping faster now, his fingers making obscene wet sounds as they work in and out of you. "where's all that anger? that stubbornness?"

you can't answer. can't think. your hands have moved from his wrist to his shoulders, gripping him for support as pleasure builds in your core. your hips are moving now, grinding against his hand, chasing the release he's dangling in front of you.

"look at you, fuckin' yourself on my fingers." he sounds almost lazy, like this is easy for him, like he's not affected at all. "so desperate. so needy. and you were tryin' to ignore me."

"please—" the word slips out before you can stop it.

"please what?" his thumb presses hard against your clit, and you cry out. "say it properly. ask daddy nicely."

your face burns with humiliation and need. "toji—"

his fingers slow to an agonizing crawl. "that ain't what i told you to call me."

"i can't—"

"yes, you can." he brings you right to the edge and then backs off, and you whine in frustration. "say it, or i stop right now and leave you like this."

"you wouldn't.”

"try me." his voice is steel. "you wanna be a brat, you can finish yourself off. but if you want me to make you come, you're gonna use your manners and call me what i told you to."

you’re trembling, desperate, your body screaming for release. your pride wars with your need, but need wins. it always does with him.

"please," you gasp out, the word barely a whisper. "please, daddy—"

"can't hear you, baby." he’s mocking you now, enjoying your surrender. "speak up."

"please, daddy!" the words come out louder, desperate. "please don't stop."

"there we go." the satisfaction in his voice is palpable. "atta girl. that's so much better, ain't it? now tell daddy you're sorry for ignorin' him."

"i’m sorry." your voice breaks. "im sorry for ignoring you, daddy."

"good fuckin' girl." he rewards you by resuming his movements, faster now, harder, his fingers curling to hit that perfect spot with every thrust. "now come for daddy. come all over my fingers like the good girl you are."

it doesn't take long. the combination of his fingers inside you, his thumb on your clit, his voice in your ear—it's too much. your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, stealing your breath, making your body convulse. you cry out, loud and unrestrained, your nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure overwhelms you.

"that's it," he murmurs, working you through it. "that's my girl. so fuckin' pretty when you come."

you're still shaking, still coming down from the high, when he withdraws his fingers. you watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a satisfied hum.

"delicious," he says, his eyes locked on yours. "but we ain't done yet."

before you can process his words, he's moving. his hands grip your hips, and he flips you over with easy strength, positioning you on your hands and knees on the couch. your sweatpants and panties are yanked down to your thighs, exposing you to the cool air of the apartment.

"toji, wait—"

"nah. you've made me wait long enough." you hear the rustle of fabric as he pushes his sweatpants down. "been thinkin' about this all day. thinkin' about comin' home and buryin' myself in this pussy. then you wanna give me attitude?"

you feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and despite the orgasm you just had, your body responds immediately, clenching with anticipation.

"you're gonna take all of me," he says, his voice rough. "gonna take every inch and thank me for it."

he pushes in without warning, one hard thrust that seats him fully inside you. you cry out at the stretch, the fullness, the slight burn of being taken so quickly. he's big—thick and long—and even wet as you are, it's almost too much.

"fuck," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "tight as always. this pussy was made for me, wasn't it?"

you can't answer. can barely breathe. he's so deep, filling you completely, and when he pulls back and thrusts in again, you see stars.

"answer me." he punctuates the command with another hard thrust. "who does this pussy belong to?"

"you!" The word is torn from you. "it belongs to you!"

"that ain't what i wanna hear." he slows his pace deliberately, making you whimper. "try again. who do you belong to?"

your face burns, but your body is screaming for him to move faster, harder. "daddy," you gasp out. "i belong to daddy."

"there's my good fuckin' girl." the satisfaction in his voice is palpable, and he rewards you by setting a brutal pace, fucking into you with deep, powerful strokes that rock your entire body. the couch creaks beneath you, and you have to brace yourself against the armrest to keep from being pushed forward. "this is mine. you're mine. don't care how mad you get, that don't change."

each thrust drives the point home, literally and figuratively. you're moaning now, unable to hold back the sounds as he takes you roughly, possessively. your fingers grip the couch cushions, your back arching to take him deeper.

"that's it," he growls. "take it. take all of daddy's cock."

his hand comes down on your ass, a sharp slap that makes you yelp. the sting blooms into heat, adding to the overwhelming sensations.

"you look so good like this," he continues, his voice strained now, losing some of that lazy control. "all spread out for me, takin' my cock like you were made for it. and you were gonna ignore me? gonna act like you don't need daddy to fuck you like this?"

"i—ah—i do need it," you admit, shame and arousal mixing into something intoxicating. "need you, daddy."

"i know you do, baby." his hand slides up your spine, then fists in your hair—he grips it firmly, pulling your head back. "i know you need daddy to fuck you like this. need me to remind you who you belong to."

the new angle has him hitting even deeper, and you feel another orgasm building, impossibly soon after the first. your walls clench around him, and he groans.

"fuck, you're close again already, ain't you?" he sounds smug, satisfied. "greedy little thing. one ain't enough?"

"please—" you're begging now, all pretense of resistance gone. "please, daddy, i need—"

"what do you need? say it properly."

"need you to make me come!" the words spill out desperately. "need daddy to make me come again!"

"that's better." he releases your hair, and both hands grip your hips again, holding you steady as he pounds into you. "who makes you feel this good, huh? who's the only one who can fuck you like this?"

"you do!" you're sobbing now, overwhelmed by sensation. "daddy does! only daddy!"

"damn right." his thrusts become even harder, more possessive. "this body is mine. this pussy is mine. you're mine. say it."

"i’m yours, daddy!" you're so close, teetering on the edge. "i'm all yours!"

"then come for daddy." it's a command, delivered in that authoritative tone that goes straight to your core. "come on my cock right now."

your body obeys before your mind can catch up. your second orgasm hits you like a freight train, stronger than the first, making your arms give out. you collapse forward onto the couch, your face pressed into the cushions as you scream your release, his name—his title—falling from your lips like a prayer. "daddy, daddy, daddy—"

your cunt clenches rhythmically around him, trying to pull him deeper, and you hear him curse.

"fuck, that's it, milk daddy's cock—" his rhythm falters, becoming erratic. "such a good girl for me. gonna fill you up, baby. gonna pump you full of daddy's cum."

he thrusts deep one last time and holds there, and you feel him pulsing inside you, filling you with his release. his grip on your hips is almost painful, holding you in place as he empties himself into you with a low groan.

for a long moment, neither of you moves. you're both breathing hard, your bodies slick with sweat. you can feel him softening inside you, feel the mixture of your releases starting to leak out.

slowly, carefully, he pulls out. you whimper at the loss, feeling suddenly empty. he tucks himself back into his sweatpants, then gently pulls your panties and sweatpants back up, his touch surprisingly tender after the roughness of moments before.

"come here." his voice is softer now, that lazy drawl back in full force.

you don't have the energy to resist. he helps you turn over, then pulls you into his lap, cradling you against his chest. you can hear his heartbeat, still elevated, gradually slowing. his hand strokes your back in soothing circles.

"you good?" he asks after a moment.

you nod against his chest, not trusting your voice yet.

"look at me, baby."

reluctantly, you lift your head. his dark eyes are softer now, some of that intensity faded into satisfaction and something that might be affection.

"i am sorry," he says, and this time it sounds genuine. "about last night. should've handled it better."

you study his face, looking for sincerity, and find it in the slight downturn of his scarred mouth, the way he's looking at you.

"okay," you whisper.

"but don't pull that ignorin' shit again." the warning is back in his voice, though it's tempered with amusement. "you got somethin' to say to me, you say it. don't make me drag it out of you."

"you're one to talk about communication," you point out, some of your spirit returning.

his mouth quirks up. "fair enough. we'll both work on it."

it’s probably the closest thing to a compromise you'll get from him, and honestly, after what just happened, you're too wrung out to push for more.

"you're still an asshole," you mutter, but there's no heat in it.

"yeah, but i'm your asshole." he presses a kiss to your forehead, surprisingly gentle. "and you're my stubborn, beautiful girl who drives me fuckin' crazy."

despite everything, you feel a smile tugging at your lips. "you drive me crazy too."

"i know." he sounds entirely too pleased with himself. "but you love it."

you do. god help you, you do.

you settle back against his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothe you. his hand continues its path up and down your back, and you feel the tension that's been coiled in your body for the past day finally start to release.

"next time," you say quietly, "just call me earlier. that's all i ask."

"i can do that." his arms tighten around you slightly. "and next time you're pissed at me, use your words instead of givin' me the silent treatment. deal?"

“deal”

you sit there together in the quiet apartment, the city sounds filtering in through the windows, the smell of motor oil and sex and home surrounding you. it's not perfect—nothing with toji ever is. he's too dominating, too set in his ways, and you're too stubborn, too independent. you clash and fight and drive each other crazy.

but moments like this, when the fighting is done and it's just the two of you, when his rough hands are gentle and his gruff voice is soft—these moments make it worth it.

#I love and hate Toji in this tbh #emi’s recs #Toji x reader

rezijellyfish

Oh👀

fireladylisa

— the arrangement masterlist ∬ ֗ ₊

ა ˙˖ summary → there’s no one you hate more than satoru gojo. he’s arrogant and entirely too full of himself. when you agree to be strictly enemies with benefits, gojo takes this as the perfect opportunity to finally make you his.

⤳ warnings: this mini series will feature adult content and is not recommended to anyone under the age of 18

intro

❦ chapter one: the fuck buddy proposal

❦ chapter two: you're not my type!

❦ chapter three: the conclusion

꒰ I've already got a taglist going but you can also sign up for tags here! under others just type in: the arrangement series ꒱

⤳ series tags 1: @rhaewinsdaughter @timgiohlover1767 @kissprl @lunevarin @keiito066 @pinkpantherrrrss @lounastar @luvs-angel @luvbambiboo @scramblenigojo @nationalmegumidihhopper @5secondsofdorkss-blog @sadteam666 @alittlekurumi @lovebythuuu @rinnyho @user09815 @setia1256 @weirdothatwrites @kingjuliancypher @espresshoe012 @miwarumi @pinkpantherrrrss @ioveariaa @ibelieveintrafalgarlawsupremacy @asiitwas @iilovechoso123 @slovair @izumkay @megottheswaskikacooooke @introvertedfreakk @skeletaldynamolegion @nctwayv127dream @0soleilmist @bambi-lia @thecoolest4eva @yujiswifey @angelziez @valkyrieanqel @fzvcfjky @roroclarinett @billiondollarworth @coolprincessgirls-blog @mariaaliyha @secretsofchance @yeagerluvr @suguruuslut @wiserion @nemisimp @yochicoz

#WE LOVE A GOOD ENEMIES TO LOVERS #tbr!!!#emi’s recs #gojo x reader

sukunahs

cover my eyes | ryomen sukuna

pairing: sukuna x blind courtesan!reader

summary: once in a lifetime you'll switch bodies with your soulmate and see the world through their eyes.

sukuna is initially frustrated when he's plunged into darkness in the body of a weak and blind woman, only to discover that there's more to her than he was expecting, leaving him on a mission to locate the shogi-playing courtesan whose soul called out to his.

word count: 11k

content: 18+ mdni, smut, soulmate au, heian era, initially rude sukuna, soft!sukuna, true form sukuna, courtesan reader, sickness, blindness, depiction of violence and death, happy ending, hurt/comfort, honestly its mainly fluff, devoted sukuna, piv, cunnilingus

a/n: after doing my satoru soulmate au i desperately wanted to do one for sukuna so here it is! inspired somewhat by komugi and meruem in hxh and ALSO by lakan and fengxian in apothecary diaries (as someone requested that from me!)

At one point in every person’s life, they will awaken in the body of another.

They will spend their day seeing through strange eyes, living out hours as a person they may have never met, trapped within their new form until sleep takes them and they are released back into their own body.

Those meagre hours are the only chance a person will have to find their other other half, to learn all they can about the body they’ve awoken in. There’s no second chance, no opportunity to swap for a second time.

If one cannot locate their soulmate after the day they’ve spent as them, they can find no further help. All they can hope for, is that they might stumble across their destined lover by mere chance one day.

Or, that their beloved did a better job than they did at piecing together the puzzle.

#haven’t been very active lately reblogging posts im interested in cause ive been so tired so im gonna try to change that!#tbr!!#emi’s recs #sukuna x reader

vhen-harel

belimah

art by kryzpepin

feyrinnn

my love mine all mine sukuna x f!reader x gojo

୧ synopsis it's not easy, falling in love with someone who is still getting over someone else. sukuna learned to be patient for you, but as his affection for you grows, so does his hatred for the man who made you so scared of love in the first place.

୧ wc 3.9k

୧ content mdni, angst, smut, some fluff too, hurt/comfort, sukuna pov, falling in love, very anxious reader, jealousy, post reader and gojo breakup, sex on the first night, protected piv sex, overstimulation, making out, biting, a little bit of a breeding kink, crying after sex, and a lot of crying in general, aftercare, moving on, posesssive sukuna

୧ a/n this is sukuna's pov of the story, you can find the other parts in this collection! this can be read as part 3 or as a oneshot too. art by @/riyalise & divider by @/diviniyae

"Who is that?"

Sukuna himself was surprised to hear the words leave his lips, but he couldn't help the curiosity.

He found himself sitting on an uncomfortable stool in someone's house party he somehow got convinced to attend, surrounded by the same boring faces as always – until he noticed a new one.

A new girl, sitting on a sofa far ahead, involved in the party but… not really. You had a tight hold on your phone, and you glanced at the screen every few seconds like you were waiting for a message that never came.

It made Sukuna anxious just watching it.

And right now watching was exactly what he was doing.

It wasn't just the fact your face had made his heart skip an awkward beat inside his chest when you walked past, not even noticing him. Nor was it the fact you seemed to prefer sitting alone rather than engaging with the rest of the party, something he could relate to well enough.

No, there was something else about you too. You just seemed so… sad.

#I somehow still sobbed all the way through this part too #emi’s recs #sukuna x reader #gojo x reader #can I pls have a Sukuna x reader happy ending tali #like where they get married and she knows she’s safe 😭

feyrinnn

baby, come back to me ex!gojo x f!reader x sukuna

❝ satoru gojo broke your heart three years ago by ending your relationship. and then he broke it again and again and again by not being able to let you go – maybe this time you're the one that has had enough❞

wc 3.9k content angst, satoru pov, hurt no comfort, sad ending, anxiety, sukuna is here, break up talk, fear of death, suguru being a good friend, post-break up, arguments, reader moves on but satoru can’t, for everyone that wanted to see satoru suffer i hope you’re happy, i cried writing this, honestly this is bleak again a/n this is part 2 to if i didn't love you but can also be read as a oneshot

Was it raining?

Water streaked down Satoru's face, drip dripping down his chin all the way down to the collar of his nice white shirt – making all that effort to have it perfectly pressed futile now that it was soaked with this unrelenting waterfall.

His father's words were already ringing in his ears. A Gojo is always supposed to present as strong, powerful, in control.

Satoru didn't quite feel like any of that right now, though.

When the hell did it start raining?

It was constant, overwhelming, like the sky had suddenly opened up and decided to soak him specifically.

But there were no clouds above, he noticed. Nothing but clear blue skies to completely contrast the storm he felt inside.

So he brought a hand to his face, touching the fresh water that seemed to be coming from his eyes instead.

Huh, he muttered in surprise.

Satoru didn't remember when he started crying.

#I CAN’T DO THIS IT’S MIDNIGHT AND I AM PREGNANT AND SOBBING #THIS HURT SO GOOD #emi’s recs #gojo x reader #sukuna x reader

mewnbuns

men who can’t ever wait to fully undress you before fucking you, always semi-clothed and messy, skirts flipped up and shirts stretched at the neckline and pants around their ankles

men who’s favourite part is getting to strip you completely bare beneath them, always making sure they make time to be able to worship you in your nakedness— peeling back each layer and appreciating the newly exposed skin with a kiss and a caress

#my husband can be both and that’s how I ended up pregnant #emi yaps

claudialynq

Sukuna with the "challengers" trend!!

#hot #i want to lick him

rezijellyfish

👀

#i love him your honor

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