rosalietodd013

[rosalietodd013]

"Stop moving."

You groan, trying to sit up when you find yourself weighed down by two large arms wrapped around you. You trying to pry Sukuna's arms off of you, but to no avail. "S'kuna, let me go."

He doesn't even give you the privilege of an answer, simply tightening his grip around your middle. Sukunas lips find your neck, warm as he takes a bite of your throat.

"Ah, ah, no! 'm still sore!" You attempt to wriggle away tilting your head to hide your poor nape from any more of his marks. He doesn't relent, but he does release his mouth from you before slowly peppering kisses along your neck and shoulder blade. He does so with an annoyed huff, but hes noticeably more gentle. Unhurried.

"Your covered in marks, brat." He grumbles before giving a dark-colored hickey a slow lick. "Where else am I supposed to kiss you?"

"How about my lips?"

Sukunas eyes flicker up to you, raising his head from your neck.

"I mean- they are sore but not as much as the rest of m-" His lips are on your own before you could finish, and you couldn't do anything but sigh into his mouth. You close your eyes, gently wrapping your arms around his neck.

He seems satisfied at this, judging by how he nips at your lips without drawing blood this time, and pushes his tongue into your mouth.

You feel him shift his position, pulling you closer and laying some of his weight on you.

When he pulls away, theres a smirk on his face as he licks his lips. Crimson eyes full of want.

"We should go for another rou-"

"Absolutely not."

[rosalietodd013]

Aftercare with gojo after him being mean and rough to reader🙏🏻🙏🏻

𓂃୨ৎ mdni. degradation mentioned, aftercare, soft gojo

your body’s still trembling, sheets tangled around your legs, skin slick with sweat. satoru’s been so mean tonight. hips snapping hard, his words sharp and mean, calling you his little slut, his toy, while he fucked you into the mattress. every thrust left you gasping, his cock stretching you past your limits, leaving you raw and aching between your thighs.

you always wondered how he did that tho—going from being mean and fucking you so hard to being so soft afterwards.

“you okay, pretty girl?” he murmurs, voice low, blue eyes searching yours. he’s hovering over you, one hand brushing damp hair from your face. you nod, too fucked out to speak, and he frowns, leaning down to kiss your forehead, lips lingering. “shit, i went hard, didn’t i? c’mere.”

he pulls you into his chest, arms tight, and carries you to the bathroom, your legs useless. he sets you on the counter, running warm water, grabbing a cloth. “hold still,” he says, wiping the mess between your thighs, gentle around your sensitive pussy. “did so good for me,” he mutters, kissing your cheek. he cleans you slowly, hands tender, like you’re fragile glass.

his arms wrap around you, pulling you close, chin on your shoulder. “love you,” he says, nuzzling your neck, fingers massaging your sore hips. later, wrapped in a fluffy towel, he carries you to bed, tucking you under blankets. “no moving,” he teases, kissing your forehead.

the next days he’s basically your shadow—carrying you to the kitchen when you’re hungry, smirking, “legs still sore, or not?” you roll your eyes, but let him baby you, his soft kisses and warm hugs making the ache worth it.

[rosalietodd013]

Aftercare With Satoru

cw- smut, overstim, just headcanons of my pookie

There are two sides to Satoru Gojo's aftercare - one, so sweet, brushing your hair, making sure you're hydrated, running a hot bath for how sore you get when he beats your pretty pussy up. You see that smirk on his pouty lips when he does so, when he cooes in your ear, how much he loves you, washing your body so tenderly like he didn't just wreck your uterus.

Then there's the other side of Satoru Gojo's aftercare - the thorough cleaning as he laps up your cunt with his long pink tongue, hungrily drinking his own cum right out of the hole he has puffy and abused. He relishes in how you twitch under him, huge hands pinning your hips down to the bed, you're hiccuping and crying, god your tears just make his cock hard all over again.

'Toru - ah! S-sensitive!' you'll whine out, tugging at his silky white locks to the point it hurts him so good, and he'll grin fucking psychotically at you, under his snowy white lashes, blue eyes dilated and almost black. 'aww, too much? can't take it?' he'll taunt you then, as you whine out, nodding, earning his conceited chuckle.

A man who makes sure your hair is conditioned, blow dried, and your face gets a million kisses, is then moaning on your twitchy, overstimulated clit as he watches the mix of his pearly white cum and yours swirl out - making you gasp his name - 'Satoru!'

'You can take more f'me, can't you sweetheart?' he taunts softly, groaning against you, you nod eagerly - and he'll whisper 'good girl' as he fingers his cum back inside your sore walls, drinking up the rest of the mix of you two as you cum for him again.

Then, like two people in one giant six foot four man, he'll be back to pressing sweet kisses on your head, braiding your hair into something adorable and chuckling. He'll be massaging your sore thighs, like he did not just have you overstimulated to tears, like he didn't have you dragging down his huge cock, burying it against your cervix.

His aftercare has fucking aftercare.

Just bc I'm obsessed with LADS rn doesn't mean I don't love my pookie hehe

[rosalietodd013]

I am fully convinced Raph is quite literally just Jason Todd as a mutant turtle.This man is just way too eager to run a fade with anyone😭.

[rosalietodd013]

he’s clingy when you ride him ♡

your boyfriend gets pretty clingy when you’re on his lap, bouncing up and down on his cock. he’s unlike those guys who prefer to lean back, arms behind their head as they watch their lover do all the work. instead, he prefers to wrap his arms around your waist, holding your body close against his, just so he can feel the way you’re shaking from how good it feels.

“feels good?” he murmurs. he’s not exactly asking, since he already knows the answer. he can feel it just from the way your body keeps tightening around him, clenching with every slow bounce, alongside that dumb, fucked out expression you have on your face. “so warm around me, baby… keep going, yeah? jus’ like that…”

your thighs are trembling, struggling to keep up with the rhythm, but it doesn’t matter, not with the way he’s whispering things to you right against your ear, causing you to collapse onto his chest as you desperately try to lift yourself up and down. he’s not even thrusting up, just holding you there and letting you use him to your heart’s content.

“mm—‘s too much,” you whimper into his shoulder, burying your face there as your pace falters. but his hands slide to your hips, guiding them again. “no it’s not,” he mumbles, lips brushing your ear. “you can take it. you always do. look how good you’re doing for me.”

when you let out another shaky moan and sink fully onto him, he hugs you tighter, arms locked around you like he needs you to breathe. he loves this position, because he gets to be so close to you, never having to let go.

"stay right here," he sighs, burying his nose in your hair, breath ragged. "don’t go anywhere… not till i finish inside you, ‘kay?"

for this req

[rosalietodd013]

satoru gojo is the firmest believer in “happy wife, happy life.” the most unshakable. the hottest. he could be waist-deep in an existential crisis and still be like, “well. as long as my wifey is smiling.”

it’s a religion to him. a sacred vow. a life mission. if you're happy, he's happy. if you're not? well. nothing on this planet will know peace until you are.

it doesn't matter how unreasonable you are being. you want boba at 3 a.m.? he is up, wallet in hand, calling every store in the prefecture and weighing the pros and cons of teleporting to tokyo. you suddenly decide you want to switch meals at the restaurant, even though he was craving what he ordered? done. he'll swap with a smile. even offer you a bite like it was his idea all along. you want the pink cup and not the blue one even though they’re literally identical? absolutely. he will throw the blue one in the garbage. permanently banned.

and if you’re being a little difficult on purpose? poking the bear just to see him pout? he eats it up. you roll your eyes and mutter, “i'm not talking to you,” and he gasps like he’s been stabbed, clutching his chest like a drama queen. “my wife is ignoring me?? my sweet angel? the love of my life?? what did i do?”

(he knows what he did. he laughed when you tripped up the stairs. it was objectively funny. he paid the price.)

he brings peace offerings. your favorite snack. your favorite drink. kisses your forehead and goes, “is it working? are you smiling yet? do i get wife points?” he's literally whining because you're not looking at him. even worse if you are but you're doing the squinty eye thing. the judgmental one. he melts.

satoru will cancel meetings, skip training, straight up dodge calls from the higher-ups if you so much as pout. if you say, “toru, you're pissing me off, stop doing that,” he smiles like he just got a love letter. if you say, “i don't feel like cooking,” he's already tying an apron around his waist and muttering, “say less, princess.”

he doesn’t care if anyone calls him whipped. he knows he is. proudly. happily. he wants to be whipped. he wants to be the poster boy for “husband of the year” with a little sticker that says “will do anything for kisses.”

because at the end of the day, nothing—literally nothing—makes him feel stronger, happier, or more invincible than seeing you spoiled, smiling, and just a little smug about it.

(you should be. he raised the standard.)

[rosalietodd013]

Hc that Satoru likes to kiss the bulge on your stomach from Sugurus cock being inside of you

[rosalietodd013]

HEEELLLOOO THIS IS MY FIRST TIME REQUESTING. Can you make nsfw a jealous sylus punishing the reader in the bed. Choking her in his big c*ck hehe. I'm curious how sylus punishing s/o in the bed. Free to ignore this if you don't want this request. but if you want to make it 😻😻 heheh😻......Thaaank youuuu... (Sorry for grammar mistakes)

you were curled on the couch, legs draped over his lap, scrolling your phone with that smug little smile you knew would get you in trouble. “seriously, sylus,” you’d huffed earlier, playfully pushing his hand off your thigh, “you’re all bark lately. but no bite.”

he’d raised an eyebrow and said nothing. just leaned back, expression unreadable, but his jaw ticked. once.

“thought you were supposed to be dangerous,” you’d whispered in his ear with a giggle. “guess they overhyped you, huh?”

that was it.

now your knees were digging into the carpet, eyes watering, throat burning and sylus was watching you like a king punishing his favorite plaything.

“yeah?” he rasped, one hand buried in your hair, the other guiding his cock deeper between your lips. “still think i’m all bark and no bite, princess?”

you tried to respond, tried to pull back, but his grip tightened, and he shoved forward, hard. you choked around him, drool spilling past your lips. eyes fluttering, fingers clawing at his thighs, to hold on.

“you run that mouth all fucking day,” he growled lowly. “and now look at you. can’t say a word.”

you gagged again as his hips rolled forward, the fat head of his cock nudging the back of your throat. you couldn’t breathe, but you didn’t care. the way he grunted under his breath, the way his thighs tensed, was pure erotic cinema.

“look at you,” he muttered, hand cradling your jaw, tilting your head up so he could watch your wrecked expression. “so pretty like this. full of me. crying on my cock.”

you whimpered, tears streaking your cheeks as he fucked into your throat roughly and controlled. exactly the way he wanted it.

“you gonna behave now?” he asked. “or do i need to fuck the rest of the attitude out of you?”

you moaned around him desperately and clenched your thighs together. he pulled out enough to let you suck in a gasp, but not long enough to answer. because you didn’t need to. your mouth was already wide open again, begging with your tongue out.

sylus smiled dangerously. “thought so, angel. now take it.”

your throat was raw. eyes swollen. mouth dripping. he’d used you until you broke, until your pride cracked and all that bratty mouth of yours could do was whimper around his cock. you were still catching your breath when he scooped you up effortlessly and carried you to the bed.

“i’m not done with you yet, angel,” he whispered full of promises and sin.

you blinked at him, dazed. “sylus…”

he was already undressing you… no, he was ripping the clothes from your body, until you were nothing, but flushed skin and slick between your thighs. you reached for him. “i’m sorry, i—”

he climbed over you, caging your body beneath his. “too late for that.”

and then he folded you, legs up and knees pinned to your chest. his big hands holding your thighs wide apart, keeping you completely open for him.

the mating press.

you gasped, eyes flying wide as he pushed in deep. too deep.

your back arched off the mattress with a cry. “f-fuck! sylus—!”

“yeah?” he grunted, voice thick with arousal. “that too much for you now, baby? you were sure running your mouth earlier. what happened?”

you moaned helplessly. he thrust again, cruelly deep, until your cunt clenched around him like it didn’t know whether to run or beg for more. you clawed at his arms. “i—i can’t—”

“you will,” he growled, picking up the pace. “you want to act like a brat? then i’ll fuck you like one. ruin you so good you forget your own name.”

and he did. every thrust slammed into your sweet spot, deep and brutal. his pelvis flush against yours, his cock thick and relentless inside you.

you babbled his name, tears slipping from your lashes. “sylus, i—fuck, i feel so—full—”

“that’s ‘cause you are,” he rasped against your neck, biting down softly. “taking me so well. so fuckin’ good for me now.”

you tried to talk, but all that came out was broken sounds—whimpers, breathless cries, nonsense. and sylus loved it.

“aw,” he cooed darkly, hips snapping harder. “my perfect little brat finally shut up. look at you. dumb on my cock. you gonna come for me like this?”

you nodded fast, desperate for release. “please—need you—need to come—need you so bad—”

“you got me,” he whispered, thumb brushing your cheek as he ruined your body. “you always got me.”

he kissed you sloppily and possessive, and came inside you, cock twitching as your walls squeezed around him. you shattered under him, crying out as your orgasm rocked through you, wave after wave crashing down.

when it was over, he didn’t pull out. he stayed buried deep, holding you soft and close, stroking your hair like you hadn’t just been manhandled into oblivion.

“you okay, baby?” he murmured against your temple.

you nodded, barely conscious, face flushed and dewy. “i—i think you broke me.”

he chuckled, kissing your jaw. “serves you right.” he paused shortly and added, softly, “still my bratty good girl, though.”

I hope you enjoyed this 🫶🏼

�� oh i just noticed you wrote jealous and i went for bratty… guess i have to write a jealous!sylus next. i apologize anon. please don’t be mad ☹️

[rosalietodd013]

Draconic Reunion 🐦‍⬛ Sylus x Reincarnated!Non MC!Reader

'I can never forget that presence- nor the pain and guilt I felt as I heard your last roar as I soared away with her. I lived a lifetime with her, yet the ghost of you forever haunts my nightmares, your smiles long forgotten- all but the way you sacrificed yourself so we could live.. so we could love. Little dragon, are you still inside her today? Are you still yearning to be loved the way you should be? Don't worry, I am here now- I've learned and matured these years. Let's finally fulfill our promise to one another to be together as mates. My heart, full and so is my soul, the greed of a dragon never ends, then again you should know that... After all, we are the same.' - Sylus

[rosalietodd013]

Complication Sylus x Non!MC reader pt.4

A/N: hey yall I’m back!!! It’s been a crazy month honestly. I’ve been working my ass off, I got a new dog and he’s bad asf, and moving in is just sooo stressful. Also this damn dog chewed up fuckibg MacBook charger so I don’t have a laptop until I get another one, i hate writing on my phone that’s why this chapter is so short. But here’s part 4 for yall!! Yk I think I spelt Kieran’s name wrong the entire time…

Synopsis: You thought you would be able to get away from him, but it’s never that easy.

Word count: 1420

CW: emotional manipulation, stalking, threats of violence

Zayne had left early that morning as he had to be at the hospital for surgery. He kissed you gently on the forehead and smiled “Text me if you need anything, I'll get back to you as soon as I can” he said before leaving. When he left all, you could think about was the phone call from Sylus that you got the night before. His words haunted you as you knew what he was capable of when he wanted something. What you didn't get is why he still thought he deserved you let alone was entitled to you when he clearly was infatuated with her.  You got up and started to pack your things realizing if you were going to stay in Linkon, you had to get somewhere where he didn't know where you were.  

That was easier said than done, considering the fact you knew no one in Linkon besides Zayne and....him. He was a regular at the lounge, usually coming in there alone looking for information. N109 was an information hub after all and there was no better place to get good reliable information than the lounge run by Onychinus themselves. You had a habit of getting close to regulars who were cute and seemed reliable. You went and picked your shattered phone up off the floor hoping and praying it would come on. It did turn on, so you dialed his number putting it on speaker, so you didn't hold the broken glass on your ear; it rang for a long time before a soft groggy voice answered with a hello. “Hey, Xavier! This is [name], I'm in Linkon and needed help with a thing or two” He lets out a soft sigh and you can hear him shift around in his bed. “Yea what is it” he says his voice calm and deep.  

You explained to him the situation, well not all of it, but enough for him to get the idea. He lets out a soft chuckle “sounds like quite the predicament, but yea you can stay for as long as you need” You thank him and hang up the phone, it dings a second later with the address. It didn't take you long to gather your things considering that most of it was already in a suitcase. You hurriedly checked out of the hotel, checking over your shoulder every second in fear of Sylus being right behind you. You felt like someone was watching you but every time you looked to see there was no one. You entered your taxi quickly, making sure that the number on the license plate matched the one you booked. You couldn't take any chances with a man like Sylus. He had so many people in his pocket that you felt as if you couldn't trust anyone.  

The ride to Xaviers place from the hotel was quicker than you expected. Linkon was a big city, so you didn't expect him to live close to where you were at all. You thanked the taxi driver, giving him a tip as he helped you get your bag and then made your way to his building, clicking the third floor in the elevator to his floor. You found the apartment ‘305’ and composed yourself before you knocked on the door. It opened after a moment showing a groggy and shirtless Xavier, lose sweatpants hanging off his hips and that ever so neutral look on his face. You smile at him, “sorry didn't mean to wake you” he shrugs moving to grab your suitcase lifting the heavy thing effortlessly. “Its fine, I just didn't expect you so soon” he says his voice calm and deeper then normal. You chalked it up to him just waking and followed him inside.  

His apartment was cozier than you expected. The neutral tones of tan and white offsite by the vast amount of lush green plants was surprising. The walls were lined with books, vinyl's, and more plotted plants. “You really have a green thumb don't you” you say with a smile “sorry to barge in like this” you say apologize again. He doesn't say anything but just walks over to you holding two cups of coffee and hands one to you. You thanked him, taking a sip, it was sweeter than you expected.  He just nods and sits next to you. He took a slow sip of his coffee, eyes dragging over you, not with hunger like you were used to, but curiosity. You’d always been a bit of a mystery to him in the lounge. Friendly, flirty, but distant. Now here you were, cracked and worn at the edges. “Are you okay” he says in his usual tone. You hesitate for a moment and then nod putting the cup on the coffee table. “Yea, I'm just a little tired, didn't get much sleep last night” he stares at you for a second before once again nodding. You forgot just how quiet he could be sometimes.  

You two sat in silence for a while, sipping on the hot drinks. He finally speaks up, “You’re running from him, right?” he asks looking at you. Your breath hitches and you look away suddenly feeling uncomfortable. How could he know that it was Sylus. “I don't know who you’re talking about” you say feigning ignorance. He lets out a small scoff “You work for Onychinus even if it is only at a bar; The only person that could have you this afraid is him” he says his voice now taking on a different tone “if you're in danger you need to let me know, I can make sure you're safe” his hand finds its way to your arm and gives it a soft reassuring squeeze. You still refused to look at him, afraid he would see right through you. You shrugged his hand off and pull your knees up to your chest trying to comfort yourself. “I really don’t want to talk about it honestly” you say looking away.

Xavier didn’t push. He just sat there beside you, the noises of the city filtering in through his slightly cracked windows making it not completely silent. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was heavy with everything you weren’t ready to say. Youb finally sighed, “is there somewhere i can smoke?” you ask him with a sigh after a while. He looks at you his eyebrow raised, “you smoke? I never seen you do that at the lounge.” you let out a laugh at this “it's because at the lounge I have to keep up appearances?” He lets out a small laugh, the sound soft and refreshing, “Sure just go out of that door out to the patio, try not to burn any of the plants” You rise from the couch and go out to the patio. The patio was beautiful, covered in big, beautiful plants of all colors. You leaned against the railing and lit up your cigarette, finally feeling a sense of relief as the nicotine stick filled your lungs.  

You were enjoying your cigarette when a giant crow landed right next to you where you were on the railing. It scares the shit out of you causing you to let out a scream. The bird didn't move, just stood staring at you as you screamed in fear at the giant thing. It didn't look natural, its eyes were red, and it had this almost metallic gleam to it as if all of it wasnt fully a bird. Xavier came running out of the apartment at lighting speed, looking around for the threat. He was a bit disappointed to see a giant bird sitting on the railing instead of an actual threat. The bird observed him for a moment before taking off into flight silently.

The cigarette fell out of your hands; they were shaking uncontrollably. Xavier stepped beside you, observing the space around you. “That wasnt just a bird” he says his tone taking a serious tone. You nod your head in agreement. It was clear that thing was sent here. That would mean that he found you faster than you expected. “Xavier, I have to go. Its not safe here anymore” you say panic rising in you. You turn quickly from him and start walking back into the apartment. He follows you, catching your arm once you were both fully inside. He turns you around to face him, the neutral look he always had now replaced with one of genuine concern. “You’re not going anywhere. Obviously, he's looking for you. I can protect you, I promise.”  

He convinced you to stay, the promise of his protection being enough to win you over, but nothing could ease the fear and anxiety you felt. You had never done anything like this before with Sylus, so the thought of what he would do terrified you. You knew he would never physically do anything to hurt you but you were still afraid. You sat on the couch, nervously picking at your nails. The nails that were once groomed to perfection yesterday were chipped, some even broken off, from all the anxiety induced biting you did to them over the past hours not even realizing. Your phone buzzed beside you; you almost didn't pick it up fearing it was Sylus but was confused to see an unknown number calling. You looked over to Xavier who had somehow fallen asleep next to you.  

You answer the phone a little confused, “hello?” you say cautiously. It was a moment of silence before the person spoke up. “So you are trying to hide from me” his deep voice says. There was a sense of playfulness imbued within the statement. You tense up not wanting to say anything. “This is unlike you, to be testing me in such a way. I would find it irritating if you weren't making this so fun” he says in his usual calm voice, you could almost hear the smile that was on his face. “I'm not hiding” you lie, the words sounding unbelievable even to yourself. He chuckles at the statement “You could at least sound like you've convinced yourself of that little lie.” You groan in frustration “why are you doing this Sylus! Everything you've done since you came back from your little disappearing act has been for her.” He lets out a tsk “Don't make this about her, she has nothing to do with your actions” he says the irritation starting to creep in trough every word. “If it wasnt for her we wouldn't even be where we are now” you snap.  

He sighs “I didn't call you to argue about petty things. You don't have a choice anymore. Comeback willingly or I'll just have to come and get you” Your breath hitches and look over to Xavier who was still sleeping peacefully. “And don't think he can save you” he says and then the line goes dead. Yiu sat there in silence for a moment and then moved to get up. You didn't want to put Xavier in harm's way so you thought it would be best to follow what Sylus says. As soon as you moved to get up from the couch Xavier grabs your arm. You look at him and he was wide awake now “Sit down, don't move.”  he says sternly. “Xavier, I have-” he silenced you with just one look that showed that he was being serious. You decided that you've had enough of testing these dangerous men and sat back down without arguing. He doesn't say anything else and jsut closes his eyes laying his head back against the head of the couch.  His hand was still wrapped around your arm, not tightly but just firm enough to let you know not to try anything else.

You look over at Xavier his eyes still shit, you knew he wasnt asleep. His hand traced soft circles on your wrist, it was almost as if he was trying to calm your nerves. “Xavier he's-” you start. “I know” he says his eyes still closed. You leave it there not wanting to discuss it any further. “hes not someone that scares me so you have nothing to worry about” he finally says. You just nod and close your eyes, not wanting to think about this any longer. Outside the apartment across the street, Mephisto sat still. He was watching ytou both closely, waiting on his masters next step.  

You didn't realize you fell asleep, until you woke up to what sounded like creaking in the apartment. You opened your eyes, the place was pitch black aside from the trails of moonlight streaming in from the peaks of the semi open curtains. You felt Xaviers hand on your wrist tighten and you could guess that it wasnt him that made the floorboards of the apartment creak. “Knock knock, anyone home” you hear a playful voice call out in the darkness “idiot you're supposed to actually knock first” you hear the same voice say. Your breathing quickens at the familiarity of the voices. Xaviers grip on your wrist was now lethal and you say a flash of light emitting from his side. The light now lit up the apartment and you saw the figure, well figures. There stood two familiar faces, well mask, of Luke and Keiran. You stood quickly bringing Xavier up with you. “Happy to see us boss lady” the playful voice of you recognized as Luke spoke up. Xavier steps Infront of you, his sword made of his evol positioned in front of him.  

“Ohhh scary” Keiran's voice says playfully “i bet it makes your bones vibrate when it slices through it” he adds. Xaviers grip tightens, and his voice was deathly serious now, a tone you had never heard before “Its only one way to find out” He swings the sword, but Keiran moves quicker, avoiding the swing of gracefully. “Woah man we’re here under strict orders from the boss man. He didn't say fight only to retrieve” You scoff “if he sent you two, he expected blood shed” you say. Luke gasps in mock offense “Rude! He sent us because we know how valuable you are to him” Keiran shakes his head in agreement “if you don't come back with us the boss man may just break down in tears, you wouldn't want our poor boss to be sad would he” Keiran say putting his hand over his heart.  

“Shes not going anywhere” Xavier says. Luke groans and throws his arms int he air “Who even are you! You're really starting to get on my nerves” Lukes's voice becomes serious when saying the last sentence. This was bad, really bad. If you didn't go with them who knew what they would do to Xavier. The twins were fun sure but were true sadist at heart. “The boss is getting impatient” Keiran says his voice no longer playful either, as Mephisto comes and lands on the window seal that was wide open. You sigh and make your decision. You manage to pull your hand out of Xaviers grip and the way he reached back out to catch it broke something in you. Luke got to you first though pulling you towards him. “Xavier, if I don't go with them now, next time he sends them they won't be in a playful mood” you say to him. Luke and Keiran both nod in unison. “He would chew us out so bad we would have no choice but to take it out on you” Keiran says shrugging his shoulders. Mephisto caws loudly and Luke and Keiran both look at each other “welp time to go, playtimes over.” Keiran says. They drag you to the door as you tried not to look back at Xavier “also don't try to follow us pretty boy, Boss won't be too nice next time” Luke says as they close the apartment door behind them.  

 

As they walk you out of the apartment you shrug their hands off “Where is he?” you say irritated. “Chilllll boss lady, you'll see him soon enough” Luke says. “You know you're his favorite; he's been going crazy these past few days” Keiran says as they lead you to a car. They opened the door to the back seat and there sat Sylus. “Look who willingly decided to come with us boss!!” Luke says cheerfully. Sylus just smirks and nods. “We’ll make sure the grey-haired freak upstairs doesn't try anything” Keiran says ushering you inside. Sylus doesn’t say anything he just watches you slide into the seat next to him. You flinch slightly as the door slams shut.  

His fingers trail the side of your arm, making you tense up in anticipation of his next actions. Hes quiet at first, as his gloved hand traced invisible lines on your arm. His touch was soft and deliberate and made you feel as if he was leaving a trail of fire from how hot it was. “You could have at least called and told me you were leaving” he says his voice terrifyingly calm. “Don't you think I out of anyone deserves a goodbye” You don't respond, you didn't even want to look at him. The space in the car felt a lot smaller under his intense gaze. His fingers trail back up your arm, the gloved hand lightly wrapping around your throat lightly. His fingers press into your jaw tightly and he forces you to look at him. “I should be angry, hell I should be livid honestly” he says quietly his face getting closer to yours “But the way you looked under him last night tells me i need to try harder with you” You could feel the color drain out of your face at the realization of him knowing. You shouldn't care about what he knows and how he feels about it but you are all too aware of the consequences of his feelings.  

“What do you want me to say to that” you shoot at him and he tsk at your attitude. “You dont have to say anything” he says his grip tightening slightly and his thumb caress to and you could sense his irritation. “But….you are going to feel the consequences of trying to leave”

He lets go of your face and taps the privacy window between the two of you and the driver. The car starts up and starts to move at a steady speed. He reaches over buckling you into your seatbelt. He grabs your face and makes you face him again as he speaks “But for now, just enjoy the drive” he says softly and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

tags: @sillyfreakfanparty @crimsonmarabou @z3vl @96jnie @perqbeth @justpassingdontworry @malleus-draconias-rose @sleepykittyenergy @aboobie @syluslittlecrows @scrambledhuevos79 @madam8 @fandomenbylover@insidious-innocence @etherealsoul90 @xsammijoanneex @acasualattempt  @sylusgirlie7 @jasperjokester @animegamerfox @jae48 @goldenbirdiee @zoezhive @rxelarailuj @huuvu @simphoursonly  @athanasia-day @asakiyu @thirstblogforaparchedgirl @eolivy @caramelizedpopcirn @auraficial @dilf-destroyer-04

[rosalietodd013]

it had been two weeks since the fight.

you said he was too intense, but also too guarded. you spoke while he said almost nothing. he didn’t stop you when you walked out, and that had hurt the most.

but you never blocked him on your phone. you saw the message, sitting at the top of your screen like a trigger.

i left a blade at your place. i need it back.

typical sylus. cold. precise. no emotion, except for the fact that you knew that knife had your initials etched beneath the handle.

you read it. let it sit and decided not to reply.

an hour later he sent another text.

don’t leave me on fucking read.

you flinched. that wasn’t a request. that was a warning. and you knew sylus. when he warns you, you listen, or you deal with the consequences.

this time you chose violence. you locked your phone and curled up on the couch. it was barely surprising as another thirty minutes passed and the door creaked open. he still had your key.

“sylus—”

he was already in front of you, black coat open just enough to see the holster against his ribs. his hands were bare and they were trembling.

“you read it.” his voice was too calm. “you saw it. and you said nothing.”

“i didn’t know what to say.”

“you say, ‘yes sylus.’ that’s all i ever needed.”

you took a step back, but he followed. eyes sharp, chest rising slow, like he was trying not to explode.“you think i stopped wanting you? you think i stopped dreaming about your skin, your voice, the way you say my fucking name?”

“i just—”

“you run and you think i won’t chase. but baby—” he pushed you hard against the wall. “you don’t leave someone like me on read.”

then he grabbed your jaw, tilted your face and kissed you like he was starving. his tongue pushed past your lips like it belonged there, like he remembered how you tasted after hours of ruin.

“you smell the same,” he groaned against your neck. “like peaches and sin.”

you gasped as he picked you up and lifted you like you weighed nothing and pressed his hips flush against yours. he pulled down your shorts with rough, hungry fingers rough.

“you’re wet. fuck, you’re soaked.”

“sylus—”

“say it.”

“say what—”

“say that you missed me.”

you didn’t say it. so he bit your shoulder. “you’re mine,” he muttered. “still mine. always.”

then he shoved his thick, heavy length inside you. every inch of him carved for you. and he fucked you against the wall like he was punishing you. like every thrust said, i should’ve never let you go.

“you left me,” he groaned, forehead pressed to yours. “so i’ll fuck the fear back into you.”

your moans echoed through the apartment, your nails dragged down his back, and when you came shaking around him, he didn’t stop.

he buried himself so deep, kissed your throat, and came inside you like it was the only thing anchoring him to this world.

then he whispered softly. “you leave me on read again… i’ll tie you to the bed and remind you who i kill for.”

[rosalietodd013]

Yes

first fight | gojo satoru ╰►you and your boyfriend, gojo never fight. it's like your whole schtick. you love each other sooooo much that nothing is ever important enough to argue over. sure, you get annoyed with each other, but you're both adults who love each other very, very much. nothing is worth jeopardizing your relationship over, and you're both perfectly capable of having mature conversations with one another. it drives his students crazy, how gojo pulled such a 10/10 and how you never fight, your relationship is just perfect. until it isn't. until you tell gojo the one thing he never thought you'd say, the last thing he ever wanted to hear from you. 3.8k words

a/n: I love disgustingly, sickeningly, disturbingly in love couples, because what do you mean people actually experience true joy and unconditional love??? anyways, this deals with some self-esteem issues, insecurities, etc. from both parties, some are more physical, others are more mental. just want y'all to know that I love you, even though I don't know you, because you all deserve that :)

you arrive at jujutsu high in the same car every morning, the same soundtrack playing, the same thermos passed between your hands. gojo insists that coffee tastes better when it’s made by you, even though he’s the one who set the timer on the machine at 6:00 a.m. sharp. you just roll your eyes and let him say it, because he looks at you like you’ve just invented the concept of caffeine.

everything about the two of you is too much.

you walk through the school like you were born holding hands. you teach separate classes, sure, but somehow you still manage to be in the same rooms at the same times, overlapping missions and sparring demos and paperwork like you planned it. which—okay—you did. kind of.

lunch is shared. not in the “sitting across from each other like normal people” way, but in the “you’re eating from his bento and he’s picking the mushrooms out of yours” kind of way. shoko once joked that if she took one of your lunches and swapped it with the other, you’d both starve out of muscle memory.

gojo didn’t even deny it. he just said, “honestly? probably true.”

and somehow, you make it work. him with his chaotic, oversized presence, and you with your quiet steel. it’s like watching a thunderstorm fall in love with a garden. beautiful. slightly horrifying. weirdly functional.

the students, of course, are suffering.

“do they ever fight?” nobara asks one afternoon, watching you flick a piece of eraser at gojo’s head during a grading session.

“they don’t even disagree,” megumi mutters. “it’s like they’re possessed.”

“they’re just in love,” yuji says with a dumb little smile, arms behind his head. “it’s sweet.”

“it’s unnatural,” nobara grumbles. "I saw them high-five after a kill last week. who does that?”

“they make up little handshakes,” megumi adds darkly, like he’s sharing a war crime. “one for every type of curse. I've seen it.”

you two are oblivious, or maybe just immune. gojo’s got one leg thrown over your chair, bent over your shoulder as you work through lesson plans, humming some off-key pop song into your ear. you tap his nose with a pen when he gets too loud. he steals your glasses and wears them dramatically until you threaten to break his fingers. everyone assumes it’s a joke. (it’s not.)

even utahime has given up. "I hate him slightly less when you’re around,” she admitted once, after a mission. “don’t quote me. I'll deny it.”

“quoting it,” gojo chirped, already grinning like a child who’s won the spelling bee. “printing it. framing it.”

she almost cursed him on the spot.

and nanami—well. nanami sighs a lot these days. "I assume you’ve figured out how to file joint mission reports by now,” he says without looking up, already anticipating gojo’s attempt to dump his paperwork on him.

“oh, we file jointly,” gojo replies with a smug little smirk. “she writes, I supervise.”

“she works,” nanami corrects. “you annoy.” but nanami doesn’t say much else, and he doesn’t really have to. you know he doesn’t hate it as much as he pretends to. the two of you get the job done. your students are thriving. you and gojo—well. you don’t fight. you just don’t.

there’s never been a reason to. you annoy each other, sure, and he leaves his socks on the floor and you use his fancy hair stuff without asking, and sometimes you both forget that not every disagreement has to become a twenty-minute philosophical debate—but none of it matters. none of it’s important. nothing is ever more important than each other.

and everyone knows it. you’re the couple. not just a couple. the couple. the blueprint. the “they’re so gross it’s kind of beautiful” pair that makes everyone feel like maybe love is possible, if you just find the right balance of infuriating and perfect.

the first time you attend one of the sorcerer galas together, it feels like a fairytale.

gojo’s tux is crisp and sleek, his blindfold replaced with thin designer sunglasses that let his smirk gleam underneath. you wear black satin with a slit that teeters on the edge of scandalous, and he damn near short-circuits trying to pick his jaw off the floor. you aren’t fond of crowds, not fond of being seen, but you do it for him. for your boyfriend. for the strongest.

“damn, baby,” he breathes into your neck that night, one hand on your waist, the other around a champagne flute. “do you want me to get assassinated? ‘cause you’re killing me.” you laugh. your heart glows. you stay close to his side all night, tucked under his arm like his favorite secret.

the second gala is a little harder.

the hair takes longer. the heels are higher. the dress clings tighter. it’s blue this time, and gojo whistles when you walk out of the bathroom. but he doesn't notice how long you took to put on your eyeliner. how many times you changed the part in your hair. how much of your dinner you didn’t eat. you stay quiet. smiling. you know how to play the part.

he keeps you close again, proudly introducing you to a blur of other sorcerers and cursed clan heirs and political figures whose names all sound the same. you hold your glass delicately and shake their hands and say all the right things. you don’t notice when you start holding your breath.

by the tenth event, it’s a routine. you wake up with your stomach in knots. you force yourself to eat something light. you do your makeup, wash it off, and do it again. you think about skipping it. you think about canceling. you know he'd say yes, bend to your every whim, probably even comfort you if you asked to stay him. you think about asking him to go alone. but he’s so happy when he talks about you. when he holds your hand and introduces you as his person. when he leans over during a speech to whisper, “if you weren’t here, i’d be asleep under the dessert table.”

you’re his anchor in a room full of masks and monsters. and god, you try. you try so hard.

you wear the tight red dress, even though it makes you feel like you’re stuffed into someone else’s skin. you suck in your stomach. you smile at the compliments that don’t feel real. you nod along to conversations you don’t understand. you rest your hand on satoru’s chest like it belongs there, even when you want to disappear into the floorboards. you do your job. you perform. but the thing about performance is that it’s exhausting. and eventually, even the strongest burn out.

it happens on the way home. you’re riding in the passenger seat, skin prickling, heart thudding like it’s run five miles without you. your hair is pinned perfectly. your lipstick hasn’t smudged. your hands are shaking in your lap, the ocular headache you have right now is blurring your vision, and satoru doesn’t see it because he’s humming under his breath to the radio, one hand on the wheel, the other already reaching for yours like always.

you pull into the lot. the engine cuts. he gets out first, stretches dramatically, then opens your door with that lazy, dazzling grin. “c’mon, sweetheart,” he says, extending a hand. “let’s get you out of those murder weapons and into something cozy.” right, heels. torture devices.

but you don’t move. not right away. your eyes don’t meet his. and then you climb out of the car, slowly, shakily, the sound of your heels against the pavement almost too loud in the night.

he notices it then—the way your fingers fumble with your clutch, how your shoulders curl inward like you’re bracing for impact. your lip trembles. your eyes are bloodshot, glassy and wet. you're crying.

his heart skips so violently he thinks for a second it might’ve stopped altogether. “hey—hey, baby,” he murmurs, voice shifting into panic-soft, the way it only gets when you're sick or hurt. “what’s wrong? what happened? did someone—did I—?”

he takes a step toward you, and your breath catches.

your arms wrap around yourself. your chin drops to your chest. "I can’t do this,” you whisper, and it’s not dramatic, not a plea—it’s just...honest. defeated. tired. 

gojo's entire world narrows to the space between you. the space that, for once, isn’t shrinking.

he doesn’t understand it yet—not fully—but the panic starts to rise. because his girl, his perfect girl, his one-in-a-billion miracle who never asks for anything, who has stood beside him through missions and injuries and political bullshit and nightmares—you’re crying. right here. dressed like a goddess and shaking like a leaf. and for the first time in a long time, he has no idea how to fix it.

……

you make it up the stairs in silence. gojo unlocks the door like muscle memory, eyes on you the whole time, one hand still ready to catch your elbow, your waist, anything. just in case. just in case you fall. just in case you run.

you don’t do either. you step inside, and the door clicks closed behind you. the red dress is suffocating now. your shoes pinch like punishment. the golden light of your apartment feels wrong—too bright, too cozy. like you’re tainting it just by existing here, dressed like this, breaking like this.

“I'm sorry,” you say suddenly, too fast, too quiet. satoru blinks. you won’t look at him. "I know I'm being dramatic. I just—I just can’t do it anymore. I'm so tired.”

he’s next to you in a second, hands gentle but firm as he guides you to sit on the edge of the bed. kneels in front of you, big hands on your knees, eyes frantic behind his sunglasses. “talk to me,” he says softly. “please. tell me what’s wrong, baby. tell me what I can do.”

you shake your head. “it’s not you,” you whisper. “it’s me. I mean—god, that sounds stupid. I just—I can’t keep doing these things. the events. the meetings. the fake smiling and fake laughing. I know they’re important to you. I know I'm supposed to be...whatever I am to you. a partner. a face. something pretty on your arm.”

he flinches at that. you don’t notice.

"I keep trying to be enough. I keep thinking, maybe if I wear the right dress, or say the right thing, or pretend I'm not awkward and shy and fucking uncomfortable in my own skin—maybe I'll feel like I deserve to be there. next to you. with you.”

his voice is soft, low, trembling. “you do deserve—”

"I don’t.” you don’t raise your voice. you don’t need to. the words come out like a knife’s edge. like a breath you’ve been holding for months. "I don’t,” you repeat, quieter now. “I'm not pretty enough. I'm not confident. I'm not exciting or charming or strong. I'm not anything.” not anything compared to you, but you aren’t quite brave enough for that yet. or maybe you are and you’re worried he’s the one that’s not brave enough. 

satoru’s hands tighten on your knees. “that’s—baby, that’s ridiculous. you’re—” he laughs, like it’s absurd, like it’s a joke. “you’re gorgeous. you’re funny and smart and—”

“I'm not, satoru.” the sound of his name stops him cold. you only ever call him that when something’s wrong. "I know you love me,” you say. “and I love you so, so much. but I feel like I'm waiting for the moment when you wake up one day and realize what everyone else already knows. that I'm not good enough for you. that I never was. that you deserve someone...better. someone funnier, someone prettier. someone who can actually handle this world you live in. someone more like you.”

and that’s it. that’s the line. the one thing you never should’ve said. the thing he’s been waiting—terrified—to hear. because he’s always known you’d leave him. not because you’d stop loving him. no. because you’d stop loving yourself. because you’d look in the mirror and only see the ways you think you fall short, and you’d believe them. because he’s spent every damn day of your relationship thanking the stars you even looked at him twice—and now you’re here, thinking he’s the one who’s out of your league.

like your love isn’t the first real thing he’s ever had. like he doesn’t spend every waking moment terrified he’ll mess it up.

the silence is heavy. you don’t look up. you can’t. because if you do, if you see the look on his face—the hurt, the disbelief, the heartbreak—you’ll crumble.

and you can’t fall apart now. you’re already too far gone.

satoru says nothing. for once, he says nothing.

you don't know what to do with that. you brace yourself for an argument, a denial, a joke—something. but the silence wraps around you like a blanket just a little too heavy. it's not punishing. it’s not cold. it's aching. and when he moves—when he stands and reaches for your wrists—it’s slow and reverent.

you flinch, just slightly. you think he’s going to hug you. you brace for it. and you think—don’t. please don’t. because if he hugs you now, you’ll crumble. you’ll drown in it. in how good it feels. how wrong it feels. how unearned.

but he doesn't pull you in. he turns you around. guides you across the room with hands light on your back. and before you know it, you’re in the bathroom, sitting on the counter, legs swinging slightly, your red dress riding above your knees.

he’s still taller than you. even like this. and then—you freeze. because he starts taking out the pins in your hair. one by one. slow. delicate. like you’re made of spun glass. like he’s afraid you’ll shatter if he pulls too hard.

it’s the most careful he’s ever been. you usually just claw them out with a groan, drag a comb through, and fall into bed. but satoru’s fingers are sure, gentle. reverent.

you don’t say anything. neither does he.

then come the makeup wipes—cool against your cheeks, your lips, your lashes. he doesn’t scrub. he doesn’t rush. he just erases—soft and patient and tender. the face you wore tonight, the mask you built so carefully, peeled away in layers. one wipe. then another. then another.

and still, he says nothing. but there's a tiny smile growing on his lips. not amused. not teasing. content. because the woman on this counter—bare-faced, heavy-limbed, emotionally wrecked—is his. and that alone is enough to undo him. he finishes the last swipe, tosses the wipe into the trash, and sets both hands on either side of your thighs on the counter. close. steadying himself. like if he doesn't hold onto something, he might spin off the earth.

"I don’t know how deep this thing runs,” he says finally. quiet. low. barely above a whisper. “and I won’t pretend I can fix it in a night.” you blink. swallow. nod. “but I need you to hear this. really hear me.” his voice is steady. soft, but unshaking. “maybe there is someone out there who looks better on paper. someone more suited to the job. someone who would’ve made sense in a perfect little sorcerer marriage. someone the higher-ups would’ve picked for me. but the second I met you—” he breathes out through his nose, like it still stuns him, “—the second I met you, that version of me—the one who ends up with someone else—died.”

you blink hard. he presses on.

“you’re not my arm candy. you’re not my accessory. you’re not here to make me look good or fit into some mold. if that’s what I was meant to have…god, I never would’ve subjected you to that, to the whole performance of it. I'm so sorry that you’ve been feeling like that this whole time.” you exhale. shaky. but the tears slow.

“and yeah, I'm loud. I'm obnoxious. I'm exhausting. I was told my whole life that I was too much, and I believed it—until I met you. you never once made me feel like I was too much. you just...let me be. let me love you.” you nod. tiny. barely.

“and now you’re the one who thinks you’re not enough, and I swear to you—on my life, on everything I am—you are. you are. maybe we’re both a mess, but if that’s true, then we’re the only kind of mess I want to be. you and me. no masks. no roles. just us.” 

and finally, finally, your tears stop. you breathe in, and it lands. it sinks in like rain into dry soil. like something alive. something healing. you slide off the counter. unzip your dress, slow. you grab an oversized shirt from the drawer. toss it on. you pull out a pair of sweatpants and hand them to him without a word.

he changes, quietly, mirroring you. and then you both sit. on the bed. cross-legged. until you climb into his lap like it’s instinct. like your body knows where it belongs. your fingers trace the line of his jaw, his cheekbones, his lips. and you look at him like he is holy. like you’re not worthy—but you want to be. and gojo—satoru—melts.

he’s not the strongest sorcerer in the world. he’s not special. not here. not in this room. not with you looking at him like that. he’s just yours. yours. yours.

you breathe, trembling. “I'm sorry.” he opens his mouth. you keep going. “I'm so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I know that’s the thing you hate hearing. I know it’s what they’ve always told you. that you’re too much, too strong, too untouchable, and I used it against you, even if I didn’t mean to. I just—i didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear I didn’t. I love you so much I—”

“hey,” he whispers, hand sliding up your back. “hey.” you stop.

"I get it. I do.” his hand moves in slow circles. "I know what it’s like. to feel like you’re not enough. I know exactly what that voice in your head sounds like. I hear it every time I look in the mirror.” you press your forehead against his. he kisses the corner of your mouth. “maybe we’re not perfect,” he says. “but I know we’re enough. enough for ourselves, and enough for each other. and I've never asked you to be enough, I just want you to be with me. that is enough.”

you nod. you don’t trust your voice. you curl into him. let the rhythm of his breath soothe you. let his fingers write love letters into your spine. and then—through the snot and salt and stifled giggle—you whisper: “is this our first fight?”

satoru groans dramatically. "I hope not. if it is, we’re already terrible at it.” you snort. he grins. “but,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple, “it damn well better be our last.”

satoru is not stupid enough to think that this is solved, that he's perfectly put you back together and that you'll never feel another insecurity ever again. if you were at a point this low, in which you thought he was something to deserve, and even worse that you somehow didn't...that's not something that will be magically changed by a couple of compliments in one evening.

but that doesn't change the fact that he's trying, and that he'll continue to try. to make you see yourself in the way that you see him, in the way that he sees you. perfect, beautiful, everything all at once.

……

the next morning is…normal. which is to say, it’s perfect.

you wake up tangled in limbs, mouth dry, vision blurry, and feet sore. gojo’s hair is a catastrophe. your shirt is on backwards. neither of you cares. he kisses your nose and groans, “babe, I love you, but if you don’t get off my arm in the next ten seconds I will have to gnaw it off like a wild animal.”

you snort. “aren’t you into the wild animal thing?” 

he grins like it’s the cleverest thing he’s ever heard, even though it’s so, so stupid and probably the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever said. “down, girl.” 

it’s the same routine. brush teeth together, jostling elbows. you steal his shirt. he steals your breakfast. he fake-gasps like it’s a betrayal. you threaten his life. he says, “as long as it’s in your arms, baby.”

there's a little weight there, that wasn't yesterday morning. you both carry it on your shoulders, but at least you're not carrying it on your own anymore, satoru thinks. he's more than happy to carry it with you.

you drive together. park crookedly. link pinkies the whole walk into the school. take your usual spot on the bench by the vending machine. except now—it’s not just routine. it’s not autopilot. every moment feels intentional. you do everything together, but now you feel it.

every sip of shared coffee. every brush of fingers. every sideways glance in a too-long meeting. every dumb joke from yuji that makes you laugh just a little too loud.

and speaking of which—yuji stares at the two of you from across the courtyard as you sit on a bench, sharing a smoothie like that’s a completely normal thing for two fully grown adults to do. yuta, nobara, and megumi watch too, with something more akin to disgust. 

yuta squints. tilts his head. “hey, do they ever fight?”

megumi sighs like he’s aged thirty years. “don’t ask.”

"I mean, they must fight. but they’re like, weirdly in sync about it. maybe they fight in their minds. like telepathically. like—maybe they’re fighting right now,” yuji says animatedly. 

nobara socks him in the ribs. “shut up, rom-com boy. some of us are trying to enjoy the one healthy relationship in this entire war-torn hellscape.”

yuji wheezes. “oof. I'm just saying—they make fighting look like flirting.”

"that's because they probably are flirting, you dumbass. gojo finally got a girl and he's never gonna stop talking her up," megumi says, because he knows way too much about your relationship. gojo tells him much more than he'd ever like to hear.

gojo, across the yard, sticks his tongue out and flashes a peace sign without even turning around. you don’t even notice. just sip the smoothie again. business as usual.

gojo doesn’t show up to any major events with you for a while. he goes alone sometimes—just enough to keep the higher-ups off his back—but even then, he’s ghost-like. there. visible. but untouchable.

the public misses his usual flare. the loud suits. the outrageous jokes. the smug charm.

he saves all that for you, now. and then—one day—he brings you. you don’t dress up. you don’t pile on the makeup or style your hair into something that takes three rounds of heat damage and an exorcism to hold. you just throw on the linen sundress he always stares at a little too long. (it’s the one he once called “a religious experience.” you told him to shut up. he told you it was too late, he’d already ascended.)

your hair is down. soft. natural. windswept from the drive. you slapped on some makeup at 6:00 a.m. that morning and didn’t bother touching it up. and to him—you look like a dream. not the kind that fades when you wake up. the kind that follows you. that clings. that changes you.

you don’t talk to any of the council members. you don’t need to. you talk to him. you talk to the students. you let ino talk your ear off about his promotion, and you smile like you mean it—because you do. you’re proud of him. you’re present. you’re glowing.

and the council members do look your way. they glance, whisper, measure. but gojo doesn’t even let it start. one look from him—one icy flash of his eyes, a fraction of his power slipping out like a cold wind—and the room resets. no one says a word. you are not a weakness. you are not a mistake. you are not a prop on his arm. you are the axis his world spins around. you laugh at something he says—head tilted back, unguarded, radiant—and he thinks: I could give her the world. every inch of it. and still want to give her more. because you’re happy. you’re not grinning for the crowd, not posing for a photo. you’re happy. and that is more than enough.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[rosalietodd013]

🎀 protective to a fault: sylus walks slightly in front of you out of habit. it’s subtle but intentional. he’s always scanning your surroundings, even when you’re just going for coffee. his calm presence hides a constant edge of alertness.

🎀 not big on words, big on actions: he’s not the type to say “i love you” every hour, but he shows it constantly. he’ll fix things without asking, hand you your favorite drink silently and pull you into his coat when you’re cold.

🎀 gentle with you, rough with the world: no matter how sharp he is with others, his voice goes soft when he talks to you. low and quiet like you’re something breakable, but only in the most precious way.

🎀 he needs physical closeness: you’ll find him silently leaning his forehead against yours when he’s overwhelmed. he might not talk, but he’ll hold your hand, link pinkies under the table or press his chest to your back while you sleep.

🎀 rare smiles for you: he doesn’t laugh often, but when he does? it’s soft and husky and wrecks you. he looks younger, freer. he always tries to hide it with a head tilt or a cough. but you see it and you melt.

🎀 keeps something of yours on him: a hair tie around his wrist. a note you left in his pocket. he never talks about it, but he always has some little part of you close. it grounds him.

🎀 when he calls you ‘angel’: it’s rare and sacred. he’ll murmur it into your hair when you’re half asleep, or when he’s holding you after a nightmare. it’s his most vulnerable endearment and his way of saying, you saved me.

🎀 the voice drops an octave: when he wants you, his voice gets dark and low. he’ll murmur things in your ear in that deadly calm tone. stuff that makes your knees weak and your core clench. and he knows exactly what he’s doing.

🎀 “say it again.”: sylus loves when you praise him, especially in bed. say he’s good, say he’s yours, say he feels perfect and he’ll growl “say it again” against your neck like a command. you’ll be trembling before he even moves.

🎀 possessive but controlled: he’ll leave bruises on your hips, his marks on your throat. but he does it all while holding your gaze, whispering “you’re mine” in a way that’s more vow than threat.

🎀 always in control, until he’s not: he tries to stay composed. but you? you ruin him. the way you moan his name, the look you give him when you beg, he’ll snap, pin you down and wreck you until you’re limp and glowing.

🎀 he’s lowkey kinky but classy about it: bondage, control, whispered orders. he’s into it. but it’s always respectful. never degrading. he makes you want to obey, makes you crave being good for him. and when you are? he rewards you like royalty.

🎀 post-sex worship: he goes soft after and kisses every inch of you. holds you like you’re something holy. rubs your thighs gently, brushes your hair back, “you okay, angel?” like you didn’t just see god.

[rosalietodd013]

Truer words 😔

Crying over getting played is for losers, instead I cry about Nanami Kento not being real.

[rosalietodd013]

Haste

Sypnosis : Public sex with Gojo!

cw,MDNI. fem!reader x Gojo Satoru, public sex, dumbification, unprotected sex, making out, overstimulation

A/N: This is my first time writing smut, feel free to request! Also this is a drabble, it’s why it’s so short let me know if you guys want more!

“mmgh.. fuh—uuckk..” You whimpered, hips trying to shy away from his unrelenting ones.  The pleasure being too much to handle for your poor hole. “don’t—“ thrust. “—run away from this.” His veiny hands grip onto your hips, thrusting his cock between your pussy lips. Almost— no. Too much for you to handle. And he KNOWS it, he’s well aware of what he does to you and your body.

It all started when you wore that extremely short skirt outside. Gojo didn’t like the looks and hungry stares other men gave you. You noticed, yet— you decided to play with his buttons. Doing everything to make him jealous, even as far as “flirting” with another guy. That took him to the edge, pulling your wrist towards him and leading you to an empty alleyway. 

Hastily, he put his tongue in your mouth and started undoing your panties. Gasping for air, Gojo marks your neck— hungry and pissed. “gguh.. what are you do—doing…” He looks at you, eyes dark and cocky. “Don’t act all innocent baby, just let me have this.. have you, yeah?” He whispered, lips hovering above yours. He flips you around, your cheek against the rough wall. Undoing his belt, he rubs his shaft between your pussy lips

“wait— we’re doing it without a.. condom?” Your voice whispered as you felt him tap his veiny shaft on your pussy. “I’ll buy you the pills later, can I?” Biting your lip, you nodded in agreement, that was enough for him to push his tip in your hole. “A-agh…! Shit—‘toru..” your slick covered his cock as he drills in deeper. Oh god— he’s losing all control over himself, your velvet walls squeezing him in. Gojo shoves your panties in your mouth. He feels so overwhelmingly good, he might cum if he hears you say that cute nickname again.

Grasping your hips tightly, he rammed in deeper, feeling all your insides get rearranged. Tears falling from your cheeks, panties in your mouth while you claw the rough wall. “F-fuckk.. this pussy.. ‘ts all mine yeah..?” One of his hands cup your breast and play with your nipples. “Not gonna stop until you’ve learnt your lesson. I have to show you who exactly you belong to.”

[rosalietodd013]

based on this ask

“toru’ give me a sec,” you whispered in a whiny and hushed tone in his ear as his entire body weight blanketed you, nearly crushing you but... semantics; him peppering gentle kisses along your collarbone that made your stomach feel light.

reluctantly, and with a miffed side comment, he pushed off of you and you were finally able to take in a deep breath as your mind was running low on oxygen, barely able to focus on the movie playing, practically background noise as the two of you indulged in the presence of one another.

but what was really bothering you was the way your bra clasp was digging into your back, incessantly prodding and piercing you every time you adjusted your position.

you brought your hands behind your back, up and under your satoru’s shirt and undid the clasp. pulling it out from a shirt sleeve, you tossed it to the side and held your arms open to your boyfriend to cuddle with you again but he had a dazed look on his face.

you tilted your head in confusion, wondering what the sudden apprehension was, yet suddenly gojo was on you like a dog.

falling backwards onto the couch with a squeal, he pressed his face into your chest, nuzzling your breasts through the fabric of the cotton tee.

you giggled, feeling his warm breath fan through hard enough to tickle your bosom. “what has gotten into you?!” you shrieked with a laugh, his hands finding comfort on your sides and holding you in place.

“so so soft,” he sighed out in content, rubbing his cheek against the hardened nipple that poked through. you squirmed in his hold, a nest of butterflies erupting in your stomach as he admired you despite the casual look you were adorning.

“is that so,” you replied, feeling oddly domesticated and cherishing the way he adored you so simply.

he didn't need to respond. he continued his gentle assault on you until his hands, calloused and warm, began to trail up your shirt, a hand of his reaching your breast and cupping it gently.

you let out a soft sigh, tossing your head to the side as you skimmed your fingers through his milky tresses, indulging in just how beautiful he could make you feel.

and within a quick few movements, he tugged the shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the side and cupping your bare breasts just to stuff his face with them. no matter how much he liked to see you in his clothes, he liked to see you naked even more.

“beautiful girl,” he spoke out, as if he wasn’t even thinking clearly and it spilled from his lips by accident. your heart blossomed like a night flower, unfurling each petal for him to gaze upon.

you could only hum, peering down at how his caresses soon turned into long languid strips of his tongue flat against your skin. a mewl left your lips as his muscle found your sensitive bud, flicking it until it was erect.

he grinned against your skin, that signature smug look he plastered on when he had you undone in his hold. “like that?”

you nodded, your lashes fluttering as your cheeks heated at the feeling of his hands roaming your bare skin. you weren't sure why this was turning you on so much, watching your boyfriend just rub his cheeks against the supple skin.

"think i can suck on one while we watch?" he queried like he was asking to pass him the sugar cubes at the breakfast table for his cloying coffee, as if it was the most normal question in the world.

and who were you to deny such a thing?

you could bask in the comments of him calling your breasts 'pillows' and leaving gentle love bites scattered unceremoniously across your skin.

it was gentle, domestic, it was fondness. it was all the things you craved that satoru so easily delivered to you on a plate.

[rosalietodd013]

He has a family now… (and im the mother)