à»ÖŽÍĄÂ  đŒăđetter from the editor     âĄâ ă
â call me sayuki/yrovi. ?????. she/her. asian, filo. multi-fandom. infp-t. i either overthink a lot, or dont care at all. i cry while writing angst yet i continue anyway. fluff enthusaist. addicted to angst. requests are open, anon, 'n i love you all <3
à»ÖŽÍĄÂ  đŒăđind me elsewhere     âĄâ ă
â discord. (mostly online here) twitter. spotify.
â working on my web <3
à»ÖŽÍĄÂ  đŒăđŁhe fine print     âĄâ ă
â i write for satoru gojo and maybe other characters if requested. all my works are f!reader, i can make gn!reader works if requested. i usually make fluff that'll give u diabetes or angst that'll probably break ur heart. i try to reach atleast 10k+ worth of word count per week. feel free to slide into my dms, i love talking to ppl!! (ÂŽâœ`ÊâĄÆȘ)
â boundaries & req rules | taglist
à»ÖŽÍĄÂ  đŒăđŁhe archive     âĄâ ă
â masterlist
à»ÖŽÍĄÂ  đŒăđąayuki's select     âĄâ ă
â frozen in time <- maybe in another life (part 2), stay. please. , golden hour (and saltwater kisses) <- his everything (part 2, not canon to the "Satoru as Your Boyfriend" series.) , the stars you liked , fucked out, filled up
à»ÖŽÍĄÂ  đŒăđresh off the press     âĄâ ă
â the art of being greedy , the shape of devotion , fucked out, filled up , worthy of you
thank you for stopping by my little corner of the internet â whether you came for the fluff, the angst, or just because you're as obsessed with gojo satoru as i am!! my inbox is always open, anon is on for the shy ones, and i read every single message with a heart full of love. if you've ever read something i wrote and felt something â that's everything to me. that's why i stay up way too late writing about a fictional man who has no idea i exist. now go drink some water and hug a pillow, you deserve it!! stay peak and love satoru for me !! â sayuki âčđč
kiss your screen every time you see a typo or grammatical error in my fics because it means it's home grown and not some ai bullshit and im dead serious about this
The door barely clicks shut before you're on them.
"Bedroom," you say, already stripping off your jacket, your shirt, everything. "Now. Both of you naked by the time I get there."
Satoru laughs, that low sound that goes straight to your core, but he's already moving, long fingers working open his shirt with practiced ease. "Missed you too, princess."
"Less talking," you shoot back, but you're smiling, watching them from the corner of your eye as you lead the way. Watching the way Suguru's gaze drops to your ass, the way Satoru's tongue darts out to wet his lips.
You love this. Love the power of it, the way they follow you like you're the only thing in the world worth following.
The bedroom is exactly how you left it this morning â messy, lived-in, theirs. You crawl onto the bed and settle against the headboard, legs spread just enough to make your intentions clear, and watch them strip with the patience of someone who knows she's about to be worshipped.
Satoru peels off his blindfold first, always, revealing those impossible eyes that make your breath catch even now. Then his shirt, his pants, his everything until he's bare and beautiful and hard, already leaking at the tip, watching you watch him.
Suguru takes his time, methodical, folding each piece of clothing with infuriating precision while you squirm against the sheets. But his eyes never leave you, dark and hungry, and you can see the outline of him straining against his slacks before he even undoes the button.
"Mirror," you say, and they don't ask. They know.
Satoru drags the full-length mirror from Suguru's closet, angling it until you can see everything â the bed, your spread thighs, the two of them standing naked and desperate at the foot of it.
"Better," you purr, running your hand down your own stomach, watching them track the movement. "Now. Kiss him."
They don't hesitate. Satoru reaches for Suguru and Suguru goes to him like gravity, mouths crashing together with enough force to bruise. You watch, rapt, as Satoru tilts Suguru's head back, as Suguru's hands find Satoru's waist and pull, as they grind against each other with desperate, messy sounds that go straight to your cunt.
"Pretty," you breathe, and they break apart just enough to look at you, lips swollen, pupils blown wide. "So fucking pretty together. Do it again. Slower this time. I want to watch."
Satoru smirks, but he obeys, guiding Suguru's mouth back to his with deliberate patience. This time you see everything â the way Satoru's tongue slides against Suguru's lower lip, the way Suguru opens for him, the way their bodies press together hip to hip, cock to cock, both of them hard and leaking against each other while you watch.
Your hand drifts between your legs, fingers finding your clit, and you touch yourself lazily, unhurried. They groan in unison at the sight, breaking apart again to stare at you, mouths open, breathing hard.
"Don't stop," you warn, circling yourself with just enough pressure to tease. "I didn't say you could stop."
"Fuck," Satoru whispers, and Suguru makes a sound like he's dying.
They kiss again, deeper this time, messier, and you watch Satoru's hand slide down to wrap around both of them, stroking them together while they rut against each other. The sight of it â Satoru's long fingers, the way their cocks slide together, the pre smearing between them â has you moaning, fingers moving faster between your legs.
"That's it," you encourage, voice breathy even though you're trying to sound in control. "Touch each other. Show me how much you want it."
They break apart, gasping, and turn to look at you with matching expressions of desperate devotion.
"Please," Suguru manages, and you love that, love when the words slip out despite themselves. "Please, let us touch you. Let usâ"
"Come here," you interrupt, and they move like you've pulled their strings.
Satoru reaches you first, always faster, and you let him drag you down the bed until you're sprawled beneath them, legs spread wide, cunt dripping and open for them. Suguru crawls up between your thighs and pauses, looking down at you with something like awe.
"Look at you," he murmurs, and you preen under the attention, arching your back to offer yourself up. "So wet already... Just from watching us."
"From watching you kiss," you correct, and your voice is huskier than you intended, need bleeding through your attempted control. "Love watching you. Love how desperate you get for each other."
"Desperate for you," Satoru corrects, settling beside you, his hand finding your breast with unerring accuracy. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, just hard enough to make you gasp, and watches your face with those impossible eyes. "Always for you."
"Prove it," you challenge, and Suguru takes that as permission.
He lowers his head and feasts.
His mouth on your cunt is obscene, filthy, all the careful patience burned away until there's only hunger. He licks broad stripes up your center, circles your clit with the flat of his tongue, sucks on you like he's trying to draw out your soul. You cry out, back arching off the bed, and Satoru catches you, holds you down with one hand on your stomach while the other keeps playing with your breasts.
"Watch," he reminds you, turning your face toward the mirror like a fucking ragdoll with his fingers in your hair. "Watch how he eats you. Watch how fucking starved he is for it."
You look. You watch Suguru's dark head between your thighs, watch his tongue work your clit with desperate devotion, watch Satoru's hand on your breast, pinching and rolling and claiming. You watch yourself, spread open and panting, and you look good like this, looking like a goddess being worshipped by her favorites.
"More," you demand, even though you don't know what more could possibly mean. "I want more. Want both of you. Wantâ"
Satoru knows. He always knows. He shifts, moving to kneel beside your head, and you turn to take him in without being asked, opening your mouth for the weight of his cock on your tongue.
He groans, loud and broken, as you suck him in, hollow your cheeks, swallow around him like you're trying to take him apart. Suguru redoubles his efforts between your legs, fucking into you with his tongue now, pressing two fingers inside your dripping cunt and curling them just right while his mouth works your clit.
You moan around Satoru, the vibration making him curse, his hand fisting in your hair to guide your movements. Not forcing, never forcing, just directing, showing you how he wants it, and you let him, relax your throat and take him deeper, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the stretch of it.
They work you like that, Suguru's fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, his tongue circling your clit, Satoru's cock sliding between your lips, and you feel yourself climbing, feel the orgasm building low in your belly like a wave you can't outrun.
"Gonna come," you try to say around Satoru's cock, the words muffled and messy, but they understand.
"Not yet," Satoru grits out, pulling back with obvious reluctance, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet sound that makes you whine. "Not yet, princess. Want to feel you. Wantâ"
"Fuck me," you demand, because you're done being patient, done with teasing. "Both of you. Now. Want to feel you together."
They exchange a look, something hot and heavy passing between them, and then they're moving, rearranging you like you're weightless, like you're precious.
Suguru pulls his fingers free and you whimper at the loss, but then he's guiding you onto your side, spooning behind you, and you understand. You want this, have wanted it since you walked through the door and saw them together.
"Ready?" he murmurs against your ear, and you feel him hot and hard against your ass, feel Satoru settling in front of you, guiding your top leg over his hip to open you up.
"Mm," you confirm, and you don't bother with a color check because they know you, know your body, know when to stop and when to push. "Do it. Fill me up. Want to feel you together."
Suguru presses in first, slow and steady, and you moan at the stretch of him, thick and perfect and yours. He doesn't stop until he's fully seated, until you can feel his hips flush against your ass, and then he stills, breathing hard against your neck.
"Good?" he manages, and you nod, nails digging into Satoru's shoulder where you're holding on for dear life.
"More," you demand, looking up at Satoru with what you know is a filthy expression, desperate and demanding and his. "You too. Want both. Want to feel you fucking each other through me."
Satoru's eyes roll back at the words, at the image, and he guides himself to your entrance with shaking hands. You're already full of Suguru, stretched tight around him, and Satoru has to work to press inside, slow and steady, giving you time to adjust to the impossible stretch of them both.
"Fuck," you gasp, head falling back against Suguru's shoulder, and they still, checking, always checking even when they're trembling with the effort of holding back.
"Color," Suguru grits out against your neck.
"Green," you manage, voice wrecked. "Green, fuck, please, moveâ"
They move.
It's uncoordinated at first, too desperate for rhythm, Satoru pulling out as Suguru pushes in, the drag of them against each other through the thin membrane separating them making you see stars. You can feel every inch of them, feel the way they slide together inside you, feel the way they have to adjust to accommodate each other, and it's perfect, it's obscene, it's everything you've ever wanted.
"Fuck," Satoru chants, hips snapping forward, "fuck, fuck, you're so tight, so perfect, can feel him, can feelâ"
"Shut up and fuck me," you gasp, and Suguru laughs, breathless and broken, but he obeys.
They find a rhythm, finally, one pulling out while the other pushes in, never leaving you empty, always keeping you full and stretched and claimed. The sounds they're making are filthy, desperate, the wet slap of skin on skin and the broken moans they can't swallow and the way they keep kissing each other over your shoulder, messy and desperate and theirs.
You watch in the mirror because you can't control yourself, can't look away from the obscene picture you make â sandwiched between them, their cocks sliding in and out of you, their hands on your body claiming and worshipping and loving. You look ruined, look perfect, look like the only thing in the world that matters to them.
"Touch me," you demand, because you're close, so close, and you need- "'toru, touch my clit, I needâ"
He finds you with unerring accuracy, circling your clit with desperate, messy pressure, and you scream, coming apart around them, your cunt clamping down on them both in rhythmic pulses that draw out their own releases.
"Fuck, fuck, I'mâ" Satoru gasps, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a sound like a prayer, and Suguru follows seconds later, groaning your name against your neck as he fills you up, both of them warm and heavy and perfect inside you.
They collapse together, a tangle of limbs and sweat and racing hearts, and you lie between them, boneless, brainless, perfectly ruined.
"Good?" Suguru asks eventually, voice rough, and you hum, too wrecked to form words.
"Words," Satoru reminds you, but he's gentle about it, pressing kisses to your shoulder, your neck, anywhere he can reach.
"Good," you manage. "So fucking good. Love you. Love you both. My perfect boys."
They make soft sounds, agreement and devotion, and Satoru's hand finds yours, interlacing their fingers with yours. Suguru's arm wraps around your waist, holding you close, and you feel them still inside you, warm and heavy and real.
They pull out eventually, gentle and careful, and you whimper at the loss, at the sudden emptiness, at the way their combined releases drip out of you, filthy and theirs. But then they're back, warm washcloth cleaning you up with reverent attention, soft blankets being pulled over your body, two pairs of hands stroking your hair, your back, anywhere they can reach.
"Water," Satoru says, pressing a bottle to your lips, and you drink gratefully, suddenly aware of how thirsty you are.
"Food?" Suguru asks, and you shake your head, burrowing closer to them.
"Later. Just want you. Both of you. Want to feel you holding me."
They settle in around you, Satoru at your back, Suguru at your front, their legs tangled with yours, their hearts beating in time with yours. You feel small between them, protected, loved in a way that makes your chest ache with it.
"Love you," Satoru murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss there, soft and reverent.
"Love you," Suguru echoes, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. "Our perfect girl. Our demanding princess."
"Love you both," you whisper back, and you mean it with everything you are, with every ruined, worshipped, claimed piece of you.
They hold you like that, warm and safe and home, stroking your hair and murmuring praise against your skin until you drift off to sleep between them, sated and loved and exactly where you're meant to be.
A/N. mmmh.. 2nd time writing smut, i hope u guys enjoyed it HIHI <3 yes, another mention for my lovely @ver2xq for helping me while this was still a WIP đ„čđ
Plagiarism not authorized. Do not feed my work to AI. Feel free to req!! <3
synopsis. You dragged Sukuna grocery shopping. He complained the whole time, secretly thrilled you wanted him there. Then a kid grabbed your ass. Sukuna's version of "handling it" involves terrorizing a child and his parent, destroying produce, and reminding you exactly who you belong to. Repeatedly. Thoroughly. Until you forget your own name.
pairing. sukuna x f!reader
content & warnings. dark fluff or domestic fluff w/ horror elements, established relationship (married), "ryo" used as pet name/nickname, possessive behavior, implied sexual content, non-con touching (f!reader groped by minor, handled as assault), marking/biting, emotional vulnerability under aggression, physical roughness (that f!reader, aka, you, consents to and enjoys) <3
word count. 0.9k+
A/N. a short fic i wrote !! decided that this prompt would suit sukuna most. div cred: @suupersonic
You had to drag Sukuna out of the house. Literally. Hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him through the door while he complained with the theatrical sulk of a thousand-year-old curse who'd rather be doing literally anything else.
"Grocery shopping," he sneered, letting you pull him along because he liked the way your hand felt, because he'd follow you into worse places than this. "You're making a King of Curses push a cart through fluorescent lighting. This is humiliation."
"You're being dramatic."
"I'm being accurate." But he didn't let go of your hand. He swung your joined hands between you, obnoxious, attention-seeking, secretly thrilled you wanted him here, secretly storing this away like something precious. "I should be feared. Worshipped. Not..." He gestured at the produce section with genuine disgust. "...comparing the ripeness of avocados."
"You like the avocados!"
"I tolerate the avocados." He picked one up, examined it with the same focus he usually reserved for disemboweling enemies. "This one's overripe. Like the manager of this establishment."
He was still complaining about the lighting when you reached for cereal, and you were half-listening, smiling at his theatrics, when small hands grabbed your ass with the clumsy confidence of a child who hasn't learned boundaries yet.
Sukuna went still.
The avocado in his hand burst. Pulp ran between his fingers, down his wrist, and he didn't even notice. His eyes, all four of them, fixed on the kid with something ancient and terrible and hungry.
The kid looked up. Caught that expression. Started crying instantly, high and terrified, hands finally leaving you.
"Oh," Sukuna said softly. "Now you understand."
"Ryo, don'tâ"
"Shh, darling." He was already moving, dropping the destroyed avocado, crouching with the fluid grace of a predator who'd forgotten he was pretending to be human. "I'm educating."
He reached out with his free hand, still dripping with green flesh, and patted the kid's head with grotesque gentleness. The child flinched. Sukuna's smile widened.
"You touched something that doesn't belong to you," he murmured, voice dropping to a purr that made the overhead lights buzz slightly. "Do you know what I do to people who take what's mine?"
The parent finally noticed, rushing over, indignant until they saw Sukuna's face. Saw the extra eyes. Saw the teeth that shouldn't fit in a human mouth. They stopped. Froze. Made a sound like a small animal in a trap.
"I remove their hands," Sukuna continued, conversational, like he was discussing the weather. "Slowly. Then I remove other things. Sometimes I let them run first, just to make it interesting." He tilted his head, considering the screaming child with academic interest. "You're small. It wouldn't take long. Your parents would watch. They seem like the type who should have been watching better."
He stood, finally, turning to you, and his expression shifted. The mask of cruelty dropped to show something raw underneath, possessive fury mixed with something almost like hurt. "Wife," he said, and his voice was barely human, layered with static and wrongness, "did this thing touch you?"
"Ryo, pleaseâ"
"Answer me."
"Yes."
The sound he made was low, dangerous, vibrating with something that made your bones ache. He turned back to the parent, who was clutching their child, frozen in terror, and Sukuna's smile widened until it was all teeth, all threat, all delight.
"You're lucky," he told them. "She's here. She makes me... soft." He said the word like a curse, like an accusation, like something he resented and cherished in equal measure. "But know this." He stepped close enough that his breath probably smelled like copper and old blood, like temples burning and empires falling. "I know your face now. I know your child's face. And if I ever see either of you again, if I even hear that you've breathed near her, I will find you. I will take my time. And you will understand what it means to be hunted by something that doesn't sleep, doesn't forget, doesn't forgive."
He didn't wait for a response. He took your hand, the one you'd used to drag him here, and pulled you now, out of the store, through the parking lot, his grip tight enough to bruise, tight enough to say mine without words.
At the car, he pushed you against the metal with enough force to dent it, his mouth finding yours with violent hunger, all teeth and desperation and fury.
"You brought me here," he growled against your lips, his hands rough and desperate, mapping your body with violent possession. "You wanted me with you. You chose me, over and over, you keep choosing me, and then you let something else touch you?"
"I didn't letâ"
"Mine." He bit your jaw, your throat, your collarbone, marking, claiming, consuming. His hands slid under your shirt, over your skin, like he was trying to erase every trace of another's presence. "Say it."
"Yours."
"Again."
"Yours, Ryo, I'm yours, I wanted you here, I wantedâ"
He cut you off with a kiss that tasted like blood and fury and something frighteningly close to devotion. When he pulled back, his eyes were still wrong, still terrifying, but his hands had gentled, cradling your face with heartbreaking tenderness.
"Good," he whispered. "Now I'm going to take you home and remind you exactly what that means. Until you forget anyone else exists. Until you forget your own name. Until the only thing you can say is mine."
A/N. if you're wondering where i got this prompt, i got groped in the ass by a kid at the grocery store a few days ago đđ ANYWAYS, ive written multiple versions of this for other characters, tell me if u want em!! đœ
taglist. @feralparagonsamurai , @hllgiw
Plagiarism not authorized. Do not feed my work to AI. Feel free to req!! <3
