Oh. Oh Wow. Mhm. Yep. Gulps.

now playing…

fragile by laufey

↺ |◁ II ▷| ♡

tenko shimura x reader

“mist stop w all of the domestic bliss drabbles!” NO!!!!!! n e ways here’s post rehabilitation tenko :)

cw’s!!: gn! reader, bathing together (nonsexual), not canon compliant!! (he’s in rehab and staying w UR family :]), he is so emotionally constipated i luv him, andddd i think that’s it!! ^.^

wc: 673

“are you sure this is okay?” tenko’s voice is soft from his spot behind you. there’s a quiet sound of the lukewarm — not either of your preferences for temperature, but it was better for his skin — water sloshing when he shifted to hook his chin over your shoulder, his rough cheek lightly brushing against yours.

you know why he’s asking that, but you act oblivious. “it’s late, i’m sure my family doesn’t mind us hogging the bathroom while they’re asleep.” his arms unconsciously tighten around your middle.

“no, like-“ he lets out a small huff, cutting off his own words. it sounds like he’s about to drop the topic altogether just because he can’t find the right words, but he continues. you’re happy he’s learning to grow out of that habit.

“is this okay…? staying here, i mean.”

“tenko, my family really likes you.” he falters.

“i don’t understand how they could…”

“because i love you, so they love you too.”

his lips pull into a small frown at that.

“they can’t just ignore what i’ve done, they’d be stupid to do that.” there’s a lilt of irritation behind his words but you know better than to take it personally.

“they’re not ignoring what you’ve done. they trust you, tenko.” there’s always this annoying adoration in your voice whenever you say his new (old?) name that he has to stop himself from snapping back at. it’s not that he disliked it — not at all — but it just… didn’t make sense to him. it made him feel oblivious, like you were keeping a secret from him despite how vocal your praise always was.

you sigh softly when his brows furrow, your hand coming up to gently smooth out the familiar little wrinkle between them.

“they trust us.” you reiterate.

“well they shouldn’t.”

you raise a brow at that.

“why not?”

his lips pull into an unconscious little pout (a habit you didn’t dare bring to his attention even after all of these years. not out of fear of him getting angry — out of fear of him forcing the small vulnerability away).

“because obviously i’m still evil and you have some sort of weird stockholm syndrome that you refuse to acknowledge.” you have to bite back a laugh at his sudden petulance.

“no, baby, i don’t have any sort of stockholm syndrome.”

“see.” he grumbles, clearly convinced by his own astute observations.

you can’t fight the small snicker that leaves you at that, but you decide to humor him for a moment.

“alright, so i have stockholm syndrome. how exactly are you still evil?”

he thinks on your question for a second.

“i’m mean and antisocial and i dusted your brothers game controller the other day…” your smile grows.

“and i still hate heroes and i-” he continues for a moment only to stop when he sees the widening smile on your face. god, you’re so irritating…

“what?” he grits out, unable to hide the small flush on his face. he’d blame it on the steam from the lukewarm bath later.

“no, nothing.” his eyes narrow in suspicion.

“really, tenko, it’s nothing.” a small laugh laces your words when he continues glaring at you. he doesn’t say anything, expecting you to fold and tell him what’s on your mind with just a look (you would, of course. neither of you were known for having strong resolves against each other).

“it’s just…” you pause, contemplating how to word your thoughts.

“… you’re human, tenko. last time i checked there’s nothing evil about that.”

he pauses, considering your words for a long moment. he’s human. he has preferences and flaws and makes mistakes because he’s human — not because he’s evil. it’s common sense but it still takes him aback for some reason. how irritating.

he brings up his hand from under the water, pressing his wet palm to your cheek to push your face away from his flushed one.

“that’s a stupid thing to say.” is the only thing he says in response. you smile.

“i know.”

now playing…

i love you by billie eilish

↺ |◁ II ▷| ♡

boyfriends bsf! satoru x reader

finallyyyy posting a concept that has been on my brain for months. lord.

cw’s!!: gn! reader, angst (>:3), ur dating suguru so he is the bf in question, andddd this takes place in the canon universe so. do w that what u will :p

wc: 1.3k (whoopssss got carried away ><)

boyfriends bsf! satoru who was in love with you from the moment the two of you met. you were a transfer student, quiet and a little stoic but not rude by any means. if anything, he teased you for being too formal.

boyfriends bsf! satoru who invited you to every group outing, slowly but surely trying to urge you out of your shell. he introduced you to suguru and shoko and you were set from there!

boyfriends bsf! satoru whose face goes beet red the first time he hears you laugh. not a small giggle or an amused scoff — a full, loud laugh at something suguru had said. he didn’t notice how nervous you had seemed while talking to his best friend, he didn’t mind how you only laughed at sugurus jokes like that… he was just happy to be there to witness it for himself.

boyfriends bsf! satoru whose heart drops when you tell him about your crush on suguru. he knew suguru felt the same, he had told satoru not too long after he introduced you to him.

“i’d say to go for it.” satoru finally declares, causing you to raise a suspicious brow. what was his deal? you expected him to have a bigger reaction over this…

he only shrugs at your suspicious look. “just sayin’. what’s the worst that could happen?” he puts on a cocky smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “what, you scared of lil’ sugu?” he leans closer, poking at your side to tease you. he only laughs when you click your tongue and push him away.

boyfriends bsf! satoru who isn’t surprised whatsoever when you and suguru get together a couple weeks later. he starts taking more missions for a while after that.

boyfriends bsf! satoru who’s surprisingly supportive after his “emo funk” (name courtesy of shoko). he even recommends spots for dates (they were all coincidentally catered to your tastes. spots that he had planned to take you… at least they were being put to good use now instead of rotting in his brain).

boyfriends bsf! satoru who bites hard into his tongue or cheek whenever he sees the two of you particularly close during a few of their hangouts. sugurus whispering something in your ear with that lovesick little smile on his face and you’re giggling while watching him with heat in your cheeks and hearts in your eyes.

boyfriends bsf! satoru who has to excuse himself to the bathroom when you and suguru show up late to a hangout with huge smiles and disheveled hair. it was the faint purple mark on the soft skin of your neck that did him in, making bile rise in his throat.

but of course, things change, don’t they? all good things must come to an end.

what goes up must come down.

satoru was the one tasked with telling you about suguru’s defection (“you’re their best friend, satoru. they won’t believe anyone else.” yaga had told him, giving a sympathetic squeeze to the teens shoulder. as if that would fix anything. as if that would fix the way you had gone completely numb at the news when he told you later that day. he had never seen you so lifeless before).

he blocked that out of his memory to the best of his ability.

(ex?) boyfriends bsf! satoru who visits your dorm as much as he can after that. he has to take more missions due to there now being one less special grade sorcerer, but he makes sure to remind shoko to check on you when he’s gone for long periods of time. it’s what suguru would’ve wanted.

(ex?) boyfriends bsf! satoru who doesn’t even sleep in his own dorm anymore. what was the point when you were calling him over every other night because of your nightmares?

(ex?) boyfriends bsf! satoru who’s so gentle while handling you. he helps you wash your hair and brush your teeth and he hand feeds you every meal (to make sure you actually eat the food he brings you) despite your protests that you were fine.

(ex?) boyfriends bsf! satoru who doesn’t say anything when you cuddle up next to him every night the both of you lay down next to each other, he just languidly wraps an arm around your middle and traces patterns over your shirt.

“i miss him.” your words are nothing more than a whisper into satorus clothed chest, but he hears you loud and clear.

his movements halt for a moment and he shifts to pull you closer to his chest. “i know. so do i.” you don’t say anything about the shakiness in his voice.

(ex?) boyfriends bsf! satoru who sees you cry for the first time that night.

(ex?) boyfriends bsf! satoru who gently guides you to look at him so he can wipe away your tears while whispering small comforts until your breathing slows.

your head is back to resting against satorus chest, the only remnants of your previous sobbing being small, hiccuped breaths that were too stubborn to go away.

“what if…” his voice breaks the silence, snapping you out of the faraway expression you were sporting. he searches for what to say. it was strange to see him look so unsure.

“what if he comes back?”

he’s not asking to be cruel, you know he isn’t. you know what he’s really asking though. you don’t have an answer to his unspoken question.

“hey.” he calls out softly when you don’t speak. his volume is the same as before but he sounds more urgent now, like he’s ready to beg for something for the first time in his life.

he takes your face in his palms again, his eyes searching your damp face for anything but the numb expression that had lingered since suguru left.

“you can’t leave.” god, he’s trying so hard to sound firm but his voice cracks when he calls your name. “you can’t follow him, i won’t-… i can’t-“ his eyes narrow like he’s going to snap at you, but the sharp words die on his tongue when his eyes start watering out of frustration.

“i’d have to kill you- both of you-“ he’s desperately trying to reason with you, his palms pressing into your cheeks. “you can’t expect me to do that.” he’s shaking his head now, denying an unspoken (inevitable) fate.

you try to call his name, to reassure him that you weren’t planning on leaving (were you lying to yourself or to him?) but he’s shut you out. he’s still holding you but his teary eyes are unfocused.

and you don’t know whether it’s the heat of the moment or desperation to get him to listen, but your lips are brushing against his before you can even process your own movements.

the touch is featherlight but it’s enough to quiet his racing mind. he sees the conflict in your eyes, the shock at your own actions. he can tell that it wasn’t meant for him, that for a brief moment you saw him instead of satoru. you don’t say anything, though. no frantic apologies, no embarrassed scrambling to pull away from him. you just… stare at him. the same way he’s staring at you.

the kiss wasn’t meant for him, but… can’t he act like it was? what difference would it make if suguru wasn't there to receive your love anyway?

(ex?) boyfriends bsf! satoru who presses his lips against yours in a proper kiss before you can pull away from him. suguru left him to pick up the pieces after his departure and that’s exactly what he was doing. if grief is just love with nowhere to go, satoru would gladly give you somewhere to put that love. it’s what suguru would’ve wanted.

Satoru pulled up a chair and sat in front of you, well, he sat in the chair backwards but was still facing you- how he was sitting wasn't the point.

No, what got you focused was the way he was staring at you.

"Want to play twenty questions?"

The simple question eased your heart a bit, "sure! I'll go first."

Your smile was bright, blinding even.

You thought over a question for a bit before deciding on something simple to start things off. Mentally ticking down a number one as you marked off your first ask.

"What's your favorite color?"

Satoru gaze was lazer focused on you, "Digimon. Do you love me?"

"You know-"

Tomura can't stand when you take that tone. The high, wobbly nature of it means you are about to say something to aggravate him, most likely on purpose. He's always pretty frazzled with the situation without your comments. You are laid out on his tiny bed, pussy freshly eaten, legs spread in wait for him. Tomura wants to be back on you, but he's too busy trying to get this fucking strap to stay on. the side won't tighten and his chosen cock of the evening keeps threatening to fall out right on to the floor.

"What?" he asks with a snit. Sweat is already dotted though his white tank. He shouldn't be doing this in a binder, but he almost likes to way his ribs ache when he breathes in too deeply.

"Never really thought I liked pussy-" You wiggle your knee back and forth, legs opening and closing. "But I'm kinda really into yours."

"Don't say--" Heat runs down the back of his neck. "Why are you even fucking looking at that?"

"You're about to fuck me and I like bush," you say. "And it's kinda hot that you're like, fucking dripping down your legs. I'm just saying, if you ever wanted some 'lip service', I'd be down."

Touch had always disgusted him. The discomfort in his body, the way hands only see to exaggerate the places he hates.

But there's a flicker. A flicker of want when you say that. A tightness in his core that he can't ignore.

Tomura swallows deep. His hands are still fumbling with the strap. "Don't call it that."

"Pussy?"

"Yeah."

You tilt your head in thought for a long moment, then a pointed smile creeps up over your face.

"I really wanna suck your dick, Tomu."

Oh, his body crawls, but this time, it's alive with pleasure. He can practically imagine it, your tongue gliding over his cock, working between his folds, fingering his--

With a final tug, he tightens the strap. The cock is cotton candy blue-- something you had picked out for yourself.

"Get it wet before I fuck you," Tomura says, no confidence in his voice.

When you lazily crawl over and open your mouth, he swears he can actually feel your tongue against the plastic when he closes his eyes.

this is the post that inspired the choso thing btw :3 immediately thought of my cutie patootie angel boy when i saw it

i can’t get over boys saying “thank you” during sex. in response to praise or to pleasure. i just love it.

^HE ALSO CUMS IN UR FOOD. freak.^

i want to make suguru call me daddy. mhmhmhmhmhmhm

love you, love you, love you.

yandere asylum therapist! suguru x reader

my first ever dark content/yandere oneshot aaaaaa!!! plsss thoroughly go through the cw’s before reading ^^;

cw’s!!: non-consensual drugging, mentions of needles/syringes, medical malpractice, descriptions of violence (gutting, beating someone to death, etc.), mentions/romanticization of cannibalism, blood eating, medical abuse (???), gn! reader, no use of y/n, uhhhh freaky suguru. like he’s actually crazy (but so are u) and uhhh i think that’s it?? ^^;

wc: 1.3k (what.)

“how have you been feeling?” your therapists voice is soft, just barely loud enough for you to hear. it’s like he’s trying to grasp at any sense of normalcy, as if any of this was normal. your head feels like it’s filled with cotton when you move to look at him, a deadly look in your dazed, slow-blinking eyes.

he completely disregards your glare with nothing but a growing smirk, shifting to adjust your position on his lap. “i see you’ve taken well to the sedatives.” his cold hand grazes your bare arm as he speaks and you have to resist the urge to use all of the strength you have left to throw yourself onto the floor just to get away from him. you decided against it. you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you like that.

suguru’s a charming man. every nurse, therapist, and criminal in this hellhole of an institution knew that. maybe that’s why he clung to you like this. you saw through him, had threatened to knock his teeth out just because you found his smile unsettling in the preliminary meeting (“a convenient way to find your perfect fit!” is what one of the brochures had read).

a few weeks later he was your primary therapist. the only one allowed to see you for sessions and the only one able to prescribe what medicine you took.

this time it was a strong sedative administered by needle, only given to you the one day a week you saw him for your “sessions”. he seemed to enjoy this one, considering how he hadn’t switched the prescription in almost a month (though you were sure he was upping the dose every week, there was no other explanation for the way the syringe seemed to get more and more full every time you saw the nurses holding it).

it’s only now that he seemed to notice the narrow-eyed expression you were giving him. “aw, don’t look at me like that… it’s for my safety, angel. i can’t have you lashing out and hurting me, can i?” his palm rests on your cheek and as much as you will the muscles in your neck to jerk away from his touch, it still doesn’t work. only a small grunt leaves you and that sound only heightens the amusement in his eyes.

“m’gonna fuckin’ kill you…” you manage to strain out. you despise how weak your voice sounds. you despise the way his eyebrow quirks up in interest in response to your threat. you despise how his voice comes out a low, patronizing purr when he asks “oh, are you?” because he knows you will. he knows that if he lowers your dose you won’t hesitate to hunt him down. he’s seen your files, he knows.

you let out a shaky breath at his words, that deadly glare in your eyes never faltering as your head nods in response to his question (though he’d barely constitute it as a nod, more like a subtle twitch of your muscles). “m’gonna gut you… cut you alllll the way from your bellybutton to your fuckin’ throat…” you can feel the delirium from your medication settling in when you’re halfway through speaking, but that doesn’t stop you.

“how gruesome.” is all he hums, a deep, twisted glint of admiration in his gaze. “you’ve certainly grown more creative.” the pad of his thumb presses into your bottom lip as he speaks. he seems almost satisfied with your violent description, like you’d just given him the greatest gift he could possibly ask for (to him, it was).

he couldn’t help but feel touched by your words, how you planned something particularly torturous just to bring him as much pain as possible. the way you hurt people — at least before you were admitted — was concise and unmeditated. someone made you lose your temper so you hurt them, plain and simple as that. you were only able to plead insanity because of the way you “blacked out”, only noticing the soreness in your arms (and the brain matter in your hair) after you had beat a man to death.

so for you — a patient with uncontrollable violent outbursts — to plan something specific just for him? oh, he could feel the pleasant chill rolling down his spine. how would you do it, suguru wondered. would you steal a scalpel from the nurses or a knife from the kitchen? would the way you cut him open be clean — planned, even — or would you just hack at his skin until you were satisfied? he could almost imagine the way you’d pin him down (not like you had to, he’d let you see his insides if you asked politely enough) and run the cool metal over his abdomen before he felt the sharp contrast of the warmth of his blood trickling down his skin. he could only hope he would be alive long enough to see the crimson tainting the pretty skin of your hands, getting under your nails and sinking into the grooves of your palms, absorbing every drop of him.

suguru was so lost in his fantasies that he didn’t notice the way you had squinted at his far away expression, a muscle in your jaw giving a small twitch. maybe if you…

suguru also didn’t notice the way you had managed to slowly pry your jaw open, the tip of his thumb now resting against the ridges of your bottom row of teeth. at least, he didn’t notice until you miraculously willed your jaw to snap shut, the metallic taste on your tongue bringing you a primal sense of satisfaction (you would’ve preferred to bite the the tip of his thumb clean off to teach him a lesson, but this would do).

and oh, you would’ve laughed in his face if you could when you heard that strangled little gasp leave his lips. you relished in the way he watched you with a dumbfounded look, his usually piercing eyes opened wide in surprise.

your victory was disturbingly short lived, though. his shock quickly turned into something almost giddy with the way his eyes seemed to light up like a child who was just handed their favorite toy. he forced his thumb deeper into your mouth, his head cocking to the side almost observantly. “how do i taste, angel? hm?” there’s a crazed look in his eyes. you feel like you’re getting dissected. “maybe you should eat me after you cut me open, yeah? i’d let you, you have my permission.” he’s all too eager to give you more ideas, more ways to torture him even after death.

his arm snakes around your middle so he can press a palm to your stomach. “i’d be with you forever… wouldn’t you like that, angel?” he murmurs lowly by your ear. you don’t have the strength to answer anymore, your eyes blinking slower… and slower…

he holds you tight as you slump against him, (the sedatives make you intensely drowsy… it doesn’t help that he had prescribed you double the recommended amount) making a mental note to up your dosage once again. he can’t risk you building up some sort of immunity, can he? if the force of your bite was any indication, he’d have to find a new medicine for you within the next month or two (not like it was any hassle on his end. if anything, he was excited to see your adorably pathetic attempts to brute force your way through the daze of a new drug).

he just had to keep you here with him… you’d learn to love it.

to love him.

ovulation makes me want to write evil, evil things. help.

♥︎: fluff ♡: angst ☆: suggestive ★: smut

extras: ☆ ★ ♥︎

maybe one day i’ll properly format my posts. and make a masterlist. and an intro post. and- *loud gunshot*