Can U Do A Short Blurb On Another Pet Play N Dimbfication With Suguru N Reader Some Day…the One You

New Tomura Shigaraki art from Horikoshi!!!

toji x gn!reader

watching toji cut fruit for you. it's clumsy and rather messy. he isn't familiar with it, dealing with the soft pliant flesh of the ripened fruit but still his comfortably and skill when handling a knife shines through.

jucies from the fresh fruit run down his hands and his wrists. some making it further down to his forearms following the trail marked by the prominent veins there. sweet sticky refreshing liquid coating his skin and leaving a pretty gleam for the light reflect on.

he places the little cut pieces of fruit on a pretty tray for you to eat, but at the moment, your focus is somewhere else entirely.

toji looks so enticing. reflection of the suns rays bouncing the planes of his wide back and strong shoulders. the shirt he's wearing, although mean to fit loosely comfortably hugs his big plush chest (why does he bother with one at all? you never know) his hair isn't particularly neat either but that's part of tojis appeal. he isn't neat. he's rough around the edges, sharp and cutting. all scars and all the calluses. honest. he can't lie about who he is, his body is proof.

the edges soften up around you, transforming to something kinder. something gentle. they don't disappear, they morph. the humble kitchen knife he's now using to prepare fruit for you could cut down countless others. the strong hands glazed and dripping in the sugary juices of fresh fruit have been covered in the warm metallic blood of others.

toji loves you. his thick arms wrap around you gently, hilding you, cradling you. around you his voice softens, deep and adoring. his steps are heavier, there is no need to sneak around toji walks comfortably when you're near. he breathes easy. muscles loosening and his words tender. heartfelt.

abandoning your place on the place you'd been sitting, you move to sit in his lap, keeping him there. a pretty arrangement of cut fruit on the platter sits before you both. this is too precious a moment to end so soon, you'll drag it out as long as you can.

toji raises a brow at you, "get off kid. need to wash my hands."

"toji."

???

"that's ridiculous. why do you think i'm here??"

you say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, like him wanting to wash his hands of the fruit was an insult targeting you (it was)

you lightheartedly roll yours eyes at the face he makes and take his hands to your mouth. lapping up the jucies coating his skin. you bring two of his rough girthy fingers to your lips to suck at them. your eyes closed in bliss as you work your way through the rest of his fingers.

the sweetness of the fruit hits your tongue, accompanied by a gentle kiss of tojis flavour.

he says nothing as you do. this is bold. the boldest you've ever been with him as of yet. it new but not unwelcome. he gawks at you in awe. you look delighted, like you've just gotten a taste of all the heavens in a singular bite. (singular suck?)

you're so satisfied and toji is parched.

sitting pretty in his lap and licking the remains off your lips. a vixen not even bothering with feigned innocence. you're eyes remain on his temping, teasing. you're as good as this game as he.

you're better.

content with his reaction, you turn to the platter of mixed fruits, tapping your chin in contemplation until you eventually settle on one of the big red strawberries. plucking it from the rest of arrangement, you bring it to tojis lips.

"open up toji, go ahhh"

he looks at you with mild amusement his eyebrow raised in entertainment, oh the things toji lets you get away with. a big cat, laid back and lax, allowing you to do as you please. a killer to others and a lover to you.

he bites into the beautiful fruit, nearly the whole thing is gone with one bite. pausing mid bite, you watch as his eyes go from being half lidded as he observes you to blown wide. bright and alive.

it's a good fucking strawberry.

"good huh." you watch him knowingly, licking the juice at the tips of your fingers. mhm, it's muffled, still holding the fruit in his mouth and chewing slow. he doesn't want it to end so soon.

toji is on cloud nine until you decide to snap him out of it with your next remark, "i think it might even be better than sex."

you don't mean that.

rather than getting upset about it, toji nods and swallows. "you know, it just might be, mama." the moment is kind and intimate, his hands holding your soft hips, the tender flesh filling the spaces between his fingers.

toji brings you closer to him, your full weight on his lap and head resting on his plush firm chest, your pretty body held in his arms as you feed him the fruits of his labour (literally).

spring is the loveliest of seasons.

now playing…

angel by massive attack

↺ |◁ II ▷| ♡

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.

ITS PURPLE

dyeing my hair purple today :p

Not everything needs old woman Yuri in it

You're like a terrorist to me

now playing…

baby, my phone!! by yameii online

↺ |◁ II ▷| ♡

college student! tenko shimura x popular! reader

my first ever smau aaaaa!!! this is a quirk-free college au teehee (for my sanity pls note each of these conversations take place like days/weeks apart. pls.)

pt 2!!

cw’s!!: one or two kys/die jokes, dry texter tenko (i luv him), gn! reader, and the fastest burn you’ve ever seen (i have no patience)

i hate working in fast food like yesss king talk to me like im a dog and treat me like shit as i think abt how i can’t make rent this month. or abt how groceries are out of the question. or my silent prayer that i don’t have two consecutive days off bc not eating for days in a row is rlly getting to me. but yea ill hurry up and get ur food i understand that ppl w “real jobs” are busy!!

i hope u know this reached me during the final prayer. ur the temptation they warned against.

Mist my dear, you must understand that all of this MUST be done. Imagine a world without mommy sugu. Now, wouldn't that be devastating

i have. such good news!! ^^ u guys will see it later this evening hehehehehehe

my current wip teehee i hope yall like medical malpractice!!!! ^^ (and delusional yandere suguru!!!!!)

mdni :p

choso thanking u when he cums in ur pussy….. he’s all whiny and flushed, unshed tears stinging his eyes as he thrusts into you. he’s gripping at whatever part of your body he could get to, your tits, your tummy, your thighs — his brain can’t decide what to do with his hands even while he’s in the throes of pleasure. it was cute, you would’ve teased him about it if you weren’t in the same state as him.

“fuck, i’m gonna-” his breath hitches and cuts him off, though you knew what he meant. you could feel him about to pull out and let out a whine of protest, wrapping your legs around his waist so he stopped moving. he looked at you with a confused expression, looking almost akin to a puppy with the way he cocked his head to the side slightly.

his eyes widened when you begged him to cum inside of you in that pretty voice of yours. how could he ever refuse you?

suddenly your knees are being pressed to your chest and his thrusts become more erratic, desperately chasing his high so he can do what you asked. he’s babbling almost incoherently, completely pussydrunk. “fuck- thank you, baby, thank you so much… gonna fill you up so good, i promise.”

he hides his face in your neck when he cums, whispering thank you’s into your skin like a mantra. he stays like that for a second, his weight a pleasant warmth as he slumps against you while recovering from his high.

“can i… can i do that again? please?” his voice is so soft. tentative, as if he was afraid of you rejecting him. you only nod in response, still catching your breath from the last round.

how could you ever say no when he was so polite?