Now Hol Tf Up. Ur Speaking My Language. I Was Thinking Of Doing The Exact Same Thing. Wait Ur My Stoner

Me reading Chainsaw Man: damn, Fujimoto is so good at writing compelling female characters, how does he do it

Fujimoto: women are evil and scary and they want to cut off my dick

i love you corruption kink. i love you older men who want to take advantage of my naivety and inexperience. i love you men who coo and praise and reassure me when i cum embarrassingly hard from being touched like this for the first time; who laugh and pat my head and tell me that it’s okay, that it’s natural, that that’s exactly what i’m supposed to do. i love you men who want to be the first — and only — reference i have for what sex is supposed to be like. everything i know had to be taught from him, from his hands, from his cock. i love you <3

No nuance

eres mia by romeo santos w suguru. yeah.

Mist i really hate poetry

huh 🧍 WHATD I DO

♡♡♡ Send this to ten other bloggers that you think are wonderful. Keep the game going, make someone smile!!! xoxox ♡♡♡

i'm still blushing over that post you made btw

UGGGGGH UR SO CUTE ILY SO BAD NAE

now playing…

bring me to life by evanescence

↺ |◁ II ▷| ♡

yandere asylum therapist! suguru x reader

the official prequel to this oneshot!!! while it is in the same au, this one (and the other one) can def be read as standalones!!!! ^.^

cw’s!!: descriptions of violence (bashing someone’s skull in, knocking someone’s teeth out), gn! reader, no use of y/n, delusional sugu!!! (the best sugu imo :3), and i think that’s it!!!! ^^

wc: 1.2k :))

one more meeting. one more meeting and you’d finally be done with all of the infuriating hours spent in and out of various psychiatrists offices. one more meeting and then you could go back to your cell and fuck off like you knew the nurses wanted you to (you weren’t stupid, you saw the way the nurses glanced at you through their peripherals. it’s not like it wasn’t for good reason). one more meeting and then you could just choose whichever therapist you vaguely remembered the name of (probably the irritatingly serene one. she was more than willing to talk about herself when you refused to answer any of her questions and she seemed tougher than the others, like she wouldn’t crumble under a few threats from you.)

there were four security guards surrounding you while you walked. it was like a big, blaring alarm. “do not come close.” (as if the loud metal clanking of your restraints and the vibrant red of your jumpsuit wasn’t enough to signify that already).

three of the guards fell back when you made it to the door. the last office was in a strange spot, past all of the cells and a long hallway, all the way in the back of the institution. there was a plaque outside of this door, as if someone important was sitting inside waiting for you (you almost laughed at the thought. flesh can be cut and bones can be broken, can’t they? your status can’t save you from violence).

you barely got to skim over the name on the plaque before the door was open and you were unceremoniously shoved through it, your lips immediately parting to shoot a half-formed threat towards the guard behind you (probably something about bashing his skull in, you didn’t really premeditate your threats before dishing them out)… until you were interrupted.

“now now, is that any way to treat my patient?” the voice that cut in was deep. smooth and warm but not pleasantly so (not like a fireplace or a summers day, but like heated metal running along your skin. so hot that you don’t even register the pain until you’re already burned). there’s a hand on your shoulder before you even realize, the deep voice closer than before. you resist the urge to shudder at the touch.

“why don’t you go sit, hm? i can’t imagine those heavy restraints are comfortable to hold up like that.” you only respond by shouldering his hand off of you and sending the security guard a sharp glare, the metal of your restraints loud when you settle yourself in the chair in front of a large oak desk. you felt like you were at a business meeting rather than a preliminary therapy session.

“i’ll handle it from here.” is all the man says before the last security guard leaves the room. you don’t bother to look at him as he settles himself in the chair across from you.

it’s quiet for a long moment, the only sounds in the room being the soft shuffle of the papers he’s looking through and the ticking of the clock on the wall (god how you wished you could knock it off the wall. it seemed to be getting louder with every incessant tick). you were starting to wonder if he was planning on talking at all (you could only hope. you’d much prefer to sit in silence rather than watch yet another doctor desperately try to get you to answer their questions). your hopes were dashed as soon as they appeared.

“i apologize for the delay, that was rude of me. it’s just been quite a while since i last took a patient, i’m rusty with the procedures.” his voice finally cuts through the silence. you don’t say anything, you don’t even glance up at him. interesting.

“i’m sure you saw my name outside, but it feels rude not to introduce myself anyway. i’m dr. geto, the leading psychiatrist of this institution.” that catches your attention. your eyes are already narrowed in annoyance when you look at him, your brows only furrowing more when you took in his appearance. he was pretty. irritatingly so. you don’t doubt he had every nurse wrapped around his finger just because of that fact.

“you’re the leading psychiatrist? so what, is this some sort of last ditch effort to fix me?” you question, your sharp gaze continuing to watch him through your lashes. you hated how smug his expression was, how those purple eyes seemed to dissect you the moment they had a chance, how he smiled at your cynicism.

“if that’s how you want to think about it, then yes. though i would say that’s quite a pessimistic line of thinking, no?” you don’t say anything, so he continues. “i was the one who requested to see you. i stopped taking patients when i got promoted to this position, but you…” he pauses, considering his words. “your case interested me.” you scoff.

you can tell he’s waiting for you to say something, watching you with that same unsettling smile. you’re caught in a strange sort of staring contest with him, but it only lasts until he says your name.

and that. that’s what makes you snap.

it was nothing more than a soft utterance, something to call your attention back to him… but the way he said it, the way the syllables dripped from his lips like something so nauseatingly sweet while he held that agitating fucking smile on his face… you were convinced he was lucifer himself.

“if you keep smiling at me like that i will knock all of your fucking teeth out, do you understand me?” you lean forward in your seat when he doesn’t respond immediately, your restraints clanking with the movement.

“do you understand me?” you repeat. you’re not loud with your words, not at all. you’re deadly quiet, eyes wide and staring right at him. he manages to school his expression quickly, but you’re perceptive. you catch the flicker of surprise on his face.

he swallows before he speaks, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly with the action (you briefly wonder what it would feel like to cut through it). “… i understand.” his volume matches yours but he can’t hide the slight breathiness in his voice.

his heart is pounding so loudly in his ears he’s almost sure that you can hear it just as clearly as he can (he wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case, at least. he wouldn’t be surprised if you could read his thoughts with the way you were looking at him).

he briefly wondered if you were something divine, something sent down to punish him by seeing right through his facade. something that could see that he deserved to be in those restraints just as much as you did. the thought sends a shiver through him and he averts his gaze (which is only confirmation to him. why else would he be so distraught if not for some sort of divine intervention?)

you both make your own decisions when you’re escorted out of his office a few minutes later.

anyone but him is what you decide.

and he decides that he’s yours.

Corazón Sin Cara

a/n: this is the first thing i’ve posted on tumblr and probably the last unless there’s enough demand 😭 ik the hype for miguel has died down quite a bit but i hope those that are still around like this silly little thing i wrote for funsies :) (srry if he’s ooc :( )

warning(s): mentions of alcohol (no one’s drunk), cursing, anyone can read but written with chubby!reader in mind, mentions of reader wearing dresses and heels but no pronouns used, no use of y/n, nervous miguel lol

Description: A night at the bar with Jess and Peter B., that’s all tonight was supposed to be. But because the multiverse is seemingly always against you, you couldn’t just have a fun, peaceful night without it being ruined by something (or someone). That’s why you found yourself in your current predicament, flustered and stiff as you swayed with the (admittedly attractive) leader of the Spider Society that was usually so cold towards you.

All you could feel were his hands on your waist, his skin warm even through the fabric of the dress you wore. Peter B. and Jess watched from the sidelines, idly chatting by the bar with smug looks on their faces. You sent them glare from across the room which only caused Peter to snicker and whisper something behind his hand and for Jess to send you a teasing wink. You heard a whistle from your dance partner, his index finger tapping your waist to grab your attention.

“Lost you there for a second.” Miguel’s head tilted slightly as he spoke, a small smile gracing his lips. “Oh- Uh- Yeah, sorry…” You stammered as you shook your head to snap yourself out of your stupor. Honestly, you couldn’t recall how you got into this situation. All you remembered was nursing a drink or two before being swooped away by strong hands, not even able to protest after he muttered a demand for you to dance with him just loud enough for you to hear.

From what you understood, Peter planned these outings sometimes in an attempt to have a “bonding experience” with others in the society. While the notion was sweet, schedule clashes and many other factors tended to leave only the small group you were with now. Miguel was an unexpected addition, half-jokingly invited by Peter in one of the many one-sided “conversations” they tended to have. No one actually expected him to show up, hands stuffed in the pockets of his slacks as he deadpanned at Peter’s overly enthusiastic greeting. He barely spared you a glance, giving you half-assed wave before almost immediately ordering a drink.

You scowled at the lack of acknowledgment, bitterly taking a sip of the drink you had ordered earlier to get the sour taste of his disdain out of your mouth. Sure, he may not have said anything to Peter, but he chose to be around him. Miguel avoided you like the plague, always making up some lame excuse to leave the room whenever you two coincidentally had a moment alone. When you confided in Jess and Peter with your complaints, they simply gave each other a knowing look before shrugging dismissively and waving off your concerns.

You felt left out, like some inside joke was being made and your gut was telling you that you were the subject of it. No matter how hard you tried, you could never decipher that look that they gave each other.

But your current predicament was a direct contrast to his previous behavior. His big hands were soft against the plushness of your waist, it was as if he was afraid of breaking you. You could smell the hints of alcohol on his breath when he got close enough, but he was still very much conscious of everything he was doing, which only confused you more. Why would he be consciously dancing with you when he can’t even stand to be in a room with you? Is he just trying to fuck with you?

Even though you both were just lazily swaying to the song playing over the speakers of the bar, you were stiff. You didn’t know where to put your hands and you were avoiding direct eye contact with him, seemingly finding the empty tables over his shoulder more interesting than Miguel himself. You heard him let out a short, breathy laugh before his hands gently guided your arms to rest on his shoulders. Goosebumps riddled your skin as his fingers ghosted over your forearm before moving back to your waist. The new positioning only brought your faces a couple of inches closer, but with the way your face heated up you may as well have been cheek-to-cheek.

You were quiet for a moment until the song you were swaying to changed, a vaguely recognizable bachata melody playing over the speakers. Miguel visibly perked up at this, looking down at you as if he was waiting for you to say something. “What?” You asked with furrowed brows, narrowing your eyes in suspicion at the look he gave you. He shrugged in response, answering your question with a question of his own. “You know this song?” It was your turn to shrug. “From family parties, mostly. I don’t even know the name of it or what it means but I’ve listened to it too many times to count.” He raised an eyebrow at your explanation and let out a small hum, nodding in response to your words.

“I’ll lead.” He murmured, his gaze flitting around different points on your face, taking in every curve of your cheek, every eyelash that fluttered up at him, every wrinkle of your skin as you gave him that pretty, confused look he loved so much. “Here, let me just…” His voice trailed off and his hands pulled you in by your waist, his knee slotting in between your thighs. You didn’t say anything, the way his body pressed against yours and how his lips were so close rendered you completely speechless. You gave him your warmed cheek, eyes fixed on a nearby wall as he led the steps of your dance.

You were quite rusty, so it took you a moment to remember the steps to the dance. His proximity definitely didn’t help either. But before long your hips were moving to the beat of the music as well as they could in your tense and flustered state. You felt him lean down, his soft breaths fanning along the shell of your ear as his hands moved to rest on your swaying hips. “‘And if you’re fat or skinny, none of this matters to me.’” You turned your gaze back to him at his murmured words, a perplexed expression on your face. “Excuse m-” He shushed you softly, effectively cutting off your words.

He was quiet for a moment, his brows furrowing in concentration. “‘And I am not perfect either, all I know is that I want you the way you are.’” You stared up at him with pinched brows, your lips twitching into a scowl. He was starting to piss you off. He snickered at your expression, giving your hips a small squeeze. “Just translating the lyrics, you said you don’t know what the song is about.” He explained, trying to stifle a small smile in fear of annoying you more than he already was.

It didn’t work.

You stopped moving, pulling away from him but keeping your hands resting on his broad shoulders. “What the fuck is your problem?” You asked suddenly, brows furrowed in confusion and frustration. You reveled in the way his eyes widened in shock and how a nervous flush crept up his neck. “Wh-what do you-” “You know damn well what I mean, Miguel. You avoid me for no reason but you’re pressed up against me the second you get some drinks in you.” You huffed frustratedly, eyes searching his face. The flush had made its way to his face and he avoided direct eye contact with you, his eyes darting around every feature of your face other than your eyes. You pulled away from him completely, crossing your arms over your chest as you watched him expectantly for his explanation.

He stood quiet and you scoffed, pressing your tongue against your cheek. “Can you at least have the decency look at me when I’m talking to you? Or do you not respect me that much?” His eyes widened and locked on yours at those words, his head shaking in disagreement. “No, that’s not what- It’s not because I don’t respect you…” He trailed off. He sounded desperate, like what you suggested was so outlandish he had to put a stop to that train of thought the second the words left your lips. “Then what is it, Miguel?” Your arms stood crossed over your chest as your heel-clad foot tapped against the hardwood floor of the bar impatiently.

God, he hoped he didn’t fuck this up.

“You just…” He cut himself off, sighing deeply and squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to ground himself and will away the heat lingering on his skin. “You make me nervous. So nervous.” Your eyes narrowed at his vague explanation and you stood silent, a wordless way of telling him to continue. “I-I can’t explain it, you’ve been stuck in my head, it’s so frustrating.” He ran his hands through his hair with an exasperated huff. “Your laugh, your face, it’s all so annoying… but I can’t get enough of you. I hate feeling like this.” He rambled.

Your eyes were wide when he finished speaking. It felt like the world had gone silent, all of the music and low murmurs of the people around you fading into silence, leaving only the two of you. You suddenly broke the silence with a soft, unsure laugh that slowly escalated until you were gripping the sides your stomach in genuine amusement at the situation. He let out a few tense laughs, an embarrassed flush on his face. “So…” Another laugh cut you off before you took in a deep breath in an attempt to stave off the giggles that were about to escape you again. “So instead of just asking me out, you decided to avoid me? And then what? The feelings would just go away?” You teased, a bright smile still on your face as you continued huffing out quiet laughs. He looked away from you with a pout, shrugging in response to your question. His response only made you laugh more.

“I thought you hated me.” You sighed after finally calming down from your laughing fit. “… I could never hate you…” He murmured after a moment, his face still turned away from you. You crinkled your nose at his words, shaking your head softly as you moved towards him again. “That was really cheesy but… sweet, I guess.” You shrugged with a small laugh, snaking your arms around his neck. He startled slightly at the contact but rested his hands on your waist.

“So… anything you have to say to me?” You mused, lightly tapping his nape with your fingers to get him to look at you. “Sorry for ignoring you…” He murmured begrudgingly, a stubborn scowl on his face. A smug smile spread across your cheeks. “Oh, that was cute.” You cooed teasingly. “But no. I was thinking more ‘Will you go on a date with me so I don’t have to pathetically avoid you anymore?’” You deepened your voice, mocking his tone with a small laugh. He rolled his eyes at your antics, attempting to stifle a small smile. “Okay, okay, I get it, I was being ridiculous.” “Understatement.” You murmured.

You watched his face as he filtered through many, many different emotions before he finally sighed in defeat. “Will you…” “Yes.” You answered quickly with a stifled smile. Miguel chuckled after his initial surprise. “Friday at seven?” You smiled. “Friday at seven.”

was just thinking (and got all flustered and extremely giddy about it) of how Suguru "subtly" croons away a "pestering" clerk (who, mind you, was simply just doing his job.....and perhaps had a keen eye for you, who thought your were gorgeous and single and Suguru is very perceptive of these things really and that is such a turn on.....) who tries to help try on some shoes you had picked out.

but Suguru wasn't having it. he wasn't too fond of some other man trying to weasel his way onto his stunning wife. so he does what he thought was the most crucial and logical thing to do. looms over the guy with a piercing death stare and shoves him out of the way with a ticking pulled smile on his face.

"I'm sorry I took so long my love, here, let me help you" and he just nudges his way past the gawking clerk, watching the way your adoring, tender husband, gets on one knee before you and begins to sensually remove your current shoes off with the new one that had caught your eye. languid, warm supple fingers diligently trace up and down along the slope of your smooth leg as he peers over his right shoulder to a shifting clerk, now clearly uncomfortable and nervous. clearly walking away from the intimate display between husband and wife.

you would roll your pretty eyes with a low scoff, carding your left hand through the soften tresses of obsidian, making him look up at you with a knowing glare.

"Really Suguru? felt threatened about a shoe clerk?" you would mock, feeling him turn into your hand and delicately kiss your wrist, trailing his soften eyes back onto yours with a cheeky smile.

"Threatened? never. simply giving him obvious signs that you are my beautiful, faithful wife? yes" you chuckle lightly, tenderly biting your lower lip as you feel his hands finally lace up the last strap of the heel on your leg and gradually smooth upward to your upper thigh.

"You're so lucky I find you sooo undeniably attractive when you show me off to others that I'm yours, Sugu" you halt his sly motions with the tip of your heeled toes against his lap, nudging close in between his legs. he simply shimmies a subtle shaky chortle, imminent eye contact still lingered onto you with a daring look.

i feel like suguru never broke the habit of eating candy/drinking soda after eating curses.

like even as an adult with all the cult leader stuff, he still always carried around small candies or lollipops to stave off the nasty taste after eating a curse. especially after you came into his life.

it felt strange to eat a curse only to kiss you with those same lips without something to cleanse his palette. he didn’t want to associate the bitter taste of a curse with your lips, he’d much rather associate them with something sickly sweet.

the sound of crinkling wrappers and soft crunching had become customary, a sort of white noise after suguru had ingested a curse. he always, always leaned in for a kiss after, slipping his dyed tongue into your mouth as you hummed at the sweet flavor laving over your tastebuds, even playfully trying to guess the flavor from the remnants of the sugary treat.

that’s why you watched him expectantly as he finished the remnants of his lollipop, his tongue mindlessly fiddling with the stick for a moment before throwing it away. he raised an eyebrow when he noticed your stare, a smirk gracing his lips.

“is there something on my face?” he sounded too smug to be clueless. you only shook your head in response, that same wide eyed, expectant gaze fixed on his face.

he broke sooner than he would’ve liked, clicking his tongue with a small “c’mere.” he fought back a smile when you came closer, cupping your face in his hands before pressing his lips to yours in a heated kiss. you pulled him closer, a small gasp leaving him when you sucked on his tongue softly before pulling away completely with a thoughtful hum.

“is it peach?”

he gave you an incredulous look, a small laugh leaving him at your words. god, you were going to be the death of him.

(you were right.)