Your personal Tumblr journey starts here
<prev Tags - Blog Posts
“you don’t believe that sex is the most intimate thing that two can do together?” you repeat sukuna’s previous words with a raised eyebrow, skepticism lacing every word you spoke.
“i had concubines before i was devoted to you. do you really think i see intercourse as something significant?” he doesn’t even spare you a glance, all four of his eyes focused on carefully peeling the fruits resting in the bowl in front of him (mangoes, to be specific. a special order he put in with uraume for you). your eyes narrow at his words.
“so you don’t see intercourse with me as something significant?” that earns you a roll of his eyes.
“i don’t recall those words leaving my lips, woman.” he glances at you with a bored look, already much too used to your antics and the nonsensical conclusions you often pulled from his words (“it’s called reading in between the lines, ryo.” you had insisted. he chose not to debate you on it).
he sighs when you go silent, seemingly waiting for an explanation from him that would fix the small pout gracing your lips. he would’ve let you sulk if you were anybody else, but you weren’t.
“i realize the significance humans place on it now that i am yours, but i partook in the act purely for pleasure before you. it was simply to fulfill my fleshly desires.” he doesn’t need to look at you to know that the frown on your face still hasn’t faltered. in fact, the displeased look on your face probably only deepened upon the mention of him being intimate with other women.
“human customs are foolish, that will never change.” his hand lifts to your lips, a cube of mango held delicately between his fingers. he continues speaking only after feeding you the fruit.
“but if my stubborn little wife sees it as something of importance, then it shall be so.” he says the last part with a sense of finality, as if it was a part of his life that he accepted a long, long time ago.
you contemplate his words for a moment, your posture easing against the lavish pillows of your shared bed. you stall on swallowing the piece of fruit on your tongue, considering a question in that ever curious mind of yours.
“what’s significant to you, ryo?”
he pauses for a brief moment but doesn’t answer, simply bringing another piece of fruit up to your lips (whether the action was out of care or to keep your mouth occupied was unclear).
his lack of an answer was as good of an answer as any, though.
this was significant to him. the way he cut and fed you soft fruit with hands that had slaughtered armies, handling you as if you were made of fine china. never yelling, never arguing.
the king of curses devoted himself to you because deep in his heart he acknowledged his subservience to you.
that is what’s significant to him.
“you don’t believe that sex is the most intimate thing that two can do together?” you repeat sukuna’s previous words with a raised eyebrow, skepticism lacing every word you spoke.
“i had concubines before i was devoted to you. do you really think i see intercourse as something significant?” he doesn’t even spare you a glance, all four of his eyes focused on carefully peeling the fruits resting in the bowl in front of him (mangoes, to be specific. a special order he put in with uraume for you). your eyes narrow at his words.
“so you don’t see intercourse with me as something significant?” that earns you a roll of his eyes.
“i don’t recall those words leaving my lips, woman.” he glances at you with a bored look, already much too used to your antics and the nonsensical conclusions you often pulled from his words (“it’s called reading in between the lines, ryo.” you had insisted. he chose not to debate you on it).
he sighs when you go silent, seemingly waiting for an explanation from him that would fix the small pout gracing your lips. he would’ve let you sulk if you were anybody else, but you weren’t.
“i realize the significance humans place on it now that i am yours, but i partook in the act purely for pleasure before you. it was simply to fulfill my fleshly desires.” he doesn’t need to look at you to know that the frown on your face still hasn’t faltered. in fact, the displeased look on your face probably only deepened upon the mention of him being intimate with other women.
“human customs are foolish, that will never change.” his hand lifts to your lips, a cube of mango held delicately between his fingers. he continues speaking only after feeding you the fruit.
“but if my stubborn little wife sees it as something of importance, then it shall be so.” he says the last part with a sense of finality, as if it was a part of his life that he accepted a long, long time ago.
you contemplate his words for a moment, your posture easing against the lavish pillows of your shared bed. you stall on swallowing the piece of fruit on your tongue, considering a question in that ever curious mind of yours.
“what’s significant to you, ryo?”
he pauses for a brief moment but doesn’t answer, simply bringing another piece of fruit up to your lips (whether the action was out of care or to keep your mouth occupied was unclear).
his lack of an answer was as good of an answer as any, though.
this was significant to him. the way he cut and fed you soft fruit with hands that had slaughtered armies, handling you as if you were made of fine china. never yelling, never arguing.
the king of curses devoted himself to you because deep in his heart he acknowledged his subservience to you.
that is what’s significant to him.
“you don’t believe that sex is the most intimate thing that two can do together?” you repeat sukuna’s previous words with a raised eyebrow, skepticism lacing every word you spoke.
“i had concubines before i was devoted to you. do you really think i see intercourse as something significant?” he doesn’t even spare you a glance, all four of his eyes focused on carefully peeling the fruits resting in the bowl in front of him (mangoes, to be specific. a special order he put in with uraume for you). your eyes narrow at his words.
“so you don’t see intercourse with me as something significant?” that earns you a roll of his eyes.
“i don’t recall those words leaving my lips, woman.” he glances at you with a bored look, already much too used to your antics and the nonsensical conclusions you often pulled from his words (“it’s called reading in between the lines, ryo.” you had insisted. he chose not to debate you on it).
he sighs when you go silent, seemingly waiting for an explanation from him that would fix the small pout gracing your lips. he would’ve let you sulk if you were anybody else, but you weren’t.
“i realize the significance humans place on it now that i am yours, but i partook in the act purely for pleasure before you. it was simply to fulfill my fleshly desires.” he doesn’t need to look at you to know that the frown on your face still hasn’t faltered. in fact, the displeased look on your face probably only deepened upon the mention of him being intimate with other women.
“human customs are foolish, that will never change.” his hand lifts to your lips, a cube of mango held delicately between his fingers. he continues speaking only after feeding you the fruit.
“but if my stubborn little wife sees it as something of importance, then it shall be so.” he says the last part with a sense of finality, as if it was a part of his life that he accepted a long, long time ago.
you contemplate his words for a moment, your posture easing against the lavish pillows of your shared bed. you stall on swallowing the piece of fruit on your tongue, considering a question in that ever curious mind of yours.
“what’s significant to you, ryo?”
he pauses for a brief moment but doesn’t answer, simply bringing another piece of fruit up to your lips (whether the action was out of care or to keep your mouth occupied was unclear).
his lack of an answer was as good of an answer as any, though.
this was significant to him. the way he cut and fed you soft fruit with hands that had slaughtered armies, handling you as if you were made of fine china. never yelling, never arguing.
the king of curses devoted himself to you because deep in his heart he acknowledged his subservience to you.
that is what’s significant to him.
“you don’t believe that sex is the most intimate thing that two can do together?” you repeat sukuna’s previous words with a raised eyebrow, skepticism lacing every word you spoke.
“i had concubines before i was devoted to you. do you really think i see intercourse as something significant?” he doesn’t even spare you a glance, all four of his eyes focused on carefully peeling the fruits resting in the bowl in front of him (mangoes, to be specific. a special order he put in with uraume for you). your eyes narrow at his words.
“so you don’t see intercourse with me as something significant?” that earns you a roll of his eyes.
“i don’t recall those words leaving my lips, woman.” he glances at you with a bored look, already much too used to your antics and the nonsensical conclusions you often pulled from his words (“it’s called reading in between the lines, ryo.” you had insisted. he chose not to debate you on it).
he sighs when you go silent, seemingly waiting for an explanation from him that would fix the small pout gracing your lips. he would’ve let you sulk if you were anybody else, but you weren’t.
“i realize the significance humans place on it now that i am yours, but i partook in the act purely for pleasure before you. it was simply to fulfill my fleshly desires.” he doesn’t need to look at you to know that the frown on your face still hasn’t faltered. in fact, the displeased look on your face probably only deepened upon the mention of him being intimate with other women.
“human customs are foolish, that will never change.” his hand lifts to your lips, a cube of mango held delicately between his fingers. he continues speaking only after feeding you the fruit.
“but if my stubborn little wife sees it as something of importance, then it shall be so.” he says the last part with a sense of finality, as if it was a part of his life that he accepted a long, long time ago.
you contemplate his words for a moment, your posture easing against the lavish pillows of your shared bed. you stall on swallowing the piece of fruit on your tongue, considering a question in that ever curious mind of yours.
“what’s significant to you, ryo?”
he pauses for a brief moment but doesn’t answer, simply bringing another piece of fruit up to your lips (whether the action was out of care or to keep your mouth occupied was unclear).
his lack of an answer was as good of an answer as any, though.
this was significant to him. the way he cut and fed you soft fruit with hands that had slaughtered armies, handling you as if you were made of fine china. never yelling, never arguing.
the king of curses devoted himself to you because deep in his heart he acknowledged his subservience to you.
that is what’s significant to him.
someone needs to arrest mist. matching someone's freak this well can't be legal
mdni!!! (≧∀≦)
UMMMMM UHHHHHHH BLAME THIS ON THIS POST AND VALE I DIDNT DO ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!
cw’s!!: light(?) petplay (sugu calls u puppy + clicker trains u hehe), very very light dacryphilia, gn! reader (no specific parts mentioned other than the fact that ur bottoming!!), husband sugu…. the loml……..
wc: 792 :3
it started off as something silly! “for positive reinforcement.” suguru had explained simply when you narrowed your eyes at his initial mention of the idea. even after that (very poor) explanation, you still weren’t completely convinced.
“i’m just worried about you, my love. we’ve exhausted every option, haven’t we? why not try something unconventional?” and you would’ve refused once again, but ohhh, the way he wrapped his arms around your waist as he spoke… he was only worried for your wellbeing, after all…
he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head after your reluctant agreement.
and honestly? it wasn’t that bad at first! you had honestly thought that he forgot about the whole thing after a week of radio silence on the topic.
it wasn’t until he got home from a full day of errands that it was brought up again.
“did you eat, pretty?” he asked softly after pressing a peck to your lips in greeting. as soon as you let out a small hum of affirmation, there was a distinct sound coming from your husbands pocket that made your eyes narrow in suspicion.
two distinct clicks.
it took you a second to realize what it was, but an annoyed huff left you when you saw the smug look on his face. fucking bastard…
“good job, puppy.” you could only push him away as he laughed and heat rose to your cheeks.
it became almost routine after that. yes, you did huff and pout a couple of times after that initial instance, but you were used to the clicker after the first week. it was the same routine every time — you did something to take care of yourself, you got two clicks and a small praise from him.
and maybe… after a while… you found yourself purposefully taking care of yourself just so he could praise you… (you weren’t very good at hiding it, he saw the way your perked up expectantly whenever you told him about something good that you did.)
the thing is: if this whole arrangement started off as an experiment, why was the small, plastic device resting in his palm while you were struggling to sink onto his cock?
“c’mon pup, you got it...” his free hand is squeezing at your hip, the pads of his fingers digging into the soft skin there (it’d probably bruise later, but that’s the last thing on your mind at the moment).
“stop-… stop callin’ me that…” your voice comes out much whinier than you would’ve liked, but who could blame you? it was always so hard to take him in this position.
your bottom lip is in a small pout and wobbling slightly in frustration, your watery eyes fixed on where you and suguru meet. he stays quiet, running his hands over your skin in a comforting gesture to ease some of the tension in your muscles (it works, of course. his touch always brought you an unexplainable sort of comfort.)
you finally take all of him a few minutes later with a small, whimpered curse, the building tears in your eyes finally rolling down your cheeks when you feel the tip of his cock nudge right against that spot inside of you.
click click!
“thaaat’s it, puppy… fuck-“ a winded sort of chuckle leaves him. “— squeezed so tight when i used the clicker… you like it that much?” his hips twitch up into you involuntarily, making a strangled little whimper leave you against your will as you shake your head adamantly in denial.
“no? i must’ve been imagining things, then.” he breathes, finally starting the slow rock of his hips (of course he’d never let you do any of the work on your own!)
even so, your hips move to meet his motions while small, punched out moans escape your lips.
“there you go, puppy…” he groans softly. “takin’ me so well, so good f’me.” he’s practically babbling out praises at this point and as much as you wanted to deny it, the annoying little nickname he gave you was getting you close embarrassingly fast.
and fuck, the final thing that does you in are the godforsaken two clicks! that your brain had seemed to be specifically searching for.
his eyes are wide as he watches you unravel on top of him, the small whimpers leaving you only further confirming your puppy-like nature to your husband.
“did you just-” “shut up.” your voice is weak with embarrassment and your orgasm, but he’s quick to listen despite that.
he silently hopes he could train you to do that every time he used the clicker. how fun would that be?
mdni!!! (≧∀≦)
UMMMMM UHHHHHHH BLAME THIS ON THIS POST AND VALE I DIDNT DO ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!
cw’s!!: light(?) petplay (sugu calls u puppy + clicker trains u hehe), very very light dacryphilia, gn! reader (no specific parts mentioned other than the fact that ur bottoming!!), husband sugu…. the loml……..
wc: 792 :3
it started off as something silly! “for positive reinforcement.” suguru had explained simply when you narrowed your eyes at his initial mention of the idea. even after that (very poor) explanation, you still weren’t completely convinced.
“i’m just worried about you, my love. we’ve exhausted every option, haven’t we? why not try something unconventional?” and you would’ve refused once again, but ohhh, the way he wrapped his arms around your waist as he spoke… he was only worried for your wellbeing, after all…
he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head after your reluctant agreement.
and honestly? it wasn’t that bad at first! you had honestly thought that he forgot about the whole thing after a week of radio silence on the topic.
it wasn’t until he got home from a full day of errands that it was brought up again.
“did you eat, pretty?” he asked softly after pressing a peck to your lips in greeting. as soon as you let out a small hum of affirmation, there was a distinct sound coming from your husbands pocket that made your eyes narrow in suspicion.
two distinct clicks.
it took you a second to realize what it was, but an annoyed huff left you when you saw the smug look on his face. fucking bastard…
“good job, puppy.” you could only push him away as he laughed and heat rose to your cheeks.
it became almost routine after that. yes, you did huff and pout a couple of times after that initial instance, but you were used to the clicker after the first week. it was the same routine every time — you did something to take care of yourself, you got two clicks and a small praise from him.
and maybe… after a while… you found yourself purposefully taking care of yourself just so he could praise you… (you weren’t very good at hiding it, he saw the way your perked up expectantly whenever you told him about something good that you did.)
the thing is: if this whole arrangement started off as an experiment, why was the small, plastic device resting in his palm while you were struggling to sink onto his cock?
“c’mon pup, you got it...” his free hand is squeezing at your hip, the pads of his fingers digging into the soft skin there (it’d probably bruise later, but that’s the last thing on your mind at the moment).
“stop-… stop callin’ me that…” your voice comes out much whinier than you would’ve liked, but who could blame you? it was always so hard to take him in this position.
your bottom lip is in a small pout and wobbling slightly in frustration, your watery eyes fixed on where you and suguru meet. he stays quiet, running his hands over your skin in a comforting gesture to ease some of the tension in your muscles (it works, of course. his touch always brought you an unexplainable sort of comfort.)
you finally take all of him a few minutes later with a small, whimpered curse, the building tears in your eyes finally rolling down your cheeks when you feel the tip of his cock nudge right against that spot inside of you.
click click!
“thaaat’s it, puppy… fuck-“ a winded sort of chuckle leaves him. “— squeezed so tight when i used the clicker… you like it that much?” his hips twitch up into you involuntarily, making a strangled little whimper leave you against your will as you shake your head adamantly in denial.
“no? i must’ve been imagining things, then.” he breathes, finally starting the slow rock of his hips (of course he’d never let you do any of the work on your own!)
even so, your hips move to meet his motions while small, punched out moans escape your lips.
“there you go, puppy…” he groans softly. “takin’ me so well, so good f’me.” he’s practically babbling out praises at this point and as much as you wanted to deny it, the annoying little nickname he gave you was getting you close embarrassingly fast.
and fuck, the final thing that does you in are the godforsaken two clicks! that your brain had seemed to be specifically searching for.
his eyes are wide as he watches you unravel on top of him, the small whimpers leaving you only further confirming your puppy-like nature to your husband.
“did you just-” “shut up.” your voice is weak with embarrassment and your orgasm, but he’s quick to listen despite that.
he silently hopes he could train you to do that every time he used the clicker. how fun would that be?
mdni!!! (≧∀≦)
UMMMMM UHHHHHHH BLAME THIS ON THIS POST AND VALE I DIDNT DO ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!
cw’s!!: light(?) petplay (sugu calls u puppy + clicker trains u hehe), very very light dacryphilia, gn! reader (no specific parts mentioned other than the fact that ur bottoming!!), husband sugu…. the loml……..
wc: 792 :3
it started off as something silly! “for positive reinforcement.” suguru had explained simply when you narrowed your eyes at his initial mention of the idea. even after that (very poor) explanation, you still weren’t completely convinced.
“i’m just worried about you, my love. we’ve exhausted every option, haven’t we? why not try something unconventional?” and you would’ve refused once again, but ohhh, the way he wrapped his arms around your waist as he spoke… he was only worried for your wellbeing, after all…
he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head after your reluctant agreement.
and honestly? it wasn’t that bad at first! you had honestly thought that he forgot about the whole thing after a week of radio silence on the topic.
it wasn’t until he got home from a full day of errands that it was brought up again.
“did you eat, pretty?” he asked softly after pressing a peck to your lips in greeting. as soon as you let out a small hum of affirmation, there was a distinct sound coming from your husbands pocket that made your eyes narrow in suspicion.
two distinct clicks.
it took you a second to realize what it was, but an annoyed huff left you when you saw the smug look on his face. fucking bastard…
“good job, puppy.” you could only push him away as he laughed and heat rose to your cheeks.
it became almost routine after that. yes, you did huff and pout a couple of times after that initial instance, but you were used to the clicker after the first week. it was the same routine every time — you did something to take care of yourself, you got two clicks and a small praise from him.
and maybe… after a while… you found yourself purposefully taking care of yourself just so he could praise you… (you weren’t very good at hiding it, he saw the way your perked up expectantly whenever you told him about something good that you did.)
the thing is: if this whole arrangement started off as an experiment, why was the small, plastic device resting in his palm while you were struggling to sink onto his cock?
“c’mon pup, you got it...” his free hand is squeezing at your hip, the pads of his fingers digging into the soft skin there (it’d probably bruise later, but that’s the last thing on your mind at the moment).
“stop-… stop callin’ me that…” your voice comes out much whinier than you would’ve liked, but who could blame you? it was always so hard to take him in this position.
your bottom lip is in a small pout and wobbling slightly in frustration, your watery eyes fixed on where you and suguru meet. he stays quiet, running his hands over your skin in a comforting gesture to ease some of the tension in your muscles (it works, of course. his touch always brought you an unexplainable sort of comfort.)
you finally take all of him a few minutes later with a small, whimpered curse, the building tears in your eyes finally rolling down your cheeks when you feel the tip of his cock nudge right against that spot inside of you.
click click!
“thaaat’s it, puppy… fuck-“ a winded sort of chuckle leaves him. “— squeezed so tight when i used the clicker… you like it that much?” his hips twitch up into you involuntarily, making a strangled little whimper leave you against your will as you shake your head adamantly in denial.
“no? i must’ve been imagining things, then.” he breathes, finally starting the slow rock of his hips (of course he’d never let you do any of the work on your own!)
even so, your hips move to meet his motions while small, punched out moans escape your lips.
“there you go, puppy…” he groans softly. “takin’ me so well, so good f’me.” he’s practically babbling out praises at this point and as much as you wanted to deny it, the annoying little nickname he gave you was getting you close embarrassingly fast.
and fuck, the final thing that does you in are the godforsaken two clicks! that your brain had seemed to be specifically searching for.
his eyes are wide as he watches you unravel on top of him, the small whimpers leaving you only further confirming your puppy-like nature to your husband.
“did you just-” “shut up.” your voice is weak with embarrassment and your orgasm, but he’s quick to listen despite that.
he silently hopes he could train you to do that every time he used the clicker. how fun would that be?
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.)
soaking in the bath while toji sits on top of the toilet seat bc he’s a big baby and can’t handle how hot you like your water.
you’re on your phone or reading a book, the skin above the water dewy from the steam and he just watches you. he watches as your head lulls to the side with a sigh before your breathing steadies. he’d think you were asleep if he didn’t know you any better, but he did.
he’d normally tease you, say something about how he didn’t know cpr if you fell asleep in the bath… but he doesn’t. instead he matches his breathing with yours (anything to make himself feel closer to you in the quiet moment) and leans against the back of the toilet. he’s content with watching you until your skin got all pruny. after all, isn’t that what he’ll be doing years from now anyway?
I’m nosey so feel free to share your answer in the tags 🌚
i think the scariest part of just like. the baseline, fundamental parts of asylum therapist! suguru is the origins of his obsession if that makes sense??
(referring to the au i established in this and this oneshot :]])
like this man truly, truly believes that you’re an angel just because you were able to see through his charm. you saw the darkness in his eyes — in his smile — that he always tried so hard to hide… but you. you saw it from the first time you ever met him. even when you’re sedated and your judgement is clouded, you know the sort of evil in his heart.
you knew him better than anyone within the first half hour of knowing him and you weren’t scared. you threatened him. for someone as damaged — as delusional — as suguru geto, that’s the biggest sign of divinity that you could’ve given him. why wouldn’t he want to keep his angel safe?
and even if you are an angel, he knows you were given to him as a punishment. too much of a good thing is bad for you and suguru is convinced that you are that good thing, that his indulgence in you will surely lead to his fall. knowing that, who could blame him for stalling his inevitable demise? if he was to die by your hands at least let let him hold those hands for the time being. even death row prisoners get a final meal, right?
now to you, suguru geto is the devil incarnate. you don’t believe he was some “divine punishment” (hell, you barely believed you deserved the worldly punishment given to you), but he was… something.
to have a man fully take away your power, make you weak… he had to die, that was your only option. even if you tried to escape you know he’d only use that as an excuse to restrain you even more when he caught you again (when. not if.)
you were smart, you had a plan. you just had to wait it out.
i think the scariest part of just like. the baseline, fundamental parts of asylum therapist! suguru is the origins of his obsession if that makes sense??
(referring to the au i established in this and this oneshot :]])
like this man truly, truly believes that you’re an angel just because you were able to see through his charm. you saw the darkness in his eyes — in his smile — that he always tried so hard to hide… but you. you saw it from the first time you ever met him. even when you’re sedated and your judgement is clouded, you know the sort of evil in his heart.
you knew him better than anyone within the first half hour of knowing him and you weren’t scared. you threatened him. for someone as damaged — as delusional — as suguru geto, that’s the biggest sign of divinity that you could’ve given him. why wouldn’t he want to keep his angel safe?
and even if you are an angel, he knows you were given to him as a punishment. too much of a good thing is bad for you and suguru is convinced that you are that good thing, that his indulgence in you will surely lead to his fall. knowing that, who could blame him for stalling his inevitable demise? if he was to die by your hands at least let let him hold those hands for the time being. even death row prisoners get a final meal, right?
now to you, suguru geto is the devil incarnate. you don’t believe he was some “divine punishment” (hell, you barely believed you deserved the worldly punishment given to you), but he was… something.
to have a man fully take away your power, make you weak… he had to die, that was your only option. even if you tried to escape you know he’d only use that as an excuse to restrain you even more when he caught you again (when. not if.)
you were smart, you had a plan. you just had to wait it out.
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.
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.
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.
i so badly wanna write the preliminary meeting that i mentioned in the yandere suguru thing…………. i just think it’ll be funnnn teehee ^^
C/w: Mentions of blood/murder
I am once again thinking about mist's yandere suguru fic and holding my head in my hands, do you understand how fucking goated that dynamic is? He feels flattered that you care enough to take your time with murdering him, that is genuinly the best thing in the whole wide world
I'm crashing out, today was supposed to be about torturing mist not pulling my hair out because tumblr was fucking with my posts, i have failed as a moot
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
My sword insures your crown
Yandere knight!Suguru Geto x royal!reader, crumbles of lady in waiting utahime x reader
Tw: mentions of blood and murder, yandere themes, suguru's obsessed.
A/n: This took everything out of me to finish in one day, i lost the earlier draft and had to restart all over again. It turned out better than the original, tho. It's 7 pm over here, and my brain is begging me for a rest. Please let me know if you find any errors >0<
-> amazing devider by the amazing @uzmacchiato (they're so delicious)
Synopsis: Durring the wee hours of the morning, word reaches you about your favorite knight. You rush to meet him only to learn about yet another one of benevolent efforts.
Before you stands a vicious beast.
Suguru is dreanched in blood. He looks like a wild animal with all of the red painting his armor crimson, his heavy panting doesn't help his case, making him seem impossibly more feral. But, you know he's anything but. He further proves you right when he swiftly moves to close the distance between you by enveloping you in his arms and holding on as tightly as he can. You can feel his shaky breaths against the side of your neck, his tears catching on quicky after as well.
The blood is seeping into your clothes, lines of red intertwining with threads of silk, binding you to him. And you know suguru well enough to discern that this was indeed the intention.
"Sugu-" steel poleyns crashe against the marble floor, halting you in your tracks, you don't get to finish your sentence before your knight kneels on both of his knees, hands gripping your garments for dear life, face hidden in your lap. Suguru crumbles to the ground and so does the illusion of a monster.
A sigh of relief makes its way out of his throat, he shifts his body to wraps his arms around your waist. You stand there in the silence that follows, dreading the moment you have to ask.
"Its not my blood" the answer to your unspoken question reaches you in the form of a raspy breathless whisper. "Don't worry, your highness" suguru mutters before burring his face deeper, basking in your presence.
"I see..." the relief in your tone isn't lost on your knight, you can feel his content smile before he nuzzles deeper against your lap.
"In that case uhm....if you..if you don't mind, who exactly-"
"Don't mind that"
He almost snaps. The shift in his mood is loud and clear, it's like your question startled him, it has even him stumbling for an adequate follow up.
"Please. Your highness, don't stress yourself. Its my duty to protect you, no matter the cost"
The knight is not delusional enough to believe his own lies. Of course, he knows the noble man who was on his way to ask for your hand in marriage didn't pose any immediate danger. Of course, he understands that your marriage would be beneficial for the nation, of course he knows such extreme measures aren't necessary. You have your fair share of tricks. Your influence is nothing to scoff at, but not even you can sway the king when it comes to deplomatic matters such as these. Your father is a tough cookie, something suguru won't entertain. So it's his responsibility to shield you from what you can't handle.
"Alright then...i understand. Enough said" he doesn't have to say it outloud for you to understand. It's an open secret that suguru would go to unimaginable heights to insure your happiness, be it plucking fresh berries for you, or disposing of your suitors. It's what a faithful servant does, it's only natural. However, the topic of your marriage in particular, seems to stand out to him.
Suguru wants to believe that this is all for you. He wants to say that your smile is the only reward he would claim. But he knows his sword won't show any mercy even if you approve of the admirer.
The sight is straight out of a tragic opera. You look like lovers like this, a man on both his knees, his sweetheart in his arms, both covered in a blanket of red. The gruesome factor adds to the appeal. It's such a twisted yet intimate display but a shamless one given your status.
your attempt to pull away from the embrace is futile, Suguru only pulls you closer, and you'd be a foul to think you can match his strength.
"Suguru, we can't stay like this forever, come on you need to clean up before one of maids sees us like this"
Before one of the maids sees us, huh.
Your knight entertaines the idea for a moment, to be seen like this with you, this close and personal, your nonechallant reaction is just the cherry on top, already used to the knight's antics, he always acts like he has something to prove, as if he hadn't done enough of that already.
Suguru doesn't respond, he doesn't move from his position either, like a stubborn oversized guard dog, you have to run your fingers through his hair to get him to snap out of his love stick trance. The knight meets your eyes with his own pair, a devoted expression overtaking his visage. One that tells you he would throw himself back at the blood bath as many times as you ask.
"Let's get going. I need to change first. I don't want Utahime to worry"
Your lady in waiting is not going to like this one bit, for somone who fusses over the smallest paper cuts she detects on your fingers, she is not going to let this go no matter how much you explain.
Suguru's mood visibly sours, the smallest mention lf the servant woman bringing him back to reality. Suguru would love nothing more than to rid you of her, but you've made it abundantly clear that Utahime is off limits.
"Must you really mention her every time we are together, your highness? Am i not enough for you?"
You chuckle in response, and it's enough to bring his spirit back up. He takes both of your hands in his before giving them a squeeze, his lips follow soon after, pressing a long almost desperate kiss to the back of your hands, his thumbs linger on your knuckles long after he pulled his face away. Coating them with blood. Coating your soul with his love. His unconditional devotion.
An exasperated sigh from you is all it takes to bring him back on his feet, his smiles is fond, genuine, one of an innocent man, not suitable for a murderer.
"Shall we?"
He offers you his arm to hold, and you waste no time clinging to him. You don't get to do this anymore, you don't get to spend time with him like this, not when you're of marriageable age, not with all these little insects the king keeps sending your way, eager to have you married and out of his hair, something about inssuring the pure royal lineage before his majesty passes away, honestly suguru prays the old man gets on with it already, bite the bucket and leave you be. Suguru certainty won't shy away from spilling your father's blood if he kept causing you problems.
Suguru walks you to your powder room to clean up then to your chambers. Usually, you'd invite him inside for a late night cup of tea and a chat under the stars in your balcony. But the angry ravenette woman by the chambers door shooting daggers at your knight is enough to make you reconsider. It seems you'll have to cut your little midnight adventure short.
Utahime pulls you inside with a gentle hand on the small of your back. She closes the doors behind you both but not before throwing one last glare at the long-haired man. He stares back at her with just as much malice, something you don't see. Your lady in waiting rushes to over and begins to examine you, all while muttering incoherently under her breath.
"That senseless brute! I don't trust him one bit. Who does he think he is? Men can be such a pain! What did he want from you this late, your highness?"
Your sweet melodious greets her ear and puts the woman at ease.
"All is well utahime, please don't worry"
Your hand finds her shoulder to rub soothingly, kind kind eyes meet her own, grounding her instantly, Utahime's tirade meets its end the second she gazes at you.
"He was just delivering something to me"
"A-at this hour?"
"Yup!" Your cheerful response leaves her speachless, utahime believes that no matter how much time you spend together, she will never be able to predict your antics.
And so he sighs.
"Your highness.....what am i going to do with you?" It's a light hearted question, never in a million years could she be upset with you.
"Yooouuuu could get us a glass of wine and join me in the balcony" you leave her no room to argue, making a B-line to the mentioned destination with a happy pep in your steps, mind clearly occupied. A moment later she joins you with a bottle of alcohol and a pair of stemware.
Under the moonlight Utahime clocks the blood under your finger nails.
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.
my sister in law got me a locket…. i have evil plans………. (putting my f/o’s pic in the locket ^^)
Chris Hemsworth behind the scenes of “Thor: Ragnarok”
Accurate. Very accurate. This is so funny
