Husband!satoru Fingering You In Front Of A Full-length Mirror With His Middle And Ring Finger. Purposely

Okay. Breathe, Satoru. You can do this. It's just a sleepover. Just your girlfriend. Just the person you're absolutely, irrevocably obsessed with. Who you're trying really, really hard not to scare off.

Standing in your apartment, hands shoved deep in his pockets to keep from touching everything. You’re flitting around, casual, relaxed, while he’s trying to memorize the shape of your furniture, the smell of your space, the way you hum when you walk into the kitchen.

Satoru's baby-blues locking onto the bathroom door. “I’ll, uh... shower first, if that’s okay?” like it’s the most neutral, chill request ever. It’s not. He’s sweating. His ears are pink. You nod like it’s no big deal - of course it’s no big deal - but to him? It’s a very big deal.

He gently closes the bathroom door behind him. Worries if he makes too much of a sound, he will be banned from your fine establishment. Your things are everywhere. Shampoo bottles, conditioner, your razor, a little candle half-burned on the sink, your loofah hanging from the shower knob, the loofah. He stares at it for too long.

Are we at the loofah-sharing stage? Satoru wonders, frozen in place. It’s pink. Fluffy. It looks soft, and it’s yours, and he’s fighting every stupid urge in his body. “Don’t be weird,” muttering aloud, as if he can command himself into normalcy. Still, his fingers twitch. He holds it. Briefly. Gently. Just for a second. Just to say he did.

Then comes the body wash. He squirts out the tiniest amount and rubs it between his hands like it’s precious perfume. The scent hits him and he nearly slides down the wall. You smell like this. You smell like this all the time. How is he supposed to survive? Because now he smells like you.

Pressing his face into the steam and pretends it’s your neck. He’s sick. Maybe a little pathetic. He knows it. But he’s also just so in love. What can a guy do?

When he steps out, face flushed and hair damp, he feels like a teenage boy at his crush’s house for the first time - which, in his mind, he kinda is. You’re waiting for him in pajamas, makeup wiped off, looking soft and sleepy and so perfectly you. He thinks he might pass out.

And then… brushing teeth together. Should be simple. Should be normal. But nothing is normal around you. He’s beside you at the sink, trying to play it cool while your shoulder brushes his. You hum to yourself while brushing, glancing at him through the mirror, and he nearly foams at the mouth. Or maybe that’s the toothpaste. He’s not sure.

Then he sees it.

A little blob of foam at the corner of your lips.

Something happens to him. Something dark and unspeakable. He wants to kiss it away. He wants to lick it off your mouth like a psychopath. He stares. Blinks. Shakes his head like a wet dog. Absolutely not. No. Stop it.

What’s wrong with you, scolding himself. She’s just brushing her teeth. Like a person. A very pretty, perfect person.

He spits. Rinses. Avoids eye contact. Looks at the drain. Looks at your spit down the drain. Another weird thought. One that must be suppressed.

And then it’s time. Bedtime. Final boss.

Your bed is small. Cozy. Absolutely infested with plushies. He pretends to be annoyed but he secretly loves them. Even if they are plotting to kick him off the edge of the mattress. He climbs in carefully, unsure which plush is your favorite. Unsure what you'd do if he accidentally knocked one little guy off the floor. The blanket smells like your laundry. Like home. Like the future he wants with you.

You’re already under the covers, blinking at him sleepily, smile soft and content. Wearing his shirt and not much else. The fabric rides up your thighs and he has to look away before his brain fully melts. He deserves a prize for not making a move. Deciding to lay on his back, stiff, hands folded like he’s in a coffin. He doesn’t touch you. Not even a pinky. Be good, chanting to himself. Be good. You like her. You love her. You’re not a perv, you’re not a perv.

You shift closer.

A leg brushes his. A sigh escapes your lips. Your hand settles gently on his stomach like it belongs there.

He almost cries, something between a half whimper and a wheeze leaves his throat.

Slowly, carefully, he slides his arm around your waist. You don’t flinch. Don’t pull away. You lean into him.

He swears he hears wedding bells.

You fall asleep just like that, face nestled against his shoulder, breath even and slow. And he lies there, heart racing, brain fried, blinking up at the ceiling, Satoru would be getting no sleep tonight.

His thoughts are a mess: She’s so pretty. Is she really mine? What if I kissed her forehead? No, too soon. Maybe not. God, her skin is soft. I should move in. Tomorrow. Today. Right now. No, bad. Calm down. Be cool. Be a good boyfriend. Don’t get a boner. You’re cuddling. It’s fine. Just breathe. You’re okay. This is okay. Everything is okay.

He wants to. Touch you, that is. Just your waist. Just a hand on your back. Just to pull you closer and feel your heartbeat against his chest. But he doesn’t. He stays perfectly still. He doesn’t want to push anything. You haven’t done that yet, and he’d rather die than make you uncomfortable.

Except nothing’s okay. Because he’s so in love it physically hurts. Because you’re sleeping peacefully and trusting him with this little moment, and all he wants is to stay like this forever.

How are you sleeping so peacefully while he’s over here thinking about nothing but how perfect yoh are?

……………????????????????????????

hi so this is actually insane???????

Unskippable Bathroom Cutscene

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x gn!reader

Genre: smut

Content: forcing Tomura to take a hygene break while he games and making it worth his while~

♤Warnings: soft!dom!reader, handjob, some nipple play, anal fingering w/o lube, Tomura is a lil masochist but a good boy <3 ♤

A/n: was a lil tipsy while picking the title lmao

~ 1,9k words ~ MDNI | MHA Masterlist

You scowl, still hearing Tomura talk into his mic, relentless on this video game he's been obsessed with for the better part of a month. You told him to shower at least five times now, but your stubborn boyfriend is still glued to his screen, probably not even thinking about his real-life responsibilities of owning a body with severe eczema. A sigh escapes your lips as you walk into his gaming room, interrupting his session once more.

"Baby," your voice has lost its sliver of patience, sterner now, although it doesn't seem to bother Tomura, his attention still on the computer despite your hand pulling one side of his headset off. "You still haven't showered, have you?"

He presses his lips together, the scar over them flexing along. His eyes shift momentarily to you, gracing you with only a second of attention, almost shielded by his wavy strands. He shakes his head, not even offering a verbal response before his fingers continue their restless assault on the controller.

That's enough, you decide, now taking the headset off his head and push his controller out of his hands and onto the desk. "Tomu. I'm not telling you again, go take a shower now."

His brows furrow, fingers quickly grasping to at least save his game. Tomura leans back in his chair, letting out an annoyed groan without looking at you. "Don't wanna."

"Don't care," you mock his grumpy tone, patting his shoulder. Your eyes scan over his slumped form, realizing you're way too whipped for this man. "I'll draw you a bath, how about that?" you suggest, leaning in to kiss his pouty cheek.

"Whatever," Tomura grumbles, irritated his game abruptly ended and not really caring how this annoying task of self-maintenance will be carried out. His attitude is endearing and you can't help a small scoff as you ruffle his long hair.

"If I see you back on that game, I'll confiscate the controller," you warn him before walking to the bathroom.

The tub is filled with remedies for Tomura's skin, smelling pleasantly smooth. He's next to you already, eyes droopy and shoulders sagged. Seems like a few minutes away from the computer made this boy realize just how tired he is.

"C'mon, get undressed, baby," you coax, your eyes gentle as you take in his tired form. The exhaustion is entirely his fault, but that doesn't stop you from feeling bad for him. Your hands reach out to the hem of his shirt, offering to help him out.

He silently lets you, first his shirt, then his pants. You have to refrain from staring at his beautiful naked body, trustingly on display for you alone. Your hand trails over his spine as he sinks into the water, moaning at the warmth engulfing him, his body leaning against the back of the bathtub. You roll your sleeves up while crouching down behind him, arms wrapping around his neck loosely.

"Feel nice?" you murmur close to his ear, your eyes occupied by how pretty he looks, the slightly foamy water encasing his pale skin.

Tomura hums, his eyes closing as he leans his head back. Of course - you knew he'd enjoy this once he's actually in the water, the same pattern repeating whenever you have to force your pretty boyfriend to take care of himself. Your hands dip into the water, gently wetting his shoulders, fingers ghosting over sensitive skin.

You take your time massaging his body, wash along his shoulders and sore scratched neck, over and under his arms, his chest, and tummy as far as you can reach. Your mouth is occupied with the small kisses you trail along his cleaned neck, tasting leftover bitterness of soap. Tomura is pliant under your touch, his throat releasing approving little noises, head rolling to the side to give you more access.

"You look so pretty, baby," you coo into his ear, smirking at the obvious shiver that runs down his spine. He bites his lip, successfully suppressing a small whine. Your hands keep wandering under the water, almost without your permission, feeling each centimeter you can reach. You get lost in the feeling of his skin so soft and pliant and wet underneath your fingertips with the water engulfing your arms in pleasant warmth.

You know your boyfriend's body by heart and pick up the subtle signs of neediness like a wolf sniffing out its prey. There's a roused grin pulling at your lips, your hands caressing his lower tummy, fingers reaching dangerously far. Tomura inhales sharply, his body shifting under your possession, satisfyingly letting the water ripple against the tub's edge.

"Y/n," he whispers, his tone having switched from innocent appreciation to something more suggestive, an underlying invitation hiding behind your hushed name.

"Yes, my sweet boy?" you coo in response, teeth grazing the outer shell of Tomura's ear. You watch his hand curling to a first on his thigh, practicing learned self-restraint.

"Want you."

"But I'm right here, baby," you can't hide the obvious grin in your voice, eyes fixed on his side profile, enjoying each and every reaction to your teasing. Tomura closes his eyes, brows cutely furrowed. You both know you're aware of what he wants, but teasing Tomura when he's worn out and needy is one of your favorite things.

Your hand wanders back upward, finding his bony chest, instinctively circling his sensitive nipple. The action earns you a pretty gasp, Tomura's torso arching into your touch, lips pouty with usual defiance.

"Want you to touch me," he corrects his earlier statement, voice whiny but with its usual aloof undertone. You chuckle against his neck as you resume your kisses there, claiming you're already touching him.

Your stubbornness to follow his request makes Tomura huff with frustration, his hand twitching to just make you fist his hardened cock, but he refrains. Something about your gentle voice and touch makes him want to obey, makes him want to deserve you. Another gasp splits his lips when your fingers pinch at his chest, his body jerking with electricity, hand finally coming up to carefully grasp your wrist.

You release his nipple from your fingers, eyes fixed on Tomura's face once again. You move your hand and he releases it easily, eyes innocent when you turn his chin towards you. His red gaze meets yours, a fog of want clouding his vision, his pretty face flushed from the heat of the bath and the sin your fingers brought upon his insides. You smirk before leaning in, kissing his scarred lips.

Tomura's breath stumbles under your advance, his shoulders visibly relaxing, body leaning towards you, begging for more of you, and you can't help but want to indulge him. His chin is released from your hold, the touch of your hand now slowly treading downwards, feeling the tremble of his muscles with each centimeter they traverse.

He gasps when your finger trails along the dip where his thigh meets his hip, exploring further until you're sprawled along the inside of his thigh. He's eager, too eager for self-control, and therefore can't stop his body from jerking to the side, trying to get you to make contact with his pulsating goin.

You dart your tongue out, licking between his lips before pulling away, met with the rewarding look of Tomura's glistening lips and flushed cheeks, his eyes hooded. "You're being awfully good right now, sweetheart," you muse, finally lifting your hand from his thigh, palm engulfing the warm tip of his dick, "almost makes me want to forget about earlier."

His defiance about taking a shower still hangs fresh in your memory, but when he's being this pliant, this cute with those adorable lips that part for the prettiest moan when you squeeze his cock, it's hard to dwell on it. Tomura's eyes cast downwards, always turned on by seeing you touch him, and watch his own body react to the pleasure.

You lazily stroke along his length while beginning to leave small kisses over his shoulder again, sucking on the gentle skin ever so often. Your fingers are still greedy, needing to feel more of him, needing to make him feel more. Your other hand makes its way down his body too, trailing along the opposite side, into the water, and over his thigh.

“Spread your legs, baby," you coo against his skin, your hand following the crease of his inner thigh downwards, "that's it, Tomura. Wider."

He whines while obliging, making way for your touch to find his entrance, rubbing against it teasingly. He arches his back, shoulder pushing slightly upwards with the motion for you to rest your chin on it and watch him fondly. His brows are furrowed, gaze still cast downwards, observing your hands working him, little gasps making his Addams apple bob cutely.

"Want me inside you?" you murmur, smirking at his hitching breath and how he pushes his hips downwards, already eager without having found the response to your question in his head.

"Please~" he moans, the sound whiny and erotic and impossible to resist. It must be painful without lube, but that only makes your boyfriend moan louder when you push the tip of your index into him.

Your other hand tightens its strokes, thumb continuously caressing his sensitive tip with added pressure. Tomura averts his eyes, laying his head back against the bathtub, letting his moans flow freely, hips twitching in your hold ever so often. You move your head closer to his again, allowing him the extra affection of small kisses trailing along his jaw.

"You can come whenever you want, sweetheart."

Tomura inhales sharply, another deep moan rolling over his tongue, his eyes closed in bliss. Your finger thrusts into him ever so often, careful not to press too far without any lubrication. His thighs tense deliciously under the water, shifting, desperate to close around the pleasure, but Tomura remains a good boy and keeps them open for you, despite the concentration it requires.

The muscles in his abdomen start tensing, announcing his oncoming orgasm routinely. His moans turn to pretty little gasps, filling the bathroom along with the sound of sloshing water, his hips jerking almost rhythmically into your fist. Your teeth very carefully graze along his neck, aware of the broken skin - equally aware of his knack for pain. He whines loudly his hands gripping his thighs tight enough to make the flesh turn white before his cock finally stutters out an orgasm.

White ropes mist the water, squirting from his shaft in cute little spurts, Tomura's eyes shut tight as he lets the feeling consume his body, ripple through every cell, and hollow out his mind. Your hand slows as you watch him come, enjoying the sight more than anything. Caught up in the moment, Tomura barely notices when you pull your digit out of him, hand soothingly stroking his thigh under the water to slowly wander up and caress his chest.

His cock isn't released from your grasp, continuing to stimulate him even as his orgasm subsides, the cutest choked whines erupting from him at the slight overstimulation, but his warm cheeks and wanting thrusts betray how good he feels. You tilt his chin towards you, kissing him deeply while keeping up the light strokes, swallowing every gasp.

"Want another one, baby?"

hehehehvdjdbejdbdjdk

making tres leches tn who wants a piece

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 ^^;

read the prequel here!!! :)

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.

EVERYONE SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO HIM RN!!!!!!!!!!

now playing…

fragile by laufey

↺ |◁ II ▷| ♡

tenko shimura x reader

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

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

wc: 673

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

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

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

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

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

“i don’t understand how they could…”

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

his lips pull into a small frown at that.

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

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

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

“they trust us.” you reiterate.

“well they shouldn’t.”

you raise a brow at that.

“why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

he thinks on your question for a second.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i know.”

now playing…

i love you by billie eilish

↺ |◁ II ▷| ♡

boyfriends bsf! satoru x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

what goes up must come down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what if he comes back?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TYYYY BLUE ND NAE FOR TAGGING MEEEEE!!! *\(^o^)/*

that’s me :3

tags (no pressure!! :]): @ysaefinn @peachsayshi @sugusmonkeyy and whoever else would like to join!!!! >:3

tag game, because im sooo bored. link here! no pressure tags: @jeonwiixard, @mia-can-yap-too, @gumiiiiezzzz, @stxrysnow, @beepbopzlorp, @baepsays, @nanamiskentos, @f4iryfxies, @gojosoups, @cuntyji, @loveyislost, @satoao, @indiewritesxoxo, @carnalcrows, and anyone else <33

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