When Tumblr Refreshes Itself And The Fic I Was Reading Fucking Disappears Forever 💔

JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST

A- Angst

F- Fluff

C- Comfort

GOJO SATORU

By Your Side (A, F) - what if Gojo didn't die and was revived Dentist Calls (F) - Gojo gets a cavity Kikufuku (F) - Kikufuku chef Gojo ft. his cooking partner Serendipity (F) - A tall, handsome stranger at a bookshop 9:01 (F) - Gojo gets a piercing with you Why him? (F) - Gojo's daughter wants to marry uncle Geto 7:36 (F) - Gojo proposes in his own style Gym Time (F) - Gojo works out with you Skincare Rituals (F) - Gojo and skincare Jealousy, Jealousy (F) - Gojo gets hit on at a date Birthday Present (F) - Dad Gojo teaches your toddler some words First Day (F) - Dad Gojo's sends his child to preschool As I Was Saying (F) - Gojo is determined to interrupt your phonecall

NANAMI KENTO

Faded (A) - Breaking up with Nanami The Shibuya Incident (A) - Nanami's fate in Shibuya, pt 2 of Faded Warm Mornings (A) - He's not gone, right? pt 3 of Faded Second Chances (F) - Patch up with Nanami, alt ending of Faded Trip to Malaysia (F) - Nanami moves to Malaysia with you A Future with You (F) - Nanami builds a future, pt 2 of Trip to Malaysia Sakura Blossom (F) - Cafe date with Nanami Little Superhero (F) - Dad Nanami gets called to the preschool

ITADORI YUJI

4:31 (C) - You support Yuji after the incidents in Shibuya

FUSHIGURO TOJI

Guardian (F) - Toji saves someone, uncharacteristically

MULTIPLE CHARACTERS

Orange Peel Theory (F) - Gojo, Nanami Lipstick Kisses (F) - Gojo, Nanami

Swapping Secrets and Spit (*NSFW*)

Pairing: D.M x Gryffindor! Reader Summary: You and Draco were notorious for meeting up for only moments to exchange information. You helped to let him know what Harry was up to, and he let you know exactly how to get an Outstanding on your potions exam. But would your feelings end up pushing him away or starting something exciting? W/C: 2.9k Tags: Sexual Content / cock teasing / oral stimulation (f/m) / face fucking A/N: NSFWWW. Lmao this got out of hand so fast LMAO [masterlist] Much Love, Saige

You exited transfigurations class and straight into the chaos of the hallways. Students coming from every corner attempting to make their way to their next class. Now usually was the perfect time for you and Draco to spot each other in the crowd and find a place to speak briefly. The roaring conversation of the students and the clamoring of their feet distracted most people from noticing the Slytherin Prince talking with a no-name Gryffindor.

You didn’t dislike Harry, that wasn't why you were feeding information to Draco at all. To be honest you were fascinated by him, and had a close schedule with the bunch to be able to inconspicuously listen and hear what they were up to. It wasn’t until your third year when Draco ultimately started teasing you about your involvement with them when you stood up for yourself. He found it surprising, and more interesting that you were bold enough to separate yourself from the Gryffindor heart throb.

Again.. You didn’t hate Harry Potter. But the interactions with Draco made you feel something, and if it meant just relaying information that was harmless to be in a room alone with him, you’d do it.

Some would call it a dumb hopeless crush, but you didn’t see anything wrong with it. It wasn’t something you told your friends about or Draco would let his goons know about. It was your own little secret. And you loved it.

You looked around casually as you descended the stairs to the main hallway. You waited to notice the blonde boy in green robes before you walked towards a broom closet just out of sight from the passing students. Waiting in the dark, you sat fiddling with your book bag trying not to look awkward.

It took a few minutes but Draco cracked the door open, and snuck his body in, his chest heaving. You look at him, eyes wide, unsure why he was worked up.

“Crabbe is actually going to be the death of me. The way he trips over his own feet is embarrassing.” He huffed, running his hand through his tousled hair. You waited for him to say more, but he just sat next to you attempting to catch his breath.

You cleared your throat, ready to jump into what you had heard lately. Umbridge had implemented new rules across the school, and it was harder and harder for you and Draco to meet. Even though Draco was a part of the Inquisitorial Squad, he typically saw the rules didn’t apply to him.

“They’ve started a club.” You whispered. Draco's eyebrows furrowed-

“A club? What, his three friends weren’t enough to soak up his emotional negligence as a child?” Draco snorted.

You just rolled your eyes. He didn’t understand but you didn’t understand the implications of the club either.

”No its like. A fighting club? A dueling club? I heard the sign up sheet had a curse on it, if you spoke about the club you’d get boils all over your face.” You added. His eyebrows relaxed as he took in your information.

“A dueling club? There’s not a place in the castle where they could do that secretly.” Draco chuffed. He believed you, but a part of him didn’t believe that they’d be able to get away with something under Umbridge's rule.

“That’s all I know.” You shrugged your shoulders. Draco sighed, but nodded his head satisfied with what you gave him. You couldn’t help but notice the new badge placed on his robes. You were about to compliment it before he pulled out his potions book, breaking you from your daze.

”Snape let us know that the O.W.L’s will have a practical and written examination but only of specific potions. You only need to know how to prepare and successfully write down the Draught of Peace, Strengthening solution, the invigor-“ Draco’s instructions were cut short, stopping to listen to the noise outside the door. He outstretched his hand to stop your writing, your hands vigorously attempting to write down everything he was saying. You paused with him leaning your body closer to the door. From down the hall, the voices of Blaise and Crabbe echoed. While he focused on the sounds in the hall, all you could think about was his hand resting softly on yours.

“Oy! Draco!” Crabbe started.

“Emergency meeting in 10!” Blaise finished.

Draco sighed looking at you almost apologetically, but his body language stayed firm. He took his hand back, letting it guide off your knuckles softly before collecting his things. He closed the textbook and shoved it in his bag.

“Meet me later in the library after curfew. Take the left stairway near the gargoyle statue and keep right. I'll wait for you.” Draco mumbled leaving you in the broom closet surrounded by silence. He came and went faster than you anticipated but that typically was how your meetings were arranged. Though this time was different, you were never invited to meet him again, nonetheless after curfew.

You tried your best not to imagine anything romantic, your mind wandering to a private meeting late at night with the boy. Part of you hated how you fell for him like the rest of the school girls. He was a brat, no good, but charming, beautiful, and suave. His demeanor in your little meetings felt different than when you saw him with his friends. He didn’t treat you the same, actually he didn’t really act like you existed outside of your meetings. But something festers within you, dumb hope perhaps.

You waited in your dorm, watching the clock on the wall tick meticulously. The other girls in your room were already fast asleep, all exhausted by the application of O.W.L’s and the combination of Umbridge's unfair laws. You took another look around before slowly unwrapping yourself from your bed, tiptoeing out of the room. It was just past 11:45, not too late into the night. You wrapped yourself in your sweatshirt and walked out the common room in just your socks. You thought the soft pads of your feet were a quieter way to get down the stone hallways.

Like Draco insisted, you walked around the castle finding the gargoyle and the left stairwell. You hadn’t heard or bumped into a single professor or heaven forbid Filch and his damn cat. The stairwell forked and you kept left. Your heart raced as you got closer to the library. He said he’d meet you but you didn’t know where. It wasn't until you turned the stairs again when your arm was tugged back and handed over your mouth.

Eyes wide, a voice whispered into your ear.

“Shh, It’s just me. Follow and don't make a noise. Okay?” Draco's voice was just barely audible. You nodded, his hand slowly moving away from your mouth. He walked ahead of you in silence to the top of the stairwell. You held your own hand against your cheeks, feeling the rush of blood turn you a deep shade of red. You couldn’t help but watch him as he walked in front of you, his green plaid bottoms and black short sleeve shirt suited him well. It was as if he was wearing a separate Slytherin uniform, kept clean and pressed. His hair was damp, noting that he took night showers. You wished you could turn off your brain, he was just using you for information. That was it.

You got to an empty hallway, Draco opening a broom closet just near the library, ushering you in. You got inside, surprised by how much smaller it was to the one you typically shared downstairs. You waited for a moment as he joined you, lifting his arm up to pull a string, dull yellow light now cascading over you both.

You both stood in silence for a moment, looking at each other. Both of you weren’t exactly sure that the other would show up, the meeting feeling almost forbidden.

Draco cleared his throat. Unable to find his voice. He was incredibly close to you, your eyes looking up to him through your lashes. After a moment he looked up and around, trying not to stare. You stood there, breathing in his cologne, unable to think about anything else. You didn’t know whether to start speaking or wait to be spoken to. The silence was deafening.

“I just wanted to, let you know more about the potions exam.” Draco finally spoke, his voice raspy and slightly shaken. His hands were firmly to his sides, the sinking feeling of how close you two really were. He thought about asking if you wanted to find another closet, but he liked how you looked, looking up at him through your lashes. Blood rushed throughout his body, the room now getting warmer with both of you occupying such little space.

“That would be nice.” You spoke softly. All you could do was smile, adjusting your shirt slightly. You tried to look down to adjust your clothes further, out of anxiety mostly, but your forehead hit his chest, bumping into him. Your hand flung up to your mouth astonished and embarrassed. He just laughed, his arm moving and holding you up.

“I’m terribly sorry.” You whispered, trying to stand back as far as you can, though it didn’t make much of a difference. He now stood, his back to the door, his hands still on your shoulder. Both of you looked into each other's eyes for another second before the grip on your body pulled you every so slightly back into him. Draco leaned down, meeting you just before your lips met, hesitating before softly planting a kiss.

His hands slid up your shoulders, holding your neck as he kissed you again now, deeper. Your hands at your sides, almost afraid to reach out and touch him. You melted into his hands, your neck leaning to the side to let him get deeper. His hands moved from your neck to your arms, guiding them to his torso.

You smiled into the kiss, your fingers raking up and down his back. Draco started kissing you harder, his tongue flicking around your lips begging for more. You opened wider, both of your tongues meeting each other, moving around each other's mouths in quick succession. You could feel the room heat up, the sounds of your mouths enveloping all of your senses. Draco felt focused, curious about how far you’d let him. He craved your touch, the countless private meetings in broom closets, his mind constantly thinking of what he would do if you were really alone. How you were his pretty little detective, a spy on the inside.

His hand traveled to your knee, pulling it up around his torso as he leaned you back. You moaned into the kiss, taken away slightly by his movements. His hips met yours, the feeling of his growing member beneath his bottoms bumping slightly into your core as he kissed you. You ran your hands through his hair, the feeling of the cold damp strands bringing you some relief.

Draco began to lean his hips further into yours, his movements becoming more rhythmic with every passing movement. You were aching for his touch, the slight friction of your pants and his only partially alleviating your needs. You let your hands travel down his torso, breaking the kiss, palming him lightly. Draco's head dropped to his chest, his eyes fixated on your hands. You bit your lip, impressed by your confidence.

“Fuck darling.” His hands were still cupping your face lightly, holding your head as he enjoyed your touch. Soon your hands slipped under his waistband, tugging them lightly. He smiled, pulling you back into a kiss. His hands removed yours from his waistband and up above your head.

He trailed kisses from your arms to your neck, biting ever so slightly behind your ear. It took everything in him not to leave bruises, but he wanted to keep you his secret more than anything. His hands let go of yours, your arms now resting on your head. He lifted your shirt, kissing down your torso towards your waistline. He licked seductively at your navel, his hands slowly inching your pants down, your underwear still on.

Your breath hitched, the feeling of his hands rubbing down your legs, kissing and sucking your skin. He urged your foot to rest on his shoulder, his smile as he maneuvered himself closer in between your legs. You closed your eyes, your arm covering any light from coming through. He kissed your clit through the material, his thumb rubbing against the wet spot forming just below. He just smirked, rubbing soft circles watching your body react to his touch. He kept removing his hands, waiting for you to moan in protest, loving how you begged for him to continue. He did it one more time, waiting to hear your voice.

“Draco please.” You whispered, your knees shaking slightly in anticipation. He could feel his core seize hearing your voice say his name. So breathless, so low. His fingers moved your underwear to the side, his tongue immediately shoved down your cunt. The savory taste made Draco go crazy, his head bobbed slowly, using his hands to care for your clit as he focused on your hole.

He felt monstrous. He could be down there forever, enjoying every last drop of you. The way your leg pushed against his shoulder, the way you arched your back against the wall, clawing your hands in his hair. He was in heaven, and he wanted to make you feel good.

He moved his fingers off your clit, replacing it with his mouth, lapping and sucking lightly. His fingers teasing your hole, entering only slightly watching you get closer to your climax. Your body twitching, your knees slowly getting closer to the sides of his head. He let you move your legs, hips buckling as he sped up, the rush of euphoria overcoming you.

Draco stayed under you, watching you catch your breath. Your breasts now exposed, your hands pulling at your shirt in any attempt to release tension. Draco's hands moved to your hips, pulling himself up lightly. He moved your hands from your blushing face, kissing you deeply. The rush of your climax brought you back to reality, you two were in the broom closet on the top floor, making out … and doing much more. You couldn't believe it.

Your hands traveled back to his waistband, this time more demanding. You turned away from the kiss, moving to his jawline and around his neck. You continued to palm him through his pants, the feeling of his cock much larger than before. Your hands rubbed methodically through the paternal until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Lowering to your knees, you shimmied his pants down, your mouth filling with saliva as the seconds passed. You slightly scratched down his hips as you took off his underwear, the feeling making Draco’s head snap back in pleasure. His cock fully erect in front of you, almost intimidating in size. You took a deep breath placing your hands close to the shaft, kissing lightly at his tip.

You swirled your tongue around, savoring the salty precum before you took as much as you could in your mouth. Using your hands, you slowly started moving your head in motion, the sounds of Draco whimpering only making you go deeper.

His hands ran through your hand, grabbing all of it in his hand forcing you to take him deeper. You gagged, the vibrations making Draco’s hips twitch. The combination of his hands and his hips simultaneously forcing his cock down your throat with every thrust. The saliva was now dripping down your chin, all over your hands. You reached up to his hands on your head, urging him to push you further.

”Are you sure?” He asked, his voice breathless. You just nodded, your head still bobbing with his assistance. He soon used his hands to hold you in place, his hips pushing his cock into your mouth, face fucking you. The feeling was out of this world, you focused your cheeks and breath in between his movements. Your eyes welled with tears but the moment made you rush. Your hands ran down in between your legs, quickly rubbing your clit sloppily as Draco used your mouth.

Draco's moans were suppressed, only the sounds of you gagging making him slip up, moaning your name into the air. He thrusted his hips one last time, his thighs shaking as he shot a warm liquid down your throat. Your jaw sore and tongue chaffed from the event. He leaned back taking his cock out of your mouth allowing you to fully breath in and out, juices spilling over your mouth. You stayed on the floor catching your breath. Draco turned noticing paper towels just to his left, wiping his tip before pulling his pants up. Kneeling down to you, he lovingly wiped your face, taking the time to make sure he got everything off. Your face was flustered, eyes closed just enjoying the peace.

Draco stared at you, your face red, the small smile on your face. He was absolutely smitten by you. He hated that he’d credit Potter to you two meeting, but he would never have it any other way.

❝ 𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐘! ❞

❝ COME ON, FUCK ME, EMO BOY!! ❞

✧ pairing: emo boy! choso kamo x f!reader ✧ summary: saw this boy at the mall last week. got the kind of look to make me freak. wanna fuck in the back of the hot topic? ✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, emo boy! choso, sex toys (vibrators, clit sucker), multiple orgasms, semi-exhibitionism, public sex (sex in the back of hot topic, sex in a changing room), fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), big dick choso (but honey, that dick was 11 inches), also mahito + yuji make appearances, art by @/SS_utr3n. ✧ wc: 5.3K

It had been a while since you had stepped into a Hot Topic (a while meaning three days or three years, take your pick). But this had been the third time this week you had been to this specific Hot Topic, and now you were sure the manager of the place had your badly taken picture and description scrawled in some notebook as a potential shoplifter. 

But it wasn’t the merchandise you were looking to pick up. 

It was him. 

You saw him when you were browsing the clearance rack, knelt down, evaluating whether you needed another blind box item that will inevitably not contain the character you were looking for (but on the plus side, it was on sale?), when you heard a deep voice speak. 

“Excuse me,” you glance up as you spot him — and you swear your breath gets stuck somewhere between your windpipe and your lungs, because you don’t breathe while this man kneels down next to you to place more items on clearance. Spiky black locks tied up messily on either side, fringe bangs falling in front of his face as he bent down, a tattoo across the bridge of his nose and was that — dark purple eyeshadow around his eyes — and his eyes — god, his eyes were gorgeous, a deep dark brown — and you swore, was that a hint of purple in his irises? 

He was everything that your teen self had wanted — the same guys whose profiles you had looked at growing up and thought were so hot. You caught a glance at the My Chemical Romance t-shirt as he stood, in black jeans, as he catches you staring, “Can I help you find something?” His tone was casual, but he was curious — probably curious why you were staring at him with wide-eyed saucers. 

“No, no, sorry, I—” no, don’t tell the hot Hot topic worker that he is hot — first of all its confusing, second of all— “I just wanted to say, I like your t-shirt,” 

Fuck. out of all the things to say — I like your style, I like your fit, I like your hair — you had to pick the most generic ass comment. 

He only nods, but you catch the barest upward twitch of the corner of his lip, “thanks,” 

And that’s all it took — you now needed to see him smile. 

Over the next few days innocently shopping at Hot Topic, you find out his name is Choso from one of the other workers, Mahito, calling his name. His hair is usually in those buns, but one of the days his hair was down, and you heard him complain that his hair ties had snapped. 

And his hair looked so good down, his long inky locks fell past his shoulders, but this was your chance to talk to him — “i have some extra hair ties, if you want them,” you offer him a few hair ties, “I overheard you talking with the other worker, I hope you don’t mind,” 

And he shakes his head, his lips quirked in that almost smile that makes your heart squeeze. 

Fuck. 

“Not at all, thank you,’ and his fingers brush yours as he takes the hair ties, and you turn to leave, but his voice stops you, “what was your name? I didn’t catch it last time,” 

You tell him, smiling, “Your name is Choso, right? I saw it on your nametag,” and he’s biting his lip, tilting his head in question, as you flush, cheeks burning, “I’ve noticed you a couple times when I’ve come in— not in a weird way, I just—” 

“I’ve noticed you too,” and finally he’s smiling — and you know he’s got you, you know you’re fucked. 

And you do get fucked — in the back of Hot Topic during his break. 

It had been a few weeks of you two talking and flirting, until finally, during his break he’s got you snuck into the back to show you the merchandise they haven’t put out yet. And you scoff when you come across a bullet vibrator, “you guys sell these?” 

He shrugs, “They started to in the last few years, not a lot. They don’t want the parents to become too outraged, but just enough,” And you snort, turning the bullet over in your fingers curiously, “have you never used one before?” 

And your cheeks burn, as you bite your lip, “No I never have,” and the next question stumbles out as a joke, “why? Wanna help me learn?” And you want to bite your tongue, but you’re too busy with the foot in your mouth to do so, and before you can apologize he speaks. 

“I would,” 

And your eyes snap to his, and you realize how close he’s standing, his eyes not filled with humor but something else — lust? — and his lips curled in a small smile. 

Fuck. 

“You’re gonna have to be a little quieter, love,” he’s murmuring in your ear, pressing kisses to your neck, as you’re pressed between his firm chest and the metal storage rack, fingers laced as you held on, the vibration between your thighs the only thing ringing in your ears. 

But how can you be quiet? 

The bullet vibrator is pressed right against your clit, and his thick fingers are parting your folds, so close to sinking into you, his deep voice whispering in your ear, hot breath against your neck. 

And the coil in your stomach is only growing tighter and tighter, and your squeals only grow more and more insistent. His fingers sunk into your mouth, “suck,” he ordered, and your cunt twitches at the demand, as you do, sucking and licking messily on his fingers, “good girl,” 

And he clicks the button of the vibrator again, increasing the vibration, making your eyes widen, a gasp around his fingers, “so responsive,” he groans, as your legs grow weak, and he’s stepping forward to steady you, but it also settles his dick between your ass. 

He’s huge. 

The bulge presses into you, drawing a hiss from his lips as you lean back against it, “Trying to tease me, sweetheart?” And he’s pulling his fingers from his mouth, a string of spit connecting from his fingers to your lips, “don’t forget who’s teaching you,” and he sinks his spit soaked fingers into your needy cunt, making your back arch into his body, “so tight, despite the vibrator,” he hums.

“Choso, please—” and he starts to fuck his fingers in and out, the squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears mixing with the buzz of the vibrator — you’re already so close, “I'm—” 

“Cum for me,” he’s grunting, as his fingers reach even deeper inside you, dragging against your walls as he curls them, finding that one spot that has you seeing stars. And your moan as you cum is stifled against your own palm, as he only maxes out the vibration and fucks you through your orgasm, “one more for me, pretty, you can do it,” 

“No, no, Choso, please too much, can’t—” and he only presses sweet kisses to your neck, and how are you already close — you just had orgasmed, but the coil in your stomach is growing tighter by the second, and you’re nearly crying when you cum again, your slick dripping down his fingers and the vibrator as he eases it from you, and then splatters onto the dirty tile floor of the backroom of Hot Topic.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he’s tilting your head back and around for a kiss. And you catch a glimpse of the glint of your release on his black painted nails as he presses the pads into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his digits and sucking them clean, “that’s it, clean up your mess f’me,” and his other hand is wiping the tears from your eyes, “so pretty when you cry — can’t wait to make you do it again.”

Your cunt twitches at the thought, your cum still dripping down your thighs, “Again?” and he’s pressing another sinful kiss to your lips, “You didn’t think this would be our only lesson, did you?” 

And it wasn’t — the next lesson was spent in the fitting rooms, during a particular dead early afternoon in the store — and he had you spread on the fitting room bench, your black jeans pulled down to your ankles, as his head found its way between your thighs. You could barely hold back your whimpers as he pressed all too hot kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, burning already with his warm breath. It was too much. 

He was too much. 

“How’s that feel?” dark eyes flicking up to meet yours, half lidded with lust, as he watches your panting face, your head against the wall of the fitting room, “use your words, love,” 

“Too good, Cho-so,” the last syllable of his names escapes your lips in a gasp, as your cunt twitches as his lithe fingers tease you through the soaked material of your panties, “please, please, need you,” 

“What do you need?” and his fingers pull away, as his lips press a kiss to your puffy clit, pulling a whine from you, “what do you want me to do?” 

“Please, just—” and he’s tugging your panties aside, cool air rushing over your all too hot pussy, “please just touch me — with your fingers or mouth—” 

And his tongue drags over your messy cunt, and god, it feels too good — but a twinge makes you pause, and when you feel it draw a circle around your clit, you realize what it is — he has a tongue piercing. Your fingers thread their way in his black locks, resisting the urge to grab at his hair buns. 

He grunts, vibrations against your wet cunt, as you pull him impossibly closer to where you needed him most, his nose bumping against your clit, “you smell so good — how’s that possible?” and your eyes squeeze shut as his hands press your thighs further apart. 

That’s when you both hear the click of the entrance, and the door swinging shut — shit, the door — he forgot to lock it. Forgot when you had pulled him into a kiss right when he was ready to take a lunch break, all other thoughts had flown out of his brain once he let those doors swing shut and your lips had met his — well, left his brain and flooded southward. He also didn’t think a customer would be persistent enough to try the door and wander in when the doors were shut and the closed sign was hung up. 

“Choso, should we—” and the footsteps draw closer — and fuck — did you get wetter? And tighter — his moan is muffled against your walls, “Choso, stop, we—” 

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers, dark, half lidded eyes look up at you, your essence and his spit soaking his lips and dripping down his chin. And the footsteps are receding, the sounds of the shuffling and clinking of clothes hangers on racks in the distance, but all you can hear are the sounds of the wet, needy squelch of your cunt, “you aren’t being honest — but you are down here,” and his lips find your clit, sucking lightly, making your head jerk back, “want them to know how good I make you feel,” his lips leave your clit with a small pop, before murmuring against the soft skin of your thigh, “be quiet for me, baby,” and his tongue slips back into your cunt. 

He’s nearly slurping your juices up, his tongue tasting every inch of you, deliciously dragging against your twitching walls with his piercing, as your toes curl and your mouth parts in a muffled moan, one hand clamped over your mouth, and the other digging into his scalp. How could the person not hear you? How couldn’t they hear the wet squelch of your cunt as Choso fucked it with his tongue? How couldn’t they hear your badly swallowed moans and the sounds of your heart pounding out of your chest — and if they did, they certainly didn’t care enough to stop browsing through the fucking store. 

And you’re close, so fucking close, and you don’t hear the footsteps drawing close to the fitting rooms because your ears only can hear the wet suck of his mouth against your clit or the press of his tongue in and out of your folds, your thighs twitching under his grasp, fingers pressed into your flesh, “Choso, I’m so—” 

“Cum f’me, need to feel you cum around my tongue,” he sucks on your clit hard, teeth grazing the sensitive spot, and you cum, hard, your hand forsaking your lips to find purchase on his head, squirting all over his face as you did, soaking him along with the bench of the fitting room. And you can’t help the whimpers and moans that left your lips, as he lapped up your release without a care. 

And you slump against the wall of the fitting room, body still buzzing from your orgasm, as he finally pulls his tongue out, glancing up at you. Your chest heaves as you watch him lick your cum from his lips and chin, before wiping the rest away, and your eyes drift downward to the erection he was palming. And your fingers unconsciously reach for it, when your hear a door slam shut making your both jump. 

You cover your mouth — the customer, and Choso’s eyes meets yours, as the two of you break out in a laugh, “Fucking lock the door next time,” you sigh, covering your burning face with your hands, as Choso chuckles, lips curled in a smile.

“So there’s going to be a next time?” he tilts his head, and you flush. 

How could he go from eating you out like a desperate man without water to this innocent puppy? “Not if you don’t lock the door,” 

“It’s their fault for coming in when the doors were closed and there was a sign that said closed in big letters on the door,” and you shake your head, as he draws closer, “now, I have twenty minutes of lunch left — so where were we?” 

And you push him towards the changing room door, “Go lock the door first,” and he relents, chuckling. 

“Just for that, I’m going to look for the clit sucker I couldn’t find before.” 

~~~~

The two of you had fallen into a pattern. 

And you had become a regular at Hot Topic. You hung around him as he stocked the shelves, did inventory, price re-labeling, and even as he spoke to customers. You watched other customers speak to Choso, even flirt with him, but he never cracked a smile. Two girls were very persistent, but they deflated as he walked away after answering their questions, brushing past you, his hand brushing against your ass discreetly. Heat rushes to your cheeks, your head snapping to him as his lips curl when your eyes catch his gaze. But even so…

You still were just as clueless of where you stood with him as you were when this started. 

“You two have been pretty hot and heavy lately, huh?” you nearly jump out of your skin, as Mahito smiles knowingly at you, leaning against the counter with a shiteating grin. 

“What are you—” 

“Please, like we don’t know what goes on in the back during breaks?” he raises an eyebrow, as you bite your lip, “plus, never have I seen that gloomy guy smile, much less as much he does with you,” 

“Really?” your eyes find him again, as he crouches and lines up blind boxes on one of the shelves — but you can’t help the nagging question circling in the back of your mind — why hasn’t he asked you out yet? The two of you have hooked up, in and out of the store, but he still hadn’t asked you on a date. Even in the last few weeks, the two of you hadn’t even spent any real time together, except for your visits to the store -- he hasn't even taken you into the back. For all you know, you’re one of many people he’s bedding. Even if he doesn’t seem the type. 

“What? Trouble in paradise?” Mahito pulls you from your thoughts, head tilted and all too eager, “what’s wrong?” 

“No, it’s—“ he cuts you off with a look, and you relent with a slight pout, “he just hasn’t asked me out yet, I’m just wondering what he’s thinking—“ 

“Well, I definitely don’t think he’s seeing anyone else,” he hums, “but he does tend to go straight home a lot when you’re not around. Maybe something is going on at home?” And then he’s pushing you towards him, “no time like the present to find out,” 

“Mahito—“ 

“Choso! How about you and your favorite regular go for a quick walk and get us some drinks from the food court?” He grins, offering some money,  “be a doll, won’t you?” 

Choso sighs, “Fine,” and he brushes past you, taking the cash, before glancing back at you, “you coming?” 

You glance between the two of them, before following him out of the store. You both walk in relative silence, slipping past customers, as you reach the food court. Choso orders, paying with the cash Mahito gave, as he passes you one of the drinks, “Choso, can I ask you something?” 

His eyes slide to you, “Of course,” and god, his eyes stop your thoughts in their tracks — he’s so unfairly gorgeous, funny, sweet — you didn’t want to screw this up. You open your mouth to speak when you hear a voice. 

“Big bro, that you?” A rush of pink hair and energy is wrapped around Choso all of a sudden, “I didn’t think you got off until later,” it’s a teen boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, his arm wrapped around Choso, and a varsity jacket on — this was Choso’s brother?

Choso cracked his rare smile, “I don’t get off until later, Yuji, but I came to grab a drink for Mahito,” and Yuji’s gaze slides to you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there,” he smiles a thousand watt smile, “I’m Yuji Itadori, Choso’s brother,” and he’s glancing between you and his brother, before his mouth falls into an ‘o,’ “are you his girlfriend?” 

“Yuji—“ Choso starts, a hint of a blush across his cheeks, as you stifle a laugh, “I thought you said you were going to study at home with Fushiguro.” 

“I wanted to see you when your shift got off — I thought we could have dinner together,” Yuji pouts, and Choso cracks in an instant, his lips curling. 

This boy had his brother wrapped around his finger. 

“Ok, but don’t goof off. Make sure to study,” and Yuji nods. 

“Nice to meet you,” and he leans in to whisper, “treat my brother good, ok?” And you flush, before nodding, as Choso raises an eyebrow, out of earshot. 

“I will,” 

“Cho, tell Mahito to fuck off for me,” and he’s off again, gone as fast as he came.

“Sorry about that,” Choso sighs, still a smile on his lips as he watches his brother in the distance, claiming one of the food court tables for himself and his friend, as he sits down next to a black haired boy, assumedly Fushiguro, “didn’t know Yuji would be here,” 

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” and he bites his lip. 

“It’s relatively new — we’re half brothers, but he just came back into my life. He doesn’t really have any other biological family. His grandfather just passed, and he’s staying with a teacher whose decided to foster him,” the two of you begin to walk back to the store, his gaze fixed downwards at the tacky mall carpeting, “he’s been staying with me for the last few weeks, while his foster father went on a vacation to Malaysia,” 

And now the pieces were clicking into place, “And that’s why you’ve been going home a lot lately,” and his dark eyes find yours with a tilt of his head, “I mean, you just haven’t had a lot of time lately,” you can’t meet his gaze, “it must be a lot to have a teenager staying with you.” 

“Yeah, he eats everything in the house, and he’s staying in my living room, which leaves little in the way of privacy,” and you can still feel the prickle of his gaze on you, “but I could use a break,” and you finally look and see a soft expression on his face, the same insecurity you had reflected in his gaze. 

No time like the present, right?

“Well, should we maybe go on a date?” and his cheeks flush a pretty red, all the way to the tips of his ears, “we’ve done plenty of other things that a couple would do, like—” 

And he’s shaking his head, “I know, I know!” he’s the one who can’t meet your eyes now, chewing his lip, “I’d like that — I get off my shift tonight at eight, I told Yuji we’d hang out, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind postponing—” 

“We can always do it tomorrow, I don’t want to keep you from your brother,” and his lips curl into a smile, “he’s a good kid,” 

“He is,” and his fingers find yours again, “I can tell Mahito that I’ll lock up tonight, and maybe after I do, we could—” 

“Have another lesson?” 

And eight o’clock rolls around far too slow, but Choso definitely isn’t moving slow when it’s only the two of you. 

He’s pulling you into the back again, the door swinging shut behind the two of you, his fingers tight around your wrists as he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, forcing your lips to part with a gasp, his tongue flicking against yours. The smooth surface of his piercing grazes against your tongue. 

And his fingers find the back of your neck, deepening the kiss impossibly, as his other hand slips down the curves of your body, pulling you against him, his clothed cock brushing against your aching cunt. 

Fuck. You had almost forgotten how big he was. 

And when you hear the zipper of his black jeans, you nearly melt against him, “Choso, please—” 

“I have to get you ready first, love,” his fingers find their way to the front of your jeans and undo the button, tugging the fabric down to your ankles. Cool air raises goosebumps across your skin, the pads of his fingers press against the wet patch of your panties, and he’s groaning, “but maybe I don’t,” 

“Fuck, so wet for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, as he’s walking you backwards, into one of the racks, his fingers press into the soft flesh of your thighs. And two fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear, joining your jeans, pooling around your ankles, “nearly ready now, but I still have to loosen you up,” his fingers tease your outer lips, dripping with your release. 

One of his finger’s slips in with practiced ease, making your hips jolt against his hand, your fingers curling around the metal bars of the rack in front of you. His finger was so much thicker and longer than yours, his digit toyed with your walls, teasing and stretching until he drew a soft groan from your lips. He was the only one who could make you this desperate, his lips pressed against your neck, the heat from his body has your mind reeling with pleasure. 

“Mmm, Choso, more—" and he’s adding another finger inside your still all too tight entrance, making you whimper, as the intrusion is all too much after a few weeks of not having him inside you. 

“So greedy,” he murmurs, the wet squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears, “you’re practically sucking me in, but it’s still not enough for you, is it?” his tongue drags against the outer shell of your ear, his piercing against your skin, before his mouth envelops your earlobe and sucks. 

His fingers are fucking you open, your eyes screwed shut as the tips brush against that spot, heat flooding your body. And you don’t hear the shuffling of his other hand through a box, until you hear the sound of sucking, “Choso—“ and he’s pressing the sucker against your clit, your mouth falling open as pleasure rips up your spine, the sucking sensation with the lewd noises of your pussy being finger fucked is too much. 

You cum all over his hand, your hand clamping over your mouth so no one hears your moans — and your legs quake as you come down from your high, as he eases his fingers from you, “so pretty,” he murmurs, and you can feel his dark, lidded eyes on your drenched cunt, watching your sticky release cling to his fingers, purple painted nails glinting in the low light. 

And he’s leaning forward, kissing down your back, as he turns you around gently, so your back is pressed against the rack. You kick off your underwear and pants. You’re still panting, chest rising and falling as his fingers press to your chin, lifting it so you meet his gaze, as he sucks his fingers clean of your cum. Heat pools again, as his fingers undo the leather belt and he’s tugging his jeans and black boxers down to his knees, his erection springs out, slapping against his stomach. 

Your mouth runs dry. 

Fuck, he’s even bigger than you thought. 

Ten inches? No, maybe eleven. How was that even possible? That shit would break you — but fuck — your cunt twitches — you kind of want it to break you. 

“Like what you see, Princess?” you lick your lips in response, and in a trance, your fingers are reaching for him, curling around the base before you slowly start to pump him. You’re rewarded with a moan, a noise that goes straight to your cunt, as your fingers move faster, trying to find the right rhythm. Pre-cum leaks from the top, as you tease his tip, before stroking back up the length of it. 

And he’s a beautiful mess, his pale features flushed a gorgeous red, as he presses his hand against his mouth so his moans wouldn’t resonate. And his pre-cum drips all over your fingers, slipping down your wrist even, as you lean forward to lick it off your own skin, while you meet his gaze. 

His head lolls back, eyes screwed shut now, and your fingers drift to his sack, stroking and teasing while your lips find the tip, sucking lightly before your tongue drags over the length of his cock. And god, he’s going to blow his load now, if you keep doing that, from the way his hips rock against your touch. 

His fingers weave into your hair, nails digging into your scalp, “Baby, ngh, it’s too good—fuck—” he’s so close, twitching in your mouth as you suck him from tip to base, tracing his slit with the tip of your tongue, “shit, I can’t—” and you suck hard on his cock, massaging his balls, and he’s gone — he’s pumping his cock into your mouth as his cum spurts down your throat, as you swallow it all too greedily. You pull away with a pop, a string of cum and saliva connecting you to his dick still, before you wipe it away. 

He’s leaning against the rack, chest heaving as he watches you with lust blown out eyes, sweat sheen on his face, “Haa, baby, s’good f’me,” and somehow he’s still hard, as you rise to your feet, thighs pressed together, your eyes fixed on his cock, “you don’t have to—” 

And he’s still so sweet — his eyebrows knit together as he’s examining you with concern, but you’re only shaking your head, as you press a sweet kiss to his lips, “I need you, Choso, please,” and he’s nodding, lips meeting yours in a heady kiss that steals your breath, and he’s made you brace yourself against the rack, fingers curled around the cool metal. 

Your folds are exposed to him, slick and dripping, even wetter than before, “You liked sucking me off that much, love?” he murmurs, kissing your neck, before he’s dragging the tip of his cock against your needy cunt, “I’ll go slow,” he assures you, as you nod. 

He’s sinking into you inch by inch — and not even halfway, you already feel like you’re ready to burst, “So big, Choso, I—” and he’s murmuring quiet reassurances, as he’s parting your folds, the pain drawing a gasp from your lips, as he finally bottoms out. 

“S’good, baby, so tight,” he’s moaning, You’re taking deep breaths, pain ebbing with each second that passes. Choso pressing sweet kisses to your neck, his hands slipping under your shirt to tease your perked nipples, mixing pain with pleasure. Tears burn at your tear ducts, as you breathe shaky breaths, and finally pain ebbs away, and pleasure grows in its place.

“S’full, so big,” you pant, growing more needy by the second, he’s reaching places you’d only dreamt of — his leaking tip kissing your cervix, “move, p-please—ah!” 

And he does as you say, pulling ever so slowly out before pushing back in, grunting as he does as your tight cunt adjusts to his size and length — bullying your insides in a way no toy could ever compare to. You swear you can feel every inch, every curve, every vein as he rocks into you. 

“So pretty f’me,” he’s moaning, stifled by his bitten lip, as your walls only seem to pull him back deeper each time he pulls out,  “so perfect, take me so well,” he’s murmuring, as he teases your tits between his thumb and forefinger, “pretty cunt made just for me, isn’t that right, Princess?” 

“Yes, yes, Choso,” and his pace only grows faster, just as his groans grow louder. 

“No one else can fuck you like this, make you feel this good, can’t wait to feel you cummin’ around me,” he’s panting, his fingers tweaking your nipples, squeezing, as he fucks you deeper and deeper, his tip hitting your cervix deliciously again and again, “feels s’good, so wet and warm for me—” his hand comes down on your ass now, making you gasp, your cunt squeezing around him. 

Drool slips from your mouth, as you get closer and closer to cumming — the telltale flutter of your walls, “Choso, I’m coming, I can’t—” 

“Cum for me, let me fill you up,” and his fingers reach around to press a vibrator to your clit, and you’re cumming, falling apart on his cock, as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. The squelch of your cunt and the way you squeeze him has him falling apart, spurting and painting your walls. 

The two of you slump forward, your legs nearly buckling, as you cling to the rack, before he’s easing both of you back onto a bench in the stock room. Your quiet pants fill the silence of the room, as he eases himself out, groaning as you both watch your mixed releases leak out of your cunt. 

“I don’t think I can walk after that,” and he chuckles in your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll carry you,” and you laugh, his favorite noise in the world, as you slowly turn, making him groan as your soaked pussy grinds against his dick. 

“So then you can lift me up when I drop it?” your lips are curled in that same smile that had him hypnotized from the moment he saw it, and he can only reply with a bruising kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, as you sunk yourself onto his dick again. 

God. He needed to buy you tickets to Warped Tour. 

~~~

The next time you show up to Hot Topic, you weren’t showing up to buy any merchandise. 

“Hey emo boy!” you call out, making Choso turn with a smile on his lips — the one especially reserved for you. 

“Hi baby,” he murmurs, kissing you softly, his arm around your waist, “I’m almost done. I just have to punch out.” 

You lean in, words whispered against his ear, “And then you’re gonna come fuck me?” 

You were picking up your boyfriend. 

He smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist, before kissing you again, “You know I will.” 

note: i couldn't find who made this incredible art that i used after searching and searching, so if anyone knows, please let me know so i can credit them above in the description. this fic has been a long time coming since that silly blurb i wrote after watching one too many thirst edits of choso. edit: i found the artist: its @/SS_utr3n on twt!!!

tag list: @uroldall, @jlovesfrogs, @existential54321, @staryukis, @samistars, @chosoilysm, @astroholic, @emii4evr, @rose1238, @butterflieskeepcominback, @divinely-yourz, @fishii28, @seresukuin, @misalsmistake, @xkaidaxxxx, @cappric, @famebydefinition, @theatergeek, @sousblogga, @averagelonelypotato, @timesnewreader, @chrvstxl, @darylthekidd, @merelydaydreaming, @notafan77, @naughtygobbo, @smiley-babe, @butterflieskeepcominback, @entirelytoooobsessed, @acenanxious

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🌙Currently close for requesting a smut/fluff/angst.

🌹for smut , ❤️ for fluff , 🥀 for angst

Kaeya

🌹 smut

Plaything

Jealousy

Mangastore

❤️ fluff

Complimenting

Thoma

🌹 smut

Honey

Darling

Sweetheart

Threesome

Plaything

Baby

Childe

🌹 smut

Imagine

Drabble

Threesome

Plaything

Honey

Mangastore

❤️ fluff

Complimenting

Diluc

🌹 smut

Morning

Husbando

Drabble

Friends heard you moaning

Plaything

Baby

Mangastore

A night at his lair

Sweetheart

Morning Drabble

❤️ fluff

Complimenting

Zhongli

🌹 smut

Rainy Day

Drabble

Plaything

Mangastore

Beloved

❤️ fluff

Complimenting

Itto

🌹 smut

Drabble

F**k him and his stamina pt.1

pt.2

Lumine

🌹 smut

Traveler….

Xiao

🌹 smut

First time

OC Stories [ Genshin ]

Luna x Diluc [ Finally Mine ]

Miya Twins

🌹 smut

Osamu x f!reader x Atsumu

Ushijima

Sweet Pleasure

Vyn

🌹 smut

Caught

Marius

🌹smut

Imagine

Ryomen Sukuna

🌹 🥀 smut and angst

Lily

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

AVATAR

Neteyam

— Need you close to me || series

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || EPILOGUE

Expiation - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Even after slaying the High Kingdom's greatest enemy and sparing its people from a terrible fate, Shigaraki Tomura's past crimes make him an outcast in the castle. Still, someone has to attend to him, and that someone is you -- and unlike the maids who came before you, you're not afraid to ask a question. (cross-posted to A03)

This is a birthday gift for @sophsiaaa based on a suggestion of a fantasy AU Shigaraki x reader. Happy birthday (although it's definitely a bit late)!

You hear the rumors long before you see him, but the story of his arrival is told to you so many times that it’s etched into your head. It was a beautiful spring day, the fields surrounding the castle bright with wildflowers, the air humming with butterflies and bees – the kind of day on which nothing bad is allowed to happen. And then the world went still. The sun seemed to dim. The air fell silent, empty of insects and birds, and even the flowers cringed away as he led his horse past, walking so slowly that it seemed he knew his presence poisoned the world, and reveled in it. The dark knight, the one they call the White Death. Shigaraki Tomura.

The rumors are terrible, and most of them are true, but no one finds the High Kingdom unless they were meant to be here. You remember the day you stumbled out of the Forest Perilous, last of a party of dozens who had all set out together, the only one to reach the castle. The castle chose you, the same as it chose everyone born outside the walls who now resides within. The same is true of Shigaraki Tomura – Sir Tomura, or Lord Tomura, anything but the dread title he’s earned on the battlefield. There is some purpose to his presence here, although neither you nor anyone else can imagine what it is.

Most knights come to the High Kingdom with squires and servants, hauling supplies and gifts and finery to please the king. The White Death comes alone, and bears no gift – no gift other than the one he’s rumored to have tossed at King Izuku’s feet. That rumor is terrible, too. But it it’s true, it means that Shigaraki Tomura crossed a line no one else had dared to touch – in taking on the King’s fated enemy, the man prophesied to destroy the High Kingdom, and slaying him himself. Tearing down his armies himself. Singlehandedly wrecking a prophecy that has hung over the Kingdom’s head since it was first spoken, a prophecy of death and destruction that would bring a mighty kingdom to its knees.

And you suppose it did. After all, the prophecy, never said it would be your kingdom that fell.

King Izuku offers Shigaraki Tomura a seat on his council, over the objections of the rest of the council. Shigaraki Tomura accepts. And then the question turns to where he should be house, and what level of opulence is appropriate for his room, and because the gods hate you or because you’re just unlucky, you’re assigned from all the servants to help him decorate it. To create a dwelling space fit for a hero, meant to house someone who cannot be called anything but a villain.

You knock hesitantly at the door, struggling to balance the heavy wooden chest you’re carrying at the same time. When that fails to produce a response, you call out, your voice thin as it echoes through the deserted wing of the palace. “Lord Tomura?”

The door unlocks with a sharp click, then swings open, and you suck in a breath. You heard he had magic – most in the High Kingdom do, you included – but it’s considered crass to flaunt it for things that could otherwise be done by hand. You step through the door into a large, empty room. The only features in it are a window without a single pane of glass, an armoire with doors gaping open, and a canopy bed bare of both canopy and sheets. The infamous white armor is piled in the corner of the room, along with the white sword his enemies call Decay. The White Death himself sits on the edge of the bed.

He doesn’t look away from the spot on the wall where he’s fixed his eyes. “What do you want?”

“My Lord.” You bow, or curtsy, or do some awkward mix of both at once. It doesn’t matter. He’s not looking at you. “I was sent to help you put your room in order.”

“This is fine.” Shigaraki Tomura’s voice is flat and icy, devoid of anything but apathy. “The window is a nice touch.”

You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. You would be, if you were a knight and not a maid. “The window will be fixed, my Lord. In the meantime, I was sent to arrange the rest of your room. I’ve brought many things for you to choose from.”

“Many things.” He looks up at last, and you catch your breath at the sight of his crimson eyes. It’s all too easy to imagine his enemies freezing in terror, those eyes the last thing they saw before the darkness closed in. “That chest is too small for many things.”

“It’s larger on the inside,” you say. He raises an eyebrow – or he would, if he had them. “Do I have your leave to show you?”

“If it’s the case that you won’t leave me be until you do.” The White Death looks away, and you come a few steps closer. A few steps, and then a few more, until you can set the chest down within his eyeline and kneel down to open it. “What is that?”

“No one could tell me what you preferred, so I brought some of everything.” You were hoping to avoid being berated. You’re starting to think that’s unlikely. “There are sheets for the bed – and choices for the canopy, also. These are for the walls – most knights have tapestries made of your great deeds, but you’ve only just arrived. They won’t be ready for a little while.”

“Great deeds,” Shigaraki – Sir Tomura – sneers. Your ears burn. “Yes, I’m sure the weavers are lining up to chronicle mine.”

“If you say so, my Lord.” You lift out a set of curtains – curtains, for a broken window. Whoever left this for you to deal with, you hope they catch the plague. “Er, the window –”

“I didn’t say so,” Sir Tomura interrupts. You look up at him. “I have done no great deeds. It is no honor to be on your knees at my feet.”

“Pardon me, my Lord. I never said it was.”

You shouldn’t have spoken. You bow your head hastily, but not before you see a flash of interest in the White Death’s eyes. “A punishment, then. Tell me, who did you displease?”

“Nor did I say it was a punishment.” You’ve already gotten yourself in trouble. You may as well explain. “It is my duty to serve the nobles of the High Kingdom. You are one of them. And you’ve done the kingdom a great service.”

“I didn’t do it for you. Or for your wretched kingdom.” Sir Tomura is looking at you, still. You can feel the heat of his gaze on your shoulders, the exposed curve of your neck. “I might have destroyed your kingdom just as easily.”

You know that. It’s why everyone fears him, why a man with a lean, slender build casts such a long shadow. “Then why did you choose his?”

“You both wronged me. He wronged me worse.” Sir Tomura goes silent for a moment, and you dare a glance up at him. His face is still, the sneer long-gone. “And because you wronged me, too, you must suffer my presence. In honor of the great deed I have done.”

Now he sounds bitter, mocking – but not of you. He’s looking at you again. “And what terrible deed have you done, that you do not fear to raise your eyes to me?”

“Is that a requirement for meeting your eyes, my Lord?” It strikes you as an odd thing to say, when any other knight would remark on your temerity at gazing upon any noble’s face. “I did not come here to pass judgment on your deeds. I came to make your room a fitting place for a person to live.”

“Indeed,” Sir Tomura says. “But unlike the five maids who preceded you, you have not fled from the sight of me. Why?”

You would answer him if you knew, but you don’t. The rumors of him terrified you, the same as everyone else. You were frightened as you knocked at the door, frightened when you stepped into the room, and even though he’s weaponless, you have no doubt that he knows dozens of spells that will kill you where you stand. There is no doubt that the man in front of you is the White Death, the terror of battlefields across the known world, the ruination of a kingdom most thought would stand forever and the slayer of a king most thought could not be killed and the destruction of a prophecy that went unchallenged for a hundred years. You should be terrified, just as you were before, and you’re certainly wary. But you aren’t frightened any longer.

The White Death is waiting for an answer. “If I had an answer, I would give it, my Lord,” you say. You look away and begin to unpack from the chest. “Does my Lord have a preference as to colors?”

“No.” Sir Tomura’s voice carries an odd rasp, whether he’s scornful or not. “Do what you want.”

So he’ll allow you to complete your task. You wonder if the five maids who apparently preceded you tried to hold a conversation, or if they simply ran away the instant he opened the door. Some part of you wants to decorate his room in bright colors, something cheerful, but you don’t have the sense that he’ll appreciate it. You’d be better off giving him something to look at, since he spends so long staring off into space. You choose fabrics in muted colors, woven with small illusions here and there, patterns that move and change in response to the human eye. It’s likely that Sir Tomura will spend a lot of time here. He doesn’t seem to like people very much. His room should at least be a pleasant place to be.

When you’ve covered key portions of the walls, leaving space for the inevitable tapestries, you move on to laying out rugs. The stone floors in the castle are cool in the summer, cold in the winter, and Sir Tomura’s feet are bare, his boots kicked into the same pile as his sword and armor. You don’t have as many choices with the rugs. They are nothing but bright colors, woven together from scraps of fabric, and you lay them out hastily, hoping he continues to prefer staring at walls to staring at floors. Then you turn your attention to the armor. It needs to be stored properly, and there isn’t a stand in the room.

You turn to face Sir Tomura and find that he’s already watching you. “If you give me leave, my Lord, I’ll retrieve a stand for your armor.”

“It can stay where it is.”

Most knights pride themselves on their armor. Most pride themselves too much. “Won’t it rust?”

“Until it crumbles away. I don’t care.”

You don’t understand. “Sir –”

“It’s no use to me any longer.” Sir Tomura rises from the bed for the first time and crosses the room, moving with catlike grace. He lifts the breastplate from the pile one-handed and holds it out for you to inspect. You can’t miss the problem – it’s been cleaved almost in two by a single strike, torn apart as only cursed steel can do. “It can’t be fixed.”

“The best smiths in the world work here,” you venture. Sir Tomura scoffs. “They reforged One For All, and that sword was broken into nine pieces.”

“Yes, we’ve all heard the story. Good King Izuku gathered the nine pieces of One For All and proved he was the rightful king.” The disdain in the White Death’s voice is withering. “The rightful king, but not a good one. The king before him was worthless, and the queen before him, too – they let their greatest enemy grow and prosper, throughout their entire reigns.”

“They fought back,” you protest. “Queen Nana was killed fighting him – King Toshinori was badly wounded –”

“And King Izuku never tried,” Sir Tomura sneers. “In spite of their goodness, they turned away. They were too good to do what had to be done, so it fell to me to slay the monster and tear down his throne.”

Sir Tomura wasn’t mentioned in the prophecy. Why would it fall to him? “And look what I’ve done,” he continues. A harsh laugh tears free from his throat. “Spared a kingdom of cowards and fools from destruction they deserve only slightly less.”

The questions bursts out of you. “If you despise us so much, why did you come here?”

“This kingdom owes me a debt,” Sir Tomura says. “I have nowhere else to go.”

You have nothing to say in response to that. You expect Sir Tomura to look pleased at silencing you, but he doesn’t. “Receive a stand for my armor if you wish it,” he says, and you depart, feeling sick to your stomach.

The White Death’s words cling to you as you search for a spare armor stand. What had to be done. What could he mean by that? What would the White Death do that the good kings and queens of your kingdom wouldn’t try? The answer occurs to you at once. Dark magic. Magic that corrupts the mind and soul, magic that leaves cursed wounds and blighted lands in its wake. Of course the kings and queens of the High Kingdom would never do such a thing. But if that was what it would take to end the Enemy’s reign of terror, then maybe –

It’s not your place to decide such things. You find a spare stand in the armory and cart it back to the deserted wing of the palace, only to be accosted on the way by the tailor Hakamada. “You’re attending him? Good. These are for the feast tonight.”

He thrusts a package into your arms, even though your hands are already full. “Ensure he wears them. His presence is an affront, but he’ll be properly dressed if it’s the last thing I do.”

Given that Hakamada isn’t the one forcing the new clothes on Sir Tomura, it’s more likely to be the last thing you do. You set off again, struggling under the weight of both the package and the stand at once.

Sir Tomura seems surprised that you’ve returned, but he doesn’t mock you over it – yet. He allows you to set up the stand, and to begin to store his armor properly, although he refuses to allow you anywhere near the sword. “It’s cursed,” he says, even though you didn’t ask. “Once it tastes a victim’s blood, that person is doomed to wither and rot. Did you know that?”

“I heard rumors,” you say carefully. “There are many rumors about you.”

“They aren’t rumors if they’re true,” Sir Tomura says. “Almost all of them are.”

It doesn’t surprise you that the White Death knows his own legends. “Which ones aren’t?”

Sir Tomura doesn’t answer. He’s investigating the package from Hakamada, which you set down on the end of the still-unmade bed. You, meanwhile, find yourself transfixed by the tear in the breastplate of his armor. It’s been split nearly in half. You lean closer, paper and fabric rustling behind you, in order to peer at the edges of the breastplate, the padding inside, and a needle of shock and fear drives itself through you. All of it is stained with blood. “My Lord –”

You turn to find yourself facing Sir Tomura half-dressed, in clean breeches and bare feet, having just removed his shirt. His bare skin is laced with scars, some old and some newer, but none so terrible as the enormous wound in his chest, so fresh it can barely be called healed. It matches the tear in the breastplate exactly. Sir Tomura glances at the breastplate, then at you. Then he turns away.

“My Lord,” you start, “if you need a healer –”

“It’s a cursed wound,” Sir Tomura says. “It will never heal.”

That was in the prophecy, too – something about a blow from which the victor will never recover. You know it’s half the reason King Izuku held off. He has no heir, nor an obvious successor among his advisors, and everyone assumed the blow described in the prophecy would be fatal. You mind feels frozen, caught between horror and sadness and trapped in confusion. If what everyone says is true, and it is, Shigaraki Tomura is a monster. If what everyone says is true, and it is, King Izuku is a good king. If both of those things are true, then why did the monster fulfill the prophecy? Why has the good king offered him so meager a welcome? You don’t know what to do with the White Death, who saved your kingdom, whose infamous fury has yet to make an appearance since he arrived at the castle.  Neither does anyone else.

Sir Tomura is fumbling with his new shirt, cursing. You abandon the armor and come forward. “May I help, my Lord?”

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t refuse, and you take the risk of helping anyway, straightening the useless ruffles, doing up the pearl buttons, staying well clear of the terrible wound. “It takes a monster to slay a monster,” the White Death says, as you smooth out the lines of his shirt. “And now you all must live with the monster that survived.”

He looks down at you, the ghost of the sneer from before distorting his features. “Is that pity I see on your face? Save your pity. It’s useless to me.”

“I don’t pity you,” you say. You can’t – not when he’s done such terrible things, not when you can’t begin to calculate whether what he did in fulfilling the prophecy cancels any of them out. But you do feel something. You can be honest about that. “I was thinking that it was a brave thing to do, my Lord. To face the Enemy when you weren’t the chosen one, and knowing that the consequences were severe even if you should win. That is all.”

A hint of surprise crosses Shigaraki Tomura’s face. “Do the words monster and villain mean nothing to you?”

“They do,” you say. “But I have never seen it written that a monster cannot be brave. Or that a villain must always be a villain.”

The White Death scoffs. “Are you waiting for me to become a true knight?”

“Only as long as you would wait for me to become a fair lady,” you say. “That is to say, a very long time.”

“A long time to become a lady, perhaps.” Sir Tomura extends one hand towards you, slowly, as though he’s expecting you to flinch or bolt. “You were fair before you knelt at my feet.”

You’re not sure what he means to do with his hand, but you reach out and capture it anyway. There’s only one thing you can think of to do, and you do it – bow low over it to kiss his knuckles, just as you’ve seen lords do for their ladies a thousand times. And you speak, words you’re certain no one has uttered since he arrived. “Thank you for what you did. Even if it was not done for us,” you say. “And thank you, too, for saying I was fair. You did not need to say that.”

“I didn’t lie.” Sir Tomura has yet to take his hand back. You don’t know what to do but keep holding it. “It seems that you are in my debt now.”

Just like that, you’re nervous again. You know what knights often ask, or demand, from the women who cross their paths. “How shall I repay it?”

“This feast,” the White Death says. You look up, startled. “You will accompany me.”

“My Lord –”

“Since I have arrived here, no one has met my eyes, nor spoken to me as you have.” He’s averting his eyes from yours now. “I would like to spend one evening in the company of someone who does not find my company torturous.”

“I would, my Lord, but it is simply not done.” You’re surprised at how upsetting it is to be unable to grant such a simple wish. You let go of his hand and drop into a curtsy, replacing the distance that should exist between you, rather than the odd intimacy of the last few moments. “No true knight would bring a servant as his companion to a royal feast.”

“I see,” Sir Tomura says. His hand slips beneath your chin, tilting your face upwards, and you see that same flash of interest in his red eyes. This time it has staying power, as his callused hand molds to the shape of your jaw and his lips curve into the first smile you’ve seen from him. “It’s fortunate, then, that I am no true knight.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

✧˚ · . 𝚁𝙷𝚈𝚂𝙰𝙽𝙳

Enchanted ꕥ

A Springtime Storm ┊͙

So American ꕥ

✧˚ · . 𝙲𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙰𝙽

Red ＊

Sing To Me

✧˚ · . 𝙰𝚉𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙻

Casual ┊͙(pt. 2) ┊͙

Guilty as Sin?＊(pt. 2)

Our Worlds Collided

Once Upon A Dream ＊

Midnights ┊͙

✧˚ · . 𝙻𝚄𝙲𝙸𝙴𝙽

Unsettled 2 3 4 5

Dream Come True

An Enticing Offer ┊͙

Jealousy, Jealousy ꕥ

Bad Idea, Right? ┊͙

✧˚ · . 𝙴𝚁𝙸𝚂

I Look In People’s Windows ＊

Dangerous Woman ┊͙(pt. 2)

I’m the “Bad Guy”

Invisible String 2 3 4 5 6 Finale

✧˚ · . 𝚃𝙰𝙼𝙻𝙸𝙽

Mr. Ro…Mantic?

Discussions in… Strategy ┊͙

A Chance Meeting ꕥ

✧˚ · .𝙼𝚄𝙻𝚃𝙸 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂

Prompt Request Masterlist

TikTok Thirst Traps

Birthday Celebrations ꕥ

Caught in 4k HC┊͙

Too Hot To Handle 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Finale

Random Tropes HC (pt. 2)

What Happens On NYE…

Ideal Mate + Ideal Date HC

Dance For Me, Baby HC

✧˚ · . 𝚇𝙰𝙳𝙴𝙽

Please Please Please H.C.

✧˚ · . 𝙻𝙸𝙰𝙼

Tight Black Leathers┊͙

✧˚ · .𝚁𝙸𝙳𝙾𝙲

Dress ┊͙

Denial Is A River┊͙

✧˚ · .𝙱𝚁𝙴𝙽𝙽𝙰𝙽

I (Almost) Don't Believe You

✧˚ · .𝙱𝙾𝙳𝙷𝙸

The Sting of Jealousy ┊͙

✧˚ · .𝙼𝚄𝙻𝚃𝙸 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂

Prompt Request Masterlist

Good Things Come in Groups of Three ┊͙Round 2┊͙

Birthday Celebrations ꕥ

✝️ • she/her • music enthusiast 🎧 • 📚 reading enthusiast js a girl obsessing with fictional men ♡

𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭.. (the neighborhood)

(･ω･)つ andy’s notes: many folks requested this menace, enjoy! cws: smut, all characters 20+, fantasies about oral - m!receiving, face fucking, dirty talk, degradation, gn!reader

touchstarved!isagi who practically has entire playbooks dedicated to how to talk to you. attempts to get advice from his teammates, but they're all equally bad at flirting

touchstarved!isagi who is about as subtle as a brick to the head when it comes to liking you. big ol’ eyes following you around wherever you go, yap mode set to 11 whenever you sit next to him

touchstarved!isagi who is the nastiest little pervert as soon as he’s alone, fisting his cock and daydreaming about you trembling underneath him

touchstarved!isagi who can’t believe his fucking luck when you agree to go out with him

touchstarved!isagi who stutters and blushes when you hold his hand on your after-dinner stroll

touchstarved!isagi whose makes his confidence known later that night, laughing between your thighs, your arousal dripping from his chin. "did you think I was done, princess? just gettin' started" (good luck walking tomorrow)

2025 © all works belong to @sugarwarachan. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works. masterlist here. divider by @bernardsbendystraws

i hope you find something you like <3

My Hero Academia 

Jujutsu Kaisen 

Twisted Wonderland 

Blue Lock

Tokyo Revengers

Dr. Stone

Demon Slayer

Wind Breaker

Black Clover

One Piece

Gachiakuta

Sakamoto Days

Misc.

last updated 3/16/2025

all of my work is tagged #mimi’s notes or #mimi’s thirsts

Izuku Midoriya Masterlist

All my exclusive Midoriya content in one place

💚 - Smut is present

🌱- Midoriya Family Shenanigans therefore contains children of Izuku and reader

🥀 - Angst is present

Missed me?: After six months, your villain boyfriend finally makes it back to you

Missed me (alt. ending): What if the reader got shot? - Very angsty with 2 scenerios.

I am Here: Alpha Midoriya comes to your aid protecting you.

A Lighter Day: Where your villanous boyfriend realizes just how bad he is and almost crumbles at the seams. Luckily he has you to keep him together.

Villain Izuku with a reader who has ADHD

His Angel: Villain Izuku with a frormer Yakuza reader

Izuku Midoriya x Reader Week 2022!

Villain Deku accidentally kills his darling.

Izuku with a breeding kink 💚

Villain Izuku falling for you

Adrenaline Lust: Villain Deku and you have just escaped the police and heroes but not without having to drop bodies on the way. But as you try to catch your breath, your darling lover can't get his eyes off of you. 💚

Izuku Headcannons (golden retriever boyfriend): Now Izuku is such a sweetheart. It is one of the very well known things about him. He’s kind and sweet, caring, great with kids… suspiciously like a dog. You didn’t really notice his rather happy-go-lucky instincts until you really watched him.

The Contract: When you broke up with Katsuki, you thought it was the end for you. No marriage. No family. No white picket fence. You had spent so much time on Katsuki and now it all just fell to the wind. But what if a certain green haired hero offered you a contract, offered you the dream life of security and happiness all for the small price of being his wife? Love wasn’t in the plan but maybe it was in the fine print.💚🥀

Love and Villainy: Izuku accidentally falls in love with you, a villain

Well... aren't you a pretty doll? - Masterlist: You accidentally spill your drink on an army soldier and he becomes absolutely smitten with you.

Pregnant feral reader: There's something about being pregnant with his baby that turns you crazy. 💚💚💚

Pregnant feral reader 2.💚💚💚

Best Husband in the world award goes to Midoriya Izuku💚🌱

Say hi to Kacchan: Katsuki calls you while you and Izuku are busy having sex. It does not end well for him. 💚

What's the answer?: Izuku edges you until you get the answer right💚

It's been a long day: Izuku has had a long day and he blows up at you by accident.🥀

"FUCK YOU!": Izuku is sick and tired of Katsuki always berating him

Mister Tree: You come home drunk after a fun time with friends and your husband takes care of you. However, you make it pretty hard to do so by calling him a tree.

Oh my God! HE'S MOVING!: You and your husband feel your son move in your tummy for the first time.

Let's go Home: Your Yandere! Husband comes to take you back home.

DILF IZUKU CORNER:

Angry Dilf Izuku: Your husband doesn’t take lightly to people staring at your ass, especially if it’s Bakugou Katsuki.💚🌱

The Girl: You and your husband have only ever had boys... until you didn't. 🌱

Angry Dilf Izuku Pt2: It’s your birthday and your husband makes it loud and clear that Katsuki isn’t welcomed here anymore.🌱

Cheating Dilf Izuku: After the loss of one of your sons, you couldn't dream that your once loving husband would ever cheat on you.🌱🥀

Don't worry Mommy: You are about to embark on your first outing since giving birth and you can't help but think you should just stay at home. But Izuku assures you that everything is going to be fine.🌱

Cheating Dilf Izuku Masterlist🌱🥀

I want a little brother!: Your fourth son, Shoyo, wants a little brother and now your husband won't stop asking you.🌱🥀

I'm so blessed: Izuku and you wake up from a nap, and Izuku realises how blessed he is to have his wife and son here with him.🌱

You should definitely talk to my wife: Another mom tries to hit on your husband🌱

Our type of marriage: Your boys have always wondered why you and Izuku had such different roles in the home, so you decide to try and explain it🌱

You're really selfish: Reader dies and Toshinori is left to carry the peices because Izuku can't will himself to do anything now that you're gone.🌱🥀

How would Normal Dilf Izuku act after the death of his son?🌱🥀

Izuku and lactation kink: You've had a bad day and you feel so full. Luckily Izuku is here to make you feel all better.💚

How does DILF Izuku treat Ochaco in the normal Dilf AU?

Anger and Misunderstandings Pt 1 of 2: An anon had asked me what if we had Angry Dilf Izuku but one of his kids disrespected reader, like what happened with angry Dilf Katsuki.🌱🥀

Anger and Misunderstandings Pt 2 of 2🌱🥀

Happy Birthday Kane: Bakugou’s son, Kane never really knew what home felt like in a long time, but he finds it it in a place right in front of him.🌱

How would DILF Izuku react when something goes wrong when reader is in labour?🥀

A Hard Time: You are having a difficult pregnancy.🥀

Midoriya Family Shenanigans:

Your mom is lowkey hot: Your eldest son moves into the dorms and his friends find you to be a milf.🌱

The eyes never lie: Your eldest son isn't exactly sure who he should ask out.🌱

Itchy Sweaters: You try to sit the boys down for a Christmas photo🌱

Mom!: As a mother, you lack privacy.🌱

Marshmallows: You can't reach the top shelf of the marshmallows well pregnant, and you think its a great time to jump Izuku.🌱

Baking Mayhem 1: You come downstairs from a nap to find that all hell has broken loose in your kitchen🌱

MY EYES!! : Your eldest son walks into your room at the wrong time.💚🌱

Go wash the dishes!: You drag Asahi by his ears to go wash the dishes🌱

Toshinori winning the sports festival🌱

Midoriya family online shenanigans🌱

Shut up, Mom! : Toshinori manages to convince you to pull a prank on his father, and it does NOT go well. 💚🌱

When you were younger: The boys see pictures from when you were younger

... Totally worth it. : Your eldest son is being hunted down by his girlfriends father (Eijiro)🌱