#nsft content hinted at

[k-kizkhalifa]

Thankful (76 words) by kizkhalifa Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Additional Tags: 1st POV, Draco pov, drarrymicrofic, Stalker!Draco, toxic!draco, Hints at non-con/dub-con

Source of prompt and image: @drarrymicrofic

[foxglove-nymph]

i deserve your money. you want to buy me all the cute things i desire. you need me to drain you completely 🥰

[knavesflames]

Hello, I hope your day goes well as you're reading this!

If your request is still open, can I request touch deprived! Arlecchino and Touch deprived! Reader? Like reader is very clingy and affectionate to her closest friends because she's been deprived of physical affection since she was younger, and Arlecchino who's also touch deprived but unlike reader who has no problem with physical affection, she finds it hard to do it, but when she meets reader who's hugs are so comfortable she's grown addicted to it and craves her gentle touches more and more, thank you! Have a great day or night!

(I realise I’m apologising on every post for the late ones, but I’m almost caught up to a reasonable delay) hi anon!! I feel this hard, I am so affectionate because I was touch starved as a child. Though, I focused this writing piece more on Arlecchino. I love exploring her and her being in character and slightly OOC too. (She’s my comfort character, can you guys tell?) thank you for the ask!

Word count: 1k

Content: fluff, Arlecchino is touched starved, she loves you

Nsft utc!

Arlecchino and you have come from completely different backgrounds (that are unfortunately all too similar as well). You worked well together even so, your routines matching each other, the same sense of humour. By that, I mean, you joked, her lips barely turned up, and she hummed in response (which is equivalent to your wheezing on the sofa over.. a silly cat?). The point is, you worked. You both made sense together. Except one, tiny little detail.

You loved physical touch, and she despised it. Once you discovered how it felt, you were obsessed. You loved the way your body was enveloped by arms that seemed like they’d block out the whole world for you.

Arlecchino hated physical touch. She isn’t used to it, she grew up with her horrifying excuse for a Mother, and physical affection was used often as manipulation rather than anything else, she saw that much with what happened to her dear, dear friend (who haunts her dreams).

The first time Arlecchino held you was a year into your relationship. She awoke during the night to an empty bed, and when she made her way towards the living room, she saw you, in tears on the sofa. A bad dream, you had said, and nothing more. Arlecchino saw the way your body was almost aching for some sort of touch, and despite the discomfort, her arms wrapped around you. Awkward, clumsy, and a little bit forced, but she hugged you. She had not hugged someone since she was sixteen. Without a word, her thumb stroked against your arm, and she felt the way your body slumped against her body. She felt like a burning fire, you realised, most likely due to the flames running through her veins, but you welcomed it nonetheless.

She began to notice that holding you in her embrace was not as torturous as she assumed. Arlecchino held you until you fell asleep.

Her embraces were few and far between, reserved only for special moments or moments where she can see you need them. Her facial expression never changes, but over time, she becomes slightly more comfortable with every hug. She ended up craving your embraces, the way your hand gingerly caresses her cheek and your lips on her skin, the gentle squeeze on her arm when you go past her. She wanted so desperately to associate touch with you instead, someone she knows could never hurt a spider.

Eventually, she begins allowing it more and more, and even begins silently hinting when she wants one by sighing slightly louder, or grumbling a bit when things go wrong, only to feel a fuzzy warmth inside when you smile at her and give a gentle touch. Both you and Arlecchino wonder if she will one day make the first move.

Arlecchino does not know why she dislikes physical affection so much. She enjoys buying gifts she knows you will cherish and love instead, doing things at a distance. This was never supposed to be anything more than a fling, she didn’t want investment, she didn’t want any affection to be returned, but she fell for you, and hard. She dislikes how vulnerable she has become around you, but a part of her deep down inside of her likes it too. Arlecchino is scared you will leave, that you will ruin her one day, and she feels like it won’t happen if she doesn’t let on how hard she has fallen. (Everyone knows and says nothing.)

Perhaps she prefers affection the way she does, unrequited and with little investment, is because some part of her craves a love so great that it would tear her apart, and that frightens her. She does not know how to receive love, yet she still wants a love that will consume her entire being and burn hotter than the flames that course through her veins with every beat of her slowly-thawing heart. You are thawing her, she knows that much.

The weather chills the way her touch grows warmer, and winter comes quickly. The winter in Snezhnaya was cold and biting, and despite her accommodating her home for you (she clearly does not need it) by lighting the fireplace and leaving you blankets, the cold still finds its way into your bones, leaving you shivering. One night, when it is the coldest night of the year, you find yourself unable to sleep at all. You lay awake in the dark, thinking about your past the way you always do at night, shivering so hard you’re practically vibrating.

At some point, you hear her stirring, and you try to quiet yourself, to make sure she can continue sleeping. She noticed the second she opened her eyes, though. Doesn’t she always? She is glad you are pretending to sleep so you do not see the hesitation in her eyes before she snaps herself out of it and does what you both want her to. Wordlessly, she shuffles a few inches closer and her arm wraps around your midsection, dragging you closer until her body is wrapped around yours. Arlecchino, being the attentive person she is, notices your smile and sigh of relief and the way your shivering stops. She notices the way you nestle further in once you know she’s okay with it, and she notices when your breath falls into a deep rhythm.

It is her turn to stare at the wall, her heart beating faster than usual, the only giveaway of any of her feelings. Slowly, her arms snake around you until she’s holding you so tight you can’t move even if you wanted to. Her breath is visible when she exhales, when she lets her body finally relax in the company of another. Arlecchino buries her face into your hair, smelling your shampoo. The smell makes her drowsy, she tells herself (it is not the smell, it is that after so many years, her walls have crumbled completely), and she finds her eyes drooping until she, too, falls into the throes of sleep.

Arlecchino sleeps the best she ever has. Arlecchino has her first night of no nightmares since she became the poor, mad, cursed knave. Arlecchino does not feel so cursed when you are beside her.

[gojoest]

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

✎ . . . minors & ageless blogs do not interact !

✎ . . . all nsft content is indicated with “*”, sfw pieces might include suggestive hints

⊹ SERIES

entangled *

⊹ MULTI-CHAPTER FICS

curiosity * : part 1 -> part 2

⊹ FICS & ONESHOTS

make a wish before you blow the candle *

marked mine *

keep your pretty eyes shut *

11:05pm *

the one with the waiter

the one with the role play

competition - girl dad!satoru

⊹ DRABBLES

reunion

what home smells like

a lucky one

i’d die a thousand times for you

midnight spooning and something more *

dry humping *

waking up without you makes satoru pretty dramatic

routine *

kitchen escapades *

bedtime story (about love) - girl dad!satoru

untitled sukugo x reader *

“there is never a moment in which i do not adore you”

first word - girl dad!satoru

boundaries *

⊹ BLURBS

7:45am - clingy & dramatic

jealous

drunk and needy *

merman!satoru

the proposal

my air

confession

grocery store shenanigans

⊹ PREGNANCY FREAK!SATORU

— fics/drabbles:

crazy about you *

urges *

burden and reverence *

— headcanons:

pregnancy freak!satoru

© 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐓 — do not plagiarize, repost, use or translate my works on any platform.

[shalomniscient]

hi im here to spread the werewolf rahu agenda pls. i need more content of her just being in her own world while following you around like the puppy she is!!! being all submissive and ready to follow your orders, but once it's the full moon, everything gets thrown out the window.

like i need her to fuck me so badly pls!!!! you'd be so surprised because rahu was never this rough with you, cause now she's pinning you down, her frame absolutely towering over yours and doing anything she wants w you!!! such a rare opportunity for her, considering how you take the lead almost every time.....

anyway i just need this hunk of a woman so bad!!

[more nsft utc--]

werewolf!rahu may be juiced up on pheromones and not fully cognizant anymore but she is still a girlfailure as ever, i fear. she's rutting into you like a feral hound, her pupils so blown out you can hardly see the silver of her irises. and yet, she's sobbing just as much into your shoulder as you gasp and claw at her back with the way she's fucking you stupid.

see, rahu can't control herself from fucking you. so this means, the person pushing her into overstimulation is also herself. she's cum so many times over by now, stuffed your cute cunt full of so many loads that it's leaking out with each thrust. doesn't help that the stickiness of her cum just adds another layer of sensations and friction that just muddles her brain even more, ears pinned to the flat of her head, and even as she feels herself hit her limit she can't help but want more. the primal urge in the back of her head howling for her to breed you ensure her hips keep driving into you until she's knotted you and she's shooting fucking blanks.

her teeth undoubtedly leave their marks all over your pretty skin, the indentation of her fangs on your flesh a mark and notice to everyone about who you belong to. she'll lap at them apologetically, soothing them if they hurt, nuzzling beneath your jaw to drink in your scent. you're a human, so it's not as strong, but werewolves have a keen sense of smell so it makes no difference to her. she loves the way your scent changes after she's fucked you full of her seed--it's still you, but there's a hint of her in it, and it makes her werewolf sensibilities so proud because now every werewolf in the vicinity cannot mistake your status as her partner, her mate.

and if they still try some stupid shit like trying to flirt with you, then, well--the next logical step is to just fuck you full of her pups, right? ;)

[putrid-sex-machine]

KiNKTOBER DAY 14 𐂯 LEON

PROMPT: collaring, pet play, praise kink & humiliation w/ re2r leon

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut (obv), pet play, masc!reader, pet names (puppy, pup, baby, pretty boy, good boy, pet, angel, mutt), oneshot, rutting, dry humping, praise, collars, mlm, pet/owner dynamics

A/N: we are NOT getting into heaven with this one!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️ this 1 kinda got away from me lol. i need him carnally (in case you couldn't tell). leons totally a whimperer BUT hear me out,, growling? 👀 let’s pretend i posted this on time (^^;) not entirely beta read but idrc

this fic has nsft content. you have been warned.

dividers by cafekitsune

"C'mon, puppy, I know you can do it," you praise, your voice the only thing keeping Leon somewhat grounded. What was it you wanted again?

He feels himself nodding before even fully registering the command, ever easy to please. The name does wonders for him, something you’ve taken note of. You wouldn’t be here if it didn’t, of course. His gaze lingers on you, thoughts drifting off momentarily. You look so good like that, sat so fucking pretty on the bed, leash and collar in hand. Fuck, he wants to take you right then and there.

“Puppy,” you warn, voice lowering dangerously, unhappy to repeat yourself. “Strip.”

That gets Leon moving, his body jumping into action before he has time to fluster. He’s standing in his boxers now, skin hot under your gaze, but even then it’s not enough.

“I said strip,” you order again, all affection now gone from your tone.

“Yes— yes, sir,” Leon mumbles, mouth moving faster than his brain. Fuck. Why did he say that? Sir?? He’s not at the police academy.

“You’re thinking too hard.” Your voice is softer now, though a hint of warning still remains. “This isn’t supposed to be hard for you, pup. Just follow my instructions.”

Again, Leon nods, finally shrugging off his boxers with an embarrassed whine. He’s not quite sure why this has him so worked up. It’s not the first time he’s been naked in front of you, after all. Then again, he didn’t have such a captive audience then either. You grin, gesturing him over.

He’s kneeling between your legs now, breath quick and embarrassed.

“That’s a good boy,” you praise, running a hand through his hair. Leon can’t help but whimper, eyes drooping shut at the contact, and his head tilting into it. “Such a good boy… You learn so fast.”

Leon’s mind swims at that, swaying somewhat where he sits, panting. He feels your hand grip his hair, forcing his head back. He doesn’t resist, shamefully allowing you whatever access to him you’d like. Cool leather wraps around his throat, just barely restricting his airway. A collar.

“Such a pretty puppy… Can you bark for me baby? Can you speak?”

Leon shakes his head, the remainder of his dignity refusing to let him fall further. Even with his eyes shut Leon can see the scowl on your face, whining pitifully at your disappointment.

“I said speak, pet,” you command, the tone only fueling the fire in Leon’s groin.

Leon opens his mouth, jaw simply hanging for a moment, no sound coming out. “…Woof,” he mumbles shamefully, face burning red. The grip on his hair loosens, trailing down to grab his chin, gaze forced up to meet yours.

It’s only then that his predicament fully sets in, the sight of you above him, legs caging him in on either side with a leash in hand… it’s enough to make him twitch.

“Puppy…” you start, voice deceivingly soft, “you can do better than that. Go on. Speak. Speak for your owner, angel.”

Humiliated wouldn’t even begin to describe what he’s feeling right now; every part of his body burning with shame, unable to so much as look at you as his cock twitches in response. He likes this.

He nods, eyes drooping shut before his gaze is forcefully brought back to yours. His mouth opens, a small, awkward, yet honest to god bark leaving him. He doesn’t miss the way you shutter, breath hitching ever so slightly as you grin down at him.

“Fuck… thats a good boy, good boy, Leon.”

Leon can’t help the way his thighs squeeze together at that, awkwardly grinding into himself in a desperate attempt for friction. That’s when he feels a boot shoved between his legs, the cool leather almost painful against his heat. He whimpers, hips bucking into it before he has time to think. This earns him a painful tug on his collar, his hips stuttering to a stop.

“Puppy,” you warn, voice lowering. “I didn’t say you could move."

Leon nods, whining shamefully, embarrassed to have disappointed you. “But it’s okay, baby,” you assure, “you’re just a dumb little puppy, it’s not your fault you didn’t know.”

That really shouldn’t have had such a strong effect on Leon. He swallows, attempting to find a distraction from all this, something he can use to appear somewhat composed. He can’t embarrass himself like this.

You don’t seem happy with his attempts, however, tugging on the leash once more. You tut, running a hand sweetly through his hair. “Oh, puppy,” you start, voice once again deceivingly gentle, “don’t resist it. You know you want to let this happen… You know thinking this much isn’t good for you, baby.”

Leon swallows thickly, nodding before he can stop himself. He doesn’t know that, but either way he wants to please.

“That’s right…” you praise, tilting your boot up into his groin. “Let me make you feel good, don’t resist it. Can you open your mouth for me, angel?”

Leon’s mouth opens on command, shifting awkwardly in embarrassment. You keep him like that just long enough for the shame to sink in, boot digging into his cock as he sits the untouched, mouth hung open like the good boy he is. Finally, you push two fingers into his mouth, satisfied when Leon’s lips wrap obediently around them. He sucks softly, his mouth hot and inexperienced, teeth prodding into your skin. You tut, pushing them further back down his throat, pressing down just enough to make him gag.

You lean in, fingers not shying away from the back of his tongue. “C’mon, puppy… let me take all those thoughts away, let you keep that pretty little head empty like it’s supposed to be. You know I like you better dumbed down, don’t resist it.

Leon shivers, just barely stopping himself from rutting into your boot, a soft, gagged whine leaving him. He nods to the best of his ability, eyes drooping shut as he simply sucks on your fingers, the sensation strangely bliss.

“That’s right,” you praise, “feels good doesn’t it? You like being told what to do?” Again, Leon nods, this time whining. “Good boy… That’s my pretty boy, doing so well for me.”

You retreat your fingers, a line of spit briefly connecting them to Leon’s lips. He whines at the loss, to which you hush him. “I know,” you coo, wiping the spit covered digits through his hair. “You wanna make your owner feel good though, don’t you? You wanna make me feel good?”

With you staring down at him so expectantly, Leon can’t find it in himself to say no. Not that he would have wanted to anyways. He nods pitifully, whining again before he can stop himself. You grin.

“Atta boy.” And just like that, your hands are off him, earning another shameful whine. “I know, baby,” you assure, turning your attention from Leon down to your fly. “Just a little longer, okay? You’re being so good for me.”

Leon swears you’re going slow on purpose, his body tensing further with each passing second. He can see the outline of your cock through your boxers, the mere smell of it making him drool. Finally it’s out, the tip resting against Leon’s lips, smearing them with precum. He shutters.

“Open.”

Leon obeys, jaw going slack, willing you to cut to the chase, to let him taste you. You slide in painfully slow, giving Leon time to adjust to the intrusion. His lips instinctively wrap around it, protecting the sensitive skin from his teeth as he wills it down further. Your hands in his hair now, breath shaky.

Leon’s never done something like this before, is he doing this right?

Without warning, you shove your cock all the way in, forcing a gag from Leon. You pull back, allowing him room to breathe. All he can smell is you, everything about the situation only fueling him further. He needs this.

“Please,” he mumbles around your cock, brows pulled taught as he gazes up at you. You tut, grabbing his hair tight and pulling him back down.

“Puppies don’t talk,” you warn, relishing in the way his throat spasms around you. You pull him off, Leon spitting and gagging as you do so, eyes squeezed shut. “Be a good dog. Bark for me. Tell me how bad you want it.”

Leon doesn’t resist, letting out a small, hoarse bark. This time however, it isn’t enough. “I said bark, you mutt. Bark for me. You can do better than that.” Your boot tilts further up, digging into Leon’s cock, dragging an honest to god moan from him.

You grin, the expression downright evil. “You like that?” Leon nods, hips stuttering against the leather. You tut, tugging on his leash harshly. “Then bark for me. Bark and I’ll let you have it.”

Leon’s eyes droop shut, whimpering softly. He nods, willing the sound out of him, this time significantly more animalistic. A real bark.

“Good boy.” Your voice is sweet and proud again, grinding your boot into his groin as a reward. “I knew you could do it. Now open your mouth, let me use you like you’re intended. Breathe through your nose… Good puppy.”

Leon obeys, this time rutting shamelessly into your shoe. Your cock slams into his throat once more, but this time he’s prepared, breathing steadily through his nose as you continue abusing his throat, willing his gag reflex down.

“God… look at you, drooling around my cock… Fucking hell. You’re so fucking good, puppy. Just like that.” And really, he’s not doing anything, just sitting there and letting you use him. “There you go… You’re doing so good, angel. So good for me. Just keep humping my boot like a bitch in heat, let yourself be the stupid fucking mutt you are.”

Leon allows himself to drift, lost in the wondrous cocktail of hormones you’ve awoken in him. He’s rutting faster, breaths shallowing as he fights to keep himself from going over the edge, wanting this to last as long as possible.

“You gonna cum for me, puppy?” you mock, drinking in Leon’s display with hungry eyes.

He nods frantically, panting stupidly around your cock. He’s growling now, the sounds low and desperate, like some kind of animal.

You tug your boot away, relishing in the whine that vibrates around your length. You drag him down further, ignoring his pitiful gags as you spill down his throat, fucking him through your high.

You drag Leon off, watching as he swallows it all like the good boy he is, grinning wildly. “You did so good, puppy,” you whisper, dragging him closer by the leash, relishing in his confusion. You guide him up onto the bed, tutting as he goes to stand. “Oh, you poor, stupid little thing,” you coo. “Puppies don’t stand, angel. Crawl to me. That’s right, on all fours. Just like that. Good boy. That’s my pretty puppy.”

You drag him onto your still clothed thigh, his leash pulled taught. “You did so well,” you praise, guiding his bare hips against the rough fabric. “C’mon puppy, make yourself feel good for me. You’ve done so well… Just like that, hump my thigh like the stupid bitch you are. That’s right. Good boy.”

Leon whimpers in discomfort, the corse fabric like fire against his erection, but he can’t find it within himself to care. He speeds up, practically sobbing now as he fucks himself stupid on your thigh, clinging to you like a life line. He’s growling, nipping softly at your neck as he ruts into you, humping you like a bitch in heat.

“M… M’gonna,” he stutters dumbly, head thrown back as his back arches into the sensation. Poor puppy can’t even finish a sentence.

You hush him, hands running soothingly down his sides as he shutters against you. “Cum for me, puppy. You’ve been so good. Cum for me.”

Leon nods frantically, mouth hanging open as he cums, vision going white as he collapses into you, continuing to grind uselessly against your leg. “I love you I love you I love you,” he chants absently, sobbing into the crook of your neck. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I love you.”

[sweetheartharpy]

Kindness to Nurglings

Nurgle x F! Reader fic. 3,050 words, estimated read 15min.

Content warnings: NSFT. Graphic discussion of disease, decay, parasites, fungi, rot, etc; -- You know, all that stuff Nurgle is known for. Minor mind control/ perception alteration. Tentacles. It's just good and gross all around. Dead Dove Do Not Eat.

"Plot": You, the Reader, found a strange beast, all sickly and desperately in need of care. You do your best to take care of it, and, when its mightier friends come, your kindness is... Repaid? by the Lord of Decay himself.

Now available on AO3!

It was a strange little creature, scampering there out in the near-dark twilight fields. At first, you'd mistaken it for a dog— A mangy one, for sure, but a dog nonetheless. It had the joyful spiritedness of an animal that refused to believe anything was wrong with it, and so, with a combination of the gentlest-bristled broom you had and an old kennel, you herded it to a relative safety.

Only when you had it in the light in your house could you see it was no dog, no breed you knew of, at least— Or it had been so horrifically injured that it wasn't recognizeable thereby. Something animal in you screeched to run from it, but you battered that silent with better human nature, and decided on a bit more safety than before. Donning a thick coat and leather gardening gloves and an old mask you had lying about, you wedged a shallow bowl into its cage and poured it some water from a bottle, tks-tks and ps-ps —ing to get its boisterous attention and splashing the clean water. If it was rabid, you knew there was nothing you could do about it, and it was best to call wildlife control and have it taken care of a different way— But you'd nursed some sick creatures to health before, and if it drank, it could surely be saved.

You were delighted to see it bop over in an uneven hobble, noticing one of its legs shorter than the other three; When it unfurled a long, white-slimed tongue from its squashed-in maw and lapped up the clean water thirstily, you hesitantly moved a glove near the cage. Unlike anything wild, it perked up and tried to rub its… Face? Against the leather, much like an affecitonate cat might; Heartened, you pushed leather to bars, and felt the pressure of its slimy, pustulent skin against your hand. It was cooing, or perhaps purring; What had been the phlegmy, rattling breaths of its standard existence deepened and grew more expressive, earned a more pleased vibrato to them, and, still gloved, you scratched up where its ears might once have been, now reduced to crusty, waxy holes.

When you pulled your hand away, it stood on its hind legs, the hips squelching in a rather off-putting manner as it did so. And… It straightened in a distinctly humanoid stance. Between that and the skin, you wondered if this was some sort of Xeno child, or a Warp-touched… Something. You couldn't wrap your head around it— Something about it danced at the edge of recollection, the barest hint of the uncanny, and as it seemed to smile through a faceful of pus-streaming sores, you wondered what you'd gotten yourself into.

xxx~~~xxx

You'd named it Boops. Whatever Boops was, no amount of washing, soap, mite treatments, or antibacterial soaps seemed to help. You'd tried to give it some of your dog's old oral antibiotics, but it'd had such a violent reaction and wailed so piteously that you had no choice but to avoid it. Boops was, despite the… Frankly disgusting nature of itself, in remarkably good shape. They'd run about and smear their mess on things with a radiant joy that was quite charming, and honestly, you'd gotten used to the smell after some days and just confined them to a guest room to reduce the cleaning needed.

And so much cleaning! It seemed Boops was a veritable font of pus, seeping lymph, phlegm, bile, and clotting blood. Whatever they had was… Well, you hoped not contagious. If you were this way, you'd surely be rushed to the hospital. And after these days of no improvement, that's where you'd decided to take Boops: The veterinarian.

As you scooted them into a carrier, they started tugging with excitement at your sleeve, and pointing behind you— Those digits were surprisingly flexible, to point. Almost raccoonlike— Could this be a raccoon?— But you looked where Boops pointed, and gasped.

Shambling from the forest where Boops themselves had arrived was a whole horde of other Boops-es, laughing and rushing towards town. Following them were flies large as a goat, which swept in towards you. Boops howled something in its tongue, and the flies diverted away— And the howl brought other attention.

Men, or things like men, in armour at once chitinous, keratinous, and ceramite-like, trudged in steady line through the trees. Their weapons were huge; Their stench was nearly unbearable. Boops yowl-chittered something, and this time, it was more like words. One of the massive men turned your way, marched to you. You grabbed Boops out of the carrier in your bare arms and ran, ran to town.

The thudding of hulking steps behind you grew near far quicker than you could run, and before you knew it, there was a hand on your shirt. You twisted and fought, tearing your shirt down the back on the rusted, diseased metal of the armour the man-thing wore, but then it grabbed your arm in a grip strong enough you felt your bones creak.

You howled. It hurt. The machine-man tugged. You tugged back, still carrying Boops like a football, like a baby, tucked to your chest.

Boops scampered up the man's arm and perched gaily upon his shoulder, and hopped up and down in place, chittering. The man loosened his grip a little, and the small beast rubbed its face on the helmet before it, just how it had rubbed its face upon your hand some days ago.

And the man lifted you, and carried you away.

xxx~~~xxx

He walked for some time, and you had stopped fighting. Wherever it was that he and Boops had come from, you were growing afraid of both for it; Back this way, the plants had withered and blackened, fungations sapping the life from old, once-mighty trees, molds drizzling down from the bushes in mockeries of berries. The animals that you could identify were, at times, writhing in feverish spasms, and at other times wandering with zombielike aimlessness, wandering out, away, from the direction you headed, the infective epicentre.

There, a roiling morass of tentacles and entrails in a robe spoke with the armoured man who had carted you all this way, spoke the same tongue as Boops seemed to, and you wept as you were handed off to this one, instead.

xxx~~~xxx

Little bumps had formed across your body, warm but neither tender nor painful; You could have mistaken them for shaving-bumps, but for the fact you'd not shaved.

When you exited the swirling greenish portal the man made of undulating disconnected meat had opened on your apparent behalf, these odd bumps had become raised, reddened ulcers, and had begun to grow sore. You coughed wetly, and a similar cough echoed behind you— Boops' cough. The little beastie had come with you, and now reached up on tip-toes to hold your hand, pull you deeper into this horrible world.

The ground was spongy like half-putrefied flesh, covered in massive tubes of slime-molds that looked disconcertingly like blood-vessels, throbbing and pumping and shuddering. The air was humid, thick, stagnant and filled with so much stench it made you vomit, and then vomit again, and keep retching until your belly ached and you could barely breathe. Boops held back your hair, and then, once you'd shakily returned to your feet, rolled in the mess before standing up and running off.

A copse of perfect trees stood tall, vibrantly green and absolutely untouched by the decay all around; You saw them through the haze of spores and stench, and ran to them like a lifeline.

When you burst through, you wished, immediately, you hadn't.

A corpulent mound of pure, slime-slick decay, of bulbous poxy sores, of open, writhing guts, of wounds infected and purulent, of wriggling and teeming parasites, reclined lazily upon a throne of bones cemented with adipocere and fungus. He turned his head, jowls wobbling with a bloated sort of fullness, and grinned wide, revealing row after row of sharp, carnivorous teeth.

"My dear!" He cried, and stretched out his arms, moribund body creaking, skin peeling, sores weeping at the motion. "Oh, my dear, by baby here has been telling me SO much of you! I must say, I really love the fact you tried to give him baths. That's HILARIOUS."

He gestured his arms down to Boops, who ran up and nestled into the yeasty folds of his creator's belly, smearing vomit on the flesh that seemed to disintegrate into black sludge at the slightest touch.

"You even named him. Boops! That's such a cute name! Honestly, like your own little rotten child," He laughed, and picked up the little creature, placing the small thing upon his prodigious belly. It chewed into a pustule and made a nest of it, looking down at you with unabashed delight.

You took a step back, mouth agape, not even sure what to make of the scene before you.

"Now, don't be shy!" The mound of putrescence before you laughed, and in a dizzying moment of vertigo, you were at his feet. You knelt forward as your stomach siezed, and demanded you vomit the nothing in it, or, barring that, vomit up the organ itself.

"Oh look, they even know to kneel!" He laughed, and leaned forward, creeks of black rot and bile pouring down, squeezed from his flesh. He touched, and the sores on your body blossomed into agony and consumption, vibrant red and weeping blood. You screamed, the pain and fear finally coming to vocalization, and this caused the impossible being of decay before you to frown. Boops chittered.

"Oh, they haven't? My, my! Such a strong will, indeed. This far without even accepting my blessing? Just a little kindness, hmm? Oh, we can't lose that, no no!" He grabbed you up in his hands, and more sores began to grow, fungi spreading from opened skin, burrowing and wriggling into nerves and muscles in a torrent of agony.

Something in you whispered to let Papa take care of you, and he'd take all that pain away. You, dazed and beyond overwhelmed, accepted.

The pain lifted. Subsided. Washed away into waves of… Well, not pleasure, but contentment, for now. It was far, far better than the agonies that had preceeded it just moments before.

"Isn't that better?" The great monstrosity above you cooed, and rested you on his belly, near to Boops. He looked down at you, and hummed, and waved fingers as if plucking invisible threads from you; Fungi unburrowed, sores shrunk, and others festered and blackened. The crusty eschars on you looked, to your addled, but… Still fairly happy, mind, like a leopard's spots, and you touched the black lesions with reverence. They sent tingles of pleasure up your spine, like a particularly good back-rub.

You remembered, then, the thing had asked a question, and looked up, opening dry, cracking lips to answer in the affirmative; How long had it been since you'd drunk anything?

Gazing upon his face, his gums puffy and red, teeth snaggled and yellowed, horns branching like tangled tree-limbs from his mighty head, you found an odd affection for the thing that had, clearly, done something to you. You ran a finger across the dried crisp of some peeling skin, and smiled a thin crescent.

"Ohhh, flatterer. You know, it's been a long, long time since there's been a human so dead set on healing a Nurgling! You're really a rare breed," You heard him say, and felt him laugh, fetid breaths causing his belly to bounce with you on top of it. It was not unlike the wavered undulations of a bouncy-castle, and you found yourself smiling wider, lips cracking until they bled, at the memory. You licked them, tasted your own blood upon them.

"Nurgling?" You echoed, and found yourself tilting your head up his way. He quirked an eyebrow and then laughed again.

"A barbaric world, then! Undiscovered little thing. Yes, Nurgling, one of my many children, pretty one." He caressed your cheek with a mighty, clawed hand, leaving a greasy smear in its wake, just like the grease that was seeping into your clothes from below. "And that makes me, to you, Nurgle. Papa, or Grandfather, sometimes. You really don't know me, hm? Ah, that's alright. Better, maybe."

You tried his name, and felt his bloated body shiver with delight. You smiled, and felt his hand sink into your clothes, which spooled apart into dusty decay and left you naked as the day you came into the world atop his belly. It was a bit embarassing, to be stared at by someone you'd only just met, so quickly you squeezed your legs shut and covered your chest as well as you could— Only for two fingers to grab your hand, try to reveal your modesty gently.

"Don't be that way," the horned beast cooed, and heat, feverish and yet wonderful, rose in your face, bloomed over ears and chest in a deep blush. "Don't be that way, little dear. You did so like Boops, wouldn't you like to have some Boops-es of your own?"

The thought gave you brief pause, but when he put it that way, you found, though you might not have before, that was rather appealing. You were certain that even just minutes ago, the thought of it would have been horrifying beyond imagining, but now? Now the longer you thought about it, the more you found you wanted it— The more you found yourself wanting it. Slick of your own joined the grease on his belly, and that toothy maw grinned to feel it.

"There's a good pretty one," he purred, and grunted as he heaved something up, something else out of the way, and a different stench filled the air.

You found yourself sliding down his belly, eased by the copious and unidentifiable fluids seeping from his flesh, until you came to a rest on a thigh, and found protruding from beneath his fat, bloated folds a cock as long as a pine tree, and with girth to match, bulbous and scarred, seeping unholy colours and dripping with chunks of waxy-yellow. You stared up at him and asked him how, exactly, this was intended to fit in you, if you were supposed to give him more Nurglings; He laughed, and shook his whole body with the heaving, thunderous jiggles of the laughter, and told you not to worry.

So you didn't; You reached where you could, and pulled the remarkably-sinuous organ towards yourself, feeling it ripple and move in a way no human's could. If anything, it seemed prehensile, and as you wrapped your arms around it to set on the task of providing what pleasure you could to your lord, it wound back around you and writhed, as if it was trying to frot you, and not the other way round.

Deep rumbles of enjoyment slid from the Chaos god's phlegmy throat, and, bolstered by that, you set to using not just your arms and chest, but thighs and feet and mouth as well, clambering upon the organ in its entirety and squeezing and wriggling with as much sensuality as you could manage.

This was taken quite well, and the cock wound back around you, pressing a tip wide as a soda-can to your lips; Dutifully, you opened, and licked and suckled and kissed upon the rotten-smelling tip, providing a scant cleanliness to the waxy-smeared, puffy urethra-lips and digging out only-Papa-knew-what from the hole. Your hands squeezed and danced across the cockskin, tracing hearts and rubbing the slipping skin wholesale, while you pressed your belly and ground your holes against a bump so nicely formed for you from the twisting, tentacle-like organ.

Perhaps pseudopod would be more accurate; Even as you writhed upon the larger source-shaft, you felt little pappilae, little cillia, of smaller cocks bud out and protrude. Most of them stayed small, rubbing across you in delightful dances, caressing each lesion like so many tongues, lapping at nipples, tangling up in your fingers; But some decided to grow larger, and grow into you.

You found your cunt pushed against by a similar tentacle, followed shortly by your ass; The waxy slime across the whole of his cock was plenty lubrication, and he slid in easily, starting small, growing larger. A cadre of little tentacle-dicks assaulted your clit, teased your trimmed vulva, tickled and danced across your perineum, eventually ensconcing you like underwear in a horde of trembling pleasures. The cocklets in your pussy and asshole began to grow, both rougher and larger, and worked on properly thrusting into you.

You gasped and moaned, and humped into the mass of cockflesh that had wrapped you up as surely as you held it; soon you had no room to move, caught like an insect to a sundew, and simply thrust your hips back against the tentacles that ploughed into you. Your cries raised into the muggy, musky heavens, and Nurgle groaned a little, shifting to rest you back into his hand, gently rock push back-and-forth with the pleasure your own writhing body gave him.

It didn't take too long before his many, many cockheads went from weeping a greenish-clear to a whitish-green, and he growled a possessive little rumble down your way. "Mnh!— Have another— Blessing—!" He grunted, and the slow seep of off-coloured cum became a surge. The thousands of tiny pseudopodal cocklets seeped semen out like a massive stamen, while the can-thick tentacles ravaging your cunt and asshole paused, shifted in as deep as they could go, and spewed forth an unholy torrent of thick, rotten cum into your helpless body. You felt your belly bloat up, and your eyes rolled back as you came, harder than you ever had in your prior life.

He pulled back, and the many little dicks receeded into his own primary organ; the ones nestled in your holes were the last to go, slipping away with sloppy pops that left you shuddering with aftershocks of your own orgasm. You clung to his cock, sliding slowly down, before you plopped into his bloated palm and were deposited rather gently onto the soft grassy ground by his throne.

"Grow and multiply, now," he panted, huffing miasma out into the air. "Go, now, and be a proud Mama."

[in-search-of-a-fallen-star]

the choice of hercules

Pairing: Mainly Gojo/Reader, hints of Geto/Reader

WC: 6,361 (I have no explanation for myself)

Content Warnings: This does contain NSFT smut. There are no pronouns for the reader, but they are described to have breasts and a vagina during the smut. The reader is also hinted at losing their virginity during the smut. There are also themes of yandere behavior from both Geto and Gojo, but it gets pretty overt towards the end.

This is a part 2 of my piece The Fall of Icarus, that I wrote for @strawberrystepmom 's It Takes a Galaxy collab. You can find part 1 here. I do recommend reading it, as there will be lore and references in this that won't make sense if you haven't read part 1.

Speaking of lore, I really do play fast and loose with the canon for both Star Wars and JJK in this one, so I would not recommend reading this if you're looking for accuracy from either series.

Once again, thank you to the marvellous Miss Kendall for hosting such a fun collab, and encouraging me to take this from an outline to an actual finished piece. It really is an honor to participate in a collab with and hosted by such amazing and talented authors.

Minors and ageless blogs, DNI. If you don’t have an age in your bio or pinned I will block you.

In the darkest hours of the night, during the increasingly frequent evenings when sleep eludes you, you find yourself silently wishing that you had the strength to walk away. You can picture it; the weight of your saber leaving your hand as you surrender it to the masters, and the weight that would leave your shoulders as you walk away from the Temple for the last time. 

Those thoughts fade like frost in the warmth of the morning light. You take your time getting dressed, making sure that every layer sits perfectly. When you look in the mirror, you wonder who you would be without the armor of your robes and the title of Knight. You are willing to concede that the Order is not perfect, but for all its flaws it is your home and the only family you have ever known. The thought is a comfort in the wake of the despair of the night, and you know in your heart that no matter how deep the despair gets you will not walk away. 

Perhaps this is the attachment you have been warned about since you were a small child- the feeling of craving a home and the security that comes with it that you would do anything to keep it. You wonder if it makes you loyal, or just greedy. You reflexively reach for your comlink, preoccupied with the question you want to ask Geto.

Then you remember Geto left, and you let your arm fall limply to your side. 

You reach up to the phantom space where your pendant used to rest, the memories of your last meeting with Geto playing in your mind. Part of you wonders what would have happened, if you had taken the offer he had laid so temptingly before you. 

The details of Geto’s fall have become a closely guarded secret. Those files have a high enough security clearance that even you can’t access them. Gojo, who will normally tell you anything, just smiled when you asked and ruffled your hair, telling you not to worry your pretty little head. All you were told is that Geto was responsible for the death of an entire village, and you only have the confusing images left by your Force premonition to go on. 

You know something happened. Your premonition confirmed that much, and was further strengthened by the state Geto had been in when you saw him in that alley. The dark side leaves a mark on those who come into contact with it. You are still haunted by the sight of his eyes, glowing gold in the dark shadows of the alley. 

The only information that you’ve been able to glean in the months since is that Geto has been sighted with two young girls, and you’ve heard rumors that he’s started some sort of cult somewhere in the Outer Rim. For a moment you entertain the thought of getting in your ship and setting out to find him, but you are pulled from your thoughts by the sound of a knock at the door. You glance at the clock on your desk and realize that you’ve missed breakfast; someone must have come looking for you. You know it’s not Gojo, he would have just let himself in. You take a moment to recenter yourself, soothing your roiling emotions with the Force, then go to open the door. 

A young man with dark hair and white robes stands on the other side. You recognize him as Gojo’s new Padawan, and a new recruit to the Jedi. He had been discovered only a few months ago, and the overwhelming strength of his power made him dangerous to leave alone. Gojo had volunteered to take the young man under his wing and train him, much to the chagrin of the Council, but that was to be expected from Gojo. 

Yuuta pulls his hand back from where he had been about to knock again. “Ah, good morning! You weren’t at breakfast, so Master Gojo wanted to check on you- he would have come himself, but he was summoned to the Council, so he sent me instead,” he says, smiling and rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Good morning to you too, Yuuta. I’m sorry you had to come all this way. I merely lost track of time thinking about a case,” You pat him gently on the shoulder and move to step past him into the hallway. “Since I lost track of time, I’m afraid I’m late for my duties. Excuse me.” 

Before you can move past him, he grabs your wrist to stop you. “Master Gojo told me you’d say that. He also gave me specific instructions to make sure you went to the kitchens first and got something to eat before you go to the archives.” 

“Ah, that does sound like him,” you smile ruefully and gently pull your wrist out of Yuuta���s hold. “Well Yuuta, would you like to accompany me? I’ve been meaning to talk to you about our upcoming trip, and this is as good a time as any. I’m sure you must have questions.”

He brightens and falls into step alongside you. “I do have some that I’ve been hoping to ask before we leave. What is Dantooine like?” 

“The planet is mostly grasslands, so the view from the enclave there is like looking out onto a moving sea of green. The window from my old room there faced the sunrise, so I used to wake up before dawn to watch the sun come up and turn the clouds pink and the grasses gold,” you smile wistfully. “You can also see the brith playing in the clouds, and if you’re quiet you can get close and watch the piket graze the tops of the trees.”

“Oh, one thing you should be wary of when we go,” you turn to Yuuta. “The kath hounds on Dantooine are dangerous, and easily provoked. If you run into one, do not underestimate it.” 

He looks at you, puzzled. “I thought I was just going to study at the archives there?”

“You grew up in the underbelly here on Coruscant, didn’t you?” When he nods, looking confused, you explain. “It’s important for Jedi to explore many different types of environments, and Dantooine is about as different from Coruscant as you can get. The planet is peaceful, without the pollution and constant noise, but it can be just as dangerous. Part of your training while we’re there will be learning how to navigate an environment that is unfamiliar.” 

When his pale face gets even paler, you reach out and reassure him, both physically and through the Force. “Don’t worry, Yuuta. You won’t be alone while you’re doing this. I’ll be there to help, every step of the way. Think of it as a part research trip, part camping trip.” 

Some color returns to his cheeks, and you see him unclench one hand from the sleeve of his robe. “Ah, that’s good. Master Gojo likes to ‘let me figure things out for myself’, and I usually learn something, but I also usually end up seeing Master Shoko at the end of it.” 

Yuuta’s comlink buzzes. “Oh stars, I’m late for sparring. Maki’s gonna kill me,” he mutters to himself, reading the message. 

You shoo him off with a gesture. “Go, go. I’m sorry for keeping you. I’ll see you in a few days when we leave.” 

“Thank you!” he gives you a quick bow and turns to run down the hallway. 

“Good luck!” you call out after him. You watch him run for a moment, before turning back to your current mission of getting something to eat. The halls are quiet, with the comforting sounds of running water, murmuring voices from the classrooms, and the distant sounds of saber blades crashing providing a backdrop to your walk. 

You are startled out of your reverie by a voice. 

“It’s good to see you smiling again,” Gojo looms from the shadow of a nearby pillar, looking uncharacteristically serious. 

“I smile all the time,” you cross your arms defensively, watching Gojo warily as he approaches. Slowly, he walks you backwards, until you hit the smooth stone of a pillar. He plants a big hand on the pillar next to your head, while the other comes up to cup your chin, one thumb tracing the curve of your bottom lip. 

“Those aren’t real,” he says dismissively. “I missed seeing your smile actually reach your eyes. What were you and my darling apprentice talking about that made you so happy, hmm?” 

You know he probably heard you, but you decide to indulge him in whatever game he seems interested in playing today. “He asked me about Dantooine. You know, the trip you asked me to take him on in a few days?” 

“Do you miss it that much? That just talking about it makes you glow like this?” he swipes a thumb over the ridge of your cheekbone. His eyes are covered by his blindfold right now, but you can still feel them on you, following every movement of your face. 

“It was my first home, Gojo. Of course I miss it,” you uncross your arms and make a conscious effort to relax. “My duties have kept me away for a long time, so it’ll be nice to go back, even if it is only for a few days.” 

Reaching out with the Force, you try to get a read on Gojo. He’s closed off at first, but when you make contact he opens himself up to you, just a bit. You get a taste of an anxiety so potent it makes your stomach churn, and the pieces click into place for you. 

The last time one of his friends had left on a mission, they didn’t come back.

Sighing, you reach up and thread your fingers through his silky white hair. You scratch gently at the nape of his neck, in the way that makes him practically purr when he seeks you out and throws himself down into your lap, demanding your attention after he gets back from a long mission. 

“I know where my duty is, Gojo. It’s just a few days, and then I’ll be back.” 

He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours. “Promise me. Promise me you’ll come back.” 

“I promise. I’ll make sure your Padawan comes back in one piece too,” you try a joke, attempting to lift the mood a little, but Gojo ignores it. He folds himself down even further, wrapping his arms around you and tucking his head into the crook of your neck. You feel more than hear him whisper something as he tightens his arms around you. 

You let him stay like that, his tall body folded down to wrap around your smaller one. It’s only when you hear the approaching voices of other Jedi that you begin to untangle yourself from him, pulling your fingers from his hair and pushing at him gently to try and persuade him to let go. He tightens his grip in response, and you swat at the back of his head. 

“Gojo! What if they see us?” you hiss at him, pushing more insistently. 

“Would that be so bad?” he pulls back a little, just far enough to see your face.

“This is crossing a line and you know it. It would risk both of our positions if someone saw.”

He finally pulls away from you, and the small window he’d opened for you in the Force shuts abruptly. He steps back, putting an appropriate amount of distance between you two, and reaches out to ruffle your hair. “Take care of yourself, starlight,” he says as he walks away, giving you a cheerful two fingered salute as the other Jedi come into view. 

You watch him leave for a moment, waiting until he turns a corner before you continue on your way to the kitchens. Your mind is racing, replaying the interaction in your head. It’s not out of the ordinary for Gojo to do this, but it is strange for him to be so clingy out where you could get caught. Normally he seeks you out either early in the morning or late at night, finding you in either your quarters or your small office in the archives, where he occupies as much of your personal space as he can and demands your attention for however much time he can hide away from his responsibilities. 

Your mind keeps circling back to the words he whispered into the crook of your neck: “If you don’t come back, I swear I’ll find you.” He’d left the door to his emotions open, but you didn’t need to look to know he’d been talking about you, and also Geto. His regret for not being able to save his best friend in time haunted his steps as closely as his own shadow. 

You could feel your own regret begin to creep closer, and you shook yourself physically and mentally. You’d spent enough time thinking about loss and regret today. You grabbed a quick meal from the kitchens and made it to your office, throwing yourself into your work.

That seemed to set the pattern for the week. Yuuta started seeking you out on his own, asking questions about the history of the Jedi enclave on Dantooine, and about the history of the Order in general. It seemed Gojo had taken a very hands on and practical approach to Yuuta’s training; his lightsaber forms and piloting skills had progressed far beyond anyone’s expectations. However, his education was a bit lacking, and you were happy to fill in the gaps and provide the young Padawan with anything he desired, whether it was information, guidance on Force techniques, or simply a quiet place to meditate. 

Gojo also began seeking you out more often, pulling you into dark corners just to hold you for a moment in between his meetings and assignments. He laughed off your questions, simply saying that he just wanted to spend time with you before you left. Even though he was demanding your attention in riskier and riskier places, and you knew he was hiding something, you found yourself unable to say no to him. Physical contact was rare amongst the Jedi, touch limited to a friendly hand on the shoulder or a brief touch in passing. 

There were moments that you found yourself craving the warmth of Gojo’s touch, the way the world narrowed to just the space of his arms. The more he touched you, the hungrier you felt- you knew you were walking a dangerous line but couldn’t find it in yourself to stop. You reasoned with yourself that it would just be for this week, you’d both get it out of your systems, and then things would go back to normal after you returned from Dantooine. So you let yourself indulge, ignoring the specter of Geto’s words from the last time you’d seen him. 

The night before you are set to leave for Dantooine, you wake up in a cold sweat. Your thoughts are a garbled mess, caught halfway between the waking world and dreaming. All you know is that Gojo needs you, right now. You’re still close enough to sleep that the world feels fuzzy at the edges, but you manage to throw a robe over your sleep tunic and make your way out into the dark and empty halls of the Temple. There’s no moon tonight, meaning that the halls are lit only by dim sconces, leaving you to fumble your way in the dark. You can feel Gojo’s presence drawing you in, like the crushing gravity of a black hole. 

You make it to his door, tapping out a code that you know so well it’s muscle memory. The door slides open and you practically fall into the room, looking frantically for Gojo. He’s in his bed, locked in the throes of a nightmare that has him convulsing in the thin sheets of his bed. The dim lights of the hallway shine on his sweat-slicked skin, making it gleam like alabaster before the door slides shut again, leaving you in blackness. You let the pull draw you to him, catching yourself on the edge of his bed. You almost fall forward, planting a knee on the edge of the mattress and resting your hands on Gojo’s chest. 

“Gojo, wake up,” you call, voice hushed but urgent. When he doesn’t respond, you push harder, shaking him as gently as you can. You open the Force connection between you two, and are rapidly overwhelmed by a deluge of images and sounds. You push through it, using your ability to try and calm the storm that is raging in Gojo’s mind. You catch some flashes of his dream before he wakes, coming to consciousness with a jerk. His eyes snap open, glowing electric blue in the darkness as he activates his powers in a self defense reflex. Your eyes meet for a second, his wide and wild as he begins to register where he is. 

He reaches a shaking hand up to you, trembling fingertips tracing the curve of your jaw, the line of your neck, and the delicate wings of your collarbone left exposed by the skewed collar of your sleep tunic. “You’re here,” he breathes, the panicked fight bleeding out of his body. You don’t respond, letting him calm down and also trying to sort through the fragmented flashes of his nightmare you’d seen before he’d woken up. 

Your attention is immediately drawn back to him when he sits up, a flash of movement and a blur of motion before you feel your back hit his mattress. His fingers are entwined with yours, pinning one of your hands to the pillow above your head. You can feel his other hand slip beneath your robe, the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of your sleep tunic as he runs his hand up and down your side. He leans down, and his hot breath on the sensitive skin of your neck sends a shiver down your spine. 

Gojo nuzzles your neck, tracing the line of it with the tip of his nose. He’s babbling something, but his voice is low enough that even in the quiet of his room you can’t quite hear what he’s saying. He seems to realize this when you stay silent, and he drags his head from the crook of your neck. “Please, let me have you, starlight. I need to feel that you’re alive,” he begs, eyes blown so wide that the luminous blue of his eyes is pushed to a thin ring around the cavernous black of his pupils. A thought echoes in the back of your mind; this is the first time you’ve seen Gojo without his blindfold since Geto fell.

Whatever had pulled you to his room has worn off, leaving you slightly dazed but aware of where you are. You cannot blame it for the feelings welling up under your skin, threatening to burst with each brush of Gojo’s skin. You know that the Code dictates that you should push him off, go back to your room, and meditate to drive this attachment away. You move to do so, and your leg brushes up against him. He makes a punched out sound, caught somewhere in between a filthy moan and a sob. You freeze, hands on his chest. 

“Don’t go,” he pleads, voice thick with an emotion you are afraid to put a name to. “Please, starlight, I need you. Let me take care of you.” He drops his head to yours and reaches for one of your hands, pressing it further against his chest. You can feel his heart pounding, racing like the engines of the speeders he loves to fly so much. “Please, stay.”

There are two thoughts at war in your mind. One is the Code, a creed you have had memorized for so long recalling the words is as easy as breathing. You know what the Code dictates, what it demands from you. From both of you. You also know what it has taken from you. 

The other is the fact that you are getting a second chance at something you’ve wanted more than anything- a chance to be close to someone you love. That thought stuns you for a second. Geto was your first love, a secret that you buried deep after he fell and swore to never dig up. You’ve been scared to face your feelings for Gojo because of that. You know what your feelings are, but have hidden from them out of fear, fear that they will lead you astray from your duty, from the oath that you swore when you became a Knight. 

In the face of Gojo’s desperation, you feel ready to voice those feelings. The closed door and the darkness around you makes you feel bold, finally ready to face a truth you’ve been hiding from for months now. Mind made up, you lean up, closing the scant few inches between the two of you to press your mouth to Gojo’s. He makes a broken sound, his hand moving to cradle your head as he presses closer to devour your mouth. He wastes no time pulling you as close as possible, tongue plundering your mouth. 

He sinks his teeth into your bottom lip before pulling away, resting his forehead against yours. He nestles himself between your thighs, hips making small, jerky movements against you, as if he can’t control himself. “It’s been unbearable, starlight,” he moans. “To have you so close and not be able to do anything. If only you knew how often my last thoughts at night are of you. I see signs of you everywhere, and each one makes me crave you in a way I can’t endure.” 

Gojo trails kisses from your lips down to your jaw, nipping at the corner of it and tugging at your earlobe with his teeth. His mouth keeps travelling down, biting and sucking at your neck. A soft moan stutters its way out of your mouth, and he shivers against you. “That’s it, starlight. Let me know how good I make you feel,” you feel his breath, cool now against the sheen of saliva on your skin. You feel him bite down, hard enough to leave a mark, just below where the collar of your robes sits against your throat. “There we go,” he murmurs, kissing the mark. “A secret for just us.” 

He retreats just far enough to give you space to shed your robe and sleep tunic. He touches every inch of exposed skin, hands and mouth on you like he cannot bear to be separated from you for more than a moment. He moans low in his throat when your breasts are revealed, pushing you back down into the mattress to bury his face in the soft mounds. You moan again as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, the sound high and sweet in the quiet of his room. The vibrations against your nipple of his answering moan make you squirm against him, and you thread a hand in his hair, unsure if you’re trying to keep him close or push him away. 

He releases your nipple with a pop, blowing teasingly against the spit slicked peak and laughing low in his throat when you squirm against him again. “You taste so good, starlight. I can’t think about anything else,” he moans against you. He slides a hand down, teasingly dragging his fingers down your skin to your folds, where he swipes a finger through the wetness that he finds at the apex of your thighs. He teases your clit with a finger, tracing nonsensical shapes over it until you’re panting breathlessly underneath him. He slides a finger in, and you cling to him at the sensation of him inside you. He adds a second finger, slowly working you open, moving his fingers and rubbing his thumb over your clit. You can feel something twisting in your gut, a molten heat that spreads from your center to the rest of your body. 

“I wish I could do this for longer, but I need to be inside you, starlight,” he murmurs. He brings his hand, still slicked with your wetness, to his shaft. He strokes himself a few times, before lining himself up at your entrance. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes, Gojo, please,” you beg, dragging your nails gently down his back. 

“Say my name,” he growls, pushing into you slowly. There’s a prick of pain as he enters you, but he reaches down to rub your clit and lets you slowly adjust. Once you open your eyes again, he grabs your hand and twines your fingers together, pressing into the pillow next to your head as he starts to move. 

“S-satoru!” you cry out, arching your back at the sensation of him inside you. 

“That’s it,” he encourages you, using his free hand to hike one of your legs further up on his back, opening you up to him. You can’t control the noises you’re making anymore, clinging onto him as he pounds into you. Gojo doesn’t  seem to be faring much better, squeezing your hand and scattering mindless kisses wherever he can reach as he sinks into you. “Come on, cum for me starlight.” He bites at your neck, and with a twist of his thumb on your clit you find yourself coming apart at the seams. Your back arches and you clamp down on him, pulling a deep stuttering groan from his chest. You feel him twitch inside you, and as your body relaxes you feel a rush of warmth inside you. He finishes with a long moan, dropping his head to rest in the crook of your neck. 

Gojo loops his arms around you and rolls over, letting you rest on his chest. You feel him press a kiss to your hair as he rubs a soothing hand up and down your spine. You move to get up, but his arms stay fixed around you. “Don’t leave,” he begs softly, his wide blue eyes staring up at you from his mussed sheets. You’ve gone this far, you decide. What’s a little further? 

“Okay,” you whisper, nestling back down against his chest. He hums happily and pulls you closer, and between the gentle caress of his fingers, the warmth of his skin, and the beat of his heart you find yourself drifting back to sleep. This time, your rest is peaceful, unmarred by dreams of any kind. 

You wake early, before the sun has risen. Gojo is still asleep, one arm loosely  around your waist. You take in your state of undress, and spend a moment thinking about what to do next. There’s no future for the two of you together. You know this. For that to happen, you would both have to abandon your duty, and you know Gojo is as unlikely to waver in his duty as you are to walk away from yours. However, you can’t bring yourself to regret anything. Slowly, as to not disturb him, you climb out of bed and grab your clothes. You dress quietly and turn back to Gojo before you leave, coming over to stand next to his bed. 

“Goodbye, Satoru,” you whisper, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. Then, you walk away, shutting the door quietly behind you. You are quiet as you return to your room. There’s not much to do to prep for your trip, but you find what you can do to keep your hands and mind busy in the short time between now and your departure. 

Yuuta greets you in the hangar, but seems to sense that you’re not up for conversation this morning. You finish your flight prep together, and take off a little before you’re scheduled to leave. As you leave the hangar, you see a flash of white hair on the ground. You know he’s down there, but you choose not to look, focusing on the sky above you and the stars beyond.

One hyperspace jump later, you and your temporary apprentice land in the Dantooine enclave. Once you step out of the ship, you are greeted by the familiar sights and smells of the first home you can remember. The enclave smells like sunlight on warm grass, and old parchment and ink. It feels like coming home.

You are greeted by Knights you remember from your days in the creche, and introduce Yuuta to them. They are instantly taken by the young boy’s earnest charm, and you leave them to exchange pleasantries for a moment as you walk, taking in the familiar sights. Your comlink buzzes, but you choose to ignore it. 

The both of you settle into your new environment quickly. Yuuta blooms like a flower under the doting care of the older archivists who are overseeing your work for the week, and spends every moment he can outside. After the first day, you introduce him to the wonders of the sunburn ointment the archivists of the enclave make for people who spend as much time out in the sun as he has. Your comlink has been buzzing regularly since you arrived, and you’ve taken to leaving it in your quarters, trusting the enclave masters to let you know if any important messages come through for you while you’re in the archives. 

Four days into your trip, the enclave gets a ping from a distress beacon deep into the plains. You volunteer to investigate, bringing Yuuta along to help him with his field experience goals. In the interest of urgency, the two of you share one of the enclave’s speeder bikes, and you track the beacon to a grove of blba trees far to the north of the enclave. You leave the speeder bike a safe distance away, and reach out with the Force to try and assess the situation. Strangely, nothing appears when you cast your net, which sends a cold feeling trickling down your spine. Making a sign to Yuuta to be quiet, you approach the grove. 

The beacon is embedded in the ground, flashing and beeping in intervals. There are no bodies around it, and after further investigation, not even signs of conflict. Your feeling of dread intensifies; either this is a simple prank or a trap, and your instincts are telling you it’s the latter. 

“Hello, little light,” comes a smooth, deep voice from behind you. You straighten, and turn. Geto stands behind you, dappled in light and shadow underneath one of the trees. His hair is longer, and he’s clad in unfamiliar robes. A strange saber hilt is strapped to his waist, though he makes no move to draw it. “I have been waiting for this reunion for a long time. But before we can be properly reacquainted, I must speak to your young friend here.” 

Geto turns to Yuuta. “Greetings, young Padawan,” he calls from across the glade. “I am glad to finally meet you. The rumors I have heard about you are simply fascinating.” 

You step in between them. “Stay back, Geto,” you warn, hand on your saber. 

“I came simply to talk,” he raises his hands in a placating gesture. He looks over your shoulder, where Yuuta is watching warily. “My name is Suguru Geto, young one. My goal is to liberate those blessed by the Force in our wide universe. Those blessed with gifts like ours should have people at our beck and call, instead of being at someone else’s disposal, don’t you agree?”

“We have our gifts to defend the weak,” Yuuta recites, taking a step back. 

Geto clicks his tongue. “So new to the Order, and already reciting their scripture. Think, young Padawan, how many more people would we be able to help, to save, if things were different? Don’t you wish Rika could have been saved?” 

You hear Yuuta’s gasp, though he tries to hide it. “That’s enough, Geto.” You draw your saber, finger on the ignition. “Don’t make me fight you.” 

Geto ignores you, continuing to look at Yuuta. “Will you join me, Yuuta Okkotsu? All I want is to make the galaxy a safer place, one where young ones like you don’t have to become soldiers, and one where girls like Rika simply get to live.”

You hear Yuuta waver. You refuse to sway his emotions- you know this is a choice he must make on his own. He takes a step forward and your heart drops for a moment, before you hear the sound of his saber leaving his belt.

 “I’ve heard stories about you too, Suguru Geto,” Yuuta says, leveling his saber at the man. “I’m not sure that your vision for the galaxy is not one that Rika would have wanted to live in.”

“What a shame,” Geto shakes his head. “If you will not join me, then take a message back to your Masters. Either they bring you to Malachor within a month’s time, or I will unleash what I have learned in my time in the shadows on both this enclave and the Temple on Coruscant.”

Your blade ignites with a hiss. “That won’t  happen,” you level your blade, the tip pointing steadily at Geto. “Yuuta,” you call the Padawan’s name without breaking eye contact with your former friend. “Take the bike back to the enclave. Tell the Knights there what happened.” 

“I can’t leave-” Yuuta begins, but you cut him off.

“Go, Yuuta. It is my duty to protect you and the rest of the enclave. Tell them what happened, and return with reinforcements.” You feel the boy’s emotional conflict, and you use your abilities to bolster his resolve. He hesitates for another moment, before nodding and clipping his saber to his belt. 

“I’ll be back for you!” he calls over his shoulder as he darts to the bike. The engine roars to life and you hear him take off over the plains. 

The only sounds in the glade now is the wind rustling through the tall grass, and the hum of your lightsaber, still ignited and leveled at one whom you had once sworn never to raise a blade against.  

“What a loyal dog,” Geto shakes his head. “This is not quite what I had in mind for our reunion. Though if you insist we come to blows, I will indulge you.” He unclips his strange looking saber from his belt, and the scarlet blade roars to life with a crackle. You set your feet in your stance, lifting your blade to meet his as Geto comes flying at you. There is a sizzle and crackle as the blades cross, sparks flying in your vision as you stop his swing. 

You push back, using a blast of Force energy to break his guard and swing at his weak spot. He manages to leap out of the way of your blow, his robes fluttering on the wind. Your blades crash together, his scarlet saber crackling with a strange energy. It shoots off sparks that burn your hands and face, and you find yourself on your back foot, trying to guard against his powerful swings. 

In an attempt to regain some ground, you take a risk and drop under one of his swings, the sparking blade flying just past the top of your head. As you stand up, you position your saber in the path of his momentum, hoping that you’ll at least be able to wound him.  

Geto chuckles. In a flash, he’s caught your saber hand, twisting your sword arm off to the side as his momentum carries you both to the ground. “I taught you that move, little light. I appreciate your resolve, but I will not be felled by such a trick.” 

You watch his gaze drift lower, to where the collar of your robes has loosened. “Oh, what’s this, little light?” his free hand nudges aside your collar, revealing the shadow of the mark Gojo had left on you several nights before. “Who could have left this on you, little light?”

Geto powers off the saber he has held to your throat so he has clear access to your neck. He leans down, delicately sniffing along the skin that still bears the marks from your night of passion. “It was our dear friend Satoru, wasn’t it? I can practically smell him on you,” Geto purrs. “I did tell you to indulge, I suppose. I wish you would have waited, I wanted to indulge in you first.” 

“What’s your game, Geto?” you ask. You wiggle your fingers, trying to subtly get a grasp on the hilt of your saber.

 He clucks his tongue at you. “Now now, none of that,” he grabs your saber and clips it to his own belt, out of your reach. “I told you my plan- I want the boy. I’ve given those fools at the Temple everything they need: a reason to doubt a boy they already fear, and now I have you. You think Satoru wouldn’t give up that little apprentice of his to get you back?” Geto strokes a hand down your neck, pressing his thumb into the healing bruise just under your collar. 

“I suppose the question now is, would I give you back for one apprentice?” he muses, looking down at you. He slides his hand up, grasping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “There’s something about you that just makes me want to keep you, my plan be damned. I doubt you’d mind, you’d just be trading one pretty tower for another. Either way, you’re very important to what happens next, and I can’t have you trying anything that would only end up hurting you. So, sleep, little light. You’ll want the energy for what comes next.”

Geto’s smile is the last thing you see before your eyes close, the power of the Force command dragging you under. You feel him lifting you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin, and then the darkness takes you.

[wizardfrog69]

What about sigma, mykola and fedya getting a morning wood and having a gn reader help them out👀👀 (headcanons) thank you hun

I'm gonna assume that the they are supposed to be hard when they woke up cuz idk what morning wood means, if I got it wrong you can just explain it more clearly and I'll write it then, I'm sorry if I misinterpreted what you said. Thank you for the request tho! :)

'•.¸♡ did you have a nice dream? ♡¸.•'

Gn!reader

Nsfw

Please if you don't feel comfortable with nsfw/nsft content do not read this

Feat. Sigma, Nikolai, Fyodor.

Sigma

Sigma was moving in his sleep and softly moaning out your name, you were awake at this point and not wanting to wake him up you just lay there and admiring the fact that he dreams about you not only during the day but also at night.

When Sigma woke up he was slightly embarrassed remembering the dream he had just moments before and realising you were awake and could feel his hard dick made him even more embarrassed.

"Did you have a nice dream dear?" You asked in a slightly seductive voice.

Sigma was speechless and didn't know how to respond to your inquiry, did you hear him?

'Would you like me to help you with that boner?'

He nodded as he could feel you hand stroking him over his sleeping wear making the pink tint on his face to deepen in colour.

You pushed the cover away and pushed down his pants and bowers with one swift motion and out sprung his dick, free for the eye to see.

You lowered down to kiss the tip while keeping eye contact with him, then you started sucking just the tip to tease him a bit, you could Sigma getting impatient so you started to go in fully bopping your head up and down.

Sigma came quite quickly, and into your mouth without a warning. You pulled your head up and swallowed most of his kiss and kissed him, forcing him to taste himself in your mouth.

Nikolai

He's more, how do I say, open about having a wet dream? Basically if he woke up with a boner you will definitely feel it, either on side of you thigh between your legs.

If you wake up first you can see a slight smile on his lips while his eyes move about. Once he wakes up and sees you're awake he'll casually mention his dreams and what you were doing.

He won't ask you to do the same things but atleast help him out a little yk.

After much or no convincing at all he got you on board and you agreed to giving him a morning hand job for good luck.

Don't be surprised if his pants are already off when you move the blanket to reveal his dick as hard as a rock pointing to the sky.

You slide your hand down to meet his cock, it only twitches from your touch and Nikolai's smirk only widens.

You wrap your fingers around his dick and start moving with a slow pace at first but gradually increasing the pace as only seconds pass.

Soon his pretty moans fill the room while you admire his pretty face, he softly grabbed you by your hair and pulled you up to his face to kiss him, once you placed your lips on his you could feel something wet trickling down your hand

Fyodor

Fyodor never moved while asleep so when you woke up with him ever so softly moaning in your ear with one of his hands on your thigh you were quite surprised, was he awake? But upon inspecting his form closely you could be sure he was asleep.

Why he was acting in such a way you couldn't even begin to imagine but it all came to light when fyodor woke up. When he woke up a sly smirk crawled across his face when he saw you staring at him with a faint hint of a blush across your cheeks, he remembered his dream well and what you did for him in that dream, his assumption was that you heard him maybe moan your name softly in his sleep onec or twice so he wanted to put that into use.

Fyodor's hand edged closer to your waist and his hips closer to yours, his goal? To get you to 'help him deal with his problem' and this could only be archived by you being obedient and doing what he so nicely demands of you.

He told you to suck him off and maybe he'll repay the favour later on.

You were kneeling infront of him and his dick which was ready for you to take it in your mouth and wait for you to suck the living he'll out of it till he could no longer feel it, and that is what you attempted to do anyway, your tongue and mouth did wonders for the man infront even if he didn't show it much.

After a while of hair pulling and mouth fucking, fyodor came into your mouth while his dick was deep inside your throat, you swear you could have chocked on all that cum but you've managed to survive while his cum seeped from your mouth, you tried swallowing everything you were given.

༺♡༻ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 ⋆ 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 ༺♡༻

I actually like how this one came out, I just have a lot of requests to work on so my requests will be closed but I'm hoping not for long.

Have a great day/night!

-with love, Az the wizard frog.

[writer-by-the-sea]

this might be a lil different then what you usually get but maybe some nsfw content with elliot and farmer where farmer is attracted to elliot’s hands but is shy about it and ultimately he catches on and leans into it while they get spicy 🤭

NSFW / NSFT (Beware of typos) GN! Reader

I glide my fingers across my piano, plucking each key softly but with a hint of flare. I know the farmer stands behind me, their hands joined together and hanging in front of their stomach. They smile down at me, nodding along with the notes–

But what I play is an assortment of nothingness, a mix of notes that don’t come together to create any actual music. It is absolutely horrid to my ears, and yet… I don’t miss the heated looks the farmer gives me. 

No–

Not me. 

My hands. 

I chuckle softly, the farmer unaware that I know of their dirty little secret. It didn’t take long to catch on. 

At first I assumed they liked my hair, for any time that I would run my hands through it they would watch with wonder. But then their eyes would track after my hands; pulling on the collar of my shirt, handing them a sheet of paper, gripping an apple as I bit into it– always watching my hands. 

“Do you like it?” I asked and paused my playing, my fingers gently stroking up and down the keys but not pressing hard enough to create any sound. 

The farmer nodded very eagerly, grinning at me as they spoke. “I do! It’s very beautiful!” 

Hah. The little liar. 

I spun around in the chair, bringing my hands to my lap where I then whipped my palms over my trousers. They weren’t actually sweaty by any means, of course not, I only wished to bring the farmers attention to my groin as I slid my hands even higher up my own thighs. 

Admittedly, this was a first for me. Attempting to turn another on simply by flexing and showcasing my hands. My fingers were thin but long, soft from years of skincare, and my fingernails were slightly stained with ink... I didn’t see the appeal– but as my hands rested above my groin, openly laying against my thickening cock… I saw the farmer gulp. 

“I’m afraid I’m not as skilled as I once was,” I lied. “Perhaps these old hands of mine aren’t as trained as they once were.” I brought my hands up in front of me, twisting them this way and that, an obvious display before hungry eyes. 

“You play beautifully, Elliott,” the farmer mumbled, their attention solely on my hands and not the words that I spoke. 

“Do you think so?” I asked with an overly dramatic sigh. “I think I need more practice with my… fingering.” 

Oh that did it. The farmer quickly looked away, biting their lip and cursing under their breath. 

I smirked and stood, moving along past them and began pretending to make us tea. “Unfortunately, my writing doesn’t give me much time to work on my fingering skills; and really it’s so much more useful to have someone to practice with.” I turned back to them, smiling as I continued, “I very much appreciate you allowing me to try my fingering with you, my dear farmer.” 

“I-” they paused, shaking their head a little as if they could will away any impure thoughts. “Anytime, Elliott.” 

“Oh shoot,” I focused back on my tea. “I don’t have any clean spoons.” The farmer watched with wide eyes as I opened my jar of honey, scooping two fingers inside carelessly. “You don’t mind, do you?” I asked and let the honey drip from my fingers and into one of the mugs. 

“Don’t mind, no. I don’t mind,” the farmer spurted out, about to say more but their body freezing before they could. 

I lifted my hand to my mouth, sliding my fingers past my tips. I moaned around the honey that coated them and opened my mouth to let the farmer watch as I rolled my tongue over my fingers to lick them clean. “Mh, your farm really does make the best honey.” 

They continued to stare at me, their own hands twitching at their sides as they watched– absolutely entranced as I teased them. 

I took a step toward them, a new idea taking hold as I couldn’t contain myself any longer. “Taste it.” My voice was low, a whisper as I brought the same fingers to their lips. The honey no longer remaining, but the demand and fire within me urging them to suck on my fingers. 

The farmer opened their mouth slowly, their tongue darting out to lick my fingers before I eased them fully into their mouth. “Very good, darling.” My praise had them closing their eyes and sucking a little harder. “Keep going.” 

Every brush of their tongue sent sparks down my body, my zipper tight against me now as I watched them and imagined something else. The farmer stepped closer, my fingers sliding down their throat now but they only continued to suck. Their hands went to my hips, their fingernails digging into my belt as they worked my fingers in their mouth. Little bites were adding into the mix, gentle, and deliciously sinful bites that had me sliding another finger into their mouth. 

“So talented, aren’t you?” 

With that, the farmer pulled back, gasping and heated as they gazed back at me. “Elliott–” 

“Remove your clothing and get on the bed,” I muttered and removed my jacket. “Now.” 

The farmer scrambled away from me, tossing their clothing about my cabin and then sat at the edge of my bed, waiting like a perfectly trained submissive. Something we may have to explore another time. 

“On your back,” I told them and worked the buttons of my shirt. 

They listened so well, pulling themselves into the middle of my bed, going so far as to spread their legs and present themselves to me. Their chest heaving, their eyes glossed over with pure desire. Fuck, I don’t know how I was going to control myself with someone so perfect before me like this. We had never been together before, not even a single kiss but– 

They were so eager, so willing, so positively devilish before me that I could do nothing but cave. 

I crawled into the bed, leaving my trousers on; as this wasn’t for me. 

This was for them. 

With my fingers already wet, I eased a single finger into their entrance. I watched in awe as they opened for me, their thighs already shaking with need, their moans quiet but desperate as I curled my finger towards myself and against their walls. They watched as I worked them open, gasping as I eased a second finger in, moaning as I gripped their thigh with my free hand and squeezed them lightly. 

I worked my fingers more quickly, sliding them in and out, circling around their entrance, pushing down and slipping in yet another finger as I continued to please them. My cock rock hard against the fly of my jeans, my hips bucking softly into the mattress to follow after them as I seek some kind of release. I wanted to drop my head between their legs, to finally taste their sweetness as I fingered them– 

But the way they watched my hands! 

I couldn’t give in, I couldn’t take my eyes off them as they stared down and watched as I fingered their entrance with ease. My long fingers slipping in and out, covered in a mix of our spit and their bodily fluid. A complete mess before me, and oh how I loved it! 

“E-Elliott!” They cried out, their body going tense, their breath hitching, the soles of their feet pressing down into my mattress. As their eyes closed I finally gave in and quickly added my tongue to the mix. Their moans came out louder than before, their bottom lifting ever so slightly from the bed as they finished. I was groaning to myself, humping the bed like a starving man, cumming in my boxers as I finished just after them. 

The farmer laid panting, sweat on their brow and across their collar bone. I carefully slid my fingers out, smiling to myself as they let out a weak little moan. I moved to lay beside them, my clean hand going to their cheek and aiming their face towards my own; and I kissed them. The farmer sighed against my lips, exhausted from our session, but eager as they moved their lips with my own.  It may not have been the piano practice I had in mind… but I was glad to finally have someone to practice on.

[knavesflames]

Hi, can I request a transfem!bodyguard arle for a mafia princess reader smut. They spend alot of time together with arle teasing reader all the time. They gradually fell in love with each other as time passed. So 1 day, reader got into danger & almost died but arle saved her. Reader then decides to act on her feelings for arle.

⭐️anon

Hello ⭐️ anon 😄😄 I do indeed have an idea for this, I’ve been sat on it since I received your ask. Please enjoy!

Word count: 1275

Contents: fingering, orgasm denial, degradation

Nsft utc!

Both of you remember the day you met so well. In your mind, at least, it could have been yesterday. The day your parents realised you didn’t just sit at home and do nothing anymore. You recall the day your father sat you down at the table, and how your eyes locked onto red crosses, Arlecchino’s velvet voice filling the room as she introduced herself. You were angry, at first. Angry that your parents decided suddenly that you couldn’t do what you wanted, that without warning, you’ll have some woman following you wherever you went. A woman with an oddly short temper, too, it seems.

She’s been a woman of few words since you’ve known her. She chooses to stand in silence behind you as you do what you do, only stepping in with a simple sentence every so often. It almost irritates you, yet somehow is more than you could ask for. You’d rather not have someone following you and obsessing over your every move. You just wish she’d talk a little more.

You make it your challenge to get more than a singular sentence out at once, and you do so by doing reckless things over and over again. Or, if you have nothing to do outside of your home, asking her to do things you already know she hates just by the look of her. Eventually, she speaks more than before. Still, barely, compared to everyone else you know. Only slight teasing and a little conversation. Then again, you have everyone else wrapped around your finger, too. How could you not, when your parents would kill them the second they so much as made you frown? It’s been made abundantly clear since the second you were born; if anyone touches a hair on your head in a way you dislike, they’ll be slaughtered before they can even blink. It’s entertaining to you, really. How the grunts started calling you princess after you decided to be a princess for Halloween aged 8. You might as well be one, at this point. You have the power equivalent to a princess, you think. A mafia setting, of course.

Arlecchino struggles to deny her own feelings towards you. She reveals nothing, not a single hint, leaving you and everyone else oblivious to the way her stomach flutters when you wrap your arms around her in a drunken state, or the way she wants to ravish you when she sees you changing in the mornings. If there’s one thing she’s good at, it’s stoicism. However, she finds herself becoming increasingly frustrated at the situations you place yourself in, how you can easily walk into a room with five men who carry guns, only to flick one of them and call them annoying. She thinks you’re asking for a death sentence.

This time, however, you’ve found yourself in a situation you can’t get out of by charm. You managed to irritate the wrong person, and before you knew it, you were cornered with a pistol pointed at your face. It’s a blur, really. The next thing you can recall is Arlecchino harshly dragging you out of there, stepping over the bodies on the floor. Her grip is different, it’s not as loose or distant. It’s angry, like if you’re not careful you’ll end up joining the people on the floor. There’s no teasing remark from her now, no quiet huff of amusement, just pure, blazing anger.

The second she deems you both safe, her hands are quick to shove you against a wall, a growl rumbling in her throat as she snaps at you. “What the fuck was that? Are you trying to get yourself fucking killed, or are you making my job extra hard?”

Your eyes stare up at her from your position, slightly widened, but you’re not scared. Not really, you tell yourself, but the look on her face is something you’ve never seen before. “It was funny, calm down,” your voice is quick to dismiss her, a snicker leaving your lips. “Did you see their faces?”

“Of course. I also saw their faces when I had to murder them before they murdered you. What the hell is wrong with you? Do you not understand how to be safe? Do you not understand that I don’t wish to watch you die?”

The look on your face can only be described as incredulous. Why does she suddenly care? Why is this the most emotion she’s ever shown towards anything? You can’t find it in you to be serious, for once. You’ve never needed to be before. “Why, do you care? Are you secretly in love with me?”

It was a joke, but the look on Arlecchino’s face makes you falter. The way her cheeks flush a light shade of pink, the way her eyes drift to the side before her face hardens again. She goes to speak, but your mouth is already moving, your voice quieter, almost like you don’t want anyone to hear.

“You’re in love with me.”

Arlecchino’s response? Her own lips crashing aggressively against yours. The kiss is full of tongue and teeth and she clearly doesn’t care you could get her killed with a single wave of your hand. If she’s going to die, let her die in bliss with her hands against your skin, she thinks. Her hands move and wander around the body she’s long ago memorised, ripping off clothes with reckless abandon before her hands wrap around the underside of your thighs, lifting you until she can walk with you in her grip. The angry way she throws you against your bed, filled with soft pillows and blankets, does nothing but serve to turn you on more than you already are.

You let her pry your thighs apart, let her snarl out her annoyances while she begins finger fucking you in harsh movements, unrelenting as you gasp and arch against her. The fingers inside of you clearly know what they’re doing, crooking in the perfect angle to elicit sweet noises from your lips. You’re unsure if this is an act of love, annoyance, or punishment. You don’t care which, not at this second. All you care about is chasing the release you’re so desperate to have. You’re getting there, too, your hips moving at the perfect rhythm while your pussy greedily sucks in her fingers.

A low chuckle is felt against your ear when you start clenching around her, a chuckle that sounds almost sadistic as her fingers move harder and faster, bringing you as close as you possibly can get.

“What, do you want to cum?” Arlecchino sounds positively enchanting, even with the rumble in her voice and the bristled tone of her voice. Even so, you can only manage out a whined “please”.

“I see. Well then,” each word, every single syllable is punctuated with another thrust and curl of her fingers. “Cum for me, pretty whore. That’s what you are, hm? Begging for men’s attention. Cum for me.”

Each word sends you closer and the coil in your stomach tightens more until you feel yourself twitching, your moans becoming almost silent. You just about reach where you want to be, and then—

Her fingers pull out of you at record speed, ripping a desperate plea of “no!” from your lips, an almost guttural cry escaping you. Arlecchino is not only in love with you, she is angry, and she’s done the cruellest thing you can think of at this moment. The next time she talks, it’s filled with less venom, and something almost akin to affection. Almost.

“Whore’s can cum when they stop getting themselves into trouble.”

[blueberrybladelemonade]

Massage the Stress Away

Summary: Peppino had another exhausting day (Or, more honestly, all week). When he gets home you decide the best way to get your anxious and stressed out man to relax is to pamper him with a massage. 

Contains: Massage time! Nothing NSFT.

Peppino’s shoes drug on the floor slightly as he made his way into your shared home. As he stopped at the entrance to remove them, he scanned the room. Silence being the only greeting. 

You must not be home yet. Or you had already turned in for the evening. Peppino felt the faintest pang of disappointment, but brushed it off. Instead he felt empty and listless. His shoulders sagged. Head hung low and her posture wasn't as perky as it normally was.

Turning in for the day sounded like a good idea. 

The dark circles he sensed that formed under his eyes felt as if they could pull him down towards the darkness of sleep at any moment. 

It was as if all of the weeks problems were solidly weighted onto his back. Gustavo had needed to take a leave for the entire week, something regarding a family reunion. With Gus gone Peppino had to run the entire pizzeria himself, for the most part. 

You had generously decided to take time from your own job at the cafe to help out. Despite only making pizzas and taking orders for a few hours, Peppino still watched you closely. 

It wasn't that he didn't think you capable. No, he just worried you might get hurt. Be it a cut, burn, or slip, he would feel awful if you got injured. 

Peppino blinked, realizing he had had made his way into the hallway bathroom and flipped the light on. He rubbed at his eyes, moving to the mirror and stared at his own expression. Blank and exhausted. The hint of a headache had begun setting in. Peppino opened the mirror to reveal the medicine cabinet on the other side. 

* * * * 

Peppino placed a hand on the handle to the bedroom, resting his head on the cool wooden door. Thoughts and stressors from the week continued to play back in his mind. He hoped he would be able to get to sleep right away tonight, instead of tossing and turning for hours. 

He muttered to himself as he opened the door to your shared bedroom, and to his surprise, found you laying on the bed, dressed in a black silk robe, illuminated by candle light. Tiny flames dancing throughout the room while his mind blanked. 

Peppino took a few steps into the room and closed the door behind him. 

"What-a -?"

"Come here and lay down Pino,” you say, beckoning Peppino onto the bed. As he approaches you, you gently tug at his shirt. Taking the hint, you watch him peel the clothing from his body. An involuntary smile curls at the edges of your lips as your eyes set on him. 

You pull a cushion from behind, directing Peppino to make himself comfortable on it. As he settles into place, you watch his head turn, his eyes looking up at you. 

“Right now, just breathe and try to clear your mind, okay?” you say, giving him a quick peck on his temple, before leaning over the bed. You come back up to reveal a bottle in your hand. 

Peppino shuddered as the cool oil slid down his spine. The pleasant scent of orange and cinnamon lingering in the air. You began running your hands over his body, at first lightly, then more firmly. Peppino groaned as you found a knot at the base of his spine. You pressed deeply, working at that knot in particular, until you felt it begin to loosen.

"Mmm...Cara." Peppino mumbled. You knew he wasn't fully relaxed, but at least he had let go of a little bit of the tension. 

You decided to work upwards from that knot at his spine to his shoulders and neck. Fingers finding every bit of tension along the way. To get better access, you opted to settle for sitting over Peppino's legs, now leaning forward to put your hands on his shoulders. Peppino’s eyes slid half-closed as he sighed. 

"Feel good?" you whisper. 

"Mmhmm," Peppino groaned back, drowsily content as your hands rub against him. You began to work into the muscles there and in his neck. Unsurprisingly, there was a mass of knots. You worked at the knots, continuing to dig you hands and fingers into them. Occasionally pausing to pour more oil onto your hand. 

Smiling as Peppino groaned beneath you, you work your way down his back again, paying extra attention to the spots where the most tension had gathered. 

A comfortable silence filled the room aside from quiet groans and your hands against skin.

After a few minutes you ran your hands down his back again, this time just rubbing gently. There were no more knots you could find but you knew it still felt good. You smile as you look down. Peppino had closed his eyes at some point. Utterly and completely relaxed. 

You ran your hands up Peppino's back one last time, leaning over, and slowly settled your weight onto him, nuzzling gently at his ear.

"I love you." You whisper.

"...love you too" a muffled voice replied.

Peppino tensed as you began to gently nibble on his ear. 

"If you tense up like that, you'll ruin all my hard work." you reply quietly, a small grin playing across your lips. 

I LIVE! Let's hope I can crack out a few fics soon again for everyone that's been so patiently waiting :)

[cipher-and-adjacents]

INTRODUCTORY🗣️🗣️

HI!!!!!

A basic introduction for this account, mainly just tagging information and Rules. This is a LONG post, so everything after this is underneath a line, but I will split it up into smaller TLDR posts for each thing if necessary!!! First, I wanna specify what this account is, if that isn't already obvious

This account is confessions blog for Bill Cipher and Cipher-Adjacent people to send confessions in. These confessions can be about ANYTHING, even just talk of mundane stuff that they happen to want attached to their own name. This blog has no DNI and we will NOT specify anything about our opinions on things, because we want 1. To not be mauled by Dogs 2. To have a decently "safe" space here.

SO YEAH! Also, this account is run CURRENTLY by two fictives from the same System. For now, our respective "Mod tags" will be "#Mod Olly" and "#Mod Six". Only one of us is technically Qualified to run this account (That's a joke. The joke is I'm the "Bill". LAUGH PLEASE.)

Talk of NSFW stuff is below, so when you get to that section keep that in mind.

General Tagging

Custom Tagging

All posts will be tagged with "#BillCipherConfessions" unless otherwise specified. If you specify your "type" (I.E: fictive, kin, etc.) then it will be tagged with "#BillCipher[Type]" (EX: "#BillCipherFictive").

If requested, the usual tag can be changed from "#BillCipherConfessions" to whatever name you prefer (EX: "#BillPinesConfessions" "#[Name]CipherConfessions"). This does not equal a custom tag, but rather a tag for people with different names, either currently or just in-source. Do not request this to be equal to a Custom Tag.

A blacklist for tags will be added as the account gains traction and requests for Content Warning tags. As for now, only very obvious content warnings will be added.

Not Safe For Work/Tumblr Confessions

Custom tags are specific tags made so you can easily find your own posts. You may not use single, plain words as a Custom tag. You may not use already existing Blog Names as a custom tag.

Custom tags will only be added to a list once used upwards of Five separate times. If you have used your Custom tag five times or more, and it has not yet been added to the list, feel free to send an ask about that and it will be added.

Please, keep your custom tags as appropriate as possible. Sexual content and slurs will not be allowed as Custom Tags.

Political and Discourse Confessions

NSFW/NSFT confessions are permitted to this account, but there will be two separates actions taken towards these posts.

1. Asks that only hint at Sexual acts, but do not describe them, as well as ones with talk of Makeout sessions or things of similar sensual, but not necessarily sexual content will be tagged with a "#CW Sensual" tag.

2. Asks that describe sexual acts in any amount of detail will be posted as a text post and hidden under a line, as well as having a "#CW NSFT" tag added to the post.

There is little to nothing we will not post, but please do not send asks that are about currently real harm towards others. Things related to your source and memories are fine, but anything that has been done to currently real, living people will not be accepted and your confession will be deleted or sent as a text post with the offending part removed.

We will not add commentary to any ask sent relevant to those topics. We will not comment on our stances on ANY topics, not the ones listed above or any other ones. This blog is meant to, in some amount, be a "Safe" space for people. If you do not like something, ask for a blacklist tag to be added, and then block it.

We will, of course, accept asks of almost any kind aside from a very specific list that will hopefully be put into words soon. On that note, we will post any and all sides of Discourse, but there are certain discourses we will not post asks around. Note, that confessions with these topics will be allowed, but not confessions related to discourse around them:

Paraphilias

Radqueers

TransIDs (in relation to Radqueers)

Do not start discourse around these. You may send asks about these topics, but anything that can lead to arguments or debates will not be added. If you attempt to send an Ask response to an ask with one of these topics included, and you are attempting to debate, argue, or otherwise instigate the other person, your Ask will be removed.

[burdenedwithfaith]

"I can only have FAITH that I did the right thing..."

Roleplay/in-character blog for John Ward, Lisa Pearson and Father Garcia from FAITH: The Unholy Trinity.

Independent and semi-selective

Multifandom and OC friendly

15+ years rp experience

18+ topics (potentially triggering content, including blood, harm, depression and death, among others.)

Will answer anon asks. Named anons can interact via consecutive asks. (Example)

Open to shipping and smut - Separate NSFT sideblog available at request.

Topics/Tropes include: Religious/Occult/Psychological horror, Catholicism, Demonic activity, Holy experiences, Potential violence/gore, Temptation, Hierophilia, Worship/Corruption.

Happy to interact with most characters, but prefer: Angelic/Demonic characters, Other priests/members of the church, The penitent/confessing sinners, "Unholy" characters (vampires, Nephilim etc.), People who are "lost souls"/needing guidance, Hierophiles (😈)

You don't need to have played or be familiar with FAITH to rp with John, I'm quite happy to play him as a regular priest, or generic exorcist.

This John is set after the events of FAITH, in a slight alteration of the best ending, where he settles down with both Father Garcia and Lisa (the secret third ending!) His bio is based either on direct canon, 'word of god', or speculation upon canon hints that have not yet been fully confirmed.

✞ Rules ✞ Mun ✞ Muses ✞ Verses ✞ Relationships ✞ Tags ✞

[envihellbender]

Bashir should explore Garak’s cloaca

Characters: Julian Bashir, Elim Garak

Fandom: Deep Space Nine

Content: nsft, alien/xeno, cloaca

Julian’s bedroom was significantly better furnished than Elim’s, so it was the natural for the particular Cardassian to prefer them retiring to Julian’s quarters. Being a simple tailor, Elim had a small room behind his shop. Julian, the ship’s doctor had a large, neat apartment that was furnished the same as his flat back on earth. Rich furniture, shelves filled with neatly arranged text books, a large wardrobe in the living room filled with sports gear and coats, screens and computers filled the living room, which not had a sofa and coffee table for comfort. Everything was worked based, except for in his room which had his teddies, his old games consoles, and a few board games. That night they were both tangled up together on the large bed, their mouths locked together and Julian’s arms wrapped around Elim’s torso, holding him as closely as he physically could. He let out a slight irritated whine as Elim pulled away, both of them gasping for breath and Julian’s hazy, lustful eyes staring at Elim’s lips.

“Tell me, doc- Julian, have you ever been with a Cardassian?” Elim asked, Julian looked away and paused for a moment. He felt as if Elim’s dark eyes were burning into his bare chest, not even hiding his lust for Julian’s surgical scars and soft hint of a gut. Julian wondered for a moment if making him feel uncomfortable and inadequate was a kink of Elim’s.

“I- no but- I know what I’m doing. I’ve- I’ve studied the anatomy-” Julian’s cheeks burned in embarrassment as he was interrupted by Elim’s laugh. Julian’s eyes traced the Cardassian’ share chest, the tantalising scales that went from his collarbones to just above the waistband of his trousers. Julian could see a slight hint of a darkening that showed Elim’s cloaca. It had been strange getting used to Elim’s lack of nipples, but the cloaca… he was fascinated by it.

“I don’t think that’s the same thing,” Elim grinned. “In fact, I believe there is a remarkable difference between a medical examination and sexual intercourse. I would rather you didn’t force a thermometer into my-”

“Yes, yes, I get the picture,” Julian interrupted. He turned away from Elim and sat up. “If you don’t wish to-”

“No, I do.” Elim sighed, pushing himself up and reaching for Julian’s thigh. “I suppose I’m-” he sighed and gave a sheepish smile. “I’ve not slept with a Terran before. And I’m not sure what you will be expecting.”

“Are things moving too quickly for you?” Julian asked, turning towards Elim. He found his hand begin to toy with the waistband of Elim’s trousers, his thumb less than an inch from his cloaca.

“I- absolutely not,” Elim stammered. His lips parting and eyes widening. He let out a shaky breath, he swallowed and Julian pushed him into the bed as he quickly slid between Elim’s legs. The Cardassian let out a breathless chuckle, he was always surprised by how quick Julian’s movements were. His hands began fumbling with the button of his trousers as Julian pulled them down.

Julian stopped for a moment, allowing himself to stay framed by Elim’s legs and seeing him beneath him. He was so beautiful, like he was chiselled from marble. He wanted to look at him forever. He nervously stroked the opening of Elim’s cloaca, grinning as he felt the usually restrained and stoic Cardassian tremor and whine. He nipped Elim’s belly as he gently pushed inside the warm, wet hole. He easily slipped three fingers in at once, and found Elim’s erect, hidden cock buried inside. Julian relaxed slightly, it didn’t seem that different to having sex with a Terran - just with a few extra steps. Elim let out a clipped gasp he felt Julian massage his cock and his knuckles brush against the soft tissue of the inside of his cloaca. Julian started to become more confident, gently pushing his fist inside of Elim, and gripped his cock.

“How am I doing?” Julian asked smoothly with a grin as he felt Elim’s body curl and writhe beside him.

“Very- very good, are you- are you sure-” Elim stopped when he felt Julian rub his thumb over the sensitive spot just behind the head of his cock. Julian could feel Elim’s muscles tighten beneath him and the hot breath of his whining gasp hit his ear.

“Tell me, how does oral sex work for a Cardassian?” Julian said, his voice thick and his lips dry. “Because I want nothing more than to taste you.”

[andypantsx3]

˖˚˳⊹ — pretty boy summer masterlist

this is the masterlist for the pretty boy summer collab, a collection of shouto-centric x reader fics! warnings for nsfw and potential dark content; minors please dni! links to each will be added as the fics are published. if you're interested in joining, check out the collab post for guidelines—sign ups are open until june 15, 2024!

heliotrope @auraxins

as the son of the town mayor, you have certain duties to uphold. one must find a wife, sire an heir, and prepare to inherit your father's legacy. you most certainly are not supposed to fall in love with a travelling cowboy; but how can you resist a face as pretty as his? — content: male!reader, wild west au, nsft, period-typical bigotry, star-crossed lovers, hurt/comfort, trauma bonding (more tbd)

#HEARTBURN @shibaraki

who knew your run-ins with the suspiciously accident prone pro-hero shouto would capture the hearts of the general public—or that a bit of harmless flirting could have such inconvenient consequences? — content: afab reader, meet-cute, social media + shipping, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff + humour

lights, camera, chaos @pikatsum

You and Shouto are forced to make your first televised appearance as a couple. What starts as an embarrassing invasion of privacy completely upends itself once you realize just how cutthroat the world of reality TV can get. “You should know,” said Shouto, “this isn’t a genuine case. The “criminals” are all actors and my team has informed me the situation was drafted in a writing room. You will be perfectly safe.” Somewhere, you imagined that harried production assistant was hissing into her mic, ‘We can cut that, right?’ “Oh.” you said, still feeling a bit lightheaded as you flipped through the “case file,” sucking down a depressingly-bland smoothie of blended greens, protein powder, and the barest hint of strawberry, “That’s… good.” — content: Reader uses she/her pronouns, Quirkless Reader & Pro-Hero Shouto

the sun glares @bkgpackets

As a college student, you’re always looking for some quick cash to last you the semester. Luckily for you, pro hero Shouto is in desperate need for a temporary personal assistant for a few months. Your initial plan of keeping your head down is knocked off course when he begins to request stranger and stranger items, like takeout with your company? You’re persistent but keeping to yourself proves to be difficult when his eyes take you in like a moth to an open flame, you’d run any light in the city to answer his calls. — content: pro hero shouto x college student/personal assistant reader, shouto is a menace, fluff, angst, hurt/no comfort

rank em up @whatisreggieshortfor

Ashido and Uraraka just want to play a silly lil game with you. Who says they can’t have ulterior motives? — content: what's ranking among friends, established relationship/not-so-secret relationship, chat fic, sfw

Under the Festival Lights @kimkaelyn

After a mission finishes earlier than expected, you and Shouto take advantage of the sudden free time to enjoy the local festival. Unbeknownst to you, it is a lover's festival and you happen to be harboring feelings for your dual-haired companion. — content: pro hero au, pro hero fem reader

Nightswimming @threadbaresweater

Every summer, your family visits the same lakeside resort. It's a nice way to unwind after a busy year of college classes and part-time work, not to mention indulge in your love of swimming alone while the rest of the world is fast asleep. You're pleasantly surprised when an old friend from your childhood shows up one evening, and you find that nighttime in the water is more magical than you've ever dreamed. — content: shouto x f!reader, summer romance vibes, no quirks au, most likely sfw + extra heavy petting

one night (fruit) stand @mangostarjam

You wake up from a one night stand with the most gorgeous guy in the world and leave thinking you'll never see him again. So why does he keep showing up at your farmer's market stall? — content: pro heroes, aged up, fluff, misunderstandings, Just Some Guy/quirkless reader, misunderstandings, more tags tba

Best Intentions @knightofwands-upright

You know him like the back of your hand, only something is off about your relationship. Shouto has never taken you on a public date, posted to social media about you, or let you meet his family. How could you be so far apart but so close at the same time? Are you content with being a secret? — content: mature rating, nsft elements, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

three-part honesty @seiwas

honesty, you've realized, is shouto’s most cunning trait—a quality that's endeared you over the years now rendering you into a stuttering, fumbling mess like never before. — content: sfw, f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!reader, post-canon, aged-up pro-hero!shouto and assistant!reader, reader wears a dress, workplace romance, development of feelings, confessions, boss/assistant dynamics, co-workers to lovers (ish), fluff.

lady of land and sea @characterovercharm

With nothing but your hand in marriage to offer up for the protection of House Yagi, you agree to marry King Enji Todoriki's son and heir. You arrive at court with your wits sharp, tongue honeyed, and head held high. You are even prepared to use what small claim you have to the Earth Principle of Smash if you must, to carve a place for yourself. Not even being forced to keep company with your father's bastard will stop you. You are prepared for a cesspool. What you find yourself in, however, is an inferno. — content: Medieval fantasy, Romance, Family-drama, strangers to lovers, Prince Shouto/Lady YN, arranged marriage, canon-level violence, period-typical misogyny,Quirks exist as something else, Bullying Midoriya (we get better, promise), Enji being a terrible dad

swapped! @lees-chaotic-brain

after you get hit with a strange quirk, you swap bodies with your long time crush and hero partner todoroki shouto. somehow, every single thing that could possibly go wrong goes wrong and chaos ensues — content: afab reader, suggestive, periods, mentions of blood, swearing, fluff, crack, todoroki is a little shit (when is he not)

One Moment of Forever @birinboom

When Shouto is forced to take a break from work due to a quirk injury, the two of you decide to go on a camping trip to your favorite lakeside spot. — content: fluff, established relationships, camping, nature therapy, pet names (love)

title tbd @bluebird-in-the-breeze

summary pending... — content: tags pending...

that night @harbingerofchaosposts

To celebrate the end of finals, Mina Ashido drags you to her boyfriend's house party. You went to appease her, but as you stay you get overwhelmed. When you go to leave, she notices you staring at one Shouto Todoroki and takes it upon herself to act as your wingman. Shenanigans ensue. — content: college au, songfic, ashido mina is good friend, ashido mina is a little shit, wingman ashido mina, kirishima eijirou is a ray of sunshine, alcohol

Accidental Touches and Bad Things @foxboot

While training together during class Shouto accidentally grabs your chest. Later when he comes to apologise, he catches you at the wrong time, only to then be interrupted while apologising (twice) — content: aged up, training during class, accidentally grabbing your chest, walking in on you, accidental flashing, smut, oral and squirting, getting caught, dry humping, reader has a quirk, Shouto is fascinated with your body, female reader, reader has to stand outside in a towel at one point, implied first times for both reader and Shouto

A Fateful Hue @sillylilreader

In a world of soulmates, where you experience color upon finding your soulmate, you discover yourself entangled with a certain dual toned employee after a rather amicable breakup. — content: angst, fast paced, alcohol, breakup, not a happy ending

Cherry Syrup Kisses @arestorationofbalance

The summer months bring many things to yours and Shouto’s relationship–warmer weather, poolside drinks, beach days, public scrutiny. See, summer in Japan is the slow season for pro-heroes, meaning it’s also slow for the media that follows them. How do they fill this gap? By reporting on pro-heroes’ relationships or lack thereof, of course! Understandably, you’re self-conscious about some things, but Shouto’s there to prove you wrong. — content: GN!reader, established relationship, fluff, “hurt/comfort”

file updated: falling in love @the-travelling-witch

In a world where androids have been established in everyday life, it should not come as a surprise to find one setting up shop next to you. shouto, however, seems to have a mind of his own, especially when he does things you are sure are not part of his programming. it begs the question, is there a line where programming ends and humanity starts? — content: fluff/ slice of life; android! shouto x florist! reader (gn), assault (not described in graphic detail), no beta readers (this isn’t the omegaverse)

right place for you @tomurasangel

summary pending... — content: tags pending...

walking with you @zanykingmentality

The last person you expected to see in the conference room that day was Pro Hero Todoroki Shouto. — content: falling in love, mental health issues, mutual pining, aged-up character(s), quirkless reader, guitarist!reader, explicit language, mentioned past parent death, found family, (sort of) strangers to lovers, angst & humor

title tbd @kingtomura

summary pending... — content: tags pending...

loads of fun @andypantsx3

After moving into your first apartment together, Shouto seems more amorous than ever. You're not sure why—but when he comes home to you doing a load of laundry, more than your clothes are about to get tumbled. — content: nsfw, pro hero au, domesticity kink, gn + afab reader, established relationship, fluff, emotional sex, table sex, cunnilingus, 18+ mdni!