#does fish make noise??

[steinbit]

⬇⬇⬇ marcille 🤝 nozaki ⬇⬇⬇

[filipnofishstickfailure]

I HATE DRUM BARREL MODE!! I HATE DRUM BARREL MODE!!

[fisheito]

🥰🥰🥰

[feelgoodinct]

nsfw, mdni.

simon becomes an absolute dog when he sees you in his shirt.

cw: possessive simon, sex on carpet (ouch), unprotected p in v, creampie, size kink (?).

simon is a good roommate. he’s organized, clean, pays rent on time, and minds his own space. the only thing is—roommate is hot. stupidly hot. you know he doesn’t have a girlfriend and he’s never once brought back a girl let alone mentioned one. you figured your little crush on him would pass like all the other (it does not). you start dropping hints that you find him attractive. like wearing your tightest tops, brushing your ass against him while reaching for a cup, even leaving one of your lacy thongs to mix in with his laundry. he never bites the bait. you start to think that maybe he just doesn’t find you attractive or even worse he finds you creepy. so you tuck your schoolgirl crush away into the cavity of your chest.

you close the washer with your hip, cradling your laundry basket back to your room. you hear the familiar turn of your front door lock letting you know simon is home from his morning gym session.

you pad into the living room to ask simon if he needed any clothes washed. simons back is turned from you when he begins to slip off his trainers, dropping his gym at the foot of the door.

“need any clothes washed? i’m starting a load up right now.” you ask eyeing the movement of back muscle underneath his compression shirt.

he finally turns to you and starts to respond “nah don’t think-“ before he snaps his mouth shut when he sees what you’re wearing. “that mine?” his voice gruff, it’s his army issued shirt that is long enough to cover your shorts. a deep green color that frays at the hem and has his last name in bold at the back of it. you notice he’s staring at the worn fabric waiting for an answer.

you look down, “oh yeah. sorry was doing laundry found this in hamper. my clothes are in the wash. hope that’s okay?” you sound apologetic like you just did something unforgivable. jesus christ what were you thinking wearing his shirt without asking. you shift trying to ease your embarrassment.

he’s on you in three short strides. making a noise between a growl and snarl. you don’t know how or when you both ended up on the living room floor. frankly, it’s the last thing on your fucking mind now that you’re on your knees cheek pressing into the shag carpet. you can feel the heat of his stare between your legs. you get a glimpse of your shorts and panties strewn across the floor leaving you in his shirt. you wait with bated breath for him to touch you. you wiggle your hips in a silent plead to get him to do something, anything…everything.

he gives the flesh of your ass a heavy smack that has you clenching around nothing. “be good now.” is all you hear before the sting leaves an angry red mark that you know is gonna leave you wincing for the next week. simon smooths a hand over the back of your (his) shirt making a noise in the back of his throat.

you hear shuffling behind you before you feel the head of him catch on to your opening making your mouth gape like a fish out of water. he groans at the contact, kneading the fat of your hips, before he presses in painfully slow with a hiss. you whimper into the carpet, fists balling, feeling hot all over. your cunt pulses trying to make room for him inside your womb.

“i know. i know, pretty girl. almost there.” simon bites back a hiss when you clench at his words. you think you might die like this. laid out on ugly apartment carpet trying to take simon’s cock. you could cry with relief when you feel simon’s balls meet your clit letting you know he’s all the way in. simon lets out a guttural sound bordering on animalistic at the sight of you speared open on his cock, last name across your back, absolutely crying for it.

he fists the bottom of the shirt to keep you still and eases his hips back just to sink back in slowly. the pressure in your navel hurts so good it’s starting to make you dizzy. simon sets a pace that has you trying to cant your hips back to meet his thrusts. he lays a heavy palm in the middle of your back, just under the boldened ‘RILEY’, keeping you pinned giving you no choice but to take what he gives you.

“prettiest fuckin girl i ever seen. gonna give this cunt the proper treatment she deserves, yeah?” he bends his left leg, somehow sliding in deeper. there’s no doubt that you can feel him in your lungs. “s’deep simon.” you slur, reaching a hand back to weakly press against his stomach. he chuckles at the act taking both wrists into one of his hands pressing them at the small of your back, forcing you into a deeper arch. you sob at the change in angle. your nipples being rubbed raw by the friction of his thrusts.

“needed this real bad, huh? don’t worry baby. i’ll make sure you don’t go without it again. wearing those tiny tops think i didn’t notice.” his voice rough and deep behind you. “uh huh.” you reply without a second thought, you don’t even care that you’ve been drooling into the carpet or that you’ve been caught. simon gives a deep chuckle at how pliant you’ve become just from some good dick.

he knows your close by the increasing volume of your sounds. he never lets up his pace determined to give you his all. “where?” he asks in a quick breathe. you take a few seconds to register his words. “huh?” you manage to squeak out. “where do you want me, pretty thing?” he says in an almost pained voice. the gears turn in your head before you speak up “inside. want it inside. m’clean. pill.” resorting to short clipped words. you beg, as if you have to, simon thinks.

your orgasm comes hard and fast leaving you sobbing out garbled version of please and simon. simon is not far behind burying himself as deep as your bodies will allow and comes inside with a pinched “oh fuck.” he pulls out with a pop and watches his spend leak down your slit leaving a small puddle on the floor that he knows he’ll have to scrub out later.

simon pats your backside affectionately. “don’t think we’ll be doing any laundry today” he says with a grin that makes you giggle. “yeah, don’t think so.”

[kthologue]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (𝐢) – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

contents. period piece, forbidden love, ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior, lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips, 7.2k words of gojo unable to process his feelings

notes. sorry for leaving everyone hanging after the prologue (make sure to read or reread since it's been a hot minute!) TT but here it finally is!!!...not proofread soz :x

series masterlist | chapter 1/2

You haunt his dreams, he’s sure. Gojo never believed in superstitions or the supernatural despite what all those old geezers preached. That was until your figure started to appear every time he closed his eyes.

The familiar scene of you gets cloudier every time it appears in his dreams, but he knows it is still you. It’s nearly comical how even his subconscious knew of your everlasting beauty. Everytime, the same sequence replays: a grand celebration he had hosted in the palace in honor of a prosperous year of his reign. The two of you were overlooking the guests, seated at the head of the room.

You’re wearing court attire that was altered to fit solely you (it hugged your body in such ways that made Gojo’s head spin), fabrics and dyes all originating from foreign lands. In your hair sits beautiful hair ornaments, swinging with every movement you make.

However, Gojo knows it is not the materialistic items that make you beautiful, no, he knows that it was simply you.

“Has anyone told you how unnerving your eyes are?” You quietly comment, eyes still trained on the party in front of you. Satoru cracks a slight smile, not ashamed in the slightest that he was caught ogling you.

“I thought you said you loved them?” He blinks at you, attempting to lean closer to show off his blue orbs. “You’re starting to hurt my feelings, beloved.”

You purse your lips, subtly leaning away before he can initiate improper conduct. He does not take your action well, snaking an arm around you to firmly cage you in his hold. Normally, you would welcome his advances but you’d rather not be publically humiliated in front of the entire Imperial Court and all of the influential clanheads of Japan.

“Please have mercy on me, Your Grace,” You whisper, eyes flitting across the room, making sure there were no eyes on you. Luckily, everyone was too absorbed with the luxurious goods Gojo had imported for the occasion. It was the anniversary of his coronation, after all.

He makes a noise of disapproval, “Can’t. Must let these people know that you’re mine.” Gojo closes the gap between you and sniffs your neck, softly moaning at your scent. He knows that if the geezers looked up from their silver spoons they would have a heart attack at his public display of affection. Not that he cares. His unorthodox ways may make them livid, but Gojo knows they won’t do anything. He was going to pave the way for the Golden Age of Japan�� with you by his side.

“Your Grace!” You giggle at the ticklish sensation left by his warm breath. Any attempts of shying away from him are fruitless.

“Don’t run away,” His other hand firmly places itself on your clothed thigh, restricting your movements. All of this is hidden by the table that sits in front of the two of you.

You’re looking at him with those shiny eyes of yours, silently pleading with him. “Can’t this wait until tonight?”

He huffs, “I have suffered enough today without your presence. Ijichi kept begging me to finalize the preparations, but who am I to care? My flower was too busy having fun without me.” 

“You and your dramatics. I was only away to tend the gardens in the Consort’s Pavilion. Which, might I remind you, is fading by the moment because someone refuses for me to stay there.” You tut, picking up your chopsticks to eat the delectable fish placed in front of you. 

Gojo’s stare never falters as he watches you pick up a small piece, eyes shining as if he were watching a spectacle. “You know I can’t sleep without you.”

“And I, you.” You pop the piece inside of your mouth, chewing happily at the flavor that fills your tongue. “You know, I–” You began, but were cut off by the sudden seizing of your throat. 

The chopsticks in your hands clatter loudly with the porcelain they are dropped on. 

Gojo's breath hitched, his eyes wide and trembling with horror as he watched you struggle for air. "My love?” he choked out, his voice cracking under the weight of rising panic.

Your hands immediately travel to your neck to alleviate the sudden burning feeling that blossomed in it.

“[Name]!” He shouts, large hands quickly rising to cup your cheeks. In a desperate attempt, he squeezes your cheeks to get you to spit it out. 

"Poi–poison," Your voice was hoarse, your face losing its color by the second. Satoru was frozen with fear. “Don’t eat it…Satoru.” With those parting words, you lose consciousness.

“[Name]?” Satoru’s hoarse voice can’t stop repeating your name like a prayer, hands lightly tapping your cheek as if it was going to bring you back to life.

Gojo wanted to laugh. Even when you were dying, you worried about him. Not that it mattered. You weren’t going to die. He refused.

Sometime during your struggle the chatter had stopped, and all eyes were on you. Satoru looks up from you to bark orders to the guards he had placed around the room. They leave to summon the Imperial Physician while Gojo is left clinging onto your limp body, praying to the Heavens above that they will grant him one more miracle.

—

Back in his chambers, Gojo’s head pounds, but he’s not sure whether it was the speed he shot up from his bed or the dream itself. He feels hot, sweat running from his bare chest that heaves to bring oxygen to his quickly pumping heart. He’s nearly certain his chest is going to cave any second with the way it constricts with pain. It was like he was a geezer, he humors silently.

“Your Grace?” A delicate hand cups his cheek. 

He follows the direction of the hand, eyes slowly trailing up the feminine body it belonged to, barely covered as a result of the thin silk nightgown that highlighted her natural curves. “Are you alright? It was only a nightmare.” She cradles his face, moving slowly in his vulnerable state.

Satoru breathes heavily, eyes widening as they travel from her breasts to her face, beautifully illuminated by the sparse moonlight leaking from the window. Her dark hair falls past her shoulders, obscuring some of his access to her skin. His beautiful mistress. He’s sure that she is whispering sweet nothings into his ear, but the images of his memory keep replaying in his mind, occupying it from functioning properly. ”Himiko, how did you–”

“I heard you and I couldn’t bear it.” Her finger softly caressed his flushed cheek, trying her best to ignore the bewildered look on her lover’s face. 

THE PRESENT —

The journey to the Inner Palace was a blur. After a long goodbye, a horse drawn carriage was sent to the front of Yaga’s estate the very next morning. Your mind was elsewhere the entire time, too busy mulling over your past and now damned future. 

That is why when the carriage comes to a complete stop in front of the servants’ quarters, you are startled to meet two awfully familiar faces.

The two are silent, eyes carefully watching you exit the carriage. The purple set of eyes steps forward first to take your bags from you. 

“Ah thank you Mister—“ Your voice trails off, eyes looking up from the dark robes in front of you only to be surprised with a familiar face. “L-Lord Geto?” 

His lips quirk up slightly upon recognition. “Welcome back, [Name].” Your heart throbs at his indifference from the last interaction you had. It is quickly concealed by the excitement in your voice when your eyes spot a comforting pair of eyes.

“And Kento?” You light up.

Suguru raises an eyebrow at your familiarity with the Imperial Chancellor. He knows he should be relieved that you held no malice towards himself and Nanami, knowing the struggle you were subjected to when banished. However, there was a foreboding feeling gnawing deep within his soul. Guilt? Fear? It was hard for Geto to put a finger on it.

Nanami simply nods in acknowledgment, but stays silent under Geto’s watchful gaze.

“[Name],” The black haired man starts. Your eyes return to his face. “I wanted to be the first to greet you here, but I suppose Lord Nanami must have had the same idea.” He chuckles lightly, but the mirth never makes it to his eyes. You don’t notice Lord Nanami stiffening up.

“To say I am flattered would be an understatement, Lord Geto.” You return the same sugarcoated pleasantries. 

Geto must have noticed your unease, reminding you, “Please, there is no need to keep your guard up around me. I don’t bite.” His voice has a teasing lilt. It does little to soothe you. 

“Can you blame me, Lord Geto?” Your eyes meet his purple ones that narrow at your allusion.

“I suppose not.” He hums. “Though I must tell you that the incident was out of my power. I must carry that burden everyday, so I implore you to forgive me, [Name].” He throws out your given name once again like you were familiar. 

When you don’t respond, he continues, “I know, it is easier said than done.”

“You don’t say.” You bite your tongue as soon as the words leave your mouth. He fails to acknowledge how your last interaction was your banishment, served just by the man in front of you.

A sigh escapes Geto’s lips. "As a gesture of my accountability, I place myself entirely at your disposal. Simply name a favor, and it shall be fulfilled." You can’t detect anything but sincerity in his words, leaving you speechless. “Of course, it had to be within my power, but I shall grant you one request in return for your forgiveness.”

“I—” You were too shocked to form a thought. “I don’t know what to say.”

Suguru’s eyes crinkle, "Our last encounter may not have been pleasant, but I still consider you a dear friend, after all.”

“I am flattered to say the least that you had decided to grant me such honor,” you gape.

Geto shakes his head softly, “You shouldn’t hold me to such high regard. I could hardly bear the weight of your disfavor.”

“You know I don’t harbor any ill feelings towards what happened,” you say softly. It wasn’t Suguru’s decision what happened that night.

“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself otherwise,” the black haired man in front of you pushes. You relent. Perhaps you should just bite your tongue and accept the opportunity presented. “Please. Just think about it.”

You watch in silence as Geto turns around to walk away. His sudden offer leaves your mind racing. A man of his caliber, second to none but the emperor himself, would be able to grant any of your desires. Perhaps you should ask to import Western literature, tales of great fantasy— or, you could think bigger and ask to move back with your clan. Though you highly doubt he will entertain the latter, considering your indentured servitude to the Inner Palace. 

Your racing thoughts are diverted when you hear someone clear their throat to capture your attention. You perk up when you realize that Lord Nanami was still here, and you have completely ignored his presence.

“I am just as surprised to see your immediate return to the palace.” Nanami adjusts the glasses on his face, sympathetic eyes never leaving you. You flush under his gaze. It was quite embarrassing knowing the entire palace probably had caught wind of your incident with the emperor.

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips. 

“It wasn’t my intention,” you mumble. “But I suppose if fate has decided, there is not much I can do.”

“You truly believe that it was fate that brought you here?” Nanami asks, the hold he had on your arm tightening enough to catch your attention but not enough to hurt. 

“I-” You begin, words failing to conjure. “I’m not sure.”  You had thought that your banishment was fate, but now that you had been brought back, it felt like you were simply at the mercy of something cruel.

Nanami watches your eyes staring wistfully at the blue sky above, his own flickering to each of your features. He wonders if you know that your expressions gave you away. It’s more endearing than anything, from the flutter of your eyelashes, the wrinkle of your nose, to the furrow of your eyebrows. Only a blind man would deny the fact that you were easy to fall in love with. However, it would make a foolish man to dare to pursue you.

 He’ll appreciate you and your charm from afar where his head may stay attached to his body.

The comfortable silence shared between the two of you is disrupted by a flock of handmaidens passing by. Nanami tenses his jaw when the voices become audible. 

“Is it really her?”

“It’s said that she tried to sneak into the Emperor’s chambers.”

“Is that Lord Nanami? My, we must warn him about that whore that tried to seduce the emperor!”

“Poor Lady Himiko.”

Anger swells in your chest. Though you’re not sure what tale had managed to escape the servants’ quarters, but you pray that they may never reach the emperor’s ears. It was simply profane to the beloved consort, an offense that you know Gojo would never forgive you for. You can deal with nasty gossip, having previous experience, but you doubt you can handle being beheaded for conspiring against the emperor and his consort.

“I’m afraid no matter how much time has passed, the palace rumors seem to never die.” Nanami sighs, exhaustion evident in his gravelly voice. “I advise you to brace yourself. Within these coming days, the fire will only get hotter.” He doesn’t bother elaborating on his words, choosing to lead you to your new chambers.

“Thank you for the advice Nanami,” you exhale. “However, I am sure I’ll be able to manage on my own. After all, I’ve been doing it for quite some time.” The moment the solemn words leave your mouth his eyes soften. You quickly look away, flustered.

“I know you can, [Name]. I suppose my anxieties are misplaced, forgive me.” You can feel his stare bore into the side of your face. He sighs, “it is a habit that comes natural to me.” He worries for you. The words go unsaid, but you are able to decipher his double meaning.

Your heart flutters at his kind implications, eyes too shy to meet him once more. Instead, you choose to fix your gaze on the doors to the servants’ quarters. The blonde man beside you takes the liberty to open the doors to your new room. 

At the sight in front of you, your heart lurches.

Before you stands a familiar head of white hair, standing tall with his back turned towards you. His head was tilted slightly, as if scrutinizing something unseen, before he slowly shook it. Then, with an unsettling calm, he turned to face you, his gaze heavy with unspoken intent.

“I’ll take her from here,” Gojo’s icy voice breaks the silence that had overtaken you and Nanami.

“Of course,” Nanami bows deeply. You turn to bid the man goodbye, but he leaves hurriedly without sparing you so much as a glance. You can’t help but furrow your eyebrows in confusion, eyes longingly watching your old friend walk away.

The moment the shoji doors close behind him, Gojo clears his throat.

“[Name],” he tests the waters, his movements deliberate as he takes a slow, tentative step toward you, the air between you thick with an unspoken tension.

“Your Majesty,” You respond shakily, retreating a step as your breath catches.

“Please,” Gojo mutters breathlessly, his voice trembling with unspoken desperation, his eyes pleading with an intensity that only deepens the pit in your stomach. He takes two deliberate strides forward, the gap between you vanishing as though drawn by an invisible force.

“No,” You shake your head, pain flashing across your face. You won’t let him waltz right into your life after carelessly tossing you away, not without consequence. It is to no surprise that words seem to go unheard to the man in front of you. His eyes glistened in the dim lighting, fixed intently on your face, tracing each feature with a quiet focus, as if he were trying to burn them into his memory.

The world seemed to stay still just for the two of you. But it only lasted for just a moment.

“I’m so sorry,” Gojo mutters, a strong hand flying to the back of your neck tugging you towards him for a searing kiss. The instant his lips crash against yours, he lets out a soft whimper, as though the very act consumes him. Despite the passage of time, your body responds instinctively, like it was always meant to be this way.

It felt like the only thing that mattered was the fact that he was right in front of you, your fast beating hearts making contact with the way he had your chest pressed to his. All while pushing you against his body, Gojo allows his hand to trail down your back, revisiting every valley that he had once memorized.

“Mph,” your traitorous hands find their way into his head of white hair. He smiles into the kiss upon hearing his name leave your mouth.

“Yes?” He leaves a wet kiss at the base of your throat, bending down to continue his frenzy.

“This isn’t right,” the words came out of your mouth in a whisper, as if you almost didn’t believe them yourself.

“You’re wrong.” He inhales deeply, attaching his mouth onto your collarbone, ”I was made solely for this.” A small whine leaves his mouth when you hesitantly try to push him off. He uses his innate strength to fight your attempts.

“May I ask something of you?”

A kiss was placed on your jawline. Another on the base of your throat.

“Anything,” he breathes.

“Do you..” Your voice falters. “Do you love her?” Like you loved me? 

The trail of kisses come to a complete stop. For a second you fear you may have overstepped. The emperor’s silence was palpable. The only sound that filled your ears was the harsh thuds of your own heart. 

“[Name]...” he slowly stands up to tower over you with his height. The distant look in his eyes forms a pit in your stomach.

“Answer me,” you whisper, the pit deepening.

“I am just a man,” he reasons. Your heart drops at his answer.

“You could not even take an oath of monogamy,” you spit. “You are nothing but a weak man.” 

His eyes shoot up from their trance frantically. You fear that the lust he had been tempted with had worn off, and now you were left with nothing but wrath.

“I understand that I was nothing but a spoil of war, but you could have done me one last favor by allowing me to leave on my own accord. You did not have to cast me away,” your vision starts to waver with the tears that puddle in your eyes. “If I knew your heart had yearned for another I would have left.”

The set of blue eyes that stare at you are no longer the lively shade that you had grown to love. They have been replaced by an uncertain stormy grey. It was almost laughable. A man, so big, who had the world in the palm of his hand looked so small.

A cruel part in you enjoyed seeing the turmoil in his eyes after the events that had transpired.

“Had I known the tribulations I put you through, perhaps I would have put a second thought before choosing you.” Gojo exhales, pinching in between his eyebrows. “But I must assure you that you weren’t the only one suffering.” And for a moment you think you see lightning strike in those stormy irises of his. 

Your eyes widen at his confession.

He lets out a deep sigh, “The head maid will be here any minute. I bid you farewell. I pray that with our next interaction, your heart learns to soften.”

Ever for dramatics, Gojo leaves before you can get the last word.

—

True to his word, the head maid soon comes to assign your duties. You’re not surprised at your new set of responsibilities: tending to the emperor’s garden, sweeping the floors to his chambers, and overseeing his meal preparations. 

It is nothing out of your skill set, and you’re more than willing to accept your predicament rather than being burned alive for offending the emperor on numerous accounts. You suppose even Gojo was kind enough to spare you from that cruel fate. It almost softens your heart enough to decide to forgive him of his transgressions. Almost.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud clang of a pot. When you turn your head towards the direction of the sound, you’re met with the head maid’s stern gaze. Her eyes narrowed on the wooden spoon you had been mixing in the broth. 

Ah. She wanted you to perform the mandatory poison test before serving the food to the emperor.

However, just as you bring the spoon to your lips, it is violently swatted from your hand, clattering to the floor. Your eyes sadly linger on the spilled broth before snapping to the culprit, your gaze filled with disbelief.

"There were strict orders to ensure that the task did not fall to you," the head maid, Ogami, declared sharply. The elderly woman, with silver hair neatly tied in a tight bun and skin etched with the marks of years spent in service, raised a wrinkled finger in your direction.

You blink, taken aback by her sudden reprimand, the sharpness in her gaze leaving you momentarily frozen. It didn’t make sense—there had been no mention of any such orders, no one had informed you of any changes. You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch in your throat, swallowed by the weight of her unyielding stare. 

How strange.

Days pass by like a blur, your routine falling into place. When dawn arrives, you’re up to prepare the emperor’s garments for the day. Your mid-mornings grow even busier as the palace comes alive with activity. Whether mending torn hems or ensuring the ceremonial robes are free of imperfection, you move like a ghost through the corridors with hopes of going unnoticed. The emperor’s unusual antics, however, make it nearly impossible to slip by unnoticed. He seems to have a knack for drawing your attention. His antics often begin at ungodly hours, long before the sun graces the horizon, as he attempts to coax you into sharing the first meal of the day with him. You decline each time, yet his persistence never wavers, a boyish grin always accompanying his invitations. By the time the sun reaches its zenith, Gojo finally departs to attend to his imperial duties. It’s only then, in the quiet lull of his absence, that you find the chance to make real progress with your work.

“To say I am relieved because of your presence would be an understatement, [Name].” Nanami and you overlook the palace’s main courtyard. 

You smile, hands filled with silks that needed washing, “I could say the same.” The emperor’s outrageous requests were driving you mad. Your mind flashes to earlier that week when he had insisted on hand feeding you honey! You wonder how he survived without a personal servant before you took the position.

“His Majesty is as eccentric as ever, I assume.” Nanami’s eyes crinkle. 

You laugh, “You know him too well!”

“I didn’t have much choice,” he shakes his head, smile ghosting his lips. “We’ve known eachother since our youth.”

You perk up at the news, your curiosity piqued. The confusion must have been written all over your face, prompting Nanami to offer a quick clarification.

“It was brief, our time at the academy. But we were both under the instruction of Yaga,” he elaborates. Huh. What a small world, you think as Nanami paints an unexpected connection. 

“I am struggling to imagine you and him studying under the ever serious Yaga,” you giggle.

“I was in the year below him. It was Lord Geto and Shoko who were first hand witnesses to his nature.” Nanami tells you. 

You nearly dropped all of the emperor’s clothes, “Shoko?” The revelation that your own friend was acquainted with the emperor stopped you dead in your tracks. Had she known him personally all along? If so, she made no effort to reveal it. Instead, she appeared almost disgusted by him, though you had chalked it up to her disdain for the new ruling dynasty rather than a personal vendetta against the man himself.

“I am aware you were well acquainted with her in your time in the Outer Palace, no?” “Yes, but–” you pause, before eyes snapping back to Nanami. “How did you know?”

Nanami blinks, momentarily caught off guard. His eyes widen a fraction, and he opens his mouth as if to explain, but then falters, his words stumbling.

Before he can say anything, a soft, familiar voice drifts from behind you.

“[Name]!” A servant of Lady Himiko calls urgently, her voice laced with a sense of urgency. You turn to face her.

“Yes?”

“The emperor requests your presence in the ceremonial hall. He says it is of great importance and that you must make haste!” The girl exclaims, grabbing your only free arm and tugging you toward the hall.

You glance back at Nanami, your eyes silently promising him that this conversation is far from over. He gives a small nod, acknowledging your unspoken words as he bids you farewell.

“Ah, may I ask what the emperor requires of me?” you ask, trying to maintain some control over the situation.

“You’ll see,” she replies, her tone clipped. Without sparing you a glance, she pulls you forward with determination, clearly focused on her task.

Like a lamb heading toward slaughter, you find yourself helplessly being dragged through the grand doors of the ceremonial hall, your thoughts swirling with questions you can’t yet answer.

The expansive room was eerily empty, a stark contrast to its usual grandeur. The sunlight poured through the tall windows, casting long beams of light that danced across the polished floors, illuminating the intricate tapestries and the grand pillars that lined the hall. But your gaze soon shifted, focusing on the emperor’s seat at the very end of the room.

You had expected the usual scene: Gojo slouched in his throne-like chair, whiny and complaining about the mountain of paperwork he despised. But what greeted you instead was something far more unexpected.

A figure stood poised at the head of the room, commanding the space with an elegance that was undeniable. Anyone familiar with the court could recognize her signature choice of kimono—the rich plum silk embroidered with intricate gold patterns, delicate yet striking. Her hair, black as midnight and flowing like a river of silk, cascaded down her back in perfect waves, a stark contrast to her porcelain-like complexion.

It was Lady Himiko. Her beauty was legendary, whispered about among women across the nation, often compared to a living work of art. The rumors of her grace and poise weren’t exaggerated. Standing there, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting, who remained perfectly still and attentive at her side.

Her eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, your breath was stolen. The stillness of the room was palpable, and you couldn’t help but wonder why she was here, in the emperor’s seat, with not a whisper of Gojo in sight.

“Ah, just the one I was looking for!” her eyes light up when she sees her servant return with you in her hand. The gleam in her eyes fill you with unease.

“Lady Himiko, it is an honor,” you bow.

“There’s no need for that! Please, stand.” She waves her slender fingers at you, or so it seems, but at her silent command, her ladies-in-waiting begin to move toward you.

You take a step back, instinctively using the emperor’s garments, still damp from your earlier washing, as a shield against their sudden movements. The soft rustling of fabric is almost deafening in the silence that follows.

Lady Himiko’s eyes narrow at the motion, her sharp gaze flicking to the garments you hold between you and her. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays at the corners of her lips, but it does nothing to ease the tension thickening in the air.

“I understand the unspoken animosity between us,” she says, her voice smooth, but there's an edge to it that sets your nerves on edge. “I pray you will accept my humble apology.” She clasps her hands together, but her eyes remain calculating, never leaving yours.

Her words hang in the air, heavy with implication. “I had not expected the emperor to kindle such… passion for me so suddenly. It was neither of our intentions that fateful night we reunited after the days of our youth.” She shakes her head softly, laughing nervously. "How rude of me, I doubt you of all would want to hear about Satoru and I."

Your breath hitches, caught between surprise and a tightening knot of discomfort in your chest. The weight of her words presses down on you, and you struggle to maintain composure.

“I do apologize for bringing you here on such deceptive terms, but I had to get your attention somehow,” she continues. “As one who has been a former concubine, I wanted your counsel on how I should navigate this delicate matter.” If you didn’t know any better, you would say she was mocking you. But you knew Himiko wasn’t one you wanted to offend, so you bite your tongue.

Instead, you nod, steeling yourself against the discomfort crawling up your spine. “What is it that you need from me?” you ask, your voice betraying none of the wariness you feel.

Himiko’s ladies-in-waiting close in around you swiftly, subtly guiding your every step toward the emperor’s stand. The grand hall feels even larger as you’re led deeper into its heart, each step reverberating through the space.

At the end of the room stands Himiko, watching you approach with a distant gaze. The soft glow from the nearby windows catches on the polished surface of the wooden desk before her, where inkstones, brushes, and stacks of paper lie in disarray.

You pause, your gaze falling upon the desk, and that’s when you notice the manuscript she’s pointing to. Her perfectly filed nails trace the edges of the paper with deliberate slowness. Though you cannot read the characters from this distance, the emblems that adorn the papers are unmistakable. They belong to some of the most powerful clans in the empire, each one a mark of authority and influence.

As your eyes skim across the paper Himiko’s hand rests on, the characters seem to leap off the page in a rush of realization. It’s a proposal– one written by the notorious Zenin clan. You can almost feel the air grow heavy as you piece it together. The words speak of demands for more autonomy—an increase in their power, more control over the lands they already possess. And you know, instinctively, that if this were to pass, everything Gojo has fought for, everything he’s struggled to protect, would crumble into dust. His fight against the rigid clan-based hierarchy would be for naught.

For a moment, your mind reels. This is no mere conversation or request for guidance. This is a game of power, one where you’re being used as a pawn. Her eyes lock with yours, and the air between you thickens with unspoken understanding. She must’ve taken you for a mere tool to execute her own plans.

But you’re no fool, and that realization comes like a slap to the face. You straighten your posture, eyes hardening as the weight of the situation settles in.

“These seals...” Your voice falters as you stare at the emblems, your hand hovering over the manuscript as though touching it might implicate you further. The weight of the realization crashes down on you like a cold wave. You look up at Himiko, bewildered, your heart pounding in your chest. Meddling with state affairs, let alone tampering with the emperor’s documents was a crime punishable by death.

“Does the emperor know about this?” you demand, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and indignation. “This—this could be considered treason!”

“Careful with your words,” she says softly, her tone calm. “It is not treason when it is for the betterment of the empire.”

Your mouth opens as if to respond, but no sound escapes.

“The emperor has always held you in high regard,” Himiko says with a wistful sigh, her eyes narrowing on your figure. “I’ve no doubt he would find it impossible to refuse any command spoken by you.”

Her cryptic words linger in the air, their implications sinking into you. You’re left reeling, unsure of whether her remark is meant as flattery or a thinly veiled mockery of your banishment. 

She scoffs, her delicate façade cracking as her tone turns venomous. “The emperor may not know, but I see right through you. Seducing him to claim yourself as some spoil of war and twisting his mind to lead our nation to ruin—it’s sickening. Truly, a shame the assassination attempt failed.” Her words lash out like a whip, her civil mask shattering entirely.

You gasp, her implications cutting deep even as your heart hardens against the venom. Had she known–?

“Perhaps that is what the entire Court believes of me,” you manage, your voice trembling yet steady enough to carry your conviction. Months of whispered rumors and vicious gossip had thickened your skin, and you refused to crumble under her scrutiny. “But I will not allow you to sully the emperor’s reputation.”

As much as you detested Gojo, your disdain for the corrupt elders burned hotter. They had plotted your downfall, attempted to take your life, and now sought to undermine everything Gojo was fighting to build. You could not allow them to gain any more power in the Court  than they already held.

Himiko’s lips curl into a cold, triumphant smile as she picks up an inkstone and brush from the emperor’s desk. “As his Honored Consort and future Empress I command you to hold this for me while I pave the way for a greater future.” Her words are laced with mockery as she extends the inkstone toward you.

You recoil instinctively, shaking your head. “No. I refuse—” Your rejection is firm, your voice sharper than you expected, as you pull away, clutching the emperor’s garments protectively against your chest. 

The next few moments unravel in slow motion, as though fate itself had decided to humiliate you. Himiko’s gasp pierces the air as your sudden movement causes the inkstone to slip, spilling its dark, viscous contents over her elaborate kimono. The silk, undoubtedly crafted from the finest threads in Japan, drinks in the stain, the deep black spreading like a wound across the fabric.

“My lady!” Her servants rush to her side, their collective cries of alarm startle you. They push you aside as they fuss over her, their movements frantic as they attempt to salvage her now-ruined garment.

You stumble back, staring in disbelief at the disaster you’d unwittingly caused. “I—I am truly sorry—” you begin, but your words falter under the weight of the situation.

“What is going on here?”

The booming voice echoes through the hall like thunder, freezing everyone in place. You whip your head toward the source, your pulse quickening as your eyes land on the figure now standing in the doorway. The emperor himself, Gojo, commands the room with his presence, his expression a mixture of confusion and rising fury as he takes in the scene before him. By his side stands the owner of the voice, an elder, with an expression carved with barely restrained anger piercing through you.

Himiko lets out a sharp cry, her voice trembling with a convincing mix of distress and indignation. Gojo reacts instantly, rushing by her side, his features hardening with concern.

“I found her forging His Majesty’s signature,” Himiko exclaims, her voice wavering just enough to sound genuine. “When I tried to intervene, she lashed out and attacked me.” She trembles as she buries her head against the emperor’s chest.

It hits you—the full realization of her calculated scheme. This was her plan all along.

“I-I didn’t!” you stammer, your voice raw with desperation. “That wasn’t what happened at all– she was the one tampering with imperial documents. I tried to stop her!”

Gojo’s piercing blue eyes snap to yours, cutting off your explanation. His gaze, once warm and teasing, now burns with unrestrained fury. The bile rises in your throat as you see it. Anger, disdain, and worst of all, disbelief.

“Himiko,” he murmurs, his arms tightening protectively around her trembling form. Her soft sniffling only adds to the spectacle.

“To be caught tampering with imperial records is one thing,” Gojo finally says, his voice icy and cutting, “but to stoop so low as to accuse Lady Himiko? Was this an act out of jealousy? Spite? How pathetic. This is beneath even you, [Name].”

You feel your knees weaken, the tears you’ve fought to hold back beginning to pool in your eyes. “Please, you have to believe me,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of his words.

His expression darkens further, the light in his sky-blue eyes replaced by thunderclouds. “Why would I believe you?” he sneers, his tone laced with contempt.

A single tear escapes down your cheek, followed by another, and then another, until you can no longer stop them. The dam of your resolve breaks, shattered by his cruel dismissal.

“Why?” Your voice trembles, breaking as the tears come freely now. “Why don’t you believe me?”

Gojo’s lips curl into a bitter smile. “Don’t make me laugh,” he says coldly. “How could I ever believe in one as base as you?”

His words cut deeper than any blade, piercing through the walls you’d built to protect yourself. You’d convinced yourself you were immune to his indifference, but the searing pain in your chest proves otherwise.

“Leave,” he commands, his voice sharp and final. “Do not look back. Your very presence stirs nothing but disdain within me.”

You stagger back, his words striking harder than any physical blow. He might as well have drawn his sword and ended it here. The infamous tales you had heard about Gojo were once glorious images that were painted of your beloved. You had never thought you would be on the other end of his blade. 

Without a word, you turn and run, your vision blurred with tears. The emperor’s garments slip from your hands, forgotten in your haste to escape the suffocating anguish. You don’t look back, even as the echoes of his disgust chase you out of the hall.

If there was one undeniable truth that Geto Suguru knew, it was that his best friend, Gojo Satoru could be an utter fool. Perhaps it was the inevitable result of a youth stolen too soon, replaced by the crushing weight of an empire resting on his shoulders. The brilliance that made Gojo a formidable emperor rendered him hopelessly inept when it came to navigating the labyrinth of his own emotions.

And as his closest confidant, bound by loyalty and friendship, Geto Suguru couldn’t help but feel the urge to shake some sense into him—to force him to confront what he stubbornly refused to see.

That is why, when your trembling form hurries across the courtyard, tears streaming down your face, Geto Suguru can’t help but halt you in your steps. 

“I’m leaving.” you declare, your voice raw, your eyes red and swollen. The words, so resolute despite your trembling tone, catch him off guard.

“What?” he asks, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“My favor,” you say firmly, though your voice wavers. “I want to leave this place.”

For a moment, Geto says nothing, his sharp mind scrambling to process the abruptness of your request. Then he shakes his head, his expression softening. “You know I can’t do that.”

Your incredulous gaze snaps up to meet him. “So you lied to me?”

“No, not at all,” he says quickly, holding up his hands. “I meant—I can grant you time off. But as someone under the emperor’s direct supervision, I can’t allow you to leave permanently. What I can do is give you one lunar cycle away from court.”

You hesitate, weighing his offer before giving a sharp nod. “I’ll take it. Just let me leave,” you reply, sniffling.

Geto watches you for a moment longer, his chest tightening at the sight of your despair. “I’ll make the arrangements right away,” he says gently. “I’m sorry we seem to meet only under such terrible circumstances.”

“I’m sorry too,” you murmur, your tone hollow.

He hesitates, searching for the right words to offer some semblance of comfort. “Whatever he did, I’m sure—”

“I don’t care,” you cut him off, your voice colder now. “He made his disgust for me perfectly clear.” You march past him, your steps resolute despite the trembling in your shoulders. “Thank you for understanding, though I must beg you to keep this between us. Who knows what might happen to either of us if he finds out.”

Geto exhales slowly, his composure steady but his mind racing. Just what, exactly, had his best friend done this time? Gojo’s antics always seemed to leave Geto cleaning up the aftermath, but this—this was something else entirely.

Just as he promised, there is a carriage waiting for you outside of the servants’ quarters. With heavy bags in hand and an even heavier heart, you make your way toward it, each step weighted with reluctant resolve. The irony of the moment doesn’t escape you, a sense of déjà vu washing over you, as though life had played this scene out countless times before.

You turn sharply, your bleary eyes meeting the calm, hazel gaze of someone you hadn’t expected to see.

“Nanami?” you breathe, disbelief coloring your tone.

He inclines his head in a polite nod. “Forgive the intrusion, but I insist on accompanying you,” he says, his voice as composed as ever. “The roads beyond the palace can be dangerous, especially for someone traveling alone.”

For a moment, you simply stare, caught between gratitude and confusion. The warmth in your chest battles against the ache that lingers from your earlier ordeal. “And what of the emperor?” you ask, forcing a faint smile. “Would he not throw a fit in your absence?”

Nanami lets out a quiet, mirthless laugh, the sound more bitter than amused. “Perhaps,” he admits, adjusting the luggage in his hands with ease. “But he was never one to share, was he?”

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[hrrtshape]

　　　　things that won't stop you from shifting

　꒰ putting your dr on a pedestal , does not exist. it is not some glass castle suspended in the ether. it is a place like any other, as accessible as a room you haven’t walked into yet.　　

　꒰ fantasising about your dr , does not matter. your brain is not a courtroom and you are not on trial for thought crimes. imagining a place does not exile you from it.　　

　꒰ not knowing everything about your dr , won't impact. you do not need to be a historian of your own life. you do not need to have memorised the census records and economic structures of a world you are simply in.　

　꒰ being too attached to your dr , does not ruin it. urgency does not dismantle possibility. the sky does not fold in on itself every time someone desperately wants rain.　　

　꒰ not being "calm enough" , no one is breathing monkishly through their nose 24/7. you are not required to be an unmoved river stone. people shift after a long day at work. people shift mid-existential crisis. it is not yoga, it is not meditation, it is a thing that happens when it happens.　　

　꒰ doubting yourself from time to time , irrelevant. you do not need to pass a faith test. you do not need to be baptised in unwavering conviction. you just need to assume. doubt is a background noise, not a locked door.　　

　꒰ external validation , unnecessary. your reality is not waiting for someone else to confirm its legitimacy. you do not need a jury of peers nodding solemnly at your experiences. this is not an academic dissertation. you do not need footnotes and sources and a professor’s approval.　　

　꒰ "trying too hard" , not a thing. effort does not push it further away. want does not make it shy away. this is not an uncatchable fish. this is not a paradox where wanting something too much means you will never have it.　　

　꒰ failing to shift multiple times , irrelevant. past attempts do not predict future outcomes. you are not an athlete counting losses. you are not a gambler on a losing streak. every attempt is new. every moment is unburdened by the weight of the last one. 　

　꒰ an inconsistent sleep schedule , doesn’t matter. you are not being graded on your circadian rhythm. shifting does not belong exclusively to people with 8 hours of uninterrupted rem. 　

　꒰ using multiple shifting methods , neutral. you are not hexing yourself by switching it up. they are not magic spells, they are just tools. they are ways to organise your approach, not laws of the universe.　

　꒰ shifting while sick or in pain , possible. you do not need to be in peak physical condition. you are not signing up for a marathon, you are existing. bodies exist in all states. you are allowed to exist in all states.　

　꒰ not “feeling close” to shifting , doesn’t mean anything. shifting is not a feeling to be unlocked. you do not need to sense it coming like a change in the weather. it does not always announce itself.　

　꒰ having trouble visualising , won’t stop you. not everyone sees things like a movie in their head. imagination is not just images. it’s thoughts, impressions, instincts. a blind person can shift. a person with aphantasia can shift.　

　꒰ not affirming constantly , does not matter. you do not need to chant like a monk or plead sweet nothings into the void 24/7.　

　꒰ being distracted mid-shifting attempt , not fatal. you are not required to have monk-like focus. people shift thinking about their homework. people shift thinking about dinner. people shift thinking about absolutely nothing at all.　

　꒰ not having a specific shifting method , does not stop you. people shift lying down. people shift sitting up. people shift standing. people shift in moving cars. you do not need a formula to do something natural.　

[emmyrosee]

“Hey.”

“Hi?”

This is the first time in four weeks you’ve answered his phone call. He never thought he’d be the one to break no contact first.

Sukuna tried, god he’s tried so hard to keep no contact, but there’s something about your saccharine voice that lures him back like a siren. He can’t get enough of it, and the lack of it in his life drove him crazy.

What you don’t know, is how often he clicks on your contact, how many times a day he dials your number, how much his fingers long to text you.

Even if after four weeks, he’s gone without it.

It’s hitting the call button that he hasn’t done. Until tonight, of course.

His mind scrambles to find an excuse for calling you, jaw opening and closing like a fish, and eyes darting around, even if you don’t see it. His gaze falls onto his sleeping dog, and he sinks his teeth into his lip.

“I just wanted to let you know, I finally got Titan to do that trick. You know-“

“Wow. Thanks for letting me know,” you say sarcastically. “Are we done here?”

“Yeah,” he says, gnawing at the tip of his thumb. “Yeah. Sorry to bug you. I just… thought you’d like to know.”

But neither of you make a move to hang up. He was positive you would immediately, sick of his voice and his attitude, but you don’t. Maybe you needed this as much as he does.

“No,” he finally croaks. “No okay? I’m not done. I fucking miss you.”

“Sukuna, stop-“

“No, you stop,” he snaps, voice tight with emotion. “Because if this is the last time we talk, you’re going to listen to me and you’re going to listen good.”

You go silent. He hears you breathing, and you don’t make any noise to indicate you’re going to hang up. He lets you sit there, pondering, he wants to leave the ball in your court, even if ending the call is his worst nightmare right now.

“Speak.”

He shudders at the coldness in your voice, he rolls his shoulders and slumps back.

“You… are all that I think about,” he says firmly. “You and I, we are golden. I can’t imagine my life with someone else, I fucking hate to, there’s no one for me but you, and the fucking fact that I have to wake up to a cold bed because of something I did, is something I hate.

“I miss you. I miss you so fucking much, I miss your voice and your laugh and your eyes. I miss your cold hands sneaking under my shirt, and I miss the way you fit against me when we cuddled. I miss you so fucking much, I hate this, I hate it so fucking much, and if I could fix it I would, I want to, please let me fix it-“

“You can’t.”

You shut him up.

“There is no fixing it, sukuna. You broke that trust, shattered it. You think I don’t miss you? You’re crazy.”

He calls your bluff, “you’re full of it. You want to get back together so bad it makes you sick. I know it does, I know you.”

“And how exactly have you come to that conclusion?” You scoff.

“Because you picked up the phone.”

You’re silent at that. He sinks his teeth into his lip, “you’d never answer the phone on someone you want out of your life. You’ve ignored people for less, you don’t fool me for one second.”

You’re still silent. He hears you breathing, as if waiting for him to keep going, read you like a book and prove you wrong.

He rests his head on the wall and shakily calls out your name, letting the vowels feel foreign on his tongue from lack of use. Pet names became so popular, his mouth almost forgot how to say your name. “I can fix this, if you’ll let me. I fucked up. But I know I can fix this.”

“You can’t fix shit,” you scoff. “You would’ve never let it get so bad in the first place if you cared.”

“I couldn’t fix what had already been destroyed,” he snaps. “But we know where we went wrong. We knew what went right. We can do this, do not send me away.”

There’s hesitation on your end. He feels it, he feels your reserve crumbling as he speaks.

“Please… don’t send me away,” he whispers.

You sigh. He sucks in a breath in preparation.

“I miss Titan,” you confess. “If we’re going to talk, we’re doing it at your place, so I can see your dog.”

He smirks.

“And I make no promises,” you hiss. “You don’t get the satisfaction of thinking we’re automatically getting back together because I don’t want to do this over the phone. We’re not. Not yet. Not now. But this isn’t a conversation to not do face to face.”

He closes his eyes and lets his body relax.

“It’s a date.”

“Don’t call it a date.”

[himbosandhardwear]

Things Steve knows about Eddie Munson:

1. You cannot indulge him when he's in Renaissance Mode but ignoring it is actually worse. Give him a bow or an imaginary hat tip and he'll be satisfied.

2. He loves to pretend to have a bug in his hand to scare the girls but if he actually sees a spider he will make a noise only dogs can hear.

3. Insists Heavy Metal is the only genre worth listening to and yet knows every word to Queen, Bowie, and ABBA respectively.

4. Will stop whatever he's doing to pet a stray animal, even if the thing he's doing is driving.

5. Consistently leaves DnD notes lying around where anyone could happen by and read 'Mr Edward Harrington' scribbled in the margins. With little black hearts.

6. Does not understand when someone is flirting with him. Has fallen for the 'I'm not sure how Shotgunning works' gag six times with zero results.

7. Doesn't like fish sticks.

[gloomwitchwrites]

I would love to read an imagine of TF141 and what they’d do together with the reader on vacation and you can choose any destination of your choice! Hot topical to glaciers!

Thank you!

I could have gone spicy with this. The fact that I didn't is a testament to my self-control. While there is a little heat, most of this is just straight up fluff. It's all cuteness. Good feelings only. Pure comfort. Enjoy!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, fluff, flirting, kissing, mild suggestive themes, brief mention of alcohol

Word Count: 1k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

The stars above you are white against the dark sky. The crisp, cool Pacific Northwest air sends a slight chill across your skin. A shiver passes over you, and you snuggle closer to John, seeking his warmth. He sighs contentedly, arm tightening as you press into his side. The swimming dock rocks softly, lulling you toward sleep.

It’s quiet out on the lake. No lights. No noise. It’s nice to get away from everything—to spend time with your husband that doesn’t involve home.

“I’m happy we came, John,” you sigh.

“You like the cabin?”

You nod. “It’s peaceful.”

John's lips lightly press against your temple. "I'm happy you joined me."

Whenever John leaves for a trip to the cabin, it’s almost always a hunting or fishing trip with his team. Even they need to cool off after a mission. But John didn’t ask them to come. He brought you to his favorite place.

His fingers lightly curve under your chin, tilting your head upward. Closing the distance, John greets you with a kiss that melts you down to your toes.

He smiles softly. “Up for a little swim?”

You laugh. “It’s a bit chilly. And it’s dark!”

John grins and then pushes up to his feet, removing his clothes until he’s down to absolutely nothing. His pale butt is on full display in the moonlight.

"John!" you protest, but he’s already diving in.

You sit up, startled, watching the rippling dark water. A beat, and then he resurfaces. “Join me.”

With heat rising in your cheeks, you follow his lead. You do not dive as gracefully.

As you resurface, treading water, John cozies up to your, reaching for you beneath the surface. Your legs wrap around his middle, the two of you silently floating under the stars. The water is cold but you hardly care. John is warm, and so are his kisses.

They are cute at first, little peaks that become deeper, making your core clench with anticipation. The chilly water is a distant thing in your mind. All you know is John, and this moment, and all the days you have ahead with him.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It’s hot in Miami. The beach is packed.

But Kyle is uncaring of the crowd, too busy with the remote-control toy excavator you bought him just for this beach trip.

“How’s the digging?” you ask, flipping a page in your book. You lounge under an oversized umbrella.

Kyle moves the joystick with his thumb. The yellow toy excavator picks up a chunk of sand and dumps it to the side. “I’m going to have the biggest hole on the beach.”

You nod, and lightly pat his shoulder, returning to your book.

There are a few minutes of silence between you before Kyle puts the remote control down and turns to look at you.

“What?” you prompt as Kyle continues to stare.

“I’m bored. Wanna go play mermaids in the ocean?”

Inserting the bookmark, you close your book and set it aside. “Absolutely I do.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“I’ve never done this before, Johnny.”

“I know, love. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Johnny holds your hands in his. "Being scared is nothing to be ashamed of."

Before you is a mountainous slope covered in snow. Plenty of people are already on it, descending to the bottom on skis and snowboards. Some are lightning fast with others meander slowly. It looks fun—really, it does—but this is completely new to you.

When Johnny said vacation in the Alps, you didn’t think this. You were imagining a fancy cabin with nice food, a hot tub in the snow, and steamy sex next to a roaring fire.

“I’ll hold on to you. The whole way down. We’ll do this together.”

“You won’t let me fall?”

Johnny’s gloved hands squeeze yours in reassurance. “It’s just the bunny hill.”

“For children. I’m not a child.” "Oh, aye. It's for wee ones. But also, for newbies. Besides, I'll be with ya." He winks. "Won't let anything happen."

"That is not reassuring," you mutter, the snowboard wobbling slightly under your feet.

Johnny is the only thing keeping you upright. He grips you tightly, completely at ease in the snow.

“Do you promise?” you ask.

Johnny releases one of your hands to move his goggles into place. He lightly taps his helmet against yours.

“Promise.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Her sisters are in Greece."

"You Brits like to steal everything."

Simon chuckles. "Throw a rock in here and you'd hit something that came from somewhere else."

He steps away from the statue, turning to move on to another. You follow him, trying to see what he sees.

“I wouldn’t take you for the museum type.”

"Why?" asks Simon, arching an eyebrow.

You gesture at him, and Simon snorts. “Fair point,” he replies, glancing down at himself. He looks more ready to jump on the back of a sportbike rather than tour a museum.

Simon moves on to a new statue, head titled slightly as he peers up at it. “I like museums. They’re calm. Quiet. I can take my time. No one needs me. No one expects anything from me.”

He says it so casually, but you hear the underlying sigh. There is something heavy beneath it. A weight he carries but you can’t identify what it may be.

“I can be here for hours,” he murmurs.

“So…no pub crawls?”

Simon attempts to stifle a laugh. “Love a good pub crawl. Johnny and I go on them all the time. He always thinks he can out drink me.”

“Does he?”

“Never,” grins Simon.

He holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers. You slide your hand into his, the warmth of him chasing away your worry.

Simon pulls you in close, two of you leaving the statues behind.

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[steinbit]

remember what’s really truly important in life : local library

[mediumgayitalian]

"It reminded me of you."

Will looks into his cupped hands. He purses his lips. He opens his mouth. He closes it. He opens it again.

"This is, uh." He clears his throat. "It, being this fish skeleton?"

Nico nods. "Yes."

Will waits for an explanation. With none forthcoming, he looks up, intent on asking for it directly, but his tongue does completely numb in his mouth, jaw softly unlocking. From the late afternoon sun behind him golden rays shine directly into pools of what has become spun copper and amber brown; spools of shining wire surrounded by shining white. It takes him time uncountable to register the wide, round soporifics in front of him are in fact Nico's eyes, cradled in the light, watching him.

"What," Will tries, mouth dry, "uh, what? Why. I mean." He holds up his hands. They're shaking. "Fish?"

"That's you," says Nico, crowding into Will's space. Will makes a noise that can be registered only by bats, dolphins, and bush crickets.

Nico's callused hands encircle Will's wrist and his soul ascends, exiting from his body, floating away gayly away until Will snags it by the ankle and yanks it back to his mortal body. Dad, if you can hear me, I cannot stress how much you owe me and how badly I am calling in that favor. SOS. SOS. SOS. SO --

"It's small, see. Delicate."

"I'm -- six two?"

"Yeah, physically." Nico pokes at the tiny little spine. "But you're, like." He makes a squishing motion with his hand. "Crushable, you know? You just go around feeling your feelings at full force. All over the place. Delicate."

Will is pretty sure he's ghasting. Is that what it's called? Flabbering one's ghast? When you just -- kind of stand there, slack jawed, wheezing like a doofus? Maybe he is a fish. "Nico, I've got --" He makes a swooping gesture in front of his nose, trying and visibly failing at indicating a plague mask. "You know? I could poison you."

"Yeah, that's why I picked one that died from whirling disease."

"How...thoughtful?"

"Thanks."

Nico returns to the fish skeleton. He points out the eye sockets. "See here? The fish had shallow orbits so it probably had big eyes like you."

"I have big eyes?"

"Duh. You are ninety percent eye. Everyone looks at you and it's like bam. Blue. All you can see."

Will begs the red to recede from his cheeks. He can hear the echo of his father's cackling, all the way from his stupid dork ass nerd ass lame tryhard chariot, and the red continues to rise.

"You -- like my eyes?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"Hey, look here. You can see its -- are you looking? -- you can see its heart cavity. Cool, right? Your heart is going really fast."

A high-pitched noise comes out of Will's throat, sourced from somewhere in his kneecaps, probably. They're wobbling enough.

"Yeah, I -- uh, best believe I noticed."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm vibing. Chilling, even. One could even say I'm maxing, relaxing, acting all cool. If there was a basketball net outside of a school I would be totally shooting right now."

"You're acting weird," Nico accuses.

Will laughs out loud. No, like, really laughs, it comes out of his stomach and then his knees give out and he barely manages to catch himself, hunching over, veins hot rod boiling and stomach writhing and face the color of a gently polished tomato. He may have passed.

"Oh, my gods, something kill me."

"Whatever, weirdo. Come back over, I want to show you why the rib cage is representative of your repression issues."

"Okay."

[shoumachisblog]

LOCO

Male Reader x Shin Ryujin

Tags: Blowjob, Deepthroat, Ryujin getting facefucked real hard, Ryujin is down bad horrendously, Cock Worship

First time doing this. Hope you guys like it :D

“I want you to fuck me for the whole night."

was the first thing that came out from Ryujin's mouth as soon as she got inside your house. Well, considering how busy she gets these days, it is understandable for her to say something like that the moment she meets you, who happens to be the manager of ITZY. Surprisingly, no one seems to know the secret relationship between you and Ryujin. The whole world knows that both Ryujin and Chaeryeong are a couple but they didn't know that Ryujin's crave for dick is much bigger than any woman or gay in this world.

But here she is.

Inside your house.

On her knees.

Between your legs.

“Aaaaaahnnn....." Ryujin let out a moan of affirmation as she was able to fish out your cock out quite easily, which caused your arousal beginning to stir to life. Ryujin takes a long and loud sniff on your cock and you are damn sure that Ryujin loves the smell of your cock that made her shudder.

“You're such a slut for my cock, you know that right?" You sensed another spike in Ryujin's arousal and desire, as she begins to give the underside of your cock a long yet wet lick with her tongue. “You like being called slut, don't you?" You asked, receiving another moan of affirmation and that resulted in her face completely pressed into your cock - to be specific her forehead and nose literally press into the base of your cock with both of your hands at the back of her head.

Ryujin's eyes went backwards and let out yet another moan of affirmation that vibrated your already hardened cock as her mouth acts like a vacuum, sucking literally everything on your cock. You let yourself enjoy the tightness of her throat for a few more seconds before letting her go and it's safe to say that Ryujin didn't die from the sudden attack.

Ryujin slowly pulls her head back before making a pop noise when the head of your cock gets out from her warm and tight throat.

“Your cock tastes amazing... I just can't stop thinking about it... Fuck...." Ryujin is completely lost in her own arousal and desire now that she can't even find the words to speak what she had inside her mind. She lowers her head and starts licking your balls as if they were lollipops, moving her tongue slowly from side to side, savouring the musky taste around your nutsack. “I wish Chaeryeong could see what I'm seeing right now. Does she know that her so-called handsome girlfriend is obsessed with cock?"

Ryujin doesn't respond, completely controlled by her own lust and desire as she slowly kisses her way up along the length of your cock while muttering, “I love your cock" “cock is the best" “this cock is mine" She can't stop kissing it until she makes eye contact with you. You're not an optician, but you know what her eyes were saying.

Ryujin's mouth opened widely immediately and both of your hands were already at the back of her head, ready to land an impact inside the warm cavern that was waiting for you.

With a small amount of force, you shoves yourself fully into Ryujin's mouth. She can feel the tip of your cock at the back of her throat, cutting off air and she was grunting and gagging when her face completely smashed against your pelvis. “Fuck! That's it! Take it all, you damn slut!" You growled in arousal as thick rivulets of drool started oozing from the corners of her mouth and Ryujin didn't show any attempt to pull her face away, even placing her hands on any parts of your body. A bubble of snot even burst out from her right nostrils, and to make it even more nasty, the makeup that she had on her face for her schedule today was trailing down her cheeks as her eyes began to water. You keep her head pushed down just long enough for her to begin to swim from lack of oxygen before finally pulling her head away from your cock. Ryujin gasps for air and looks up at you, tears running down her face and your glistening cock is still connected to her mouth by heavy strings of saliva.

After a long moment of so-called freedom, you shoves your entire cock back into her mouth, starting to move your hips against her mouth, pumping your cock through her warm, tight, and wet throat. Another bubble of snot comes out from the same nostril, and a smaller one comes from the other. Her eyes bulge a little and she can feel you throbbing inside her throat, with dropping eyelids, she tries to lick the underside of your cock with her tongue, enjoying the texture and the sensations of your veins. “Suck it, you little bitch!" You growled aggressively, ploughing Ryujin's mouth relentlessly, hammering it to the hilt with every thrust and her mouth keeps salivating, covering her chin and dripping down your balls.

You looked down and good lord, Ryujin looks so fucking addicted with your cock right now. You don't know if she is even conscious right now but her expression makes you grinning with arousal and desire, increasing both your pace and the level of force, you aren't going anywhere as hard as you could but you are getting close to going as hard as you could without hurting Ryujin.

She's losing air, and Ryujin doesn't seem to have the desire to stop you at all. Her lungs are already burning again but she doesn't want this stop until you coat her throat with your first load of the night.

You kept slamming her face against your crotch. Ryujin can feel your trembling fingers against her skull, telling her that you're pretty darn close to your climax. “Fuck! I love fucking your throat so much!" You moan and Ryujin feels your cock twitch inside her throat just before you pull her head slightly backwards and push it down onto your crotch as hard as possible before spilling yourself down her throat. Your movements become jerky, you were groaning and hissing through clenched teeth, and your hands and legs clamped around her head to keep her still. “Drink it! Ryujin! All of it, your dirty slut!" and Ryujin didn't waste a single drop, listening to you moan as you uses her throat to milk yourself of every last drop.

Once you are done, you held Ryujin there for a while longer while still panting. After a moment, Ryujin most of your cock out of her mouth, leaving only the tip in her mouth. Ryujin gasped for air, cheeks red with a bright blush as she looked up at you, licking her lips and rolling her tongue around your cock in the process.

“How about a few more rounds with that warm and tight throat of yours before I fill that needy pussy of yours huh?" You say and she blinks a few times, trying to understand if she really heard what you were just saying.

“YES, MASTER...."

[keferon]

I think Orion Pax should traumatize the kids by dying, or at least seemingly dying, at some point in the apocalyptic ponyo AU. Because he's Optimus Prime and sacrificing oneself to save others is the most Optimus Prime thing to do.

I imagine it'd happen after he reunited with his kiddos and met their new fish dad, and life isn't exactly good because, well, *gestures at the surrounding apocalypse*, but at least they're together and safer than if they were alone. And then one day while they're resting under some building that *looked* solid enough, some rubble begins falling on them. So Orion makes them run away as fast as their little legs can, and then when there's no time anymore he just jumps on the last one to at least take the hit in the kid's place.

The dust finally settles behind the group and Soundwave reflexively does a headcount only to realize that they're missing two people, which he notices just a fraction of a second faster than Shockwave, who got woken up by the sudden noise. So they go back. They hear the quivering "Mister Pax...?" before they can even see the mass of dusty clothes and limbs. The last kid is there, scared but safe, stuck beneath Orion's limp, broken and bloody body.

Of course Orion isn't hurt *too* badly, it probably looks worse than it is, but that's still one more nightmare for everyone. Unless he *is* hurt badly, and that's how the group meets a medic 👀 Either way, this is the last time Shockwave lets his humans enter a building without thoroughly checking its stability. He'd rather keep them all safe himself. And if he's fussing over Orion even more than before, well, Orion isn't going to complain.

ALRIGHT ALRIGHT OKAY I SEE THE VISION

But also what if we make it their first interaction? CONSIDER. Orion suddenly finds a bunch of those kids and saves them from that collapsing building right? But gets stuck under the rubble because Blue wasn’t fast enough so Orion basically becomes his alive shield.

And that would very much be the end for him because all those concrete walls and roof are fucking HEAVY but little did he know. Kids got adopted by a giant fish while he wasn’t there haha

So Shockwave saves both Orion and Blue and then Orion has this absolutely hilarious moment of realisation when he wakes up’,:)

[blaqcats-fics]

unfortunately, i usually don't keep track of birthdays specifically in fandoms. so, imagine my shock when i found out that i share a birthday with bruce wayne (feb 19) — based on silverage and modern-age Batman. it is also a shock that i also just found out this man is a pisces. so in honor of both of our birthdays, here’s just a fun little skit!!

It starts with a podcast.

Tim’s the one who’s listening to it, earbuds in, looking for background noise while he codes. He barely registers the conversation until he hears the words:

“You know who gives me serious Pisces energy? Batman.”

Tim blinks. Rewinds. Listens again.

“I mean, think about it. Secretive? Brooding? Carries the weight of the world on his shoulders but refuses to talk about his feelings? Classic water sign behavior. Probably cries in the Batmobile.”

Tim immediately forwards the clip to the family group chat.

Steph is the first to react.

Steph: HOLY SHIT WAIT IS BRUCE A PISCES??

Damian: Don’t be ridiculous.

Steph: NO. THIS MAKES SENSE.

Steph: Moody. Overdramatic. Keeps adopting kids for no reason other than his feelings?? Classic Pisces.

Dick: If Bruce is a Pisces, that would explain SO MUCH.

Damian: This is stupid. He doesn’t even believe in astrology.

Steph: Because he’s a Pisces and doesn’t want to be perceived.

Dick: Wait when is his birthday again??

Tim double-checks. Then he stares at the date.

Tim: …Feburary 19th.

Silence.

Then:

Steph: OH MY GOD.

Dick: OH MY GOD.

Damian: This means nothing.

Jason: No. No. It means EVERYTHING.

—

When Jason jumps on board, things escalate.

Because Jason starts compiling evidence.

“Think about it,” he tells Dick later that night. “He’s moody as hell. He broods. He internalizes everything. He loves tragedy. I bet you anything he listens to sad music while doing patrol.”

Dick, who has personally witnessed Bruce listen to Chopin while looking out over Gotham like he’s in a Victorian novel, has no counterargument.

—

Alfred’s reaction is the worst.

“Master Bruce is, indeed, a Pisces,” he says when asked. “It explains quite a bit, I’ve always thought.”

Bruce is right there.

He looks up from his paperwork, eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t explain anything.”

“Of course, sir.” Alfred’s voice is as dry as the Batcave itself. “It is mere coincidence that you have the emotional repression of a particularly stubborn fish.”

—

Now that they know, they start noticing everything.

“He’s so sentimental,” Steph says, watching Bruce silently look at the Bat-Signal with his arms crossed. “Like. Deeply sentimental. I bet he has an old love letter tucked away somewhere that he rereads when he’s feeling tragic.”

Jason hums. “He does keep Selina’s notes.”

Tim gasps.

“Oh my god,” Dick whispers. “He’s the most Pisces to ever Pisces.”

—

The final straw is when Cass catches Bruce watching a French noir film in the dark with a glass of scotch.

She takes a picture.

It’s sent to the group chat immediately.

Cass: Look at this. Look at him.

Tim: That is the most Pisces shit I’ve ever seen.

Jason: He’s mourning a past life rn.

Steph: He’s thinking about his tragic love affairs. Probably wishing he could save them.

Dick: He’s gonna write poetry about it later.

Damian: All of you need to be stopped.

—

Eventually, Bruce notices.

Because of course he does.

“What,” he says, standing in the middle of the Batcave, staring at them like they’ve personally betrayed him, “is happening?”

Nobody speaks.

Then Damian, who has had enough, scowls and says, “They have been discussing your astrological sign.”

Bruce blinks.

“They are also keeping a list of your most Pisces-like behaviors.”

Jason immediately hurls a smoke bomb to escape.

It doesn’t end there.

—

A week later, Clark drops by.

“I heard you were a Pisces,” he says, grinning.

Bruce throws a batarang at him.

[shroomyv]

ᢉ𐭩-MARK BEING A (CUTE) BOTHER

Pairing: mark grayson x f!reader

Synopsis: mark being a little shit while you’re trying to actually get productive work done.

Warning: probably a tad bit cheesy but who cares

A/N: omg I’m finally writing a story where mark isn’t fucking/getting his brains fucked out say wahhhhhhh. Anyway, just a lil domestic/fluffy lil story while I work on some bigger ones. Nobody can convince me that mark wouldn’t be cute annoying, NOBODYYYY 😞…(I loaf him sm…)

“Shew shew-“ you grumble as Mark keeps smashing his face against yours while you’re busy working. Your fingers clack away at the keyboard trying to get done as quickly as possible he just bothers you.

“How does this have anything to do with all your telekinesis crap or something,” Mark asked in an annoyed tone continuing to bother you—he wanted to have fun with you while he was free but for once you were the one busy. He was kind of getting a taste of his own medicine.

“Because it just does, now go before I kick your ass.” Powers or not, you still had to do paperwork like anybody else suffering on earth. You said before pushing his face away. That had him intrigued now. How did you even plan to kick his ass, he knew you were just talking shit but now he wanted to see it. So, he kept bothering you.

Whether it was poking at your face, leaping in front of your computer, or making annoying noises in your ear. He saw your eyebrow twitching more and more as you were losing patience. He wanted you to try and fight em. So he kept going.

You finally sprung up—you had had enough of his shit.

“One last chance, go away, Mark” you said squinting your eyes at him trying to seem as serious as you could.

“Not a chance, babe.” He said with a smug grin on his face holding out his arms. He was basically mocking you—wanting you to “do your worst”

You had leaped onto him like a damn cat knocking both of you on the floor as the tussle began. Now, the hard part began—you actually had to kick his ass…

A smirk flew across his face. He knew you had given in—as you began to roll around on the ground with him and tussle now. You two were like a log going back and forth. One second—you were on top of him. The next second—he was on top of you.

“Cmon babe…you’re really gonna kick my ass?” Mark said with a soft smile trying to get you to fold just from his face. You were on top of him in the moment holding him by his shirt collar as you had paused for a second. You honestly wanted to lean in and give him a little smooch but you had to keep your word and kick his little smug ass. Sadly, that wasn’t working out that well (never was going to) so you had to resort to empty threats.

“Mark! I will literally never ever ever kiss you again if you don’t give up like right now!” You threaten as he doesn’t believe it for a single second. He picked you up tossing you on the bed before leaping right back on top of you. He held you tight this time trying to make sure you didn’t move or win as you squirmed like a fish out of water

He was pecking kisses at your face every few seconds. He wasn’t letting up one bit. You loved how sappy he was, like a little puppy. You honestly almost lost for a second, stopping to stare at him. His brown eyes were like a trap for your heart. However, you had stopped for him wayyy too many times before—if you didn’t finish this paperwork now, it wouldn’t only be overdo (once again) but it’d just pile up again. You had to be a person of your word and kick his ass. He was probably gonna let you win anyway.

“MARK!” “Nuh-uh,” you two were back and forth about who was in charge. You sighed using your powers to your advantage just as he was, you were forcing his body to stay on the bed while you finished working. Mark knew he could’ve fought back or pulled through, but he let you have this little win.

“Lemme up-“ mark asked trying his best to annoy you so you’d give in

“No” you weren’t buying his shit for a second not letting up one bit

“Lemme up-“ mark continued the cycle the entire time you worked…he was trying his hardest to be insufferable

You two were just back and forth the entire time you finished your paperwork. Eventually, you were finished freeing him from the hold your powers had on him at the moment. You stood in front of him with crossed arms. “Kicked your ass and finished my paperwork.”

He just rolled his eyes before leaping on you again as the cycle of endless tussling began right back up again. He had let you win the first time since he didn’t even attempt to fight back against your powers. But this time…he’d redeem himself and win. You let him do exactly that—melting into his kisses like butter. He held you tight against his chest as if he never wanted to let go. You’d be a little asshole just like he was earlier.

“Lemme go,” you asked sarcastically

“Nope,” Mark said with absolute seriousness in his voice

“Lemme-“

“Nope”

The back and forth began once again.

Silence filled the room are you two were absolutely content with each other. You were in his hold and he had you held near and dear. It then hit you in the face that Mark mentioned something about the correlation of powers and paperwork. How he said “the two had nothing to do with each other so why’d you have to do paperwork for it 🤓”

“Mark…” you said softly waiting for his response

“Yes babe?” He was all ears for what you had to say to him.

“Have you been doing the paperwork that Cecil has been giving us—or should I say you?”

Silence filled the air…he wasn’t doing any paper work what so ever…

“Get your ass up and do that paperwork…” you said gently but your face was honestly so stern it had him tense up for a second

“Yes ma’am” he said as he placed a kiss on your head before moving over to the desk to begin his paperwork. He had a shitload to get started on and you’d make sure he finished every little bit before you two had fun again.

He was stubborn and so were you—a match made in (hell) heaven.

a/n: (ik for a fact he would duck and dodge every bit of paperwork he’d have to do…😭)

[cvnt4him]

Panty sniffer izu

He stole your underwear one time while he was left alone in your room while you were showering, your dirty clothes hamper was in your room and he seen some pretty laced panties sticking out, he knew it was wrong he knew she shouldnt have did it. What made thing worse is after he took them he left while you were in the shower, not bothering to text or even tell you just immediately leaving.

The second he was alone in his apartment he was quick to lock the door, scolding himself in his head as he rushed to his bedroom closing the door as if anyone else were there with him, shutting the blinds as if he'd just committed a heinous crime.

His breath quivering as he fished your underwear, dirty at that, from his pants pocket. Sighing shakily as he just stared at them. So pretty and frilly. This is the kind of underwear you wear. It's so cute. And fitting for you. God you were just so cute. How could he not have done this? You invited him over with your dirty clothes out like that!, your panties just begging to be seen by him!!!!! This is your fault....

He convinced himself that nothing he was going to do was his fault...nothing at all was his fault.. as he brought the cloth up to his nose he inhaled the scent deeply eyes rolling and a deep groan leaving his body. A boner instantly popping up and begging to be attended to.

He does this a couple of times inhaling your scent. Head getting dizzy from the excessive breathing, he held your panties up to his nose with one hand letting the other slowly trail down to his cock harshly palming himself and thrusting his hips into his palm.

Choking on your scent as he lets his mind go completely blank. All regret and guilt he had being long gone. He laid back trying to hurriedly into his belt and unzip his pants, the refining clothes giving him a hard time. With a frustrated and annoyed groan he quickly gets his pants out of the way which unfortunately he had to temporarily part with your scent to remove them. He looked down at his cock completely soaking his boxers with his sticky pre.. he sighed heavily before grabbing your panties once more and drowning in your smell

He lets his hips buck into nothing for a while getting high off of your smell before he finally touched himself. He soon pulled his boxers down just enough to get his cock free, his needy cock spewing more squirts of precum. With no time wasted he wrapped his scarred and calloused left hand around his cock jerking it fastly.

Within an instant noises started leaving him, groans and moans of all sorts. His cock had started making such filthy noises making his hand get all wet and sticky from his excessive amount of precum that just kept leaking from his cock. It was a problem..

The squelching and squeaking of his cock went straight to his head, the lewd noises clouding his mind along with your smell. His brows had furrowed and sweat began beading at his forehead, arm seeming to not get tired at the pace of him jerking off

He was getting lightheaded and couldn't help arching his back, his thumb experimentally swiping the tip of his cock making him moan aloud. His hips starting bucking up at the same time with his hand tears starting to well in his squeezed shut eyes.

Izuku hated the noises he would make. They were so feminine and so lewd, it made him feel odd. Not stopping his movements he shoved your panties inside of his mouth letting all of your flavours invade his tongue, he began sucking on them harshly and swallowing your flavour. He groaned behind the panties, hardly even muffling his sounds.

With the free hand he began twisting his balls as if he'd done this before, the added pleasure having his whole body spasming, strings of hair sticking to his damo forehead as his eyes fluttered open beginning to cross at the mind numbing pleasure. He was so close, and sure he could've cum with just that but he wanted to feel more. He wanted to feel overstimulated.

Soon then thoughts of you began taking over his mind. Wondering what you'd say if you seen him like this, fucking himself like some gooner who can't keep it in his pants, your panties in his mouth to try and sustain his noises but we all knew that was just a cover up for the fact he wanted to taste you, imagine what it'd be like to eat you out because your smell was no longer enough. He just had to go the extra mile of disgustingity.

You'd probably call him a disgusting slut.... yeah, and- and you'd probably run it in his face too! Let him know just how awful and how much of a filthy pig he is...

Tears began flowing down his freckled cheeks whines and even more moans leaving him like he was being bent over and fucked. God he felt like such a disgusting human being. But he needed this, and it was still your fault!!!

“p...please....!~”

His speech being muffled by the cloth in his mouth completely wet with his spit, drool starting to leak at the corner of his lips dripping down his chin and onto his neck. He felt so filthy, cheeks sticky from the tears. Goodness....

He used his hand to fiddle with his nipple, it was embarrassing how fast he'd cum the second stimulation was brought to his nipples. They were just standing at attention through his shirt, and with how much his body was spasming they had ended up brushing against the rough fabric of his shirt causing them to pulsate. He was just experimenting.

He pinched and swirled his nipples through his fingers cumming immediately. His white cum spurting out of his cock, many ropes squirting and painting his shirt and making a mess all over his hand, some even getting in his face, there was so much it almost got into his eye..!

As he caught his breath he let his tensing body fall flat onto the bed, heavy breaths leaving him not just through his nose but they tried to leave through his mouth as well, one of his eyes shut due to the cum lying on his face dripping off the side of his cheek and some off of his chin. He sighed heavily so many thoughts rushing to his head he truly was disgusting. Lying in his own filth, painted in his cum. Ugh.

He whined once more brows furrowing again, a whole new and even stronger wave of guilt regret and embarrassment hitting him, even harder this time. Your panties were still in his mouth and his arms were sprayed out on either side of his body like he was in a T position, his thighs wide open and cock still jolting against his thigh, cum leaking from it as it softened quickly.

He stared into nothingness before he decided he had to clean himself up....it was getting sad. He grabbed one of his shirts that was on his room floor and wiped his face and hands, he pulled his soiled boxers over his cum covered cock and last but not least took your spit filled panties out of his mouth, strings of his saliva connecting to them and his lips, his jaw hurt a bit.

As he smacked his dried yet spit covered lips a bit he looked at your panties, darkened with the wetness of his spit and now laced with his breath. He stared at the and cringed intensely. How could he have done something so vile. Sure it's not like he committed murder or anything but-, he'd stolen your underwear instead of asking you out on a date like a normal person...

He was disappointed in himself. With a disgusted look on his face he threw your panties in his own dirty clothes basket and decided hed return them washed, of course not letting you know he even took them to begin with-!!

With another sigh laced with disgust in himself he fished his phone out of his pants pocket, her gotten a couple of calls— IT WAS NIGHT?! how long had he been gooning to you like you were some type of furry porn her found in twitter then ended up going down a rabbit hole to reddit and then in various of different furry porn dedicated websites?!

Not that that's happened before.... But I wouldn't put it past him honestly...he's pretty gross and doesn't really discriminate when he's horny.

Lust truly is a demon.

He had some messages from you, 17 to be specific. All of you questioning why he'd left without telling you and if he was mad at you. In the end you were the one angry with him and your last message simple read "fuck you." Izuku knew how angry you could get, he felt even worse now. He'd have to try incredibly hard to get back inside of your good graces.

He checked his missed calls and he had two from you, one from katsuki and one from his mom. He didn't really feel like talking to anyone given he'd probably just ruined his chances with you with what he'd done. As bad as he felt, it wasn't as bad as his sudden craving to eat.

He threw his phone and smacked his lips a couple of times before deciding he was going to eat and go to sleep hoping tomorrow you'd be down to meet with him so he can apologize and come up with some type of excuse.

POV disgusting little pig decides to eat and knock out like some rabbit after he lusts after himself performing in a dismay of "gooning"