#like i think i have a need to just uh.... figure shit out

[izzy120]

Cute but dangerous

First chapter, the meeting

Pairing: Melissa scemmenti x fem y/n

Summary: you just came from your old school to Abbott Elementary to be Melissa’s co-teacher. But she has been being a total bitch for not even half the day to y/n making her angry. So y/n may or may not have pepper sprayed Melissa in the eyes!

Warnings: cussing, more than usual mean Melissa, I think that’s it, tell me if I missed something!

Italian sayings in English

I’m going to kill that kid: “Sto per uccidere quel bambino���

Idiot: Idiota

Kid: Bimbo

Fucking piece of shit: Cazzo di pezzo di merda

Y/n isn’t quite sure how she ended up here. One moment, she was talking to the principal of her old school, and the next, she’s somehow in the halls of Abbott Elementary. Apparently, one of the teachers needed a teaching assistant—or as some like to call it, a “co-teacher.” But let’s be real, that title felt like a stretch. With a resigned sigh, Y/n adjusted the strap of her small bag, which held all the “essentials”: chapstick, makeup wipes, extra shirts (for inevitable kid-related messes), pepper spray, and a pocket knife. You know, the basics.

Pushing through the school doors, she approached the front desk with a polite smile and a flicker of nervousness in her eyes. “Hi, my name’s Y/n, N/y/n. I’m here to see Principal uh, Ava…I think that’s her name?” Y/n giggled awkwardly, already feeling out of place. Forgetting the principal’s name on day one? Great fucking start. She glanced at the two women behind the desk, who were now staring at her like she’d sprouted a second head.

The silence made Y/n shift uncomfortably, her nerves creeping higher. “Did I say something wrong?” she asked, glancing between them. One of the women, dressed head to toe in maroon—a cardigan over a floral blouse, matching slacks, and perfectly styled hair—looked like she could be Y/n’s mom. Well, if her mom exuded the perfect balance of warmth and authority. The second woman, though… oh boy. Strict, sharp, and undeniably intimidating. Y/n felt her cheeks heat up. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“Dear,�� the maroon-clad woman said with a motherly smile, snapping Y/n out of her spiral. “I’m guessing you’re the new co-teacher?”

Y/n blinked a few times before nodding quickly. “Yes, ma’am! That’s me!” She accepted the woman’s outstretched hand, shaking it politely.

“I’m Barbara Howard,” the woman introduced herself warmly. “I’m the kindergarten teacher here. And this,” she said, motioning to her work wife, “is Meli—”

“Ms. Schemmenti,” the second woman cut in, crossing her arms and giving Y/n a once-over with a sharp glare.

Barbara sighed and placed a calming hand on her work wife’s shoulder. “Her name is Melissa, dear.”

Y/n nodded, trying not to let the intensity of Melissa’s stare rattle her. “Oh! Wait—are you the person I’m co-teaching with? I got an email about who I’d be assisting, and I think it mentioned you…”

Melissa scoffed and looked away. “Yeah, that’s me. Ava stuck me with two classes this year, so she figured I’d need a little help managing the little eagles.”

Y/n’s face lit up at the nickname. “That’s adorable! Do you give each second-grade class a nickname every year?”

Melissa rolled her eyes. “No, Idiota….Now, come on, let’s get moving, Maddie.”

“That’s not my name… it’s Y/n!” Y/n called after her, rushing to keep up.

Melissa groaned, clearly unimpressed. “If you last more than a month, maybe I’ll remember your name. Until then, Rick.”

Y/n gasped, trailing after her. “That’s not even close! That’s a guy’s name!”

Inside Melissa’s classroom, Y/n was hunched over, panting heavily as she tried to catch her breath. “Wow…hah…you’re a…hah…really fast walker!” she wheezed, still recovering. Melissa shot her a half-smirk, half-frown, clearly trying not to laugh. “Maybe don’t be so slow Bimbo,” Melissa replied dryly before heading to her desk to grab some papers.

Y/n’s exhaustion vanished in an instant as she squealed and rushed over to Melissa. “Is this your desk? Do I get a desk? At my old school, I had the cutest little desk, and I absolutely loved it!” she gushed, smiling proudly. Melissa raised an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, you’ve got a desk.” She walked to the back of the classroom, nudged one of the kids’ desks with her foot, and smirked. “Right here. Happy?”

Y/n wrinkled her nose in disapproval. “Well, I was kind of expecting more of a—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, kid,” Melissa interrupted, walking up to Y/n and pressing a firm finger to her chest. “I’m not your friend. You’ve gotta earn the right to be friendly with me. I won’t remember your name, you’ll call me Ms. Schemmenti, and you’ll sit at that desk with no complaints. This is my classroom, which means my rules. Got it? Capeesh?”

Y/n blinked in shock, a little hurt by the sudden harshness. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it again, unsure of how to respond.

Melissa gave her a quick once-over and added, “Also, you might wanna change before the kids get here. You look like a pink unicorn shit on you.” She turned back to her desk as if the conversation was over.

Y/n glanced at the small desk Melissa had pointed out and dropped her bag onto it with a huff. “I don’t have anything else to wear that isn’t… my style.” She glanced down at her outfit: a light pink, fluffy dress with ruffles on the shoulders and hem, paired with knee-high white socks, pink ballet flats, and a white bag with a gold heart. Sure, it was a lot of pink, but who cared?

Clenching her fists, Y/n huffed. “You know what? I’m not changing.”

Melissa turned back with an arched brow. “What did you just say

Y/n crossed her arms and glared. “I’m not changing! The girls are gonna love this outfit anyway! And you clearly don’t understand fashion styles if you’re judging me for it.”

To drive her point home, Y/n flipped Melissa off. “Fuck you!” she shouted before storming out of the room in a dramatic exit.

Melissa stood there, stunned. But seconds later, Y/n came rushing back in, grabbed her bag with a sheepish look, and bolted out again, leaving Melissa shaking her head in disbelief.

When the second graders finally arrived, Y/n begrudgingly returned to the classroom to help, though she stayed at the back with her arms crossed, clearly sulking. Her glare was locked on Melissa throughout the lesson, earning her the occasional glance from the older woman.

When lunchtime finally rolled around, Y/n eagerly led the kids to the cafeteria and made her way to the teacher’s lounge. She realized too late that she’d forgotten to put her salad in the fridge that morning, thanks to the fight with Melissa. As she opened the door, she spotted Barbara and Melissa already there.

Y/n immediately perked up at the sight of Barbara, grateful for her warmth and kindness—so unlike Melissa, who seemed determined to make her life miserable. Sliding into the seat next to Barbara, Y/n beamed. “Good afternoon, Barbara!”

Barbara smiled warmly. “Good afternoon, Y/n, dear. Have you met the rest of the staff yet?”

Y/n shook her head. “Not really,” she admitted with a small smile.

Barbara chuckled and began pointing out the other teachers. “That’s Janine,” she said, gesturing to a petite woman with a questionable sense of fashion—not that Y/n could judge right now. “And over there are Gregory and Jacob. Oh, and that’s Mr. Johnson. He’s not a teacher; he’s our janitor.”

Barbara continued introducing the rest of the staff as Y/n nodded along, chuckling. “They all seem so nice. Thanks for telling me their names—I would’ve felt so awkward not knowing them.”

Y/n giggled, but her amusement was cut short when Melissa muttered something under her breath. Turning to glare at her, Y/n pouted. “What did you just say?”

Melissa raised an eyebrow, her expression indifferent. “Hmm?”

Y/n scowled and stood up abruptly. “Ugh! You’ve been a total bitch to me since I got here!”

Janine gasped and immediately rushed over, her hands raised nervously. “L-let’s all calm down, please!” she stammered, clearly more anxious than Y/n had been that morning.

Melissa’s glare hardened. “The fuck did you just say to me?”

“I said you’ve been acting like a TOTAL BITCH!” Y/n shot back, her voice rising.

Melissa stood up so fast her chair scraped against the floor. “That’s it!” she snapped, looking like she was about to lunge at Y/n before Barbara quickly intervened, grabbing Melissa by the arm.

“Melissa, do not!” Barbara scolded, forcing her back into her seat. She turned to address Y/n, only to find the younger woman had already stormed out of the lounge.

Barbara sighed heavily and looked back at Melissa, her expression stern. “What have you been doing to that poor girl?”

Melissa scoffed, crossing her arms defensively. “Okay, maybe I’ve been a little bitchy, but why should I be nice? She’s not gonna last a week here anyway!”

Barbara sat down beside her, rubbing the bridge of her nose in frustration. “And she’ll leave even faster if you keep acting like this.”

“Good riddance,” Melissa muttered under her breath, earning a sharp slap on the shoulder from Barbara.

“Apologize to her. Right now.”

Melissa’s arms remained crossed, her glare unwavering. “I’m not fucking doing tha—”

“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti!” Barbara snapped, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Melissa flinched and immediately stood up. “Fine! You didn’t have to use my whole name… sto per uccidere quel bambino,” she grumbled as she stomped out of the room.

Melissa searched the school for Y/n, eventually finding her sitting in the classroom. Rolling her eyes, Melissa walked over quietly, not wanting to make a scene. Without thinking, she placed a hand on Y/n’s shoulder.

Y/n jumped with a startled scream and instinctively sprayed pepper spray directly into Melissa’s face.

Melissa let out a pained yell, clutching at her eyes. “I know I pissed you off, but what the hell is wrong with you?! Why would you do that?!”

Y/n froze, horrified by her own reaction. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

Melissa, still blinded and livid, groaned through gritted teeth. “Cazzo di pezzo di merda!”

It’s not that good, her personality isn’t exact and this is definitely not the best I’ve ever done. But I hope that you guys liked it!

[ethanhvnt]

Heyyy uh idk if I'll ever post this fanfic but slaps this snippet in ur face MISSION IMPOSSIBLE AND TOP GUN CROSSOVER AALLLEEERRRTTT

Ethan hadn't always been Ethan. Frankly, it was an identity he put on while working for the IMF. For his own safety. Being able to have two (relatively) separate lives without being disrupted. Even though he was more times than not torn between the two. He couldn't exactly clone himself to be in two places at the same time. God, that would've probably made his life easier. He would've had more time to spend with his friends and close friends and even "family" he had as both Pete Mitchell and Ethan Hunt.

He had often found himself being Ethan. It's what just happened. The IMF needed him more, and he wouldn't decline a mission. But it had been quiet for a while from their side. So Ethan— or Pete, he couldn't even tell anymore— took the opportunity to spend more time doing work. Well, not exactly "work." He was a test pilot— Top Gun was under fire, and he had to prove that The Navy had to keep the program afloat cause nothing could actually replace real aviators. So he put himself through extreme levels of speed, passing over Mach 10.

Which is a lot. It was a miracle he survived. He wouldn't know how to tell his friends, Benji, Luther, Ilsa— hell, even Ice or Bradley. If he had died during the process, who knows how they would react to the news?

But God—if there even was one— wouldn't let him die. So, guess he's alive for the time being. No recklessness or cockiness would kill him. It's not like he wanted to die or actively had sought out the chance of death. But he wouldn't mind if he did, in fact, die. He'd finally get that rest he'd been promised for so long.

It all felt like a blur to him. One second, he was testing out flying a plane to reach Mach 10 cause apparently Mach 9 wasn't enough for those snobby higher-ups. The other he found himself in an office, speaking to Admiral Cain, who had chewed him out for his actions during testing. But he had also said that Pete had apparently— been assigned back to Top Gun. Not as a student— course not. But as an instructor. Pete had rebuttaled, stating that he wasn't fit to be an instructor and that the time frame he had gotten was too small and not enough for a mission of this caliber. But nonetheless, he felt hopeless when he heard that it was Ice that had assigned him to the job. He couldn't say anything against that.

The mission was to destroy an unsanctioned uranium enrichment plant, before it was up and running. A mission that could leave some— if not all of the pilots involved dead. But with his experience with impossible things, he'd just have to think like Ethan did, for a moment. Ethan had always accomplished the impossible. So maybe there was a way for them to fly this, and make it out safely without any major casualties. He'd promised himself he wouldn't let anyone lose their life, he'd make them all work as a team, effectively. It would go great, that's what he reassured himself anyway. He wouldn't let anything bad happen, not under his watch.

OK, that was it bye *explodes cutely* (sorry if I got any top gun shit wrong cuz top gun is not my main hyperfixation rn) time to figure out how to continue it heh

[captainsophiestark]

Not On The Guest List

Platonic!Percy Jackson x Reader

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Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Percy Jackson

Summary: An uninvited guest shows up to Percy and Annabeth's wedding. Luckily, Percy's mortal cousin is on the case.

Word Count: 1,456

Category: Fluff

A/N: One fic a week every Friday of 2024!! We freaking did it!!! Guys, I literally have no idea how I managed to pull this off. But I did! Woohoo!!! Also, this fic and this fic also feature Percy and his cousin having adventures, although you don't need to read either of them to enjoy this one.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Hey! How's it going in here?" I called, knocking on the door as I slowly pushed it open. My cousin and favorite person in the universe, Percy Jackson, called back in response.

"It's going good."

I pushed the door the rest of the way open to find him standing in the center of the room in his tux, looking perfectly polished. I grinned, then made a show of wiping tears out of the corners of my eyes. Percy rolled his eyes, but he was grinning all the same.

"My baby cousin's all grown up," I cried, crossing the room to wrap him in a big hug. He hugged me back, tight, and when we finally pulled apart we were both beaming. "Annabeth's gonna faint."

Percy just laughed and shook his head.

"If anybody's going to faint at this wedding, it'll be me. Or maybe Grover."

"I don't think anybody'd blame either of you."

Percy and I shared a smile, but before we could do anything else, the satyr in question came bursting into the room, looking more than a little panicked. He stopped short when he noticed me and Percy, glancing between the two of us like he really didn't know what to do.

"Grover?" asked Percy, taking a few steps forward. "What's wrong?"

"Uh..." He glanced to me again, then back to Percy. "Nothing! Just... a small problem."

"What is it?" said Percy. I stepped forward, too, trying to give Grover a reassuring smile.

"I'm happy to help, whatever it is the bride and groom need. We'll figure it out."

Grover didn't look any less nervous as he wrung his hands and looked between us. He'd probably been hoping to find one of the magical members of Percy's side of the wedding party, but I'd have to make do.

"It's just... I just saw He- the goddess of marriage outside."

"Hera's here?" demanded Percy, nearly shouting the words without a care for whether she'd notice the use of her name. I scowled, even as Grover seemed to get more and more nervous.

"I guess, since this is a half-blood wedding, she decided..."

Percy practically growled, and I saw a look of pure rage on his face directed at the Queen of Olympus. Probably, if he had to, he'd go out there and start a fight himself to keep her away from his and Annabeth's wedding. Luckily, he had the best cousin in the world to help him out, instead.

"I've got this," I declared, stepping forward and putting a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Leave this to me."

"Hold on..." said Percy, stopping me short as I started to head for the door. "Are you sure? I mean... she can cause all kinds of problems..."

"I know. I've heard all about the shit she's stirred for you and for Annabeth. But I'm mortal, and almost definitely not on her radar. Don't worry about it, Perce. I've got this."

I shot him a wink, then turned and booked it out of the room before either he or Grover could second guess me.

Thankfully, despite being mortal, it didn't take me long to locate Hera once I made it outside the wedding venue. She was practically glowing, and she was the only person in range who had a scowl on her face. I cleared my throat, straightened my shoulders, and shifted into character. Then, I rushed forward and grabbed the nearest person to Hera by the arm. I didn't know her, but I didn't need to for this to work.

"Did you hear?" I asked in a very loud stage whisper. The woman looked at me in absolute confusion, but I continued, just hoping she wouldn't say anything to ruin my play. "I just heard them talking, and they're calling off the wedding."

The woman in front of me gasped, and although I didn't dare look, I could feel Hera's attention shifting to me.

"I know! But it's done. It's like a curse or something, I swear. Everything's been going wrong, and they've been fighting for, like, the past hour. We're working on putting an announcement together for the guests, but like... this is not happening. We all thought they were bulletproof. Apparently not..."

The woman I'd started speaking to looked horrified, but she stopped mattering to me as Hera walked past us, a smirk on her face. Before she reached the corner of the venue, she disappeared into thin air. I smiled.

"Are you... are you serious?" the woman before me asked, her hand flying to her heart. I straightened up and grinned, pausing for one last check that Hera was nowhere in sight before answering.

"Nope! Sorry, weird prank. I thought it'd be a hit, but... clearly not. Enjoy the ceremony!"

The woman scowled, shocked and furious, but I turned and headed inside before she could make a scene. As far as I was concerned, that was a complete mission success. It wouldn't be a forever fix, since Hera would figure out the wedding did actually go on at some point, but hopefully I'd done things well enought that none of us would get in trouble for it. I headed back towards the groom's room to let Percy know the good news, but somebody stopped me just before I rounded the corner to the right hallway.

I looked up to see someone I recognized from a few pictures Percy and Sally had around their houses. Poseidon himself, attending his son's wedding in a Hawaiian shirt and shorts. I narrowed my eyes.

"That was well done," he said, giving me a small smile and nod. I quickly schooled my expression to absolute neutrality.

"I don't know what you're talking about. On an unrelated note, any chance your magic powers would allow you to change into a suit for this wedding? Or at least pants with the Hawaiin shirt?"

Poseidon just stared at me for a long moment, then finally, he started laughing.

"I can see the family resemblance to Sally," he said, clapping a hand on my shoulder and giving me a good-natured smile. "And don't worry. I'm happy to cover for you if anyone starts asking questions."

I sighed. It wasn't an answer to my pants question, but it was a promise to lie to Hera for me, so... I guess I'd take it.

"Thanks. And thanks for coming. I know it'll mean a lot to Percy."

Poseidon gave another smile and nod, then headed off to join the rest of the wedding guests. I watched him go for a moment, then took a deep breath and turned to go find Percy like I'd been trying to do. Never a dull moment since I'd reconnected with this side of the family, but I'd also never regretted it for a second.

Percy was over the moon when I'd told him, and not long after, he and Annabeth finally walked down the isle and said their vows. The ceremony was absolutely beautiful, and by some miracle, we didn't get a reappearance from Hera. After so many pictures everyone in the wedding party was ready to drop, we moved on to an absolutely outstanding reception. With literal magical Olympians in attendance, the party got immediately into full swing, and continued long into the early hours of the next morning.

After whirling around the dancefloor for more songs in a row than I could count, I finally made my way to plop down at a table for just a few moments of breathing and taking the weight off my feet. At least half the guests had already called it a night, but a core of us were still going.

As I took a deep breath, Percy emerged from the dancefloor's crowd and made his way over to me, too. I grinned as I saw him coming, raising the glass of water I'd found in toast.

"Congratulations," I said as he sat down next to me, a massive, dopey smile on his face. "Again."

"Thanks. And thanks for the help today with... You Know Who. Don't know what we would've done without you."

I grinned. "Sure thing, Perce. I missed a lot of Olympian days when you were in the middle of the shit, and even if I hadn't, I know I probably wouldn't have been able to help much. So I'm glad I'm able to help now."

Percy smiled and leaned over to give my shoulder a squeeze, then slumped back in his chair. We sat for a few moments in comfortable silence, watching fondly as our friends and loved ones continued to destroy the dance floor.

In another moment or two, I knew we'd be dragged back into the middle of it, both with smiles on our faces. But it was nice to be able to take a quick breather with my favorite cousin amidst the festivities to just sit back and enjoy the moment.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

Riordanverse Taglist: @valkyriepirate

[arrowheadedbitch]

Maela, I'm just gonna tell you the broad points of the Odyssey because I feel bad that you don't know it at all and are being roped in this way

The Illiad is about the Trojan war, you know, with the wooden horse? And the Odyssey is the sequel to that following a man named Odysseus who is the reigning king of an island named Ithaca

His wife Penelope and his newborn son Telemachus were left in Ithaca while he fought in the Trojan war, a war that lasted ten years. But in the end, Odysseus' side won and he gets to go home!

But, they're out of food, so they need to make a pitstop before they can go back home

So, Odysseus and his crew of SIX HUNDRED sail their ships to a nearby island, they start at the island of the Lotus Eaters where if you eat their fruit they mess with your mind and make you never want to leave, but they manage to get out with little skin off their backs and find a cave filled with sheep

They have 600 men to feed, so they start killing sheep to bring to the ships

But then, a cyclops named Polyphemus comes out. Uh oh, turns out these sheep are his best friends so he's gonna try and kill them.

He kills a few of them, including Odysseus' best friend, Polites, who will haunt the narrative from here on out.

But, Odysseus gave him some wine as a peace offering before he started killing people (and also lied about his name being Nobody) and surprise surprise! It was too strong/drugged so Polyphemus is out of commission for a sec, meaning Ody can form a plan!

That plan? Stab the cyclop's eye so they can escape

So they do that. And it works!

They don't leave immediately and can hear an unknown man asking Polyphemus who hurt him, and he says "Nobody" because he thinks that's Ody's name so the voice essentially calls him a pussy and leaves

But, ody is super pissed off about him killing some of his men, so on his way out he yells at the cyclops and tells him a lot of things, including his full name, title, and address, you know, like an idiot

So then they leave. But, uh oh! There's a huge storm blocking their way to Ithaca!!!

But, Ody sees Aeolus' (wind god) island, so he drops by and asks for help, Aeolus gives him a bag full of wind. This bag has the storm they couldn't cross in it, all he has to do is make sure it stays closed and he's free to go home!

But Ithaca is about ten days away, so he stays up for nine days straight and on the ninth night, he falls asleep and while he's sleeping, one of his crew mates, who are all convinced the bag is actually filled with gold and not a dangerous storm, opens it so they get blown away from Ithaca right before they reach the shores

VERY far away from Ithaca

But, ody manages to wake up and close the bag before all of the storm escapes

Then, Poseidon shows up. Turns out, Polyphemus? Yeah, that's Poseidon's son. Uh oh, HE was the voice they heard in the cave!

Poseidon is pissed at Ody's hubris so he's gonna make his life a living hell, starting by killing a shit ton of his crew, literally drowning multiple ships. The crew goes from just under 600 to a little over 40. YIKES.

But, before poseidon can kill him too, he opens the wind bag and escapes with the last of the wind. They land on an island. Ody sends some men to look around the island and figure out who they are.

But uh oh again! Turns out this is Circe's island! (Minor goddess of sorcery, and don't try to tell me she isn't a goddess, her parents are literally fucking titans, Helios and his wife did not give birth to a mortal) and she turned the scouts he sent into pigs to keep her nymphs safe.

So, Ody comes over, talks to her, he manages to convince her to turn his men back to humans and help him.

She send him to the underworld to meet a dead prophet who will hopefully help him, this prophet is the blind Tiresias and he basically tells him "lol, you're fucked dude, but you WILL get home haha you just won't like who you are by then..." and odysseus says "what the fuck does that mean???" And leaves, deciding that he can't be merciful anymore if he wants to get home in one piece

They pass by some sirens, in epic he kills them in the original he doesn't, yadda yadda, they have to pass through the Lair of Scylla (big freaky sea monster lady with six heads) to get past Poseidon since he still won't let them get home, Odysseus passes put six torches, Scylla eats anyone holding a torch, so that means her mouths are all full and she can't hurt them further, they leave

But, his second in command, Eurylochus is NOT happy with him sacrificing men, they stage a mutiny and end up on an island

Eurylochus kills one of the cows there and WHOOPTY WOO, that cow belongs to Helios, you are FUCKED, uh oh once again

So, the entire crew dies but Odysseus manages to escape, but he ends up injured and washed up on some rando island

The island turns out to belong to a goddess named Calypso and she's been alone for a very long time, so when she sees Odysseus wash up on her island, she decides that he's hers now

Odysseus, who is married to the lovely Penelope, is not happy that this goddess decided he belongs to her now, in both the sense of "he is an object" and "I am in love with you"

He's stuck on this island for about TEN YEARS, then Hermes shows up and tells Calypso she has to let him go

He makes his way home, but Poseidon still ain't over that shit so once he gets to the shores of Ithaca he gets into a big fight with him

But, he makes it through and now he's home...but 118 men have been messing around at the palace since he left and are growing impatient with both his wife and son...

But at this point Odysseus has been gone 20 years, they think he's dead, they know the crown is stalling, so she has to put on a competition. Whoever can string Odysseus' old bow and shoot through very particular obstacles can be the new king with Penelope. But this is a special bow, only Odysseus and Telemachus know how to string it, so Odysseus disguises himself as an old man and does the challenge flawlessly, no one else could do it (except for Telemachus but ody interrupted him so he wouldn't finish)

But now the suitors are planning to kill Telemachus and rape Penelope and take over by force and you KNOW Odysseus can't stand for that so he slaughters all of them in his palace, ALL of them

He finally meets his son, this is the first time he's seen him in twenty years, and he gets to see his wife

Penelope asks him to do one thing for her first, lift up their old wedding bed and take it far away from the palace

Odysseus is hurt, he points out how he had made this wedding bed by hand and it was carved into the tree they first met at and the only way to move it would be to chop that tree down.

Penelope reveals that she never wanted the bed gone, just wanted to see if he knew that because if he didn't then he wasn't the REAL Odysseus but since he does then he is!

So, they get back together and live happily ever after, aside from all the very intense trauma.

Best greek tragedy ever.

By the way, yes, every other character in the illiad also lived through some sort of tragedy going home, that is if they survived the war, odys the only one who took 20 goddamn years to get home though lmao

My favorite part of the Orpheus and Odysseus were in the underworld at the same time is the implication that Odysseus was actually singing for real and not because Epic is a musical retelling

[newwave-lesbian]

i kind of feel like i will literally never have any real life friends again like what do i even do i am touch starved and pathetic

[sluckythewizard]

[PUT INTO PLACE, TIED DOWN AND ARRANGED, AND IS NEVER THE SAME, AGAIN.]<-listen to my favorite songs. VAMPIRES ARE WONDERFUL ARENT THEY. THE FLESH IS SO MUCH MORE DURABLE. SO MUCH STRETCHIER THAN HUMANS. THE STRESS DOESNT KILL A VAMPIRE THE SAME WAY IT DOES A HUMAN. YOU CAN TAKE THEM APART THREAD BY THREAD AND LEAVE THEM WIDE AWAKE WITHOUT WORRY OF THE BRAINMATTER SPOILING UNDER VINEGARY AGONY.

[b4kuch1n]

toy doctor redux

plushy based on this guy

[finex09]

decided to hop on beepbox and make a lil diddy except its in e minor bc im feeling a lil sad and down in the dumps

(i will say the melody isnt all mine, i literally couldnt think of anything for the first couple of bars so i yoinked it from this piano piece. the rest of melody is mine. idk felt the need to say that. hope yall enjoy)

[nightmare8-420]

to whatever demon thats entered me; thank you for making me work in drawing bc holy fucking shit i feel so good

[medicinemane]

At least I could disable the suggestions but just... I'm sick of it, I'm sick of companies trying to think for me

I'd rather be miserable but doing shit my own way than placid and glass eyed and just taking whatever companies tell me to

Like... literally just asking what I get out of writing a post on tumblr... zero suggestions, just letting me say whatever dumb stuff comes to my head

[neverendingford]

.

[seventh-district]

i’m not like other girls, my “Rest” stats are a heart rate of 110bpm and a HRV of 14 fucking milliseconds. :)

[kuromi-hoemie]

lmfao i am beating my laptops ass rn 😭 i have 3MB of ram free, i need to convince my job to let me get a lil dedicated server to run at home.

[skrunksthatwunk]

god goromi really fucked my gender didn't she

[b4kuch1n]

made a mushroom pin that's also the hardest object to photograph on earth. I still have a brick and a half of air dry clay left so I hope to make more :]

[satorena]

( P*SSY GOT ) P☆WER !?

bad ☆ summary. converting a loser into a munch wasn’t on your yearly bingo card ( or was it ? )

content ★ warnings. explicit content. mdni. foul language. situationship!gojo. college au. cunningulus. frōtting. premature ejaculātion. fīngering. eventual smut. gojo pines for like 99% of the fic. he also studies in pornology. reader is kinda bratty. mention of death lightheartedly. a lot of italicized words. lowkey gojo centric? 6.4k words (bye).

rena’s ☆ note. SATORENA COMEBACK … sorta (・・?)

“gimme a kiss.”

your face scrunches before the words can express your distaste. with your hand on the handle of his car’s door, your fingers tighten around the metal bar, half tempted to leave the man at your left— rosy lips puckered into an obnoxious smooch.

his eyelids are shut tight as his brows furrow to the centre of his forehead, face leaned in. you chuckle at his theatrics, lifting your free hand to press your digits at his pucker. his eyelids open as his brows now loosen, “gojo, bye.”

you feel his hands wrap around your wrist, gently lifting your hand off his mouth, though your fingers hover over his lips still, “girl.” he tilts his head to the side, emitting an aura of sass you’ve yet to understand, “it’s satoru to you— i can’t even have a little one? haven’t i been good all day?”

you click your tongue, “you been runnin’ your mouth all day long actually,” and before your mind can even process your following words, you focus on the way his plump lips fall into another one of his childish pouts. cute. however he chooses to take your invitation is all up to him. your eyes dart to the rosy flesh as you hum, “mhm, if only you ate pussy as good as you talk shit.”

you feel the hold on your wrist drop, as his frown switches to a blank stare. you cock a brow, watching as the hand his steering wheel tightens.

he gulps, eyes narrowing before glancing over to the leather wheel, “i, uh, don’t eat pussy.”

oh. . . oh.

the slam of the car door speaks the rest for you.

“woah— hey!” gojo yells after you, though your figure seems to get smaller with the steps you take. in your hold is your purse, bouquet of flowers he’d bought earlier and house keys. “baby, hold on— this damn window,” he cusses, removing the barrier between you and him angrily. you hadn’t even hesitated to exit the car, as if he’d said the world’s most vile comment.

you’re not listening, and for some reason gojo feels his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach. what the fuck had he said that made you all upset with him?

he watches helplessly as you insert your key into the hole. the chiming sounds of your keys serve as a reminder that he was definitely in trouble. that and he wasn’t getting his damn goodbye kiss.

he sighs instead, albeit defeatedly. “am i at least gonna see you soon?”

the front door opens and you look back over your shoulder, and god— he really thought he had it. his lips threaten to pull into a smile, ready for your little mood to be over with.

you grin and as does he. you even give him a cute wave, thank fuck, “have yourself a nice life, baby.”

and the front door closes. damn.

☆ ☆

“you said what?!”

gojo groans into the phone, sprawling himself on his king sized mattress that suddenly feels way to big for him alone. where were you when he needed you? oh that’s right, “she ghosted me! i’m blocked on all socials— can you believe that?”

he tried reaching out to you through texts to make sure you were feeling okay, but the shade of green told him everything he needed to know— especially as an apple user. he then proceeded to go through your social media, to double check his suspicions and there it was, user not found.

“uh, duh?” geto is as judgemental as ever, and gojo doesn’t try to suppress the roll of his eyes. “bro, you just told the girl you’re talkin’ to that you don’t give head. the fuck d’you think was gonna happen?”

“it’s not even a big deal!” he argues because his pride in on the line, and he ignores the groan geto gives him across the phone. rude. his fingers pinch at the top of his nose bridge, “was it really necessary to block me? literally just tell me to kill myself at this point.”

“pretty sure that’s what she blocked you for.” geto snickers, and gojo realizes he’s lucky they aren’t in person because he would have blocked him. instead he whines, pressing the speaker button before stuffing his face in his pillow. he’s probably insane but he swears there’s a hint of your scent there, and now he’s whining louder.

“quit bitchin’. you brought this upon yourself,” and out of spite, gojo whines louder. if his legs kick against his mattress childishly, it’s nobody’s business but his own. the love of his life just walked out of his life— give him a break. “and dude, no shade but do you really not eat pussy? are you gay or somethin’?”

“i am not—” he cuts himself off once the sound of his own voice echoes loudly in his lonely room. geto winces and gojo bites down on his tongue before sighing. “i’m not gay. i love women only. seriously. how does not eating pussy make me gay?”

the line goes quiet, and gojo can tell geto’s making that face he makes whenever he’s finding the right words to say without offending gojo. it ticks him off. “alright, lemme counter that question with one of my own. why don’t you eat pussy?”

gojo pauses. he tightens his fingers around his pillow as the question ponders. he thinks about having received head in the back of his car once, the other time in the bathroom of some frat party, and another in some girl’s bedroom. from all memories, he draws a similar conclusion— they always come onto him first.

“i dunno.” his lips fall into a pout, tracing patterns into his pillowcase with his index. “they never really ask, so i never bothered. that can’t be weird, right? all of my hookups have consisted of them pulling my pants down. why would i refuse? i get my nut and that’s that.”

and because geto is genuinely never on his side, “satoru . . . eugh.” some kind of best friend is he.

“what?!” he hisses in retaliation, glaring at his phone as if it would solve his issues. there’s nothing he hates more than feeling judged. “you fucking asked!”

“calm the fuck down,” he hears geto rolling his eyes. the white haired man huffs, the blow of air pushing his bangs up before they fall back down. okay, maybe he should calm down. whatever. “so essentially what you’re saying is you’ve never been put in a position where you could eat pussy?”

something like that, “sure.” gojo nods, and he doesn’t understand why geto sighs.

“why do i even bother?” though the answer is clear, he’s pretty sure geto was talking to himself. gojo clicks his tongue, ready to bark back but geto beats him to it. “so tell her just that— it’s not that you won’t give head, it’s just that you haven’t given head. which still blows me, but whatever.”

“how? remember she blocked me on everything?” the thought makes gojo whine again, throwing his limbs all over his bed. he hits his phone, then opts to grab it. “is that not entitlement? i have to bend my back all over the damn place just to get her to talk to me again?”

“satoru, you’ve literally done the same thing. don’t act like you’re above it,” geto chuckles and gojo hears shuffling in the background. the ravenette sighs in relief, and he assumes he’s now in his own bed. “besides, you fuckin’ love women who give you challenges.”

and fuck, he’s really not wrong. “yeahhh, you know me so well.” he wipes a fake tear from his eye. he rolls over onto his back, “welp, i’m gonna log into your insta to stalk her account. i miss her so much i’m literally gonna die.”

“satoru.” geto warns him, but gojo is quicker than that. he’s already typing your name into the search bar, username memorized as if it were his cellphone number.“i swear to god if you accidentally like her shit—”

“thanks bestie, love ya lots!” and he hangs up the phone. and with a shit eating grin, he giggles, “time to start lurking.”

☆ ☆

so it’s been months (read: four days) since he last seen you. he’s thankful you’re at least in two of his courses, so he has some sort of opportunity to reach you. he’d spent the last months (hours) stalking your page, viewing your stories to see if there’d been any indicator that you missed him as badly as he missed you.

and all he’s gotten so far is that you spent friday out to dinner (with him) (it was just a mirror pic of your outfit but an outfit you wore on a date with him) (you love him so bad), you had a girls’ night on saturday with shoko and utahime (he barely registered they were in the selfie) and sunday was a study sesh you had at the cafe across the college. he had to screenshot and zoom in to ensure there were no signs of living souls in the same booth as you.

he was still in the clear. whew.

and so monday morning falls, and he’s actually rushing to get to class for once (late but as expected). the one of two classes he shares with you. he hopes he’ll find you sitting in your habitual seat, not too far up close yet not too far back, and he might pull the fire alarm if he spots anybody next to you.

he’s a man on a mission— he’s going to talk to you today. he needs to be back in your good graces. there were many things he wanted to yap to you about, many places he thought of taking you over the weekend, many moments he wanted your soft lips back on his and your gentle hand back in his own.

he misses you, damn it.

there you sit, in all your glory, shining so bright in the middle of this depressing ass psychology course in the early hours of the butt fuck morning. he sees you twirling your pen in between your fingers, your cheek leaned into the palm of your hand— and nobody by your side.

if he rushes and trips over his feet momentarily to get to you in time, it’s nobody’s business but his own (and the girl who’s backpack laid useless on the floor. hazard much.)

he so much as plops into the seat as he does actually sit in it, and he watches as you jerk in surprise. though, the look of surprise is quickly replaced by aloofness. you feel different— not entirely closed off but not as welcoming as you usually are. you’re probably still done with him.

well it’s too damn bad he’s not done with you, “good morning, princess.”

you blink at him, before nodding your head curtly. “morning, gojo.” and you turn your focus back onto the professor. just like that, you shut down another conversation.

he doesn’t like that, and so he pokes at your side and chews at his strawberry gum. “you blocked me on everything.”

“i did.” you answer shortly, though your eyes never leave the professor. he cannot be that interesting, who actually gives a fuck about cognitive dissonance?

“seen this new bakery shop down the street.” he tries again. “wanted to take you but that was impossible because somebody blocked me.”

“i mean, you know where i live.” you shrug, writing whatever the fuck the professor had mentioned in your notebook. wait, what? you turn your head to see him gaping at you in confusion, and you smirk at his silence.

“cat got your tongue?” you quip, amused by his stillness. your eyes sparkle mischievously, though your smile isn’t entirely full. don’t tell him, you’ve been— “too bad it’s not mine, though.”

ohhh, you cheeky brat.

“so. . . you were never really mad at me?” gojo blinks, his mind running miles a second. nothing was adding up, he was positively certain you were cutting ties with him. “this whole time. you weren’t mad about the pussy eating comment?”

“don’t get it twisted,” you raise a brow, crossing your arms over your chest. you lift a finger in the air before pointing at him, “you,” and then pointing at yourself “and i are done. we can still be cool but i’m not wasting my time with no bitch—respectfully.”

“so you are mad?” he asks again, disregarding the bitch comment. he knows what he’s supposed to say— to clarify the situation, to make it known that it’s not like he’s repulsed by the idea of giving head— but you make it so hard to stay on track when you’re acting defiant.

suguru was right— he does love a challenge.

“mad?” you giggle, and gojo leans back in his seat. damn, you’re confusing. stone cold one minute but all giggly the next. it’s cool, he’ll figure you out. “i ain’t trippin’ baby— if you don’t wanna eat it then don’t. another man definitely will.”

huh, “oh?” his eyes narrow just slightly, though the smirk on his lips never falter. he ignores the way his stomach just dropped to his ass at your implication— there is no way in hell is he letting another man have you. not when he’s still alive and breathing. “if you think i’m letting that happen, you’ve got another thing comin’.”

“everything seems to be coming but me,” you bat your lashes, and damn he fell right into that one. you drop your pen down, giving him one last smile before redirecting your focus to the professor before you. “the real question is what do you plan on doing ‘bout that?”

you give him no time to respond, and it’s not like he thinks he would be able to, as you begin to pack your belongings into your tote bag. you’re leaving and he barely got to say what he’d been memorizing all weekend. oh well, at least he now knows you haven’t entirely cut him off.

if he doesn’t knows better, it feels like you want him to chase after you.

god, he thinks he’s in love.

☆ ☆

gojo satoru is amazing at everything. there truly isn’t something he can do that won’t come out spectacular. he’s gifted, that he knows much, and it’s difficult to stay humble when he’s constantly reminded of so.

“i can easily do this shit.” he mumbles to himself, cerulean eyes narrowing into focus at the bright lit screen of his ipad. his airpods are in, and he’s gonna be completely honest— the pornstar’s screaming is starting to get on his nerve. however, he’s always been an exceptional student and when it’s time to lock in, it’s time to lock in.

his legs feel as though they’ve fallen asleep in the criss-cross position he’s been sat in on his bed for the past two hours. irrelevant, he decides as he picks at his bottom lip with his fingers. his device is running hot with how long it’s been since it last caught a break, but he had bigger issues to worry about. so, basically all he has to do is spread open her lips and go to town until she squirts? sounds simple enough.

he watches as the guy begins motorboating into the girl’s pussy and— “damn, that looks like it hurts.” a grimace creeps onto his face as the guy repeatedly goes ham on swollen red lips. he’s got half a mind telling him that the moans the girl’s letting out are entirely out of agony and not pleasure.

“aaaalrighty,” gojo speaks up, though to himself. “next video, that shit was ass. pussy hurts just thinkin’ bout it, eugh.”

he finds an amateur video, and the thumbnail seemed intimate enough. after an agonizing ad of ‘want a quick break from the ads?’, the video begins. the upper half of the woman’s body is cut out of frame, but she’s laid onto her side, her backside in view. her top leg lifted just slightly, the man lays on his stomach and spreads them apart further and begins to lick.

he dives his tongue inside her cunt, not too sloppy, and gently works his way in. his thumb is caressing at her puckered forbidden zone, always gently, as his tongue glides up and down her labia.

gojo gulps. the girl makes soft sounds, hand coming down to play her the man’s hair, and he proceeds eat her out skillfully. her back arches, she whines and begs for more, and he never loses control. at some point, the hand that focused on her asshole moves up to grip at her cheeks, thus spreading her pussy lips further. she’s already wet from a mixture of fluids, and the sound it creates is so damn obscene.

gojo gulps again, and his sweats feel tight.

before his mind can even allow it, he’s thinking of you. he thinks of you on your side, legs spread open for his disposition as he brings you this same pleasure. as he lays himself on his stomach, munching at your pussy in ways that’ll have you squirming all over his bed, squeezing your plush thighs around his head and begging for him to give you more.

he thinks of how good you’d smell— how good you’d taste. he thinks of how nice you smell whenever you wrap your arms around his neck and he follows suit around your waist. he thinks of how sweet your lips taste when you’re straddling his thighs and slipping your tongue in his mouth.

pheromones are a crazy thing. your scent lingering in his car alone drives him insane. he’s so prone to boners around you, it’s like he’s a dog you’ve trained.

and now he’s thinking he wants you in this very bed at this very instance, ipad be damned, pussy spread open so he can feast. so he can relish the sounds you make as you call out his name, enamoured by the way his tongue would flick at your clit and break open that dam of water right onto his face.

“shit.” he chucks his ipad onto the floor, cradling his head into the palms of his hands. how had he not ever wanted to do this before?

☆ ☆

he doesn’t expect you to pick up. it’s far past two in the morning on a thursday night, and he’s missing you. badly. he misses you and your sweet smile. he misses you and your smart mouth. he misses you and the way your lips move so fluidly against his own, as if they were made for one another.

he really doesn’t expect you to pick up.

it’s around the fifth ring that he hears your honeyed voice, “hi.” his eyes widen as he sits up from his bed in a hurry. talk about a damn surprise.

“hey.” he says back lamely, because of course he does. he feels the corner of his lips tugging into a smile and his heart is beating wildly against his rib cage. “didn’t think you’d answer.”

“mhm. so what’d you call me for?” you sound tired, and he wonders if you’d been sleeping when he called. somehow, the thought makes his stomach churn at the implication you cut off hours of sleep for him.

“just wanted to hear your voice.” gojo answers as honestly as he can, leaning down to rest his back back into the mattress of his bed. he shuts his eyes and imagines his arm falling asleep underneath your head, using him as a pillow. “been missin’ you.”

“you literally see me every other day at school,” he’s graced with the harmonious sounds of your giggles, and he can already picture the way your shoulders shake as dimples curve into your cheeks. “y’re so fuckin’ clingy.”

he supposes he is, can’t even find it in him to disagree. you’ve been plaguing his mind since you cut him off (question mark) last week. he wasn’t sure what kind of ban you were putting on him, but he’s been tiptoeing around his relationship with you for too long. the absence of your presence in the way he craves is driving him nuts. he misses you, damn it.

a longing sigh rips from his throat, “can’t help that i miss that ass,” he jokes instead because talking about feelings and vulnerability is wrong. “you still owe me a goodbye kiss, y’know? just left a poor guy hangin’, rude.”

“hmm,” you hum lazily and he isn’t sure what to expect. he’s just talking out of his ass, wants to restore that playful banter you guys had prior to this whole pussy eating mess— which he’d gladly now get on his knees and rock your fucking world. “like i said already, you know where i live.”

“you got one more time to say that before i show up at your doorstep for real,” gojo tests the waters, and swings his legs off his bed. he’s waiting for a sign, confirmation, anything to ensure you were being serious. late night be damned, he will show up to your door and flip your shit right then and there.

“the fuck i gotta repeat myself for?” you sigh, and gojo’s slipping his shoes on. he’s wasting no more time, he wants you right now. “if you really missed me you would have been come see me. you’re all talk.”

“so when i yell at your doorstep to lemme eat it, don’t start lookin’ at me crazy—i’m warning ya.” and with that he hangs up. he’s not leaving any more room for debates, enough’s enough. and shit, when the fuck had he gotten bricked?

he grabs his keys and slams his door close.

☆ ☆

you’re looking at him like he grew an extra head on his shoulders overnight. he’s looking at you like the tee you have on your body decimated his entire bloodline. there’s a heavy silence between you both, as if either one of you are expecting the other to make the first move.

“you actually came.” you blink in mild shock, neck craning up to look him dead in the eye. he’s panting heavily, he might’ve ran here the second he could, but how could he not have?

“enough games, baby.” gojo answers instead and takes a step into your apartment. you back up in retaliation, and he takes another close step. you stay still this time. his hands sneak below the hem of your shirt and slide up to your bare waist, grabbing onto the plush flesh. you feel jolts of electricity imbedded into your skin with every lingering touch. “lemme eat it, come on. please?”

“oh?” you cock an eyebrow, raising a hand to press your palm flat against the plane of his chest. you feel his heartbeat thudding wildly. “and here i thought you were too good to stoop as low as giving women head.”

gojo clicks his tongue and tightens his hold on you. “i never said that.”

“you basically did.” you bite back, tilting your head to the side. you see his nostrils flare a bit, “or does that rule apply with just me?”

“if it did, would i be here at three in the morning begging to eat your pussy?” gojo rolls his eyes. you open your mouth but snap it back shut and gojo decides you conceded. he lifts you from the ground and places you on his shoulder, ignoring your ‘put me down!’ and opts to shut you up with a firm slap on your ass.

your cheeks jiggle from the impact, and his dick twitches in his briefs. as he suspected, you’ve got no bottoms on— just a cute pair of pink lace panties he wants to tear apart with his teeth. animalistic is what you make him.

“so. . . which one is your room?” he finds himself in the corridor, arm wrapped around the back of your knees. you fall limp in his hold, defeatedly as your arm lifts to point at the door at the end of the hall. he smirks and rubs at your booty, “atta girl. look at ya bein’ all obedient and shit.”

“shut up.” you huff, and he would bet a million dollars you’ve got that adorable pout on your lips. the one you make whenever you don’t get something done the way you planned.

your bedroom is everything he expected from you, fits your personality just about right. but—respectfully, fuck your bedroom. he’s got bigger issues to address, and that can only be done with your panties on the floor and a mouth full of your cunt. his dick is twitching uncontrollably at the thought of it alone.

“if you drop me on this bed, i swear i’m gonna kill you.” tilting your head, you warn him once he stands next to the edge of your bed frame. though a moot point, because if you know gojo as well as you think you do, you’re about to meet your duvets face first.

“mhm, what was that?” cupping a hand behind his ear, he pretends innocence then proceeds to do exactly what you warned him not to do. him and his long ass limbs, manhandling you all over the damn place as if its in his birthright. and no, it does not make your cunt clench, despite your thighs rubbing one against another. “sorry shortie, think i missed what you said.”

when you’re finally able to gain composure, you sit up on your elbows and furrow your brows in the nastiest scowl you can muster. he stands right above you, his frame so large it both annoys and turns you on. “gojo, you stupid fucking—”

you want to slap the smile off his face. “yeah, yeah.” he cuts you off, before leaning down to hover over you. his arms are pinned at your side, upper body pressing against yours. you feel the weight of his hips pressing into your legs, and so you widen the space. he fits in just as perfectly as you’d imagined he would. the tip of his nose brushes yours, biceps flexing in your peripherals. you feel his breath fanning at your cupid’s bow, warm yet it leaves shivers creeping at your spine.

“think you owe me somethin’, princess.” his voice comes out in a low growl, from the depths of his chest. his presence is so dominating— his bulge pressed right up against your aching cunt, the feel of his heartbeat right against yours. it all feels dizzying, the scent of his cologne filling up your nostrils and clouding any better sense of judgement.

he’s teasing you— leans in, brushes his soft lips against yours and watches as you lean forward to capture them but pulls away just in nick of time. he loves every one of your facial expressions, especially that adorable scowl of yours. he can’t wait to see the faces you make when you’re in absolute bliss.

he tilts his head just slightly, practically mouthing the words into your parted mouth. and with a low chuckle, he speaks, “if you want it, take it.”

you might’ve folded first, but he kisses you back just as eagerly, lips moulding into one another. you feel him sigh into your mouth, as if you’d relieved him of all stresses weighing on his shoulders. you lift a hand to cup at the back of his neck, fingernails scratching at the undercut at his nape.

gojo shudders beneath your touch, rolling his hips deeper into yours and relishes in the way you moan softly into his mouth. he wants to drink up every single sound you make, wants to discover your body’s sensitive spots and maneuver them into making a mess out of you.

your neck soon begins to ache, and almost as if he can read your mind, pushing deeper into you as you fall back onto your bed. he never takes his lips off of yours— not when the hold in his hair lowers in favour to grip at his biceps or stroke his back, not even when your legs wrap tightly at his waist. at a particular grind, you moan louder than any other sound you’d made all night, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

“gojo,” you whine into his mouth, fingers clawing at his compression tee. he continues to roll his bulge into your clothed cunt, aiming at that spot that has you arching your back off the bed and into him. he grips a hand tightly at your plush thigh, his hold so hard you’re certain he’ll leave bruises. “you said y-you’d eat it. be a man of your, ngh, word.”

“yeah, that’s right,” he pulls away finally, a thin string of saliva connecting both your lips. he pecks at your kiss bitten lips, the dazed look in your eyes igniting a fire deep in his gut. “gotta keep my promise— can’t keep my baby waitin’ too long,” you feel his lips trail from the corner of your lips to the slope of your jaw, “she gets all cranky an’ pissy.” from the column on your neck to your collarbone, “starts gettin’ all mean with me.”

“oh my gosh, shut up!” you complain, though your hold on him tightens. you feel the vibrations of his chuckles at your jugular, followed by a deep plunge on his teeth at the thin layer of skin and another agonizingly slow grind against your clit. “fuckin’— shit— hurry up already!”

“tsk, see what i mean?” gojo tuts, hands sliding down the curves at your torso. you feel his large fingers play with the material of your panties, rolling the lace between forefingers. the contrast of the coolness of his rings against your heated skin adds a strange stimulation to your senses. “so mouthy, ‘m gonna have to do somethin’ about that.”

“i’m mouthy?” you squawk, watching as he lifts your tee up from your body. he taps wordlessly at your waist and you understand to remove the article of clothing. you chuck the tee across the room, before redirecting your focus on the man peppering wet kisses all over your stomach. it leaves butterflies rattling inside. “you literally cannot shut the fuck up— what’s the hold up? awe, don’t tell me you can’t walk the talk?”

he pauses for a bit. he doesn’t let himself fall bait for your words. you’re just being bratty— all hot and bothered and can’t properly ask for what you need. you don’t have to worry, he’s here entirely for your pleasure. he isn’t even thinking about the way his cock throbs painfully in his boxers, doesn’t even attempt to relieve it at all.

and so, he kneels at the edge of the bed. with two large hands cupping at your hips, he pulls you closer to him and rests your thighs on his shoulders. he watches as your chest rises up and down, and you prop yourself back onto your elbows.

your eyes are misty, your lips swollen and wet, your hair a mess and your neck littered in marks that scream gojo. you already look fucked out and he hadn’t done shit. god, he can’t wait to stuff his face between your thighs.

“i got you baby,” he drags his index finger right in the center of your cunt. he can both feel and see the material dampen with your arousal, your hips squirming as you chase for more. he licks his lips as he narrows in on the treasure, he swears he hears his stomach growling. “promise i do. just relax for me, yeah?”

“whatever.” you mumble, and comply to his order. he calls you a good girl, before stroking at your clit some more. the reactions you give will forever be imprinted in his mind, fleeting touches already granting him the opportunity to hear your delicate voice once more. you may be impatient but gojo is worse, and he decides that he wants to see your cunt now. he pushes your panties to the side, and the sight he’s rewarded with nearly— nearly, had him cumming right on two knees.

gojo gulps. “holy shit,” he feels his voice waver in excitement, eyes widened as he stares dead on. your cunt clenches around nothing from the switch of temperature, oozing more of your arousal down to your sheets. your pussy lips are puffy, clit sitting atop so prettily and damn, he wants to hump something.

he isn’t sure why but you try to close your thighs together, rude much, though gojo is much stronger. he keeps them spread wide, and shoots you a look. “do not.”

“tsk.” you click your tongue, looking away. and, oh, are you shy? “stop staring, you fuckin’ weirdo.”

he’s too far enamoured by the slick dribbling from your tiny hole down the crack of your ass. it trickles so tauntingly, that he finds himself nearly jealous. he wishes he could be there— oh wait, “just appreciatin’ my meal before i eat, sue me.”

the pad of his thumb collects your juices before popping it into his mouth. “wow,” he mumbles, more so to himself, at your taste bursting onto his taste buds. it’s so undoubtedly you, a raw and truthful you, and he gives you no warning before diving right in.

“fuckkk,” you throw your head back, hand flying to grab at the nearest thing in your vicinity— which so happens to be tousled, fluffy hair.

so, first time for everything right? but gojo maneuvers his way into your pussy as if he’d done this before. he starts off with kitten licks, teasing you some more before flattening his tongue and dragging it up and down your lips. he swallows and moans into your cunt, fingers digging deep into the back of your thighs.

he’s practically making out with your pussy. he doesn’t neglect any area, not even the clit surprisingly, as he latches his lips to the bundle of nerves and lightly nibbles. now that has your back arching and pushing his head deeper into you. if there was a way to go in life, he’d gladly take this death.

he’s so painfully hard it hurts, unable to control the way his hips grind against the bed frame. your scent is driving him feral, the way you tug on his hair harshly has his balls tightening and the way you cry out his name makes him want to imprint his name inside of you.

“s-satoru!” oh god, you’ve done it. you finally said his first name and he’s this close to painting his briefs white in shame. he continues to flick his tongue inside your hole and similar strokes to his humping. “you’re doin’ s’gooddd baby, shit!”

keep praising him and he’s gonna bust. he lifts himself away from your pussy, eyeing the gooey center almost offensively, “why the fuck do you taste so good?” he lands a wad of spit down, as he brings two digits to properly rub his saliva into your essence. the sounds it produces are so wet, it’s damn near filthy. he clicks his tongue, “seriously. ‘s makin’ me mad almost.” he slaps at your cunt twice, watching how your spray down his wrist.

“you s-sure this is your first, hnng, time?” you accuse, to the best of your abilities, as you feel him slip a finger in. you’re so lubricated, the slip inside was easy. pushing past that first ring of muscle, he’s pumping in and out of your cunt with precision, curling his digit as if he’s aiming to find a specific area. “y’know too much— mmph, fuckin’ liar.”

when he thrusts into a specific angle, your thighs tremble terribly around his head. he smirks, found it. “watched a lotta porn.” and he isn’t lying, he thinks back to how he studied the arts of cunningulus, and recalls the double combo. he has to try it, so he’s back to sucking and nibbling at your clit while adding an extra finger inside.

“oh my goddd,” you whine, feeling your limbs liquify in heat from every extremity. he pushes your knee further into your chest, and so you grab ahold of both your thighs. he hums approvingly, dragging his free hand along the soft skin of your legs. “don’t— don’t stop, please don’t stop,”

your toes are curled, back off the mattress and the pain in his scalp is shooting straight down to his cock. he’s rutting and rutting into the wooden frame, the flat surface painfully teasing though it does do the job. or maybe he has you to blame.

he feels saliva dripping down his chin, the way his tongue slides into your folds and feels his knuckles in there. his fingers move in scissoring motions, rotating circles, in and out— all the while repeatedly attacking your golden spot.

you severely underestimated him, and can barely process the orgasm that rips through you when he presses a hand onto your lower belly, “‘m cumming, fuck, ngh, don’t stop—” and you wail, fingernails clawing intensely into his tresses, torn between pushing him away and pulling him in closer. he decides to make that decision for you, stuffing himself as deep as possible to not miss a single drop, and your thighs clench against his ears.

so, gojo satoru is a shameless man. as you flood into his mouth and onto his face, grinding out your orgasm and using him as nothing but a toy for your own high— somewhere along the lines, he feels his briefs are sticky. he moans sluttily into your pussy, hips twitching incessantly as his cock shoots loads of nut into his boxers.

it feels like an eternity yet simultaneously a second when you’ve come down from your high, body twitching as gojo slows down his movements, his finger pumps gradually lessening in intensity and the kitten licks on your abused clit coming to a halt.

his face is soaked. his skin feels moist and damp, a thick air of humidity beginning to grow in the room, but he genuinely couldn’t care less. his eyes are stuck on you, limbs sprawled out limply against your bed, your chest heaving, tiny breaths coming out of your mouth.

he slides out his aching fingers, and pops them back in his mouth, tongue wrapping around his digits so eagerly, basking in your taste once more. absolutely divine,

“christ, i’d make a nasty pornstar.”

gojo won the poll. . . everybody act surprised (°_°)