#here’s your perfect part 1

[imaginedreamwrite]

Here’s Your Perfect: Part 1

The plain and dark dyed fabric was nothing significant and neither was your state as you slipped it over your head and tightened the stays in the front, the laces are as plain and ordinary as the dress you are given.

Your father, mother and brother are expecting you down in the sitting room of your homely chateau, the previous week’s ball in which most women were matched or at the very least given offers, had produced little excitement for you.

The only exception was the news that your mother and father had found someone for you, two men who were older than you had anticipated and had refused a dower. Instead, they had given your parents a great lump sum of money to take you off their hands and it was with that news that the rumours started.

The ladies you should have been in social circles with started talking amongst themselves about the fate you would meet as a wedded whore. That was your fate one way or another, for a woman like you with no other prospects, you would either become a whore to any man who would dole out some pennies for your warmth or you would become a whore in the marriage bed.

It was what was expected of someone like you, someone who had not been declared a bountiful beauty with men fawning over you. Your mother and your father should have been, and truly were, elated to even be rid of you. The offer was accepted and you were as good as sold to two men you had never met, cast away upon two men whose tempers or natures could have been uglier and more devastating than even you could have imagined.

Since you had learned of the arrangement, and you had been given little hope to run anywhere from your fate, you had spent more time with your mind between pages of novels than you had with other people. You would often find yourself escaping to a world where everything was set in ink and contrived between thick stock with sturdy bindings.

It was obtuse of you to think that you could forever escape the world around you with that of fiction, just as it would have been a disservice to your mind to think that you could have remained a spinster your entire life.

Your mother and father would just as rather cast you off to be rid of you as they would have been to send you to the workhouse. They didn’t see the value in a woman who was as unjustly triggering as you, even if you were their only daughter.

Where men had liked full bosoms and gentle curves that could be cupped in a man’s hands, you were too gifted in the vivacious manner of your appearance, with heavier breasts than were desired and more weight around your hips and backside.

You were a woman with fuller curves that could not be hidden in your everyday life given the style of fashion and the emphasis on looking sleek and feminine. And your mother and father had contained enough pride not to sully their namesakes by sending you to a poor man to be married.

They would rather you be a whore to any common man than a wife to a peasant.

“You don’t carry great wealth either, father.” The comment was made, the barb had sunk into your parent’s reputations while they had clung to the societal ladder they were placed on with every possible ounce of their strength.

They were just important and dignified enough to be allowed in their society, to be allowed to attend balls with the nobles and hope their children would marry up. Having you, their rather beastly daughter married off was an added bonus to them.

Your father and mother could then focus on your brother by having him seduce as many eligible noble daughters as he could. It was their goal to rid themselves of their greatest disappointment and win over nobles higher than themselves with their son.

“You are nothing desirable, you will be made a whore and you will die a whore.” There was no great effort extended upon you, there was no small measure taken to make you appear to be something you weren’t.

You were given a plain and dark blue dress that was woven with familiar dark thread, there was nothing to impress with the stays and the belt that was made to cinch your waist. The corset was bound comfortably, not in comparison to some other ladies’ personal choice, and yet despite the cut of the dress and the corset’s design, the size of your chest was not hidden. Neither were the curves of your waist and your backside.

“You’ll finally be rid of me, mother.” The comment you had made in regards to your mother had echoed on the staircase as you descended the stairs, there wasn’t a moment of regret over the way she had treated you, neither was there regret when she had the audacity to look appalled over your comment.

It was only when you had seen the surprise in her eyes that you were made aware of your future husbands talking quietly amongst your father and brother. Then you had understood that not only had your comment been heard by your company, but it had raised questions about their familial circle.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. I am your mother-“ She reached for you, she set her hand upon your shoulder and you rebuffed her with a swift smack to her hand, the crack of her knuckles against the wall stirring more curiosity from the guests.

“You never wanted me to be your daughter, don’t bother showing care now mother.” You lifted your skirts so as not to trip on the stairs and hurried down the remaining steps, scurrying around the corner before coming to a direct stop.

Both men were settled in the small sitting room nearest the fireplace, both of them staring your father down with contrived suspicion and mild disbelief. They were looking upon him and your brother as if they were trying to piece together the men and woman who had spent the greatest portion of their respective lives trying to gain favours from people who did not want them and had no need for them.

They were dressed in fine cloth and tunics, a touch of furs on the darker-haired man who had a knife set across his lap, and the regal stature of the man whose hair could have been considered dark blonde or light brunette. Both of their beards had been speckled with grey and white, a few streaks that had rendered them wise with age and still beautiful enough to steal the hearts of any one dame they had come across.

“Y/N,” your father had cast a look over his shoulder, nearly grimacing while his hands had shaken, “there seems to be a mistake. The men who offered for your hand-“

“Do not make us fools.” The brunette had spoken with ice in his voice and a mean sneer forming on his face. “You do not want to push us past our limits.”

“The men who offered money for that whore-“

“Watch your tongue boy, or it may be removed from your mouth.” The regal-looking man had stood.

He had risen to his feet and straightened out the tunic that was well formed across his chest and shoulders, the tapered edge toward his hips and thighs bringing your attention to his height that was more substantial than your father and brother combined.

“Y/N,” he stepped toward you, stood in front of you and addressed you first with the bow of his head as if he was speaking to royalty before his eyes, and then he grasped your hand to place a kiss against your knuckles, “you are more breathtaking than I remember.”

“I don’t…” your eyebrows had become furrowed and your lips had pursed, “forgive my confusion but I don’t remember ever meeting you.”

The tunic he wore was rich in colour, well suited to the colour of his skin. It had brought out the depths of his eyes and was paired well with dark breeches and tall riding boots. His hair was brushed back, long enough to dust his shoulders and his hand was warm as it held yours. He was a man that would always remain beautiful, time had only aided his natural charm and attractiveness.

“I could never forget someone like you, but I suppose your lack of knowledge about me is hardly your fault.” His words were sent as barbs toward your father, mother and brother. “I’ve made my fortunes far from this hellhole, in the north where I own portions of land-“

“Lord Levinson,” you had finally hit recognition, reminiscing over the conversations you had heard months ago about the wealthy lord who had provided most of the allocated food resources for the kingdom, “my apologies-“

“You do not bow your head for me.” He cupped your chin and tilted your head up, studying you with warmth in his eyes. “You heard of me, but you don’t remember how we met?”

You remembered hearing of him although you didn’t recall personally meeting the man who was now here to wed you. Well, one of the men who had paid your father and mother for the right to have your hand.

“I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologize, dewdrop.” He smiled, soft and charmingly. “I don’t suppose you remember hearing of a mercenary’s reputation-“

At his words, the other man had stood and approached you, the one who had been wearing furs along with his tunic.

His hair was longer than Ari’s and had been plaited in a simple braid to keep it out of his face, like Ari his hair was streaked and littered with silver and grey. His eyes were far bluer than Ari’s, the unrestricted azure depths were just as captivating. He had a few scars on his face, none that took away from his beauty or ruggish charm, and there was a glove on one hand that made you wonder if there was some kind of injury to his appendage.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” he had grasped your hand and kissed your knuckles like Ari, the two of them revelling in the intake of air and the steady rise and fall of your chest, “but please call me Bucky. Ari was right, it has been too long since we have seen you.”

“We didn’t agree to this! If we had known that it was you offering for her hand-!” Your father stood abruptly, and with anger had raised an accusatory finger toward the two men. “You have cheated me out of a fortune-“

“We made an offer and sent representatives of our business to have the offer accepted. If you didn’t have the good sense to recognize the wax seals on sturdy letters then it is your fault and your fault alone.” Ari had communicated with a calm nature, not backing down for a moment as your father’s sneer and rage increased.

“You stole property-!”

“Continuing to address your daughter as property is done with distaste.” Ari had stepped forward while ushering you with a steady hand toward Bucky, briefly watching you until you were in between himself and your other future husband.

“If you won’t refrain from addressing our future wife with the kind of respect you would lavish upon us then like your son, your tongue will be removed from your mouth.”

“You have no right-!” Your brother had stepped forward, believing that the two of them together could have stood against the two men come to gather you.

“I have every right to tend to my wife as I see fit. I have every right to defend my wife as I see fit.” He squared his jaw and his shoulders, rising to his full height. “You set a price for your daughter and it was agreed upon. She is no longer your ‘property’, at this moment she is mine.”

Silence fell upon your father, nothing was said and no one had moved until the door to your familial home had opened and a sturdy trunk had been carried inside. Ari had stepped out of the way as it was set upon the wooden floor, keeping himself between your father and yourself, and then he nudged the edge of the trunk.

“Your payment for your daughter, under the condition that if you should ever try and test me or our wife again, I will have your head.” The threat was made, and then Ari had slipped his arm in with yours and cast his eyes upon you, studying you. “Is there anything you need to retrieve?”

“I’d rather burn it all.” Your eyes grew wider when there was nothing less than stalwart devotion and adoration, protective instincts at the forefront of his eyes.

“Good. We have things ready for you at our home, you’ll need and want for nothing.”

“You whore!” Your brother screamed at you, he lashed out at you as you were escorted out the door by Ari and Bucky, his comment met by the sharp sting of your father’s hand upon his cheek.

“Shut your mouth, boy! Lest we all have our heads clean cut from our bodies!”

Permanent Tags List: @jennmurawski13-writes @beardburnsupersoldiers @daydreaminginthechaos @rebekahdawkins @supraveng @bookfrog242 @old-enough-to-know-better73 @valsworldofcreativity @rainbowkisses31 @loveitorleaveit20 @alexakeyloveloki @socalgem1124 @mogaruke @dreamlessinparis @frisky975 @dispatchvampire @hereforbuckyandsteve @jesgisborne @fairybnha3 @hallecarey1 @tang082646 @mrslokibarnesrogers @deputy-videogamer @posionivy0061 @loving-life-my-way @kaylamcd2000 @mercyy98 @undecidedsworld @rootcrop @whatinthestyles @slutforsteve @cornmousequeen @rededfoxy @yagurl-snow @glimmering-darling-dolly @patzammit @buckymydarlingangel @missusbarnes-rogers @andy-is-gay @nervousfandom @rileyloves5 @emi11ie @carelessreadersstuff @readingandwritingandreading @cynic-spirit @inkedaztec @gh0stgurl @mansaaay @cats-and-sheep @pono-pura-vida @seitmai @teambarnes72

[dollypopup]

y'all can all cancel me (again) for this, but if there's even a SHRED of 'who should I pick?' from Penelope in season 3, I am tuning out SO fast because like. . .sorry not sorry, there IS no choice. Debling is some crusty OC suitor she barely even knows and Colin is a man who she has been so supposedly in love with to the point where she'd ruin her entire family's reputation to have a potential love story with him. Penelope and Colin have background, years of knowing each other, intimacy that few people in the Ton can boast of having (letters, conversations about purpose, fights and arguments and makeups) and her and Debling have. . .a dance or two at a ball because he's a rebound for Penelope's broken heart. he means nothing. he has no nuance, he has no weight to the story, he is such an afterthought to me. either I wanna see Penelope going 'you know what? I don't even LIKE this dude. he's. . .fine, but I don't care about him even a shred as much as I care about Colin' or the INSTANT Colin's like 'you know what? we should get married' if it's not an immediate 'say less, you're already my husband, try returning me without the receipt, Debling whomst?' then I don't want it!

like. . .it's just so frustrating to see all the 'I hope Debling sweeps her off her feet and she rejects Colin's proposal and she makes him work for it and and and-' nonsense from the fandom and it's always tagged and no matter how many times I block it, it just keeps popping up. I go into the Polin tag for POLIN. I don't give a SHIT about a male love interest other than Colin. Not one. Not a shred. Not an iota.

and also. . .Debling has the 'benefit' of not having depth, or character traits, or HISTORY, so peeps can project onto him however they want, but I'm calling it now, there is NOTHING he could do or be that would make me like him more than Colin. Colin will always hit different, and I will always love him more. and if Pen's not on that same page? lol bye

you want me to believe Penelope and Colin are soulmates and it's romance for her to hem and haw about how difficult a decision it is for her to marry a stranger who knows barely anything about her. . .

when Marina was out here dropping banger lines like 'You were the only man with which I could see myself being happy' and 'I do not care about any of these men, where is Colin?'? like hello??? and she wasn't even fully in love with him!!!! but we'll demonize her until the cows come home in our fandom and make her the villain in Polin's love story for DARING to get in between Polin, yet Debling, a white man, is a darling dear perfect prince for getting in between Polin? existing in our fandom solely so Penelope can be like 'lol, Colin ain't shit, let me entertain any and everyone else'?

if that's the direction it goes then, ten toes down and on my mama, she doesn't deserve Colin and she can move because I'm on my way to court him my damn self

and that's that on that

[ladyelainehilfur]

hm...ngl, I think a lot of modern popular opinion and trend is pretty degenerative. How is it progress if you're just going backwards?

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[novella-november]

Hate AI, but love writing challenges?

Want to take part in a global, fun project to write a Novella in one month?

Grab some friends, and take part in Novella November, by writing 1,000 words a day for the month of November, ending with a 30,000 word Novella to test and stretch your novel-writing skills!

Your goal is not perfection, but merely getting into the habit of writing a litte bit every single day :D

No website, no sign-ups -- Just a community initiative to write using only your own word!

What are the rules? Just Three so far!

#1 - No AI

#2 - No Plagiarizing

#3 - Wordcount for the month should only come from what you write during the month.

What does that mean?

Only words written during November should go towards your Wordcount for the month... but! Feel free to use your 30k words as a continuation of previous writing, or just make it the first 30k words in a longer novel!

Don't think you can write a whole entire 30k word story? Write a series of short stories that total up to 30k!

Not ready to write original works yet? Write a 30k word fanfiction that you can post after the month is over!

Share your writing experience, tips, encouragement, and questions in the #Novella November tag!

---

EDIT, from the tags: Want a progress tracker? Track your progress with TrackBear!

https://trackbear.app/

Don't have a word processor? Use LibreOffice , the free and open-source alternative to Microsoft Word!

Want to organize/storyboard your Novel and don't want to pay a subscription? Try 7writer by Simon Haynes!

Want to be able to listen to your story aloud for proofreading using TTS (text to speech)? Try Balabolka!

Or, create some custom progress / Goal Cards in advance you can fill out as you reach word goals! For ideas and templates, search this blog for "goal cards" :D

Want to do a writing challenge in more than just November? Check out my ideas here for year round challenges to keep you writing consistently! Got feedback? Send it in, I'd love to see everyone's ideas!

---

EDIT 2: I almost forgot to mention, if you are unable to write/type your story, you can also narrate/dictate your story to your preferred recording device!

If you're doing a Recording only and it doesn't automatically generate a transcript, it would obviously be hard to judge the word count -- but you're also working with a lot of obstacles, so I'd say if you're able to complete your story via voice recording from start to finish, you've definitely achieved the goal!

[montereybayaquarium]

Peek-a-floof, pufflings!

We’re egg-cited to welcome the newest additions to our tufted puffin colony! These two fluffy puffin chicks (a.k.a. pufflings!) recently hatched here as part of a Species Survival Plan managed by the Association of Zoos and Aquariums that oversees the health and breeding of nearly 200 tufted puffins across 15 zoos and aquariums.

The adorable, fuzzy voids will grow up on exhibit, assisted by our un-beak-lievable aviculture and veterinary teams. You can peek at these precious pufflings among the diving birds in the Open Sea. It might be a little hard to spot them inside their burrows and they’ll be heading behind the scenes for a little while soon.  But don’t worry! They’ll be back on exhibit once they’re fully fledged. 

Chick #2’s name is… Yuzu! But we need your kelp naming Chick #1! Our animal care team has picked three options and we’re asking YOU to help us choose the perfect name by voting in the poll! ⬇️

[ot3]

HOT OR NOT? POKEMON

There are a lot of pokemon out there. Some of them are good. Some of them are bad.

the world of pokemon is a beautiful one filled with many "types" of pokemon. some pokemon are steel. some pokemon are bugs. some of them are even normal. lately i have found myself thinking, which pokemon is the most steel? which pokemon is the most bugs? which pokemon is normal? and today i am proud to say i have answered these questions and more.

It can be hard to decide, since there are so many of them, but luckily I'm here to make that decision for you. i have definitively chosen the most representative (most) least representative (least) personal favorite (best) and least favorite (worst) design of every pokemon type. and i will now explain it to you in detail

now keep in mind we are ONLY talking about design here. lore is not coming into play whatsoever. if you want to explain to me why xyz pokemon is actually the most/least/best whatevertype pokemon because it's based on this or that: i don't care. that's not why we're here. we're judging books by their covers today

Normal Type

Most - Herdier: This is just a regular ass dog, which may be considered one of the normalest things on the planet. It doesn't get much more normal than this, folks.

Least - Arceus: If i saw this thing it would be one of the least normal days of my life.

Best - Skitty: This is just a perfect design, there isn't anything bad you could possibly say about it and if you tried I'd hit you. Look at that face. ^_^

Worst - Castform (Normal): It looks like either a pair of balls or caspar with a fat rack and in either cae it's just kind of unappealing to look at.

Grass Type

Most - Shaymin (Land Forme): Although 'grass' a type represents all plant life, I am choosing to interpret it literally here. Shaymin is the grassiest of all grass pokemon, and although this is not part of the criteria, it is also very cute so lets all take a moment to appreciate that

Least - Kartana: this is an origami swordsman bug thing which to me isn't really Grass at all. I do love the design but it's not very grassy. yeah paper comes from plants but gun to my head i would have not guessed grass type for this pokemon in top 3, maybe not even top 5.

Best - Wo-Chien: I just think this guy represents a ton of pokemon design philosophy at its best. It has a very strong sense of color, good use of shape, is just a tiny bit strange, and most importantly is a kind of Creature i would like to hang out with

Worst - Calyrex: The more realistically proportioned hare head with the strange body does NOT work for me. I'm not mad about the massive berry on top at all but why the perfectly round torso? Why the stubby little arms? Why the noodle legs with the thigh high boots? I think you could fix this one pretty easily ultimately but it really needs fixin

Water Type

Most - Wailord: Although there is no actual water in wailord's design, the mere presence of a whale implies the necessity for an amount of water that is almost as catastrophically overwhelming in its absence as its presence.

Least - Palkia: Other than looking like an anthropomorphized speedboat palkia is not particularly aquatic in its nature

Best - Lapras: There's a lot of great water pokemon designs but i think lapras is firing on all cylinders. Really a classic pokemon design.

Worst - Quaquaval: There are a lot of pokemon that are uncomfortably anthropomorphic and there have been since gen 1. It's not something I'm against in concept at all and it's produced some of my favorite pokemon designs of all time. But unfortunately when it flops it flops hard. Seriously, what are these proportions? Perfectly fine idea for a pokemon just executed with shocking inelegance.

Fire Type

Most - Gigantamax Cinderace: This is simply the most amount of fire you're getting in a fire pokemon. Biggest bang for your buck

Least - Blacephalon: Another ultra beast design that is, as a design, excellent, but i would not be able to guess the typing on the first try if you put a gun to my head

Best - Chandelure: What if a haunted chandelier was your friend. Enough said. This thing just rules

Worst - Cinderace: Everything I said about quaquaval is equally true here.

Fighting Type

Most - Machamp: He's a wrestler with four arms this is as fighting as fighting gets

Least - Meditite: This is a small child in an open, peaceful stance. I sense no violence here. If he were to fight, he would have been provoked.

Best - Mienshao: effortlessly elegant design that conveys the aesthetics of martial arts with the simplified animal anatomy and strong shape language that represents pokemon at it's best

Worst - Gurdurr: This entire line is profoundly uncomfortable to me but the prominent near-bursting veins and inexplicable hourglass figure are at their worst here.

Flying Type

Most - Altaria: This is a bird made out of clouds, which is the most flyingest a thing could be.

Least - Shaymin (Sky Forme): This dude doesnt look like its feet are getting off the ground anytime soon if i'm being quite honest

Best - Sigilyph: Great example of what flying type can look out when you branch away form birds. The stranger and less organic feeling pokemon are collectively some of my favorite and i think sigilyph is one of the more effective ones.

Worst - Enamorus: 😬

Electric Type

Most - Xurkitree: The Exposed Copper Wiring Pokemon. Great stuff. Also a banger design on top of being the most.

Least - Alolan Geodude: I understand the eyebrows and hair are supposed to be gatherings of lead sand but its still not giving electrivity. it just looks like a rock, one of the least electric things on the planet

Best - Rotom (All Forms): I wanted to put every rotom here but there was no way to arrange that easily. Just picture all the other rotoms here too. Rotom is awesome it's normal design is just cute and fun and then all of the other appliances are just a great concept.

Worst - Elektrike: Not unforgivably bad or anything but just kind of a design that doesn't convey a lot of information or have any appeal to it. Completely forgettable.

Poison Type

Most - Galarian Weezing: This guy is the most poisonous possible poison you could have. This guys hobby is global warming. This guy is dumping carcinogens into the river. And not just incidentally. He's ideologically motivated AND gets pleasure from it.

Least - Oddish: Not only do I not believe eating an oddish would poison me, i think oddish is healthy. I think it's good for you.

Best - Ivysaur: It's impossible to truly extract the nostalgia from my feelings towards the gen 1 pokemon designs but I think we can all agree. Ivysaur looks great

Worst - Eternatus: Does not even look like it belongs in the same franchise as anything else on this list so far. And on top of that, it looks stupid. 0/10. I do like the version of it that's an evil hand though.

Psychic Type

Most - Mega Alakazam: This dude looks like he should be airbrushed on a black velvet tapestry. I can't imagine anything more psychic than that.

Least - Exeggcute: Picking a least psychic pokemon was a hard one, because although we have some specific idea of what a psychic is, it's hard to say what one isn't. Ultimately, I don't think a handful of cracked eggs feels very psychic to me. I'm not sure what they feel like to me to be honest.

Best - Deoxys: Take a note, people, this is how you design a pokemon that's 'cool'

Worst - Necrozma: Take a note, people, this is not how you design a pokemon that's 'cool'

Ground Type

Most - Dugtrio: Dugtrios presence in the area is synonymous with the ground. It is not the ground itself but it is of the ground. It will never leave the ground. We will never know dugtrio in its entirety, we will only see as much of it as the ground lets us.

Least - Whiscash: That's a fish, it shouldn't be on the ground.

Best - Trapinch and Claydol: I really really wanted to avoid ties here but please indulge me just this one. These are two creatures that are perfectly made but each in its own distinct way.

Worst - Zygarde (Complete Forme): Overdesigned as fuckkkkkk

Ice Type

Most - Avalugg: This guy's ice.

Least AND Worst - Jynx: Not only is Jynx not particularly icy, changing the skintone was really not enough to redeem this design.

Best - Glaceon: There aren't any bad eveelutions. That said, glaceon isn't my favorite. However in the contect of ice pokemon I think it does a great job of using shape language and colors that feel icy without needing to actually resort to just chucking ice onto it. A lot of ice pokemon are either a little bit too on the nose or just outside of my taste bracket

Bug Type

Most - Caterpie: Very bug.

Least - Pineco: this is a pinecone with eyes, which is different from a bug.

Best - Leavanny: Look at that winning smile :)

Worst - Buzzwole: TOO SWOLE!!!!

Rock Type

Most - Onix: You may think it would have been geodude, who is just a rock with arms, but onix is actually just a rock with a face which is then attached to SEVERAL MORE ROCKS. That's as rock as it gets.

Least - Sudowoodo: You can't pull the wool over my eyes. That's a tree.

Best - Lunatone: What if the moon was kind of creepy and also your pet.

Worst - Terrakion: Think this motherfcukers just ugly

Dragon Type

Most - Mega Charizard X: We all know Charizard is a dragon but that's only sometimes true. When it's true, it's very true.

Least - Tatsugiri (All Forms): Why is a piece of sushi a dragon. I do support it don't get me wrong. But I'm not exactly following the throughline

Best - Rayquaza: I think sometimes the legendary pokemon end up in the Too Much category but I think rayquaza pushes riiight up against that edge without going over it.

Worst - Dracovish: Shitting on the mix and match fossilized pokemon feels kind of like low hanging fruit. I honestly think they're kind of fun in concept. But this just looks stupid

Ghost Type

Most - Haunter: Self explanatory

Least - Decidueye: A very fun design but it feels like its got much too life in it to be ghostly.

Best - Polteageist: I'm insanely biased because I love ghosts and have a teapot collection so when i saw they put a ghost in a teapot i was overjoyed and it became my favorite pokemon as a whole instantly.

Worst - Gholdengo: Looks like the mascot for a string cheese brand

Dark Type

Most - Guzzlord: Dark type in japanese is Evil type which certainly has different connotations. In either case, I think whatever it means for a pokemon to be dark or evil is embodied here.

Least - Scraggy: I don't think this guy is dark or sinister at all.

Best - Mega Absol: I'm just so charmed by mega absol because it is indistinguishable from the kind of thing a teen with a deviantart would have drawn. It's like an edgy emo fairy white haired anime boy angel sparkledog. But despite that it still has a lot of aesthetic integrity and manages to only be a bit over the top in a way i think it's suited for.

Worst - Mega Sharpedo: This cluttered design pretty much undoes anything that's successful about sharpedo's standard form

Steel Type

Most - Melmetal: the unrelenting metalness of this guy is not even tanted by any even vaguelt biological components

Least - Wormadam (Trash Cloak): Not a single visibly metallic part on this pokemon

Best - Magearna: A clockwork magical girl... what a great design.

Worst - Varoom: Something about this guy looks agonized to be alive. And I feel that agony too. It looks like a motorcycle that was in the process of being transmogrified into a creature but the process was incorrectly terminated halfway through and now it lives a cursed and painful existence.

Fairy Type

Most - Mega Diancie: this thing could give me a quest to save the world and i would listen to it

Least - Galarian Weezing: I also wanted to do no duplicates but once again I will ask you for my forgiveness. Clearly this thing is the least fairy fairy. Not only is it unfairy, I think it tortures fairies. I think it's the villain in a movie where a bunch of children have to rescue a gang of captured fairies who are being used to power a Pollution Factory. I think this things grinds fairies up into dust and uses them to line the rim of its cocktail glass.

Best - Klefki: Klefki is soooo fun. I feel like if klefki was a ghost pokemon it wouldn't hit the same way because the idea of a haunted keyring is fun, sure, but it's notwhere near as good as a Whimsical Enchanted Keyring.

Worst - Zacian: this thing could give me a quest to save the world and im not sure i would listen to it. man the legendary dogs are just kind of a mess aesthetically

Okay that's all of the types. I don't really have a way to end this post. Of course there are a bunch of really good designs and really weird and cluttered ones that I didn't get a chance to talk about but. Idk man I can't rate every pokemon design there's just too many of them. there you have it.

[whateveriwant]

Ok I lied. Here’s some more Simon fucking himself stupid because apparently he has a chokehold on me. (prev: part 1, part 2)

You’d think a man that regularly fucks his own brains mushy would have a poor performance in the bedroom, right? For a normal man, perhaps, but this is Simon Riley we’re talking about; ‘vigor’ is his middle name.

So even after going for multiple rounds, cycling through multiple positions, and getting covered in multiple fluids, your boyfriend is as ready to go as ever… physically speaking, that is. Because as far as mentally goes, he dropped out a long time ago, somewhere between taking you on your back and then on your knees.

Now you’ve reached the part of the night you like to call your ‘wind down phase’, where you’re just looking for one last, easy release before you throw in the towel. But where you’re tired, sensitive as hell, and already feeling tomorrow’s soreness starting to creep in, Simon’s still pinching and pawing at you like he can’t get enough.

As you lazily ride him, fingers curled over his thick shoulders, Simon’s own hands are pressed hungrily into the meat of your hips. From where he’s sat against the headboard, his lower back propped up by a pillow or two, he’s in the perfect position to guide you back and forth in his lap.

It’s as you feel the slow approach of your final climax that you begin to pick up the pace a little, only to slow right back down again as a sudden noise has you distracted. It takes you a second to place the sound, but once you recognize it, you’re immediately grinding your movements to a halt.

Simon’s phone only rings when it’s you or his work calling. And seeing the current situation you find yourselves in, you know it’s not the former.

The phone rings and rings, neither one of you bothering to move for it. The call gets sent to voicemail, and for a moment you think that’s all it’s going to be, but as the phone promptly begins to trill again, you know something else is up.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you reach over to the nightstand to grab the device. “It’s John,” you tell your boyfriend, seeing his Captain’s contact flash across the screen. You turn the phone around to show Simon, but it seems he has little interest in it, his grip on your waist unwavering as his phone buzzes away in your hand.

“Should you answer? Could be important,” you say. The boss making back to back calls speaks of urgency, if not emergency. But Simon’s focus lies solely on where your two bodies are connected, a sex-fueled tunnel vision if you ever saw one.

Though one look at Simon’s face tells you he’s in no place to have a meaningful conversation right now, as the phone darkens again, only to then light up for a third time in a row, you know this is serious. So despite the haziness in his eyes and the limpness of his jaw, you decide to answer the phone, putting it on speaker.

There’s silence on the other end for a moment before you hear the deep baritone of Price’s voice calling out. “Simon?” He waits a beat. “Simon, hello?” He tries again when he hears nothing in response.

While Price is kept in limbo, you’re busy trying to rouse your boyfriend back from brain death. “Simon, it’s John,” you whisper to him, hoping to not be heard by the other man on the phone. Unfortunately, Simon gives zero indication he’s heard you, his bleary gaze looking right past you.

“You there, Simon?” Price’s voice crackles over the speaker.

Bringing your hand up, you lightly tap Simon on the cheek. “Baby, it’s John. Your boss,” you whisper again, slightly louder this time.

Again, he offers you no response, just a slow blink, an even slower trickle of drool starting to form at the corner of his mouth.

As you hear another gruff, “Simon?”, being spoken over the phone, your taps become a little more insistent, a little more forceful.

“It’s Price, Si. Price. Captain Price,” you hiss, urgently patting him against the cheek.

Somehow, whether by miracle or sheer force, you’re able to knock Simon’s last two brain cells together and coax forth a vaguely human-sounding reaction from him.

“Priiizzzzze,” Simon rumbles out, a garbled approximation of his Captain’s surname.

The line goes quiet for a beat, and you can almost imagine the man on the other side blinking in confusion. Then, “You alright, Simon?” he asks earnestly. “Now’s not a bad time, is it?”

Thankfully, Simon seems to have regained the smallest hint of his bearings again, and he manages to hum a solid, “Mmmf.”

Price takes a moment to consider what he means by such an ambiguous response, and deciding it translates to ‘Speak freely’, he does just that. “Well, I’m callin’ because we’ve just received word of some new developments comin’ out of Hong Kong. Laswell’ll want to give a full briefing tomorrow mornin’, but essentially–”

And that’s about as far as Simon gets before he checks out again.

As Price continues to lay down the basics for him, Simon’s focus shifts back to what he really desires: the person he’s currently buried to the hilt inside.

His Captain’s droning acts as little more than background noise as Simon reaches up and begins toying with one of your nipples. The action is unexpected (not to mention ill-timed given the circumstances), and you try batting his hand away, even as a pleasurable tweak has you choking back a moan.

However, unfazed, Simon drags his fingers down, down, downwards, slowly tracing the midline of your body until he reaches your throbbing sex. His fingers are warm and slightly rough as he begins to stroke you, applying just the barest of touches, but it’s enough to light your nerves on fire.

This time, it’s harder to stop your moans from spilling forth, and you’re forced to mash your lips together lest you reveal your presence to the Captain still chirping on and on. Your free hand darts down to grab Simon’s wrist, meaning to tug it away, but instead, you find yourself pausing, holding onto him as a shudder wracks up your spine.

You know you should push him away – or, at the very least, tell him to ease up a little – but it just feels so fucking good that you can’t bring yourself to do either.

Besides, even if you were to speak up, would Simon be cognizant enough to heed your words? A quick peek at his expression tells you all you need to know. The lights may be on upstairs, but there is no one home right now to answer the phone.

You can feel the hand between your legs grow wetter and wetter as you start to leak droplets of your arousal. The slippery fluid makes Simon’s fingers glide that much smoother, that much slicker as he rubs you.

Even the way he’s touching you now – the way he’s expertly taking you apart – isn’t the result of conscious decision making by Simon. His movements, however deft, aren’t directed by any true rhyme or reason; they’re pure muscle memory at this point.

Simon’s other hand on your hip starts to rock you against him, and you find it’s getting harder to keep yourself under control. Try as you might to tamp your voice down, your ecstasy soon gets the better of you, and before you can stop it, you’re muttering a less than subtle, “Fuck.”

Immediately, you realize what you’ve done, and you slap a hand over your mouth at your mistake. As Price’s side of the call goes similarly quiet, you squeeze your eyes shut, wanting to kick yourself for your carelessness.

Just as you think the jig is up, however, you catch a lucky break, as not a second later, Price resumes, “–boots on the ground to confirm what these sat images have been pickin’ up.”

The feeling of relief that floods you is almost akin to euphoria, and you exhale deeply (but not loud enough to be picked up over the receiver) as you bring your hand back down.

That was close; way too close for comfort, honestly. And yet, despite how close you just came to exposing yourself, Simon is totally, completely oblivious to it all.

This time when you reach for the wrist between your legs, you successfully tug it away. You feel like you’ve tempted fate enough for one night.

Though Simon puts up zero fight as you remove his hand from your sex, that’s only because he then reaches up and quickly stuffs his slickened fingers into his mouth. His eyes fall shut as he savors the salty taste of your arousal, a sort of blissful wave washing over him as he sucks his fingers clean.

Somehow, though you’re not sure how it’s possible, you swear you can feel him grow even harder where he’s buried inside you. The sensation makes you squirm, wanting to bear down on the fullness within you, but you force yourself to resist the urge to tilt your hips back and forth.

This is almost torture at this point, like you’re caught in some kind of kinky Saw trap. Honestly, you’re not sure how much more of this you can take. But thankfully, it appears you won’t have to endure it for much longer.

“All that’s to say, it looks like our timetable’s been moved up. We’ll be shippin’ out earlier than expected,” Price starts to wind the one-sided conversation down.

Though Simon has been relatively mute this entire time, for some reason, at this moment, he takes the opportunity to let out a long, “Mmmmmm.”

While you know the noise isn’t much more than an appreciative moan at your taste, Price is unaware of that fact, and so he asks, “That’s not a problem, is it, Lieutenant?”

You both wait a few beats for Simon to respond, but with less than a handful of working neurons left in his brain, you figure that’s unlikely to happen. Knowing Price is still expecting an answer and your boyfriend is unable to offer him one, you realize you have to take matters into your own hands once more.

So puffing out your chest and straightening up your spine, you muster up your best Simon impression as you expel a deep, gravelly, “Hmm.” The several seconds that follow find you holding your breath in anticipation, praying to whatever god will listen that Price buys your impersonation.

It’s after he eventually says, “Alright, well, I’ll expect you at 0800 for tomorrow’s brief,” that you breathe again, feeling nearly on the verge of passing out.

Frankly, this whole ordeal has left you exhausted. From having to hide from Price to having to pull one over on him, you feel like your heart is liable to give out any moment now.

If only Simon had been more of a conscious participant in this conversation maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad. You and him could have quietly laughed and swore together in your shared misery. Instead, he’s too preoccupied with squeezing your nipple again between his wet fingers to notice anything’s the matter.

You don’t even bother pushing his hand away this time as you can sense the call is mercifully coming to a close.

“Have a good rest of your night, Simon,” Price says through the speaker.

If you weren’t so wrecked right now, you could almost leap with joy from how utterly relieved you feel. From the moment you answered this call, you thought you’d undoubtedly be found out. Truth be told, you’re not sure how you managed to make it through the past several minutes unheard and undiscovered. All you know is that you did and you’re beyond grateful for that.

But before you can hang up the phone to celebrate, Price has one last thing to say. Just as you’re about to press the end call button, just as you’re about to fling the phone to the far side of the room, just as you’re about to collapse into a boneless heap because you’re finally, finally, finally in the clear, Price gives one last farewell that makes your stomach fall out of your ass.

“And you too, (Y/N).”

The call dies, and you wish you died with it.

[curryshesus]

jeon jungkook fics that had me going feral

hi guys, here's a part 2 to my favorite jjk fics on tumblr! note that many of these fics contain 18+ content. you are responsible for the content you consume! as always, if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, please take a moment to send some love to the authors! part 1 | other bts members

➺ cold nights & blurred lines - by @awrkive

summary: jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

➺ night crawlers - by @alphabetboyluvr

summary: jungkook’s always been good at running. track, field, red lights, shit outta luck. drugs, now, too. but he doesn’t expect to run into you. in your shared lecture halls, sure. maybe. but not down the back alleys of daerim at ass o’clock in the morning. there are only three types of women he ever sees in daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. you aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. he's sure of it. so it then further begs the question: why the fuck are you here?

➺ this is how you fall in love - by @jeonqkooks

summary: after years of drinking and clubbing most days of the week and leaving every gig with a different girl on his arm, jungkook feels what it’s like to want someone with his entire being.

➺ the dilf installments - by @mercurygguk

summary: this series follows jungkook’s life as a divorced father. but wait, how exactly does one balance being a father, a boyfriend, a friend, and a respectable boss at the same time? read the installments below to find out!

➺ ultimatum - by @parkmuse

summary: your pervy, idiotic boyfriend just so happens to also be your friendly neighborhood Spider-man (in bed).

➺ a hero's journey - by @hansolmates

summary: jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story

➺ tempest - by @kooktrash

summary: you’ve always considered your life to be more mundane than you would like to admit. it was a constant cycle of the same things over and over again that when you meet jeon jungkook at a bar, of all places, you didn’t expect to see just how much he would change your life and those around you. he’s got an air of mystery around him with his charming good looks and a violent past that you slowly begun to unravel when it feels like everything is going perfect.

➺ by its cover - by @gimmesumsuga

summary: the one where Jungkook makes a horrifically bad first impression.

➺ slow dancing - by @yoonia

summary: when your countdown appeared on your wrist right in the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.

➺ e s p r e s s o - by @joonberriess

➺ hold me closer - by @ahundredtimesover

summary: when you're asked to look after your parents' house and meet them before they go on vacation, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take the trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager with all the affection that Jungkook shows you, you're still you - a professional trying to make it in the corporate world, and an eldest child trying not to disappoint her parents. And that turns out to be your undoing, as a little blunder causes a rift between you and Jungkook, resulting in a trip that you might as well have messed up… Not if your brother can help it, though.

[physalian]

How to Make Your Writing Less Stiff Part 3

Crazy how one impulsive post has quickly outshined every other post I have made on this blog. Anyway here’s more to consider. Once again, I am recirculating tried-and-true writing advice that shouldn’t have to compromise your author voice and isn’t always applicable when the narrative demands otherwise.

Part 1

Part 2

1. Eliminating to-be verbs (passive voice)

Am/is/are/was/were are another type of filler that doesn’t add anything to your sentences.

There were fireworks in the sky tonight. /// Fireworks glittered in the sky tonight.

My cat was chirping at the lights on the ceiling. /// My cat chirped at the lights on the ceiling.

She was standing /// She stood

He was running /// He ran

Also applicable in present tense, of which I’ve been stuck writing lately.

There are two fish-net goals on either end of the improvised field. /// Two fish-net goals mark either end of the improvised field.

For once, it’s a cloudless night. /// For once, the stars shine clear.

Sometimes the sentence needs a little finagling to remove the bad verb and sometimes you can let a couple remain if it sounds better with the cadence or syntax. Generally, they’re not necessary and you won’t realize how strange it looks until you go back and delete them (it also helps shave off your word count).

Sometimes the to-be verb is necessary. You're writing in past-tense and must convey that.

He was running out of time does not have the same meaning as He ran out of time, and are not interchangeable. You'd have to change the entire sentence to something probably a lot wordier to escape the 'was'. To-be verbs are not the end of the world.

2. Putting character descriptors in the wrong place

I made a post already about motivated exposition, specifically about character descriptions and the mirror trope, saying character details in the wrong place can look odd and screw with the flow of the paragraph, especially if you throw in too many.

She ties her long, curly, brown tresses up in a messy bun. /// She ties her curls up in a messy brown bun. (bonus alliteration too)

Generally, I see this most often with hair, a terrible rule of threes. Eyes less so, but eyes have their own issue. Eye color gets repeated at an exhausting frequency. Whatever you have in your manuscript, you could probably delete 30-40% of the reminders that the love interest has baby blues and readers would be happy, especially if you use the same metaphor over and over again, like gemstones.

He rolled his bright, emerald eyes. /// He rolled his eyes, a vibrant green in the lamplight.

To me, one reads like you want to get the character description out as fast as possible, so the hand of the author comes in to wave and stop the story to give you the details. Fixing it, my way or another way, stands out less as exposition, which is what character descriptions boil down to—something the audience needs to know to appreciate and/or understand the story.

3. Lacking flow between sentences

Much like sentences that are all about the same length with little variety in syntax, sentences that follow each other like a grocery list or instruction manual instead of a proper narrative are difficult to find gripping.

Jack gets out a stock pot from the cupboard. He fills it with the tap and sets it on the stove. Then, he grabs russet potatoes and butter from the fridge. He leaves the butter out to soften, and sets the pot to boil. He then adds salt to the water.

From the cupboard, Jack drags a hefty stockpot. He fills it with the tap, adds salt to taste, and sets it on the stove.

Russet potatoes or yukon gold? Jack drums his fingers on the fridge door in thought. Russet—that’s what the recipe calls for. He tosses the bag on the counter and the butter beside it to soften.

This is just one version of a possible edit to the first paragraph, not the end-all, be-all perfect reconstruction. It’s not just about having transitions, like ‘then’, it’s about how one sentence flows into the next, and you can accomplish better flow in many different ways.

4. Getting too specific with movement.

I don’t see this super often, but when it happens, it tends to be pretty bad. I think it happens because writers feel the need to overcompensate and over-clarify on what’s happening. Remember: The more specific you get, the more your readers are going to wonder what’s so important about these details. This is fiction, so every detail matters.

A ridiculous example:

Jack walks over to his closet. He kneels down at the shoe rack and tugs his running shoes free. He walks back to his desk chair, sits down, and ties the laces.

Unless tying his shoes is a monumental achievement for this character, all readers would need is:

Jack shoves on his running shoes.

*quick note: Do not add "down" after the following: Kneels, stoops, crouches, squats. The "down" is already implied in the verb.

This also happens with multiple movements in succession.

Beth enters the room and steps on her shoelace, nearly causing her to trip. She kneels and ties her shoes. She stands upright and keeps moving.

Or

Beth walks in and nearly trips over her shoelace. She sighs, reties it, and keeps moving.

Even then, unless Beth is a chronically clumsy character or this near-trip is a side effect of her being late or tired (i.e. meaningful), tripping over a shoelace is kind of boring if it does nothing for her character. Miles Morales’ untied shoelaces are thematically part of his story.

Sometimes, over-describing a character’s movement is meant to show how nervous they are—overthinking everything they’re doing, second-guessing themselves ad nauseam. Or they’re autistic coded and this is how this character normally thinks as deeply methodical. Or, you’re trying to emphasize some mundanity about their life and doing it on purpose.

If you’re not writing something where the extra details service the character or the story at large, consider trimming it.

—

These are *suggestions* and writing is highly subjective. Hope this helps!

[byoldervine]

Types Of Writer’s Block (And How To Fix Them)

1. High inspiration, low motivation. You have so many ideas to write, but you just don’t have the motivation to actually get them down, and even if you can make yourself start writing it you’ll often find yourself getting distracted or disengaged in favour of imagining everything playing out

Try just bullet pointing the ideas you have instead of writing them properly, especially if you won’t remember it afterwards if you don’t. At least you’ll have the ideas ready to use when you have the motivation later on

2. Low inspiration, high motivation. You’re all prepared, you’re so pumped to write, you open your document aaaaand… three hours later, that cursor is still blinking at the top of a blank page

RIP pantsers but this is where plotting wins out; refer back to your plans and figure out where to go from here. You can also use your bullet points from the last point if this is applicable

3. No inspiration, no motivation. You don’t have any ideas, you don’t feel like writing, all in all everything is just sucky when you think about it

Make a deal with yourself; usually when I’m feeling this way I can tell myself “Okay, just write anyway for ten minutes and after that, if you really want to stop, you can stop” and then once my ten minutes is up I’ve often found my flow. Just remember that, if you still don’t want to keep writing after your ten minutes is up, don’t keep writing anyway and break your deal - it’ll be harder to make deals with yourself in future if your brain knows you don’t honour them

4. Can’t bridge the gap. When you’re stuck on this one sentence/paragraph that you just don’t know how to progress through. Until you figure it out, productivity has slowed to a halt

Mark it up, bullet point what you want to happen here, then move on. A lot of people don’t know how to keep writing after skipping a part because they don’t know exactly what happened to lead up to this moment - but you have a general idea just like you do for everything else you’re writing, and that’s enough. Just keep it generic and know you can go back to edit later, at the same time as when you’re filling in the blank. It’ll give editing you a clear purpose, if nothing else

5. Perfectionism and self-doubt. You don’t think your writing is perfect first time, so you struggle to accept that it’s anything better than a total failure. Whether or not you’re aware of the fact that this is an unrealistic standard makes no difference

Perfection is stagnant. If you write the perfect story, which would require you to turn a good story into something objective rather than subjective, then after that you’d never write again, because nothing will ever meet that standard again. That or you would only ever write the same kind of stories over and over, never growing or developing as a writer. If you’re looking back on your writing and saying “This is so bad, I hate it”, that’s generally a good thing; it means you’ve grown and improved. Maybe your current writing isn’t bad, if just matched your skill level at the time, and since then you’re able to maintain a higher standard since you’ve learned more about your craft as time went on

[bunnys-kisses]

the jailbird (2)

prisoner!simon 'ghost' riley

part 1 | original text post

cw: (former) prisoner!simon, civilian!reader, romance & fluff, smut, size kink, sane and consensual, roleplay, rough sex, spanking, bondage & gags, tattoo kink, dom!simon, sub!reader

bunny says: love the fic? leave a comment! really love the fic? suggest your own! reblogs are encouraged!

-

living with an ex-convict was interesting. he still woke up at the crack of dawn, and as a result you were up too. he didn't know where anything was in your apartment, he hated that he had to wake you up but he didn't know where the spoons were.

you were happy to help him and spend some extra time together before you went to work. the more you were around him, the more you realized how big he was compared to you.

even his hands were much larger than yours. he loved to wrap you up in his arms and hold you while you were making yourself some breakfast. those strong tattooed arms around your middle as you flipped eggs.

sometimes he'd bury his face in your neck and visibly relaxed. he was still dealing with his fair share of trauma from the previous events of his life. and while it often left him stressed, he found comfort in you.

"you're my anchor, love." he said within the first week of his return to society.

you simply smiled and tried not to blush too hard as you said, "well, si. i'll happily be your anchor, as long as your mine."

"you're anchor, your rock, your foot solider, your lover." he said as he kept his gaze on you. since he had been living with you, you found his expression had softened a little. he could relax here.

"my husband." you reached out for him. he took your hand and kissed the top of it before he held it for a moment then returned it to you.

simon had a long road ahead of him, being on the inside for so long was going to cause some problems. but, he knew even if he had nothing. he had you.

it was almost five months into living together and he managed to get an interview working in small parts manufacturing. while it was tedious, they didn't need to look at his criminal record. which greatly excited him.

when he came home from the interview, he told you that it went well. that they seemed to like his dedication and were impressed when he mentioned his time in the military. he said, "got the whole 'thank you for your service'." as he held you and kissed you deeply.

it felt like your little lives were coming together. but the one thing you hated to admit to yourself. you sort of had a dark side, it wasn't anything too aggressive or 'evil'. you thought that simon was the perfect boyfriend, he'd never hurt a hair on your head.

but the idea of being with a criminal sort of had a sexy ring to it. to be with the bad boy. you almost felt embarrassed to admit it when he'd come home with flowers for you, or when he smiled at you. or when he held your hand when you went out. with you he got to be a person with love.

deep down you wanted to know the depths of your boyfriend. you wanted to know what a man like him, with his skill set, was capable of. you wanted it to burn, ache and hurt.

it took a lot of courage, you communicated with your boyfriend about a little make believe. while hesitant at first, he slowly started to warm up to the idea. you knew he was open to it when he came home from one, actually the first day at his job, with a bundle of bondage rope.

"the blue looks good on you." he remarked as he finished tying you up on the bed. he had your arms behind your back with you on your side and one leg tied to the bed post.

you looked at him, those eyes of yours were so alluring. you tried to move your leg but was stuck to the bed. he smiled down at you and tapped the ball gag in your mouth.

"but it doesn't matter what you want. right?' he asked, "i've searched a long time for you. you're not an easy woman to catch." he got between your legs, and hiked one leg over his shoulder as he started to aggressively lick your cunt. it was already dripping from the act of him tying you up.

there was no escape for you, even if you somehow got out of the bondage. he was almost twice the size of you and could do some damage if he wanted to.

you squirmed and whimpered around the ball gag as he took long, hard licks against your clit. he wanted to make sure his girl was wet enough for his large cock.

"maybe i should breed ya. bring you back to the boys all fat with my brats.' he purred, "i don't think they can throw ya in the can if you're pregnant. but who knows, you got pregnant by a thief." he continued to lick your sweet cunt. he was in heaven.

he really was so much bigger than you. he overpowered you, he could keep you down and fuck you until he had his fill, and there was nothing you could do about it. you were bound and gagged like a good girl.

he kept at it, he even teased your hole with his thick fingers until you were squirming more with your moans getting louder. he slapped your ass and gave you a stern look over your pussy. he gripped your leg over his shoulder. "shut up." he growled, "i don't need ya causin' a scene. i'd hate to go back to prison because you can't keep your trap shut up."

you hole clenched and he chuckled. he patted where he smacked and grabbed at the flesh before he went back to his feast between your legs. it didn't take long before the slick between your thighs got all over his face.

he pulled away and sat up on his knees. he stared down at you with your thigh wrapped around his waist. he was going to fuck you at a weird angle, but it was the only way he could keep his little prize tied up. he wiped is face, "you are the best thing i've caught." he said, "stolen a lotta loose change, but they're nothin' to the sweet taste of your cunt." he got his cock out his sweatpants and started to rub it against your slick pussy. he let out a harsh sigh from the sensation, "they should be keepin' ya behind the vault door." the tip slipped in for a moment and you clenched around it.

you whimpered and tried to pushed yourself down on his cock, but it was hard to do that when you were so tied up, he pushed the hair out of your eyes, your leftover wetness got on your cheek from his movements.

"but, you need to know." he said, "you're mine to do whatever to. your mommy and daddy aren't gonna save ya. you fell in love with a bad man and now you're lettin' him fuck your cunt raw. what's gonna happen at christmas when you're all swollen with my brats. riley boys are lil hell raisers." he went back to rubbing his cock up against your slit, "you'll be mine forever. my little prize. i should've taken ya a long time ago. just snatched ya up off the train. keep ya to myself." his tongue was getting loose from the buzz of pleasure in his brain.

you whimpered around the gag and almost cried out when he slipped his large cock into you easily. you felt it in your guts and his pace was much more brutal than the other times you've made love. that was the difference, you made love before. this was dirty, primal sex between a criminal and his captive.

the sounds of sex filled the air, paired with simon's heavy breathing. his heart was thumping steadily as he pushed his cock as deep as it would go. he loomed over you as he drilled himself into you. you were a comfortably tight fit around his cock.

you dug your nails into your palms from the immense pleasure and yelped when he slapped your ass. you whimpered when he leaned further into you to get closer into your personal space. his pace was brutal and it excited you.

"i'm a bad man." he said lowly, his voice close to your ear, "my worst crime is tainting such a precious angel." he held onto your calf as he bent your hips the closer he got. his voice was hot, "fill ya right up, make sure no other man has a chance to get ya knocked up." his tattooed hand went to your stomach which he gave a small rub, "my girl carryin' my boys."

your eyes almost rolled back from the heat in your body. you were almost drooling around the rubber gag in your mouth. it was dirty, it was filth. if anyone saw the state you were in, they would be shocked!

your head felt full of lust, you felt your lover so close to him. you knew despite the roughness and the harsh words, the entire scenario was safe. you knew you could get out of this if you needed to. but it wasn't getting to be too much, it was just enough.

the wetness between your legs and the flips in your stomach only excited you. to have such a large man be so domineering. it made you feel small in a good way. it was almost like being bound made you feel protected.

that you could lay yourself over to him and he'd cherish you. even if you were his little 'prize' for the evening. the hottest part was the pace at which his cock was battering your womb.

you whimpered against your gag and felt the heat rush through you. you held onto your palms as best as you could with your arms bound. the entire situation left you spinning, there was no wonder that orgasm crept up on you so easily.

with a loud moan around your gag, you climaxed around his cock. the tightness of your cunt mid-orgasm milked his cock till he was seeing stars. he came inside of you, his seed hit against the back of your womb.

the feeling of being able to do so left him a little slack-jawed. but he kept it together, even if his cheeks were flushed. when he finished, he slowly pulled out and started to untie you. his hands were shaky from the after effects of his orgasm.

he took the gag out of your mouth and pulled you in for a kiss when he finished untying you. he fell into bed with you and laid on top of the covers with you. he held you gently and kissed your face. he gave you gentle praise as he kept you in his arms.

when he looked at you, all was right in the world. you held onto him and pressed kisses against his face. after care consisted of tea and a small snack followed by a shower together, where he washed every part of you.

even though you were capable of doing it yourself, you still appreciated how detail orientated he was in the manner of getting you clean. little did you know that biology was working its magic and simon's seed found home in your cervix.

you better hope that the line about the riley boys being hellions was untrue or you'd have your hands full. it didn't help that when simon's hand grazed your stomach as he washed you that you blushed and tucked yourself closer to him.

mama riley did have a ring to it.

[lufyuu]

,, Love Quest ''

Background character male reader x Protagonist oc

Part 1 Part 2

Tw/s: dub-con at the start, dacryphilia, rough sex, semi-public sex, overstimulation, multiple rounds.

In a world where everyone's assigned a role they have to be, you were one of the many unlucky yet common ones to get the role of a background character. One who couldn't even interact with the protagonist if you wanted. The way it works is through the system. There is a system that essentially controls the world. This system can create scenarios, assign roles, etc. This whole world was built by it. Everyone has to obey it, excluding the protagonist themself, that is. Some even say it's possible for the protagonist to control the system itself but, that's just a rumour.

Of course, the role with the most power is the protagonist. Anyone would dream to have that power. To be the protagonist and have everyone fawn for you, throwing themselves at your feet, worshipping your every step. Not only that, his love interest is the best of the best, the prettiest girl you'd ever be able to lay your eyes on, the one you'd never be able to get with if you weren't the protagonist. Just like any other previous protagonist in this world, the current one is an extrovert, River Sterling. He's a perfect guy in every way. He's very well known due to being the protagonist, but also, he is very talented. It's as if there is nothing he can't do. He's even the top 1 on campus. Very rarely is he seen getting anything under an A+. Despite everyone constantly praising him and falling at his feet, he remained humble.

Just like any other day, you enter the building with books in your hands. You had to return these to the professor after borrowing them for a day. No matter how much you studied, you always remained top 2, and because of that, you were annoyed by River. Of course, it's not his fault that he's the protagonist, but you couldn't help but still feel negatively towards him. Going up the many many stairs, you overhear a girl yelling, maybe at a guy? You're not sure what kind of situation it is, but you guess it is a fight between a couple. "You never even spend time with me! Am I not enough!? Destiny binded us together, and yet here you are, doing nothing to please me, your girlfriend!", it sounded like Aria, the protagonist's main love interest. "Aria, well how would I be able to spend time with you when I feel nothing towards you", River says with a nonchalant tone, shocking you a bit, you've never heard him using that tone before. You stop in your tracks, right in front of the door, where you can hear Aria yelling at him. "Y-you...what!?", you can hear Aria say in disbelief. "H-how is that even possible! I'm who you're supposed to be with, I complete you, I'm your other half!", even without being able to see her, you can tell she's tearing up, probably with a red face. Though despite her crying, you don't hear River comforting her. Which is again, very out of character for him.

Next thing you know, you hear a very loud slap accompanied by running sound towards the door. Before you could even react, the door swings white open, a blonde haired girl running out of the room, knocking you down in the process. You stare at the direction she runs to. "Who are you, why did you eavesdrop", you turn back to River, looking down at you, glaring, even. His once gentle eyes seem to be clouded. You don't even recognize him. "[N-Name]", you gulp, you felt as if the man in front of you was going to eat you whole if you said the wrong thing. "[Name]..? I've heard of you, the top 2, right?", he asks in an almost curious but borderline mocking tone. You remain seated on the floor, books scattered everywhere. "Are you not going to explain yourself?", he raises an eyebrow, walking towards you. Taking this as a sign to get the fuck out of there, you quickly grab the books and try to run off, only to have your shirt grabbed by the tall guy.

"Running off are we?", he looks at you with a questiong expression, why would you avoid him, he wont eat you, will he? With the clock ticking, both of you know that soon, this hall will be packed with students, fortunate for you, unfortunate for him. He doesn't want you to go before he can pry some information out of you.

Thinking of a plan, he quickly drags you to the room, shutting the door behind him so you won't be able to run out without him stopping you mid-way. With his hands crossed, he asks you once more, "Why were you eavesdropping?", his tone even more demanding. "I was on my way to the professor's office, I just overheard some things. Can I go now?", you give a quick explanation, wanting to get out of this situation as quick as possible. Though, he wouldn't allow it. "How much did you hear?", "not much, please let me go now," you walk towards the door, turning the door handle only to see it's locked. It shouldn't be. The door can only be locked from the inside, and by the looks of things, River didn't have time to lock the door.

[System: Love Quest]

In order to proceed, please engange in intercourse.

And just as the system suddenly appeared in their face, a percentage bar appeared in the corner of the room and it stood tall, at 0%. With one look, the both of you knew what it wanted. "What the fuck!?", you yell, looking at the window and then at the protagonist who clearly isn't phased. He only sighs, rolling his eyes, as if he was annoyed by this notification. "This shit again", he whispers, loud enough for you to overhear on accident. He's gone through this before..? is what you were thinking. You've almost never gotten a window from the system, let alone one with any sexual themes. If River wasn't shocked, that means it's probably a common occurrence for him.

The two of you stare at one another for an uncomfortable period of time. As if time stopped for a moment. "This is getting real annoying", he says, sighing and stepping towards you. You back away until your back is pressed on the door making you unable to escape as he grabs your chin, lifting it up and looking at you. "You'll make do", he says before pressing his lips onto yours. Out of shock, you try to push him off, wanting to yell at him. How could he, a protagonist, be kissing someone like you? You're what others would perceive as not worthy of being in his presence let alone be kissing him. Yet here you are, getting your mouth explored by the man himself. Your eyes were opened from shock but you closed it after a few seconds, wanting to savour this moment. His hand made its way to your cheek. He was very gentle with both his hand and lips, making you lean into his touch. Before long, you felt as if you were running out of breath, how long can he even kiss you for!? Fortunately for you, he let go of the kiss, panting and trying to catch his breath after that incredible make out session. "We're not done yet", he says, pointing out the elephant in the room which is the percentage bar which still stands tall at 0%, no progress has been made, making the room inaccessible from the outside. The doors being magically locked also kept anyone from getting out before the goal was met. You knew you had no other choice but to do this in order to get out, as much as you were annoyed by the guy as a student, you couldn't deny his charm, the way his eyes looked into yours, the way his grazed his thumb over your lips. Who wouldn't fall head over heels for him? Anyone would die to be you at this very moment.

Without any hesitation, you managed to gather the courage to pull him into another kiss, you could feel him smiling into the kiss as he reciprocated. Moving his hands to your hips, trailling down to your clothed butt. Gropping and fondling it before he eventually unzips your pants, letting them slide down to your ankles. Leaving your bottoms almost bare if not for your briefs covering your private part. "Ahm...agh", the both of you moaned into the intense kiss before letting go. "You're a good kisser", you comment, gasping for air once more. He smirks, "of course, I'm not the protagonist for nothing", he chuckles a bit. You felt hands slipping into your briefs, making its way to your ass, gripping it even more now. He really seems to be enjoying gropping you. You felt his fingers move closer and closer to your hole before he inserts a finger into you, causing you to grip his arms in shock. "A-agh..!", you let out a surprised moan, his finger wiggling around, trying to get your hole to relax a bit, "you're so tense, [Name], loosen up a little", his inserted another finger, making you unable to keep your composure no matter how much you try to.

You feel his fingers thrusting into you, as if trying to get you to cum from his fingers alone. His long and slender fingers were quite deep in you. It wasn't long before he added another finger. And now that three fingers are going in and out of your hole, you feel as if you're aboit to reach your climax. You close your eyes, moaning loudly. He took notice to this and immediately stopped his fingers as if knowing you were about to cum. You're now puzzled by his actions, why did he stop? "I don't want you cumming from just my fingers, that wouldn't be fun now would it?", you then hear the sound of pants unzipping, realizing it was from him. He pulled his hard cock out of his briefs. You stared at it for a while before he snapped you back to reality, "eyes up here, angel", he teased, giving you a pet name while he was at it. "What? Have you never seen a cock this big?", you definitely haven't. It wasn't just long, just looking at the girth of it made you shiver a bit, how will that even fit. It was befitting of a protagonist, he's perfect in every way, even in his physical attributes. "Enough staring, angel", he says as he suddenly picks your legs up. You instinctively put your arms around him tightly so you don't end up falling, "hey!", you yell, this wasn't a pleasant surprise, you could've fallen, "relax, you're quite light", he is very strong afterall, he's joined almost every single sport available at this point.

You decide to put your trust in him, he's able to hold you up for over a minute now, there's no way he'll suddenly drop you, that'd ruin the moment on top of you getting hurt. After the shock wore off, you notice something poking at your hole, "hm..?", you let out a hum of confusion, turning your head down only to see his cock at your entrance, wanting to be inside you. "Are you ready to be filled up like you've never had before?", the now cocky-like protagonist asks with a slight chuckle at the end. You nod and immediately feel his cock thrust up inside of you, almost halfway in already. He grunts at how tight you are despite him having prepared your sweet little hole for his cock beforehand. Trying his best to get his cock all the way into your hole as you moan out in pain and pleasure, "relax why don't you?", he gives a teasing smile. Leaning in for a kiss, he manages to get you to relax and without another word, thrusts the rest of his cock into you, shocking you once more. You accidentally bite his lip in the process, drawing a bit of blood. "Agh!", he pulls back, tapping his finger on his lip and seeing that blood is coming out of the wound. He focuses on you once more, as if signifying he's about to move. You give a slight nod and he starts to thrust in and out of you, slowly and sensually at first. "You're really warm inside", he comments while thrusting into you, looking into your eyes as you manage to keep them open.

After a while of the sensual and slow fucking, he gets tired of it, wanting to thrust into you quicker. And so, he does as he wants. Thrusting into you quicker this time, rougher. You close your eyes and tighten the grip on his upper back, scratching his skin through his shirt. Your moans are no longer considered quiet, you're full on moaning your head out. That was before you realized the bell had rung, students were on their way to class and they'd pass by this specific room. You bite your lip in order to muffle out the moans, keeping it somewhat quiet in order to not get caught. River on the other hand, didn't like this one bit. He wants to hear your delicious and sweet moans, you should let them out for him to hear. "Stop biting your lip, angel, let me hear you", something in his voice made you want to obey his words, and for some reason, you find yourself no longer biting your lip, now you're just letting it all out, moaning and crying out for him.

The faster he went, the more you felt like you were about to reach your climax. He also seemed to be close. The both of you sweating, moaning, grunting. "I'm, agh, gonna cum...!", he says as he shoots his load all in you, coating your inner walls with his seed, some even dripping out. At that moment, you also came, releasing your juice all over your stomach. With the two of you now panting and gasping for air, River carries you to a nearby table, letting the two of you rest for a while. Just then, the door swings wide open, "Who the fuck was making all that noise!?", a teacher yells into the room, seemingly staring straight at them. The teacher looks around in confusion, "huh...I was so sure there was someone here...", He then turns his heels and walks back out, closing the doors on his way. You who were covering your face due to this, looked in the direction the teacher was in confusion, "did..he not see us..?", you ask River, to which he replies, "the system did that, probably", as if the system heard the man, it dings and the both of you turn your heads towards the bar of percentage now sitting at a solid 30%, "huh? 30%?", you say out loud in even more confusion, "it wants us to have sex and get it up to 100%", River says without missing a beat, "ready for round two?"

———

"Agh..! To..oo big, ahghh...", you try to say in-between moans, overstimulated by his cock and the way he bites your nipples. "You're taking me so well", at least he's enjoying it, a lot. You even wonder if he has an infinite stamina, but of course your thoughts were drowned by the time he came in you for the third time. How many rounds has it even been? The bar has been stuck at 99% for so long, when will this end..You're so overstimulated at this point, River's cock has been relentlessly fucking you dumb. You can't even think anymore, nor can you let out any coherent words. It's been at least a couple of hours since the both of you started this, why hasn't it ended. Your cheeks are wet, wet from the tears which had been and are still rolling down your face. He loves witnessing your debauchery. Your clothes have been discarded to the side by now, you don't know where but they're on the floor somewhere. His thrusts get faster and faster, you didn't even know he could go this fast but here he is, fucking you with inhuman speed. "C'mon..ah..come with me, my angel...agh", he moans and grunts while saying this. Then his thrusts stop and you feel even more liquid filling your already over-filled hole, making it impossible to be kept inside and most of it dripping out your hole and onto the floor which has a pool of both yours and his cum. At that very moment, you feel your whole body give out as your vision blurs until you eventually black out.

———

What happened in the room stayed in the room. Your life went on as usual, the normal schedule. Though, one thing has definitely changed. That is the fact that you are now dating the protagonist despite still having the role of a 'background character' . Everyone was shocked but learned to accept it. Who are they to defy the protagonist's wishes? One person in particular wasn't happy about this. None other than his ex, Aria. Everyone saw that coming from a mile away, though, so nobody paid her any mind. After that, River took any and every class you took. Science? You'd see him sit there with an empty seat next to him, looking up at you and asking with a big smile, "come! Sit here, angel!", while patting the seat next to him to signal for you to sit. PE? He'd always get you into his team no matter what. No matter how bad the other team wanted you on theirs, they'd never have you as you now belong to River. Being in the same class as you had its advantages. That is, being able to fuck you in class without anyone noticing. To be frank, the both of you found it out on accident. It was during class when the both of you got a new love quest. You thought of leaving the class to finish but the system didn't let you. It wanted the both of you to do it at that very moment. When he took the initiative and pulled your shirt up to bite your nipples, not a single student nor the teacher had any reaction, it was as if the both of you were protected by an invisible bubble that allowed the quest to take place. That, combined with the fact the teacher couldn't see the both of you the first time, confirmed your suspicions that they were indeed unable to see you.

From that day forward, the two of you almost always got a love quest every single day of school. The session would last at least 2 hours, leaving both of you a hot sweaty mess once it was over and done with. You'd always be embarrassed and extra tight during these. The way you felt eyes on you, it was as if they could see you, but in reality, they really can't. You'd tighten up at the thought of them watching you, making River grunt even more due to your tightness. He'd smirk and ram even harder into you once this happens. "Naughty boy, you get off to the thought of people watching, huh?", he'd always tease you. These love quests would be random, though. Despite it happening every day, the two of you could never predict when it'd occur. It could be very early in the morning, in class, or even during an activity. It was always random, so why would you always see River getting hard even before the love quest appear...? It's probably nothing. You're just paranoid.

☆☆☆☆☆

Apologies for the wait. My schedule's been real hectic lately. This is not proofread, so please excuse the probably many mistakes/typos!

I hope you enjoyed it! If you have any questions/reqs, please do send them my way!<3

[tonycries]

Go For It, Gojo! [Part 2] - G.S.

Synopsis. Just two weeks ago you could barely stand him - so, really, why is your heart beating so loud? Surely, it’s just the way he’s got you pushed against the wall, face stuffed in your cunt - right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, academic rivals to lovers, student president! reader, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, slight angst + comfort, vibrators, banter about physics, cunnilingus, Yaga is tired, oral sex (male + female), college! AU, both reader and Satoru do some growing up, overstimulation, super sappy actually, pet names (sweetheart, hardass), swearing.

Word count. 10.5k

A/N. Passed out five times, here’s Part 2 (joke). PART 1 HERE. Art by @_3aem on X.

Gojo Satoru likes to think he’s hilarious. A real connoisseur of the fine art of comedy. The fifth member of Impractical Jokers, if you will. 

Which is probably why, for someone who didn’t know the definition of shutting the fuck up, he sure was intent on staying quiet about whatever this was.

It’s been exactly 2 weeks, 5 days and 17 hours since you and Satoru had entered this weird limbo, and there still wasn’t a peep out of the man about what the two of you are to each other.

Friends? Acquaintances? A booty call that he happens to argue way too much with? You’d smack that pretty nose of his if that was the case - as soon as you admittedly stopped being a pussy yourself…

But, semantics.

And right now, his fingers intertwined with yours as he practically drags you through the aquarium ticket counter - you couldn’t help but wonder - was this a date?

Not exactly lovers, but definitely more than friends, a tense understanding crackling in the air between you two. Something prickly and jittery that pooled in your stomach and made your head spin. 

And as someone used to having the answers to everything, it bothered you that you didn’t have the one to this. 

You haven’t been to an aquarium since you were a kid - quickly having outgrown it at the ripe age of seven. So, really, it made sense that the 6’3 manchild beside you insisted it was the perfect spot to celebrate finishing your assignment.

“That damn quantum entanglement hell.” you’d called it - and ranted about all the way inside - more so to fill the charged silence than anything. His fingers still tight around yours despite the dissipating crowd, burning into your skin.

“You know for someone who loves the elegance of science, you’re an extra hardass about quantum entanglement.” he titters in-between worried mutters of “doesn’t that old lady look like the mafia queenpin from the café.” as you two try to navigate your way through the aquarium.

You desperately cling onto his remark - a sense of normalcy you could finally breathe in.

“Well, Satoru, for someone who treats life like an improv show, you sure have a knack for avoiding scientific precision,” you retort, some strange part of you delighting in the way his fingers tighten around yours. 

“Precision is for pussies.” he chuckles, bringing up a hand to your face, fingers wiggling in a ludicrous attempt at hypnotic suggestion. “Besides, sweetheart, life is a cosmic joke, and quantum mechanics is the punchline.”

“As expected from a Pilot-Wave theorist, that just sounds like an excuse to be lazy. ‘Oh, let’s embrace uncertainty and blame it on quantum mechanics!’”

“It’s also the punchline.”

“At least my punchlines make sense.”

He lets out an exaggerated whine, “And here I thought we were bonding over shared disdain for the hard-headed laws of physics.”

“Shared disdain? I actually respect the laws of physics. They’re the backbone of our universe.”

“Maybe.” he responds, voice a bit uncharacteristically somber. “But, quantum mechanics, uncertainty, whatever. In the end it doesn’t matter the universe, aren’t we all just wandering through a sea of unpredictability? It’s exciting.” he weaves through the crowd with you, gaze flickering between you and the vibrant schools of fish.

And maybe you’re an overthinker - you’ve always been told you were - but it felt like his words carried a heavy tone that went beyond your stupid little debate about quantum entanglement. This was not about physics.

“That excitement often leads to chaos, no matter the universe.”

“Embrace the chaos in every universe then. It keeps things interesting.”

“You’re incorrigible.” you scoff, meeting his intense gaze head-on, skin flaring at the sheer intensity of it. “I bet in every universe you’re an unchangeable hell-raiser.”

“Maybe.” He leans in, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, gaze now locked on you, his lips dangerously ghosting your ear. “Or maybe I’m just more of a hands-on learner?”

It might never have been about physics.

It’s innocent fun, right? Two classmates celebrating the end of an assignment? Innocent, innocent fu-

“Y’know with the way you’re so dripping wet f’me, I’m starting to think our lil’ arguments are just foreplay, prez.”

Sleek plastic cold against your back, Satoru’s mouth hot on yours - hungry and insistent. Lips tangy with the taste of minty toothpaste and the thrill of the forbidden as he cages you against that heady bathroom stall.

“You’re the one that riles me up. Got a degradation kink, Satoru?” you shoot back between gasps as his greedy hands map every curve and dip of your body. Groping. Kneading. Such a fucking tease.

“Mhm~ Love when you talk dirty to me, sweetheart.” he hums into the heated skin of your neck. White-hot tingles of electricity running along your body. “Though, I really prefer when that smart mouth is choking around my cock instead.”

“I’m gonna hah- drown you in the fucking clownfish tank.”

“Kinky, but that’s not that’s not the magic word, sweetheart.”

You grit your teeth - in both pleasure and irritation, but most importantly the need for more more more. He always did drive you insane. Words choked, “P-please.”

A sharp moan rips from your throat as long fingers graze your swollen folds through your soaked panties. Teasing the dainty hem. Pulling it down. Delving in. Curving deftly upwards, easily pressing into that one spot inside. Over and over. In and out in and out in and-

“Teasing hah- teasing bastard.” you hiss, even as your traitorous hips buck into his touch.

Satoru chuckles darkly, breath warm against your ear, sending shivers running down your spine. “Your teasing bastard.” Your heart pounds in your ears, mind caught on the “your”, drowning out the distant hum and bustle of the aquarium outside. 

And before you can open your mouth - maybe to say something so utterly stupid - he falls to his knees. Pretty lips ghosting your inner thigh, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. A stark contrast with the cool air of the bathroom stall. 

Mindlessly, your legs press together, a bead of slick trailing enticingly down them - aching for an ounce of friction. Down, down, down-

And Satoru notices - of course he notices - because his tongue darts out urgently, tracing the seam of your swollen folds. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, pooling your juices on his tongue before letting them flow down his throat - groaning as if it was his favorite taste. 

Shit, you really were his favorite taste. 

Nose-deep in your cunt and on his knees in that cramped aquarium bathroom, all he can do is lap up your juices. Cock aching, tasting you, breathing you in like a man dying of thirst. 

Pulling down his trousers just enough for his throbbing erection to spring free. Leaking tip smearing against his toned abdomen, trailing down the prominent vein in the middle. A large hand firmly gripping the base, pressing his heavy balls so obscenely on your calf, pulling in sinful little tugs to you.

Blood rushes straight to the throbbing erection in his hands at the way your breath hitches, pretty little mewls of his name leaving those kiss-bitten lips. Such a shame he had to muffle them, two fingers in your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself. 

Ah, he didn’t get to see those manta rays yet, but it’s alright - right now, hips bucking helplessly into him, your hands knotted in his hair - you’re his favorite view anyway. His pretty girl.

“Hngh- Jus’ like that, Satoru.” you moan.

He groans into your dripping pussy, vibrations sending a jolt of electricity shooting through your veins, making you clench further around the tongue pushing its way into your heated hole. Cunt aching for release, and his leaking cock not far behind as he fucks his fist urgently. Grinding into you like a fucking dog in heat.

“Please.” 

Granting your unspoken request, he moves purposefully. Nose catching on your clit, rubbing it over and over as he alternates between gentle sucks and rapid thrusts of his tongue dipping into your entrance. Satoru’s unspoken pace sends you spiraling into insanity - and the edge. 

Almost there.

You lock eyes with him, seeing just as much need for you reflected back in his own eyes. Flitting between his hungry gaze and the thumb teasing his flushed slit. Jerky, desperate strokes of his hand along his veined length - up, up, up - just the way you do it.

Time seems to stand still as with one two three thrusts you shatter all over his tongue. Choked-up cries of his name bouncing off the walls of the empty bathroom as you chase peak after peak on his pretty face.

Your vision blurs at the edges, blood roaring in your ears. Torn between wanting to scream in pleasure and not wanting to be arrested for public indecency. Breathless whispers of pleasure slurring together as your mind clouds with only Satoru Satoru Satoru-

As the haze clears slightly, you realize you’re cradling his head, stroking his silky locks soothingly. Pulling away - embarrassed more at this than what just transpired - you let Satoru rise to his feet, towering over you. 

“On your knees, sweetheart.”

Still delirious from your orgasm, you mindlessly drop to your knees before him. Wordlessly, he guides himself into your mouth, precum salty on your tongue and cock glistening in the dim light of the bathroom.

His hips begin to thrust, matching the pace from before as he fucks your hot mouth. You relax your jaw, letting him take control as he plunges deeper and deeper. Fighting the urge to gag as he hits the back of your throat. Saliva drips down your chin so lewdly, smearing on his cock,

Satoru’s breathing grows heavier and heavier as your nose hits the tufts of hair on his pelvis, already wet with precum and spit. Grip searing on your scalp, you look up to meet his gaze - eyes half-lidded and tears clinging to your lashes.

Maybe it was the carnal look in your eyes, or the way your glossy lips stretch so prettily around him - because with a guttural groan, Satoru spills his load down your throat. Grasp steady on your hair, making you sputter and drink every drop as his cock twitches on your tongue. Cum dribbling down the corner of your lips, the tap! tap! tap! of it ringing in your ears.

As his high passes, you feel as if you’re in a daze as Satoru helps you up. Voice shot and throat burning as he cleans the both of you up. 

Gentle hands on your cheek, a thumb caressing your lips. Your face burning at the way he looks at you. Why does he look at you like that.

A soft smile plays on his lips - kiss-bitten and prettily glossed with your juices. Wordlessly, he leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, sending a sudden tug at your heartstrings.

“I bet in every universe we sneak around and choose the worst lil’ hideouts.”

Yeah. Yeah, maybe you did.

And you don’t know why it hurt. 

It’s almost like you’re on autopilot as you quickly smooth down your clothes and follow Satoru outside, back into the bustling aquarium as inconspicuously as possible. 

As you walk side by side, you can’t help but feel the previous euphoria inside you coiling into something more. Something uncomfortable.

Passing by a group of kids excitedly pointing at a giant tank of tropical fish, you feel a wistful ache as you’re reminded of simpler times. Back when you didn’t analyze everything interaction. Maybe back when things were better.

Pulling back, “Satoru…”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“About what happened…about us-” you sputter out, uncharacteristically inarticulate. “I don’t want-”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, y’know.” 

Your head snaps up. Unspoken words lingering in the air - is it me or you that doesn’t want to talk about it.

Your eyes catch on the shine of his hair in the cool light. The subtle flex of muscles beneath his shirt as he leads the way through the mesmerizing corridors of the aquarium, the soft glow of the tanks casting an ethereal light on his silhouette. 

His hand warm in yours, and that little dimple at the corner of his grin as he turns to you. Devastating.

It was like something snapped. And it hits you with a pang. All glory and beautiful.

He wasn’t yours.

And he probably might never be.

Somehow that terrified you. 

Because in the end, weren’t you just playing along in his elaborate cosmic joke? Just part of his unknown?

But why did that hurt so much?

“Gojo, I’m going home.”

Fear.

---

There have only been three times in his life that Gojo Satoru has truly felt fear. The first, of course, was right after kissing your pretty lips in that dingy closet - if there was ever a true “ah, if I live I’m making this my legacy” moment then that was it. 

The second was when he accidentally walked in on Yaga practicing his interpretative dance routine in the faculty lounge. The man had some moves - but it was something that Satoru saw nightmares about for days.

And the third time? Well, that’s the ongoing saga of trying to decipher you and why the hell you were sitting in another row during Advanced Quantum Physics, so gorgeous and unbothered ignoring him.

No texts, no calls, no snarky debates on anything since the aquarium a few days ago.  

Almost as if he was back to square one - worse even.

So yes, Gojo Satoru is scared. In fact, some might even say he’s utterly terrified. 

But even more than that, he’s so so stupid.

Because for the life of him he couldn’t remember what he’d done to mess up that fragile little connection that you two had formed. 

Maybe you just liked seafood too much to visit the aquarium? That couldn’t be it…

Did you find out he accidentally knocked over that stack of books in the library and blamed it on you? No, he’s heard you blame worse things on him to his face. 

Have you finally gotten sick of him?

…

Nahhh.

He steals a glance in your direction. Eyes mapping your ramrod posture, the way you’re hanging off of Yaga’s every word, and that slight frown marring your features. Ah, you looked so beautiful there even when you looked like you’re about to have an aneurysm.

It’s as if you’ve erected an invisible fortress around yourself, and he’s outside looking in. Desperately calling for you.

Satoru sighs inwardly, realizing he’s going to have to pull out the big guns. With the subtlety of a sledgehammer, he clears his throat, shifting his chair a little too loudly to yours in the row in front of him. 

Paying no mind to the irritated glance that Yaga (and you) shoot at him, he whispers loud enough that it probably carries to the entire classroom. “So, prez~ Did I accidentally stumble into an alternate universe where you still hate me or have you just been avoiding me like I’m a contagious disease.”

You flinch - probably both at the audacity and at him addressing you. Eyes still firmly trained on the now-disgruntled Yaga, you reply curtly, “This is not an alternate universe, Gojo. And I haven’t been avoiding you, I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy ignoring me? Space might’ve worked for Neil Armstrong but it won’t work for me, sweetheart. Just tell me what I did so I can get on my knees and beg for forgiveness.”

Your brows furrow, eyes rereading the same sentence on your textbook over and over. “Just focus on these causal dynamical triangulations, Gojo.”

“Oh yeah, I had one of those once.”

“Satoru. I swear to-”

A sharp call of your name - followed by his. Professor Yaga’s irritation, now palpable, hangs in the air like a storm. “If you two can't maintain some decorum, I suggest you continue your discussion outside.”

Satoru grins unabashedly, batting his long lashes, “Why, Yaga, I thought you enjoyed our discussions.”

“Out, both of you.”

Each word clipped and shattering your dreams of becoming Professor Yaga’s protégé into tinier and tinier pieces. 

“You heard the man, prez. Let’s take this show on the road.” 

Hastily, you gather your belongings, shooting an apologetic glance at Professor Yaga, who gives you a sympathetic look in response. As the door slams behind you, noise ringing in your ears, you stand frozen in a mixture of shock and disbelief. 

Satoru, however, seems unfazed. “Well, that was an unbridled success.”

Irritation spikes as you hiss out, “What?”

“I mean, you called me Satoru for the first time in days so I consider that an unbridled success.”

A strange stab at your heart, and maybe for the first time since working together on that quantum entanglement assignment, Satoru’s joke doesn’t land. 

Your eyes narrow at him, “This isn’t a joke, Satoru. I needed Professor Yaga’s guidance - how else am I going to get a research position with him?”

“It wasn’t a joke.” 

Following your weighty silence, Satoru lets out a heavy sigh. The expression on his face looked more serious than you’d ever seen it as his eyes search yours. “Look, prez, I didn’t mean to mess things up for you - though Yaga basically worships the ground you walk on so-” 

At your raised eyebrow he gets back on track, “Anyway, something’s wrong and I just wanted to understand what’s going on between us.”

A humorless laugh leaves your lips, “Now you want to talk about us?”

You clench your fists, frustration and confusion boiling over within you. You know you’re part of this too. You know you’re not blameless in this tangled mess. And right now, the sheer warmth of his gaze made a strange little part of you consider just giving in and running to his arms. Fuck what he wants of you. Fuck all the uncertainty. 

And that’s exactly what scared you.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of thoughts within your mind. “I don’t even know what ‘us’ is, Gojo. And I don’t think you do either.”

Your voice is surprisingly steady - as are your feet as they carry you away from Satoru. You’d caught one, final glance at the slump of his shoulders, and the silent plea in his eyes. 

Purposeful steps sound in your ears as you walk to God-knows-where. Yet, they still stutter - as does your heart - as Satoru’s voice rings in the hallway behind you, “Take all the time you need, prez. I’ll win you back with my world-renowned Gojo charm again~”

Light words following a heavy admission, his humor attempting to bandage over the cracks of what you two had not too long ago. The echo of his words accompany you down the corridor, and despite yourself, you find your lips tugging into the slightest beginnings of a smile. The slightest.

It’s okay. This is okay. Things can go back to whatever they were now - normal, steady.

“World-renowned Gojo charm.” you repeat under your breath, ready to find a quiet corner of campus where you can throw yourself into causal dynamical triangulations. 

Gaze unwavering, Satoru stands still, searching for any signs of you looking back. Turn around. Turn around turn around turn-

“Mr. Gojo, are you going to find the building exit with the same enthusiasm you exhibit when spouting lines from your imaginary romance novel?”

“Ah. Yaga, I was just- wait imaginary? I can assure you that my charm is as real as quantum mechanics - just ask your star student! Although these days even quantum mechanics might have trouble explaining why she’s-”

“Mr. Gojo.”

“Understood. On my way.” A comical salute, “May your lectures be as riveting as my girl when she’s threatening to drown me in clownfish tanks~”

“Good. And please, spare us all from any more ‘unbridled success’ in the future.”

---

The following week turned into a delicate dance, a waltz of cautious side steps and tense half-glances - all of which were met by that fond gaze that made your heart clutch so involuntarily. Like a silent drama where neither of you knew the next line.

The sprawling campus now seemed so tiny, a tension connecting the two of you like an invisible thread. From Professor Yaga’s class - now so dull without that usual bickering - all the way down to that café just off-campus where the stuffy air hums with old banter and unspoken words.

Yet, the routine remained unchanged, you still found yourself visiting there time and time again - by that little booth in the corner, right next to the window. Just without your familiar companion.

You never realized how quiet the café could get without someone talking your ear off about everything from the Pilot-Wave theory to why the little girl at the grocery store who mistook him for a Kakashi cosplayer is definitely conspiring against him. 

It’s thrown you off - and you’re sick of thinking of that stupid smirk when you’re trying to meticulously sort through the overflow of student archives.

Ugh, you’ve been losing sleep over these for days. Feeling hot under your temples, you try to push away the pressure behind your eyes - If you don’t get this categorized before the next meeti-

“Whatcha reading, sweetheart?”

Speak of the devil.

Startled, you look up from your sea of paperwork. 

Ah, there he was. All nonchalance and grace, eyes twinkling with mischief and an easy grin curling his lips. And for a moment - a brief, fleeting moment - you’re filled with a familiar warmth, tension from the past few days melting into nothingness.

“Oh, just some archives.” you blink, with a measured calmness.

“Absolutely fascinating.” Satoru chuckles, sliding into the chair across from you with the casual elegance of someone who’s completely unaware of the mess he left in his wake. “What’s next, a riveting analysis on the historical significance of paperclips?”

Ignoring his banter, you focus diligently on the task at hand - Gakuganji would have your head. “If only. Now what do you want, Satoru? I’m busy.”

His grin widens, undeterred. “Busy with what? Cataloging the thrilling history of staplers and notepads?”

You shoot him a pointed look, “The secret lives of archives can be more scandalous than you think, Gojo.” 

“Just how do you contain your excitement, prez?”

“I don’t.” you drone out. Shuffling your papers, gathering them with a deliberate focus. “Now, if you’re done with your stand-up routine, I actually have work to do.”

Satoru straightens up, the playfulness in his eyes dimming ever so slightly. “Wait wait, sweetheart, we need to talk.”

You let out a sigh - there it is. And maybe you were being petty. Maybe you were slightly scared. “Oh, now, we do? How convenient.”

“Can’t we just go back to the way things were? I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He runs a hand through his silky locks, a gesture that usually accompanies his frustration. 

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Weird? Gojo, things have been weird between us for a while now. You just never bothered to notice until it got inconvenient for you..” You stand up, your archives now neatly organized. “I have to finish seven files of these now, excuse me.”

A subtle ache takes residence in your bones as you walk away, his gaze hot on your back. The barista, a friendly soul who had witnessed countless interactions between you and Gojo, offered you a sympathetic smile as you made your way out.

The café's atmosphere, once cozy with laughter, now suffocatingly laced with unease. That invisible thread connecting you both feels strained. Hanging by the thinnest of threads - on the verge of snapping. 

And, yet, through it all one thought rings clear. 

You missed him.

Satoru didn’t know what hurt more - the way you called him “Gojo” or the way he didn’t even get a giggle out of his paperclip joke.

“Gojo, things have been weird between us for a while now.”

Yeah, definitely the way you called him “Gojo”.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the cloud of doom himself. I can barely enjoy my Earl Grey. What’s eating at you, young man?” 

Satoru’s head snaps up at the curious croak, tone a mix of concern and amusement. His eyes meet sharp, perceptive ones that seem to cut through his sulky haze. Oh, it’s the mafia queenpin.

At his wordless staring she plows on, taking a seat opposite him, “Oh c’mon, boy. Don’t think I haven’t seen you lurking and moping about. You’ve got as much subtlety as my late husband - and he once tried to hide a mistress by having her disguise as a potted plant.”

A half-hearted grin makes its way onto his face, “No potted plants here, just the usual existential crisis. You know how it is.”

The old lady snorted, unimpressed. “Please, spare me the theatrics. I’ve seen drama queens with more subtlety. Now spill.”

Satoru hesitated, wincing at the stare that seemed to cut right into his soul. It reminded him of a little someone. 

Finally, he sighs relentingly, “It's complicated. Things with someone... changed. I miss the way it used to be, you know?”

A sharp cackle, echoing in the empty space around them. “Ah, love troubles. You youngsters make it sound so dramatic. Look, boy, if you want something, go and get it.”

He huffs in defeat, now way more into impromptu love counseling than he initially thought he’d be. “I tried but-”

But the old lady cuts him off, sharp and incisive, “Trying isn’t the same as doing, kid. And let me tell you, I’ve seen enough guys like you wasting time pondering instead of acting.” 

It seems this mafia queenpin brought out all the childish, petty sides of him. Because Satoru whines in a way that he definitely wouldn’t if you hadn’t been avoiding him and if you hadn’t called him “Gojo” and-

“But she hates me, and she’s sick of me.” A rare vulnerability creeping into his voice. “Maybe things were better the way they were.”

“Life’s too short for that crap. And trust me, that girl does not hate you, you’re just scaring her off. I would have smacked you after that first dumb comment about paperclips.” The old lady snorts, dismissing his complaint. “Uptight academics, always scared of their own feelings. Afraid that if they acknowledge them, the world might end.” 

Satoru blinks, taken aback by the unexpected insight. “Scaring her off? I'm just being myself.”

She leans in, sharp eyes drilling into him - picking him apart. “Being yourself doesn't mean avoiding the real conversations. You’ve got feelings, boy. Instead of playing the joker, try being sincere for once. Maybe you’ll be surprised.” 

Taking a patient sip of her tea, “Now, go and fix whatever mess you made. Or better yet, just grab the girl and give her a damn good kiss. Works wonders.”

Satoru blinks, taken aback by the unexpected advice. The old lady cackles again, a knowing twinkle in her eye.

“Now, scram, and let an old lady enjoy her coffee in peace.” 

He nods, more to himself than her, feeling a strange mix of determination and embarrassment at being given advice by the same lady he had a silent bet with you about being an underground overlord.

Immediately standing up, he salutes her goodbye before rushing out - only to stop abruptly halfway out the door. Turning and speedwalking back to the table, with a mix of curiosity and urgency. 

“Hey, granny, I have a question.”

“Anything as long as it isn’t my age, boy.”

“Would you happen to have any mafia connections by chance?.”

Ah, you think you’re dying. 

Or maybe that’s just what the towering stack of papers on your cluttered desk want you to think…

It mocks you. A painful reminder of the mundane world you were now in. That invisible thread connecting you to that little booth in the corner of the café now feels like a noose tightening around your neck. 

What’s done is done. And right now you have bigger fish to fry - fish shaped annoyingly like the unresolved chaos of these archives.

You rub your eyes, room swaying slightly as you squint at the tiny print, letters melting into one another and conspiring against you. Rereading the same sentence over and over, sweat beading on your forehead.

God, was the heater on too high?

The documents on the desk seem to dance, a mocking waltz that laughs in the face of your feeble attempts to restore order. Chaos. 

Stop it.  

An incessant pounding on your temples, blood roaring in your ears. 

You reach for a pen, your fingers fumbling as it slips through your grasp. Falling onto the floor with a clatter that reverberates in your throbbing head. Chaos. 

The room is stifling, walls closing in on you. Breaths hot and labored. Temples drumming louder. And louder.  Urgent and insistent. Chaos.

“Open up! It’s Satoru!”

Satoru.

Body acting before your brain, you stagger out of your seat, the world spinning dangerously as you clutch onto the desk for support.

Satoru?

Your unsteady feet carry you towards the door - almost subconsciously. You wince at the stab of pain in your temples as it throbs in time with the urgent knocking.

Hands unsteady on the doorknob, vision bleary, yet you’d recognize that shock of cloudy hair anywhere. His words hit you before the realization that Satoru was here, and why was he here looking so adorably disheveled like he’d run here and what was he rambling about now-

“I'm so so sorry. I messed up, I should’ve noticed. I know I’ve been avoiding the real conversation and I didn’t realize how much-”

His voice, tinged with a vulnerability you’re not used to hearing, is abruptly cut off as Satoru looks up from where he was fumbling with his fingers in nervousness - wide blue eyes taking in your glassy eyes and clammy skin. In your hazy vision you make out the deep concern creeping its way onto those pretty features.

“Sweetheart?”

A sudden wave of dizziness hits you. The room tilts, and for a brief, disorienting moment, you feel like you’re floating in space. Ah, didn’t know you could breathe in space. Wonder if you’ll win a Nobel for this discovery?

A sharp call of your name cuts through the haze, the last thing you register before the world folds around you like a delicate paper. Fading to black., and perhaps the warm arms around you are the only thing grounding you right now. The chaotic waltz has won.

Now, the great Gojo Satoru usually calls his mother for only one of two reasons - 1. His beloved ramen shop is closed, or worse - out of his favorite special spicy sauce, and 2. A dire and life-threatening emergency.

“Mama! I’ve got an emergency and no it’s not the ramen this time.”

His mother’s voice crackles through the phone, a mix of concern and amusement. “Satoru, are you sure it’s that dire? I’m at a work meeting, y’know”

Dramatically, “Of course, mama. Someone I care about is sick. Yes, I have a heart under this fabulous exterior. A real one.”

A brief pause, “Oh my lil’ Toru~ You mean you finally confessed to that student prez you’ve been swooning over for months? The one with ‘a brilliant mind like a quantum computer’ and ‘eyes like-’”

Squirming in embarrassment, “Well- not exactly, but-”

“Spill.”

“I need the recipe to our secret family chicken soup, like, urgently. It’s a life-or-death situation.”

His mother’s laughter echoes through the phone. “Life-or-death, huh? Alright, my little drama king, I’ll send it right away. But you owe me a detailed account of what's happening.”

“Deal!”

With a click, the call ends, and Satoru is left in your hallway, holding you in his arms, desperately awaiting the secret weapon - his mother’s legendary chicken soup.

In the meantime, he shifts you in his arms, steady hands carefully lifting you off the ground, cradling you to his chest. 

Face burning at the practiced way his feet carry him to your room. “Come on, sweetheart. Wake up. Don’t make me regret not calling an ambulance. Should I call an ambulance? No, chicken soup first, then maybe an ambulance. Ugh, I should've paid more attention in first aid.”

Slow, deliberate steps through the corridor. Heart dropping as his eyes catch on the mountains of scattered papers and files. Next time he passes by Gakuganji’s office he’s gonna swap the keys on that fossil’s keyboard. 

The soft click of the door closing seems too loud in the quiet room as he lays you gently on the bed. Heart clenching at the way you bury yourself mindlessly into the covers, pretty eyes still screwed shut, he mutters to himself “What am I going to do with you?”

His gaze drifts to the scattered papers on the floor, starting to gather them, creating a semblance of order amidst the chaos. Satoru glances at you, noticing the creased lines on your forehead even in your unconscious state. A pang of guilt hits him.

“Avoiding the real conversation, huh?” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. He risks a glance at your sleeping figure again, “I’m sorry, my sweetheart.”

Finishing his impromptu cleanup - and after taking maybe one picture of you all snuggled up - he gets up determinedly to make the legendary chicken soup. “I’ll make it right, prez. First, chicken soup. Then, we'll have that real conversation, no matter how scary it gets.”

You wake up to the cacophony of pots and pans, and a voice…cursing bad cooking for being genetic? The aromatic smell of chicken soup hits you - as does the cold sweat beading on your forehead.

Joints aching, you try to sit up, the room still spinning - but ever-so-slightly less than before. Recollections from earlier slowly come to you, you don’t even have to look at the figure now standing at the doorway to know who it is.

“Whoa, there, sweetheart. Lay back.”

Your weakened smile is met with a worried frown. Satoru’s gentle tone, masking his franticness, rings in your ears like a song you loved but haven’t heard in a long time. He rushes to guide you gently back onto the bed, a thumb wiping away the sweat trickling down your temple. “Soup’s on the stove. But first, let’s get you cleaned up. Is that okay?”

Before you can protest - as if you had the strength to - Satoru scampers off to your bathroom. You lay there in the deafening silence as he does. You had an image to uphold, archives to categorize, and a Satoru to distance yourself from. 

But right now, your eyes meeting his like constellations aligning in the night sky as he returns with a small basin filled with warm water, a soft cloth draped over his shoulder, you think that you wouldn’t mind falling apart for him. 

Sitting down beside you, his gaze never leaving your face, “Just relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” A tenderness in his voice matching the warmth of the damp washcloth gently dabbing your forehead.

A heavy feeling settles in your gut. You want to shy away from the fondness in those blue depths as they never leave yours. You want to block out the hushed whispers of reassurance as his fingers trail lightly across your skin, uncomfortably hot. You want to cry. 

And you don’t realize you are until Satoru’s hand stiffens, eyes widening with emotions you can’t name. 

Oh. 

Satoru has seen you strong, capable, and fiercely independent. He’s seen you turn his elaborate equation into a doodle of a ramen bowl with the caption, “Even my ramen has more substance than this theory, Satoru.”

But Satoru has never seen you like this. 

“Hey, hey, c’mon. It’s okay, prez. I’m here. I’ve got you.” Satoru whispers, as if afraid that speaking louder might shatter the fragile reality you both find yourselves in.

His words hanging in the air, and the sincerity in his eyes coax you to unravel the knot of emotions you’ve been suppressing ever since you were pushed into that damn closet with him.

“Satoru.” And it spills out. “I’m scared. And I missed you. And I’m scared that I missed you - scared of what that could mean, and scared of where this might lead. Because I missed you and you’re here.”

His brows furrow in concern, but he remains silent, urging you to continue.

“I've built walls, convinced myself that I can’t afford to be vulnerable out of fear of the unpredictable. Yet, here we are. I can’t escape it, and it terrifies me.” you confess, eyes flickering away from the intensity of his gaze as if avoiding the reality of your words.

Satoru inches his hand closer to cradle yours. “You don’t have to be scared, prez, I’m not going anywhere.” His voice a steady anchor, “Though, I was scared too. Scared that if I confronted these feelings, you’d run away. So, I waited, telling myself that I was giving you time, but honestly it was just a shitty excuse.”

His thumb caresses the back of your hand, a gentle rhythm matching the beating of your heart. “Because for all I spout about chaos and uncertainty, facing these feelings head-on is scarier than any angry Yaga.”

A fresh wave of tears - both at his admission and at that familiar attempt to lighten the humor. “You’re an idiot you know.” you sputter.

“I know.”

“And your theories on life and the universe are stupid.”

“Absolutely.”

“And your overpriced glasses make you look like the fourth blind rat from Shrek.”

“Now that’s too far, he’s a mouse, sweetheart.”

A watery chuckle as his fingers interlace with yours. Satoru leans in, his forehead resting against yours - no care in the world for how contagious you might be. Because fuck if the sickness might not be then these feelings sure were.

“You scared me, y’know.” he confesses.

“I’m sorry. I should have taken care of my-”

“Not that.” Satoru’s unspoken words echo in the small, charged space between you two.

Your heart clenches, understanding. “For that, I am sorry, too.”

Disappointment spikes your heart as he withdraws slightly, hand feeling cold at the sudden absence. But before you can question the impending doom at his mischievous glint, Satoru produces a pen from your top drawer. 

“What are you up to now, Satoru?” you drone, raising a brow at his antics.

“Just a little insurance policy.” he smirks at your confused hum, taking your left hand back in his. Pen poised over your ring finger, ink cold on your skin.

“Insurance policy against what?”

“A promise.”

A delicate infinity sign, it draws your gaze and locks it there. You almost miss the flush creeping up on Satoru’s ears, “Just a symbol, y’know- We can get an actual ring if you want, my mother is actually best friend’s with-”

The sight of him makes something bloom in your chest. It hurt. Not because of fear, but because you felt so full. 

Cutting off his rambles with your lips on his. Steady, and electric, molding together as if they were meant to fit perfectly. A lingering promise. 

When you finally pull away, he huffs out an euphoric laugh. “I was gonna say you look like you wanted to kiss me so bad, but you already did.”

Rolling your eyes, “Think if I tell you something now you can write it off as me being sick and delirious?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Satoru, I love you.”

And that’s all Satoru ever wanted to hear.

“And I love you, in every universe.”

---

The sleep that follows Satoru’s “world famous Gojo family chicken soup” - and that heavy conversation - is the best you’ve had in days. You dream of manta rays in tuxedos, the guests of honor at yours and Satoru’s Nobel prize ceremony.

And, 12 full hours later and finally clear-headed, you find yourself groggily standing in the middle of your room. Blinking in disbelief at the perfectly categorized files of archives, and the sparkling organization of your once-scattered space - Satoru, peacefully snoring at your desk, pen still tightly gripped in his hand.

He…finished all of it?

Your heart clenches, warmth flowering all over your body. 

As you approach, Satoru stirs, those familiar blue eyes slowly opening to meet yours. A dazed smile stretches across his face as he sheepishly scratches the back of his head.

“Got a bit carried away. Guess you really are rubbing off on me, prez.” he chuckles, his voice still laced with sleep. 

“Good then, soon your brain won’t be a black hole of theoretical abstractions.”

Eyes sparkling, he throws his head back to laugh, carefree. “There’s my girl. Feeling better now, hm?”

Your face burns at his words, and his proximity as he stands from his chair to tower over you. Heat radiating off his skin. “Yeah, all thanks to your mother’s recipe.”

“And my charm, of course.”

“Oh, yes, the begging on your knees.”

“Hey it worked, didn’t it? Don’t insult the world-renowned Gojo charm that way~!”

You raise an eyebrow, unable to suppress a smirk. “Yes, yes of course. That world-renowned ‘Gojo charm’ strikes again. Is that why Yaga sent me a gift basket apologizing on your behalf?”

“Listen, sometimes collateral apologies are inevitable. And I learned the hard way that wishing Yaga’s lectures are as riveting as my girl when she’s threatening to drown me in clownfish tanks does not go well.”

A startled laugh escapes your lips, sound bouncing off the once-heavy walls, and you almost miss the captivated expression on Satoru’s face. A tender smile spreads across his lips.

Laughter bating, you throw your hands around his waist in one, fluid motion, relishing at his flustered expression. “We should go to the aquarium again sometime.”

“Mhm~”

A beat of silence. One. Two. 

“Satoru?”

He leans in, minty breath fanning your face. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Thank you.”

Body moving almost subconsciously, your lips crush against his. Hungry and yearning. Kissing each other with a desperation that eclipses the need for air. He didn’t mind dying if it meant suffocating by your lips anyway - both of them. 

You let out a muffled moan as he pulls on your lips, hands snaking down to grip your ass, squeezing possessively. His tongue was sloppy, intertwining with yours with matching urgency. Trapping yours between his ruby lips, sucking so lewdly. 

Large fingers bruising on your waist, pulling you flush against his body till you could feel the incessant banging of his heart against his ribcage - or maybe that was yours. 

His shirt is all but ripped off of him - as is yours, and if you were in a clearer state of mind you’d feel sad at the tattered state of your favorite Steins;Gate t-shirt. But all that flies out of your mind at the creamy skin of Satoru’s chiseled chest. 

You raise your hips to meet the throbbing erection now straining against his pants, fabric stretched and precum forming a pool right at the tip of his leaking head. A low groan is stifled into your mouth, almost as if it hurt to be apart. 

Satoru’s fingers dig into your hips, moving you to grind against his achingly hard length at a maddeningly sensual pace. Up and down, up and down, up and-

A white-hot jolt of electricity runs down to your cunt each time the prominent vein down his side catches on your covered clit, thin panties now soaked with your slick and his precum.

You almost don’t recognize the disappointed whine that leaves your lips as he pulls away, delicate strings of spit snapping.

“You drive me insane, sweetheart.” he murmurs, breathless with lust. 

“The feeling’s mutual, Satoru.”

And it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, probably you by the end of this.

Because with a low, carnal growl, Satoru picks you up as if you weigh nothing. Seating you roughly onto your nearby desk and pinning you down. Papers scattering everywhere in the heat of the moment, rendering his earlier hard work useless. 

Satoru crowds your space, ravaging your mouth, grinding against your heated core till the only thing you can see is him, the only thing you can feel is him, the only thing you can think of-

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. The friction is maddening, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Yet, Satoru, as always, disrupts your plans. Breaking the heated kiss, he trails his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You cry out - both in pain and pleasure - as he continues his assault, digging your nails into his sculpted back.

“I won’t be the first one to cum.” he mutters into the crook of your neck as a hand roams up your thigh, deftly pulling off your shorts. You writhe beneath him as lithe fingers tease the hem of your dripping panties, relishing in the choked gasp that leaves Satoru’s mouth as your swollen lips catch on his tip.

“Oh yeah? Damn well won’t be me either.”

You’ve barely gotten the words out before he tears off your panties, pocketing this pair as well for a lonely night - though, with the way your cunt quivers at his touch, he doubts it’ll be any time soon. “Wanna bet, prez~?”

He plunges his fingers inside you with a savageness that steals your breath away. Easily finding that magical spot, thrusting inside to hit it with scary accuracy over and over. Your plush walls convulse around him, crying out his name. Ah, he missed this. 

But you weren’t gonna sit there and be one-upped. A trembling hand moves down to urgently tug down his tight boxers. Rock-hard cock springing out, glistening with precum, your favorite shade of pretty pink. It made your mouth water. 

Satoru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels your tight grip on his length, thumb swirling deftly under the sensitive slit. Spreading his precum along his flushed head. Torturing him. Warmth pooling at your core at the way he fucks your fist in mindless, shallow thrusts.

“Fuck. You really do drive me insane.” he groans, voice strained with desire as he keeps up the punishing pace of his fingers in your dripping cunt. Both of you unrelenting. Both of you in a fight for the other’s release.

It’s a close tie.

“Oh- oh, sweetheart I’m-” 

And Satoru spills into your hand in thick, hot spurts and pornographic moans. Your fist still pumps up and down his twitching length, milking him for all he’s worth as you tip over the edge as well, walls fluttering around his merciless fingers.

“I win.” you challenge, eyes half-lidded as you still reel from the intensity of your orgasm. Satoru’s fingers quiver inside you as he pulls out with a hiss. Pupils blown-out, the look in his eyes feral.

A slow grin spreading across his lips, words breathless and tinged with a bit of insanity that made your pussy clench, “Best out of three?”

“Always knew you were a sore loser.”

“Nah, I’d win.”

“You’re on.”

Before you know it, you’re being thrown onto the bed, bouncing at the sheer force of the throw - cut short as Satoru looms over you, pinning you down onto the mattress.

His lips graze yours with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as they grind on yours. You moan as his still-painfully hard erection throbs against your wall, head falling back in surrender as your swollen folds envelope him in his favorite heaven. Sensitive - so sensitive. 

Hands moving to your breasts, cupping them, teasing. Rolling your nipples between his deft fingers as your hips buck wildly into his. Precum and slick smearing obscenely. Faster. More desperate. Absolutely filthy. Racing towards the end.

And your voice cuts through the heady air, “W-wait, Satoru, wait. As the winner last time…” Words trailing off enticingly, a hand reaching hastily underneath your pillow. 

Oh, just when Satoru didn’t think you could surprise him any more. 

A jolt goes through his body at the thick, pink vibrator that emerges from beneath the pillow. Sleek metal catching the light, his eyes trailing up, up, up, intimidatingly large in your hands.

Eyes widening, Satoru’s breath hitches in his throat as he watches you handle it with practiced ease. Flip, switch - bzzzzz-

It rings in his ears and resonates through the room. A surprised smile stretched across his lips, despite himself. “Oh, who knew the esteemed student prez was such a little minx. Shit, sweetheart, gonna give me a heart attack.”

“You’re not the only one with lonely nights.” You nod pointedly at his pants - strewn across your bedroom floor and panties stuffed safely in his pocket. 

You bite your lower lip in a way that has probably all the blood in Satoru’s body rushing to his pulsing cock. Aching for something. Aching for you. 

Sensually, you press the buzzing toy against your clit, hips bucking at the immediate and intense stimulation. A jolt of pleasure making you gasp.

Satoru watches, spellbound, as you writhe beneath him - eyes locked so dangerously with his. He can see the slick beading at your folds, pooling onto your bed sheets. 

Impulsively, he reaches out, wrapping a large hand around yours, guiding it to your dripping hole. “Now…” your eyes light up in excitement at his predatory tone. “That’s just playing dirty, prez. I might just cream myself.”

Agonizingly slow, Satoru eases the vibrator inside you, walls clamping down so deliciously. A clever hand draws tight, little circles on your throbbing clit. 

You arch off the bed at the sensation and the stretch - full. So full. Full and so in heaven.

A fresh wave of slick coating the already-glistening metal, Satoru begins to fuck the toy into you, matching the rhythm of the vibrations. Relentless, he was absolutely relentless. Base meeting your swollen lips, tip kissing your cervix. 

It drives you insane. He drives you insane. 

“Fu-fuck Satoru-” Breathing ragged, tears pricking your eyes at the sensitivity, it only takes one two three more thrusts of the vibrator stuffing your cunt before you’re cumming with a loud cry of Satoru’s name, till you see stars behind your eyes. 

“Ah, I’m so glad we made it to the bed this time.” 

“Idiot.”

“Love you too~” Satoru continues to fuck into you mercilessly with it over and over, drawing out your high until you’re left limp and boneless beneath him. The only thing you can do being to take it.

As the shocks of electricity in your body fade, Satoru carefully removes the vibrator. You whimper at the sudden emptiness.

“Round 2 goes to me.” smugness evident in his words, slightly muffled by your lips.

“Shut up and kiss me. It’s the tie-breaker.”

His lips capture yours in a deep kiss. You can taste the salt of your sweat on his lips, and the desperation of the moment. It’s intoxicating. More addictive than any drug in the world. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him against your body - sticky with sweat and cum - till you can feel his rock-hard cock once more. Eager and aching for you. Teasing your folds with his leaking tip, readily spreading for him.

Finally, after what feels like hours - maybe even weeks - of buildup, he sheaths himself in your snug cunt the way you’d been dying for these lonely nights with just your vibrator. And with the way Satoru lets out a low, desperate moan - head thrown back - you think he might share the sentiment.

“God. Hah- Ah you look so beautiful under me, sweetheart. Hngh- wouldn’t get used to this in my lifetime.”

“Then hngh- find me in the n-next.”

He presses in slowly, languidly - a sensuality that envelopes you and makes you keen at the stretch. Finally bottoming out, he savors the heavenly feeling of being completely inside you. You really were heaven on Earth. 

Pulling back, prominent veins grazing that spot just right, he rams back into you with purpose. Savoring you. Torturing you. “Satoru oh- f-fuck me like you hah- mean it goddamit.”

But it’s not long before the great Gojo Satoru loses his handle on himself. Maybe it was the tears clinging to your lashes. Maybe it was the way your legs wrap so tightly around his waist, meeting him thrust for thrust. Or maybe it was the fucked-out whines of his name spilling from your mouth.

Because he’s fucking into you desperately. Feral, deliberate strokes that make you ass sting at the smack of his heavy balls. The harsh slapping of skin on skin echoing in your heady bedroom at his unforgiving cadence.

The air charged so tensely that you could barely breath - or maybe that was the way Satoru’s furious tip kissing your cervix over and over knocked the air out of your lungs. Every nerve ending in your body felt alight with white-hot pleasure, electrifying you from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head - filled only with Satoru Satoru Satoru-

Vision blurry, head dazed so lustfully, you barely notice the way Satoru reaches down between you, his fingers familiarly finding your clit to rub harsh circles on it in time with his thrusts. It’s too much. Ah, you were going to pass out.

Instead, you cum - all over his twitching cock. The sensation almost too much as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Especially when your walls clamp down, milking his cock so sinfully as Satoru spills into your snug cunt.

Balls tightening as he thrusts thick ropes of seed into your dripping pussy, your juices mixing with his as he thrusts animalistically into you, fucking it deeper and deeper. Decorating your plush walls white, cum spilling out of your sloppy hole as it overflows. 

Flashes of light behind his eyes at the sensitivity - pain, pleasure, yearning all melting into one, gooey mess that mirrored his heart right now. Desperate calls of your name leaving his lips like a prayer. Because maybe you were his salvation.

With a moan of pure ecstasy at the feeling of being so full you think you’d explode, you pull Satoru to you, nails dragging down his shoulder and every part of you wrapped around him so impossibly tight. As if you never wanted to let go - and you didn’t.

You don’t, even as you both gasp for air - and sanity. Even as he collapses his sweaty body onto yours, careful to not crush you with his weight. And you especially don’t let go as those dazed eyes bore into yours, a tender moment in the weighty silence. 

Because right now, no words were needed.

“I love you.”

“And, I love you. In every universe.”

Except maybe those. 

It’s only once reality is setting in, exhausted and intertwined so tenderly in his arms, that a sense of familiarity permeates the heavy air. 

“I win.”

An agitating, grating voice that you loved so much.

You let out a dragged out groan, rolling your eyes. “That’s only because I went easy on you.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’d love to prove you wrong, sweetheart, but I think my dick is out of commission for the next week at least.”

A sharp bark of laughter startles its way out of your lips as he bounces you two on the mattress, laying on his stomach and swinging his feet as if he was at some slumber party.

“Soooo~ Now that we’re finally dating, I can finally stop holding back on the quantum entanglement puns, I’ve got a list on my Notes app that-”

“I’m gonna entangle your face with my fist.”

“Jokes on you I’m into that.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“But you love it.”

“Unfortunately.”

---

Gojo Satoru likes to think he’s hilarious. A real connoisseur of the fine art of comedy. The fifth member of Impractical Jokers. 

So, of course, he had to barge into the hell that was his new 8am class with style. Bursting in through the swinging doors, imaginary cape flowing in the wind. Sue him, so what if he’s an attention-whore?! 

His bright gaze sweeps over all the students barely keeping their eyes open, before finally landing on you - on the edge of your seat, brows furrowed so adorably and eagerly drinking in every word Yaga droned on about. Who the hell found advanced quantum physics that riveting?

Intrigue piquing as he makes a beeline to you, Satoru’s heart lurches at that weird little part of him that wishes your attentive gaze was on him instead. Strange. 

Sliding into the empty seat beside you, of course he immediately turns on his world-renowned Gojo charm. You’ll be putty in his hands in no time~!

“Any closer to Yaga and you’d be fucking his wife, y’know.” 

“...”

Okay, maybe that didn’t come out as suave as he expected, but damn, not even a giggle?

You couldn’t blame the guy for getting nervous in front of a pretty girl! Nor could you really blame him for plowing on despite that - not after the jolt of electricity that ran through his body the second your irritated eyes met his. 

Oh wow. So that’s what it’s like to have your soul pierced and buried six feet under.

It was sort of addicting.

And if Satoru thought his knees were weak at just a glare from you - well, he was not ready for the way you snapped at him and told him to shut the fuck up. Ah, truly a woman of his dreams. 

Not even half an hour into the lecture and if you asked Satoru to recall a word spoken by Yaga then he wouldn’t have been able to tell you. The words went in one ear and he couldn’t even remember if it went out the next - too focused on getting your attention on him at least once more. 

He just wished you’d look at him - let him see all the shades of your eyes, and the exact degree at which your lip curls in annoyance. What would that smart mouth say to him next? 

“Now, would anyone here be able to discuss the interpretations in the debate between the Copenhagen interpretation and the Pilot-Wave theory?”

Which is why he positively jumped at the chance to show off his academic prowess to you. Only to find…you teetering on the edge of your seat as well? 

Your voice is even, a fiery glint in your eyes. He’s entranced. 

“The Copenhagen Interpretation uses Heisenberg's uncertainty principle and emphasizes measurement to state that quantum-level particles can act as both waves and particles. It’s the most widely accepted and pragmatic theory.”

Oh. This was going to be interesting.

Heart banging against his ribcage, voice slightly shaky, “Not to be the devil’s advocate but the Pilot-Wave theory makes way more sense practically.”

Thus, Gojo Satoru, in his failed attempts to flirt, starts a rivalry with you that shakes the entire physics department - and his heart. 

He was sure if he told Shoko and Suguru the real reason why he was suddenly spending hours poring over his physics textbooks then they’d definitely laugh their asses off - after giving him a good smack for being so ridiculous. 

It’s not that he didn’t like being on the receiving ends of your snarky remarks and death stares - but it’s just that he also wishes you’d kiss him silly while you do it. God, for someone voted campus hottie three times in a row, why was it so hard to just ask you out?

Which is why, seeing you being dragged into their little circle at that off-brand frat party, he thinks - ah, this might just be fate. 

Silently thanking Shoko for her accidental wingmanning, Satoru watches in amusement as you reluctantly scribble your name on that crumpled piece of paper. And if he slipped in a couple extra with his name on it, well, he was only glad you were too busy cursing his entire bloodline out to catch him.

The smell of cheap beer filling his senses, strobe lights matching the banging of his heart against his chest. Even if he did cheat at the game a little, Satoru didn’t think he’d end the night with your soaked panties burning a hole in his pocket - and the whisper of your lips on his searing even more. He was dazed. 

Was that…a dream? 

It must be, right? There’s no way the gorgeous student prez who hates his guts would suddenly be in the same proximity as him - let alone let him tonguefuck you into insanity. 

You tasted so sweet.

Yeah, must’ve been some hallucination. 

Months later, your soft grumbles in his ear, and your hand warm in his, swinging playfully between you two in the buzzing aquarium - a part of Satoru still thinks he’s hallucinating.

“Slow down, Satoru! The fish aren’t going anywhere.” you huff as he flits excitedly from tank to tank, eyes sparkling like a kid in a candy store. Yet, you couldn't help the beginnings of a smile curling at the corners of your lips at his childlike excitement.

“Can’t! I couldn’t show you this last time, even a hardass like you’d love it.” 

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by the breathtaking sight before you.

A grandiose tank - a kaleidoscope of an underwater world that stretched beyond your field of vision. Hues of blues and greens glimmering before you. Marine life you wouldn’t be able to name - no matter how many hours of watching NatGeo - in an ethereal dance across the water.

“Last time we were here we talked about multiverses. I know now, I hope that in every universe, we’ll be here together. Standing side by side, watching the deep blue and arguing about physics.”

Eyes widening at the beauty - and his words - you turn to Satoru, only to see his piercing gaze already on you. Satisfied grin bathed in a soft blue light from the tank, his twinkling eyes reflecting you and the lights and you. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

“See? Didn’t I tell you you’d love it? I’m always so great at these thi-”

You shut up that big mouth - with your lips on his. 

Tender and weighty - as if you two had all the time in the world. And, your hands electric under Satoru’s touch, cold metal of the infinity sign searing into your ring finger - you think you probably do. Because Satoru’s tastes like candied apples and everything you could ever want. A promise.

“T-told you I was irresistible.” 

Confident words, muffled by your lips. You pull away with a disbelieving huff of laughter, and you’re glad you did - because you catch a glimpse of the nervous twinkle in his eyes and the flushed cheeks betraying him.

“You wish.” you chuckle, brushing your fingers over his cloudy white locks. That familiar, easy grin tugs on the corners of your heart, and for a moment - just this moment - it feels like just the two of you in this bustling aquarium. In this uncertain world.

“Sure do.” he whispers, as if a secret - meant for just the two of you. 

“Now, my prez, wanna go to our little booth at the café and debate the Copenhagen interpretation and the Pilot-Wave theory?”

A/N. Can you tell the title was inspired by Go For It, Nakamura?

Also so sorry for posting only sporadically this week, for some reason my posts refuse to show up under any tags and as a creator that’s really discouraging. But here’s to next week being better hopefully!

Plagiarism not authorized. 

Taglist:

@bbyxxm @maskedpacific @mrs--imperfect @dunixxd @scarammouch

[criminalamnesia]

everyone’s asking for a part two so here is more angst bc cedar by gracie abrams is perfect for this [ also inspired by what @shotmrmiller said in their reblog :)) ]

part one here

part three (aka version 1 of the ending) here

part three (ending version 2) here

it’s odd coming home to an empty house. unnerving, even. he doesn’t like it— dislikes it even more than he did your celebrations. fuck, he’d kill for those damn streamers right now.

“love?” his voice is soft as he calls out into the dark, once lively little flat. it hasn’t felt this big since before you had moved in.

he takes a few more steps inside, toeing off his boots and letting his backpack fall to the floor. by now, you would’ve been launching yourself into his arms. where were you? you’d never missed the day he came home. ever. you would have it marked on your calendar from the day he left, exclamation points and stars decorating the date.

“love?” he calls again, his voice a little louder. he keeps moving; notices there’s no smell of freshly baked goods or a home-cooked meal.

he rounds the corner, his eyes instantly finding the little note propped up on the dining table. eyebrows furrowed, he approaches. it’s addressed to him, clearly in your handwriting.

he reads it, and he really should’ve seen all of this coming.

he doesn’t cry. doesn’t even feel sad, really. it’s not like he hadn’t loved you— he had, but sometimes you made it really damn difficult to. your constant touches and words, doting on him, talking his ear off about this and that. he’d loved it at first, then came to tolerate it, and eventually he found himself hating it.

it wasn’t fair to you. he didn’t hate you, he hated the naivety. the unconditional love. partners were supposed to show each other that kind of love, were they not? so why did he come to despise it?

perhaps it was some deep rooted self-hatred. something dark and twisted inside of him that had done too much and taken life. killed and killed and killed. watched his comrades die in a number of ways. slowly. quickly. suddenly. brutally.

it hollowed him out, but it was his job. it was his job to do what he could for the damn world— get his hands dirty so people like you would never have to worry about a damn thing.

he should’ve seen it coming. you had been acting a little odd the last time he was home, he realizes now. detached, almost. quieter. he had cherished the quiet then.

now it was weird. he didn’t know how to feel.

he placed the note back down onto the table before making his way into the kitchen. some utensils were missing. some plates and bowls. the colorful dishrags you’d hung from the stove handle. the little plant you’d stationed in front of the window above the sink.

all the pictures of the two of you remained on the fridge. he could see in the photos how he slowly became detached. but you— god, you wore that dazzling smile in every photo.

he turned around and headed towards the bedroom.

——————————————————————

there wasn’t really any defining closure. you’d left the note, sure, but he hadn’t gotten to speak his piece.

would he have begged you to stay? told you to leave?

he didn’t know. all he knew was that it wasn’t fair to you, how he acted. what he did.

he also knew that if you called, or if you showed up and said you forgot something, or hell, if he saw you on the street, he’d say something. apologize at least, because that’s the least you deserved.

but you didn’t, and after a few days, he stopped thinking about you. what you’d be telling him right now if you were there. stopped thinking about how you sang when you cooked dinner. how you would reach for his hand when the two of you were in the grocery store.

how you would throw those damn ‘welcome home!’ parties.

he fell back into who he was, and your memory became nothing but a minuscule dot on a large piece of paper.

but for you? you had been miserable when you’d shown up at your friends apartment. cried into her shoulder as you told her about the note. sobbed as you realized that he didn’t care about you, and how you’d wasted so much time on this man who didn’t give a damn.

but even still, when you stirred in the middle of the night, you expected to feel his hands around your body. expected him to press a kiss to your head as you drifted back to sleep.

you woke up and expected him to be there. you forgot that he wasn’t yours. you found yourself missing him, even though you’d starting doing that far before you actually left.

it took the man you loved days to move on. it took you months— almost a year. he put you in fucking therapy, for god’s sake, because that shit messes with someone.

loving someone so completely, so wholly, only to finally realize it’s one sided? it’s crushing. he crushed you. but you picked up the pieces, and you put yourself back together.

you move on. find someone who actually cares for you— someone who communicates and doesn’t lose interest. someone who appreciates your enthusiasm. someone who returns it.

and when the man that broke your heart several years ago tries to stop you on the street one day,

you keep walking.

[blkkizzat]

❛ MY SHORTY ALWAYS ON SOME BULLSHIT LIKE CHICAGO ❜

part of the 420 'We Be Burnin' dispensary series

⋙ MENU ITEM: PLUG!CHOSO x SORORITYBRAT!READER ⋙ PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 (completed)

⋙ product description (summary): you can't stop fucking your drug dealer with the big dick but you can't let your reputation be ruined by actually dating him��he'll just have to deal with it—or is it that he will end up dealing with you? ⋙ side effects (tw): cunnilingus, car sex, backshots, riding, dick sucking, sex for drugs, slut reader, reader being a huge bitch lmfao. slightly black girl coded but no descriptors. this is just p1 tw, p2 will have its own lol. ⋙ thc levels (wc): 3.9k of 22.1k ⋙ inventory notes (a/n): best viewed in dark mode. had to split it up into two parts because i wanted to post on time for 420. barely made it lol!

Plug!Choso who you walked all the way across campus to meet, nervously waiting in the almost always empty parking garage underground level. You don’t even really smoke weed but sorority elections are coming up soon and if you can be the “cool one” to get everyone lit on 420 (as your last plug recently got busted) you could secure a lot more votes. Sure, you were going to an extreme length to win but the last 4 generations of your family have been president of this chapter at your university. You didn't think your mother would even let you back in the house this summer if you didn’t win. So reluctantly, here you are. 

Plug!Choso who when he finally pulls up intimidates you with his looks when he rolls down his window as he’s all dark hair, piercings and tattoos. You want to just do the transaction through the window but he tells you to “get in”. You were a new customer and he had to vet you first to make sure you “weren’t 12.”

Plug!Choso who laughs in your face when you angrily slam the door taking offense and yelling at him if he ‘that regardless of your baby face he was fucking blind if he really thought you looked like a 12 year old.’ You turn up your nose at him but quickly are made to feel like an idiot when he clarifies he meant 12 as in the cops. You blush even harder when he says ‘he’d never mistake anyone with tits like yours for being that young.’

Plug!Choso who you only end up hooking up with because your sorority sisters short changed you. How the hell were you supposed to know an ounce was $250!? You ask if he could let you have a deal at $150 as that's what your old dealer Mahito sold it for before he got busted.

“S’cause his shit was weak, princess. Shouldn’ve even been payin’ that much to be real with you. This is that dank shit and if you want it you gotta pay. I ain’t running a charity.”

You ask if you can pay via venmo, cash app, anything but Choso only takes cash.

Panicking as you did not have $100 extra bucks in cash it’s you who suggests if you could you pay it off in a different way. 

Plug!Choso isn’t one to get sexual favors for weed as he had bills to pay and a baby brother to take care of, but your cute prissy ass reminds him so much of girls from his high school. The ones who’d only ever looked at him back then with disdain. Who came from stable families, were spoiled rotten and thought anyone who didn’t live their perfect cookie cutter life was trash. Choso wasn’t a virgin but he’d lived a damn near celibate life for the last few years, he could use a little stress release from a lil’ snobby thing like you.

Plug!Choso who you only agreed to give a handjob to and you unbuckled the belt on his tattered black jeans as he sits back and lights a joint. You roll your eyes and steel your nerves with a breath as you pull down his boxers. However the sight of his freed cock immediately has your inner slut going crazy. 

How is it that you can’t fit your pink manicured nails completely around his thick shaft?  

Why did his dick have to be so pretty fully erect, red tip throbbing as he pusles in your hand when you tease his frenulum with the pad of your finger? 

And just what's gotten into you now? It's shameful how you're rubbing your thighs together just from seeing him throw his head back while biting his lip to keep from whimpering. You have his sculpted hard abs trembling from you flicking over the bent barbell of his prince albert piercing. 

The silver reflected even in the dim garage lighting as his thick pre collected in drops on the ball of the piercing before dribbling down your hand. You unconsciously wet your lips. You know you only said a hand job but you wanted a taste—badly.

It isn’t long before you are giving into your cravings and talking him fully into your mouth needing a taste of him and forcibly gagging around his girth curious to see how much his cock could have you choking. 

Plug!Choso’s eyes flew open and he almost dropped his joint once he felt the hot n’ slick wetness of your velvety tongue slurping up the pre leaking off his piercing and taking him fully into your throat until he was hitting tonsils. 

Yet it’s because you are the massive slut that you are, it’s an even shorter amount of time before you pop him out of your mouth, lift your skirt and slide your panties to the side in order to bounce on him raw in the driver's seat. He makes you cum so hard your squirt splashes to drench his pants and even hits his dashboard and steering wheel. He reluctantly has to lift you off him at the last minute so he doesn’t come inside, further soiling you and his car. Choso doesn’t mind though as seeing you getting that messy for him made him hard all over again— and he pulls you into the backseat for round 2 which consists of you face-down ass-up getting the backshots of your fucking life.

Plug!Choso who you quickly start secretly hooking up with on the regular. Seeing as everyone loves how hard his shit hits they send you more frequently to pick it up. You pretend like it's a minor inconvenience but your stomach clinches in anticipation thinking of his fat cock inside of you. Of course, you aren’t disclosing to your sorority sisters how his dick hits even harder than his than his weed. You shiver just thinking of it carving through your guts ruthlessly every time you fuck. 

Plug!Choso who you are now secretly texting ‘cowboy’ and ‘eggplant’ emoji whenever you want your doonies beat down— regardless if you are getting weed from him or not that day. However when you are sent to get weed from him, he isn’t even charging you any longer. He tells you to keep it and get a new full set. You always manage to fuck up your acrylics bad when you are with him. Not your fault he fucks you so good you are desperate in the moment to cling to him, the handles, the dashboard— whatever you could get your hands on to grip to keep from loosing your mind as you always end up fucked absolutely dumb. 

Plug!Choso who you end up low-key dating but you are still a huge bitch to him in public. Acting like you don't know who he is when you see him. Tsk, you were just begging for him this morning to meet you in the ‘usual spot’ in the near abandoned campus garage lot so he could fuck you. You treated him like he was dirt beneath your shoe whenever you’d see him even though you’d be crying on his cock beneath him just a few hours prior. Choso thinks it’s disrespectful and annoying as fuck but he just deals with it. It's not like he's caught feelings or anything yet.

Plug!Choso who puts up with your shitty attitude and being your dirty little secret as you are the best— and only pussy— he’s had in a while. Not to mention you are always super sweet to his brother Yuji, who adores you. Choso didn’t intend to ever have you meet him but he ended up having Yuji with him one day. He had to pick him up out of the blue as an emergency near the same time he was supposed to pick you up from the nail salon. 

Although you had even got a fresh wax at the salon and were ready to show it off, finding Yuji, all of 7 years old, in the backseat was an immediate buzz kill. Initially expecting Choso to tell you that’s his kid, a pang of guilt ran through you when he explained his little brother who he takes care of got sick at school and needed to be picked up right away. You weren’t answering his calls or texts and he didn’t want to leave you hanging without a ride. 

You don’t tell Choso you’ve silenced notifications from him (in case one of your sisters were to see his name popup). Instead, you offer to cook Yuji soup when you learn it's only Choso solely taking care of Yuji. Especially after Choso confesses he was just going to pick up a can of chicken noodle and some crackers from the store. 

Heart fluttering at how gentle you are with Yuji in contrast to your usual demanding and bitchy nature, Choso curses at himself that he might be falling in love with you. Although he is well aware his feelings would never be reciprocated by you. Nevertheless, as a ‘thank you’ for dinner, after putting Yuji to bed Choso eats you out for 2-hours straight on the sofa. You end up having to stuff your soggy panties in your mouth to keep your cries in and not wake up Yuji. The way Choso is sloppily munching on your pussy has you cumming deliciously back to back to back on his thick pliable tongue. 

Plug!Choso who after you end up fucking more at his house, a mile or so away from campus, rather than his car these days. In fact, it isn’t even all about sex anymore as you spend the majority of your time over there helping Yuji with his homework, baking cookies, playing games and movie nights with the two of them. 

Once Yuji would go to bed Choso would bring you to the basement to smoke you out before he fucked you out. It’s during one of these smoke sessions though you learn that Choso actually got a full ride scholarship to go to the same university you do now 5 years ago but one quarter into his first year his parents had both died in a tragic accident. Yuji was only 2 then and the thought of losing the only family he had left to foster care was not an option for Choso. When the time came he stepped up to the plate and didn’t think twice about dropping out. 

However fast food jobs and grocery store shifts weren’t cutting it. He’d have to spend nearly all day and night away from Yuji just to keep a roof over his head to afford his late-parent’s mortgage. Dealing, although dangerous, was the best option and being the actual genius Choso was, he was smart about it. More guilt fills you always assumed anyone slanging drugs on the street was a burnout who couldn’t cut the real responsibilities of life. Yet Choso already had way more responsibility than anyone his age should have had.

You had sorely misjudged him.

Plug!Choso who realizes sooner than you do the closer the two of you become the harder it is for you to juggle Sorority life and Choso and Yuji— it’s almost as if you are living a double life. Truthfully you are, in a way as you are always sneaking off. Choso wonders what lies you tell your sorority sisters to be gone most weeknight evenings and weekend mornings. The lies of ‘labs' or ‘volunteer work’ wouldn’t likely cut it much longer. When you’re not around, Choso reasons he should probably cut things off with you before the inevitable fall out happens. But he always reconsiders when Yuji kept consistently inquiring as to where his ‘pretty lady girlfriend is’.  

Choso doesn’t have the heart to tell Yuji you aren’t his girlfriend yet. 

Plug!Choso who starts inviting you to Yuji’s little league games on weekends once Yuji expresses with abundant enthusiasm he wants you to see him play! The little guy, who is not so little for his age, is actually pretty athletic. Adorably every home run he hits he always makes sure to wave to you and Choso in the stands. Grinning widely Yuji blushes at your praise and cheering for him, which makes you just want to cheer harder. Your high school cheerleading experience finally coming in handy again. You go so often that sometimes other parents mistake the two of you for Yuji’s mom and dad. You always hastily respond “I’m just a family friend!”

A family friend. Not Choso's girlfriend. 

Plug!Choso whose jaw clenches whenever this happens— not that you ever notice. What the fuck were you doing if you weren’t dating? Yet Choso knew he couldn’t be completely mad at you as even after 3 months he still hadn’t technically asked you to be his girlfriend. Still that fact angers Choso too as he knows he hasn’t because he fears— no he knows— you wouldn’t say yes. Choso picks you up and drops you off blocks away from campus. You also managed to deflect every suggestion for going out on an actual date night on the town when Yuji is over his friend's Megumi or Nobara houses. Also you sure as shit don’t invite him to the many greek life parties you attend (not that he even wanted to go— I mean he would for you. If you'd ask him). Hell, you don’t even follow him back on IG and he knows better than to like or comment on anything other than your stories which goes straight to your DMs. 

Plug!Choso knows you have a reputation to protect and how it would look for the tall n’ scary pierced n' tatted emo drug dealer to be the one by your side. Choso eventually resigns himself to live in the shadows of your life for now. Choso would just have to work harder to pay off the house so he could stop dealing and be someone you’d want to show off (even if deep down he feels he will never be good enough).

However this all comes to a boil a few weeks later the morning of the championship game for Yuji’s little league. As their star player Yuji was so excited to be in his first championship and made you pinky promise you would come. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, kiddo!” You lovingly beamed at him. 

But you lied.

You did miss it. 

Finals and the sorority election week had come up fast out of nowhere and hit you like a whirlwind. As a result you saw little of Choso and Yuji in the days leading up to it. Yet at the end of the week you emerged victorious, both in keeping up your 3.8 GPA and winning the election for sorority president. You were so ecstatic on both accounts that you partied hard the night before Yuji’s big game.

Coincidentally forgetting about it entirely as the next morning was the Annual Greek Council Brunch event to officially inaugurate all new Greek council members across all sororities and frats. As newly elected president and since your sorority was hosting this year it was your job to throw it. It was a huge event that even parents and chapter alumni attended. 

Plug!Choso who smoked 3 cigarettes as he waited for you for nearly 40 minutes before he knew he had to leave soon or he’d miss the start of the game too. Deciding to drive by your sorority as a last ditch effort Choso sees red when he spies you on the lawn giggling and flirting with the campus caterers as you direct them to the back of the house. You looked gorgeous, all dolled up, hair done and make-up flawless. The dress you wear looks expensive, something he might even be able to afford to buy you if he wasn’t making triple mortgage payments each month to cut the interest and pay off his home faster. However, he can't deny the baby blue checkered fabric looks great on you. A fact Choso notices the caterer douchebags didn’t miss either as they fall a few steps behind you to check out your plump ass and rib at each other.

Plug!Choso who knows the reasonable thing to do would be to just drive away and avoid any conflict. Although before his mind registers it his body is already flicking his cigarette butt out of the open car door before slamming it shut as he storms across the lawn of your sorority house. Reaching the back of the house Choso was taken back by how grand everything looked. A sea of pristine white tables adorned with arrays of bouquets, fine china and crystal glasses that sparkled divinely in the morning sun. The event was still in setup mode so more flowers, decorations and adornments were being brought in by the second by workers brushing past Choso like he wasn't even there.

In any other scenario a grand display of refinery such as this would have Choso feeling self-conscious and out of place. He is aware as good as anyone else how sorely his dark looks contrast with the peppy and airy vibes of greek life.

However, all that flees out of his mind as soon as he sees you near the DJ booth—now having the nerve to shamelessly flirt with him too. 

“Yo, princess.”

Plug!Choso who seems casual from his tone but the look on his face is anything but. You on the other hand looked as if you had seen a ghost as all the color drains from your face. 

“Choso!”

You squeaked out a greeting as your head whips around to see who all was around.

Phew! Thankfully it was mostly staff and the greek members who were helping with setup were still inside.

But what the fuck was Choso even doing here?

You started to get pissed as he knew better than to roll up on you like this and today of all days!? 

“Come on, let’s go, we're gonna be late.”

He grabs your arm which you quickly snatch back from him giving him an incredulous look as if he just sprouted two more heads.

“What the fuck Choso, you can’t just barge in here like this! Have you lost your mind?! What are you even doing here?!” 

You try to keep your voice hushed as you pull him to the side of the DJ booth trying not to draw attention. 

“Nah princess, the question is what the fuck are you doing here?”

Irritation was dripping from Choso’s words who clearly didn’t give a single fuck about how loud he was being or the boundaries you’d set around your school life and it made your blood boil. He knew this was a busy week for you and you wouldn’t be around as much, he couldn’t wait a few more days!?

What right did he have to be here right now?

Let alone be this upset with you? 

You roll your eyes as you scoff. 

“Well as I am the newly elected president of this sorority it's my job to throw this brunch! I’ve had a really long stressful week and this is a really big event for me. My first event even! I have so much–”

“—Fuck! Are you really this clueless?!”

Choso angrily snaps at you and you are visibly startled into silence as his interruption immediately shuts you up.

He’s towering over you now and you’ve never realized before just how much bigger than you he was. His personality was usually so chill and unassuming that it shrunk his overall presence.

Come to think of it you’ve never even seen him angry before, annoyed sure, but he was clearly mad mad now.

“I– Me– My— Goddamn it, do you really think of no one but yourself?!”

The DJ, who had been overhearing your conversation tries to butt-in to white knight for you but is quickly told off by Choso who tells him ‘walk the fuck on while he still had legs that could walk’. The advice which was expeditiously taken as the DJ quickly left the conversation just as fast as he’d entered it.

“Choso– what the—”

Choso doesn’t let you finish, cutting you off again.

Fed up with this, you and whatever twisted situationship you currently had— he needed to say his piece. 

“—I’ve been waiting for you for almost an hour, princess. Does your self absorbed lil’ brain even remember why?”

Your own anger is quickly dissipating into confusion as you cannot fathom what in the hell Choso was even talking about. It takes you a few good moments but your eyes widen once you realize.

Oh shit…

“Umm…Y-Yuji’s big game, isn’t today– is it?”

You meekly asked but you already knew the answer. 

“Bingo, princess! You’d promised him you’d be there. Do you know how much he’s been looking forward to this? It’s all he’s been talking about. Do you know how crushed he’s going to be if you aren’t there?!”

Shit! Shit! Shit!

You knew balancing seeing Choso and Yuji with your increasingly demanding school life was starting to get more challenging but you didn’t realize you’d fuck up this badly.

You really didn’t want to disappoint Yuji, who at this point felt like your own little brother that you never had —but you’d be prepping for this sorority presidency nearly your entire life! 

Your parents were even coming to this! 

Shit, which reminds you Choso cannot be here when they show up. 

Plug!Choso who knows he’ll have to speed now when he leaves if he wants to make the first pitch of Yuji’s game and makes one last ditch effort to get you to attend, but of course it fails.

“Choso, I– I can’t. I want to... but you know how important this is to me. My family. They will be here soon too I—”

Choso tunes out the rest of your excuses as your mention of ‘my family’ had cut unintentionally deep.

You’d gotten so close to him and Yuji that you did feel like ‘their family’. But you weren’t and it was the foolish hope that you could one day become that Choso selfishly indulged in.

He could deal with the hurt, he was used to life shitting on him but it wasn’t fair to Yuji. 

“There he is! That’s him!”

The pussy ass DJ had gone and gotten back up as a group of frat guys in suits rushed over. The commotion was also drawing a few of your sorority sisters and you curse under your breath as a small crowd forms and all eyes draw to you.

“It’s okay guys, he’s clearly lost and is leaving now, right?”

Your voice is bitchy but your eyes are pleading with Choso.

You're pleading with Choso: Not to ruin the event.

Not to be angry with you.

And not to make this situation any worse than what it was. 

“Wait— this guy? He’s that burnout dealer, yeah?”

One of the frat guys chime-in and there's laughter and giggles around.

“Oh my god, it is! He's like so obsessed with her. I always see him creeping around.”

One of your sisters adds with a sneer.

“Not a stalker! Ew!” 

Another one adds.

“What does this weirdo even want with you!?”

More of your sisters chime in.

Choso doesn’t care though.

He only cares what you think. What you’re going to say.

Your phone dings and you look at it. Shit. Your parent’s just arrived on campus.

You didn’t want to do it this way but you had to end this now.

It was better this way. That’s what you would console yourself with later at least.

“Look—Choso was it? This is a private event and you need to leave.”

You turn to your sisters to explain further. “I tutor his little brother for my volunteer work and he somehow got the crazy idea that I was going to go to some little baseball game with them or whatever.”

You turn back to Choso.

“Well— as you can clearly see. I can’t go. I’m busy and like I said this is a private event so again, you need to leave, understood?”

You turn away not being able to stomach the look on his face like a coward and make up some excuse about checking on the ice sculpture which should have been already placed on one of the center banquet tables. 

You know he’s left from the jeers of ‘bye loser!’ ‘fuck outta here freak!’ echo out from the garden. 

This was for the best after all….

….right? PART 2

⋙ ©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

⋙ lol y/n is a huge bih who doesn't deserve our sweet baby. no worries though she is gonna learn her lesson good in part 2 where she finds out shit ain't so sweet lmfao. lmk if you wanna be tagged in comments/reblogs. eta— omg there were so many errors lmfao see this is what happens when i dont re-read my shit 50x before posting lol. i fixed it! sorry to anyone who read it before lol. ⋙ reblog to smoke on choso's joint but comments and likes are appreciated!