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margin of error: part 2
satoru gojo x fem reader, 2.8k words mdni
in which gojo makes some progress…?
contents: student teacher!gojo, student reader, no curses, college au, slight age difference (gojo is 20, you are a couple years older), he falls first, no smut (for now)
notes: here we go again. as always comments/asks are appreciated. (image citation)
part one | part three | read on ao3 | read on wattpad
Gojo’s pleasantly surprised when you’re the one to initiate the next conversation.
He looks up from his work and spots you hovering by the door to the study room where office hours are set to take place. It’s been a slow day, though to be honest it’s always a slow day when it comes to office hours. Usually people don’t need much help with an intro level course, especially not this early in the school year.
“Is Shoko here?” you ask, hugging your bag to your chest as you look around.
“Just me today. Can I help you with something?”
After carefully weighing your options, you step forwards into the room. “I was going to ask her to go over the stuff from class this week. We usually run through Yaga’s powerpoints.”
Nodding, Gojo opens his laptop and pulls Canvas up. You take a seat across from him, still a little reluctant, eyeing him with what might be dislike but is more likely distrust.
“Just this week’s stuff?” he asks, glancing up at you.
“Mm-hm.”
It’s not a lot of material, nor is it anything particularly challenging, and as Gojo reviews it with you he wonders if this is just some ploy to get closer to Shoko. She is pretty, and although Geto had said you like guys that doesn’t rule out the possibility that you’re into women as well. Besides, there’s no way you’d really need to go through such basic stuff, right? Not when you’d just been taught it the day before.
Your concentration suggests otherwise. He’s surprised by how seriously you take his explanations, jotting down notes and stopping him in several places to ask more questions. By the time he finishes, you seem to have a much firmer grasp on the material.
“Thank you,” you say, putting away your things. “That was helpful.”
He frowns. “You sound surprised.”
“I am, but you’re actually a pretty good teacher.”
The praise catches him off guard, hidden beneath a tone that suggests indifference. His brows furrow for a moment as he tries to get a read on you, though he schools his expression quickly.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” he replies, deciding to take your words at face value. “Shoko’s pre-med track is picking up, so she’s just going to be helping with labs outside of class.”
“Yeah, she told me. I didn’t realize it would happen so soon though.” Biting your lip, you take a moment to think. “Is it okay if I stop in after the next lecture?”
“Of course,” Gojo says, already drafting a victorious text to Geto in his head. Nothing too smug, just something along the lines of ‘I’m totally her type she wants me so bad.’ Because that’s gotta be what you’re thinking, right? Asking to come back again so soon?
Getting to your feet, you scoop up your notebook and tuck it under your arm. “Thanks. I’ll see you in class, Gojo.”
You disappear into the hall, shutting the door behind you with a soft click. He sits back, already dissecting the encounter in his mind. It seems that you praise of his teaching abilities had been genuine after all. Definitely progress, not to mention you’d remembered his name this time.
The days grow shorter as October wears on. Gojo’s own school work begins to pick up, though of course most of it poses little difficulty for him. There’s only one class that he thinks might cause problems down the line, and that’s Creative Writing.
“How the hell did you land in Creative Writing?” Geto asks, pouring boiling water into his teacup. “That doesn’t exactly fit your M.O.”
Gojo groans, resting his cheek on the kitchen counter. “It was a last minute edition. I forgot we’re required to take a language arts class, and I’m not going to have time to do it next year.”
Setting down the kettle, Geto leans back against the kitchen cabinets. “I think it’ll be good for you. What’s on the syllabus?”
“Poetry,” Gojo spits, managing to squeeze several cobras worth of venom into that single word. “Who thought having a well-rounded education was a good idea?”
“Not me, that’s for sure. I’ve got a mandatory life sciences class coming up.” Geto pauses, leaning forwards to put himself in Gojo’s line of sight. “But who knows, maybe you’ll be my TA. Just don’t flirt with me too much, I hear you’re quite the distraction.”
Peeking out from beneath the curtain of his bangs, Gojo smiles. “So she said I’m distracting?”
“I think her exact words were ‘pain in the ass,’ but yeah, something along those lines.”
He goes back to sulking, his skin still pressed against the cool stone of the countertop. When he speaks, his voice is muffled.
“Did she really say that about me?”
Shaking his head, Geto smiles faintly as he straightens up. “No, I’m just messing with you. She did tell me that you’ve been helping her with her work though.”
So you’d talked to Geto about him, and by the sound of it you’d had positive things to say. That’s good to know, especially given how impossible it is to read you. Even after meeting a couple more times, Gojo has no idea what’s going on in your head.
“Do you think she’ll show next week?” he asks.
“At the party? Could go either way. I invited her, but she hasn’t gotten back to me yet. It’s hard to pin her down about that kind of thing.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Gojo says, sounding thoughtful. “In case she ever asks me to pin her down.”
He laughs at Geto’s irritated expression. “C’mon, you know I’m kidding.”
“No you’re not.”
“No, I’m not,” he concedes. “But I mostly said it to annoy you.”
Geto checks the time on his phone, pushing off of the cabinets and returning to his neglected mug of tea. Fishing out the bag, he tosses it into the compost.
“You’re not really going through with this, are you?” he asks, taking a sip and wincing as he burns his tongue.
“With what?”
“With the whole ‘I can make her fall for me’ bit. It’s kind of messed up.”
Leaning back, Gojo crosses his arms. He’s pulled this kind of thing before, winning hearts just for the hell of it, and though Geto has never exactly approved, this is the first time he’s said anything outright.
“Are you sure you don’t have feelings for her?” he asks.
Geto sighs, raking his free hand through his hair and pushing it out of his eyes. “I told you it’s not like that. Is it really so hard to believe that I care about my friend’s wellbeing?”
“No, I guess not, though I don’t understand what you’re so upset about. She’s an adult who can take care of herself, right? That’s what you said last time.”
Geto’s phone buzzes before he can answer. He scoops it up from the counter, unlocking it. “Utahime says she’s on her way to drop off drinks for the party.”
The phone vibrates again as another text arrives.
“…And that she’s going to start charging a service fee if we keep asking her to get us alcohol.”
“That seems like a pretty empty threat,” Gojo says, grateful for the change of subject. “I doubt we’ll throw any more parties before I turn twenty-one.”
“God, I hope not. I’d like to get at least some of our security deposit back.”
Shoving his phone into his pocket, Geto sets his tea on the counter and turns away. “I’m going to meet her outside. I’ll text you if we need your help carrying anything.”
“Okay, just let me know!” Gojo calls after him, reaching for his phone. It’s muted before Geto’s even had time to shut the door.
Gojo bounces his knee under the desk, neglecting the poem that he’s supposed to be annotating. Creative Writing has been even more of a pain than he’d expected— something about it just doesn’t click with him. He sighs, frowning as his eyes drop to the paper.
To Gojo, pretty words are a means to an end. They’re good when he wants something, but when it comes to writing he can’t see much value in them. Why use something in a hundred words when one will do? And why curate those hundred words when they’re not even necessary in the first place?
“You look unhappy.”
He jumps at the sound of your voice, looking up to see you standing in the doorway.
“I’m fine,” he says with a smile, shoving the paper under his computer and safely out of sight. “Just doing some homework.”
Part of him wants you to push the subject, to question him about his behavior and ask if he’s alright. But you don’t. Instead you take your seat, pulling out your notebook and setting it on the table just like you always do.
“I was looking at the study guide for the next test, and I think I might’ve missed a couple things in class. Can we go over it?”
“Sure,” he says with a pang of disappointment. “Which parts are you having trouble with?”
All of them, it would seem. Gojo sneaks a couple covert glances at the clock, trying to work out whether or not you’re going to run overtime. Office hours technically end at 5:30, but he has the feeling that you’re going to need longer than that.
Shit. He’d planned to meet up with a girl at 6:00. At this rate there’s no way he’ll be able to make it.
“Is something wrong?” you ask, pausing to massage some life back into your cramped wrist. Even from across the table Gojo can see the indent in your middle finger, left there by the constant pressure of your pencil. His own hand twinges in sympathy.
“One sec, I just realized that I forgot to text Suguru back about something.”
He pulls out his phone, drafting a ‘sorry-I-won’t-be-able-to-make-it’ text. Out of the corner of his eye he sees you stretch, tracking the way your shirt catches on the underside of your bra. Suddenly bailing on his plans doesn’t seem like such a bad thing.
“I didn’t think I’d need so much help,” you say, checking the time and wincing when you see how late it is. “I can try and figure out the rest on my own if you need to go.”
Sending the message, Gojo shoves his phone into his pocket and turns his attention back to you. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like I have anywhere I need to be.”
Hopefully you won’t catch him in a lie by following up with Geto, though maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing for you to know he’s prioritizing you over other women.
“Ready to keep going?” he asks, placing a hand on the study guide and spinning around it to face you. You nod, picking up your pencil.
It’s fully dark out by the time the two of you leave the library, a combination of the days growing shorter and the extra hour or so that you’d spent together.
“I’ll walk you home,” Gojo says, holding the door open.
You pause inside the foyer. “Try rephrasing that.”
“Um.” His mind races as he tries to figure out where he went wrong. “…Can I walk you home?”
He half expects you to flat out reject him, but you brush past, slinging your bag over one shoulder. “If you really want to.”
He leaves the door to shut itself, shivering at the sudden drop in temperature. It’s chilly out, a stiff breeze sweeping autumn leaves onto the sidewalk. They crunch under his shoes as he hurries to catch up.
“Thank you for staying late to help me,” you say, hugging yourself to keep your hands warm. Damn, he should’ve brought a jacket. What a missed opportunity— you’d look good draped in one of his coats.
“It’s no problem,” he says. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“Were you working on your Creative Writing homework when I came in?”
The question throws him for a moment, but of course you know about his stupid writing class. He’ll have to ask Suguru about what other information he’s spilled to his advisory chat.
“Yeah. I’m supposed to annotate a poem, but it’s really not my forté.”
“I thought you were good at everything.”
He huffs out a sigh, the cold condensing his breath into a little cloud. “I am, but that doesn’t mean I like everything.”
It’s a long moment before you reply. The wind tosses around the branches overhead, filling up the silence between you. Somewhere in the distance a siren wails.
“Are you doing anything later tonight?” you ask.
Folding his arms behind his head, Gojo spins to face you, walking backwards like a campus tour guide. “Is that your way of asking me out?”
You frown. “What? No. I was just trying to make conversation.”
“Aw, that’s a shame. I would’ve said yes.”
Skirting around a pile of leaves, you readjust your bag, moving it to your other shoulder. “I know you would have. You’re not very subtle, Gojo.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, dropping his arms back to his sides.
You narrow your eyes. “Don’t be coy. You’ve been hitting on me for weeks.”
So you’re aware of it then.
Logically, he’d known that you can’t be that oblivious, but some part of him had been holding out hope that maybe you are. Because the other possibility is that you don’t react because you’re genuinely not affected by him, and that’s uncharted territory. Everyone likes Gojo. Even people who don’t know they like Gojo like Gojo.
Still, he can work with this. The fact that you brought it up might actually make things easier.
“I guess you’ve figured me out, so there’s no point in hiding it.” He pushes his glasses up his forehead, making a show of mustering up his courage. “I really like you, and I want to get to know you better.”
You look past him, focusing on something else. “You’re going to trip on that stick if you keep walking backwards.”
“You’d catch me though, right?”
“Probably not.”
Sighing, he turns to face the path. The stick is there just as you said it would be, and he nearly trips on it anyway.
“Aren’t you going to say you like me too?” he asks once he’s regained his composure.
“Wasn’t planning on it.” You stop to grab the stick, tossing it onto the grass. It lands with a crunch in a drift of leaves. “But it doesn’t really matter either way.”
“It does to me. You’re not even going to give me a chance?”
You reflect on the question, then shake your head. “No. If you were telling the truth maybe I’d consider it, but I doubt you’re really interested in me.”
He frowns. “That’s a little harsh— you should be more confident. Hasn’t anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?”
“Yes. They have. My self esteem isn’t the problem here. I just don’t trust you.”
It’s almost eerie the way you say it, completely devoid of emotion. Had they been delivered in any other way the words would sound accusatory, and yet somehow he can tell you’re not angry.
“But I’m telling the truth. I really do like you.” His gaze meets yours, earnest and pleading. The look is calculated of course, but he’s played this game enough times to know how to fake honesty.
You study him for a moment before turning away, exhaling in what he’s almost positive is a laugh. “Now I know you’re lying. Next time put your glasses on first, your eyes give you away.”
The two of you slow as you approach your dormitory. Your calmness is throwing him off; this isn’t how things are supposed to go. He slips his glasses back over his eyes as the streetlights become more frequent.
“So, what?” he asks, running a hand through his hair. “You think I’m telling you this because I have ulterior motives?”
“Something like that.” Stopping in front of the building, you turn to face him. “Not that I mind. Ulterior motives or not, you stayed late to help me study and I’m grateful for that. I can put up with some flirting if it means you’ll keep helping me, just don’t expect me to reciprocate.”
“And what if I’m being honest?”
“Then I’d tell you not to get your hopes up,” you say, starting up the steps. “Thanks for walking with me— I’ll see you around.”
Gojo waits a moment, watching as you scan your ID and pull open the door. He’s not sure whether or not to count your conversation as a win, still mulling it over as he sets off for his apartment. You’re definitely on to him, but at the same time you don’t seem to mind his advances. There’s only one thing that he’s 100% certain of: that he has a lot of questions for Suguru.
#self insert#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x reader#second person#jjk self insert#mdni#margin of error tag
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okay people i gotta know -
if you do one very rarely dont say that you do it lol, i really wanna know how many people are using the tagging system
#if i dont tag this though am i skewing my own results?#polls#but what could i tag it with to get the taggers to view it#this poll is already inherently flawed im sorry#we will have a wide margin of error lmao
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whenever a ship poll results with the vote percentages being ~49% and ~51% just know that actually neither of those ships won and the real winner is kim dokja x traumatizing everyone
#all hail the otp#orv#kdj#uhhh#ships#yeah#thats adequately tagged#margin of error of <1% and the demon king of salvation reigns supreme#alternative ship would be yhk bc of 51!kdj and his role in the whole time loop thing#but eh
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The newest PMEX leak just dropped and has finally freed these two characters from their no alt jail after literal YEARS
Congrats to Wallace and Clair enjoyers fr 🫵✨✨✨
#fluff speaks !!!#pokemon masters#pokemon masters ex#pmex#pmex spoilers#pmex leaks#adding a quick margin of error tag for whoever’s seeing my tags and doesn’t wanna be jumpscared with the spoilers ————————————————————#Wallace looks absolutely insane I love it actuallyAKDJAKDJKAJDJJSD#THEY REALLY WENT “GIVE HIM THE FRUITIEST ALT IN THE ENTIRE GAME /POS#I love how whimsy and silly it is I can’t lie it makes me wanna pull even though I’m hella broke from my still-unsuccessful Sycamore pulls#LIKE IT’S JUST SO !!!!!! COLORFUL !!!!!!!!!! AND FUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ✨✨✨✨✨#Clair can match with her cousin now for New Years and I think that’s so lovely 🥺🥺🥺#I don’t even have Lance’s alt man but god it’d be so perfect to put them all together in a team like that#the dragon taming duo !!!!!!!!!! 💥💥💥💥💥💥
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🦋
#i keep thinking about that post about insulin on&off and i think its bc it makes me feel hypocritical to be so affronted by it#seeing as homegrown medicine is like. my whole Thing&the reason why im alive lol.#but i think i finally figured out what bothered me so much&i guess i kind of noticed it immediately too bc i kind of mentioned it.#i had to learn medicine to survive which means all my experimentation was done entirely on myself.#&it was traditional medicine that was being made w/o western tools or help for literally centuries.#&i did it to keep me alive long enough to get LIFE SAVING medicine. the kind of medicine insulin is.#&i have never been anything other than openly disgusted w the fact that i had to do all that to survive.#i do practice on ppl now when i can but these ppl ALSO have no other options&im not prescribing life saving meds.#&most importantly like i said in the tags on that post it feels v condescending to use insulin as a point#when you yourself do not use homegrown insulin-- or insulin in general.#i obviously know anarchistic medicine is necessary&lifesaving. but i also think that the medical advances weve made thus far#as a species should be readily available to the ppl who need it w/o having to risk dangerous methods to potentially get it.#it does not take a huge margin of error to kill someone w bad insulin. not by any stretch of the imagination.#downplaying it to 'but its so easy to make' feels incredibly inappropriate from ppl who DO NOT need it to survive.#idk maybe im just looking for reasons to justify myself so i dont feel like a flatout hypocrite lmao.#but in my head somewhere this makes sense lmao.
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people always talk abt desire sensors for things like RNG and gacha pulls or whatever. the real desire sensor is f*ndom dot com not updating its cache until after i go to bed even though it updated yesterday an hour before tonight's bedtime
#ylimespam#this is a bit incoherent but bsically cache Should be updating every 24 hrs more or less within a margin of error#i s2g fandom knows im refreshing the page anxiously when its close to 24 hours since the last time. and purposefully doesnt refresh#but then on nights where i didn't sit there and refresh it just clears the cache at like. a time where i would've been awake anyways#also what the fuck my tags are in blue bubbles. fancy new editor ig woooaaa#anyways in this case the cache updated yesterday at midnight on the dot. it is now midnight 52 and no update#i know i should go to bed and waiting for it to refresh before i go sleep is probably futile. But#but what if....
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I'm like 95% sure I was supposed to use a script file to calculate that, but did I do it by hand? Yes.
#Me calculating the margin of error from the standard error: Wait am I even supposed to know this?#to clarify it is a fisheries management course that uses statistics but statistics isn't a prereq#i've taken statistics though because i am sexy and smart#LITERALLY THOUGH IF THERE WAS A SCRIPT FILE I COULD NOT FIND IT#i literally went through and calculated the density and variance and standard error and margin of error and confidence intervals all by han#i am demented#also does anyone else HATE that you can't use commas in tags#because i do
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. . . ꒰ TEMPTING
Warnings: afab body and breasts, reader is referred to with you/your only. PIV unprotected sex, edging, prone bone position, thigh job, pwp (plot what plot). This is sort of a continuation of another smut i posted but you can read this without reading the first one.
Word count: 1.9k
A/N: uhg. lilia. i love him. i love general lilia. thats it that all i have to say.
₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ♡ 🌷 . . KOFI | TWST MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS
Whenever a window of opportunity to rest presents itself, you’ll sit on the nearest tree stump or log available, idly watching what happens around you.
You see soldiers' training, sparring, fixing tents, and the general dividing tasks among his subordinates with a stern voice. Lilia’s an example of what being a leader means—not limiting himself to delegating labor, but also lending a hand.
He grabbed the handle of his lithic weapon as he sparred with one soldier; with practiced ease, Lilia unarmed the soldier. The general reprimanded the other fae for losing his footing over a basic movement.
Lilia plans tactics for ambushes furtively, aiming to attack the enemy’s weakness first. Deft and sharp.
Soon, you’d understand that the general isn’t used to docility of any kind. Neither giving nor receiving. A war general shouldn’t allow a margin of error, steps should be given with precision and intent on subduing your adversary.
You recalled your first intimate night with Lilia. You remembered the sensation of him holding back, and even then, he still did a number on your body. You’ve spent enough time with the fae to know that the moment you try to point out any attempt at tenderness on his part, he would deny it.
You couldn’t help but find it endearing. And your curiosity increased the more you wondered about to what extent you could tease him and make him lose his constraints. Lilia’s libido was pretty responsive to what you did or said, so it wouldn’t be difficult to push him in that direction.
The moment the soldiers were already in their tents, you sneaked into the general’s.
“I’m heading to the lake to wash off the dirt,” you said as you entered the tent. You found your fae writing something down on the map splayed across the table.
Lilia acknowledged you with a hum.
You sighed. “I don’t wanna go alone. The woods become frightening the moment there’s no more sunlight, you know.”
Lilia dropped the pencil and looked at you. “A little dirt on your body’s not going to kill you,” he teased.
“You know I can’t sleep like that. I sweated a lot today, too. Baur made me accompany that expedition group to the mountain’s skirt in the morning,” you complained. “I promise it won’t be long.”
You sensed that he was about to give up.
“And someone could sneak up on me and see me naked.”
That was enough argument for the fae to stand up from his chair and rush to tag along with you.
This was your favorite moment of the day, when you could not just finally go to bed but also freshen up with clean water. Even if the temperature might be a bit chilly during the night, the fresh water was welcomed to clean you up from the dirt and sweat that clinged to your skin.
“The water feels nice,” You hummed as you dipped your toes into it. Lilia was more concerned about making sure no one was near, though, his ears flicked at the slightest suspicious sound.
You began undressing in front of him, as you have done many times before. Even with your back turned towards him, you could feel his stare roaming around your flesh.
You carefully entered into the serene lake until the water covered your chest.
“Lilia,” You called out to him again. His gaze returned to you. “Why don’t you join? You look like you need this, too.”
“You said you wouldn’t take long. I still have work to finish.” He crossed his arms, gripping his lithic.
“Just this once,” You almost pouted. “You’ve been busy these past few days. I miss you already. I’ll even help you wash your back.”
You held Lilia’s stare before he, for the second time today, humored you. Soon, his clothes were untidily placed next to yours.
Beaming with joy, you hugged Lilia the instant he was within reach.
“General, your hair’s getting wet,” You hurried to help him fix his hairstyle in a way that the inconvenience would be resolved. “There. All done.”
Lilia grumbled about something meaningless as he allowed you to scrub his back, washing off both dirt and dried blood and uncovering new lacerations he had gained from recent ambushes. You traced them with your fingers, leaning closer to kiss those scars.
You couldn’t see Lilia’s expression, but you did sense his body’s temperature going up.
“Mm, you’re so warm,” You relished the warmth from the fae’s body. Your tits pressed flush against his back, and your hands roamed around his front—feather-like touches teasing his chest and abdomen. You were aware that your words and actions were leading in a certain direction, so before Lilia beat you to it and followed through with it, you pulled away from him. “It’s getting chilly, though. Let’s head back already.”
In the blink of an eye, Lilia gripped your wrist and pulled you towards his chest. Your backside making contact with something hard and hot, nudging in between your thighs.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Hm? I thought the general had work to finish,” You feigned innocence.
“That can wait. Right now, I need to have you.”
“But we’re in a lake! Someone could walk in on us. Let’s head back to the tent,” Ignoring the evident ache in your body, you did your best to deter him. For fun. To test how far you could make him wait. If not for your determination to uncover the fae’s strength, you would’ve conceded.
Under the promise, the general’s complaint had died for the moment.
Once in the tent, you were preparing to go to sleep, until a sudden force pinned you against the bed. A small squeak left you, and the familiar arms squeezing your waist made you understand that your little teasing reaped an interesting reaction from him.
“Lilia—” You tried to gain some balance by trying to prop your torso up with your hands, but the general immobilized you by further pinning your legs against the mattress with his.
“You little tease, you think I wouldn’t notice what you were trying to do?” He brushed away the hair covering your nape to nip at the sensitive skin there. “If you wanted me to rough your body up, you should’ve just asked for it,”
This was what you wanted, although you didn’t imagine it would be this soon. If this little teasing got you to this point, you couldn’t imagine how he would be if you had done more...
One hand slipped under your underwear while his other hand covered your mouth in time before a moan escaped you. With his index and middle fingers, he began rubbing your clit in circular motions.
“I’ve been treating you with so much leniency you’ve forgotten who you’re dealing with,” His breath against your ear made you shiver, and a renewed sense of pleasure overtook your body. “I’ll have to remind you,”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” You managed to whisper, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible but failing with how he played with your sex. Lilia really did know you inside out.
“You were already wet when I slid my hand under your clothes. Don’t try to act coy now,” He seemed to be amused, above all.
You clutched the sheets as you lost yourself in pleasure, your head falling against the pillow and using it to muffle your voice. You barely register Lilia pulling your pajama pants down and off your legs.
The fae grew eager, having a sliver of enough composure left to discard your underwear, but your uncoordinated and trembling body made the task more complicated than needed. Instead, he pushed it to the side, his fingers not once faltering in stimulating you.
A muffled whimper of his name. Not even a second later, Lilia stopped his movements.
“Noo, what’re you doing,” You protested, not expecting him to halt. “I was about to…”
“Aw, you were about to. What a pity,” He mocked you, momentarily freeing your body from his antsy hands to remove his own garments. Once done, you felt him spread your slicked pussy lips with his thumbs, eyeing you up with a satisfied, complacent grin. “You like being treated like this. You have no salvation, do you?”
Despite not being able to deny it, your face burned from embarrassment. Even if Lilia tended to put your pleasure first and holds back from going all out, the change in that tactful demeanor into a meaner one still excited you.
While holding you open still, he grinded his cock between your folds, using both his pre-cum and your arousal to lubricate it. You were growing impatient, and thus, tried to grind back against him to incite him into already giving in.
Lilia rested his weight against your back, his chest flush against it, weighing you down. Lilia dug his fingernails into your flesh, while demanding that you stay still. His fingers went back to playing with your clit, using your sticky inner thighs to pleasure himself.
After what felt like forever, the tip prodded inside, taking his time to stuff you with more of his dick. He pulled back until the just head was in and thrust with more strength. The feeling of Lilia’s warm body embracing yours and his thickness stretching you almost made you forget about holding back your voice.
From the very moment you conceived the idea of teasing him, to Lilia not allowing you to touch yourself or him, the buildup to your orgasm approached faster than what you expected. As if both factors weren’t enough, you were still sensitive over the climax you were robbed of prior moments ago.
You mewled, trying to reach behind you and hold his hand to ground yourself.
Instead, the fae grabbed your arms and pinned them against your back, his pace not stuttering for even a minute.
This was what you wanted—for him to be rougher…and within a couple more smacks of his hips against yours, you came hard around him, broken moans of his name escaping from your bitten lips. Lilia quieted himself by kissing your shoulder the moment he released his cum inside.
Sore and spent, your head collapsed forward against the pillow again. You heard Lilia’s amused chuckle, resting next to you while keeping an arm wrapped around you.
“I wasn’t too rough, right?” He muttered after a while in silence, his eyes inspecting your body. “Does it hurt somewhere?”
“My arms, you gripped me too hard,” You mumbled. “I didn’t notice it at the moment because…it felt nice…”
At your confession, he looked taken back by it before his expression shifted into a relieved one and he chuckled. “I should’ve known you like being treated like that. You are quite keen about my fangs, and I’ve noticed how your body melts when I bite you,”
Before you could fawn over the coy visage that took over his eyes for a split second, it faded away with the same ease it appeared as he turned his head to the other side.
“I love it when you’re trying to be gentle, even if you’re not that great at it,” You teased, your fingers brushing his hair. Lilia grunted, suddenly grumpy about you pointing that out. “But I also enjoy it when you’re rough,”
He humphed, still avoiding facing you. You smiled at him, despite it not being visible to him. You closed your eyes, feeling exhaustion getting to you.
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leveling the playing field // epilogue
summary: seven years later.
pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader
wc: 2.7k
masterlists / nav / requests
tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. this part is quite tame! idk, discussion of the games as a concept is pretty messed up? obviously r & coryo are both delusional but whats new??
a/n: this is it :') thank you all so so so much for all the love on this fic! it means so much to me that you guys enjoyed it! but don't get too sad (like me) bc i am not ready to let them go so i'll probably do like blurbs and stuff ab this series so stick around for those!
series masterlist // playlist
~ seven years later ~
"You've got this, Darling. It's going to be perfect." Coryo insists, kissing your temple as you relentlessly adjust your hair, trying to tame any imaginary flyaways in your flawlessly straightened hair.
"As long as it's not a disaster..." You mumble, giving up on your hair and refocusing on making sure you have all your papers.
Arena map? Check. Tribute and mentors list? Check. Schedule?
"With you in charge, I do not doubt that it will be anything short of flawless. I know you. You wouldn't have it any other way." Your husband assures you, taking your spot in front of the large mirror to adjust his red coat, matching to yours.
You sigh, tucking the large stack of meticulously organized papers into your bag. "I mean, does anyone honestly expect it to be perfect? It's my first games... There's a small margin for error, right?"
"No." Coryo replies sternly, turning to face you. He grabs your chin as you groan, forcing your eyes to meet his. "There's no room for error, but it will be perfect. So don't worry." He plants a gentle kiss on your lips. "And if you need anything, just call."
"Okay..." You hum, smiling as you look up at him. "I'm going to miss you, though." Your smile shifts into a pout, and he kisses your forehead.
"I know. I'll miss having my assistant around, too." He mumbles against the softness of your skin.
Your time working together under Dr. Gaul had been a dream. Why did everything have to change all at once? You've been together every day for years, and you had the most fun helping plan the games and pitching all your ideas to Dr. Gaul, staying up late over ideas due the next morning and too many cups of coffee, giggling over how funny it would be to see a games where the people of the Districts got to vote over who to send in.
"Do you think it's because that's kind of what happened to Lucy Gray?" You giggled in the dark, feeling Coryo's form shift under the blankets next to you before you felt his breath hit the side of your face.
"Now that you mention it..." He laughed quietly. "Yeah, it totally was."
You had always come up with Dr. Gaul's favourite ideas together. But now, she was gone. And it was just you. You honestly thought that woman was some kind of immortal beast, but clearly, no one is fully bulletproof.
She had offered the position of Head Gamemaker to both of you in her will. You and Coriolanus had worked well together, she had always said that about you. That the two of you were her favourite experiment.
"No, Darling. You take it."
"What? No, we've always done everything together." You protest, furrowing your brow. "She's offered it to both of us, we can do whatever we want, no more waiting for her approval. We can run with it! Come on, it'll be so fun, Coryo."
"That's your dream. Not mine." He smiled at you, brushing his thumb over your cheek.
You frowned, focussing yourself on pulling the buttons of his shirt so they were perfectly aligned. "Are... Are you sure? I don't know if I can do it without you."
"You'll never do anything without me, you know that." He hummed, pushing your hair out of your eyes. "If you need help, just ask. I'm right here. Always."
"I'm not an assistant anymore." You laugh. "Technically, you're kind of my assistant now." You shrug, leaning down to pull on your shoes, white with bottoms red to match your coat.
"Okay, well, I wouldn't put it like that..." He laughs, shaking his head at you and holding out a hand to steady you while you adjust yourself to accommodate your heels.
You take it gratefully, standing up and brushing off your coat once more with your free hand. "Be honest, Coryo, do you think the bear is too much? I feel a little like it's cheating, they don't even really have a chance. Do you get what I mean?"
"Darling," He cups your cheeks in his hands. "No one will be able to look away. That's the most important part."
"I just... I want it to be something different. Something people will still want to watch."
"Everyone will be watching." He assures you. "Now, let's get going. You have a big day ahead."
"Yes sir, Mister President."
"My name is Lucretius "Lucky" Flickerman, your favourite and only host of the annual Hunger Games on Capitol TV, and I have a very special treat for you all this morning before the beginning of the games." You gently remove your coat as you sit down across from Lucky, holding it out for someone to take before the cameras flit your way, though the live audience can already see you.
"For anyone who lives under a rock, this beautiful woman here with me is our lovely First Lady of Panem, and now, Head Gamemaker, Dr. Y/N Snow." He continues as your coat is taken away, and you smile across at him. "Thank you so much for squeezing us into your very busy schedule. Now, how are you feeling about today, Miss Snow?"
"Doctor is fine." You correct him politely, to which he utters a quick apology. "And I am feeling very good about my first games. Dr. Gaul left some big shoes to fill, but I've been working with her for years so I have some really exciting ideas that I just can't wait for the world to see."
"Yes! I'm certain you do." Lucky grins. "Now, I don't know how much of our audience will remember this, but the first time we met was during the tenth games, I was hosting for the first time and you and your husband were both mentors! Just young academy students with some big dreams, isn't that right?"
You laugh, nodding as he speaks and letting the cheers die down. "Yes, I remember that. All of us were kind of getting a feel for how things would work, and my husband was actually the one who came up with the ideas of betting and sponsorships. He has truly always been such a leader, and so smart. He was the one who asked Dr. Gaul if I could help him with his mentorship, and she agreed, and then she just really loved how well we worked together so she kept us around to study under her all these years. It has been such a fun and kind of... fulfilling journey for us both."
"And now, here you are." He nods at you.
"Here I am." You echo it back to him, waiting for another question.
"Now, we have to address what can only be described as the elephant in the room..." He starts, and you try and hide your confused look as you straighten your posture. If there was some kind of problem you should have been made aware before you set foot on stage. "That summer, after your mentorship. Tell us. What happened? Both of you disappeared off the face of the earth right after your success in the games, then came back with these shiny new internships under Dr. Gaul, how did you swing that?"
"Oh!" You laugh, partially relieved it wasn't about these games, but hesitant because everyone knows better than to bring up the tenth games in any sort of detail. "Well, that was the beginning of our internship with Dr. Gaul, and she wanted us to gain some life experience, so we did some touring of the Districts on our own to get to know the people of Panem better. Neither of us had ever left home before, so it was definitely a unique experience that I think was really good for both of us. It was a super secret thing, for some reason. We weren't even to tell our families."
"I see! Well, I hope you learned everything you sought out to?"
"We did." You nod. "And more."
"Okay, well, with that cleared up, tell us more about the games you have planned for us this year. Is there anything new we should be expecting?"
"Oh, definitely." You nod, smiling wide now that you can once again talk about your games. "But I wouldn't want to spoil anything, so everyone will just have to watch." You shrug.
"I don't know if you are aware of this, Dr. Snow," He leans in a little closer, smile on his face. "But one new thing that we know for sure is changing this year, is that the president, your husband, has made it mandatory to watch the games. Not just here in the Capitol, but everywhere in the Districts as well. He made an announcement just this morning, he wants everyone to see what you've worked so hard for."
"Aw." You blush, pressing your hands to your chest. "That's so sweet! No, I didn't know that." The audience eats up your reaction, and you try to keep your eyes on him instead of acknowledging all the clapping and shouts from below you.
"Well, that's just about the cutest surprise! He has a lot of confidence in you." He laughs, reaching over and patting your leg. "You've all heard it here, he's just as good a husband as he is a president!"
"It's true." You agree, hardly audible over the crowds enthusiasm.
"Speaking of your husband..." He says, turning back to look into the wing of the stage and nodding at someone. "He set us up with a little surprise for you, if you don't mind."
"Oh, please." You laugh, covering your face as your cheeks heat up. "Of course he did." You shake your head, whistles from the audience not helping your blush.
"Okay, you can look now. Don't hide!" Lucky laughs, and you lower your hands from in front of your face to be presented with a bouquet of white and red roses. It wasn't an extravagant gift from him, the amount of roses he has gifted to you since your return from Twelve together is astronomical by now, but it's a gesture you cherish nonetheless. You smile as you take them.
"Beautiful, as always." You grin, making a point of smelling them before handing them back to the assistant who's waiting with a vase for them.
"And we have one more thing here, I believe..." He hums, looking back again while you're distracted passing off the wrapped flowers.
When you turn back to look at him you gasp, hands flying up to cover your mouth, fearless of whether or not you would smudge your lipstick. "Is that for me?" You ask, voice higher in octave from the excitement as one of the stagehands walks out with a small dog, fur dyed a soft shade of red with a matching bow around its neck.
"Indeed it is!" Lucky laughs as you're handed the puppy.
"Oh my god..." You smile, tears brimming in your eyes. "Hi there..."
"I think there's a note for you there too..." Lucky urges you and you grab the tag tied onto the bow. "Mind reading it for us?" He says, holding his handkerchief out to you.
"Thank you," You laugh, dabbing under your eyes with your free hand. "A new assistant to match your shoes." You read, laughing at the inside joke.
Everyone laughs, and you get from Lucky's confused expression that you should explain. "Uh, working under Dr. Gaul we would always joke that he was my assistant and vice versa." You laugh, wiping your eyes again before you continue. "I am so proud of you. Finally, the world will see you as I do. Intelligent, strong, and beautiful. Unstoppable. That's why I love you, you're as pure as the driven Snow."
The audience awe's, but you know none of them get it the way you do. "Another inside joke." You nod at Lucky, trying to hold back from crying so much you turn into a mess.
"I stand corrected. That is the cutest surprise." He points to the dog in your lap. "Both literally and figuratively."
"I don't know what I'll do with it." You laugh, shaking your head as the puppy jumps up against your chest, trying to lick your face.
"How about a name, to start?" Lucky prompts you.
"Oh, gosh. Well..." You giggle, lifting it and setting it back down so it will sit in your lap. It's so small, hardly bigger than your hands. It'll likely never grow larger than your lap. It's perfect. "What about Lucky?" You tease.
"Oh, you flatter me, Y/N. Come on, something better."
"I don't know!" You laugh. "I'm not good at naming... things."
Lucky laughs. "Our Head Gamemaker with no ideas? That seems unlikely."
"Okay, okay. You're just putting me on the spot here, I'm a little nervous." You laugh, stroking over the dog's head. "I tell you what, before the games begin this morning I'll come up with twelve names, assign them randomly to the districts, then whoever shall win the games will determine the name of my dog. Does that sound fair?"
"Ah! That's brilliant!" Lucky laughs, clapping his hands together. "And that's a good incentive for anyone who hasn't yet placed their bets or sent in donations for the tributes! Your donation may just be what gives the First Lady's dog its name. How fun!"
"It'll be interesting." You giggle, looking down at the puppy in your lap. It must have been white before the dye, it took so well. Maybe it will fade into a pink before it grows out its natural white fur- you wouldn't want it to stay red forever, but for show, it was perfect.
"Now, we really shouldn't be taking up any more of your time. You have a busy day ahead!" Lucky says and you nod in agreement, standing up and carefully tucking the small dog under your arm. "Thank you for making time for us, I know I'm looking forward to seeing what you have in store for us."
"Thank you. I really hope you all enjoy the games!" You smile, holding out a hand for him to shake which he takes quickly, then allowing you to walk off the stage.
As predicted by a certain Mister President; Coriolanus Snow, your first games as Head Gamemaker went without a hitch. They were perfect in every way. Capitol citizens were buzzing- not just about the games, the mutts you incorporated into the newly decorated arena, or the most shocking kills, but also about your dog. The people loved her, and so did you. She hardly ever left your lap or your side for the duration of the games, which only lasted a matter of days.
The party your husband threw for you at the presidential palace, your home, at the end of the games was extravagant. Coryo couldn't help but broadcast his pride to all of the Capitol. He loved you; you were his, and he needed everyone to know. Not a soul in all the world was anywhere close to being on your level, and shaping you into the perfect wife and First Lady was what Coriolanus Snow considered his greatest achievement. As you stood next to him, his palm tucked neatly against your lower back, you were perfect. More perfect than you were the day you fought for a spot in the mentorships that he granted you, more perfect than the he first time he kissed you, and more perfect than both of the days he had killed someone for you. Without question, he would do it all again if it meant he would get to hold you even just one more time.
"I'm so proud of you, Love." He gently rubs your back, looking down at you while you overlook your garden from the patio off of your bedroom.
You smile, standing up on your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Snow lands on top." You whisper, biting your lip when you see a shift behind his eyes.
"You bet we do." He hums with a smug smile, lifting you up and carrying you back inside.
And somewhere, thousands of miles away in the Northern shambles of a still recovering District Thirteen, while you and your husband are celebrating, Sejanus Plinth and Lucy Gray Baird share knowing, sorrowful glances when it's announced on the crackling radio that the winner of the Seventeenth Annual Hunger Games was a boy from District Two, and because of this, the First Lady of Panem's dog shall be called Sage.
taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey , @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney
taglist is closed for coryo unfortunately, but my requests for him are open!! so send me all your suggestions!! requests here!!
#tbosas#coriolanus snow#hunger games#tbosas x reader#tbosas fic#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus x you#coriolanus fanfiction#coryo x reader#coryo snow
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Why the Phantom Thieves are banned from Dave & Buster’s
(Don’t take these too seriously, I’m just shitposting with no serious thought or edits)
Makoto: Roundhouse kicked a 40-year-old guy who tried to hit on Futaba and sent him to the ER
Futaba: Hacked the speakers and played unhinged nightcore dubstep remixes, was asked to stop, and proceeded to bass boost them
Akechi: Was one point away from setting the record on their DDR machine before he fucked up and proceeded to punch the screen hard enough to break it
Haru: Got WAY too into a game of laser tag, several children left crying
Ryuji: You know that one clip of the dude letting go of the bowling ball way too late and hitting the ceiling and breaking the sprinklers, flooding the whole place? That. He did that.
Ren: Used his third eye to play the rigged claw machines and beat their 1 millimeter margin of error, emptying two full machines worth of prizes before being asked to leave
Morgana: Was a cat
Yusuke: Was so appalled by the food that he snuck into their kitchen to prove he could make something more appetizing and more aesthetically pleasing. Got halfway done before getting thrown out
Shiho, who’s totally a canon member of the Phantom Thieves and always has been: Immediately helped Yusuke break back into the kitchen to finish the food. Also befriended a heard of 12-year-olds and had them distract security to buy more time
Sumire: The only one who’s still allowed in, but hasn’t had much reason to go since Akechi broke the DDR machine
Ann: Tried convincing the manager to let everyone back in, which ended in a shouting match after the manager turned out to be an asshole
#persona 5#persona 5 royal#persona 5 strikers#persona 5 headcanons#persona 5 tactica#goro akechi#ren amamiya#akira kurusu#makoto niijima#ann takamaki#ryuji sakamoto#yusuke kitagawa#shiho suzui#futaba sakura#haru okumura#morgana#phantom thieves#I headcanon Shiho as actually being really great with kids#phantom thief Shiho#sumire yoshizawa#kasumi yoshizawa#P5R#I am obsessed with phantom thief Shiho and will spread the propaganda until I die
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margin of error: part 4
satoru gojo x fem reader, 2.1k words mdni
in which gojo asks to walk you home
contents: teaching assistant!gojo, student!reader, no curses, college au, slight age difference (gojo is 20, you are a couple years older), he falls first, no smut (for now)
notes: as always comments and reblogs are appreciated! thank you for reading (image citation)
part one | part two | part three | read on ao3 | read on wattpad
It’s fully dark by the time you leave the restaurant, and the rain has picked up. Loitering beneath the awning, Gojo digs through his bag and pulls out his umbrella.
“I’ll walk you home. If you’re okay with that.”
The ‘if you’re okay with that’ is clearly an afterthought, tacked on to the end of the sentence to make it sound like a question, but you don’t call him out on it. Instead you just nod, and to his surprise move a little closer.
“Can I share your umbrella? I forgot mine.”
“Of course,” he says, holding it out for you. Stepping out into the downpour, the two of you begin the trek back to your dorm. The sidewalk is deserted, silent except for the sound of rain on the pavement and the last of the summer leaves rustling overhead.
“The food there was nice,” Gojo says after a few moments. “I’d never been before.”
“I like it there. It’s quiet, and they don’t mind me bringing my work.”
Looking around, Gojo realizes he hasn’t spent much time in this part of town. The buildings here are older, the pavement shaped by the trees that grow alongside it. In a few places where the stones are especially uneven, someone’s taken the time to spray paint around them as a warning to others.
“Can I take you there again sometime?” he asks.
You turn towards him. “That depends.”
Just as he’s opening his mouth to ask what exactly it depends on, you stumble on a crack in the sidewalk.
Gojo nearly drops the umbrella in his haste to steady you, his arm snaking around your waist to keep you upright. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I just wasn’t looking where I was going.”
Your eyes are back on the path, but you make no move to shrug him off. Instead you lean into him, pulling away only after you feel him tense up.
“Sorry. I was getting rained on.”
“I don’t mind,” he says, forcing himself to relax. The arm around your waist tightens a little, drawing you closer, and he can feel his pulse pounding in his ears.
When’s the last time he felt this nervous?
“Are you doing anything for Halloween?” he asks.
“Probably not. I might get takeout. What about you?”
“Suguru and I usually watch horror movies.”
It’s not technically a lie. The two of them always marathon 90’s slashers a few days in advance, but on Halloween night their activities tend to be less wholesome.
“You won’t be going out?”
You’re looking at him; he can sense it. When he turns to meet your eyes the first thing he’s struck by is how close you are. How easy it would be for him to close the gap between your lips. The second thing he notices is the knowing expression on your face.
Sighing, he looks away. “Yeah, I’ll probably go out.”
“You don’t have to be ashamed about it. I’m not going to judge you for having different interests than I do.”
“I know, I just…”
…Would say just about anything to end up in your bed.
“…don’t want you to think less of me,” he finishes lamely. You lean your head against his shoulder, and some idle part of his brain wonders what shampoo you use. It smells nice.
“I’m not oblivious, Gojo. I know you go out on the weekends, and that you sleep around, and honestly it’s not something I care enough about to factor into my opinion of you. Suguru and I have been friends for about a year now— it’s not like I live in a vacuum.”
The use of Geto’s first name stands out to Gojo, sending a pang of jealousy through him.
“Call me Satoru,” he says. “Please.”
He winces at how desperate he sounds. You’re quiet for a long moment before you reply.
“I think I’ll stick with Gojo for now.”
That stings a little, but he doesn’t bring it up again, choosing to focus on other parts of your statement. “So if you don’t care about my reputation, what do you include in your opinion of me?”
“The things that you say to me.” You pause for a moment, reflecting on the question. “...And also the things that you don’t say to me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Even in his own ears he sounds exasperated.
“Hm, I’m not sure how else to put it.”
Again you pause, and Gojo glances down to see you lost in thought, your lower lip caught between your teeth. He swallows, looking away before you can catch him staring.
“You don’t flirt with me as much any more,” you say at last. “I know you want to, and that it’s your first impulse, but you don’t do it and I appreciate that.”
“I thought you said you were okay with some flirting.”
“I am. But I like it better when you don’t. It makes me feel like you actually want to be my friend.”
Gojo frowns, unsure what to make of that, but is granted a brief reprieve as the two of you pull apart to skirt around the edges of a large puddle. He leans out over the water to keep the umbrella above your head, shaking off the droplets of rain that begin to collect at the ends of his hair. A moment later you’re back at his side and his arm is settled around your waist again.
“So you don’t want me to flirt with you, but you’re fine all pressed up against me like this?”
“Does it make you uncomfortable?” you ask, dodging the question.
“Not at all. I like it.”
“I do too.” You let your head rest against his shoulder. “You’re warm.”
The pavement smooths to unblemished tarmac as you cross over onto the school’s campus. Gojo realizes your dorm is only a couple blocks away, and his heart sinks. He doesn’t want to say goodnight just yet, not when he feels like he’s finally having a real conversation with you.
He tries to quell his rising anxiety, but when he speaks there’s still hesitation in his voice. “…Would you like to come back to my place?”
“To do what?”
It’s a good question. One Gojo doesn’t have an answer to. “I’m not sure.”
“I can’t tonight. I’ve got an 8am tomorrow.”
Right, he should know this. It’s the women’s lit class that Geto’s in as well. As you near your dorm a sense of dread begins to build in him, like the time he’s shared with you is slipping away. He tightens his grip on you without meaning to, and though you look up at him in surprise, you don’t comment on it.
The two of you part ways just outside the building, pausing so he can say goodnight. His side feels cold without you.
“That was nice,” you say. “Thank you for dinner, and for helping me study.”
You’re standing above him at the top of the accessibility ramp, resting your elbows on the dripping railing and looking down at him like a princess in some unassailable tower. He tilts his head back to meet your eyes, his pale outline carved into the black fabric of the umbrella.
“Thanks for letting me take you out,” he says. “I had fun. And I think you’re going to do well on your midterms.” Gojo pauses, taking a moment to swallow his nerves as he lines up his next words in his head. “I… If you want, I could start tutoring you. Outside of office hours.”
He has more he wants to say, more reasons he wants to give, like how things are going to be busier in the second half of the semester. Or how he can tell you don’t like studying around other people and he wants you to feel comfortable. Or, of course, that he likes spending his afternoons with you, even when it’s just to go over powerpoints. But tonight it seems that all Gojo’s pretty words have abandoned him. Time slows to a crawl as he waits for a response. His heart is in his throat, loud enough to drown out the sound of the rain still falling around him.
“I’d like that. Thank you.”
You smile at him. This one is different; it’s not meant to tease or to call him out. It’s sweet, happy even, and Gojo can’t help but mirror it as relief washes through him. He can’t remember the last time he allowed himself such an uncalculated expression.
“Okay,” he says, trying to get himself under control. “Cool. I’ll, uh, see you then, I guess.”
“I’ll text you. Will you be alright walking home?”
In any other circumstance he’d consider that a proposition, and even now his knee jerk reaction is to take it as such. But he checks himself, suppressing his instincts and answering you truthfully instead.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thank you though.”
“Goodnight,” you say, propping your cheek in the palm of your hand and giving him a little wave. “Stay safe.”
Gojo spends the walk back to his apartment sorting through an array of emotions. His pace is slow, eyes downcast as he dodges the worms congregating on the pavement. He feels happy… or at least he’s pretty sure he’s happy. There’s a strange ache in his chest, somewhere between anxiety and joy, and while it isn’t all together pleasant he finds he doesn’t mind it. He’s so deep in his own head that he doesn’t register when Geto greets him, focusing instead on shaking the excess water off his umbrella and propping it up against the wall.
“Satoru. Sa-to-ru!”
Finally Gojo looks up, spotting his friend sprawled out on the couch.
“Hm? Oh, hey Suguru.”
Geto shoots him a look of mild annoyance. “I asked you how dinner went.”
“It went well.”
Kicking off his shoes, Gojo shrugs his bag off his shoulder and leaves it hanging on one of the chairs in the kitchen.
“That’s it? Just ‘it went well’?” Suguru asks, raising an eyebrow.
“There isn’t really anything to add. We had dinner. I helped her study. Then I walked her back to her dorm and came home afterwards.”
Geto clearly isn’t satisfied with this answer but Gojo leaves it at that, excusing himself under the pretense of unfinished homework. Though he can’t explain it, he finds that he doesn’t want to talk about the conversation under the umbrella. It’s an unfamiliar feeling— usually when he gets back from a date, he barges into Suguru’s room and immediately tells him everything that happened, going into way more detail than is appropriate. But this time is different. This is a memory he wants to keep for himself.
After some time sitting at his desk and ignoring his Creative Writing homework, Gojo gets up to take a shower. It’s still too early to go to bed, but his restlessness is keeping him from concentrating. Turning the water on, he strips out of his clothes and steps in before it has time to heat up. He barely feels the cold on his skin.
It’s not that he thinks things have gone too far with you— if anything, they haven’t gone far enough. But something you said keeps nagging at him.
It makes me feel like you actually want to be my friend.
Gojo has always thought of the friendzone as a sandtrap to be avoided at all costs. Your comment is a step towards it, but it stings for an entirely different reason. This whole time have you really been under the impression that he doesn’t want to be your friend? And, more alarmingly, has he been under the same impression? Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t know much about you.
He knows your mannerisms and your discomforts. He knows that you met Suguru about a year ago, meaning you’d likely been transferred to his advisory sometime around then. He knows that you need to be taught things two or three times before they stick in your head. But what about your aspirations? Your likes and dislikes? Hell, even your favorite color? Gojo’s never bothered to ask about any of them, so focused on his goal of winning you over that he’s never taken the time to get to know you.
The shower finally heats up, soothing the goosebumps that have sprung up along his arms. He can’t keep playing this stupid game, trying to get you into bed with him. Normally he pulls shit like this to keep himself busy or to beat whatever challenge he’s set for himself. It’s supposed to be casual fun, certainly nothing serious enough to have him staring at the shower wall while his mind replays every interaction he’s had with you.
Maybe it’s time to cut his losses. Sure it’ll break his flawless winning streak, and Suguru will tease him mercilessly for the next few months, but if he stops now he’ll have a chance at a real friendship with you.
That’ll be enough, right? He’ll be satisfied with that, right?
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TLT Dashboard Simulator- Pt 5
💀 drearybruh Follow
10,000 y/o lyctor gf who exclusively calls me 'lovey': Ugh they're still debating the ethics of using cavaliers as a resource to suck dry, I can't deal with this empire today.
me [heard 'suck dry cavaliers' and got so hard i got nauseous]: I think I hauve devils in me
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🫁 soulosexualll
omg guys im so sorry ive been MIA!!! the alexandrite id been talking about won custody over our baby so i had a bit of a crisis about my future on the fifth house alone and loved only by the spirits. and then of course i visit the third over vacation and get roped into a multi-week bender [have u ever snorted dried marrow? life changing] and then i was lost on the third for likeeeee four days and had to find my way back through hitchhiking and bartering with my own blood.
but i promise ill update my Joy/Patience/Duty threesome fic soon :333
#rpf #munposting #EEEEEEE GET EXCITED GUYS #joy strap time? joy strap time.... #i see ur messages in the askbox and i super appreciate them btw but i cant justify answering all of them #BUT I SEE U AND I LOVE U <33
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🦴 skeletal-system-bracket
SKELETAL SYSTEM BRACKET ROUND 3 GROUP A
We had two ties last round [within a margin of error of .1%!!] , so we decided it would make the most sense to make this a four-way poll. Propaganda:
Occipital Bone: do you want an unprotected cerebellum??? the infernal surface is groovy af, and all the nuchal lines are actually goated. are u seriously going to look me in the eyes and tell me the three-part bone of all time [father son and holy spirit, anyone?] can even be stepped to by some normie basic bone shit???????? cmon..... [via. @skullfuckbonegod]
Fibula: VOTE FIBULA!!!! bone with a best friend <3 Tibia already got out round 1 so its ur legal duty to stand up for its legbestie... also my hounds r named Fibula and Tibia and theyre adorbsies [via. @sodiumradiation]
Thoracic Vertibrae: twelve bones. twelve bones, one combined goal: fuck shit up, take names, keep that back backing. least commonly injured part of the spine for a reason. its built different. this shit protects ur spinal cord, provides attachments to your ribs, supports your chest and abdomen, and literally lets yr body move. objective best bones. [via. @ithinkthereforisam]
Scalpula: Scapula sweep!! Those are your angel wings. Watching your Cavs shoulder blades move under their skin while they carry a big sword is the best part of being a necro. They're also just such a good plane of bone they're perfect for breaking up into little pieces for bone adepts to store in their pockets. Also the attachment point for a bunch of muscles!!and the yummy little joint cavity… [via. @kavkisser]
#polls #tumblr polls #skeletal system #tibia #fibula #vertebrae #scalpula
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📷 devoutofmymind Follow
ARE YOU GUYS SERIOUS WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE EMPEROR HASN'T COMMENTED ON HIS FIRST AND SECOND'S SAINTS DISAPPEARANCES
📷 devoutofmymind Follow
For my Edenite followers this is like if gun disappeared
#ARE THEY DEAD??? #Bro r we upping the fascism factor #STAFF THAT TAG IS A JOKE. I WOULD NEVER DREAM OF INSURGENCY
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🫀 gorewanker Follow
I swear they're like the septum piercing havers of cavaliering 😭😭😭
🦀 xx-0ct0g0ne-xx Follow
Ah. So you're unable to handle the pressures which are expected of the average Eighth House devotee, and as such, fall back upon insecure insults. Get a life + Praying for you + L.
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👤 boobmonger-deactivated-2917220
holy shit tower prince announcement this is crazy. liveblog time
👤 boobmonger-deactivated-2917220
TRANSMASC AWE??????????
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🦷 bitingyoubitingyoubitingyoubitingyoux3 Follow
(14,088 notes)
☠️ is-the-emperor-undying-d34d-yet Follow
NOT YET BUT WE ALWAYS COME BACK
#the locked tomb#tlt#dashboard simulator#nona the ninth#ntn#htn#harrow the ninth#dash simulator#gtn#gideon the ninth#my post#beauposting#ianthe naberius#ianthe tridentarius#cytherea loveday#gideon nav#john gaius
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A new Angus Reid poll shows that the collapse of B.C. United has levelled the playing field between the B.C. NDP and the B.C. Conservatives. Released Friday afternoon, the survey shows that the B.C. Conservatives have 44 per cent support among decided and leaning voters who were polled, while the B.C. NDP has 43 per cent support. The B.C. Greens have support from 10 per cent. In comparison, the governing party held a comfortable lead over its rivals just three months ago. The online survey polled a representative randomized sample of 1,049 British Columbians from Aug. 28 to 30. The margin of error is +/- 3 percentage points, 19 times out of 20.
Continue Reading
Tagging: @newsfromstolenland
#ndp#conservative party#elections#provincial elections#british columbia#cdnpoli#canadian politics#canadian news#canada
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Facts/Math
I've been hearing so much noise lately around ages that I figured I could maybe offer my help.
Here's my reasoning:
Syd's age:
Her resume has the unequivocal answer and it has been in plain sight since 01x01. She worked at Alinea the year before she joined The Beef. Assuming she graduated HS at 17 and knowing that CIA is a 4 to 5-year deal, we need to do basic math here to figure out her age: 17 + 6 = 23/4. Let's give it a 1 year-ish error margin. Even rounding it up, she couldn't have been older than 25 y.o. when she started working for Carmy in S1 (2022).
Carmy's age:
We know for a fact that Carmy's age in S2 was the same as Claire's because they were classmates and when Carmy gave her the wrong number she was in her last year of residency:
So that makes her 29-ish in S2 (2023) -again, if she graduated HS at 17, that is. Or even older, but not much, let's say 30... Thus same for Carmy.
So in S1, when Carmy and Syd met, he was 4 years her senior, approximately. Give or take 1 year. In S3 they both still have the same age, because it's still set in 2023.
Can we all agree that the issue is settled now and move on pls?
PS: IK the original Pilot script said something else and Syd was older than Carmy yatta, yatta, yatta... Actually, it doesn't matter because from the page to the screen the director (in this case Storer himself) can take creative liberties that give them total leisure to change the script, as long as the EP approves and since we're talking about the same person, I don't see how that could have been a problem. What counts is what's canon.
Summing up: We are talking about a 30 to 31-year-old Chef who reached the "most excellent CDC of the most excellent restaurant of the USA" status before the age of 30 and his mirror business partner who is clearly following his same footsteps, and I don't mean this as mentor/mentee, I mean this literally because Syd's gonna be the most excellent CDC, JB award winner, Michelin Star winner (not retainer) under the age of 30, by his side, so in a sense she will 100% smoke him. And he will love it.
It's a love story. And every second counts.
Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋
#sydcarmy#ages#every second counts#the bear#syd adamu#sydney amadu#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto#the bear fandom#gingerpovs#the bear meta#sydcarmy meta
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Comedy of Errors (MK Spring Bingo #3)
Steven Grant x GN!Reader
cross-posted to ao3
tags: theater kid slander (affectionate), amateur references to Shakespeare, steven and reader teach high school, no use of y/n
wc: 1,341
fic summary: The course of true love never did run smooth. And neither does the play you watch unfold.
A/N: as a recovering theater kid, this was a fun one. enjoy!
_____________________
It's poor etiquette to laugh. Right?
How you ended up sitting in a high school theater on a Sunday afternoon, you have no idea. Well, that's not true: you never can say no to your favorite students. When they begged you to come to their closing matinee, you had no choice but to cough up the ticket money (with no faculty discount, to add insult to inconvenience).
So here you are, seated in the darkened auditorium, watching what could only be described as chaos unfold on your school's professional-grade thrust stage.
In the lobby you'd heard whispers of how last night's cast party had gotten a bit too rowdy, rendering a few upperclassmen unable to attend their final performance. It didn’t matter what circle you ran in at their age: you’d learned years ago that a “mysterious illness” following any high school party probably isn’t the flu.
Thankfully there were enough students to fill in the missing principal roles, but with only the morning to prepare, it’s a wonder they've gotten through each scene. Draped in ill-fitting costumes with scripts in hand, the students have tried their best to piece together one last staging of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. All you know about this play is that it’s a comedy, but you don’t think you’re supposed to laugh at every blunder and mishap.
(It’s very hard not to.)
Across the house you see Mr. Grant, one of the younger teachers on campus, whose face mirrors how you feel. He’s probably trying for a look of statuesque stoicism, but all he's managed to pull off is mild bewilderment.
You haven’t spoken to your coworker much– mainly because there’s rarely a moment where he’s without another colleague talking his ear off or hanging on every word of his (admittedly delicious) accent. He’s a newer hire, having come from London to teach a few history courses but was moved to the literature department the moment your principal saw the top of his resume. The modern education system, ladies and gentlemen.
The man is dressed to impress: black turtleneck under a sharp tweed ensemble, his usually wild curls tamed a bit as they grace his forehead, he certainly looks the part of a private school instructor. But there’s no denying the entirely unserious look on his face: he is one blunder away from losing his cool.
You don’t realize how long you’ve been staring until his bright brown eyes connect with yours. In an instant you understand why so many students doodle his name in the margins of their notebooks: his exasperated stare has you instantly weak.
–which is poor timing, given the scene unfolding onstage between you. An unrehearsed kiss goes wrong, and the two of you slap your hands over your mouths to subdue your laughter.
The rest of Act I goes the same way. You try to follow along, but every so often your eyes drift to Mr. Grant white-knuckling his way through the rough performance. When your eyes connect again (and again, and again) you both struggle to contain your laughter. Knowing that tears are likely stinging your colleague's eyes the same as yours makes you feel like less of an ass.
The curtain closes for intermission and you rest your head in your hands. How is this only half over?
“Bit of a rough watch, yeah?”
Your head snaps up– those brilliant brown eyes widen at your expression, now only one row of seats between the two of you.
“Mr. Grant–”
“Steven,” he says quickly, offering his hand. You take it and smile.
“Steven,” you begin again, giving your name in return. “I don’t mean to be rude, but aren’t some of these kids–”
“–in my Shakespearean Studies course? Quite a few, really.” He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “But we’ve focused more on the historical tragedies. Don’t think a textbook can teach comedic timing.”
“Oh, I've laughed plenty.” You fidget with your program and look back to the stage. “At least they’re trying their best, I’m sure part of you is proud.”
Steven’s smile grows as he shakes his head. “I’ll be honest, it’s nice to know they’ve looked at the material for once.” He leans in. “Last week I asked them where the phrase ‘double, double, toil and trouble’ came from, and someone said Harry Potter.”
You laugh out loud for the first time all evening. It feels nice to not hide it. You miss how Steven takes in the sight of you, as well as his loss for words when you calm down.
“I have a confession to make,” you say hoarsely, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “I have no idea what’s supposed to be happening. I’m lost as hell.”
“Maybe I could–” he trips over his words and his feet as he clambers around the seats to sit next to you. “Maybe I could help you out. Bit of an expert, myself. What they pay me for, and all–”
“Sure,” you stop him with a smile. “I’d like that.”
He breathes a sigh of relief and settles in. Pulling out a pair of reading glasses, he opens his program.
“Right. So, A Midsummer Night’s Dream…”
The rest of your intermission is spent receiving a crash-course in William Shakespeare. You’re amazed at how he spouts the most minute details about recurring symbolism, character motivations, and even the historical context of the play up until the lights dim and the show resumes. You squeeze his forearm to silently suggest taking a break, and he chokes down whatever factoid was about to tumble out next.
Maybe it’s because the students have found their footing. Maybe your mini-lecture has filled in the gaps so you can better follow along. Or maybe it’s the sight of Mr. Grant– Steven– sitting beside you, rapt attention on the stage as his readers slide down his nose each time he laughs and leans in to explain the joke, drawing closer and wafting his subtle cologne your way between still-too-loud whispers. Whatever the reason, you’re enjoying the second half of this show much more than the first.
The play draws to a close with a happy ending. One of the fae characters comes downstage to address the audience as the rest of the cast departs.
“If we shadows have offended,
Think but this and all is mended:
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear…”
“Star pupil, that one,” Steven whispers once more. “Deserves every bit of the spotlight.”
You squeeze his arm again, this time not moving your hand or looking his way. You both take in the last words of the performance in dazed silence.
“...Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.”
With that, the fairy bows and the stage fades to black.
The audience erupts into applause as the cast returns onstage. You and Steven cheer and swap last-minute quips about the performance as the standing ovation thunders around you.
You exit the auditorium together and are immediately swarmed by a handful of students– some yours, some his– who eagerly await your feedback. You each congratulate the cast, getting them to sign your programs to commemorate the day.
Finally you’re able to break away and step into the brisk evening air.
“Well that was… something,” you laugh.
Steven grins as he fastens his coat. “‘Least they’ll be tuckered out in first period, yeah? Might get a bit of peace tomorrow morning.” He pulls something out of his pocket and hands it to you. “Sorry, don’t want you to leave that behind. Could be worth something someday.”
You take your folded program back from him. “Oh, I'm sure.”
With an awkward wave, Steven steps back. “Right. Well, see you around.”
“See you, Steven.”
You turn to head toward your car. As you walk, you unfold your program to see a new signature on the back page, followed by a phone number.
Let me know if you need any more Shakespeare translated. I’m fond of the love poems, myself ;)
_____________________
A/N: mk bingo has been a blast, i'm grateful for the chance to put these guys in Situations. that's one for each of em now. we'll see who gets attention next...
also, some inspiration was taken from this post (rip)
as always, ty for reading <3
event tags: @moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight
addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi @nerdieforpedro @queerponcho (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)
#my works#mk spring bingo 2024#moonknightevents#moon knight#steven grant#steven grant x reader#steven grant/reader#steven grant x gn!reader#steven grant/gn!reader
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Free Book of Dragons Typeset
This next typeset is for The Book of Dragons by E. Nesbit, and was suggested to me by @goodnightmoonvale. I hadn't heard of the book before, but I love dragons, and getting to use all my fancy dragon drop caps was an opportunity I couldn't pass up! I tried to make the title page reminiscent of those old YA fantasy novels I'd always borrow at the library, but then I went a little over the top with the chapter title pages. I included all the incredible illustrations of the book, but please note that the pdf is sized for half letter (letter folio), and the scan quality I found of the illustrations was pretty poor, so the illustrations unfortunately had to be shrunk down on the pages for some weird looking margins. I made them as large as I could, and left them on full pages for now, in case I can find better quality images in the future and just drop them in. There were also some formatting issues with the text when I imported it, so if anyone finds any errors, feel free to let me know! Anyway, this typeset is FREE and is available here: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1S2wl_PuxCupofnDpqGuk7VjMHYFMWC6g?usp=sharing
Please consider leaving a like or reblog if these typesets are helpful, and you can follow this blog for future free files! If you use any of my typesets, feel free to tag me! And let me know if you have any suggestions for future public domain works I should do.
#The Book of Dragons by E. Nesbit#The Book of Dragons#typesets#typesetting#book design#bookbinding#book#free to use
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