#so if I learn how to do this for this class from this professor I can apply that knowledge to my thesis

[leona-hawthorne]

hiii, i’m hannah! congrats on 1k! i love your writing you totally deserve it❤️❤️

i’d like to order an herbal tea please ma’am. my fav hogwarts class is potions and i’m a slytherin.

thanks soooo much!!

thank you ml!!! i hope you like this 💌🤍

1k celebration navigation latte art

ミ★ THANKS?… mattheo riddle

The air was thick with the earthy tang of crushed herbs and a faint hint of smoke, remnants of a botched potion someone had abandoned earlier. You leaned over your cauldron, carefully adding a pinch of powdered asphodel, watching the mixture swirl into a soft, luminescent green. Professor Slughorn had excused everyone twenty minutes ago, but you stayed behind to perfect the Draught of Living Death. It wasn’t just about the grade—it was the principle. You had a reputation in Potions to maintain.  

From the corner of your eye, you caught movement by the supply cupboard. Turning slightly, you noticed Mattheo Riddle. He was crouched down, rifling through jars and bottles with a carelessness that made you wince. A faint scowl tugged at your lips as he grabbed a jar, inspected it for half a second, and then tossed it back onto the shelf with a dull clink.

“You know, smashing Slughorn’s ingredients probably won’t get you out of homework,” you quipped without looking up from your cauldron.  

“Homework?” His voice came smooth and low, like the first sip of spiked butterbeer. “Do I look like someone who’s worried about homework?”  

You rolled your eyes, glancing at him. His tie was nowhere to be found, his shirt untucked with the sleeves pushed up to reveal ink-stained forearms. He stood, holding a vial of unicorn horn dust like he’d found some priceless artifact, and smirked when he caught your gaze.  

“Well, you’re clearly worried about something,” you said, gesturing vaguely at the mess he was leaving behind. “Unless this is just your idea of helping.”  

Mattheo wandered over to your table, lazily swirling the vial between his fingers. “Helping isn’t really my thing,” he admitted, leaning against the edge of your workspace. “But I am curious—what’s got you brewing that after hours? A little light poison-making for fun?”  

“It’s for the Draught of Living Death,” you said, turning back to your cauldron. “And if you don’t stop distracting me, I’m going to need it for myself.”  

“Touché.” He chuckled, setting the vial down on the table with an unnecessary flourish. “But, for the record, you’re stirring it wrong.”  

You froze, narrowing your eyes. “Excuse me?”  

“Clockwise, not counterclockwise,” he said, arms folded smugly. “Slughorn’s book is wrong about the order. If you stir it counterclockwise now, the powdered asphodel reacts too quickly with the valerian root. Your potion will split before it settles.”  

You stared at him, torn between annoyance and genuine intrigue. “And you know this… how?”  

He shrugged, a cocky tilt to his head. “Let’s just say I’ve had some practice.”  

“You? Practice?” You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “What’s next? You’re secretly top of the class?”  

“Hardly,” he said, grinning. “I’m just very… hands-on with my learning.”  

There was a flicker of something genuine in his tone, enough to make you hesitate. Against your better judgment, you switched your stirring direction, watching as the potion’s surface rippled and settled into a perfect, glassy stillness.  

“Well, would you look at that,” you muttered, begrudgingly impressed.  

“Don’t look so surprised.” His voice was teasing, but his smile was softer now. “I can be helpful when I want to be.”  

“Guess there’s a first time for everything,” you said, turning to meet his gaze.  

He was closer now, his dark curls falling haphazardly into his eyes as he watched you with a mixture of amusement and something else—something quieter. For a moment, the usual sharp edges of his presence seemed to soften, and you felt an unexpected warmth creeping up your neck.  

“Thanks, Riddle,” you said, fighting the stupid smile finding its way onto your lips.

He winked. “Call me Mattheo.”

[slytherinlives]

Sebastian Sallow Headcanon’s

Sebastian Oliver Sallow (something about his initials being SOS tingles my brain. [also consider, Anne Olivia])

Birthday will change depending on the plot of the story I’m writing but I heavily consider him a September/October baby

Bisexual (pretty self explanatory)

Bookworm. This boy loves to read anything and everything. He doesn’t care what it is and always takes up the opportunity to learn something new.

He is very smart and intelligent when it comes to academics and general knowledge, but is completely oblivious to social cues.

Patronus is a fox. They’re mischievous and sly animals that are known to be tricksters. This also applies to animagus form.

Has ADHD. He struggles to sit still and has specific ticks like bouncing his knee, twirling his quill or wand, pacing back and forth or drumming his fingers. Anything to exude excess energy and keep his hands or legs occupied while he thinks.

Has BPD. He experiences his emotions in excess and will lash out by saying hurtful things or doing hurtful actions without realizing in the moment he’s even doing/saying it and after the fallout he becomes very apologetic and remorseful. (I have an entire thesis on this hc that I can go way more in depth as to why I think this based on canon material shown/given that I will gladly share, but for the sake of this list I won’t.)

Has Asthma. He’s a wheezy boy running through the highlands and swimming in lakes.

Soft tum, round bum. He has defined arm and shoulder muscles from all the dueling and farm work around Feldcroft, but this boy has a little pudgy belly. Also all that running around the highlands and climbing the multiple sets of stairs around the castle exploring, boy has a cake for sure.

HIP DIVOTS HIP DIVOTS HIP DIVOTS

Certified Yapper. He will talk about anything and everything he finds remotely fascinating or annoying. Also certified complainer. He will make sure to let everyone know about how a minor inconvenience made him feel.

Would play quidditch but only because he enjoys a good competition and a way to blow off steam. Would also help him expend all the pent up energy he held in during classes all day. Would be a beater or chaser.

Loyal and protective over those close to him. He would do everything he can to ensure the safety and happiness of his friends and he would always have their back no matter what.

Curse breaker, healer or professor careers are the ones he would excel the most in. Curse breaker because he can put all the knowledge he learned about the dark arts and various curses to use. Healer because he can again, put all that knowledge of curses and maladies to use and help vindicate his inner desire to find a cure, that even if he wasn’t able to do it for Anne, he could at least do it for someone else. Professor because he loves to learn new things but enjoys teaching them even more. He would thrive in teaching students how to cast new spells and dueling techniques. I also imagine it would help him feel a little closer to his parents that he secretly misses more than he’d ever admit out loud.

Messy eater. Not for the lack of manners, but because he gets so excited over food and topics of conversation that he forgets his mouth is full or he's holding something when talking with his hands.

Inherited his freckles and curly hair from his mother. He gets his compassion and bookish tendencies from her too, while his ambition and temper are traits from his father.

Troublemaker. He likes to goof around and pull pranks or break the rules, but only for a bit of fun. He would never do anything to intentionally harm someone else.

Petrified of spiders. I mean can you blame him? Those things are twice his size.

After the deep dive into the dark arts he developed a heavy sense of self loathing and deprecation. Often thinking he’s undeserving of kindness or love. He tries his best to be better and move on but always has that doubt looming over him.

His love language is physical touch. He gets super clingy and whiney when his partner tries to leave and will pout about it until he can hold them again. On the flipside, if he’s stressed, angry or upset, then a small act of holding his hand or giving a hug will instantly lift his mood. (He would prefer to cuddle though so he can pull them close and hold them tightly)

Has a fear of abandonment. After facing so much loss and grief as a child, he constantly fears everyone he gets close to will leave him.

Was a hat stall between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. His mother was a Ravenclaw and he would have loved to feel closer to her by sharing a house, but Anne was sorted into Slytherin before him and he didn’t want her to be alone. He was still satisfied with the decision because his father was a Slytherin and he still got to feel close to one of his parents.

Hates the smell of whiskey and bourbon because it reminds him of Solomon. (His uncle was an angry drunk)

Would have children but the stress and panic of impending fatherhood would stress him out and worry him due to thinking he wouldn’t be a good parent. Circling back to his deep rooted feelings of unworthiness and guilt over past actions and never having a decent father figure to learn from other than fading memories from early childhood. Would probably feel like he’s failing when he can’t fix his child’s problems or calm them down during a tantrum.

Has an intense fear of death that if someone close to him was facing it then he would turn the world upside down to find a way to prevent it. This stems from his fear of abandonment.

Self isolates when he’s upset (counter point, takes his anger out on a training dummy by unleashing his frustration through spell casting)

Loves to rile up others for the sake of finding amusement in their frustration. His favorite classmates to pick on are Leander Prewett and Garreth Weasley. He’s not a bully, just enjoys the banter. “Boys will be boys” behavior.

Speaking of bullies, he hates them. He would go out of his way to step into a situation where he sees another classmate/friend being picked on in a hostile manner.

Would also step in to protect someone from unwanted advances.

Loves to research and spend his free time in the library, but will procrastinate his homework until a few hours before it’s due.

Would thrive off the feeling from showing off his partner to the world, making everyone know they’re together. But would prefer to keep their personal lives more private. Everyone knows they’re together but no one knows what they get up to.

Would go out of his way to plan elaborate dates or trips filled with multiple locations and food.

Is weary of thestrals because they remind him of all the loss he’s faced but finds a strange sort of comfort in them as well

Loves nifflers because they’re just as mischievous as himself

Does the sniff test on a shirt before wearing it

Has various piles of his belongings strewn about that would look messy or disorganized to someone else but he knows precisely where everything is

Is not a morning person. He’s pushing the “five more minutes” luck until inevitably running late.

Is very punctual to things he wants to attend but drags his time to things he’s dreading so he spends as little time as possible there.

Carries a pocket watch that belonged to his father

Has a ring that belonged to his mother that he would only give to the person he’s absolutely sure about marrying.

18+ HC: because he has to spend most of his life in control of every situation, he would relish in the idea of letting someone else take the reins in the bedroom. Although he would struggle with the thought of letting himself be cared for and would grapple with trying to control that too. (Dom/Sub switch depending on his mood)

[msschemmenti]

girl next door 🏠-7

a/n: at this point— i’m just doing shit 😭

Summer turned to fall rather quickly and things had settled pretty nicely for the ladies. The women had only been sleeping together for about a month but they’d all fallen into this new dynamic pretty easily. Everyone was learning new things about themselves and each other and it was making for a very interesting friendship.

Like now, Y/n and JJ were sprawled around her living room working quietly. JJ, reading through case consults, and Y/n working through a few papers. Emily had been tagged into a last-minute interrogation at some prison and jj didn’t particularly fancy spending her evening alone, so she’d made her way over to Y/n’s door as soon as she put the car in park. Having spent her day cleaning and sending out project feedback, Y/n welcomed the blonde in with a smile and instructions to get comfortable while she grabbed them snacks until dinner time.

They worked in relative silence for a bit until JJ seemed finally cracked. Her eyes had strayed from the crime scene photos far too many times for her to provide an actual consult. So when she caught sight of Y/n returning to the living room in one of her signature lounge sets, JJ couldn’t stop herself from pulling the young professor into her lap. Y/n fell easily with a laugh, straddling JJ with raised eyebrows.

“I thought we were working?” Y/n asked teasingly.

“I can’t focus when you’re walking around looking this good.” JJ’s mouth instantly started working the column of Y/n’s neck and by now she was starting to pick up on just how to work the younger woman’s body to get the reaction she wanted. JJ was efficient and had Y/n humming softly and stretching her neck to give her more room to work.

“You know, I’m starting to realize how insatiable your libido is.” Y/n chuckled as she felt JJ’s hands crawl up her shirt to rest in one of her favorite places.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” JJ snickered. “And you’re not exactly helping it. You’ve been walking around in practically nothing for the last hour and a half. I think I deserve some praise for holding out as long as I did.” JJ chided with a nip to the younger woman’s neck.

Before Y/n could even reply, her phone started ringing on the coffee table. She pulled away from JJ, much to the older woman’s dismay, and reached for her phone to see who was calling. JJ, hardly one to be deterred turned her attention to the parts of the younger woman’s body that were still in her reach. Y/n eyed her phone curiously but answered.

“Tina?” Y/n asked as she held the phone to her ear.

“Hi, is now a bad time?” The woman spoke nervously. Y/n’s eyes met JJ’s mischievous eyes and she pulled her hands from under her shirt to rest on her hips. With a pout, the older woman lowered her hands fractionally to cup her behind instead.

Y/n rolled her eyes, but didn’t move them. “No, now's fine. What’s up?”

“Well, I’m in DC— for a show and I wanted to or was hoping to see you. Only if you want, of course. Last time we talked, you said to reach out if I was ever in town. And I’m here. So I’m reaching out.” Tina rambled nervously.

“Well of course I wanna see you. No need to work yourself up honey,” Y/n spoke softly into the phone. The term of endearment piques JJ’s interest. She knew her neighbor rained pet names when she addressed people, she claimed it was part of her Southern charm. But in the months they’d known each other she’d never heard the name Tina before.

“I’m sorry, I just- you know how I get.” Tina sighed over the phone with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“I do. How long are you here for? I’m teaching during most days but we could definitely do dinner.” Y/n asked flipping her hair out of her face a bit, completely missing the way JJ studied her.

“I’m here until Monday, then we’re heading to Chicago. The show will be Friday through Sunday.”

“Okay, it’s Wednesday now— can you squeeze me in tomorrow night? I’ll stay in town after my classes and then we can meet. And if you’re nice, I’ll come see your show.” Y/n teased softly down the line, easily falling into the banter of their past.

JJ was so close enough to the younger woman, that she could practically hear the woman on the other line laugh and agree. She watched as Y/n smiled giddily and confirmed plans for the following day and a familiar yet confusing fire began to burn in her stomach. Familiar, yes. She’d been known to have a bit of a jealous streak. Confusing, also yes. Because she’d only ever really felt that way with Emily. Never for any other partner. And certainly not for any of the women they’d taken to their bed, casually. As the thought passed her mind, she nodded in realization. Oh, this is definitely new.

When Emily and JJ finally stopped fighting their desires and fell into the whole, neighbors-with-benefits sort of arrangement there was bound to be some confusion considering they had never really brought another woman into their relationship consistently. It had always been a one-night-stand-see-you-never sort of deal. Often occurring after a particularly rough case over drinks in a dimly lit bar on the other side of town. They usually never even brought the women to their house. For safety reasons primarily but also because they knew what kind of message that sent to women and they weren’t interested in that sort of thing. Then Y/n moved in and she was just so attractive and so close. They’d convinced themselves that after one time they’d be able to dispel any of those feelings of attraction. That’s how it had worked any other time they took someone to bed. But they were sorely mistaken. Not only had they progressed to inviting Y/n into their personal bed, it was as if their experiences with her were bleeding into their personal intimacy. No matter how many times they washed their sheets they stilled smelled of her release. Any time they rolled into bed to sleep or do a little more than sleep, their minds wandered to their unbelievably attractive neighbor down the street. The neighbor they had writhing between them for hours, gripping their silken sheets, pleading for sweet release. It worked wonders for their already active sex life but it always left them feigning for another night with her. So they stopped counting. And everyone seemed happier that way. The street’s orgasm count was up and who would complain about that?

At this point they’d slept together maybe, 7 times over the last month. All of which had been initiated by Emily or JJ. It almost always happened like this. After defiling Y/n’s couch for the second time they exchanged numbers— everyone anticipating the routine forming. They’d decide before they left work who’d actually reach out. If it was early enough, the younger woman would offer whatever she had for dinner to them and after they’d all eaten together the older women would lead the younger woman to their bedroom. And once the deed was done, Y/n was heading back to her house leaving both women leftovers of their meal. Very casual, very neighborly, very not jealousy-inducing (so far). So when JJ felt that familiar burning in her gut, she knew something else was going on.

“Listen, let me know what your schedules looking like tomorrow and i’ll find us somewhere for dinner. Are you still off Chinese? Figured. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Y/n spoke down the phone before ending the call and turning her attention back to the blonde underneath her. “Sorry bout that.”

JJ nodded and eyed the younger woman curiously, hands still settle on her ass, “Friend in town?”

Y/n nodded, tossing her phone to the other end of the couch, “Yeah, I think I may have mentioned my closest friend in location was in New York when we first met. Well, her shows traveling and we’re gonna get together.”

JJ aimed for casually curious, nothing more than a friend asking about another friend, “That’s nice, were you close before you moved here?”

“Oh yeah, we lived together for a year before she moved up to New York last spring for a role,” Y/n answered easily.

“Roommates? Oh, that’s nice that you kept in touch.” JJ said feeling the relief inching into her body at the simple answer.

“Yeah, roommates. We really leaned into that U-haul lesbian stereotype. Although, i think six months is better than some of couples i’ve known.” Y/n counted absentmindedly.

“Oh! She’s your ex? Like the year and a half one?” JJ asked, feeling the jealousy flair intensely.

“Uh huh, gosh I forget how loose lipped I get when I drink.” Y/n smiled, kissing JJ’s lips chastely and rising from her lap. “I’m going to start dinner, are y’all eating with me tonight?”

JJ answered affirmatively and watched as the younger woman started working around her kitchen to prepare for dinner. She’d need to swallow whatever she was feeling—cause it’s casual.

-

“God, DC looks good on you.” Tina smiled fondly from across the dinner table. Y/n had picked a restaurant within walking distance to where Tina was staying and she was definitely taking advantage of that fact as she nursed her fourth drink.

“Oh stop that! I look exactly the same as I did when I dropped you at the airport last May. If we’re talking who looks what— the stage is agreeing with my baby. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this light and free.”

“That might be the liquor talking.” Tina grinned.

“Uh huh, you always did have a low tolerance. My lil baby.” Y/n teased, reaching across the table to pinch at the older woman’s cheek affectionately. “Tell me, who’re you bedding now? Some young ingenue in the chorus line?”

“Ha! No no. I’m not currently involved with anyone. Haven’t had much time with the show traveling— and you know the new york dating scene is not my speed.”

“Awe come on, the girls not seeing how lovable your little shy, nervous thing is? We both know how well that worked on me.”

“Yeah— I fear they’re not like you.” Tina shrugged, downing the rest of her drink. She waved the waitress down for another and studied her ex closely. “Now you my dear, are definitely getting laid. Tell me about that.”

Y/n blushed under her gaze and rolled her eyes, “Oh you know, nothing serious. My married neighbors have just been screwin’ my brains out for the last month.”

“Oh ho ho— now that’s one way to do it. Glad one of us is getting laid.” Tina cheers, clinking their glasses together. “What does ‘nothing serious’ mean though?”

“It’s casual. They’ve got pretty high pressure jobs and you know how healing an orgasm can be. My dating experience here has been pretty rough and you know what they say— kill two birds with one stone and such.”

“well good for you, babe. Glad to see you’re making DC home.”

It wasn’t long after that the women stumbled out of the restaurant giggling sweetly. “Oh, you’re drunker than Cooter Brown. Come on I’ll walk back to your hotel, make sure you can actually go on this weekend.”

“Oh no, then who will walk you back? I don’t want you out here alone, how can I protect you?” Tina slurred, leaning into Y/n’s arm.

“Sweetness, you couldn’t protect a fly right now. I’ll be fine.”

“No— just stay the night. I’ve got two beds and you’ve had almost as much as me.”

“Alright, alright. Sleepover it is. Start movin’ though— my feet are killing me.”

-

“What is your deal? You’ve been glued to that window or your phone all evening.” Emily asked curiously looking over JJ’s shoulder for a sign of what she was watching.

“Nothing…” JJ shrugged tearing her gaze from her neighbor’s empty driveway.

“Yeah right, nothing my ass. Try that again.” Emily scoffed, lifting JJ’s feet onto her lap.

“It really is nothing, i was just wondering if Y/n was back for the night.”

“She’s not home yet? That’s weird, most nights she’s in bed by 9 at the latest. Didn’t she say she was having dinner with her friend tonight?” Emily mused curiously watching JJ’s features closely. JJ hummed noncommittally turning distractedly as a pair of headlights bathed the dark street. Emily eyebrows lowered together in confusion, “Jen, come on. What do you know— should we be concerned about this friend of hers?”

At the genuine concern in Emily’s voice JJ sighed and slumped against the couch sheepishly. “No, no. I’m being crazy and I have no clue why. Her ex is in town and I hadn’t anticipated her being gone all night.”

“Oh.” Emily replied (teetering between nonchalance and intrigued). “Her ex as in the one she dated for a year and a half? That’s nice of her to visit.”

“Yeah, super nice.”

“You know if i didn’t know any better— I’d say this attitude of yours is because you’re jealous…” Emily prodded, poking at the sole of JJ foot.

“What? No. I was just thinking— we never really talked about the logistics of our arrangement. And safety wise I think it might be a good idea to figure out.”

Emily peeked through the curtain herself, “Right, right. You think she’s sleeping with her?” Emily asked suddenly struggling to maintain her nonchalance.

“Well they sounded pretty chummy when she called. And she’s not home yet. And it’s not like we’re exclusive or anything. She’s a free agent.”

“That she is. Well I’m sure she’s having a good time.” Emily threw over her shoulder flippantly, eyes still trained on the street. “But you’re right, maybe we should think safety logistics. And such.”

[raqualswonderfunblog]

Rebecca Helm PhD., as shared by Open Ocean Explorationa biologist and an assistant professor at the University of North Carolina, Asheville US wrote:

Friendly neighborhood biologist here. I see a lot of people are talking about biological sexes and gender right now. Lots of folks make biological sex sex seem really simple. Well, since it’s so simple, let’s find the biological roots, shall we? Let’s talk about sex...[a thread]

If you know a bit about biology you will probably say that biological sex is caused by chromosomes, XX and you’re female, XY and you’re male. This is “chromosomal sex” but is it “biological sex”? Well...

Turns out there is only ONE GENE on the Y chromosome that really matters to sex. It’s called the SRY gene. During human embryonic development the SRY protein turns on male-associated genes. Having an SRY gene makes you “genetically male”. But is this “biological sex”?

Sometimes that SRY gene pops off the Y chromosome and over to an X chromosome. Surprise! So now you’ve got an X with an SRY and a Y without an SRY. What does this mean?

A Y with no SRY means physically you’re female, chromosomally you’re male (XY) and genetically you’re female (no SRY). An X with an SRY means you’re physically male, chromsomally female (XX) and genetically male (SRY). But biological sex is simple! There must be another answer...

Sex-related genes ultimately turn on hormones in specifics areas on the body, and reception of those hormones by cells throughout the body. Is this the root of “biological sex”??

“Hormonal male” means you produce ‘normal’ levels of male-associated hormones. Except some percentage of females will have higher levels of ‘male’ hormones than some percentage of males. Ditto ditto ‘female’ hormones. And...

...if you’re developing, your body may not produce enough hormones for your genetic sex. Leading you to be genetically male or female, chromosomally male or female, hormonally non-binary, and physically non-binary. Well, except cells have something to say about this...

Maybe cells are the answer to “biological sex”?? Right?? Cells have receptors that “hear” the signal from sex hormones. But sometimes those receptors don’t work. Like a mobile phone that’s on “do not disturb’. Call and cell, they will not answer.

What does this all mean?

It means you may be genetically male or female, chromosomally male or female, hormonally male/female/non-binary, with cells that may or may not hear the male/female/non-binary call, and all this leading to a body that can be male/non-binary/female.

Try out some combinations for yourself. Notice how confusing it gets? Can you point to what the absolute cause of biological sex is? Is it fair to judge people by it?

Of course you could try appealing to the numbers. “Most people are either male or female” you say. Except that as a biologist professor I will tell you...

The reason I don’t have my students look at their own chromosome in class is because people could learn that their chromosomal sex doesn’t match their physical sex, and learning that in the middle of a 10-point assignment is JUST NOT THE TIME.

Biological sex is complicated. Before you discriminate against someone on the basis of “biological sex” & identity, ask yourself: have you seen YOUR chromosomes? Do you know the genes of the people you love? The hormones of the people you work with? The state of their cells?

Since the answer will obviously be no, please be kind, respect people’s right to tell you who they are, and remember that you don’t have all the answers. Again: biology is complicated. Kindness and respect don’t have to be.

Note: Biological classifications exist. XX, XY, XXY XXYY and all manner of variation which is why sex isn't classified as binary. You can't have a binary classification system with more than two configurations even if two of those configurations are more common than others.

Biology is a shitshow. Be kind to people.

[aro-culture-is]

aro culture is getting really annoyed with the relationships unit in your sociology class because the whole thing is just 100% amatonormativity.

:\

if think your teacher, professor, and/or TAs might be interested in discussing the concept, I have some idea of bringing up the topic?

I'd personally say something like, "Hi, During our section in sociology around relationships, I couldn't help but think it would be interesting to discuss how a sociological theory called "amatonormativity" might relate to these lessons. I gathered a few sources from the professor who coined it, a thesis written on it, and a law review written about the connection between it and laws in the USA. There's some connections between its use in feminist thought and in queer theories, and I'd love to know your thoughts about it. I personally was thinking of when [specific statement] was said, and how I would apply this theory. I hope it's as interesting to you as it is to me."

Coiner's current webpage: https://elizabethbrake.com/amatonormativity/

Thesis: https://vc.bridgew.edu/honors_proj/330/ (click download in upper right hand corner for the PDF, depending on the individual it may be worth downloading and sending that rather than a link)

Law Review: https://uclawreview.org/2022/06/09/amatonormativity-in-the-law-an-introduction/

[gertritude-art]

sometimes when you're not a great programmer and everyone looks at you and goes "i don't know... that's scary" when you want to do something in ren'py you have to get creative and by creative i mean code that would make an actual programmer get mad at you

[roaringroa]

they should make a life where you don't have appointments, work, school and scheduled events every single day for months on end

[girlscience]

the answer to being stressed and depressed is asking for help. the answer to being stressed and depressed is asking for help. the answer to being stressed and depressed is asking for help. the answer to being stressed and depressed is asking for help. the answer to being stressed and depressed is asking for help.

[immamapletreekid]

work anxiety starting before work itself hahahahaahahahahahahhhaha

[strohller27]

.

[frogzedat-thelizardcouncil]

I'm going to scream. Symbolism is in all art. Most all art is in some way a metaphor or trying to tell you something and they communicate that through symbolism among other tools used to express meaning.

That stupid "sometimes the curtains are just blue" thing has ruined people. Everything you see in a work is there for a reason! Every stroke of the pencil, every individual word, and the order they are in was a decision a real human made. They are all important. They all can be used to determine what a work is trying to tell you.

AI doesn't do that. The robot makes the whole image or story haphazardly with no intent other than to have an output for a prompt. It is valueless salad from an algorithm. Artificial Intelligence is a misnomer for whatever ChatGPT and Dall-e are.

AI people: we're just as much artists as you are, you gotta be so observant and go through so many correcting phases for the picture to look good uwu also AI people:

[taahko]

every so often im struck by the memory of one of my college professors getting very angry with our class (art history of pompeii 250) because when she excitedly detailed the ingenious roman invention of heated floors in bathhouses via hearths in small crawlspaces, we asked who was tending the fires. she said "oh, slaves i suppose. but that isnt the point". and we said that it actually very much was the point. she had just told us that in roman society there were dozens of people, maybe hundreds, who spent every day of their enslaved lives crawling in cramped, hot, smoky tunnels to light fires to warm pools of water (which they were not allowed to swim in). how could that not be the point?

she wanted us to focus on the art, on the innovation of heated plumbing, on the tiles and decorations of the bathhouses, and all we wanted to do was learn more about the people under the floors. and she didn't know anything more about that. in fact, she said she thought we were focusing too much on superfluous details.

it feels almost hokey to put too fine a point on the idea im getting at here but i will anyway: There are a lot of people who are still under the floors. all these beautiful, convenient, brilliant innovations of modern society (think fast fashion, chatgpt, uber, doordash) are still powered by people working in inhumane, untenable conditions.

the people who run these systems want you to focus on the good - who doesnt love warm water? - but if anything is going to improve or change in our lifetimes, you need to examine these things with an attentive, critical, and empathetic eye. and for fucks sake stop ordering from amazon

[odysseys-blood]

u ever start piecing together why everything is wrong with you

[communistcephalopod]

🌊 lugias-sopping-anus

Can't stand how people will learn that humans are related to Pokemon and somehow come to the conclusion that different people are different types. That's not how this works. That's not how any of this works.

🍑 pechaberrysoda

there are literally so many fighting type people what are you even talking about lmao

🌊 lugias-sopping-anus

Your genetic make up doesn't just magically change type because you took a karate class. Do you also think your Charizard is a Grass type now because it learnt Solar Beam?

✨ ace-trainer-luna

But aren't Psychic type people a thing? Some humans have telekinetic powers, I'm pretty sure there are a few gym leaders who have them. There are even rare cases of children born with psychic abilities.

🌸 cynthiasfuturewife

that's still just learning moves

🌌 mistyterrain

As an actual Psychic type, this post is really disheartening to see. The fact that people who still refuse to acknowledge the existence of psychics are so common is just shocking. We exist!

☣ deathtounova

no one's refusing to acknowledge the existence of shit, you just don't know how types work

🌌 mistyterrain

The sheer ignorance on display here, it's obvious you're just mad you're a normal type lol.

☣ deathtounova

how bout i karate chop your ass and we'll see how "not very effective" it is

🌌 mistyterrain

Typical physical attacker brutishness, resorting to violence as usual

🦧 return-to-mankey

didn't you claim you manifested the kyogre disaster in hoenn?

⚡ electrictypesfuckyeah

WHAT

🥀 cradilyzone

Actual professor here! Genetically, all humans are Normal types, though some of our relatively recent ancestors were Psychic. Part of what let us succeed as a species was reutilizing the brain power originally used for psionics to language and tool use. We do still have some vestigial psychic power that can be trained, though it's quite weak compared to most Pokémon. As for those born with psychic powers, this is considered nowadays to be like an egg move, passed down from parent to child. And no, obviously learning Fighting moves doesn't make you a Fighting type, there is no way for a human to change their type.

🌔 hexmaniac

my grandma became a ghost type

🔶️ bigjiggly

I-

🔞 mega-miltank

What about swimmers though, they're water type, right?

📀 HM-69

did you even read the post

🪴 n-did-nothing_wrong

Are we all just ignoring OP's url?

🌊 lugias-sopping-anus

Team Plasma apologist blog, opinion discarded.

🛗 mostlymukposts

This post single handedly evolved my Porygon-2

[fushitoru]

trouble a gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ bully!satoru gojo x reader

summary ⸺ an unexpected tutoring session with your bully satoru gojo leads to somewhere...unexpected

warnings ⸺ SMUT (MDNI), fluff, slight angst, college au, porn with really mid plot, bullying, humiliation, PANTY INSPECTION, p i v sex, unprotected sex, aftercare, creampie, he whimpers a lot but also degrades you a lot, gojo satoru king of dirty talk it might not make sense lolz, this is not edited in the slightest, didn't even do it a once over, implied that reader is a virgin but not really art by the goat 3-aem

a/n sorry for being so ia. will be answering asks after the ao3 author ahh events that went on this past week T-T as a result this is kind of mid, might delete later, based on this req

general masterlist

This could not be happening to you. NO, no, no. You must be dreaming, right?

Because Satoru Gojo was sitting right across from you in your math professor’s office, looking akin to a kicked puppy, ears drooping as your professor continued ranting about his late assignments, his efforts to cover his grades up, lost potential, laziness, how he should learn from you—but you were only dreading the aftermath of this conversation, when you were left alone with Gojo. 

Because he was your college bully.

It didn’t get as violent as in those Asian dramas, but you were often left humiliated from the nuisance he was. For example, take the instance when you both first met. 

Head deep in the textbooks you just bought, you were scanning the formulas in an effort to get ahead; after all, for someone like you—dependent on a scholarship to attend university—slacking off was not an option. Only for the nepo trust fund babies—which you were not. There, in the prestigious university you had fought tooth and nail to get into, you were at peace. 

But it all went out the window as someone moved to tap you on your shoulder, making you turn your head towards possibly the most handsomest boy you’ve ever seen but undeniably a spoiled kid. Because what came out of his words were definitely grounds for sexual harassment.

“Are Asian people your type? Because I’m China get in your japanties.”

If crickets could make their way into the study room you were sitting in, their chirps would be LOUD. You blinked, heat creeping up your face as he leaned closer to your face, eyes flirtingly honing in on yours and your lips. Abruptly—-flustered—you stood up, gathering your belongings and apologizing profusely. “I”m so—sorry—I don’t—-you might be talking to the wrong per—” because there was no way in hell he was addressing you. From what you could see, he looked like a rich kid, the kind with a lot of money—something that could land you in trouble. You booked it the hell out of there, ignoring the confused look on his face and missing the disappointment flicker across it as he saw your retreating figure leave his sight.

And thus, your love story with Satoru Gojo—who you soon found out was the most popular boy on campus—started. 

Small encounters with Gojo kept plaguing your first semester. They would be chance encounters, where Gojo would catch your eye in the middle of a crowd and make his way towards you, a snarky grin creeping up his face as he cornered you into a hallway with less traffic. Sometimes even in a closet.

It wouldn’t be anything grave, to say. All he would ask is how your day was, all sweet nothings and cute smiles made to woo you. And they definitely did—but you couldn’t let it show, couldn’t let him woo you.

“What’s your next class, baby?” The both of you were in a janitor’s closet, him having cornered you in the room and locked  the door. You kept biting your lip nervously, the edge of it red and swollen as you peered at him somewhat nervously.

“Uh—I don’t know,” you whispered, darting your eyes somewhere on the floor, so he wouldn’t see the avoidant look on your face.

Let’s get the record straight: you weren’t scared of Gojo. Sure, at 6’ 3’’ with piercing, glow-in-the-dark sapphire eyes, he made you nervous, but you knew you could pine for him at best. Because god knows what would happen if you ever cross him or his dozens of fan girls, some with considerably more power than you on campus. Putting a target on your back while you were trying to graduate wasn’t one of your goals, but trying to pass your math classes with honors was.

And you hated the fact Gojo could read you like a book. Because in the cramped, dark space, his eyes were almost..soft as he put his forearm across the wall on top of your head, effectively caging you in as he steps toward you. You hug your big and heavy books closer to your chest, the squish of your breasts over your top not lost to Gojo who eyes them with lidded eyes. Then, they make their way to meet yours, and it’s like he can see the pining in your eyes. The fact that he’s a carrot dangled in front of your head, something you want but if you ran, you would never have him. A perpetual race to make him yours.

He smiles, gives a soft chuckle. “You don’t know?” he teases you and your blatant lie. “C’mon, let me walk you there.”

But you blurt out an immediate “No!” and then regret it, because hurt flashes across his face. “I mean–” you falter, “please don’t. You’ll be seen publicly with me.”

A quizzical look, one that is so innocent that it makes you want to cry, because how could Gojo ever understand your problems? “What’s the problem?” And then he pouts. “You embarrassed of me?”

“No–no—” you shake your head, squirming slightly from where you were both standing. “It won’t be good for you, for me.” Then, you swallowed, waiting and screening for his reaction.

Praying to whatever gods that were listening to you that he would understand, it seemed that they were answered because an emotion you couldn’t place etched its way on his face until he nodded. A resolute one, yet something that made you a bit…uneasy was in his eyes. Because it meant nothing but trouble.

Then on went your days. Seven days, in fact, because it only took a week for you to be walking across the hallway, daydreaming about a boy without a face cuddling you in the winter, eating cookies in Christmas. You hated being single and hated the fact you were confined to your academic responsibilities; quickly, your professors caught onto your potential, assigning you to tutor your peers during recitations. You preened at the attention and validation but felt lonely because it occupied all your time to catch up on others’ expectations. In your rumination of your upcoming responsibilities, you didn’t notice the hand shoot out and firmly grab your arm until you were in a janitor’s closet. Yet again.

Shocked, you resisted the unknown person who had led you in here, instincts flaring up until said person turned on the light. 

Gojo.

“Gojo, what are you—” You didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence, as Gojo had covered your mouth with his arm, one to avoid causing too much commotion before you were discovered there.

“You said no one could see us, right?” A mischievous—yet yearning—look flashed across his face and it was then you realized his play. “So this is okay?”

No, this stubborn man wasn’t going to let you go—he was going to torment you. In secret.

The only response you could conjure your brain was a whimper because a tentative hand was creeping its way up your thigh, softy caressing the insides of it. All you could feel was pleasure and how it was so right despite it being so wrong that Satoru Gojo, the campus sweetheart, had cornered you into the janitor’s closet to give you the most dizzying touches, some you couldn’t deny.

So when he moved his other hand that was at your mouth to grab at your pink skirt, he lifted the hem with both his hands and then paused. Looked at you with darkened eyes. “Let me do this.”

You could only close your eyes in your flustered state, pinching them shut as you gave him a slight nod. It only took him a millisecond to move, using both of his hands to uncover what was between your thighs, eyes focused and widening as he inspected your panties.

“Pink with hearts, huh?” You could hear the chuckle in his voice, the cockiness basically oozing out and you could only continue to heat up deeper. “I like it, baby.” Jumping as you felt his hands roam and trace the edges of your panties, he hooked his finger in the crotch, your thighs tightening slightly as his index just oh so grazed your bare folds as he pulled and pulled, until he let go of the tension and it snapped back in its place. “Look at me.”

As per his instruction, you opened your eyes, only to be taken aback by the intensity in his. Then, his lips moved. “Be my girlfriend.”

The moment broke as clarity hit you. This shouldn’t have happened. “I’m sorry, Gojo, but—”

“Don’t call me that,” he groaned, stepping back and raking an arm through his hair. “What’s even your problem? Did I do something wrong?”

Incredulous, you utter out a “Something wro—you don’t think you did something wrong?”

He looked at you for a bit, made to say something, but you cut him off. “You know what Gojo? Get this through your head. We can’t do this. I don’t know how many girls fall for this, but I can’t. I’m sorry.” With that, you made to move, but he quickly reached out, pleading for you to stay. You wrenched his hand out of your grip and said, in the most serious voice you could muster, “Don’t ever talk to me again.” And you walked out, pretending you weren’t scared of what would happen after you retaliated against the Satoru Gojo.

Surprising, all went well for the rest of the semester. You did get some whispers and stares because of the stray rumor or two passing around about you and the mysterious instances when the campus king stared at your figure for a flicker too long. But it wasn’t nothing but passing because you didn’t share any classes with Gojo, and he respected your wishes. You didn’t miss the bitterness in his stare when you passed by his friend group in the hallway, speeding up to shake off the weight of his eyes on you.

So, you were at peace. Until second semester’s Calc III.

You soon realize that with gradients and vectors comes an additional burden, one specifically sporting white hair. Because as you’re pulled into your math professor’s office and see him, you oh so desperately want to book it. 

“And this, Satoru,” your professor pauses and looks at him sternly while gesturing towards you, “is your ticket out of failing. Miss Y/N here,” he gives you a comforting smile, one that does nothing to ease the stiffness flooding your body at the thought of Gojo right next to you, “has the highest grade in the class. She’s a seasoned teaching assistant too, helping a lot of people in her classes next year.” You silently curse, your smile growing more strained as you realize Gojo’s looking at you. “I trust that you’ll be in good care.”

Once the professor finally dismissed you both, you braced yourself, shoving your notebook back into your bag with far more force than necessary. The prospect of *actually* tutoring Satoru Gojo—the one person who seemed hell-bent on making college a gauntlet for you—was absurd.

You didn't look up as you pushed past him, but Gojo kept pace, following you out of the office and down the hall with that easy, unbothered stride of his. "So," he drawled, “how's this tutoring thing going to work? Are you coming to my place, or am I coming to yours?”

You stopped, turning to face him. "My place," you said firmly. The thought of seeing him lounging in some flashy, high-end apartment was insufferable. Besides, at least in your dorm, you could set some ground rules.

He blinked, looking surprised. "Your place? Bold move, Miss Perfect," he teased, that trademark smirk flickering onto his face. “Didn’t think you’d be so eager to have me over.”

"Trust me, Gojo, I'm only doing this because I have to. And there will be rules," you said, crossing your arms. "No messing around, no games—just math."

“*Just math,*" he repeated, his tone playful as his eyes glinted with mischief. “Got it.”

You swallowed, hoping he meant it. "Fine," you said briskly. "I’ll see you tomorrow at six. Don’t be late."

“Oh, wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, and with a little salute, he strolled off, leaving you with a sense of impending doom.

The knock came precisely at six.

You opened the door, and there stood Satoru Gojo, surprisingly punctual, hands shoved into his pockets and a playful grin on his face. You gestured to the small study area you’d set up by your desk, filled with neatly organized notes and textbooks.

“Take a seat,” you said shortly. “We’ll start with the basics.”

He slid into the chair, his gaze flitting from the textbooks to you, an amused glint in his eye. “You weren’t kidding about tutoring. You’re all set up like a professional.”

You ignored the remark and opened the textbook to the chapter on derivatives. “Alright. Let’s go through this. If you understand derivatives, the rest of Calc III will start making sense.”

For a while, he seemed to actually pay attention. He followed along, asking a few questions, which you answered as patiently as possible. But as the explanations went on, his attention started to drift. After one too many halfhearted nods, you frowned, putting your pencil down.

“You’re not even trying, are you?”

He leaned back in his chair, that smirk resurfacing. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to spend time with you.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting off the blush creeping up your cheeks. “You needed my help. I didn’t force you to come here. If you don’t want to do this, then—”

He held up a hand, the teasing gone from his face. “Alright, alright. I’ll focus.” He paused, then added, “In fact, to show you I mean it, I’ll do you a favor. Whatever you want. My way of saying thanks.”

You eyed him warily. “A favor?”

“Anything,” he said, leaning in with a grin that spelled trouble. “What’ll it be? An escort to class? Carrying your books around? Name it.”

 “I’ll let you know when I think of something.” You’re dismissive, knowing he’s not that serious about this, playful about this like he is everything else. 

He chuckled, nodding. “Looking forward to it.”

And with that, he finally settled into his chair, this time with genuine focus, leaving you both in the kind of quiet that held a new, unspoken promise—a favor, an IOU hanging in the air between you.

You don’t know how you ended up under Gojo on your bed. 

Satoru sat close—closer than you’d expected. His knee brushed yours as he leaned forward to study your notes, and every few minutes, his arm would brush against your hand as he reached for the pencil you were using to write equations. Each little touch sent a jolt through you, and judging by the lingering glances he kept giving you, he didn’t mind it either.

“Okay, so the derivative here is...?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady as you pointed at the next problem.

Satoru leaned even closer, squinting at your notebook. “I think I get it,” he murmured, his face inches from yours, his breath warm as it brushed your cheek. But instead of looking at the math, his eyes flicked to yours, lingering just a second too long.

Your heart hammered as you forced yourself to focus. “Right. So you should get… uh… that answer,” you managed, feeling his gaze still trained on you.

“Uh-huh,” he replied, not breaking eye contact. His hand shifted on the table, the back of his fingers grazing yours.

You didn’t move. Neither did he. Your fingers stayed where they were, brushing against each other, the soft, deliberate touch making the silence between you feel louder. Finally, you broke the tension by clearing your throat, quickly pulling your hand away to grab a different textbook.

“So—um, yeah, you’re almost there,” you stammered. “But you missed a step here.” You pointed to another section, hoping he wouldn’t notice the slight shake in your voice.

He noticed, of course. You could see his smirk in the corner of your eye.

“Is that all I missed?” he asked, leaning so close that his shoulder pressed against yours. His voice was lower now, more intimate.

You nodded, trying to focus on the page but finding it impossible with him so close. “Yeah. Just… that,” you said softly.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice dropping even more as he shifted his hand, his knuckles brushing against your knee now. It wasn’t intentional—at least, you thought it wasn’t—but neither of you moved. You felt frozen, caught in a quiet, charged moment, where all you could hear was your own heartbeat.

You swallowed, forcing your gaze back to the problem on the page. “Maybe, um… maybe we should take a break?” you suggested, needing a second to breathe.

He tilted his head, an amused, knowing, intense glint in his eye. “A break sounds nice.” 

Your breath caught as he looked at you like that, his hand still warm where it lingered just a little too close. And in that brief moment, you wondered just what kind of favor you’d end up asking of him—or what he might ask of you in return.

And it seemed like he knew what you were thinking. “Hey,” he said oh so breathlessly, in the way that made you want to throw yourself at him yet simultaneously bludgeon his head in, “wanna fuck?”

You reeled back, incredulous, but he quickly grabbed your head with both his hands, gently drawing you in. “What?”  

“I mean,” and he giggled, “what better use of a favor for than me to rid you of your virginity?”

You gasp, struggling in his hold to no avail. “Why would you assume I’m a virgin? I have plenty of experience, thank you very much—”

All the man does is snigger, despite your glare at him and looks at you, peering at you through his eyelashes with an oh-so-adoring smile. “It was clear how much you soaked through your panties that last time you’re a virgin, baby.” And you can’t help but whimper, reduced to a melting mess because of his sweet words. 

He laughs meanly. “If you’re not a virgin, you better not be soaked right now, baby. I’m kind of excited to see what panties you’re wearing this time” He moves his hand between your thighs, and you pliantly spread your legs for him, clenching as his hands rove over your panties in between your skirt. And he’s right, because it’s almost like you’ve wet your panties with the way your slick was flooding out of you because of your proximity with Satoru. “Look at that,” he coos and he pulls his hand away, much to your dismay, to examine his fingers. They glisten vulgarly in the fairy lights in your dorm, and Satoru turns his head to look at you. “So you gonna let me fuck you?”

And that, dear reader, is how you find yourself face down in your plushies on your dorm room bed, clutching them for dear life as Satoru spews dirty talk as if he was born doing it. “Satoru, faster!” you sob, having gone past the initial discomfort of having something in your pussy. 

“Satoru, faster,” he mocks you, grabbing your hips and drilling into your heat, groaning at how you’re just so tight. The tears flowing down your face make you even more beautiful as you succumb to your pleasure, one that no one other than Satoru has ever made you feel. “Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to fuck you?” You don’t answer past your moaning, and that annoys the fuck out of Gojo. He slaps your ass consecutively and can’t help but be more aroused looking at the red handprints he leaves. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” you moaned, anything to stop his assault on your ass, “I wanted this is sooo bad.” At that—rather than being satiated—Satoru sped up, hitting your spot with the accuracy of a sharpshooter.

“Yea, baby?” He laughs, meanly, leaning down to grab you by the chin, forcing you to look at him. His fingers squished your cheeks, thereby pursuing your lips as he tried not to cum from the sight of your eyes rolling back with each stroke into you. From the way you were clenching and pulsing more regularly around him, he could tell you were close. “Gonna cum?”

You whined, nodding while sobbing into his hands, trying to focus on the feeling of orgasming. It was so close, you could feel it coiling in your belly—

Just for him to rip out of your cavern, leaving you in shambles due to the emptiness you were feeling. “What—”

He tutted, his hand now slowly stroking his cock while he was sitting on his knees, looking down at you. “I’m only letting you come if you agree to be my girlfriend.”

“Gojo, what—”

“It’s Satoru,” his eyes flared, looking at you with an intensity you hadn’t noticed before. “And say it. Say you’ll be mine.”

For a moment, you searched his eyes for any signs. Signs of insincerity, of humor. But all you could find was desperation and yearning. Ever since you kept having your chance encounters with Gojo, you couldn’t help but deny the fluttering in your heart; the way his eyes unconsciously looked for you, a mere stranger he had taken interest in, in every crowd made you feel seen in a world where you were otherwise invisible.

And you couldn’t help but want to continue being in that world, in his world.

“Fine,” you whispered. “I’ll be your girlfr—”

Before you could finish, he smashed his lips into yours, joining them in a messy, wet embrace. His tongue explored your mouth in a way that made you leak even more while he aggressively laid back down on the mattress, effortlessly lifting you onto his crotch and onto his dick. As he thrusted into you, desperately, he couldn’t help but continue blabbing sweet nothings.

“I’ll treat you so well—haah—take you out on dates,” he heaved, eyes watering as he thrusted slowly into you in long, deep strokes. His eyes never left you as he made love to you, his face going up to nuzzle in between your breasts, peering at you through lidded eyes lovingly. “Fuck you well every night, show you off to the world.”

You could only sob Satoru as you looked at his face through your tears, him doing all the talking for you. “Every day,” he groaned, his cock pulsing and twitching in your walls, “I’ll love you like you’re my wife and fuck you like you’re my slut. So—” and he took a sharp intake of breath, one that you could interpret as him getting close with the way his hips were continually getting more and more sloppy, “so proud of you, baby. Gonna take care of you.” Then, he meets his eyes with yours as he starts to speed up, hand moving to gently rub at your clit in circles, with such prowess that you know you’re not going to last long. “Pull you—haah—pull you aside and see what panties you wore for me that day. Coming inside—coming inside and making you walk around with my cum leakin’ out of your panties.”

And then he whimpers as he loses control. “Gonna—” he utters in between short breaths, “gonna come baby. Come with me.”

“I will, Satoru,” you whine. “Please, I wanna—I wanna kiss!” That’s when Satoru can’t hold himself back anymore, his cum shooting in ropes inside of you at the innocent gesture you wanted him to do while he was doing such filthy things to you. You come alongside with him, everything so overwhelming as you ride out your orgasm on top of him. 

As you’re both settling down from your orgasm, he pulls you off—the both of you wincing at the sudden emptiness—as he lays you down next to him. Without a word, he nuzzles in between your breasts, giving a content sigh as he literally melts like a cat, relaxed in your embrace. You can’t help but giggle at his antics, and he takes his face out of your cleavage to give you a boyish grin. “What’re you laughing at?” “Nothing,” you shake your head. “Just the fact I’m chained to you now.”

“Hey!” he pouts, moving his arms so he’s embracing you tightly, effectively trapping you in. “Say that again and I’m going to sleep on top of you and never leave.”

“Can’t believe I’m chained to y—”

Satoru plops on top of you, making a show of tickling your ribs and stomach as you gasp and laugh in surprise. “Satoru!” He doesn’t relent, until you feel a familiar liquid ooze and leak out of your pussy.

This time, your shriek of Satoru’s name doesn’t go unnoticed. At the murderous look on your face–as well as the sheer messiness in between your thighs—he gets up. Smiles sweetly. “Should just leave you like this, leaking my cum. It’s only fair for how you ignored me!”

At that, he gets a pillow to his face, reminiscent of a kicked puppy as he trudges to your bathroom to clean you up. 

general masterlist

comment and reblog your thots! <3

[snowsinterlude]

need someone older.

(teacher!coriolanus × student!reader.)

summary: a teacher can do a lot in private lessons.

c.w: reader is 19 for repeating a year, age gap (coryo's 29), fingering, tummy bulge, heavy smut, edging (f. recieving), overstimulation, stuffed panties, mild public sex, petnames (coryo calls reader bunny, pet, good girl.), reader thinks coryo is married so . cheating implications, marriage proposal

being a dumb girl was something you tried your best to do ever since you repeated the first year of high school, watching all your friends graduating before you was something you weren't proud about- not for them, but for you. you were supposed to be by their side.

thankfully, you had your professor, coriolanus snow. god. he was the only reason for you to pay attention to class (or at least try to), you were hungry for his approval. for you to be called a "good girl", and be said that you've done well in your tests? yeah, you were willing to do anything for that.

when he offered you private classes, you said yeah without even thinking much. you needed to learn, and spending more time with him was something you craved for. the ring on his finger? fuck it. you wanted it. you deserved it. more than his wife – if he had one.

you've been day dreaming about it constantly, eyes always searching for his on every class you had with him, and he would keep that smile painted on his face, not wanting anyone to think you were the reason for him to be smiling, even if you were, the didn't need to know about it.

"bunny," he voiced, leaning on your desk and taking advantage of the fact that you both were on the library, every student on the school had gone home and the teachers had gathered to go to a nearby bar. "stop looking at my dick now, will we?" he said, chuckling at you.

"huh?" you asked, finally waking to your reality.

"you need to learn that if you don't want to repeat a grade again." he said, sitting by your side, his hand holding your thigh. "you don't want to repeat now, do you?" you shaked your head negatively, and he loved seeing you like that, shy as a kitten even if you usually had his dick on your mouth when that used to happen. "c'mon, don't look at me like that. we have to put these things on your brain if you want to graduate already." he said.

his fingers slowly travelled all the way up on your panties, finding a small damp on the fabric, he looked at you with his usual smirk, his pupils blown already from everything he was about to do to you.

and now you looked like a mess. hands gripping on the library desk as your legs trembled with the aftermath of every time you almost came. you counted six till now, crying from how good it felt having him behind you, his fingers thrusting lewdly into your cunt.

"c-coryo- t-teacher, please. please stop it, i have to cum- i can't hold it in anymore!" you begged, clenching as his fingers rubbed deliciously on your clit after thrusting so many times inside you.

"well, it's not my fault, pet. you're the one getting your questions wrong." he said, pulling his dick to tease the core of your pussy, your cries only making him feel and making his ego bigger. "tell me, baby, how do you want it?"

"q-quick, pleease! if it get slower i-i think i'll die!" you said, legs spread as your skirt revealed a small part of your ass.

"oh, c'mon, i'm sure you can take it, baby" he purred in your ear, the tip of his cock teasing your pussy and slapping your clit slightly, making your body jolt slightly. you bend over, your elbows being now your main support at that table.

"please, teacher..!" you begged. but he didn’t even bat an eye to your cries, slowly sliding his dick inside you, and fuck, you both fucked on wednesday, how come he always seems to stretch you up so good? the pace he choose to torture you with was so slow, making sure you felt every inch of his dick inside you, stretching you, making you his. "please, don't do that to me. j-just ask something easier!" you cried.

"easier? okay... let's see" his hips bucked slowly into yours, your pussy gushing around him as if your own body needed that- as if he was the hair you breathed for. "what's your age, babe?" he asked, a playful tone being cast as his free hand massaged your boob, pinching on your nipple and freeing both your boobs from it's cage.

"n-nineteen." you said, and he laughed again as he said: "good girl, you're right.", his hips giving you a powerful thrust that made you cum with only that, making you cry from your own humiliation.

"ah, bunny, don't tell me you came already only with that." he said, joking with your face as you cried.

"i'm sorry- too good. i-it was too deep." he laughed, pulling back and thrusting deeper again, this time, you made sure not to cum again, edging yourself as he changed your position to put your leg over his broad shoulder, his dick making a bulge appear at your tummy. he loved that view- much more than he loved you.

"look at you, taking me so well. how does it feel, baby? use one of the words we learned at the literature class," he grunted your tightness coating his dick with your own juices, "use them, even if it's just two, and i'll let you cum."

"tortuous," you begin, crying from how good it felt, from how dumb you were getting. "spiralling, it's twirling my insides!" you cried. and he smilled, kissing and licking your tears before placing the most gentle kiss on your lips, pouding faster into you as you closed your eyes shut, moaning and grunting from all the pleasure- and yet you tried your best to avoid moaning only to hear his moans and the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh.

"good girl." he said, his hands holding your hips as he fucked you. it felt truly out of your world experience. his phone ringed just at the right moment he hit your cervix. "t-teacher, your phone- it can be your wife." you said, earning a frown from him as he turned the phone off.

"wife? baby, i'm single." he said, chuckling at you. "you've been walking around school with my cum stuffed in your panties even thought you thought i was married?" he pounded into you with a more quicken pace. "god, what a dirty girl you are. fucking around with married teachers." he teased you.

you felt a heat on your cheeks that you never felt before. god, how much would you end up humiliating yourself? "b-but, fuck! y-your ring-"

he showed you the ring. taking it off his finger with his mouth and sticking his tongue to you, an invitation for you to take the ring.

"keep it." he said once you took the ring

"but- s-sir, i-"

"mm, bunny, i'm a faithful man." he said. "and right now, i'm faithful to you." he said. you squirmed deliciously at the feeling of his cock filling you up again, his tip on your cervix as you came again, and soon enough, he came too.

he helped you get dressed into your panties again and straightned your clothes, a cast kiss on your lips before he smiled sweetly at you, putting the ring on your middle finger.

"i hope you know what that means."

"i-i do." you said, for both questions heavily implied in that context.

"great. then make sure to graduate, bunny." he smiled. "i'm sure the honeymoon will be great."