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007reid · 1 year ago

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coffee caramels. spencer reid

this is my submission for the cm meet cute (or not) challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins ! i did VERY loose research on the stuff spencer sprouts off on because i am not our boy genius so sorry if there are any inaccuracies ':( this is my first time writing for spencer but i literally love it so much and i'd love to write more so plz flood my inbox with requests for him plzzz 😭

pairing: fem!reader x spencer reid

prompt: character sits next to a stranger in the theater, but the two end up bonding when there's a technical glitch.

warnings: slightly grumpy!reader and sunshine!spencer my fav trope <333 confident reader, reader makes the first move, spencer being a bbg and blushing a lot ;)) all the good stuff

word count: 2.7k

you arrived at the theater ten minutes early, bee-lined to the popcorn section and asked for extra butter. you loaded your oily popcorn up with coffee caramels and chocolate-covered coffee beans and bought a large coke. you walked in the theater, confident and fully armed with enough caffeine to hopefully keep you awake during the entire thing. you have tape in your bag to peel your eyes open just in case things go south, but you're confident enough to believe that it won't.

because it can't.

"aelita," your professor had said on friday, "is a russian phenomenon, and it is one of my top favorite films. considering how you are all in a russian literature class, i can make the safe assumption that you are all interested in russian culture."

now, not only were you in a russian literature class as an elective like two-thirds of your class, you were also a russian literature and poetry major. how you ended with that major baffles you and there hasn't been a day where you wanted to choose another major, but there hasn't been a day where you weren't depressed about your poor decision-making either. it's a battle you fight every day.

"aelita was first screened in 1924, and this year, next week, there will be a worldwide re-screening of the film in its originality, no edits, completely authentic, except with added subtitles for those who need it, of course," this was when your professor got very stern. "i want all of you to go and watch it. if you don't want to, fine, but there will be an assessment grade on this movie. this is not optional. i believe that the content of this movie is very true to our..."

at that point you had stopped listening, because you knew what your professor wanted you to do, and you dreaded doing it.

two hours, silent, black and white, russian film with subtitles. and you have to hang onto the movie's every word.

not your ideal saturday night plans, but for your academic career, you were willing to take that leap; looking like a sore loser at the empty theater with black framed glasses on instead of getting fucked up in someone's bathtub. it's fine. the partying was all up to the business majors anyway.

when you walked into the theater, it was, understandably, vacant, save for a couple men and women with graying hair or bald scalps and bad backs. you were clearly not the target audience. none of them had snacks on them either, and you felt awkward being the one responsible for the strong aroma of butter and coffee that stuffed the place the moment you walked in. a gentleman coughed in his hanker-chief and flared his nostrils. you were intimidated already.

you tracked down your seat and decided to not let any of it distract you. you needed a good grade on this assessment. you had already bombed your previous test on the imperial era; you don't need another bad grade stacked on top of it. you're acing this test, no matter what, and you're going to absorb this movie so well that it might as well be your favorite.

as you waited for the film to start, you munched on several of the coffee caramels, the caffeine slow to kick in. you shrugged it off. there's a whole bucket of sugar to fuel you through the film.

in midst of biting into a shelf of a chocolate-covered-coffee-bean, you heard a light thud and a hiss, and the quiet muttering of "i'm good, ow." an old man by the stairs called out;

"you alright, son?"

"yes sir," the man said. despite being alright, he was limping to his seat, and you watched him attentively, for there wasn't much else for you to observe. he limped closer and closer to you by row, ticket in his hand and checking the letters on the rows. he stopped at your row, and then walked crookedly and settled down in the seat right next to you.

you chewed on your popcorn as you directed your attention somewhere else, your determination slightly deflated. the film was late into starting, but you were still going strong.

"oh wow," you heard the man mumbled next to you, and looked over to see what he was talking about, nosy. but he was looking at you.

"what?" you said indignantly, immediately dropping the oily popcorn in your hand and wiping at your mouth, feeling oddly self-conscious. but mostly irritated. you'd say you hid your whiplash pretty well when you saw how pretty the man was when you looked over at him. you were so smooth with it. "chocolate on my face?"

"what? oh, no," the man breathed out a small laugh. he's got a soft, shy voice that got your insides feeling like broken tomato bits.

"then what?" you demanded, but not too authoritatively because you didn't want to chase him away. you kept it cool and in control. totally. it was hard to find eye candy in quantico, and the last place you would expect to find someone so pretty is in the theater for a fucking silent film.

even though it was dark, you could still catch the bright blush that crept up the man's neck, but it might be because he felt hot under all those layers. seriously, he was dressed like your grandpa, sweater vest, tie, collared shirt and all, but it was tied together in some kind of way that made it work, and it was the way the man carried himself that made him look youthful in all those ancient clothing.

"nothing," he ducked his head away, "i was just talking out loud."

you didn't have to be sherlock holmes to know that he was lying. "you liar," you accused, wiping your hand even more aggressively over your face. "i do have something on my face, don't i? just tell me if i do!"

"you don't have anything on your face!" he said, an indecisive and uncracked smile playing on his lips. you grumbled and turned back to look at the screen, still waiting for the film to start, popping candy in your mouth. in was silent for a merciful while, until the man said, "did you know that dmitri shostakovich conducted the music for this film and during its first showings in leningrad since the film was silent he came personally and played the piano whenever the soundtrack would be playing?"

you hummed. no you did not.

"i was surprised when i saw you, you don't look over sixty at all," the man continued. you didn't know how to take this piece of information as a compliment or an insult. "whenever i come to these things, it's only me who doesn't have grey hair. well, some people dye it, which looks pretty obvious because you can't really hide age, y'know?"

usually you'd be annoyed. very annoyed, in fact, you'd switch seats to be away from the guy. but this one's got a nice voice, and the moment he sat down you caught a scent to him immediately, that old cashmere and cotton scent that comes from old, thrifted clothes that you'll find dug deep somewhere in your grandmother's basement or in vintage stores, and sugar cookies and mint and coffee. it's a good smell, is all. you weren't being creepy about it.

"i'm not over sixty," you assured him. "just scraping twenty-two."

"oh! i'm twenty-two too!" the man said excitedly. he had child's glee to him, which you found more endearing than annoying. you didn't know why. you didn't know why you were still sitting with the man instead of scurrying three rows away like you would have normally the moment any stranger tried to attempt small talk with you.

maybe you were a changed woman.

"how crazy," you mused. you didn't sound half as interested or excited as the man did, but he had most definitely got your undivided attention. you nature tells you to not show it.

"how did you hear about this movie? i tried to get some of my friends to watch it with me, but none of them were too interested...except emily, she's usually more interested because she can speak russian but she got plans this weekend," his face fell into a thoughtful frown at the end, and the clockwork in your brain started to turn at the mention of 'emily.' was that his girlfriend? special lady? you shouldn't be googling, then.

"my professor created an assessment for this movie," at the man's inquiring look, you explained further, "it's for my russian lit class."

his eyes shone like a fucking diamond at that, as if russian lit was the most exciting thing he had ever heard of in his life. you could tell that you were looking at the kind of guy who would decline a party full of seniors to go read a dictionary at home. "is that like an elective you take? 'cause it's a subject that fascinates me a lot, but the demand for it is so slim that--"

he was cut off by the movie finally starting and flickering to life. you turned away immediately, eyes focused and attention zeroed onto the introduction screen. screw the pretty boy for now, you thought, you might as well pack your things and go back to your hometown if you fuck up this movie's assessment. it needed your attention.

black and white and grimy, a pretty font wrote 'aelita, adapted by alexei tolstoy.' but as soon as the film started, the picture quickly collapsed, blurring and then fading into black. with the audience being so small, there wasn't much commotion but whispers of confusion began to arise as the lights began to bleed more yellow, lighting up the theater more. it was as if the movie was over.

"sorry folks," a voice came from the grainy megaphone above all of them. "some trouble with the tape. we are trying our best, but not sure of our luck. all tickets will be refunded if bought online or you bring your ticket to us for a mark so you can present your current ticket right now at the next showing. thanks for your patience."

you looked exaggeratedly around, and the man in the sweater vest next to you looked equally as disappointed.

"my professor is not going to believe me," you muttered under your breath, but the man caught it anyway and chuckled quietly. you looked down at your still full bucket of popcorn and your large coke. you glanced over to the man next to you, not too smart things lottering around in your head. you travel through the subway, and the ride to your street is not until two hours. you weren't going to spend it morosely eating popcorn in the waiting lobby.

"is emily your girlfriend?" you asked suddenly. there was no point in being shy. the man's mouth unhinged from his jaw immediately, and you stared at him. his cheeks quickly stained an innocent pink.

"what?" he squeaked, his voice a higher pitch, caught off-guard. "no! no, she-she's my coworker!" he sounded almost offended.

this took you by surprise. you didn't know people who were close to their coworkers existed. "so you don't have a girlfriend?"

the blush on the man's face kept getting brighter and brighter. you bit your lip to keep from smiling like a fool. with how endeared you were by him, it's strange to think that you don't even know his name yet. it was rare for you to really be so mindful and think such soft things about somebody, especially to a stranger.

you were a changed woman. but maybe it's because of the coffee caramels messing with your head. sugar and caffeine tend to do that.

"no," the man said, then cleared his throat. he was fiddling with his fingers, an obvious stim. "no, i don't have a girlfriend."

"sweet," you grinned, "then no one would mind if i take you on a date, would they?"

he choked and got engulfed in a coughing fit, bending over in his seat. the red of his sweater vest nearly blinded you but you patted his back supportively. when his coughing ceased and he sat back up again, his eyes avoided yours for a while as he fought to keep the redness in his face down before he looked at you again.

"so?" you raised your eyebrow. "the night doesn't wait, pretty boy."

the nickname just slipped out of your mouth, and you cringed at the weight of it. how out of pocket. you were going to go home and contemplate this conversation later. but right now, you were trying to take out probably the sweetest looking boy you've ever seen, and that was a more important matter as of.

"okay," he said, and that was that.

"okay," you repeated. "let's start with finishing this, yeah?" you looked down at your bothersomely big bucket of popcorn. "we can walk to the park and eat it and feed it to the ducks."

"actually, it's not safe for ducks to consume popcorn because it causes digestive issues especially if consumed in large quantities and disrupts their natural diet," the man recited matter-of-factly, blinking at you obliviously as if he just didn't acted like a fucking android. you huffed out a laugh. handsome and smart. pretty much a package deal.

"the popcorn will be just for us then," you promised, standing up. he followed suit, as a lone line of people started to exit the theater. "i hope you aren't a serial killer in disguise," you said jokingly, but not really, because that was a genuine threat. he laughed. it was a sweet, syrupy sound that you could soak up and not get sick of for a long time.

"that's ironic," he mumbled, and it flew past your head, you being too busy maneuvering out of the rows.

"what was that?"

"nothing," he smiled, bright and easy. the initial nervousness was already beginning to melt away. when you were side by side, his hand accidentally brushed yours and when you looked up at him, he was already looking another way, pretending to be distracted by the movie posters but the red in his ears and neck gave it away. you smiled to yourself and grabbed his hand, holding your bucket of popcorn in the other.

"i forgot," you said, suddenly. his head whipped around to face you, but not before lingering his gaze at your intertwined hands. "i didn't get your name."

it was a foolish thing to say, you were holding a man's hand and you were pressed up side-by-side against him and you don't even know his name. he smiled softly, though, like he didn't mind. "i'm spencer reid."

"i'm y/n y/l/n."

"hi y/n," spencer said. you exited the theater and he started slightly swinging your joined hands. you laughed, the popcorn and candy in the bucket rattling and threatening to spill but you didn't care. "i'm a little disappointed," he said, pouting a little bit, bottom lip jutting out. "i was excited for the movie."

you breathed out an incredulous laugh. what a guy.

"i wasn't," you said, honestly. yours and spencer's arms were still swinging, and you resisted the uncharacteristic giggle bubbling at your throat. "rather be doing this instead." unexpected date at the park with a pretty boy in a red sweater vest or a boring silent film? the answer sounded pretty obvious to you.

"hm," spencer hummed, amused. "i guess i can catch the movie some other time."

"you can catch it with me," you blurted, and it sounded too early to say. you haven't had a proper conversation with the guy yet, you didn't know what he does and how he is, you didn't know whether or not he has a cat or a dog or a parrot or a ferret or if his room is kept tidy or messy, and you didn't know how much you were going to like him once the night is over. asking for a second date when the first one hadn't even started felt like too much, but it also felt like the right thing to say.

and if it's right, it's good enough for you.

spencer smiled shyly. when you turned right on the street, he pulled you back by your hand and redirected you left. "let's go the scenic route," he said, casually, and you could tell by the magenta tinge in his cheeks and the way he was firmly looking forward, avoiding your eyes that he wasn't feeling as casual as he sounded.

"want some of my popcorn?" you offered, feeling the large bucket was burdening you.

"oh, no thanks," spencer said. "i'm sure the pigeons will appreciate it more than me."

"does popcorn ruin their digestive system and disrupt their natural diet, too?"

spencer popped a large grin. it sat beautiful on his pretty face. "you listened," he said happily, and it felt like a large airbag had just inflated in your lungs. "no, i think pigeons are too used to picking our food, especially those in the city," a long pause, and "in fact, pigeons have a stronger digestive system than most birds due to adaptation, but the strongest out of all of them are vultures, whose stomach acid are so strong it doesn't get sick e eating rotten and bacteria-infested meats."

you hummed. you wished you had paid closer attention to what he said, but instead you paid attention to the smooth sound of his voice and how nice it sounded. well. you'll get there one day.

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manicpixiefelix · 1 year ago

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head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 3.

Summary: Your second year at Oxford brings with it Farleigh, much to your delight, and you get to learn about Farleigh's personal nemesis (which he rolls his eyes at every time you call him that) Oliver. It turns out Oliver's actually very lovely, and does Felix quite the favour one unassuming morning. Farleigh's not happy to see him again, but Felix is.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: heavy drinking by everyone at the pub including the reader, and 'dog' being used to demean the reader once.

A/N: 5101 words. much longer than the last ones, and we finally have oliver!! very excited to FINALLY be able to write their weird little fuckin dynamic at oxford, i love them all very much. im a bit unhappy with the pacing of the beginning but i like how it picks up once oli is introduced, but also the bar scene is SO LONG and i will not apologise i love them your honour. id be mighty grateful for any feedback or if you have any thoughts in general about the story, i stare at so many kind asks in my inbox lovingly, i will answer them very soon i promise!! also this is so unedited, sorry lol.

Taglist: @strangemaximoff @renaissance-mama @tsach @malscorner @xhoneymoonx134 @yelchinweasleylothbrok @tarriea @florencediet @butitsbetterifyoudoittoem @belladonnadarksshade @fandom-multiamory @snazzynacho @jubileexoxo @soocore @be-lla-vie @nightingale2124 @willow-sages @null4ndv0id @gracieluvthemoon @day2dream @marvellover98 @navixfr @bitxhinthecomments @daintylovers @alesunsets @noturningbacknow @d0llysposts @alilcloudy @callsignwidow @moviequotes23 @325575 @bonnieblue0606 @osoqueen125 @hot-dino-nuggies @darkness-falls-xo @mattymurderdocks @flowerecs @weepingwitchofthewest @ilovemydinoboi @marsmallow433 @king0flies @cashtons-wife

----

At first you don't notice him for who he is. At first you hear about Farleigh's insufferable tutoring partner. At first, Oliver Quick means absolutely nothing to you.

The most important part of your second year of college is that Farleigh has finally conceded to joining you and Felix at Oxford. Once, during the last Summer break, while Felix had been off confronting his at-the-time good friend Eddie, after Farleigh had told him Eddie and Venetia had been sleeping together, you and Farleigh had gotten high in the maze to avoid the fallout.

Since the Cattons were paying for his education, he'd admitted that he wanted to remove himself as much as possible from his mother's legacy and memory and the guilt Sir James held about his sister. It would be hard to do at a college where he would be a legacy student because of his mother's attendance. You think you partly understood; certain people, usually staff, liked to kiss your ass when they found out about your own legacy status and the people your parents became, you're not so sure they'd treat Farleigh the same, all things considered.

But he's out of options.

Sometimes you're not sure what to make of Farleigh; his strange place in the Catton family was never something they seemed to like to discuss around you, but Farleigh was far more candid about it. So when he pulls these stunts, gets himself kicked out of schools, puts himself in precarious positions despite how you knew he genuinely enjoyed academics, especially literature, you can't help but wonder why.

"Don't try and pathologize it," you could hear him rolling his eyes as he attempted to scale the minotaur statue in the middle of the maze. Looking up at him from where you're laying in the grass, you watch him rise above the walls into the sunshine. Maybe it's dangerous, maybe he should stop, get down, be safe, but he looks far more content up there, on the edge. Maybe he feels freer up there, even if he knows it's not true.

So now he's with you and Felix at Oxford, a first year only academically, he slots perfectly into the group of friends you'd both already managed to collect.

The point is, you have no idea that of everything that happens in those first few weeks of your second year, the parties, the hook ups, the social dances you found yourself doing, that the guy Farleigh likes to complain about from his tutoring sessions - Oliver, Farleigh always says it with an eye roll - would mean so much more to you than you'd ever expect.

Everything about the man you would come to find extraordinary, from the outside, was completely, and charmingly, ordinary. Including how you'd met him.

Felix had overslept again, and threw a pillow at the door when you'd stuck your head into his room to remind him that he had classes. You'd left yourself enough time to walk, but Felix would have to at least run if he didn't get his ass up soon, or would ride his bike instead. Its on your way, so you duck your head in to at least check it there.

What you don't expect is the unassuming man with dark hair to have a gentle, almost caressing hand on the tire of Felix's bike. When you make a confused noise, he about jumps a foot in the air.

"Sorry," he seems to shrink in from himself, recoiling from the bike like he'd been caught red handed, "just admiring." He babbles, but can't meet your eyes. For a moment, you look over him, before turning your attention to the ludicrously expensive mountain bike that Felix has always taken for granted.

"It is a nice bike," you find yourself grinning, stepping towards the bike and giving the tire a squeeze, both as a show of your own appreciation, and to test the pressure, just in case, "didn't mean to spook you..." And you trail off, prompting for his name, holding your hand out.

It hangs in the air for a moment, and the man before you gives you a proper look over. The way he holds himself, as if trying to take up as little space as physically possible, but his eyes, his gaze, oh it longed to swallow whole every detail of everything he cast it upon.

"Oliver," he says after a very long moment. Despite his demure voice, there's something deliberate, unwavering about it, "Quick," he follows it up with, "I'm Oliver Quick." And he ducks his gaze, sparing you from his intensity as you shake his hand.

"Oliver Quick," you turn the name over on your tongue; the same Oliver that Farleigh's been complaining about, you ponder, before giving him a smile, "I'm Y/N." As soon as the handshake drops, Oliver's doing that thing again, shrinking back and looking uncomfortable in the space.

"Yeah, I think I've seen you around," Oliver nods but can't meet your gaze, "around campus, I mean -" Which reminds you -

"Fuck, I'm almost running late," you hissed, spinning on your heel, "sorry to run Ollie, you seem lovely!" You call over your shoulder as you bolt to class, hearing him calling out;

"No trouble," and awkwardly trailing off the further away you get, "you seem... very nice too..."

Bursting through the door to your tutorial with five minutes to spare, your lecture looks up from his desk for a brief moment. Giving him a nod, you try and slip past him to grab a seat by one of your friends, chatting near the back, when he raises his voice.

"No Mister Catton today either, I presume," he says with a sigh, and you again check you watch before plastering on an apologetic smile.

"He'll be here," you assured, "promise." The professor did not seem impressed.

Sitting next to India, she immediately greets you with a hug.

"Felix hung over?" She grins, and you anyway in respond with a smirk.

"After last night? I'd assume so."

"King's Arms tonight?"

"Of course."

When he does eventually show up, it's ten minutes late with an apology about how his bike had gotten a flat tire. The professor, just tells him to take a seat, and Felix does with many placating thanks, sliding into one of the open few open seats in the row in front of yours. Ruffling his hair, he throws a faintly guilty grin over his shoulder at you and India, telling you both not to start.

After the tutorial, you fully intend of having lunch with India, as the two of you don't have any other classes until the afternoon, the two of you walk with Felix to where he'd stashed his bike before his next lecture. Except -

"That's not yours," you look at the bicycle curiously, "I thought you had a flat."

"Had," Felix agrees, wheeling the unfamiliar bike from the rack with a grin, "bloody angel of a man lent me his."

"Of course someone just gave you their bike," India chuckles, reaching out to give Felix's shoulder a squeeze before he mounts the bike with intent to take off.

"Lent," Felix grinned back, "I'm gonna give it back."

"And what about yours?" You asked, eyebrows raised.

"He took it back for me."

"Your hero," you laughed, shaking your head at him.

"My absolute hero," Felix agreed, "I'll tell you about it later, okay? King's Arms tonight?"

And once he's away, and you and India are on your way to the campus cafe, her arm tucked in hers, she gives you a knowing, almost exasperated smile.

"You're already trying to figure out how to fix his tire, aren't you?" Her nails dig a little too much and her smile's a little too sly and her tone almost grates against a thought you don't like to consider, so you push it to the back of your mind and give an embarrassed little smile.

"Was it that obvious?"

"No, but you are," she leans in, lips almost against your ear, smile in her voice, "endearingly predictable," she murmurs against the shell of your ear, "you're always wrapped up in him."

"Right now I seem to be rather wrapped up in you," you rest your free hand on hers, tucked into the crook of her elbow, taking her hint and lowering your voice to something flirty.

"And make darling Felix wait?" She teased in response. Instead of answering her properly, you ask her back to your dorm under the guise of lunch and she happily accepts.

The bike shop is closed and Felix has class and you can't even be sure if this supposed bike saviour has even returned Felix's bike by now; there's no waiting, but India likes feeling prioritised, so you keep all that to your self. India likes to feel important in Felix's life. Anyone who Felix spends even a little of his time and attention on ends up rather addicted to that feeling, to feeling special to Felix Catton, and India is one of the many who have picked up on your own importance to the man himself.

So you're not dating India. You're also not not dating India; you're a placeholder of sorts, which would be cruel to you if you didn't like her well enough or if you weren't satisfied taking your fun with her. It would also probably be cruel to India if she knew the truth, that Felix thought she was hot and wasn't ready to commit to maybe dating her, but that he was getting that way he sometimes got about people, that he wanted them around, wanting to not share them, but without devoting himself to them. That's where you come in. A placeholder. A proxy. An almost. Someone who makes this pretty girl feel important and close to Felix. Someone Felix isn't worried about falling in love with India even while keeping her happy and around.

When you arrive late to the King's Arms with your own around India's shoulders, Felix lights up while Farleigh, from beside him, narrows his eyes with a smirk.

"Cute shade of lipstick," he says slyly, even as he moves over at Felix's insistence to fit both yourself and India in the booth beside him. Farleigh flicks the collar of the shirt you'd thrown on in a rush to get dressed for afternoon classes, "on both of you."

"Are you jealous, Farleigh?" India grins, taking it all in stride as you pull your collar out with your thumb to try and inspect it. India's lipstick was smeared faintly against the collar from where she'd been enthusiastically kissing her way down your jaw a few hours earlier.

"Of course," Farleigh's sly smile widens to a cocky grin, and he winks at her, while she leans over you to plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth with a wicked grin.

"Right in front of her partner?" Annabel, Felix's latest fling was on his other side, reaching over Felix to shove Farleigh's shoulder with a scandalised laugh.

"Not really together," India mused, even as she shifted to lean heavily against you, her arm around you and tucking herself up by your side. You nodded in kind, shrugging as Felix had to hide his laughter in his pint.

"And besides," Farleigh declares in a voice you knew all too well, "if anyone knows how to share it's Y/N," with a cheshire-cat smile and making a show of putting his hand far up your thigh under the table. Surprised by the outright boldness of it all, Felix, who had been trying to take a sip to cover his amusement, ends up snorting beer out of his nose as he laughs, which sets the whole table off.

It's later in the night, several rounds of drinks and plates of chips, when you finally remember to ask Felix about his bike. There's this look in his eyes as he recounts the details, how he'd somehow gotten on the wrong side of something small and sharp when he'd been found by his 'absolute hero'.

"Ollie," he says brightly, "Ollie - Oliver - something, I don't -" he's babbling, and though he doesn't at the time, both yourself and Farleigh react, though in vastly different ways.

"Oliver?" Farleigh draws out the name with disdain, like it's done him some sort of personal affront, or set off a bad smell, judging by his expression.

"Don't make that face," Felix rolls his eyes, giving Farleigh a good-natured shove, but it's all becoming background noise to you as you glance over your shoulder. In your mind, all you can focus on the brief but captivating moments you shared with a blue-eyed Oliver just this morning. As if by fate, when you finally come back to reality, and realise you're staring at the bar, you see those same blue eyes staring back at you, intense and surprised.

"There he is!" Behind you, Felix's voice raises above the din of the pub with barely restrained glee, "Ollie! Oliver! Oliver!" And immediately those blue eyes snap to your attention-grabbing best friend, "come over here, mate!" Felix insists, and you drop your gaze with a faint smile.

As Felix loudly and insistently vies for Oliver's attention and company, you briefly raise your gaze, only to see the disdain on Farleigh's face having grown immensely.

Oliver. Farleigh's classmate Oliver. Insufferable tutoring Oliver. Know-it-all Oliver. 'Thus' Oliver. No regard for style in his academics or his wardrobe Oliver.

Felix's hero, Oliver.

Considering how much joy Farleigh took from ribbing you at every given opportunity, just to see your squirm for his amusement, you supposed you could take some joy from his discomfort in this moment. When he sees your smug smile he scowls at you.

"This guy's my fucking hero," you've heard that warmth in Felix's voice a hundred times over, "just telling everyone how you saved my ass today," you wonder how long it will take Oliver to fall for him too.

Oliver, for his part, plays at being abashed as the rest of the group gives him faint compliments, gaze surprisingly shallow as he takes you all in. Keeping your own eyes down for the moment, you take the cigarette from India that you'd been sharing with her. You quickly reach into Felix's jean pocket beside you for the lighter you know is there, and when you look up to light it, cigarette poised between your lips, you see Oliver's gaze momentarily focused on the lack of space between yourself and Felix, where your hand had disappeared. Felix, you know without even having to look at him, hasn't even looked away from Oliver once.

"Take a seat, I owe you a drink," Felix grins, and is already shoving the few people on his left, before you put a hand on his arm to get him to settle down.

"Could you get the next round, India?" You ask her quietly, and though she hesitates for a moment, she relents, considering it was meant to be her shout after all.

Oliver is hesitating as India stands and smooths out her skirt, heading for the bar, and finally Felix remembers that most people's worlds don't revolve around him.

"Oh, sorry, are you with friends?"

Another moment of deliberation from Oliver, before he finally relents to Felix, and agrees to join them. Looking around, there's a chair next to a table behind Farleigh that was going unused, or -

When you pat the now empty seat at the end of the booth beside yourself, you're not looking at Oliver. Chin in your hand and cigarette poised between your fingers, you're giving Farleigh a grin that's all teeth, while he looks like he's trying to stave off a sudden tension headache.

"Come here, Oliver Quick," you refuse to explain your smug smile, "I don't bite."

"Yes they do," Farleigh huffs in irate response, to which most of the rest of the group cracks up. The leather beside you shifts, and you can feel the heat Oliver radiates before you even look at him.

"Quick, Oliver Quick!" Felix, behind you, is muttering almost to himself, before adding, "wait, how did you know that?" And throwing himself practically over your shoulder as you'd turned to face Oliver properly.

"We met this morning," you say quietly, gaze fixed on Oliver's, on the way he's taking you both in. With Felix's chin on your shoulder, the two of you cheek to cheek and watching him with interest, it could be enough to send anyone else running. But his gaze isn't the shallow one he'd ghosted across the others, he's drinking this moment, and the both of you, in. Smile stretching wide across your face and you tip your head against Felix's, "just as lovely as I thought," and turning your face even slightly towards Felix means your lips against his temple, not that either of you seem to mind, "your hero."

"My fuckin' hero," Felix agrees adamantly, though you and he sit back as India approaches with a tray of pints and an exasperated look.

"And you've given up my seat," she sighs, placing the drinks on the table for everyone else to take their share. Farleigh's already passive-aggressively reached behind himself to grab the extra empty chair, and you promise to make it up to her with a heavy layer of implications that the rest of the table snickers at.

Introductions are made and drinks are had and the night carries on apace until you, at the very least, felt like you could call yourself reasonably wasted. Despite how quiet Oliver is in the general conversation, Felix makes a point of always including him, arm around your shoulders so he can lean across you to talk to him, while Oliver just tried to keep up.

Everything about Oliver shouted that these people weren't his people; his clothes, his accent, his vernacular, his very unfamiliarity with who so many of them were considering their families were often titans of industry. Still, you respected the effort he was making to keep up. Whenever even the hint of a joke at Oliver's expense could be felt in the air, Felix shut it down, and though it started out subtle, it became less so as the night wore on; the grateful look on Oliver's face, even as he tried to duck to hide it, said how much he appreciated the gesture.

It's decided almost unanimously by the time you have to buy a round that it should be the first round of shots for the table. Several more would be to come, but you were getting tequila, and all the fanfare that came with it.

Getting back to the table you find Oliver's slid into your spot by Felix. Though he tries to apologise and get up, you shush him, insisting it's fine as you sit down next to him with the tray of shots topped with lime wedges, and the shot glass half full of salt for the table the bartender had kindly provided.

"You do know this is why I was late to my tutorial this morning," Felix still helped himself to a shot glass with lime as the salt was being passed around the table.

"Salt?" Oliver frowned at the glass in front of him, "lime?"

"You've never done tequila shots before?" Farleigh scoffed, holding India's hand up in front of himself where she'd offered it to him to apply salt.

"No, I haven't," is all Oliver can say awkwardly, watching as Farleigh sprinkled a line of salt across the back of India's aloft hand, licking it up in one swift motion before he took the shot and bit the lime in quick succession.

"Salt, shot, lime," you give Oliver a nudge to bring his attention back to you.

"Salt, shot, lime," Oliver repeats, looking from his glass to the glass full of salt that Felix had reached over and brought to your side of the table, "do I have to lick the salt off of someone else?"

"Not necessarily," Felix says from his other side, while Annabel giggled and allowed him to apply salt to her hand.

"More fun that way," she adds coyly.

"Not unless you want to," your own shot glass sits untouched, salt now sitting between both your glasses.

"Do you- should I-" Oliver's stumbling over his words, fidgeting with the end of the lime.

"Lick it off their neck," Farleigh barked from across the table, and though you tried to tell Oliver that he didn't have to do anything like that, and Felix's disappointed admonishment of his cousin, the entire rest of the table, who had finished their own shots and were now invested in the drama, light up with agreement.

"You're so crass, you're gonna give him the wrong idea," Felix groaned, rolling his eyes with frustration.

"I love Y/N but I don't think there is a wrong idea about them -"

"Watch what the fuck you say about them, Farleigh -"

"Watch what I say about your fucking dog-?"

"I'll lick their neck!" Oliver announces at the top of his lungs, interrupting the vicious barb, and the way Felix had practically leapt across half the table in a sudden fury. For a long moment, tense silence hangs in the air, Farleigh half out of his chair, wearing a sneer, and Felix braced over the table with white-knuckled fists pressed into the woodgrain. Then, as Felix sits back down and things begin to ease, once again all eyes return to Oliver, who's shifting in his seat, looking at you with almost apology in his eyes, "if- if you're okay with that."

After a beat, you break into a self deprecating smile.

"I do like getting my neck licked," you laughed, and immediately angled your head and pulled the collar of your shirt to the side so he could have a better angle and more of your shoulder to apply salt. The tension dropped almost entirely as everyone but Farleigh and Felix burst out in cheers. Chatter arose again as Oliver fumbled with the salt, but you caught Felix's eyes from behind him. Tension in his brow that you longed to smooth away, and discomfort in his gaze, but when you smiled you could see him take a breath, and smile back.

"I won't bite," it comes as a surprise when you hear Oliver say this, so quiet only you can hear as he diligently applies a sprinkle of salt to the soft skin of where your throat meets your shoulder, "promise," you can't see his expression but you think you can hear him smirking. It actually sounds almost like flirting.

India's been glaring at you across the table whenever she hasn't been flirting overtly with Farleigh for the past half an hour. So you flirt back.

"Not even if I ask nicely?" You murmur back, trying to repress the thrill that the whole moment was giving you. You hear the faintest, momentary rumble of a laugh from Oliver before you feel his hand on your thigh as if to steady himself, and his tongue on your neck. It's barely a second of contact, the delicate caress of his mouth as he licked the line of salt clear from your skin. Quickly, he then takes the shot, and swallows before biting down on the lime, making a pained face as the table cheered.

His hand is still on your thigh; his grip is tight.

As he's spluttering and grinning and Felix is clapping him on the back for the effort, he's rather abashedly offering himself to you, if you'd like to repeat the same salt process on him -

"You've done enough for your first shot, Ollie," you told him with a fond nudge, happily applying salt to the back of your own hand, completing the ritual with far less fanfare. Still, when you glance past Oliver to Felix, you see the way he's regarding the newcomer, with a kind of awe and warmth. This too you know well.

Crammed so close in the booth, Felix's arm stays around Oliver's shoulders for most of the rest of the night, and while no-one can see it, Oliver's hand remains on your thigh. Sometimes he taps along to the music of the pub that you've already tuned out, sometimes he's rubbing small circles with his thumb, or give you a squeeze when he's laughing at a joke, but it never waivers.

The more drunk you become, the more you find yourself leaning into him, and you begin to tune out the conversation, focusing only on your drink, the warmth of Oliver and his hand on you, and on the sensation of Felix's hand playing with your hair since his arm was around Oliver's shoulders, and you're leaning your head against him.

Everything's become blurry, your brain is still trying to catch up after you take another shot from muscle memory alone when Farleigh starts insisting on Oliver shout the next round, and for that round to be jaeger bombs.

"We just did shots," you shake your head with a faint frown, but the movement makes you feel all kind of queasy.

"You tapping out?" Farleigh, in much better spirits considering how many he'd consumed, is all wide, challenging smiles full of teeth.

"Nope," you again shake your head, against your better judgement, "never ever ever." Everything is spinning, even with your eyes closed.

"Then you shouldn't be letting Ollie snake his way out of paying for his round," Farleigh sounds all kinds of smug, and despite how you're all kind of done with him for tonight, and Oliver is trying to insist that he's not trying to wiggle out of paying for a round, the rest of the table have apparently taken up Farleigh's crusade. They're booing him, hissing at him, while Farleigh's smugness screams social triumph; you can feel Oliver's fingers twitching on your thigh, like he wants to be fidgeting but can't bring himself to let you go.

"Fine," Oliver relents to the peer pressure, letting you go and throwing his hands in the air, "can you move a sec?" He asks, and you shuffle out to let him past, before scooting back in and back beside a once more frustrated Felix.

Farleigh argues that it's the rules of the pub when Felix asks him to give Oliver a break, but you don't really hear them. You've cleared enough space on the table in front of you to be able to cross your arms on the table, laying your head on your arms to try and see if it would help. Felix is rubbing soothing circles on your back as he argues with Farleigh, probably out of pure habit, so you try and focus on that sensation, and picking a point that you see that you can focus on.

Everything's sideways, the bar, the people, the street outside, but it doesn't matter. In the moments you find yourself focusing on Oliver in the cool light of the bar, everything else falls away. He looks antsy and uncomfortable, watching the bartender pour the shots, wallet in his hand. You'd have paid in a heartbeat if Farleigh hadn't been so insistent on attacking Oliver's pride. Everything else about him was so charmingly ordinary, perhaps that's why Farleigh was infuriated by him, and why he'd attacked Oliver's pride, one of the few things that Farleigh probably believed Oliver had of value to himself.

Tomorrow, you and Farleigh were having words.

Tonight, you wanted to somehow help Oliver without making any kind of big deal about it. Problem was, you weren't sure how. You weren't even sure if you were capable of walking in straight line right now.

"Fi -" when you turn your head to your other side, you see Felix, half finished a cigarette, with a pensive look on his face as he too was watching Oliver. When he looks at you there's a moment that the two of you share, of understanding, of compassion and a shared goal, "can you get me a glass of water?" You asked, knowing he'd take the hint. Thankfully, he smiles at you, the two of you shuffling once more so he could get out of the booth and head towards Oliver and the bar.

Leaning on the end of the booth, you wait for Felix to return before you sit back down, instead focusing on the interaction between the two men at the bar. It's not that you can hear them, but you can see the grateful but anxious look in Oliver's eyes, and the way he can't look away from Felix's smile, and something sharp and bright and intrigued lights up in your chest.

There's a moment as the interaction begins winding down, when Felix takes the tray of drinks, and looks back at your gathered group of friends. His eyes meet yours, faint flicker of familiar affection passing in the next moment as he says something else to Oliver before he's making a beeline back to the group.

"Thank you, Ollie!" He announces brightly, much to the cheer and delight of the rest of the group once the jaeger bombs are set down at the table. Caught up in the sudden influx of joy, you chant Ollie's name, clapping along, not even realising that since you'd let go of the booth you were starting to take on a lean.

"You're fucking legless," Felix crows with laughter, who had already slid back into the booth and was now taking you by the arm and sitting you back down beside himself, "I'm cutting you off, you're on the waters now," he joked, arm around you to steady you, though you weren't inclined to disagree. Thankfully, in the next moment, a water was being placed in front of you, and a cheer was once again rising from the group as Oliver rejoined you all, bashful smile on his face as everyone was lavishing praise on him for following through with buying the round.

The glass was cold and clear and faintly frosted, few ice cubes floating delicately on top of the pint of water before you, looking absolutely perfect in this golden, humid pub. Even just reaching out and holding the cold glass of water in your hands seemed to make everything a little less blurry at the edges.

As you dragged the glass towards you, surprised by your sudden craving for fresh, cold water, praise tumbles from your lips, words half blurring together, and Oliver takes his seat once more beside you.

"Ollie, you're my fucking hero."

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #felix catton x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x you #oliver quick x y/n #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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lnfours · 9 months ago

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"there you go. that's more like it." has been living rent free in my head at all times lately. he's so gorgeous and especially when he smiles/laughs 🥺 what about lando finding you beating yourself up after some kind of failure (plus points if it's an academic one) and cheers you up + the "there you go. that's more like it." when he successfully does so?

this clip has also been living in my head rent free, like i need him in so many different ways it's actually insane.

cleaning out my inbox

you knew you hadn't done well on the test when you had sat down to take it. no matter how much you had studied, nothing was sticking. it was like the topics on the page were going in one ear and out the other.

you tried not to let grades define you, tried your hardest to tell yourself that it was just one test, you'd be fine. everything was okay, it wasn't the end of the world.

he had noticed you were upset early on into the morning when he left to go train. you had sat on the couch under a blanket all day, switching between scrolling on your phone and watching your favorite movies, something you did when you were trying to cheer yourself up.

he had stopped at the flower shop on his way home, picking up the best bouquet they had and stopping at the corner store to grab your favorite snacks. he was determined to brighten your day, even if he didn't know the reason why you were so down, he didn't like seeing you upset. not in the slightest.

you heard the front door close, followed by his voice, "'m home!"

"in the kitchen!" you called back, standing at the pan on the stove. he walked into the room, hands behind his back to try to conceal his gifts. he walked up behind you, placing a kiss on your cheek, "whatcha making?"

"well, it was supposed to be stir fry," you said, poking around the ingredients in the pan, "but i don't think it's turned out."

he grabbed the spoon from your hands, lifting it to his mouth and blowing on it before eating it. you watched him, searching his facial features for an answer. when he scrunched his nose, you sighed heavily.

"damn it!" you were frustrated. why couldn't things go right? just for once?

he placed the spoon down, turning the burner off under the pan, "hey, hey," he said, watching you lean on the counter with your head in your hands, "it's okay, it's fine, it's salvageable."

he placed a hand on your back as you tried your hardest to fight off the tears welling up in your eyes. he placed a hand on your back comfortingly, "hey, pretty girl," he said, rubbing your back softly, "can you look at me?"

you sat up, turning around to face him as your back pressed into the counter. you bit down on your lower lip as he wiped the tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb, "what's wrong, honey?"

"i just can't do anything right," you said shakily, "i failed my test the other day, i can't make stir fry. i feel so dumb, like what else can't i do?"

"that doesn't mean you aren't capable of doing something," he said, "we all fail, but we get back up, don't we? it's part of learning, part of growing."

he was right and you knew it, but you still had to resist the urge to feel like you were a complete and utter failure.

"you're the smartest person i've ever met," he said, "no matter what you always continue to amaze me. don't ever doubt, not even for a second, that you're something you're not."

you nodded at him, leaning into his touch on your cheek, "'m sorry,"

"don't apologize," he said, "we all need to hear it again once in a while."

you smiled, eyes traveling down to where his arm was still hidden behind his back, "what've you got there?"

he smirked, "you only get to see if you say you're smart."

you huffed with a smile, laughing softly, "i'm smart."

"there you go, that's more like it," he said, holding the bouquet and bag of snacks between the two of you, "saw these and thought they'd make your day better."

you smiled up at your boyfriend, your heart clenching in your chest. you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. he kissed you back sweetly, the kiss turning hungry when he placed the flowers and bag on the counter, hands finding your hips instead. he lifted you up on the counter, standing between your legs, lips brushing against yours as he spoke, "i love you."

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writingquestionsanswered · 1 year ago

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IDK how many people are running the account, but if you or a member of the team running the account has ADHD, do you have any tips for ADHD writers, particularly when trying to get WIPs done? Outlines don't work for me like 99% of the time ;_;

Tips for Writing with ADHD

Here's what works for me, but your mileage may vary...

1 - Know What Outline Works for You - You say outlines don't work for you 90% of the time, but what type of outline are you using? Many people hear the word "outline" and imagine an academic outline with roman numerals and bullet points, but that's not what most fiction writers mean when they talk about using an outline. For fiction writers, outlines can be anything from a beginning to end written summary, to a scene list, to a detailed timeline. My post How to Outline a Plot has some different things you can try. Ultimately, there's no right or wrong way to outline your story. Anything that works as a "road map" to guide you through your story can help.

2 - Pants When You've Got to Pants - Some writers are "pantsers" or in other words, they prefer not to go off an outline. Some don't even plan in advance. They "write by the seat of their pants" and let the story take them where it may. For some writers, it depends on the specific story they're working on. Some stories might require planning, others might work better if you pants them. What works for me is understanding my needs (what type of story I'll usually need to plan/outline ahead of time, and what type of story I can pants) and then planning/pantsing accordingly. If I spent time outlining a story that I could easily pants, it would definitely take the wind out of my writing sails.

3 - Schedule Your Writing Time... Sort Of... - For me, I can't just rely on myself to write when the mood strikes me. If I did that, I'd never get any writing done. So for me, it's important to have a dedicated writing time each day. That doesn't even have to mean my butt's in the chair writing from this time to this time, it just means I'll do my best to write during whatever span of time. So, let's say this week you're home every day from 2pm until 6pm and some of that time is free time. That's going to be a good time to write, so you could say you're going to sit down every day at 3pm to write. Or, you could do 10-minute writing springs every hour, or every other hour. Or you could say you'll write when the mood strikes you, but definitely from 5:30 to 6 if you didn't get it done earlier.

4 - Try Random Writing Sprints - Writing sprints in general can be a good way for people with ADHD to write. You can schedule them or you could do them when the mood strikes. Get a timer and set it to whatever works for you... 5-minutes, 10-minutes, 30-minutes, whatever. Then just set it and go when you have time. Even if you don't feel like writing, getting into that habit will make it easier to write as soon as the timer comes out.

5 - Don't Give Yourself a Hard Time - One of the most profound things I ever heard about writing resistance is that it's often the product of writing feeling stressful. In other words, the idea of writing causes you stress, so your brain says, "Avoid! Avoid!" and you sit down to write and nothing happens. One of the ways we make writing stressful for ourselves is by giving ourselves a hard time when we don't write or don't write as much as we wanted. So, just do the best you can and congratulate yourself on small victories. Find ways to make writing fun and relaxing rather than stressful and like a chore.

Bonus - Sometimes the problem isn't ADHD but something else. My post 5 Reasons You Lost Interest in Your WIP, Plus Fixes! has some other things to consider.

I hope that helps!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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webslingingslasher · 11 months ago

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you did reader having a bad day and going to see frat!peter but can we get him having a bad day and going to see trouble?

*cleaning out my inbox.*

three loud knocks at your door had you jump from your seat, you were so in the zone that the sharp sound had you frozen for a second.

making the short walk and pulling it open, peter forced his way in and ripped his backpack off before slamming it down. there was no reason to ask if he was mad because he was pissed.

'hi.' you try being gentle, even softly closing the door before peter points at you. 'i was sick, wasn't i?' you blink fast, 'wha-'

'i was sick! last week, i was sick!'

you have no idea where he's taking this, but you're in for the ride. it's not you he's mad at and that's very clear, he's just trying to share his frustration. 'you were sick. you were throwing up.'

'thank you! i was! it was awful!'

you nod with him. 'yeah, throwing up sucks.'

'it does! and guess the fuck what, i missed a quiz and this stupid fucking prick of a professor won't let me retake it. he tried blaming me and said i needed to be more serious, trying to insinuate i was hungover when he knows for a fact i've shown up on my fucking deathbed before!'

you feel anger build for him, peter takes his academics very seriously. so if saying he doesn't take it seriously feels like a slap in the face to you, you can't imagine how it feels for him.

'oh, that's fucked, petey. if you want i'll draft a letter to the dean and we can-'

peter laughs and shakes a finger in the air. 'already did it. and guess what, i got to retake it. but he couldn't handle the fact i went over his head and he called me immature and unequipped to handle the real world.'

you gasp, peter nods with exaggeration. 'yup! so fuck that class, fuck that prick, fuck the guy that got cheese on my shoes-' your eyes look at his nikes, true to his words there's splatters of orange on the tops. "- fuck ethan for getting me sick, fuck everything and everyone!'

a gulp of air, he calms himself down. 'except you. i still like you.' the room goes quiet when he sits on the edge of your bed. it's just one of those days where nothing you say will fix it and he just needs to feel sorry for himself and have someone do it with him.

you stand in front of him and hold his head to your torso. peter buries his face in your shirt and breathes deep, you're worried he might be suffocating himself. you take his snapback off and lightly scratch his scalp.

'i'm sorry everything and everyone sucks, petey.' you can feel a rumble when peter talks but you can't hear him at all. 'what's that, mumbles?' he has a slight blush when he pulls back, 'except you.' he hides his face again, holding you even closer.

'wanna look at me?' a thrash into your stomach, he's anchored around your waist. 'please?' another silent no. 'i wanna tell you something.'

a squeeze, he's listening. 'no, c'mon, look at me.' peter shouts into your shirt, it still comes out muffled. 'no. you just wanna see me all blushy and shy.'

you tickle behind the collar of his shirt, he jolts into your touch. 'just look at me, please?' a few deep breaths, he's not so pink cheeked anymore. you try to mimic peter when you're upset and cup his face, you get why he does it, he's so delicate under your touch.

'you are insanely smart, peter. i've seen the effort you've put into your work. remember one time i tried to see if i could help you finish but your math questions are like three miles long?' a small smile, your heart picks up. you're helping!

'and you're way more equipped than anyone i know, and you have the cleanest room in the house. oh, and you're a really good nephew.' there it is, that's what you were searching for. peter warmed under your touch, watching him transform into bashful had you soaring.

'not to mention how handsome you are. i mean, i totally get it, petey. cause you're my baby.' red, red, red. he turned red. peter dove for your chest, he can feel his heartbeat in his throat.

'you're being mean when i'm sad.' you pat his head before tangling your fingers in, 'i just wanted you to know that your professor sucks and is the dumbest person to ever talk to you. he's wrong and today sucked and that's all it should be.'

you bend to press a kiss to the crown of his head. 'wanna lay down for cuddles,' you wait until he shuffles away, 'my beautiful, handsome baby boy?'

another flush, you never noticed how good peter looked in red.

#frat!peter blurbs

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flagellant · 2 years ago

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Why can't you people be normal about slurs for 2 seconds

Just because YOU reclaimed and identify with something doesn't mean everyone else does. No one cares about you IDing as a queer or dyke or fag or whatever, people just don't want strangers to randomly assign them words that have historically been used as slurs.

Like, do you understand that people have had this word used against them by bigots? Do you understand that maybe, it's tasteless to get upset at people for having trauma regarding a word? Are you able to comprehend that maybe insisting people be okay with being called a word that means odd, spoiled, ruined or weird is not a good look?

I'm autistic and have a severe learning disability. I'm totally fine when people use the word retard, I call myself a retard, I don't care. But I'm sure as fuck not going to walk up to a bunch of other autistic people I barely know and go "lmao what is up my fellow tards!!!"

I'm not trying to start shit, I'm legitimately trying to understand why you find it appropriate to make fun of people, often victims of abuse or hate crimes, for being triggered by a word.

"I'm legitimately trying to understand why you find it appropriate to make fun of people, often victims of abuse or hate crimes, for being triggered by a word."

Gay is a slur. Lesbian is a slur. Homosexual is a slur. Every single word we have ever had has always either had its roots in cruelty and oppression or has been used against us by our oppressors. There is no term that is pure and clean and innocent and has never hurt anyone's feelings.

Let's disregard fag for now. That one's still in the process of reclamation, I'll admit. Let's just talk about queer. Queer has been the academic term for non-cisgender and non-heterosexual history for half a century now. Queer theory has been around for thirty years. Queer was the word which we shouted as a radical inditement of our treatment by our oppressors: "We're here, we're queer, get over it" and "Not gay as in happy but queer as in fuck you" should both sound familiar to you.

And now it's 2012 or so and queer is known as the most inclusive term we have. It's less unwieldy than LGBTQIAAP+. It's not based in a necessity of defining yourself through your oppression like MOGAI. It's, important, a deeply private word. Not in the sense that it is used privately, but rather than it grants its user privacy. If you're queer, everyone instantly knows you're a part of the community, but you aren't being forced to out yourself or give more details about your personal life and identity than you want. It was always a word about identity.

TERFs hate this. TERFs hate this so much, because it's inclusive of people they hate, like asexual people, trans women, and other freaks of nature who society needs to put down like dogs. Queer means TERFs can't as easily define you as the Bad Other. Queer means TERFs will be recognized more easily as bigoted towards the larger queer communities. So, obviously, they do what anyone would, and decide to take advantage of the language of social justice warriors of the time and attack impressionable young kids from 13-16.

The average 13-16 year old doesn't exactly have much experience in real-life queer spaces. They don't get to go to rallies or protests, they don't stay at community centers, their lives are insular and based entirely online. Their understanding of social politics is inherently rooted in the importance of posting in the right language. Their activism is one which tweets correctly. So TERFs slid into their inboxes and went "Hey, just so you know, queer is actually a slur used to oppress people and it's problematic to use since some people have been called it".

And this works, because of course it does, and now I have people like you in my inbox bitching and whining about how queer is a slur and how you've been called queer once or twice in your life. To this I say: My apologies, but fucking suck it up and reclaim it. I don't care about traumatic events you have with queer. It has been reclaimed by the greater community and was done so long before you were born if you aren't literally 50, and more importantly, by giving queer validation as a slur, you actively give our oppressors that power over you. I'm not going to let my oppressors know that if they say an identifier for us meanly enough then we'll stop identifying as that word. I'm not giving the power to silence and repress who we are to people who would use it.

Anon, I respect you enough to say that people who consider my identity as a slur should get punched in the face, because alt-right fash cunts, pig cops, evangelical christians, TERFs, and hyperconservative political lobbyists all consider my identity as a slur. Why should I treat you any different to them? What about your specific treatment of queer as a slur ends up with a meaningfully different result? The neonazis on kiwifarms won't care why you're telling me to shut the fuck up about queer. They don't give a shit about why you're saying this. What they give a shit about is if it works and if calling people queer will get them to shut up and curl up in a little ball and admit defeat and hand them slurs on a silver platter. And I'm not about to live that sort of life, so either get with the program or fuck off.

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aurae-rori · 6 months ago

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children of the city ; a dr. ratio analysis

Dedicated to all the people in my inbox going, "WHAT IS A CHILDREN OF THE CITY AND WHY IS IT DR. RATIOCORE?!" I will now be pointing all of you to this post, because it's easier to access and find.

If you are finding this out in the wild, greetings. I am Aurae, one of the many Dr. Ratio Analyzers (shoutout to my other homies who are doing the work of the aeons and clearing the misinfo and slander to my boy's name). I am here to tell you why the song "Children of the City" by Mili is Dr. Ratiocore.

It's time to deconstruct my boy like the puppets that you see on tv, who find comfort in the strings. (if you know, you know.)

"Sleep for a total of 800 hours per day And then drink a liter of milk Warm-up before you go play Only eat, or write Or pull the trigger with your right hand Only thing that's left Is to work on following commands"

I'm totally not projecting my gifted child trauma here, nuh uh... Anyway, my personal HC for Ratio is that his child might have felt monotonous being in classes that he was already too "intelligent" for. Learning things at a quicker pace than other children, absorbing knowledge up like a sponge - sure, the praise is nice, but after awhile, especially when you get to higher levels, intelligence isn't enough to carry you. You have to put diligence, effort, blood sweat and tears into what you're studying for, especially if you want to make a change, like how Dr. Ratio wanted to. It. must have gotten lonely, getting up only to do more researcher, eating only to go back to work. Following a schedule is wonderful, and he would have enjoyed the routine, but after being isolated from other people along with that, it might have made him feel subhuman or less than human for only being there for the studying of more knowledge. Eat, study, work, repeat. This is more of a personal HC rather than something canon, though. :)

"By the time you realize You'll be restrained to a desk And with your dreams on the floor, you comply Eyes chained to the test In 30 minutes, find a groom or bride Bonus if brunette In 90 hours, spill their insides Paint your room picturesque"

I feel like the prospect of romance is pushed onto children at a very young age - and that can be applied to Dr. Ratio. Who knows what romantic beliefs that he grew with? However, I believe this is less of him observing himself, but more of him seeing what the education system does to others, and how society molds others into the person that they "should" be, rather than what they want to be. Also, it could be a reference to academic trauma and placing all your self worth in your grades.

"Now it's time for another vendetta Going through the shelves Picking out my pre-written persona (ha-ah-ah) Children of the city sees only the neon stars Reflected upon the murky gutter sky Don't ask me why I desperately wish to be included in the city's night"

This is how I see Dr. Ratio holding a grudge against the Aeons and other figures of authority. We are all expected to be "good" and "well-behaved", and yet, we all look to the "city's night" - the approval of those who are in a higher position of us. We want to gain the approval and the praise of our parents, of our teachers - it's natural, after. We want to be included in the "city's night" - in Dr. Ratio's case, the gaze of Nous. He wants to be acknowledged by Nous and let into the Genius Society because his beliefs that were instilled into him as a child dictate that since he is hailed as a genius, he should be seen as one by the Aeons, right? However, I'd like to point out the usage of the words "neon stars" - stars are not neon. This implies that the stars are fake - I can also see this as a pointer to the idea of there system itself being fake, or societal "norms" being fake, as we are all unique.

"In four hundred thousand meters, turn right

Pick up a knife and stab a familiar warm body Learned to fight before I knew love or bitterness of coffee Snippy scissors cut down the strings I set myself free Only to figure out everything I chose was by proxy"

Dr. Ratio following orders until he doesn't. Fitting in until he gives up on it. Setting himself free from the chains of what is expected from him of other people, but not by the Aeons - no, that's something that still stays with him. However, I like to interpret the idea of a "familiar warm body" being his own childhood - killing the child that you used to be in favour of facing the future. Coffee is also something commonly regarded as students or workers using it to keep awake during long periods of work and study - it talks about how he has known to fight for himself, or fight for what he wants, before he was told to suck it up and just work for the sake of others, for the sake of the authority. However, this might feel scripted to him as well, with the mention of a "proxy" - it was a decision someone else made for him, maybe? Who knows? Maybe his selflessness was originally chosen by someone else, and drilled into him?

"As we suckled upon the nine millimeter pacifier Swallowing the fact that other than to expand We had no purpose As my ever-burning will to stay afloat backfires I now know I must be comfortable being Who I considered worthless"

This is definitely expanding on the idea of being raised to just be used by the authorities. Also, this can also be a representation of the way that he calls himself "mundane" - he was called a genius and raised as one, and now that Nous has not seen him, he must be "mundane" and he must come to terms that he is exactly what he wasn't called growing up. None of their words of praise have any meaning any more, because in the all seeing gaze of an Aeon, he is nothing.

"Follow the city's ribbon To a heart nobody seems to listen It takes my heart being broken and broken again (broken and broken again) To know that I am the reason why (the reason why) The sufferings never end"

As Dr. Ratio uncovers the truth of his childhood and the truth of why he was raised this way, the empathy that he has suppressed comes back up. And this is it - because he feels for others, because he is so incredibly human, that is the reason why his suffering does not end. He cannot detach himself like other people, like other geniuses, and treat life with little to no care. He cannot, because he loves, and that is his fatal flaw. He listens to his heart, as well as his mind, and that does not make him a genius in the eyes of an Aeon.

"Do not go home until you finish reading the value of E. 2.71 8281 8284 5904 5235 3602 8747 1352 6624 9775 7247 0936 9995 9574 9669 6762"

"E" is a mathematical constant, and therefore is logical. It's called the base of a natural logarithm, and while my knowledge in that area is limited, the fact that it is called a "constant" means that it cannot change, just like all numbers cannot. It might be a representation of the idea of Dr. Ratio trying again to fit in with others, only to fail once more, even though he knows all the rules. He was simply born in a different way, doomed from the start. It wasn't his fault.

He was just human.

You can also see this as Dr. Ratio observing the world as he grows up in an "apathetic" and "detached" way - as he pushes down his own emotions in favour of staring at his own success to help others, knowing that his empathy will not get him anywhere in terms of a cruel world. However, he cannot help it.

Ultimately, "Children of the City" is about how we are raised in a society that forces the idea of work on us ever since we are young. We do not get to cherish our childhoods nor our youth, and are immediately turned to the prospect of how we can provide value to society. We are raised in a never ending cycle like machines, to be puppets to corporations, to be slaves by the desire of the majority, to never have free will of our own.

#hsr #dr ratio #honkai star rail #veritas ratio #drratio #aurae rambles #dr ratio analysis #character analysis #song analysis #media analysis #analysis #character study #children of the city #mili #hsr dr ratio #dr ratio hsr #lyric analysis

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b0r3dtod3ath · 1 year ago

Note

hi could i please make a request? i did poorly on my last exam and need some cheering up from oscar :(

Hi anon, thank you for the request but more importantly: I'm sorry about your test. Feel free to dm me if you want to talk. Also, just a reminder for everyone: if you want to be added to my anon list just send me a message in inbox containing your nickname or an emoji and your pronouns. (Also omg this photo of Oscar- girl, I'm speachless)

My F1 masterlist

Warnings: Reader being stressed due to school, hint of basing your self-worth on grades, mention of food and eating.

Word count: 514

You exited the building as fast as possible wanting nothing but to finally meet your boyfriend. You two were to go out after your classes - have a little lunch and then maybe go to one of your places and watch a movie. As soon as he spotted you he knew something was off. He couldn't pinpoint specific details - maybe it was your posture that appeared a bit smaller, maybe it was the anxious look in your eyes or the way your face frowned a bit. He just instantly knew something was not right. "Hi honey" he slowly whispered in your hair as you greeted each other with a tight hug. You felt so fragile and stupid but his arms wrapped around you gave you a hint of comfort. "You want to scratch the lunch and just take takeout to my place?" he asked as he tucked your hair behind your ear. You just nodded and gave him a small smile.

"So you remember the test that I sat last week?" of course he remembered. He was away but anytime he would Facetime you, your mind went somewhere else. At first, he was a bit bothered about it but quickly understood your mind was occupied with your studies. He never really pursued academics but tried to help you as much as he could - he asked you to simply explain certain terminology (so you would understand things better) or every time you had study sessions he would text you at the top of the hour to remind you to take a break. "So, yeah… I just didn't do well. I don't know what happened… I mean, it just happened" you said as you gazed at your shoes. He noticed your sudden shyness and grabbed your hand "Oh love, I'm sorry you're stressed lately. Let me take care of you. When we come home you take a nice shower and I will organise everything else". As your eyes finally met he planted a kiss on your hand. You did like he said. The hot shower provided a comforting feeling of a cleanse even on the mental side. Oscar's house always gave you a whole lot of comfort. Cotton bedsheets, soft towels, warm lighting and your boyfriend's presence made you ten times calmer. You stepped into the kitchen wearing your PJs - you always had a set at Oscar's. He stood in the kitchen, unpacking the food that had just been delivered. His soft curls lightly bounced as he was moving. He hummed a song that had been stuck in his mind - it was a Lana Del Rey song but he never admits he listens to her songs. You wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head on his back which caused him to smile.

The rest of the evening was filled with cuddles and low-volume sit-coms. You two were on the couch, two soft blankets covering your bodies, your head rested on his chest as the sound of his heartbeat and his hand stroking your back caused you to fall asleep.

29.09.23

#writers on tumblr #fan fic writing #x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader

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1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt · 2 years ago

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I woke up this morning and saw I had a message in my inbox on AO3, presumably about by new fic, and was excited to see the feedback.

When I read what they wrote it was a small comment that said "stop using sudowrite".

Had no idea what that even means, so I had to look it up and found out it's some form of a writing AI.

Absolutely fuming.

I want to make something abundantly clear right now:

I have not been hand writing and editing all of my own stories, hundreds of pages worth of personally hand written or hand typed content for the past 16 years, only to get accused of using any form of lazy ass writing AI now.

This is what I love to do. For fun.

I put in a lot of unpaid time, creativity and energy into my writing and editing. The only thing I ask for in return is participation from the fandoms I love, be it via thoughtful feedback or valid criticisms.

But this is neither of those things. This is just an outright, baseless lie against the art that I have worked so hard to make myself, and I won't be undermined or discredited.

There's anger, and then there's whatever space I am occupying well past it right now.

It's infuriating to pour hours of my love, thought and creativity into original content only to have someone come out of nowhere and try to tell me I've been having an AI do it, especially 16 years deep.

Bitch please.

I also found out that app came out in 2020 . . . As I mentioned, I published my first K/S story in 2008 as Ruby JW on the K/S archives, and my first fanfic on fanfic.net was published in 2007 as luigi_is_stellar.

I invite anyone to peruse my decades-long collection of independent content that I have single-handedly accomplished well before such an app even existed, then come back to me and try to tell me that what I do here isn't authentic.

I don't usually get spicy, but when it comes to the art I spend hours writing and drawing independently with my own blood sweat and tears, yeah. I'm going to get spicy.

I do far too much unpaid work out of passion and love for this fandom to have such a serious accusation flung my way out of nowhere.

It's the first time in my 16 years of writing for this fandom that I've ever been accused of plagiarism, and you best trust and believe that I don't take that accusation lightly. I work too damn hard to let someone discredit the work I do personally in such a baseless manner.

Anyway, that was discouraging AF. I am boggled to learn that AI writing is even a thing, no less someone coming out of the woodwork to try to accuse me of using it 16 years into story publishing when I literally teach academic honesty and writing ethics in my line of paid work as an English professional.

Genuinely: Do you know who you're talking to?

A bit of background on me:

I come from a not-so-wealthy family who could not afford to pay to put me through school -- I paid for that all on my own. I had to earn my University English degree, one of four University degrees I hold on my own work and pay alone, without so much as a tutoring session or handout from home.

Not once would I have jeopardized everything I worked so hard and paid for out of my own pocket as a poor ass uni student working two jobs and doing night classes just to phone it in plagiarizing, not on one ounce of my work.

That was all me.

I've handwritten 3 MLA essays in under three hour exams BACK TO BACK, immediately followed by back-to-back Biology exams & a final lab where I ALSO had to write multiple essays and switch from MLA to APA mode within the span of 6 hours.

Those were all bound in handwritten yellow booklets well before we ever had Google Docs, Grammarly, formatting suggestions, or even regularly brought/had access to laptops in UNI. I did my work by hand.

I earned my degrees in English and Biology AT THE SAME TIME before I even turned 24. I earned a double major handwriting my own work papers like my life depended on it, and you actually think I'm about to phone it in now?

Step to me like that again, young blood. I ain't the one.😂

Anyway, I digress.

Ya girl ain't here to fight BC y'all know I tend to be very easygoing, full of humour, and I love to joke around in the fandom. I'm pretty wide open to opposing opinions or even criticisms. But this is unfounded slander, and I won't be taking that on the chin.

When it comes to my work, I take that very seriously, and I don't play around. My late father once told me that "The work you do and the degrees you earn are yours and yours alone, they can never take that education from you." I live by that sentiment, and have done so by putting forth honest work.

Be it paid or unpaid work, it's my work. Periodt.

It is an unfathomably disheartening and insulting message to receive as someone who writes all their own stuff themselves, draws all their own fanart themselves, does their own photo edits themselves, edits their writing themselves, and has never even used so much as a single outside beta reader/editor for my work. Not once. The art, the writing, the editing -- It's all me.

Bottom line:

Say you do or don't like my work, that's cash money and we good, whether it's your cup of tea or not.

Butt know that it is my work.

I will not put all of this free time, effort and love into my work only to be accused of lazily ripping the content that I have spent hours writing and personally editing from somewhere else.

And on that note, consider my PSA rant ended.

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vilefiction · 11 months ago

Text

› featuring: Camboy!College Student!Satoru Gojo + Fem!Reader

› word count: 9,052 words

› synopsis: Satoru Gojo is the star student of your college. He's handsome, athletic, and everyone around can't seem to get enough of him. You, however, completely despised him. He wasn't just your academic rival, but your least favorite person.

During a meeting for student council, you listen carefully to what Satoru has to say. Then and only then did it click: his voice, those eyes, the way the corner of his lips curl… he is the camboy you watch in your free time! When you get a notification on your phone for a bidding livestream, you're intrigued. It was an auction hosted by none other than ch0sen0ne. The prize? A private cam date with him, orgasm included.

› rating: nsfw, +18

› cw: vulgar language, mutual masturbation on camera, rivals who fuck, dominant!gojo, face slapping, oral sex (f), facefucking (m), submissive!reader, degradation (whore, slut, being called a toy), calling satoru sir, pet names (sweetheart), slight praise (good girl), public sex in a library, creampie, somewhat rough sex

› setting: college au (no curses or jujutsu sorcery)

⤷ paw's note: hiii! this is my first fic i've written in a while! i'm so excited to publish this and i really hope you all enjoy it. i originally wrote this on a different blog and for a different character but wanted to make a comeback with this one. i had a lot of fun writing it so i hope you all enjoy it just as much. anyways, this isn't proofread so if there's mistakes, pls ignore them. love u byeee xoxo

It was a familiar feeling for you. The feeling of getting off to his voice, to the way his lips curl into a blissful smirk whenever he touched himself on camera. He was your favorite cam boy to watch after a stressful day of college classes.

You let out a deep and shaky breath, reaching for the small towel beside your bed to wipe your hand of the juices that covered your fingers. Your heart was still racing from your orgasm and your breathing was slowly but surely returning to a normal pace. Your brain was foggy from the quick orgasm, but despite the short time it still felt like one of the best ones so far. Of course, you said that every time you watched his show and came to him.

“I hope you all enjoyed my show. I’ll be doing another livestream in a few days so make sure to turn my notifications on. Thank you for tuning in and have a splendid night.” His sultry and noticeably softer voice made you turn your head towards your computer screen, admiring how pretty his pink lips looked in the camera. Even though you could only see from his nose down, you knew that he was handsome. There was no doubt about it. No number of masks and camera angles could hide how attractive he was. It was no surprise that he had so many viewers watching him get off using various toys and methods. Not only that, but people paying for these toys, and for him to touch himself how they wanted him to. You wished you had more money to spare, to see him get off in a way that you desired. Unfortunately, being a college student didn’t give you the ability to spend your extra income on some popular camboy.

To say you were sexually frustrated was an understatement. You never thought you’d get to a point in your life where you would have notifications for a camboy set so that you wouldn’t miss his show. You shook your head and laid down, opening your emails to see if any of your professors had sent anything important out.

Just as you had thought, a new email was sitting at the top of your inbox. You rolled your eyes, closing them and laying your head back further into the pillow. School wasn’t difficult for you, more so tiring than anything else. You couldn’t wait for it to be over, and as a senior, you were so excited to graduate with a degree in the spring and start your life.

Your fingers glided across your screen and opened the email titled ‘School Government Meeting’. It was nothing more than a reminder of the meeting for tomorrow. You groaned, rubbing your eyes with one hand before realizing it was the hand you got off with and quickly removing it. What would the student body have to say if they knew their future class president was getting off to a camboy, you wondered. That thought alone made your face grimace into a snarl.

You set your alarms for the morning and plugged your phone in before turning the bedside lamp off and snuggling into bed with your stuffed animal. Your brain created thoughts of the camboy and what he looked like. You’ve only seen his beautiful blue eyes and plump lips, amongst other explicit body parts. You could feel the blush creep onto your face as you slowly fell asleep, wondering what his hands would feel like in replacement of your own instead.

The morning of the school meeting came sooner than you would have liked. It was prior to all of your classes, which eased the anxiety that you would’ve had if it had been at the end of the day.

Getting out of bed, you decided to look somewhat professional today. Instead of the usual tee-shirt and sweatpants combo, you went for something more work casual: a pair of black bellbottom slacks and a white button up with your favorite light wash jean jacket. You topped the outfit off with your signature white converse and headed out the door, leaving early to get breakfast from the school cafeteria.

It was a nice day outside. The sun was shining enough to warm you while the cool wind was blowing. You smiled to yourself, putting in some headphones while you walked to the student center where the cafeteria was located. Your head nodded to the beat of the songs on your playlist. while lost in the music, you realized one thing: you left your bag at the dorm. All the blood rushed from your face and turned you pale. Part of you wanted to run back and get it, while the other part of you knew that you’d be late for the school council meeting. You groaned to yourself, rubbing your eyes and carrying on with your walk. You decided it was best to be late for your first class rather than the meeting. In the process, you also realized that meant you didn’t have your wallet either. Skipping breakfast was the only option now.

As you arrived at the student center, you headed straight to the library where the meeting was going to be held. You were about twenty minutes early due to not getting breakfast, which was fine with you. You went inside and decided to peer around the bookshelves to see if there was anything interesting.

While looking through the books in the medical sciences section, one in particular caught your eye. You lifted it off of the shelf and examined the cover that read ‘Anatomy of the Human Body for Dummies. The title made you have to stifle a laugh. You’d hoped to yourself that anyone who was reading this wasn’t a pre-med major. You took your headphones out of your ears and put them back into their case before placing it into your jacket pocket.

As you looked through the contents of the book, a familiar voice brought you back to reality. It sounded very similar to someone you knew, but who? Your eyes left the pages to meet with the eyes of the one and only, Satoru Gojo. You did your best to not immediately roll your eyes after making contact with his, closing the book you had and holding it against your chest. “Can I help you?” You quizzed, attitude seeping through your words as a faux smile placed itself on your lips. It made him chuckle as he leaned himself against the bookshelf with his arms crossed. Anyone could tell that he was an arrogant prick by the way he carried himself. You couldn’t understand why so many teachers and students alike were enamored with him.

“I said, hi Y/N. Is it so wrong of me to greet one of my fellow classmates?” The rhetorical question made you want to roll your eyes again, but you didn’t. You knew it would only instigate him further. Satoru’s eyes moved from yours to the book in your hands. “Anatomy of the human body… for dummies? That’s a perfect book for the likes of you.”

Your eyes widened and you shoved the book back onto the shelf with a scoff. You didn’t have the time to deal with his snarky attitude at eight-thirty in the morning. As you walked away, you felt a hand grab at your arm. You quickly pulled it away and turned to face him, only to reveal that the gap between you both had closed in. You could feel Satoru’s breath on your face, and the scent of his light cologne was in the air. It was nearly repulsive. “Hey, hey. I didn’t mean it, sweetheart. You know I was jo-”

“Don’t call me that.” You cut him off before he could finish his sentence. His cocky smile turned to that of a feigned frown, a finger lifting to just below his eye being dragged down to simulate a tear falling. It took everything in you to not smack the look right off of his face. “What do you want anyways? Shouldn’t you be at volleyball practice or tutoring some girl who’s fawning over you?” You questioned in a sarcastic tone, turning towards the bookshelf to avoid looking at him any longer. Your fingers scanned over the bindings of the books; the indentions of the letters being grazed by your hand. “Or better yet,” You began with the same sarcasm exuding from each word. “Don’t you have some teachers to kiss ass to?” Your eyes lifted from the bookshelf to meet with his, a hand leaving the books to rest on your hip as you faced him this time. An eyebrow raised in question to further show how irritated you were with his presence. Satoru scoffed, holding a hand over his heart to seem hurt.

“Now why would I do that?” The white-haired man retorted back, seeming slightly annoyed with the rudeness you were giving him. “Y’know, I don’t really understand why you don’t like me.” That statement earned a small chuckle from you as you leaned more into the hand resting on your hip. Satoru crossed his arms, returning to the stance he had against the bookshelf earlier. “I don’t get it, honestly. I’m kind, athletic, intelligent… what is there not to like, Y/N?” He probed, using his fingers to count off each adjective as he spoke.

Satoru was somewhat right. He was a star student and the talk of the college. His grades were as perfect as they could be. He was extremely talented when it came to volleyball and helped his team win almost every game. Not to mention, Satoru was the opposite of unattractive, leaving half of the female population at school that knew of him to be head over heels. There wasn’t much to not like about him. Except one little thing.

“Your attitude.” You answered, honestly at that. It was nearly immediate. Satoru raised an eyebrow at your statement. You took a deep breath and then sighed. “Everything about you seems real, but it isn’t. You think you’re the king of the world and you’re not. I could go into detail and would love to express the multitude of ways I think you’re a phony, but I won’t waste my breath. Just know that you’re not who you make yourself out to be, and that’s what makes you so unlikeable.” A genuine look of confusion and concern was plastered across his face as you spoke. You shook your head and turned to leave the star student and the stressful conversation behind.

You checked your phone as you walked away and went to go sit at the table the email told you to meet at. With five minutes left, you decided to spend it looking through your Instagram feed. The door to the library opens and a few people in your year come in. You greet them with a smile and a little wave. “Hey!” You say to your classmate, Iori, who then sits next to you. She returns the smile as the rest gather around the table inside of the library. “You ready for the meeting?” You asked her. Your anxiety for the meeting about to happen continued to rise, but her presence alone begins to stifle it.

“Yeah, and no. I just really wanna get it over with so I can go to class and see Professor Shoko!” Iori leans toward you while dragging out the professor’s name. You rolled your eyes and giggled a bit before looking around. Your eyes landed on Satoru who was standing close to the table, yet again leaned up against a bookshelf as if it was his signature position. This time, however, he was reading a book off of the shelf next to him. As if he was reading your mind, his eyes slowly lifted from the pages to meet yours. A smirk danced across his lips as he made contact with your eyes, making you turn back to Iori who was now talking about what she had for breakfast.

Mr. Higuruma, the head instructor for the student council, came through the door of the library. A sigh of relief left your lungs as you could finally get Satoru Gojo out of your head by concentrating on the meeting.

The meeting went on as usual, until a familiar and annoying voice decided to speak up. “Uhm, sir. I thought I’d mention that I’m also here because I wanted to run for class president. I wasn’t able to attend the last meeting, unfortunately, so I hope that I can still apply.”

All the blood that was in your face had left at this point. You couldn’t believe it— actually, you could. This is exactly the kind of thing he would do. Satoru would have the nerve to come in and ruin everything you’d planned for. The voice of Mr. Higuruma brought you back down from the thoughts clouded in your head as you listened to what he had to say. “That is unfortunate, but considering today is the deadline you still have time to be put on the ballot. Lucky you.” Mr. Higuruma let out a slight chuckle as he wrote some things down on the clipboard in his hand.

Your stomach churned at the idea of having to run against someone that nearly the entire school and staff was head over heels for. You knew you had no chance and would have to pull strings if you even wanted to try your luck at becoming president of the graduating class after this. All of these thoughts were racing through your head at once and you started to feel light-headed, although it could be because of the lack of sustenance in your stomach as well.

“Splendid. Thank you, Mr. Higuruma.” Satoru responded happily.

But… that word. Splendid. Your mind couldn’t understand why that single word in his voice sounded so familiar, as if you’d heard it over and over again.

Until it hit you.

The flashbacks from every time you’d watched ch0sen0ne’s cam. Every single time he logged off, he would say ‘have a splendid night’. You wondered why Satoru’s voice in your ear earlier sounded all-too familiar and it hit you. But could he be…? No, he couldn’t be the same person. You rejected the idea completely and pushed it in the back of your head to be locked away.

Before you knew it, Iori nudging your ribs brought you back to reality. You came to the realization that you’d been staring at Satoru this entire time, who was returning the stare with a grin on his face. You shook your head, moving a strand of hair behind your ear before focusing back on the conversation at hand. “So, Mr. Gojo, what is your goal as president?” Mr. Higuruma asked with a plain yet curious tone of voice.

“Before I, hopefully, become president, I want to raise funds for a senior activity of some kind. I think it would be nice to get all of my senior peers together for one last outing before finals, y’know? I know that it would definitely help relieve the stress off of some of the students, me included.” Satoru answered with a smile, glancing at you ever so often. It made you want to puke. Satoru continued to go on about his goals, but your mind was doing its best to completely dissociate from the meeting at hand.

After zoning out for most of the meeting, trying to retain some of your sanity, you finally managed to get through it. “See ya later, Y/N! Try not to worry too much. You’re going to be a great prez.” Iori reassured with a smile, waving you off. You smiled back halfheartedly and headed to your first class of the day with a pain in your head and a pain in your ass.

You finally made it back to your dorm and immediately flopped onto your bed, face down into the pillow. A pillow-muffled groan left your mouth as you recalled the events of today. You really couldn’t believe the audacity of Satoru Gojo, and you really couldn’t get his voice out of your head. No, not his voice: the camboy, ch0sen0ne’s voice. You rolled over onto your back, chucking your shoes onto the floor by pulling them at the heel. A ding from your phone distracted you, with that set tone being the indicator it was from your favorite camboy. You didn’t even want to think about him. He was the one thing that brought you some sort of happiness and relaxation on your worst days, and it was ruined by the one and only Satoru. You grimaced before picking up your phone and reading the notification.

ch0sen0ne: “Hello, my lovely watchers. I will be holding an auction to raise funds for something very dear to me. The prize? A private cam session with me, orgasm included. Tune in tomorrow night to join in on the bidding, or to simply watch me come undone. Have a splendid night.”

You groaned in annoyance and let out a deep breath that you didn’t even realize you were holding in. Everything that was happening is all too coincidental for Satoru to not be the camboy. but there’s no way, right?

You shook your head and slid your lock screen to the side, checking the numbers in your bank account before deciding that you’re going to win that auction once and for all. There was no peace in your mind until you could confirm whether or not Satoru was behind the mask that you’d gotten off to countless times.

“Hello, my lovely watchers. It’s so good to be back.” The camboy’s voice rang through the speakers of your headphones as you watched him contently. He had a mask on as usual, and his shirt was nowhere to be seen. You admired his smile, amongst other things, as you listened to what he had to say. “Now, before we start, I wanted to lay out some rules. You can bid in $10 increments at minimum. The second rule is that to buy out all the bidders, you must autobuy. That means you will be paying $1500 to win the private cam session with me. Got it?” His signature smirk was plastered on his face, and you couldn’t help but notice how uncannily similar it was to Satoru’s grin. The soft smile resting on your lips slowly faded at the thought. “Let’s begin!”

It took twenty-five turns of bidding while the camboy did suggestive things before you placed the bet of $500. You thought no one would outbid you, after the last bid being $250. You bit your nails anxiously, watching the screen intently. “Wow! $500 from…” The camboy leaned in with a squint, reading out your username. “Ch0sen0nesGF? That’s adorable.” He smiled contently, showing all of his beautiful pearly whites. Your heart raced as he said your screen name out loud. You never thought he’d notice you, and although it was because of your bid, you still felt a rush of suspense and excitement run through you.

Eleven bids later and the current bid sitting at $820, you finally decide to say fuck it. “God damn it. My bank account is gonna start crying.” You say after placing your final bid with an exhale, closing your eyes and leaning your head into your hands. It was the autobuy. You knew you shouldn’t have, but your need for knowing whether or not your favorite camboy was Satoru led you to this unfortunate financial decision. It was a win/win in your head. On one hand, if he is in fact Satoru Gojo, you’re right and can potentially use it against him during class elections. If it’s not, you get a private session with the one and only camboy of your dreams. It wasn’t the most financially stable decision, but you had to do what you felt obligated to do. The camboy raised a brow in the middle of gripping his semi-hard cock, almost giving you the impression that he was getting off to people bidding money on him. His eyes focused on the screen before widening and letting out a breathy laugh.

“An autobuy from none other than Ch0sen0nesGF! Wow, thank you so much. I-I honestly can’t believe it!” The video star’s voice was full of genuine surprise. “I guess there you have it. I’ll send you an invite request shortly. As for everyone else, I’ll be doing another livestream later this week to take donations. I hope you all enjoyed, and have a splendid night.” With that, he was gone.

Part of you felt relieved that you didn’t have to wait any longer. The other part? You could die on the spot. Your heart was racing and your palms sweaty at the idea of meeting your admired camboy. Although it wasn’t in person, the idea was still extremely anxiety inducing. A fwhip ding from your laptop distracted you from the nerve-wracking thoughts in your mind. It was an invite request from the one and only camboy. Your mouth felt suddenly dry as you slid your fingers across your mousepad to accept. A few seconds later, a video call notification popped up on your screen from him. “Fuck.” You whispered under your breath. “I can do this, I can do it. It’s fine.” You muttered, fixing your hair as if that would make a difference. You answered the call with your video camera still turned off.

The camboy’s face was plastered across your screen, a soft smile playing across his lips. “Hello, sweetheart.” He greeted, leaning back to show off his toned torso. Muffled R&B music played in the background of his video call, seemingly setting the mood. “Now, as I said, you get this video call with me. However, it would make it much more interesting if I also got to see your face, considering I’m showing mine for the first time.” He leaned forward, mask still covering half of his face. His sky-colored eyes were sheltered by long, white lashes, making them look more sultry. “So, how about it?” The camboy quizzed and lifted his fingers to the edge of his mask as if he were to lift it at any moment.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. “Okay.” You replied softly, reaching for the mousepad with your index finger and turning on your camera. You stared at him as your face popped up in the corner of the screen, slightly messy hair framing your face. You bit your lip out of anxiety, slightly hoping that this was a dream. The cam boy paused, mouth open slightly as if he was examining your face. His eyes darted around, intently staring at the screen before smiling.

“This does, in fact, make things much more interesting.” His slender fingers delicately hovering over the edges of the mask finally grasped it and pulled it off. Your heart nearly went into cardiac arrest. All of your suspicions were proven at this moment as his face was uncovered.

Satoru sat there with his signature cocky grin, staring at you attentively through the screen. It felt like you were nearly naked with how embarrassment seemed to flood your entire body. “Are you going to say anything, Y/N? Or are you just going to stare at me with your mouth open as if you want something inside of it?” His attitude was repulsive, but you couldn’t help but think back to how many times he’d gotten you off without even touching you. His voice, his eyes, the way he stroked himself… all of those things led to your own orgasm countless times. You clenched your jaw, pushing those thoughts aside for the time being.

“I knew it was you, I just needed to prove it.” Your voice was shaky and your breathing continued to become more unsteady as your anxiety began to rise.

“Okay, so you know it’s me. Now what?” Satoru questioned, raising a brow and seeming unfazed. “You gonna tell the whole school that I’m an exhibitionist? That I take pleasure in knowing people watch me to get off, hmm?” His words were teasing you in their own way, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed by his reaction.

“N-no…” All of your confidence went out the window. “I just wanted to prove it to myself.” Your answer was honest to an extent. You did want to use it against him, but now that you could, you somehow came to your senses and realized it would be unjust cruelty. The perfect Satoru Gojo, a camboy. It would be hard for some to believe, but you knew that somehow it would benefit him.

“Well, you paid all of this money. Why don’t we go ahead and get to it?” Satoru’s words brought you back from the thoughts in your own head, cocking his head to the side and letting his hand slowly glide to his lower torso. You stared keenly before looking back up at his face which was riddled with arrogance.

“Get.. get to what?” You asked curiously, breath hitching in the back of your throat as you felt yourself become more turned on with each movement of his long fingers on his torso. Although you truly despised him, he was still the camboy you admired dearly.

“You know exactly what I mean. Don’t play stupid, doll. You can still hate Satoru Gojo, but don’t try to deny that I get you off better than anyone else could without even laying a finger on you.” That statement from him earned a breathy and near-silent moan. You weren't even touching yourself and he’d already gotten you to the point of wanting to do explicit things to yourself while listening to his voice. “See? Now that’s a good girl.” Satoru praised you for the noise you made, his voice dripping with confidence.

“I-I can’t. You're… I-” The words you tried to muster up seemed to get stuck in the back of your throat with every sentence you tried to speak.

“And why not? You mean to tell me that you paid all of that money and are gonna let it go to waste, princess?” The nickname made you clench your jaw out of frustration, but not the bad kind. “You know you want to…” Your eyes watched his hands grip around his clothed cock, getting harder with every word. You stared at the spot on his grey sweatpants that began to get soaked with his precum. “Look at what you’re doing to me, Y/N.”

Not even divine intervention could’ve stopped you at this point. You placed your laptop towards the end of the bed and sat on your knees, unbuttoning your shirt that you’d worn to school earlier that day. You looked into the camera, heart racing and breath spiking with every button that was undone. Your fingertips lingered on the last button before pulling off your shirt to reveal your pretty white lace bra. Satoru bit his lip, his hand gripping his dick with more force. He moved up and down the clothed shaft slowly as if he was teasing himself. You could hear him stifle a moan as he watched you undress yourself.

“You’re so beautiful. I’m surprised you don’t show yourself off on camera like I do.” That comment earned a small, genuine chuckle as you were finally down to your bra and panties. Satoru slid his grey sweatpants off to reveal a tented bulge in his boxers. His hands stroked the member at a slow and steady pace, as if he went any faster that he’d combust. You let out a soft groan at the sight, feeling yourself become wetter by the second. “Lay down on your back. I want to see all of you.” Satoru ordered in a demanding yet needy tone of voice, becoming more flustered as the time passed along.

You listened to his words as if they were controlling you, positioning yourself on your back to where he could see everything from the side. Your eyes closed briefly before the nerves got to you. “Satoru, I-” You started before he quickly cut you off.

“I don’t want you to speak unless spoken to. The only things that should be coming out of your mouth besides moans are ‘yes, sir’, ‘no, sir’, and ‘thank you, sir’. Understood?” His words made you moan as your fingers lingered over your bra-covered breasts, touching yourself so lightly that it made you want more. You nodded, biting your lip and daring to look at the screen. Satoru was positioned to where you could see from his thighs to the top of his head. You took in the way his face stared intently at you with a lasting expression of lust. His toned torso moved in sync with his rapidly increasing breaths and his hands were teasing the tip of his cock through his tight boxers. Satoru raised a brow, expecting you to answer.

”Yes, sir.” You replied, nearly breathless from the teasing that felt like edging. You couldn’t believe the state you were in with not having done anything yet. This reply garnered a genuine and lecherous smile.

“That’s my girl. Now, take off your bra.” Your hands didn’t hesitate to reach around and unclasp the device, taking off the undergarment in one swift motion. You awaited his next command as the cool air from your room made your nipples perk up. Satoru licked his lips. His movements on his girthy member becoming more steady with each stroke. “I want you to touch your nipples, softly. Pinch them, tease them. Show me how you touch yourself when you watch me.”

You did your best to push the embarrassment of knowing that Satoru knew you had gotten off to him countless times. The tips of your fingers came up and flicked at your nipples, head leaning back into the bedsheets as you let out a soft gasp. You pinched them in between your fingertips, teasing them while replaying thoughts of him stroking his cock. “Satoru…” You let out in a breathless moan. It was a plead for more, and you knew he wasn’t going to give it to you just yet.

You other hand came up and gripped your neglected breast, squeezing it softly as you closed your eyes. Your pussy tingled with anticipation and your hips bucked up slightly at the feeling. You wanted more. You needed more. Your eyes fluttered opened and you turned your head to glance at him. Satoru was staring at you with lascivious eyes, almost as if they were imploring for more.

You slid your hands down, not caring that he only said to touch your nipples. Your thumbs grazed on the inside of your panties, glancing down at them for a moment before returning your eyes to him. Satoru’s teeth tugging on his bottom lip was confirmation enough, leading you to pull your underwear completely off. He followed suit, revealing his cock that was hidden behind his boxers. You’d seen it many times, but this one was different. It felt much more intimate knowing he, too, was watching you. His hands gripped the thick member, stroking it at a steady pace as he watched you unravel yourself for him.

“Fuck, I fucking need you.” Satoru’s vulgar words were enough for you to bring one hand to your breast and slide the other down to your pussy in hopes of relieving some tension. “That’s a good fucking girl. Keep going.” He ordered as moans began to leave your mouth over and over, eyes fluttering back and forth. You imagined that instead of your fingers, it was Satoru’s stroking your sensitive and swollen clit. You wished it was him teasing at your nipples with his tongue instead of your own hands. The thought alone pushed you closer to the edge.

“S-Satoru!” You breathlessly gasped, curling your fingers inside of yourself and watching him continue to speed up the movements on his cock. His hands were tightly curled around his member, stroking at a fast pace while watching you touch yourself. The moans leaving his mouth were heavenly, almost symphonic. Thoughts of what they’d sound like if he was inside of you flooded your mind, making you quicken the pace of your fingers.

“Keep going. F-fuck yourself faster. That’s my good fucking girl. Such a good toy for me.” Satoru‘a praise rang out through the speakers of your laptop, words coated in lust and longing. You obliged to his demands with a ‘yes, sir’, doing what he ordered as if you’d done it a million times.

You felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm. Your hips bucked over and over as you continued to fuck yourself with your fingers, watching him pant and continue to stroke himself. “Gonna cum for me?” Satoru asked in between melodious moans. You nodded intensely, unable to muster out any words while squeezing your eyes shut as your felt your orgasm bubbling. “Beg.” He ordered harshly, mouth opening as sweat rippled across his forehead.

“Please, Satoru! Please, sir!” You begged, curling your toes and bucking your hips vigorously. You turned your head and dared to open your eyes and watch him. “Please let me cum for you. Please, Satoru. I need to cum for you.” You pleaded as your release was closer than you could imagine. Satoru moaned deeply, speeding up his movements to match yours.

“Cum for me. Cum, you stupid fucking slut.” With his words, you felt your orgasm wash over and relieve you of any stress you’d built up. Your moans rang through his speakers as you reached your release. Looking over, you watched as he reached his orgasm, squirting his cum all over his toned torso. Satoru’s breathing was rapid and his eyes were closed. He brought a hand up and brushed his white hair out of his face, leaning his head onto the pillow behind him. “Fuck…” he said breathlessly.

“Y-yeah…” You agreed with a stifled chuckle, closing your eyes and leaning further into the mattress. The real world creeped in slowly, persisting you to grab a shirt from the floor and put it on to cover up. Satoru did the same, grabbing his boxers and putting them on to cover himself after cleaning his release from off of his stomach. “So.” You said awkwardly, brushing your now messy hair behind your ear and positioning yourself to sit and face the camera in a criss-cross position.

“So?” Satoru asked curiously, a sweet smile curling on his lips with the singular word. He rolled his eyes and scoffed at your extended silence. “Please don’t tell me you’re gonna make this awkward now.” You blushed, looking away and biting your lip out of anxiety.

“No, I just-” You began before shaking your head and looking down. You lifted your head shortly after to face him and begin again. “This never happened, okay?” The look of disappointment replaced his smile and he pursed his lips to the side. Satoru nodded in agreement, mumbling a defeated ‘yeah’ while shaking his head.

“As you wish, princess.” The sarcastic nickname made you genuinely laugh, causing him to sit for a moment and admire you. You took a moment before regaining yourself, admiring him as well. His eyes were so beautiful, something you loved about him before knowing it was actually him. Satoru’s lips were so perfectly designed for his face, as if God himself took the time to make sure he’d have a beautiful smile. You shrugged the thoughts off and decided to call it here.

“Bye, Satoru.” The words were not meant to sound sad, but it came out as if you were slightly heartbroken. You didn’t want the fun to end, but you knew it was for the best. Satoru wasn’t your friend, nor your acquaintance. He was the star student of your college, a semi-famous camboy, and your academic rival. Nothing about this would work. You sighed, content with knowing the answers you sought after in the first place.

“See ya later, Y/N.” Even Satoru’s voice sounded sad, but in the same way as yours of knowing what’s best for each of you.

It had been two weeks since your escapade with Satoru and you’d been avoiding him the entire time. Every time you caught a glimpse of him, whether it be in the cafeteria or the library, you immediately turned around to go the other way. He tried multiple times to give you a small wave but you ignored it, not being able to bear the thought of the things you two did together.

The memories flooded your mind as your physics book was laid out in front of you, notes scattered across the table in the back of the near-empty library. It was 7 pm on a Friday, meaning everyone was either out partying or doing their own thing in their dorms. You, however, had to study immensely for your upcoming midterms. The thought alone made you groan and shove your head in your hands. “Fuckin’ christ. I should just drop out.” You muttered dismissively, not wanting to study any longer.

“That’s not the attitude I’d expect from our future class president.” The words stung your ears as a familiar voice was deluged with them. You lifted your head slowly, eyes settling on Satoru who was watching you ever so intently. Your face flushed with a crimson blush after avoiding him for so long. He lifted his hand and did a small wave that you’d rejected many times before this meeting. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Satoru, I really don’t have time for this.” You stated in an annoyed and exhausted tone, beginning to close your books. He walked over slowly, grabbing at your wrist that was trying to put away the notes. Satoru closed the gap between you, leaning over and getting closer to your face. His blue eyes left yours for a moment to peer at your lips, only to look back up and smirk. You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding and pulled your wrist away. He released a chortle, sitting close to you on the table where your scattered notes lay.

“C’mon, you don’t wanna talk to me for even a moment?” Satoru questioned with a smile, shaking his head. “And after all we’ve been through…” He tsk-ed, putting a hand over his heart. The blush that had since faded returned, making you turn your head away from him in attempts to hide it. Satoru took the redness of your ears as an invitation and without further hesitation grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. “What do you say we do it right here, right now?” A devilish grin was stuck on his face as he leaned in closer to you, almost as if he were to kiss you. Your tongue left your mouth to lick your lips before he moved right past your face and went to your ear. The star student licked along the outskirts of your earlobes before breathily whispering. “I can feel how much you’re aching for me right now, princess. Tell me you want me to take you in this library for everyone to see.” A quiet moan slipped from your mouth as the grip on your chin shifted to your throat, squeezing ever so slightly to arise a reaction from you. “Don’t you wanna be a good girl for me, Y/N?”

That phrase alone made you wriggle in your seat with anticipation, causing his mouth to leave your ear and look at you. His hand left your throat and rested on either side of you, positioned on the chair you were sitting at. Satoru’s eyes darted from your own to your lips, as if questioning if you really wanted to do this. Your breathing was steadily increasing, as was your heart rate. Part of you wanted to say no, to leave immediately. But you were desperate for him. You needed him to devour you like an animal. Before you could say no, your body produced a nod for Satoru.

His hands left the chair and instantaneously connected with your jaw again, closing the space between you and engulfing your lips into a kiss. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, nudging it down as if begging him to put it around your throat. Satoru smiled into the kiss and did as you requested, gripping your neck just enough to cut off the blood flow and send a rush to your head once he let go. The bliss of his tongue entering your mouth and intertwining with your own made you moan against his mouth, scooting closer to the edge of the chair to be more near him. Satoru took this as a sign to further things and lifted your body off of the chair, still locked in the kiss. He swiftly moved you to the table. Pages of your notes fluttered across the floor with the sudden movement. You wrapped your legs around his hips, deeping the kiss by pulling his head closer. The feeling of his hardening cock behind his white joggers against your own sweatpants made a moan escape your vocal chords into his mouth. Satoru pulled away from the kiss and moved the chair you’d previously been sitting in to settle himself on his knees. You raised a brow, confused by his actions. “Satoru?”

A fiendish grin made its way onto his lips as he placed his thumbs through the waistband of your sweatpants and tugged them down along with your underwear. “I don’t want you to speak unless spoken to. The only things that should be coming out of your mouth besides moans are ‘yes, sir’, ‘no, sir’, and ‘thank you, sir’. Understood?” The familiar words made you lose your breath as you remembered the moments from a few weeks ago. You nodded hastily and let him continue. “Atta girl.” Satoru praised before kissing up your thighs, gripping them with a steady pressure on either side. His mouth found its way to your stomach by sliding your shirt up, lifting himself up ever so slightly to reach your nipples. He looked up at you with hungry eyes before immersing one of your sensitive buds into his mouth, sucking on them with no hesitation. His teeth bit them gingerly, continuing to suckle at them as he did so. Satoru moved to the other side and continued to do the same thing before moving on, lips interchanging between peppering kisses down your torso and fellating the skin there.

His movements continued until he was face to face with your pussy. A deep breath exhaling from him caused you to buck your hips, in search of some sort of contact. You bit your lip at the unconscious act of desperation that your body performed. You never expected to be so submissive in the presence of Satoru Gojo, yet here you were in all of your half naked glory. His eyes locked with yours before licking up the sides of your folds, tasting in the sweet juices that had trickled out. You leaned on one arm and used the other one to cover your mouth with your hand. Even though it was highly possible no one else was in the library, you couldn’t imagine getting caught in this position right now.

Satoru continued to explore you with his mouth, licking along everywhere except where you needed him most. “S-Satoru…” You whimpered. “Sir, please. I-” His eyes focused in on you, darkening as you continued to speak in stuttered breaths. “I need you, Satoru.” Those words were like a switch in his brain as he began to devour every piece of you his tongue could reach. You did your best to withhold the sounds of pleasure that dared to escape your mouth as he suckled at your extremely sensitive clit. Satoru’s tongue made its way up and down your folds before settling on your clit, nibbling it ever so slightly. The explicit noises he made ellicited a deep moan from you, causing him to groan into your pussy. Before you knew it, you were being filled by not one, but two, of Satoru’s slender fingers. A loud whine made its way out of your mouth. You gave up leaning on your arm and gave way to laying down fully on the table, squeezing your thighs around Satoru’s warm face. The continuous pressure against your sweet spot combined with the movements of his tongue had you seeing stars.

“Cum.” Satoru commanded out of nowhere, muffled by your wet cunt. You hadn’t realized the feeling of your orgasm creeping up on you before he’d said something. Not responding in a proper enough time frame from him, he got up and leaned over the table, fingers still working at your g-spot. “I said cum, you pathetic whore. Cum for me.” His large hand went over your mouth as he kept bullying your insides with his middle and ring finger. “Look at me.” Satoru demanded. The lecherous look on his face and his continuous movements led you to your orgasm, slick juices covering his hands as he slowed his pace down. Your erratic breathing elicited a smirk from him; the signature, cocky smirk that you’d seen plenty of times before. He removed the hand covering your mouth and replaced it with the fingers that were inside of you, which you gladly and hastily licked clean. “What a good fuckin’ girl. Now say ‘thank you, sir’.”

“Thank you, sir.” You replied breathlessly, still coming down from the high of having an orgasm by his hands.

Satoru leaned in and kissed you, his tongue slowly making its way to ravage your mouth and selfishly steal the taste of your juices from you. Suddenly, he pulled away with a familiar devilish grin. “Now, should I give you what you want, or should I fuck your face like you’re my own personal fleshlight?” The vulgar words made your face hot with embarrasment, but you didn’t care anymore. You just wanted him, in any way you could have him.

“Whichever you want. Anything for you, sir.” Yiu responded in a sultry tone, wanting nothing more than to please him at this moment. Satoru’s lips curved into a smile as he pulled you to the edge of the table, making you sit up.

“Knees. Now.” Those two words sent chills down your spine as you moved to listen to him. You looked up at him with puppy dog eyes, giving him an innocent facial expression even though he ate you out like he’d been starving for days. Satoru chuckled, pulling his sweatpants down enough for his cock to bounce out from the restraint of the clothing. “Look at you,” He began with a hand on your jawline, running his thumb across your chin and up to your lips. He pulled your bottom lip down with his fingertips, eliciting you to open your mouth. Satoru’s spare hand was stroking his member at a painfully slow pace, precum dripping onto the floor. You took his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and closing your eyes before opening them and making eye contact. “You’re such a pretty fucking toy, Y/N.” He took his thumb out of your mouth and continued to stroke your jawline, eyes never leaving yours. A grin took over his face before he pulled his hand back and landed a slap on your face, just enough to move your head but not enought to hurt you. “Open that slutty mouth of yours, yeah?”

You made an opening with your mouth for him, continuing to stare up into his pretty blue eyes. Satoru used his hand to move his member and hit it against your cheek, making a light slapping noise from the contact. He moved the tip to your lips, rubbing the dripping precum against them before slowly entering his dick inside of your mouth. He let out a deep groan as you continued to take him inside of your mouth, flattening your tongue as to rub it against the underside of his shaft. Satoru’s soft palms grasped at either side of your face, fingers tangling in the hair that he could reach. He started off slow, pulling his cock out to the tip and moving back in, doing the same again but only taking half out this time. You mustered up the confidence you could to not gag and pull off of him. Suddenly, he began to fuck your face fiercely. Satoru shoved all the way into your mouth with each thrust at a steady, quick pace. He was desperate to feel you around him, gripping your hair harder with each thrust and letting moans go with each time you’d gag or whimper around him. “S’fuckin good.” He praised while moving a hand to clench your hair into a ponytail. he used his free hand to lean on the table behind him while he thrusted into your mouth. The sounds coming from his mouth could’ve made the heaven’s cry by how lovely they were. You closed your eyes, focusing on breathing through your nose and whimpering with every harsher thrust Satoru delivered. The feeling of his cock riding in and out of your mouth so recklessly made you wish it was inside of you instead.

All too soon, he pulled his cock out of your mouth and grabbed you by your arms to place you on the table. “Need you.” Satoru stated frantically, kissing you feverishly in between sentences. His hand made its way to your folds, entering two fingers in suddenly and curling to hit your sensitive spot a few times before pulling them out almost as quickly as they were inside. He grabbed his long and girthy cock, positioning it in front of your pussy and sliding it along the slit. A breathy ‘fuck’ escaped his lips before he shoved it in without warning. You leaned on one arm, your free hand covering your mouth to prevent a scream from escaping as he pounded into you at full speed. You could tell he needed this just as much as you did.

Satoru thrusted into you over and over again, continuing to defile your insides with his cock. You bucked your hips in sync with him as his hands gripped your waist, pulling you onto him more with each thrust. You felt like you were drunk or high, as if you were in a haze. Your thoughts were incoherent as he started plowing in and out of your cunt, merciless by accident with how roughly he moved— not that you were complaining. Quite the opposite with how hard it was to keep quiet inside of this empty public library. Sounds of desperate moans and skin on skin filled the room. Satoru seemed determined to make you cream around his cock in a way that would make you completely forget everything but the image of him on top of you on this table. A deep moan slipped from your lips, making you arch your back as he hit the sweet spot inside of you. “Be quiet.” Satoru grunted, moving your hand from your mouth and letting it fall onto the table to support you. He replaced your own hand by shoving two fingers in your mouth. You happily obliged to this filling, sucking on his fingers and whimpering around them as he relentlessly thrusted.

Between incoherent pleads for more around his fingers and breathless moans, you felt your orgasm drawing closer with each time he entered you. A bubbly feeling was growing by the second, and your expressions of pleasure soon heightened in pitch. “S-sir… ‘m close!” The broken words escaped your mouth as soon as he removed his fingers from your mouth to return to your hips in hopes of somehow bringing himself deeper into you, although being already down to the hilt of his shaft. “That’s it, cum all over my cock.” Satoru’s fingers immediately went for your clit, fingertips circling the swollen and sensitive bud to send you over the edge.

Between the clenching of your walls closing around him from your high releasing and the thrusts continuing at full force, his orgasm followed suit. His beautiful, low moans filled your ears as he emptied his load inside of you, the thick liquid slowly coming out your hole and spilling onto the table as he continued to thrust slowly while he hit his high. Satoru stopped moving his hips eventually, leaning his chin to rest on your shoulder. You both were a panting mess and the library was extremely dark. He pulled out with a wince at how sensitive he was before pulling up his boxers and sweatpants. He helped you off the table, legs still shaking from the exchange. Yiu leaned into him, pulling your own sweatpants up and tightening them around your waist. You looked up into his eyes. They were nearly sparkling and still full of lust, but nevertheless beautiful. “Let me walk you to the dorms.” Satoru said, more of a statement than a question. You inhaled deeply and nodded, not having the energy to tell him you could go alone.

Satoru helped you pack your things into your bag before you both left the library, eyeing the one old lady sitting at the desk who seemed to be oblivious to everything happening around her. She had an old headset on and looked to be reading a very thick book. You both shook your head simultaneously, stifling laughs while heading out the front door towards the dorms.

After a few minutes walking in silence, you decided to speak up. “Y’know this doesn’t change anything, right?” You quizzed, looking straight ahead to avoid looking at his face. Satoru’s familiar chuckle flooded your ears as he nodded.

“I figured. You're very stubborn when it comes to me for some reason.” He joked, playfully pushing you to the side. You laughed in response and returned to your original position on the sidewalk next to him. “However,” He began, making your ears perk up. You looked over at Satoru who had a devilish grin. “You don’t always have to watch me on camera. You could join me, too…”

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