#can't do shit right now because exams so yeah :(

[tunamoth]

A cat and moth hybrid.

[charlie-ver]

the focus is so bad today that im just, making a fucking banana bread even if i know i won't allow myself to have a single crumb. i simply need to do something else that doesn't frustrate me and school sure fucking does right now, so I'm not doing my assignments.

[sneak-a-cat]

.

[sanguineterrain]

Feel like I’m so basic but Jason Todd with a crush and him having zero social skills and just being super clumsy despite being highly competent when he’s in the field. Crush is like real sweet and kind maybe a service worker ✨

anon u are so true and real for this bc jason is definitely an unsocialized cat when he has a crush 💓

jason todd x gn!reader. shyish/anxious jason with a big fat crush. baker reader. annoying customer. the duality of jason todd. 1.6k words.

also i fully believe that silently leaving huge tips as a way to flirt is like. a wayne trait. 100% that family does that bc of bruce.

prompt lists are here! i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

Business has been slow.

It's not like you expect your cafe to be packed to the rafters all day long, but you've had a grand total of four customers today. One of them only came in to ask where Starbucks was.

Frankly, you're not sure the cafe can afford to stay afloat for much longer. Gotham isn't known to preserve small businesses, and the conglomerates (cough, Wayne Enterprises) are taking over the world anyway.

So today is a reading day. You might even close early.

You're at a table in the back, so absorbed in Poirot's sleuthing that you don't hear the door open. It isn't until you turn the page and look up that you see your resident lurker waiting quietly at the display case. You flinch so hard that you spill iced tea on your jeans.

"Shit," you murmur, grabbing a wad of napkins and patting yourself dry.

Jason (as is written on his coffee cup) looks up from the pastries, teal eyes wide. You smile briefly at him. For such a big guy, his footsteps are astonishingly soft.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, voice rough like he doesn't speak much.

"Yeah, fine. You just startled me—I didn't hear you come in. Were you waiting long? Sorry about that."

"Oh. No, I wasn't. Sorry." He shifts weight between his feet. "You seemed pretty engrossed in your book. I didn't, uh, want to disturb you."

"Oh, hey, don't worry about that! It's literally my job to be here," you say, though you can't help but melt over how freaking sweet that is.

Jason visits you a minimum of twice a week. He's been coming for a couple of weeks. You know a whole three things about him: he's a university student, he pretty much only dresses in red or black, and he's unfairly cute.

At first, you were reasonably wary of him because it's Gotham, and he's so damn quiet. It's a little scary. You thought maybe he was an undercover spy casing the joint. Now you know he's just awkward.

"Slow day?" he asks.

"Slow year, more like. How are you? How was your exam?"

He blinks. "Exam?"

"Didn't you have an American lit exam last week?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Wow. Yes, I did. It was okay. Got an A."

"That's great! I knew you'd ace it."

His cheeks turn pink. Okay, you actually know four things about him: he blushes a lot.

You go to start the coffee machine. "Do you think you'll—"

"I-I have to go."

You watch, stunned, as he hurries out the door. That's when you notice the fifty dollar bill in your tip jar.

You don't know if you should bring up yesterday. Jason's back; that probably means everything's fine, right? You're not sure if you said something wrong, though. You've gone over the interaction a hundred times since and you can't figure out why he's so skittish around you.

"Hi. Hibiscus tea, please," he says, stoic as always.

You prepare his order, yesterday's interaction still fresh in your head. You should say something, shouldn't you? Or...

"Sorry about yesterday," Jason blurts, so fast you almost miss it. "Running out, I mean. I was, uh—I forgot something."

Well. Looks like he's going to bring it up for you.

"Oh, you don't have to apologize! If I said something wrong..."

Jason shakes his head fervently. "No, God no. You're perfect."

Your eyebrows shoot up. He turns red this time.

"I mean—not perf—well, you're amazing, don't get me wrong! Except, like, what is perfect, y'know? My brother has gotten into the habit of calling everything perfection like some kind of sitcom character. Alfred will make pie, and Dick'll go, "Alfie, that was perfection." And I feel like it's such an exaggeration—"

Jason's mouth snaps closed. He rubs his forehead.

"Um, I actually have chronic foot-in-mouth disease. It gets really, stupidly bad. Sorry."

You're trying hard not to giggle. You want to smother him in frosting and take a bite.

"You're really sweet, you know that?" you say.

"I'm really not," he says with a sigh.

"Not true. Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

You go into the kitchen and return with your latest experiment: matcha cream puffs.

"Do you mind trying these for me? You're not allergic to anything, are you?"

Jason's shoulders hunch. "Are you sure you want my opinion?"

"Of course I'm sure," you say happily. "I trust you."

"You trust me," he repeats quietly.

"Yup!"

Jason takes a puff and bites. He starts to nod.

"It's really good. You're really—all your creations are—yeah. It's good."

You squint. "No notes? Really?"

"They're perfection, as my brother would say."

Fuck, you like him so much.

"Have another one," you say, pushing the tray towards him.

"I shouldn't—"

"Wait! I'll pack you some!" you interrupt, flitting back to the kitchen to get a Tupperware.

Jason helplessly accepts the container of puffs you shove into his hands.

"Let me pay-" he tries to say, but you shake your head.

"Nope! I won't accept payment for these. Not from my favorite customer."

"Your favorite?"

"My favorite," you confirm, grinning.

"Oh." His ears turn pink as he walks to the door, cream puffs in hand. "Uh, right. Thanks. See you tomorrow."

"Jason? Don't you want your tea?"

"Shit. Yeah." He returns to the counter and takes his drink. This he insists on paying for, so you let him, because you do have rent to pay, after all.

"So nice to see you!" you add, because the stiffness in his gait is kind of throwing you off.

He just nods, slipping out the door as quietly as he came.

Today, Jason's in a red workout tank. You have to make the conscious effort to not ogle his arms.

"Hey, Jason!" you say cheerily.

"Hi," he says softly.

"The usual?" you ask, and he looks up in surprise.

"You know my order?"

You gently roll your eyes. "Of course I know your order, silly. Favorite customer, remember?"

"Oh." He looks away, brow furrowed. Then he turns to you and his expression smooths over. "Yes, please. Thanks."

"Sure. Give me one second? I just have to finish decorating some sugar cookies."

"Take your time," Jason says, then goes to skulk by the window.

The door is suddenly swung harder than necessary, thumping the glass.

"Hey!"

You look up from the cookies. A man in a suit is waving his phone impatiently.

"I ordered a dozen muffins. Where are they, huh?" he demands.

"Oh, right! Well, you called ten minutes ago, so they won't be ready till six, sir. Can I get you something while you wait?"

He scoffs and stomps to the counter. You almost back down, but you don't; that's exactly what these bullies want.

"This is exactly why no one eats at dinky cafes like yours. You can't even do this!" he fumes, shoving a finger in your face.

"Sir, like I said, the muffins are baking..."

"I know the city's health inspector personally," the man spits viciously. "One call, and I can—"

"Say one more word."

You blink as Jason is suddenly between you and the customer, stood at his full height. He's all muscle and broad shoulders, looming over the guy. You peek around him.

"What the fuck, man?" the angry customer squawks. "Move!"

"No, you move," Jason says, tone lethal. "Sit quietly at a table and wait for your muffins to bake. Then you can thank the nice baker for waiting on your sorry ass and you're not gonna come back. They have far more patience for entitled fucks than I do."

"Fuck you," the man spits.

Jason calmly closes the distance between them and whispers in his ear, hand like a vice around the jerk's shoulder. You watch as he turns pale, eyes growing wider.

"Sound good?" Jason asks pleasantly, all teeth. The man gapes at him.

Wow. Yeah. This is really doing something for you.

The oven dings. You go to retrieve the muffins, packing them as quickly as possible. You give him the box and the man nods.

"Thanks," he mumbles, then scurries out of the store.

Jason turns to you, and it's like looking at a completely different person.

"You okay?" he asks, posture stiff like he's still prepared for a fight.

You nod, a little dazed.

"Yeah. Wow. Jason, I... you didn't have to do that. I mean, thank you for doing it, but..."

"Hey, that guy was a jackass. And if you have trouble with him or anyone else, call me, okay?"

This side of him stuns you. If you didn't know better, you'd think he had this exchange regularly.

"Call you?" you ask, smiling. "How will I call you if I don't have your number?"

He freezes, eyes wide. "Oh. Uh. Um..."

You lean over, elbows on your counter. He watches you. You cup your hand around your mouth, pretending to divulge a secret.

"This is where you, the cute guy who frequents my struggling cafe, gives me your number."

"You think I'm cute?" he asks.

"Devastatingly so," you say, grinning.

He's quiet for a long moment. Your smile starts to dim.

"Did I read this wrong?" you ask. "If I came off too strong..."

"No!" he says a little too loud. Jason winces. "Sorry. No. I... you're... fuck, I'm not good at this. I don't even really drink tea or coffee, to be honest. I just come in to see you."

"You do?"

Jason sighs. "Yeah. Shit. That's creepy, isn't it?"

You laugh and he visibly softens.

"No, Jason," you say warmly. "It's sweet."

"So can I still ask you on a proper date? Not coffee."

You grin. "That would be perfection."

[harunayuuka2060]

Ace: Oi~ Grim~!

Grim: Mryah! What do you want?!

Ace: Ask your guardian for help~.

Grim: Mryah! No! My hench-human is already busy! And they're going to tease me if they find out what happened!

Ace: What? They're going to know because of that sea anemone on your head.

Grim: Mrhmm... I can just play dumb!

Ace: Tch. You're being stubborn. I'll tell them and you cannot stop me.

Grim: Mrryaaaahhhh!!! No!!!! *starts tackling Ace*

Ace: Wha— Get off me!

Grim: Don't tell my hench-human!

MC: Tell what?

Ace and Grim: AHH!

MC: What's that stupid thing on your head, Grim? Dummy hat? *smirks* Suits you.

Grim: ...

Grim: *starts crying* NRYAAAAAAHHH! Hench-human! *flies to their arms*

MC: Hm? Why are you crying? Don't tell me it's because I called your hat stupid?

Ace: That's not really... You see that on his head and on mine? They're sea anemones.

Ace: We got this after not reaching the top 100 in exams.

MC: Ah... *looks at Grim* Pft—

Grim: Don't laugh at me! Huu...

MC: So... Is that permanent?

Grim: *cries even more*

Ace: It will last a year, unless you help us?

MC: And why would I do that? You botched your exams. That's not my problem.

Ace: But aren't you worried about Grim? He's crying and feeling helpless!

MC: Nah~. That should teach you a lesson. Let's go, Grim. There's a huge steak waiting for you at the dorm.

Grim: I can't... *sniffles* I need to work at the Monstro Lounge...

Ace: Yeah! All of us with sea anemones are forced to work!

MC: Huh. So this stupid thingy is not just for embarrassment?

MC: ...

MC: Alright. Now I'm part of the business.

Azul: I can't possibly allow that...

MC: Why not?

Azul: The students involved signed a contract and they've agreed to follow all the terms.

MC: Huh. Is that so?

Azul: Yes. I know it's unfortunate, however—

MC: I'll work for you instead of Grim and the two dudes over there. *pointing at Ace and Deuce*

Azul: ...

Azul: For free?

MC: Don't be stupid. I'd still want a minimum wage.

Azul: That won't do.

MC: I'm a fucking skilled worker. Sure you heard I cleaned the whole school on my own.

Azul: ...

Azul: Can you work until closing?

MC: What do you take me for?

Azul: *smiles* Then, it's settled. Here are their contracts.

Ace: My name's Ace Trappola!

Deuce: And mine is Deuce Spade. Thank you so much!

Grim: Hench-human...

MC: What's your order?

Student A: Can you recommend something that is not on the menu? *snickers with his other classmates*

MC: Huh? Are you a fucking idiot?

The students: ...

MC: You go to a pizza place, you are expected to buy a pizza. It's the same when you go to a meat shop or steak house.

MC: You stupid bitch don't ask for a damn shit that is not on the menu. What? You think you're smart for doing that?

Student A: U-Um...

MC: What's your order and you better give me an answer that is on the fucking menu.

Student A: ...

Student A: Carbonara...

MC: *smiles* Now we're talking. Floyd! Four carbonaras on table 4!

Floyd: Coming right up~.

Ace, Deuce, and Grim: *watching them*

Deuce: Your guardian is amazing, Grim.

Ace: Yeah, yeah. Sure. But when are we going to order—

Jade: *sets dishes on their table*

Jade: *smiles* It's on the house.

Ace and Deuce: ...

Grim: Nyaha! These look good!

Ace: Uh... No offense. But why?

Jade: Azul is thankful that he accepted MC's offer. We have reached our quota and it isn't even closing yet.

Ace: Huh? Do you mean to say you've been getting more customers than before?

Jade: Yes.

Ace: Whoa...

Deuce: Hey, Grim! Don't just eat all the food by yourself!

Grim: What? It's my hench-human's hard work.

MC: *yawns* Go to sleep now, Grim.

Grim: Nryah... I'm so full..

MC: *when they're just about to close their eyes, receives a call* *tries to ignore it*

*their phone continues to ring*

MC: *clicks their tongue* *answers it* What?

MC: ...

MC: A modelling job?

MC: ...

MC: Nah. *hangs up*

Vil: ...

Vil: What the—

[chrissdollie]

hii i could you write popular!bakugou x quiet!reader or bakugou x reader inspired by in between by gracie adams 🤍

ofc! xx 4 - popular bakugou x quiet reader (characters are aged up and in college btw) wc: 691

either everybody is in love with bakugou or wants to be him. he has so many people asking about his quirk all the time and trying to get close to him, and he doesnt mind the attention. he's not cocky about his popularity, but he has a lot of pride. he's never alone, always walking the halls with people following him.

then theres you. a silent girl in most of his classes. you keep to yourself for the most part with very few close friends. in all of his lectures with you, you're seat is in front of him, and you'd never bothered him. not once. he honestly never really thought about you that much till a specific night.

"you idiots." bakugou grumbles to himself as he gets out of a friends car. he wasted yet another night of studying by partying with people he didnt even really like. except for his friend kiri, he was alright.

it was already 10:30. he wouldnt be able to stay awake, but he can't just go to sleep? nono, exams are very close, he needs to get as much information glued in his brain as possible. kiri had recommended having a study buddy. but who the hell would want to actually study with bakugou?? everyone would be distracted and frankly, he didnt have time for that.

and besides, he doesnt need anyone else. right? wrong.

because now as he walks up the stairs to the dormitories, he decides to find you. you were pretty normal for the most part, he thought. a bit of a nerd too, so he wasn't too worried about you having the wrong shit written down. he found your dorm and knocked softly, letting out a sigh.

meanwhile, you were munching on freshly made chocolate chip cookies while going over notes you had gotten from the lecture yesterday. you leaned back against your chair in a tiny tank top and shorts with your hair up in a claw clip. you had light music going on in the background, bopping your head slightly. though the bopping stopped as your head cocked to the side as soon as you heard the thuds of someone's steps coming towards your room.

you stood up when said person knocked on your door. maybe one of your friends came by, you thought. you grinned, excited you made so many cookies. you tip-toed to the door and swung it open.

with his hands dug into his pockets and a somewhat tired look on his face, the katsuki bakugou stood at your door in all his glory. "oh!" you squealed, your hand covering your mouth. "sorry, i-i just wasn't expecting you." you nervously spoke, feeling slightly embarassed.

"i need help. be my study buddy." bakugou spoke bluntly.

"huh? study buddy?" you muttered. bakugou stayed quiet and stepped into your room confidently, looking around. you stood to the side and shut the door behind you, following him inside where he walked over to your desk, looking at your neatly written notes. "yeah. you aint stupid or anythin' right?" he cocked a brow.

you shook your head softly. "no, i dont think so."

he nodded, eyes wandering down to what you were wearing. your eyes stared into his and realized what you had on. he bit the inside of his cheek. "what're you expectin' someone over?"

you shook your head, feeling awkward. "uh, no." you cleared your throat as bakugou sat in your chair, flipping through the pages you had spent such delicate time working on. "do you want a cookie?" you asked politely, pointing towards the plate on your desk, walking towards him. his head turned to where your finger was pointing.

he shrugged, taking one and biting into it. it was soft and chewy. and warm. his eyes brightened a little, just a little. "t's not bad. would be better with coffee." he stared at the bitten cookie in his hand, careful not to make a mess. you smiled at this. "coffee coming up!" you skipped to the kitchen.

that was the first time you had really spent time with him and you'd gotten to know him better than you thought you would have just by studying. needless to say, you enjoyed his company. you weren't around people too often, yet alone someone as popular and liked as bakugou.

as for him, he would never forget that day. it may sound stupid, but he thought you were something.. special. you didn't talk to him about his quirk, not once. you didn't ask if he had a girlfriend or if he was free next friday night. you were just you.

and you talked more than he anticipated also. guess you just had a lot kept inside till then. it seemed like that night, he had turned into the quiet one. and he didn't mind it at all. he grew closer with you and fell in love with you. yet, in class, you were still quiet. however, when it was just you two, you yapped for hours on end about anything.

he grinned at the thought.

I WANNA TURN THIS INTO A SERIES IM PROUD OF IT TBH.

[eliluvschan]

Tutor

pairing: bang chan x reader

word count: 512

warnings: fluffy, is it suggestive? i'm not sure. + pls tell me if there's something else

genre: fluff

a/n: wrote this really fast right before i had my English exam [which i aced] so enjoy this one while i go celebrate :) enjooooy

i wrapped my hair up in a towel and put on a robe.

when i stepped out of the bathroom, i heard a knock from downstairs.

i put on my slippers and went down. when i opened the door, he was standing there.

“oh..” he looked me up and down. “i’m sorry. i had nothing to do and came earlier.” he laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck.

i could feel myself getting red.

“come in.” i bit my lip.

i closed the door and shook my head as his back was turned to me.

“to get a head start.” he said as i walked him over to the dining table.

“of course.” i said. “uh, just give me a few minutes. i’ll be right back.”

he nodded and sat down. i practically ran up the stairs.

“shit.” i yanked the towel off of my head.

i went over to my dresser, sliding on a clean underwear and putting on a bra. i took off my robe and grabbed a pair of black sweats and a random crewneck.

after quickly blow drying my hair, i grabbed my things and went downstairs.

“i’m so sorry.” i said, sitting down on the chair next to him.

''naurr, i'm sorry.'' he said, his thick Australian accent coming through. ''i have a tendency to show up early to things without warning. i should have called.''

i just nodded.

''let's get started?'' he raised an eyebrow at me.

''yeah.''

long story short, i'm failing entry level Korean.

my teacher reached out to my parents and he said Chan could tutor me. since he's also fluent in English. at first i denied the help, but my mother insisted. and now, he's here.

i opened my Korean textbook to the first page.

there was a list of basic vocabulary and some practice sentences at the bottom of it.

''so, what is it you're having trouble with?''

''everything.'' i scoffed.

''how come?''

''because mr. Lee is so boring and i just can't pay attention to anything that goes on in class. i just don't like Korean. at all.''

he looked at me like i insulted him.

''no offence.'' i reassured.

why did i just say that? he's literally Korean, and trying to help me pass this class. idiot.

''none taken.'' he said. ''do you at least know what yes and no are?''

''네 and 아니요.''

''good.'' he said. ''let's just start with a simple introductory sentence.''

i nodded.

''repeat after me.''

''alright.''

''제'' he started.

''제'' i repeated.

''이름은'' he continued.

''이름은''

''Y/n''

''Y/n''

''입니다.''

''입니다.''

the way the words fell so smoothly and perfectly from his lips practically made me drool.

''very good.'' he grinned. ''i can teach you another simple sentence.''

''okay..''

''키스해주세요.'' he said slowly.

''키스해주세요.'' i repeated. ''what does it mean?''

''kiss me.''

before i knew it, his lips were already on mine while his hand stroked over my right cheek. it took a while for us to pull away from each other.

''like Korean now?''

''네.''

~

[tojisun]

Riffing off of 141 coming home without Johnny.

I feel like it’d also be heartbreaking if instead of fully breaking down at first you have a moment of, oh my god are the others okay? Kyle are you okay?. Then it hits. Do they have his body? Where is he? Can you go see your Johnny? Are you even allowed to? Bonus points if the last time you properly talked to them before they all left you had a small argument with soap as he was leaving out the door.

HELLO

oh my god the questions. asking if you are allowed to see your spouse; ready to beg if they say you aren't. and the—

"your johnny." just how he always playfully calls himself, yeah?

he says things like, "won't you kiss yer johnny?", "won't you hug yer johnny goodbye?"

promises things like, "yer johnny's gon' come back, bonnie. swear on m'life."

you always did tell him not to bet it all on his life, grumbling as you tell him to take that back because you are superstitious and you've long since learned to avoid the insinuation, lest your words unfurl into realities.

then here, right now...

god YEA YEA I GET YOU!! i added these tags in my prev post—

but holy shit thinking about how the shock is put on halt because you want to take care of kyle first. how the devastation did not even settle in yet as you grapple with the intensity of your worry.

you paw at the others, trying to pull them close — trying to feel them because that is the only way you will ever know that they're alive too — and when they press in, when you feel the brush of kyle's breath on your cheek and price's callused palm rubbing your back and simon's warmth on your side, the ache sinks in.

it spreads all over your chest, chilling the pathways of your nerves until you feel like you are suspended; like the rest of the world has frozen over.

"kyle, i'm— i wanna see— i wanna see jo—"

god, you can't even say his name.

also? are you tryna kill me with that last one? "bonus points" ON WHAT? THE WHUMP SCALE? THE ANGST EXAM?? BC UR PASSING IT W FLYING COLOURS

im gutted so hard oh my godddd

i just know you (reader) won't be able to forgive yourself; won't be able to sleep at night. hell, you can't even stay in the same house anymore because it's so full of johnny and his smell and even the phantom sounds of his laugh. and his room was still unmade and you are so afraid to walk in and see it the same way that he left it — with his clothes on the floor, his extra pair of boots flung around, and there on his bed post was the scarf from a random girl he met at the bar.

you know he wouldn't cheat so why did you keep on insisting? why were you lashing out?

why did you—

"sometimes, i don't think you even truly love me."

why did you say that to him?

[starlightsreigns]

that's my girl | t. tonga

summary: malia just needs a breather, and the MFT is here to give her just that.

warnings: smut! mdni!

word count: 937

author's note: it's exam week for me, but here's something short & sweet while i get those done xo

I love watchin’ you take it

To trust a man is to put your pride aside. To trust Jimmy Uso is to watch his every move because he plays too fucking much. Malia loves him, and that’s why she knows him all too well and knows that this dinner tonight could all go to hell if he didn’t let up on the tiny black remote that he had in his position. what would possess her to wear the vibrating thong under her dress tonight and then give him the remote to control it? She must’ve been drunk when it happened because now, she was sitting between Jimmy and Tama, pressing her legs together to keep from exploding. 

malia swallows some water, squirming in her seat as the speed goes up. The conversation was lost on her as she shot Jimmy a quick glare. He smiles innocently, turning to talk to his brother from across the table. 

“you good, lia?” tama studies her for a moment. “I can feel your leg shakin’ against mine.” 

that is embarrassing and Malia just gives him a curt nod, “Yeah, just a lot in my head.” 

That is enough for now for him, and Malia bits her lip. She crosses her leg to try and find some relief, but that has the opposite effect. she grips the table and quickly uncrosses her leg. Jimmy smirks in her direction, then looks past her at Tama who eyes them suspiciously but full of interest. 

Malia rests her head against the table, but that makes Jimmy increase the speed. fuck, she wants to kill him in the middle of this restaurant but all she can do is straighten out and look at him. 

“Baby, please.” she whispers, punching his thigh from underneath the table. “I can't do this.”

But that’s not enough as Jimmy shakes his head. malia takes a deep breath and skins further into her seat. tama, who smirks knowingly, scoots closer to Malia. He whispers into her ears. 

“you know, he’s gonna make you cum right here on this seat.” his voice was like honey in her ear. 

it takes a moment for her to meet his eyes. She nods slowly. Jimmy's not the sharing type, but for some reason, he bent the rules when it came to Tama - not that Malia completely understands or opposes. It was a conversation out of the blue one day about how she felt about Tama joining them one night because of a simple comment she made once. The man is attractive, she’s not one to shy away from saying so. It was only once, months ago, but right there in his living room and in the middle of the dinner, she could see there was a plan involved. 

“I'll be right back,” malia murmurs as she stands from the table. 

Her walk upstairs to the bathroom felt like a million years but she needed to get out of sight of everyone. As she reaches for the bathroom door, a hand grabs her and pulls her into the bedroom. malia lets out a soft moan as the volume increases again. She can’t take it anymore and when her eyes meet Tama’s, she collapses into his chest, gripping his shirt as the euphoria washes over her. 

“How was that?” Tama smirks, showing her the remote. “When Jimmy passed me this earlier, I knew I had to get you alone.” 

Malia gawks at him, “you two are pieces of shit,” 

Tama chuckles as he moves her to the bed. She watches as he hikes her dress up and slips the panties off and tosses them behind him. He stands up between her legs and drinks in every curve of her body while she lays back on her elbows. Malia motions him over. There was nothing else to wait for and her horniness had taken over. Malia knew exactly what the men planned, and she wants it now. 

“Are you gonna take whatever you and Jimmy agreed on?” She flicks her hair off of one of her shoulders.

It takes no time for Tama to be over her, deep in her guts without a care for his guests who were downstairs. Malia holds onto him as he pounds into her, hiding her moans in his neck. His fast pace made it to where the only sounds in his massive bedroom were from their skin as it slapped together. Tama continues driving into her, balls deep, as she squeezes her eyes shut. 

“This what you wanted? You ain’t gone beg me, Malia?” He grunts in her ear, as she moans in response. Tama slams into her, causing all thought to leave her brain. “C’mon, say my name while i’m in it.”

Malia can't think straight let alone form a coherent sentence, but she finds herself moaning his name as he speeds up. Her fingernails were deep in his back, leaving scratches that she knew he’d have to hide at work. Her back arches off the bed and her toes curl, lost in the rush of everything happening - she felt like she wasn’t in her body anymore. His dick slams against her g-spot like it was its home. And as her eyes flutter shut, Malia has to find all the power in her weak body not to scream at the top of her lungs. 

“That’s my girl, let it go.” He coaxes in a soft voice.

“Fuck, Tama, fuck!” She moans, feeling her body go limp. Tama bites her shoulder before quickly pulling out between rugged thrusts to cum on her stomach. They go quiet to catch their breaths. “This what you wanted, Tama?”

“More than anything, Malia.”

xx i love tama so much, help me. until next time x

[anama-cara]

Take care

Boston Era!Joel Miller x you

Part 2

Summary: You're a nurse working in the Boston QZ and when a handsome new patient comes in you just can't help yourself. Word count: 1.4k

Warnings:  Dead Dove Do Not Eat, +18 minors dni, handjob, somnophilia, noncon. reader has no physical descriptions such as skin color or body type

You fucking hate it here- you hate Boston, hate FEDRA, hate your job, hate the world, hate your life. You need some excitement, something new. You're working as a nurse in a dirty QZ hospital. It's such a fucking joke. The hospital (if you can even really call it that) looks like an abandoned building. The lights flicker, the glass windows are shattered, the floor is always covered in grime, some of the brick walls are even crumbling in the front. Whenever a surgery needs to be done they just dip the instruments in a bucket of alcohol, theres no such thing as a sterile procedure anymore. There aren't enough supplies or staff left to properly function as a real hospital. There are only a few doctors for a ton of patients, some people that come in don't even get seen by a doctor. So that's where you come in, the nurses. You aren't even an actual nurse, you've never been formally trained. Before the outbreak you were a radiology tech, and once the QZ was set up they went around asking for anyone who was in the medical field. You volunteered, but you had no idea it'd be for a job like this. They just threw you to the wolves and over the years you've improvised and learned what works. It was messy in the beginning, you were scrambling and scared and had breakdowns almost daily. But now you feel like a hardened nurse, numb to most things. 

You're sitting in the "break room" munching on some jerky and absentmindedly kicking at a smudge mark on the ground with your boot. 

There's a flurry of commotion the hallway and the door flies open. 

"Jen?"

Your friend pokes her head in. "Oh good you're here, come on, we've got an intake. Male in late 40s, early 50s. Stab wound. "

"Is the doc coming to take a look?"

"Nope. Busy. It's on you."

"Me? He's not my patient and I'm supposed to be on break."

She laughs. "Yeah sorry. I would. You know I would. But my plate is full. I got a gun shot wound that's infected that's taking all my time. I wouldn't throw you this one if I didn't know you can handle it."

"Of course Jen. I got your back." You're following her down the hall rushing towards the emergency entrance.

"Thanks. Two guys brought him in." She nods to a room at the end of the hall on the left. 

"OK thanks Jen." You give her a nod and head towards your newest patient as she bustles down the corridor. 

"Hello I'm- shit." This is the kinda shit you're getting sick and tired of. The men just dumped him and left. Your patient is fully unconscious, laying flat on his back on the exam table, wound still bleeding. This guy needs a doctor, but you're all there is. You sprint for the supplies closet, grabbing alcohol wipes, gauze and suturing materials. With your arms full you rush back to the room. Good thing he's unconscious, you think, because this is going to hurt and the hospital ran out of pain meds long ago. 

You tug and rip his flannel shirt open, making the buttons pop off. You're tearing open packets of gauze and trying to clean his wound so you can get a good look at the entry point. Finally after wiping away the dried and fresh blood you get a clean view. You begin disinfecting. There's an open gash about four inches long running underneath his ribs on the right side.

You blow out a deep breath, pull up a chair and get to work closing the laceration. 

--

An hour later you push yourself up, set your instruments aside, wipe the sweat from your brow and look over the stitches. Given the circumstances its looks pretty darn good, you're actually proud of yourself. 

You look your patient over, eyes moving past his wound and taking him wholly in for the first time. 

He's probably in his early 50s, patchy graying beard, tan skin, ruffled hair. His flannel shirt you ripped open reveals his hard chest and soft tummy. You study his sleeping face, the creases in his brow and the hard angles of his jaw and nose. He's undeniably handsome.

You notice the blood on his flannel and you sigh as you stand up from your stool. You stretch, back aching after leaning over him to sew his wound. You reach for his flannel and begin tugging his limp arms out of the sleeves. You pull the bloody shirt out from underneath him and toss it on a nearby table. His arms are muscular and you notice a few scars here and there. Your hand reaches out on its own accord to lightly trace over a jagged white line on his bicep. He twitches at your touch and your hand quickly pulls away. 

You move down to his jeans. After unbuckling his belt you slowly pull them down, trying to be as gentle as possible. Now that the immediate danger of the bleeding stab wound has been dealt with you need to do a physical exam and make sure he has no injuries elsewhere. You toss his pants on the table and walk back to your patient, examining every inch of his beautifully tanned skin. You can get him a hospital gown later. Your hand traces up his leg and you watch it as it moves over his dark hair, over his knee and rests on his thigh at the edge of his boxers. You shift your gaze higher and to your surprise you see his hardened bulge pushing against his boxers. You gulp and your hand lightly glides up and down his inner thigh, tracing along his muscle. You shoot a glance up to his face - he's still out. You look at the closed door and try to listen. You don't hear anyone in the hallway. The only other nurse on duty in your unit of the hospital is Jen and she's definitely still occupied with that gunshot wound...

You reach up and with one hand you pull the waistband and his boxers out while your other hand slips underneath, wrapping around his hard cock. His cock twitches when you first touch him and you smile. You slowly move your hand all the way down, feeling the full length of him. Damn he's got a nice one. You swallow the spit that's pooling in your mouth. You drag your hand back up and your thumb runs through his slit and circles around the head. You look at Joel's face again. He's still completely out but you think his brow looks more furrowed and his mouth a little more opened. You continue to gaze up at him as you twirl around his head, feeling precum beginning to bead at his tip. You swipe and gather it on your index finger before popping it in your mouth. Salty and warm and deliciously masculine. You pull your finger out and hold up your hand as you tounge it, licking your palm and fingers.

Your grab his cock again, pumping him faster now as your hand glides over his warm smooth skin. You hum to yourself as you work. 

Minutes later and you feel him tightening. You quickly grab a cloth from the table and tuck it under his boxers just in time. He erupts under your hand, ribbons of messy cum spilling into the cloth. When he's done your pull the cloth out and wrap it up neatly, keeping everything it caught tucked into the middle. Joel's eyelids flutter and he makes a groaning noise. He'll be waking up soon. You place the dirty cloth in the laundry bag and step into the hallway to grab a patient gown from the clean linen cart. You wash off your sticky hand and quickly dress him. You're tidying up your instruments when Joel finally wakes up, groaning as he tries to sit. 

"Woah mister careful, you got a pretty good gash in your abdomen there. Easy. Just relax. You're in the hospital now. I'll take good care of you." 

You smile pleasantly at him. 

[fandomfluffandfuck]

as someone obsessed with pussy steve, it drives me insane because i was doing my final exam today and all i was thinking about is "am i going to read the same pussy steve blog of S? yeah tf i am" and im here requesting from u some more pussy steve bc goddamn thats my obsessionnnnn. plus it's my first time asking u to write anything (i dont do shit but read things here and trying not fail school at the same time)

related to this pussy Steve ask

also... we're channeling this vibe shamelessly as we continue on from that last post, still set during WWII

Good job with your finals!! Let's dive in 👀

Steve can't fucking take it anymore, groaning as he flops back onto the squeaky, lumpy mattress that's supposed to be his bed. They've been holed up in this goddamn remote rubble city for what feels like years after clearing the town of HYDRA and Nazi agents with no action to burn off his excessive energy. The once standing city has long since been evacuated because of the air raids. The bombs have flattened almost half of it, shaking the other half immensely, but without orders to go elsewhere, the Howling Commandos are lying low, trying to plan their next move on their own. It feels like a waste just to march all the way back to camp but they don't have any other leads. Not yet.

And the Howlies have scavenged the area already, gathering any remaining, surviving food that isn't their shit MREs, plus having made sure no civilians were left behind before sitting down to talk and plan.

And talk and plan and talk and plan.

Steve can only strategize for so long, he can only play card games for so long, he can only draw on scraps of paper for so long; the serum has left him even more hot blooded than he was with all this vivacity he couldn't've dreamed of before, as thin and sickly as he was. So it's a fucking problem. Sitting still.

Waiting.

They should be doing something. Seeing action. Doing good. This is war. It feels so bizarre to sit between what they have just seen and what they're going to see. Bad things.

So, yeah, Steve is having a hard time unhelped by the fact that they're stuck in the one reliable structure that happens to be a small inn with thin walls. It's a blessing to have their own rooms and real beds, just enough rooms that they only have to pair up rather than sleeping in a dog pile together, but they might as well be together with these paper walls. Thus, Steve is being extra careful as he attempts to burn off some steam, alone while the others do... whatever... out in the main room (maybe a game of poker?) by stuffing the undershirt he's been wearing beneath his red white and blue uniform into his mouth.

The shirt tastes of salt and musk, balled up and packed between his teeth, filling his mouth, keeping his jaw open. Keeping the sounds he wants to make down. Most of the sounds. He can't help the sounds his body makes that don't come out of his mouth... wet, slick squelching sounds from between his legs, his fingers plunging deep into himself as if he's trying to get to his heart. In the scenario where he wanted to get off and be done with it, he'd be making tight, hard circles around his clit, pressing down against it hard, impatient and rough with himself, making himself a little raw with it but a lot sensitive--but that's not what he wants right now. He wants to burn through energy now. So, he has two fingers crooked inside his pussy, plunging them in and drawing them out slow enough that it makes him crazy. It's enough to feel good, so, so good, but not enough to get him off.

Steve's not wearing his uniform without the undershirt while he fingers himself. Well, he's not wearing it in full. He's kept his pants and boots on in case they need to get up and go, but... his pants are gaping open.

He's undone the long zip and aaall the latching buttons, ripping the taps as wide apart as he can get them without just taking his pants off. His hand shoved beneath both layers--pants and underwear.

His boxers are ruined. Wet. Soaked.

Registering just how sticky and wet he is, pulling his fingers out of his cunt to trace his puffy, swollen slit, he plays with his own wetness. He's dripping. He doesn't touch his aching clit directly, but he does put pressure on the legs of it, tracing the v down his vulva, spreading his legs wider, just a tiny bit, so his lips are out of the way as much as they can be, exposing himself, touching himself, and--

Choking on a whimper as electric pleasure shoots through him.

That's the closest he's let himself get to touching his clit in, in... however long it's been? An hour? Two? Ten minutes?

Steve doesn't let it last. Instead, blearily, he presses his middle and ring fingers back into himself. Back into the scorching, melted heat of his body. His foot kicks out, restless, needing something to do with the thick lust building inside him. Groaning softly through his shirt, Steve arches his neck, lifting his head off the bed just enough to let it come crashing back down heavily, giving his sweat-soaked blonde hair an impressively ruffled style.

As thoughts as he feels--his coherency consumed by pleasure--Steve suddenly flushes, wondering if Bucky will be able to smell it on him when he's done (if he doesn't already know what he's locked himself into their room to do). Once he's worn himself out, cumming on his own fingers after too much build up to be comfortable, leaving himself hurting with too much tension and desire, will Bucky know? Steve will button and zip up his pants and put his shirt back on and waltz back out there, but will it all be only for Bucky to corner him away from the other guys and maybe tip his chin up, fingers on his jaw, eye-to-eye, give him those dark eyes that say, I know what you did, maybe Bucky will kiss his neck and murmur to him hotly, or maybe he'll bend him over, their clothes still on, his cock a hot, thick line in his trousers, pressed against his slit, sweet talking him with his players voice, saying filthy things about how he can smell it on him like he's a bitch in heat with the most syrupy tone, crooning so Steve will get stickier, wetter, and gooey-er. Melted in the center like some kind of oozing, chocolate dessert. Hot and ready to be devoured.

Bitten.

Licked.

Swallowed.

Steve is thinking about his best guy's cock and he's thinking about his mouth, too, now. He's thinking about those sweet talking, wicked lips. He's thinking about his immaculately styled head of hair between his thighs, going to town. Not an ounce of reservation in the way he dives into him, in how he licks, how he slurps, how he fucks.

Jesus Christ.

Steve's jaw works around his balled up shirt, clenching. His throat contracts as he swallows thickly, praying that he doesn't wail like he wants to. The sound is in his chest, rattling around, building into this aching pressure. He can't fit anymore arousal inside himself. He's gonna burst.

Then, when he's weak and he just can't fucking stop himself, Bucky on his mind like always, Steve curls his fingers just enough to catch the raised spot inside him, spongy and sensitive. So fucking sensitive. His sweet spot that causes his hips to involuntarily buck up, searching for more, needing more. If he weren't gagged, he'd be moaning for it.

Moaning Bucky's name.

Bucky's on his mind already, so, of course, he wants Bucky on his tongue, too. Worse, he wants Bucky inside him. He wants him so bad that he's fucking aching, clenching around his fingers, hips squirming, toes curling, panting. He wants Bucky's cock in him so bad, slamming home so he's leaking around it, wetting his balls and smearing all over both of their thighs. He's a slippery mess.

He wants Bucky so bad that he has to stop thrusting his fingers in and out of his tight cunt to work a third finger into himself, chasing the girth of his dick. He can't get as deep as Bucky does, and it's just not the same to the point that, that--

Steve garbles out something of a sob. His eyes sting with tears. His head is so hot with frustration. Hazy and smoking. He can't think. He can't keep his rhythm. He's shaking.

Fuck.

When he pulls out to add another fingertip--stretching before he eases the entire length of his own finger in--he realizes he can smell himself. Already, he could smell himself wafting up from his unwashed shirt, sweaty, but now he can smell the hot, briny musk of his own arousal, carried on the sex-thick air of the quaint inn room. Humid and heavy.

He can smell himself. Sweat, musk, and leaking slick. It's an unmistable scent that turns Steve on more than it should, considering it's his own smell, twisting up in his gut and making him feel tighter, tenser, hotter. He can taste himself. Sweat, musk, and dirty, unwashed cotton coating his tongue, dripping down his throat, joining the lust already pooled low in his belly. He can hear himself. Slick, squelching, and lewd with his fingers curling inside himself. Muffled and drowning with sounds dying in the back of his throat before they have the chance to come out of his mouth. The soft snuffling, shuffling sounds of his pants folding and brushing against the bed sheets, fabric rustling and creaking as his thighs spread instinctively until the the seams groan. Every sound is another piece of wood added to the fire, burning hotter until it crackles and pops with the explosions of hot sap. Steve is feasting on these sensations as much as he's feasting on the slick, velvet feeling of the inside of his own pussy. He can touch himself. Smooth, wet inner walls that cling so tightly to his own fingers. If he could lift his head, the weight of his empty skull, so weakened, he could see himself, too--his hand moving in his pants, the veins running over his muscled forearms bulging with the effort of working his fingers so much.

God, he wants more in him.

His fingers work faster, curling a little harder, plunging deeper until he's erupting with another garbled cry.

He wants Bucky's cock in his pussy, throbbing with the pound of his best guy's heart, at the same time that he wants Bucky's thumb to sneak down between where their sweaty bodies collide with every frantic thrust, slicking the digit up with Steve's overpouring wetness until he reaches back, traces the sensitive, pink flesh between his legs to get to his asshole and pops it inside him, too, giving him something extra. Extra stuffing, his thumb in his ass, pressing back against his pussy. The thin wall between his holes. Giving him something more to clench down on while he wails, crashing over the edge as Bucky grinds so deep he can taste it, choke on it, so deep that his pelvis rubs on Steve's swollen clit and makes it impossible not to cum.

Guh.

Steve is drooling, soaking into his own shirt, thinking about Bucky.

Drowning in pleasure from his own hand.

Steve is rocking up into his hand, his hips with a mind of their own, or, rather, mindless in the pursuit of pleasure, instinctively rutting, humping, rolling, and just going. He's trying to swallow moans and gasps to varying degrees of success. He knows not all of them stay down in his tight, heaving chest, but he doesn't know how loud his noises are, his heartbeat is too loud in his ears.

Regardless of his noises, he keeps chasing his pleasure, his clit swollen and peaking out as much as it can from it's hood--leaving it vulnerable and draaagging just lightly against the heel of his hand. It's agonizing. With every feathered drag of his sensitive clit against his hand, it's making his sounds grow worse. He will be wailing soon no matter what he does. No matter how much he tries to keep it down.

It aches.

It hurts.

It feels sofuckinggood.

His jaw is working so hard that it feels like his teeth will rip into his shirt soon. Gah. Oh, ah, yeahh--

The temperature keeps going up and up in and all around Steve, fever hot, when the door swings open.

Steve is so tightly wound that he can't freeze. There is no way to stop the forest fire within him. It's going to have to come to its own conclusion when it has burned through everything he has, only ash left. Nothing can put him out.

So it's a damn good thing that it's Bucky that walks through the open door, hurriedly slamming it behind him when his eyes land on Steve's debauched, twitching form on the bed they've been sharing. A cold rush of air comes in with him, leaving all the hair on Steve's body to stand on end in salute. He quivers harder.

Bucky wastes no time. He is deadly, vicious in his pursuit--the sound of the door slamming hits Steve's ears, delayed with his mushy brain, and then Bucky is immediately on him like a predator pouncing.

His body is heavy on top of him, pinning him with the drag of his uniform against Steve's sensitive, sweat-glistening skin.

Real.

He's so real that it's visceral. It's not just Steve's heated, out-of-control fantasies as he approaches his orgasm without breaks.

Bucky cages him in with his body, one of his hands planted by Steve's head, steadying himself, while his other hand grabs ahold of Steve's forearm to rip his hand out of his pants.

Steve does wail then, through his makeshift gag.

The look on Bucky's face is evil, mocking him playfully, asking, oh, really, is that how it is?

After all these years, they read each other like open books. Steve knows he knows how turned on he is, and it's devastating. Bucky probably knows just based on how much he's blushing and how he can't keep his eyes open, how long he's been going at it for. He knows how much it aches to be untouched when he gets like this. Especially now. Post-serum. It's all he can think about. He can feel his heartbeat pounding in his pussy. He's hot and swollen and so wet that it brings stinging tears to his eyes. God.

He's so fucking needy.

He needs Bucky. He needs--

Bucky sticks both of Steve's hands above his head, crossed at the wrist, and uses one of his own to pin them there. Steve could easily break away any time, but now. He's so worn down. He's weak. His brain has gone out of his head, and all of his super-strength has drained from his body out of his weeping cunt. He's depleted. He can do nothing by lay there, helpless and vulnerable, as Bucky shoves and pushes and shimmies his pants and underwear down. He barely gets them halfway down his thighs before he stops, and because of it, Steve sucks in a sharp breath through his balled up shirt. The air of the room is shocking against his soaked, sticky center.

Guh.

GUH!

Steve makes a fucking stupid sound when Bucky quits messing with his tangled up pants to instead mess with his pussy. He slips one, then two, then three inside him. Fast. A predator tearing through prey, no time to think, just do. His shit eating grin tells Steve that he's impressed with how sloppy he's gotten himself, and he wants to cry in embarrassment but also pride.

With three fingers inside him, Bucky curls them and grinds them deeper, deeper, curls, deep, curl, deep--

Steve's head is spinning. He doesn't even know what Bucky is doing to him. It just, it, it, ohgod, his eyes roll back so far, so hard it hurts, it feels so good. It's wrecking him. Whatever he's doing to him. Maybe it's Bucky's reckless thirst for him. Maybe it's the serum burning like venom in his veins. Maybe it's both of them mixing together into one harsh cocktail, so intoxicating it immediately makes him drunk.

The things Bucky is doing to his body make Steve want to shriek in pleasure. He's letting go of his wrists but it's not like Steve can move anyway and it's for good reason that he's not pinning him anymore because instead he's pressing down on his belly with that hand as he curls his fingers more, more, more, curling them towards himself hard, pressing so hard on that spot inside him that Steve doesn't even, he's not even sure he can comprehend the pleasure cutting through him, it's so much pressure building up inside him, taking more space than he realized he had even inside this bigger, stronger body, he can't, he's not strong enough, he--

Steve gasps and squirms, not understanding, wanting to babble, oh, oh, Bucky, what-I, I'm-! Wait! What is that feeling? Why does it feel like that? Wh--he can't, though, he can't say anything, his mouth stuffed.

He screams behind his teeth and--

Steve fucking whites out.

He's there one minute and then he's gone in a flash. Too much pleasure. Too much pressure. Too good. He's half convinced, totally out of his mind, that he's exploded or, or...

Oh.

As Steve returns to himself in bits and pieces, still shattered in the aftermath, he's almost sure he's lost so much control of himself that he's pissed himself. He's so fucking wet. Soaked down his thighs and down Bucky's wrist. If he has pissed himself, then he's given everything up to Bucky, his body entirely his lover's, every part of it, but then.

JesusfuckingChrist.

Then, Bucky's voice breaks through the ringing in his ears, and he's softly, quietly purring to him, mindful of their thin walls in a way Steve has not been while being stripped down to the bone in exhausting, overwhelming pleasure. Bucky's voice is all low and hot, too turned on as he works Steve through it, touching him much softer, nicer, lighter while he tells him how fucking hot that was, watching him, feeling him squirt around his fingers. And, holy shit, he's gonna make him do that on his dick. He will.

It's a promise.

Now that he knows he can make Steve squirt, he's gonna do it all. the. fucking. time.

Steve whines through his gag, his body trembling hard with his fading fever. Oh. It hits like a sledgehammer to the back of his head. He's going to die. Bucky is gonna kill him, making him squirt, making him writhe, making him want to crawl out of his own body, giving him too much gutteral, visceral pleasure.

Bonus:

I've had a draft sitting here on Tumblr for a while that simply says:

Lil pussy Steve domming big, beefy Bucky. Steve's wearing a pair of panties to a party, getting them messy in a closet or bathroom or... both... where Bucky fingers him until he cums, then, once they've finished and Steve is desperately wet, he makes Bucky put swap underwear with him. Bucky obeys because of course he's done--he's big and he falls hard. Steve's wet, dirty panties, though, they're much too tight and remind him for the next few hours (hours that Steve, the introvert, suspiciously makes them stick around the party for) exactly of what they did. How he made his dom squirt and make these panties wet and smell musky and hot like his pussy does. Ruin them. Ruining the panties, ruining Bucky.

Plus, the whole rest of the party, Bucky has to live with the fact that Steve doesn't have any underwear on because rather than put Bucky's boxers on, he shoved them into his pocket where he could take them out at any time. Fuck, they could fall out at any moment! Bucky can't focus on a single fucking conversation.

And it's not until they get home that Bucky gets to cum.

When they're finally, finally home, Steve pushes Bucky down onto the floor, mounts his lap, and grinds into his hard, hard cock bursting out of his teeny-tiny, too-tight panties. The underwear is so little and delicate, all wet lace, that Bucky nearly ripped them putting on his bigger body. Demanding him to cum and ruin them further, one of Steve's thin, bony hands constricts around his throat.

Oh, yeah, he owns this big, subby mess of a man.

So... do with that what you will 😏

[ramblingsfromthytruly]

my academic journey (warning: i ranted) -

so ever since i started school till about the end of 8th grade i was always a 90%+/straight A student. the kind of child my classmates & cousins would be compared too. not trying to glamorize comparison btw, i personally think that's really toxic & pressurizing. so yeah, i was a "good" quiet kid. i listened attentively in class and submitted all my homework on time. the only complain teachers had about me was that i was "too quiet" but that wasn't a real issue. i was just shy but talkative with my few friends yano. i spent the entirety of 7th grade & most of 8th grade in online classes so my habits of studying went to shit. still somehow managed 91% in my 8th grade finals. and then 9th began and it all went downhill. teachers kept saying 'next year is ur board exams, u need to study a lot, etc, etc.' so if u're not from india we basically have these major 'board exams' at the end of 10th & 12th grade. but 10th boards don't really matter all that much, teachers just make a big fuss about it. 12th boards matter, but that's also the time we give college entrance exams and that sorta matters more according to most ppl. n yeah, idk what happened but i got overwhelmed. i could no longer just do well in class and study before exams and get good marks. i felt dumb. my grades didn't see a single improvement. i honestly gave up in the middle of it all and got sick of school. and at one point, it became less burn out & more clinging to the familiarity of not doing anything. i became lazy. and i became a hypocrite. i'd always tell myself, this time i'm gonna study, this time i'm gonna score well. well that 'this time' never came. 10th grade got even worse and i scored 73% in my board exams because i barely studied at all. at the same time, my relationship with my parents has constantly been unraveling. and i saw just how much of their 'pride' was dependent on me being the kid they could show off and smile widely when others replied 'wow she's going places'. my father can't hold a single conversation with me now that doesn't go back to me being a disappointment. and now i'm the kid who has to listen to her parents compare her to others. 'be like her, your friend', they say. halfway though 11th rn and i guess what?? still no fucking improvement. but the thing is i know this is the last straw. i can feel it. i got around 64% in my first tests (pa-1) of 11th. haven't gotten mid term results yet but i'm estimating just above 50%. and the thing is it's not that i can't score well. i know my potential all too well. i know i can score such high marks. but the problem is i don't study. if i just studied a couple hours every day, i can easily manage above 80%. with constant improvement i can manage above 90% again. but i don't. and that's ending right this instant. i'm not gonna turn into an academic weapon overnight or smth ik that. but i'm gonna start slowly but surely working hard. i have big dreams, i know i can achieve them if i just put in the effort. plans have been made, all i need to do is execute them. execute my laziness. i'm gonna get better. i'm gonna prove everyone who thinks i'm never gonna do it wrong, and i'm gonna prove myself right. this comeback will be for me, my inner child. the little kid in me deserves to not wind up a washed-out failure.

academic goals! -

pa-2 - 75-80%

11th finals - 80-85%

12th pa-1 - above 90%

uni - iiser (college for pure science research, bs + ms integrated)

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Midterm Madness

Luke Hughes x OC

"Babe?" His rough, sleep-filled voice mumbles, rolling over in our bed. "What are you doing up?"

"Oh God, did I wake you?" I answer instead, dulling the screen of my laptop that sits in front of me. "I've been trying so hard to type quietly." Okay, that wasn't the answer Lu was looking for, based on how adorably confused he is right now, curls everywhere.

"It's- two in the morning Baby, why aren't you asleep?" He tries again, pulling the textbook off my lap, "And what is this?"

"I have a midterm in the morning, I was just studying now since I didn't have a chance to today at the hospital and then I got home with barely enough time to make dinner before you and Ja -"

"I wish you would have told me Baby," He interrupts, rolling on top of me and preventing any further studying. "I don't want you to feel like you have to cook for the Jack and I when you spend the night here, especially after a shift or on an exam night."

"But I enjoy it, it's like sitting down to family dinner and I don't get those when I go home," I can't help but remind, because it's the truth. He was there during my parents divorce last year when my sister left for school and made them an empty nester. He knows what was lost, and the Hughes family did their best to fill it in.

"How can I help with..." Are the next words out of his mouth, his strong arms pulling my back into his chest, holding the textbook in his hands as if he were reading. "Biochemical reactions?"

"I appreciate your efforts baby but you have practice tomorrow, and-"

"And nothing. Come on, if you're up, I'm up, and we're going to overnight this like when we were in Michigan," He demands, moving from the bed and taking all of his warmth with him. Throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, he tosses me his hoodie, my favorite one, and holds out his hand, taking my books and computer from me. "We're going to make some tea, settle down at the dining table, and get this shit done, okay?"

"Okay, I can agree to these terms," I can't help but agree, seeing the soft smile he's using on me, pulling his sweatshirt over my head and throwing my hair up. "We've got this."

"Hell yeah we do," Lu assures, leaving me to follow him as he exits his room, sprawling all of my things across the table, only pausing when another male voice interrupts the silence of the room from the couch.

"Moose? Mayday?" Jack's voice is the one to call, his head ducking up over the back of the couch, game controller in hand and brows in the sky. "What are you two doing up?"

"Mae has a midterm in the morning so we're going to study for it," Lu answers, turning to me, "Want to grab the snacks and drinks? You need fuel if we're going to survive this."

"Yes sir," I answer with a mock salute, wandering away with the boys chattering in the back ground. It's on my return that I pause, seeing both boys sitting at the table with their noses in my textbook. "Boys?"

"Can't have my future sister-in-law bombing an exam now can I? Who else is going to patch me up when I get into another fight?" And while it's a joke, you can see in his body language how much he does care.

"What fight? I thought that brawl with Aho wasn't a fight?" I can't help but chirp, his eyes rolling and Luke laughs, pulling me down to sit next to him, his lips meeting my forehead.

"Yeah, you think you're so funny Doc, now tell me, what's the golgi apparatus?"

[biisexualemma]

pining pt.2. peter parker

word count: 3.3k

warnings: explosion, some injury detail i think but not a lot or graphic at all, soft, fluff, sweet interactions

requested: yesyesyes

plot: you can't keep your crush on peter a secret any longer

a/n: sorry it took me, not even exaggerating, three years to write and publish this, that is truly so uncool of me and i deeply apologise to those of you who asked for this so long ago. anyway it's here and i am happy with it so i hope you like it!

part 1 / masterlist

"i bombed that exam," you huffed, your face screwing up in frustration as you walked side by side with m.j. down the school hallway. "did you see question sixteen? what was that about? i don't think we even studied that this semester?" you were annoyed with yourself, because you knew you hadn't studied as hard as you should have for that exam.

"yeah, i saw it, i just took the same exam," m.j. furrowed her brows at you but you were too in your own head to care about her sarcasm. being m.j.'s friend for so many years meant that you tended to tune out the sarcasm that was always dripping from her voice. "i wouldn't worry about it, you always do well, it's like your thing. being smart at everything."

you shook your head, you were convinced you messed up that paper.

ever since your late night netflix session with peter, you'd been even more in your head than usual. you hated being this distracted. it was only because you had to keep your feelings to yourself, you had never been very good at keeping secrets, and this was too big a secret to be keeping to yourself. it was driving you crazy that he didn't know.

 it was now monday, you hadn't seen peter since you fell asleep on him and he snuck back out your window. you had woken up the next day in an empty bed, with a text message from peter saying he had to run and that he'd see you in school.

you hadn't heard from him again, and you had yet to see him in school. you had to tell him. you had to tell him or you felt like you might combust. and you had finals to be worrying over, not a boy. if you got it off your chest, whether he felt the same or not, you knew you could at least focus better on your day to day. you were tired of avoiding him and pushing him away to keep a secret. he had to know.

-

you had colluded with michelle during gym and she, too, thought you coming clean to peter was a good idea. you were pretty sure she was just sick of talking to you and you not taking anything in that she was saying, which was happening more and more often, so you understood. 

only, you hadn't actually seen peter all day to speak to him.

you spotted a familiar mop of black hair across the hallway at the end of the day, jogging over to meet ned at his locker. if anyone would know of peter's whereabouts it was his righthand man.

"ned!" you touched his shoulder, approaching him from behind, startling him a little as he jumped away from your touch. "sorry--" you apologised quickly when he mumbled shit y/n under his breath. "i just wanted to know if you'd seen peter?"

his face contorted for a second before furrowing his brows. "uh, peter? he just left-- i think he said something about mr stark? i don't know," you could tell he was lying, ned was always covering for peter, but you didn't push him. you just nodded.

"right, well, if you see him, tell him i need to talk to him?" he nodded and you backed away from him to leave. "i'll see you tomorrow!" you called, whipping out your phone and dialling peter's number as you moved down the crowded hallway. 

it rang out, you let out an exasperated sigh. why was he all of sudden so hard to track down? you waited for the beep before leaving a message.

pete, call me back i need to talk to you-- can you meet me at delmar's? i'll be there at seven-- just call me

the one time you were actively seeking for him and he was nowhere to be found. you huffed, dragging yourself home to put some effort into studying before you'd meet up with peter later.

-

you tucked your hands in your pockets to conserve some of your warmth in the cold new york air, your feet speeding along the pavement as you took the short walk to delmar's. you had gotten a text from peter shortly after you left your voicemail saying he'd meet you there.

you were regretting not wearing more layers as you shivered, making your way down the street, delmar's was in sight, the light shining from inside guided you towards the shop. you had been craving a sandwich all day. and you thought, even if your conversation with peter went terribly, at least you'd still get a sandwich from delamar's out of it. it wouldn't be all bad.

there was no sign of peter, but you approached anyway, waiting outside in hopes he wouldn't make you wait in the cold much longer. you checked the time on your phone, it was a few minutes past seven. you were sure he'd be here soon.

you tucked your phone away in your pocket, lifting your eyes up, widening them when you saw a commotion in the bank across the street. your mouth hung open. you made out one of the figures to be spider-man, he was swinging around, fighting a group of-- of-- avengers? you squinted, watching the fight unfold with curiosity. you'd never seen the web-slinger in action before, you were intrigued. you couldn't wait 'till peter got here, he'd love this.

"hey-- mr delmar-- have you seen this--?" just as you called into the shop for the owner to come check this out, there was a loud shattering noise, causing you to jolt in shock. before you knew what was happening, half the shop was on fire, you thrown backwards into the wreckage.

peter watched the weapon fire, near splitting mr delmar's shop in two from across the street. his eyes widened in panic, abandoning his previous task and running over to his favourite sandwich shop that was now in flames. he remembered his plans to meet you here at seven-- he hoped you'd been late arriving.

you groaned, your head splitting, ears ringing and you could hardly make out what was happening with your vision distorted by a cloud of grey smoke. you spasmed into a cough fit as you breathed in the smoke surrounding you, instinctively you pulled at the sleeve of your jacket and covered your mouth in an attempt to keep your airways clear.

"mr delmar?" you tried to call out, your voice muffled behind the material covering it, pushing yourself up off the ground that was now covered in rubble.

"you alright, mr delmar?" peter checked in, his arm wrapped around the older yank as he guided him out of the wreckage with a level of care reserved for the owner of his favourite sandwich shop. he nodded, he hurled over trying to take deep breaths, his hands propped onto his knees. "was it just you in there?"

he shook his head. peter thought to you immediately before mr delmar even said anything. "y/n," he spluttered out, coughing up the smoke he'd inhaled. "a regular-- she was standing right there," he had pointed to where the door used to be but now in it's place was a gaping hole. peter was half listening to mr delmar who was now wailing about the state of his store, bystanders had started to crowd and sirens sounded in the distance. but this was all background noise to peter now.

you could just start to make out the floor beneath you as the smoke began to ease up a bit, you guided yourself to the commotion you could hear coming from just ahead of you. "mr delmar?" you tried calling again, hoping he wasn't caught under any of the rubble somewhere, hoping he was ok. "mr del-- ow!" you looked down at your feet where you had tripped when you heard something yelp back at you. the bodega cat, covered in soot and dirt. "hi, kitty," you cooed, leaning down and scooping him up in your arms as you continued to navigate your way forward. "have you seen mr delmar?" you spoke to the cat, who only meowed in response. "right."

"y/n?" you heard your name being called, your ears pricking up, the cat in your arms attention had been caught too. "y/n, are you in there?" you knew that voice.

"peter?!" you called back, coughing as you inhaled more of the smoke surrounding you. "pete?"

the cat cried again. a faucet shot open across the room, you let out a yelp at the noise as water began to blast everywhere. "where are you?" you called out again, losing your patience and your nerve a bit now.

"y/n?" the voice was suddenly right in front of you and then before you could react a body thudded into yours. you yelped again, the cat also startled, and stumbled backwards, feeling two hands grip your arms, keeping you in your place.

arms clothed in red and blue, your eyes trailed upwards, widening as they looked over at the superhero now standing in front of you also covered in soot and dirt. "spider-man?" 

there was a loud crack that came from above where you stood, your eyes trailing up to the ceiling where the plaster had started to crumble from the damage. peter pulled you towards him, forcing you to duck down and covering you with himself as part of the ceiling fell down and would have fallen on top of you. "c'mon, we need to move," he guided you out of the building, one arm wrapped round your shoulders, his free hand covering your head.

you took a deep breath as you finally exited the building, back into the cold new york air, clutching the cat in your arms still. your head was spinning, he shifted to stand in front of you, his hands placed on each of your shoulders. your eyes were wide, brows furrowed together, your breathing growing heavier as the superhero checked you over for injuries.

"how're you feelin'?" he asked, one hand gripping your chin as he guided your face to turn to one side and then the other. you stood with your mouth slightly open, breath fanning out in front of you in the cold air, you nodded slightly, kind of coherently. his eyes, or the eye shapes cut out from his mask, squinted at you. "y/n, i need you to use your words."

"yeah," you spoke softly. "i'm ok-- i think," you shuddered, the only thing keeping you warm was the cat you clung to your chest. maybe you were just confused when you thought you'd heard peter before. maybe you had hit your head, or the smoke made you a bit delirious, or maybe the ringing distorted your hearing. that must be it. 

"my cat!" mr delmar's voice pulled you out of your thoughts and spider-man's hands slipped away from you as mr delmar lifted up his cat up out of your arms. he wrapped a free arm around you, pulling you into a quick hug, giving your shoulder a squeeze. "thank you, i'm glad you're ok."

"yeah, you too, mr delmar," he gave your arm a rub, before releasing you. "sorry about your shop," you felt bad. you knew it was out of your control but you couldn't help but feel for the man who had served you sandwiches nearly every day for the past ten years and who now had to rebuild his livelihood.

"no one got hurt, you're ok, i'm ok, cat's ok. we're ok," you nodded, he was right. "thanks to this guy," he grabbed spider-man by the shoulder, giving him a squeeze just like he had done with you. "thank you, spider-man."

"of course," he patted mr delmar on the back, beginning to feel the eyes of the bystanders surrounding this situation and the sirens growing closer. "listen, i gotta' dash, people to save, muggers to stop, you know the drill."

mr delmar began ushering him away, insisting that he go back out and get back to work. you watched the man in the suit carefully, standing still as he back to back away from you both. he gave you a slight nod before shooting off into the skyline again.

- 

you were startled by a soft knock on your window, your head jolted towards the noise, spotting the familiar brown mop of hair crouched outside on the fire escape. you let him in, he climbed in clumsily with a sense of urgency. "hey, i've been calling you,"

"sorry," you mumbled, retreating to your bed where you had been ready to crash only minutes ago. 

"i saw... i saw the news," he ducked trying to get a good look at you but you were avoiding his stare. "something came up-- did you-- were you-- are you--"

"i'm fine," you nodded, pulling at the hem of your shirt, sitting yet again, uncomfortably, in front of your best friend in your pyjamas. "no one got hurt."

peter moved to sit next to you, eyes focused on your face and why you wouldn't look at him. "are you sure?" his eyebrows furrowed together, eyes travelling to where you had your hands resting on your lap, fingers fidgeting. he worried about you. "hey, talk to me."

"i'm sure," you nodded slightly, turning so you could meet his eyes and reassure him. your hands still fidgeting he noticed. you shot him a small smile. "pete, it's ok. i'm just tired, it's been a really long day."

he remembered you calling for him earlier, the strain in your voice, the panic he felt when he couldn't find you straight away. he remembered the way you looked at him, with big eyes, full of relief and a hint of confusion.

he nodded, releasing a deep breath. "i'm sorry i didn't show at delmar's-- something came up-- it was stupid and i'm sorry i wasn't-- that i couldn't--  and i should've just--"

"peter, i love you," you cut him short. you couldn't hold your breath around him any longer. life was too short for keeping secrets. "that's what i wanted to talk to you about at delmar's-- before... everything... and spiderman."

peter's mouth hung open, his eyes locked with yours. your eyes were soft and languid, his wide and stunned, there was no denying you were awake this time. "what?" he spoke barely above a whisper, unable to think of what else to say.

"i met spiderman," you clarified. "he reminded me of you in a weird way actually," you hummed, not breaking eye contact with peter who was sat closer to you than he remembered being when he first sat down. his palms grew sweaty, he rubbed them against his pants in an attempt to calm down. "which was weirdly comforting amidst the chaos."

"oh-- that's cool i guess," he spoke in a bit of a daze. he hadn't expected you to come right out and say any of this, his head was in a bit of a spin. he had been waiting to hear you say those words again since the other night, and now here you were saying them, to him, and he couldn't think of anything to say back. 

"you don't have to say it back, or feel it i guess-- i've had a lot of time to think about this and this is the first you're hearing of it because i suppress my feelings until i feel like my heads going to explode," you were rambling at this point, a little nervous that he hadn't directly addressed it yet. you didn't expect him to feel the same way, you had seen him around liz, it was obvious to everyone that he'd been crushing on her forever. you had to tell him for your own peace of mind, you had finals to finish without the weight of this secret on your shoulders. "and my head was about to explode, pete, i'm not even sure i passed my history quiz today because i couldn't get my mind off of all of this. which is so stupid."

"you're not stupid, not even a little bit," peter shook his head. "and this isn't the first i'm hearing of this, either."

you expression soured, disgruntled and a little annoyed, "oh god, did mj tell you? that's so not cool, we talked about this-- i told her i would--"

"no, no, not mj," you paused, your expression unfolding, head tilting slightly as you hung on his every word. peter's eyes flickered down to your lips where they'd hung open, slightly parted after his interruption. "the other night, you were half asleep, before i left. you said it then."

you sighed. "well, that's kind of embarrassing."

he shook his head. "no, not embarrassing," his eyes glued to your face, unable to look away, the anticipation and a bit of confusion lining your expression. "confusing and complicated, but not embarrassing."

"confusing and complicated," you repeated, eyes trailing away from where they'd been looked on his for quite a while. "got it, kinda," maybe he was right, maybe this was confusing and complicated and maybe you had just opened up a can of worms. you couldn't take it back now that you'd said it, and you couldn't determine whether you wanted to or not.

"you're my best friend, is what i meant," he tried to clarify but it wasn't really helping. "and i didn't let myself think about you that way because i didn't want to ruin anything," he continued. your eyes unable to shift away from him again, your chest felt like it might sink the way he was going, you had prepared yourself for this, it was ok. "until the other night and now i haven't been able to think of you in any other way."

you felt your cheeks grow warm, eyes flickering between his, his darting down to your lips again uncontrollably this time. "what are you saying, pete?" you spoke barely above a whisper, unable to will yourself to speak any louder for fear you might break the bubble you two currently sat in. you were no longer thinking about your history quiz, or delmar's or even that you were sat in front of your best friend in your pyjamas. you only thought of peter and his soft brown eyes that never left your face.

"i really want to kiss you," he matched the level of your voice exactly, feeling yourself drawn closer to him. "so bad i feel like my head might explode," a small smile cracked onto his lips but you only caught a glimpse before you pressed your lips to his. his lips were soft but desperate, his hands moved to your waist, tugging a little to urge you to move closer, and you did until you were close enough to be sitting on his lap.

you had to retreat to catch your breath but you could feel your face flushed, running a hand through your hair, trailing down to touch your lips. one hand remained on your waist and the other slipped down to land on your thigh, slightly exposed from the bed shorts you were wearing. you didn't think it'd feel quite this good, his lips, his hands, his eyes on you. this was your best friend peter but this was different and it was good.

"how's your head feeling?" you breathed out a laugh, your lips curving upwards into a small smile.

"better," he gave a small nod, mimicking the smile on your lips. "yours?"

"a little dizzy," you admitted, never losing the curve in your lips even when peter's faltered. "in a good way, not a concussion way," you reassured, his features relaxed slightly at this confirmation, quietening his mind.

he leaned forward just a touch, your bodies still pretty entangled, his forehead leaning against yours and letting himself sit there with you for a minute or two. "listen, there's something else i should probably tell you before we do this.."

you retracted ever so slightly, remaining close to him still. you nodded gently, "what is it?"

"ok, remember you said earlier that spider-man reminded you of me?" you nodded again, eyebrows tugged together in thought. you just kissed him and he's thinking about spider-man? "well that would be because i am spider-man."

taglist:

@wildflower-cherry

@xoxohollands

@shunna

@eridanuswave

[mixelation]

thinking about tori's chunin exam (the second one) again

one thing i want to play with is tori just having a completely different mindset from everyone, especially when it comes to the point of tests. because her origin story is being a high-strung pre med student, she is acutely aware that tests frequently have more to do with how you understand the exam rather than the material. like yeah, you have to know your shit, but you're unlikely to get into the top percentile unless you ALSO understand the game.

and growing up in oto just reinforces this. you think orochimaru is testing you on the thing he asked you to do? no!! there's seven other secret tests baked into the thing! look underneath the underneath!!

so anyway, tori is very aware that she's being tested on her ninja skills, BUT ALSO on a bunch of other stuff. second round survival portion? you mean her being able to size up potential opponents and, if she plays her cards right, pick who gets into the tournament? why would she try to finish first.... she needs to stalk other contestants and see what they do.

the tournament part she's been explicitly told is for her to show off for Konoha. tori's normal style.... doesn't really loan itself to showing off. so she goes in with a premade plan for a Very Cool Looking Convoluted Jutsu, and now she's shopping for the perfect genin to unleash it on. she is going to pick off genin she DOESN'T think will work with her plan. so she's gone into multiple levels of Off The Rails here

shisui at team 2: they're testing your ability to function in an unknown environment. your goal should be to get to the finish line while minimizing damage

tori: yeah but, see, you can also PICK your opponents for the tournament

shisui: i guess that's technically true. you might be able to pick off a stronger opponent in a setting where you can work as a team, and that will benefit you in the tournament. but you should only attempt that if the opportunity arises and also points strongly in your favor

tori: i mean if you plan enough, you can make anything happen :)

shisui: but it shouldn't be a priority

tori: besides, you don't want to pick off the strongest possible opponents, because the point of the tournament isn't even to win. it's to show off. so you want to shop for genin whose fighting styles are impressive enough it looks good when you beat them, but that you can exploit and--

team 2: what

shisui: tori PLEASE stop giving advice. they are genin

anyway, tori can bias the tournament to a certain TYPE of genin (for her grand plan she wants kiri kids with swords, which is like half the entrants) but she can't seed the tournament. so she unleashes her Cool Convoluted Jutsu second round and then in the finals is like. whelp. i did with i came here to do.

finalist genin: your trick won't work twice!!

tori: cool

tori: (hits him directly in the head with a bamboo pole)

anyway the Mood of this whole arc is that tori is silently freaking out and high anxiety the entire time because she's been given like seventeen goals (win the tournament, but do it in a specific way, also don't melt people that's bad PR--)

but from the outside it DOES look like she just played the whole tournament like a mildly friendly supervillain

shisui, whose previous concept of "young genius" was just "beast modes the challenges," NOT "itachi playing 5D chess in his spare time for no reason": TORI WHAT ARE YOU DOING

kisame: lmao. you're in over your head with that one, kid

shisui: ???

[nvoirs]

𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘮𝘣

Summary: An after party for exams is missed because of salient reasons! Definitely nothing more..

ꔫ

Disclaimers: MDNI 18+ only, Fuckboy Leon au, Unprotected sex, Both reader and Leon are in their twenties, cream pie, degrading language, shower sex. Literally this is written bad.. I haven't written in months ok! not proofread because I cannot be bothered. Requests are back open.

⠀ꔫ

An after party was being held as a celebration for everyone completing their exams by a very well known individual in your year, almost everyone was going to it minus the nerds but it had definitely been at least an hour since the party started. Your friends were probably wondering where the heck you were, because it wasn’t like you to show up late to anything.

Leon had decided to let himself into your dorm room, thankfully Claire wasn’t in when he did so otherwise it would have caused a whole lot of controversy. You see Leon and you had been fucking around for the past few months or so, yes quite literally fucking and as you thought about it now you couldn’t help but pinch yourself. Because how did you, a well mannered, straight A goody shoes get with someone like Leon? Claire was very well aware of the fact that you two were sleeping with each other, she’d make jokes telling you guys to not “mess around near her bed or stuff” before leaving for her class.

Leon was notoriously known around campus as a fuckboy. Definitely not something to be proud of, but you didn’t expect anything more than having your back blown by him every time he’d approach you. You wouldn't even call it friends with benefits, because you and him had never just hung out without him leaving you all sweaty and flustered on your bedspread telling you he’d “catch you later” basically telling you the next time you��d get to fuck.

So when he decided to let himself into your dorm room while you were in the shower, you didn’t expect someone to fling open the shower curtain exposing your naked body to whoever was behind it.

“What the fu-! Leon, what the hell are you doing?” You gasped, covering your breasts and trying to squeeze your legs together.

“Relax sweetheart, I’ve seen it all before you don’t have to hide from me.” The shit eating grin made you sigh before removing your arms from your naked body.

“How did you get in here? What if Claire was home! Wha-!” He’d pressed a palm to your mouth muffling your yelling.

“I just wanted to see you, that's all.” He shrugged his shoulders.

You slapped his hand from your mouth sighing, “Leon if you wanted to see me you wouldnt come charging into my bathroom while I’m taking a shower, you wanted to fuck me admit it or your getting nothing.”

“Oh, that’s easy then I wanted to fuck you ok? God those other girls just don’t know how fuck like you do.”

You cringed at his words but laughed, “Ok I forgive you, but don’t say those words ever again, its cheesy as fuck got it?”

“Deal, so can I join you?”

“Lock the damn door first.”

“Oh your right, my bad.”

He quickly shuffled to the half cracked open door to the bathroom, snapping it shut before making sure it was locked.

He's taking his clothes off before you know it, and hopping into the shower your back to him as you reach for the soap bottle.

“Let me help you with that princess, I’ll help scrub your back.”

“Thanks.” You replied dryly, rolling your eyes at his attempt to slow things before they got too heated.

He was humming, rubbing the soap into your back and massaging your shoulders making you release a quiet moan.

“Hm, what was that?” he teased, finger ghosting over your clit.

“Nothing! Just help me wash up. I can't be late, and why aren’t you coming anyways?”

He laughed, “These types of parties aren’t my thing, they're more or less for nerds sorry to shake your pretty little head, princess.”

He really needed to stop calling you that, it made your hole clench around nothing, cunt beginning to dribble slick out.

“Yeah whatever, I’ve got better grades than you at least.” Your voice cracked at your last word, as Leon began to stroke your clit causing you to buck your hips upwards in shock.

“I knew you’d like it.” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath making you shiver in delight.

“God I’m going to cream pie you and make you walk around the nerd party with my cum inside of you.”

You moaned at the thought of it, “Please” you whined grinding your ass on his now erect cock.

“Fuck, I’m going to give it to you so hard just wait.”

He rubbed your pussy this time, smearing your arousal across your clit and entrance. He slipped one finger inside, began to push it in and out and looked at your turned back for a reaction.

You cried out in pleasure and pain as he inserted a second finger beginning to finger yourself open.

“Mhm yeah just like that, stretch me out”

He growled in response before sliding his fingers out of your soaked hole.

“Mhm Leon help a girl out would you?”

Rubbing your ass against his hard cock, you arched your back like a feline whining.

“Help you with what exactly? Speak up.” He growled becoming impatient from the sheer like of not being inside you right now.

“Help fill me up please, need your cock massaging my insides and stretching me out.”

“Well fuck if you insist.” Without any warning he parted your pussy lips and pressed the tip of his cock into your hole making you moan.

“Fuck princess, your literally sucking me in god you can't live without this fat cock breeding your pussy can you? Leaving a fat load inside of you”

You mewled in response, as you pushed your ass backwards, forcing your pussy to swallow him all.

The warm water cascading down your back and dripping down where you and Leon were connected made you feel drunk.

Still cockwarming Leon he gently tugged on your hair, slapping one of your hardened nipples.

“Aren't you going to be late to your little party.” He chuckled.

“Ah don't care about it, anymore.” You winced from the stretch your pussy took sliding such a fat cock into your tiny little pussy.

“Well this is my way of celebrating your end of exams.” He grinned, beginning to move.

He grinded his dick inside of your cunt hitting your g spot repeatedly making your cry out.

Leon reached out to cup your tits in both hands, massaging them both before pinching the nipples.

“Such pretty tits.” He mumbled. “Prettiest I've seen, and I've seen a lot.”

“Leon.” You groaned. “Don't have to brag about being a slut.”

He groaned as your pussy squeezed around him, close to milking him. “I think you like that I’m a slut, squeezing around me so tight like that.”

“I’m going to cum, go faster.”

He quickened his pace, but his hips stuttered as you came on his cock. The orgasm aftershocks leaving you in a frozen state stuck to the shower wall. Your face became flustered as Leon thrusted his cock in and out of your wet hole, the squelching sounds echoing off the walls.

“That’s right, cream my cock baby.” 

His hips faltered before stilling completely, his thick, warm cum filling you up nicely. You felt woozy but full, Leon’s cum dripping out of you.

“Nice cream pie you’ve got there.” He slapped your ass lightly.

“Leon!”

“You missed the nerd gathering.”

“This was better.”

“Oh?”

“Now turn the damn water off before we use all the water on the whole of campus.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

ꔫ