#college au

[justabigoldnerd]

This is literally just the plot of "To Find Someone To Talk To, Who Likes The Way I Am" LMAO

I got too excited while playing chess and told my opponent that I was going to slit his throat and slaughter him like a hog. something to work on for next time

[lyn31]

First Time (Explicit)

Note:

As it say, this is actually just the extended/explicit version of my other short fanfic, First Time, so If you want less explicit and much more emotional focus, it's there! and if you're looking for something more explicit, hey welcome lol it's nothing crazy ofc, I just got carried away as usual.... anyway! Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader College AU, smut, first time, oral, fingering, penetration, teasing.

Ao3 link

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Zayne’s hands are warm, firm, kneading you in a way that sends a shiver through you. He’s touched you before, but never like this—never with such focus, like he’s trying to commit every curve to memory. Your breath catches, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a sound. Not yet.

Zayne’s touch trail up your body, his touch firm as he finally palms your chest. You exhale shakily, arching into his hands as he kneads, his thumbs rolling over your nipples.

“Really into my chest, aren’t you?” you tease, voice breathy but playful.

Zayne hums, his fingers slipping beneath the lace. “And?” His tone is dry, almost unaffected—but the way his thumbs keep rubbing against you betrays him.

His fingers slip beneath the fabric, unhooking your bra with an ease that makes your breath hitch—like he's done this in his head a dozen times before. When the lace falls away, his gaze drops, and for a second, he just stares. His fingers flex slightly, his breathing slows—like he’s seeing something he’s wanted for too long. Heat coils in your stomach, your skin burning under the weight of his attention. You expect him to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers reach out, rolling your nipple between them, watching every tiny reaction you give him.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your teasing edge, but it’s difficult when he’s touching you like this—slow, focused, like he’s savoring the feeling. Then he leans in, dragging his tongue over the peak before closing his mouth around it, sucking lightly.

A sharp inhale escapes you.

Whatever teasing remark you had dies the moment his tongue flicks over you, warm and wet and thorough. He lingers, taking his time, switching between licking and sucking, occasionally biting just enough to make your stomach tighten. His other hand isn’t idle either, fingers rolling and pinching your other nipple in tandem with his mouth.

A whimper escapes you, and you feel him smirk against your skin.

Your hands tangle in his hair, trying to keep some semblance of control, but it’s useless. He’s relentless. He alternates between soft and sharp, lazy licks and teasing pinches, his pace just slow enough to make you feel everything. Your body writhes beneath him, thighs pressing together in search of friction, but it isn’t enough.

“Zayne,” you breathe, voice caught somewhere between frustration and need.

His tongue flicks over your nipple again, unhurried and intent.

You glare weakly, but the effect is lost when your breath stutters at the sharp tug of his fingers. His teasing would be unbearable if you weren’t so desperate already.

Your hands slide down, tracing over his chest, lower, until you reach the hem of his shirt. You push at it, fumbling slightly, and he huffs a laugh before pulling back just long enough to yank it over his head. Your gaze drops instinctively, tracing the lines of his stomach, the sharp dip of his hips. Your fingers trail over him, nails scratching lightly, and you don’t miss the way his stomach tenses under your touch.

Then your hand moves lower, pressing against the outline of his erection through his pants.

His breath stutters.

You do it again, dragging your fingers slowly, palming him through the fabric, and he groans, the sound low and rough. The noise sends heat straight through you, your own body burning with need.

Zayne exhales sharply, his grip on your waist tightening as he matches your movements—His hand dips between your legs, the pressure teasing through the fabric.

You gasp.

The pressure is just right, firm but teasing, matching the slow drag of your hand over him. Your hips move instinctively, chasing the friction, and Zayne groans again, pressing against you harder, his touch growing more deliberate.

He lets you tease him, his breath growing heavier, his grip on your waist tightening—but just as your fingers tighten around him, he catches your wrist, stopping you in an instant.

You barely have time to react before his fingers are back on you, pressing down, rubbing slow circles that make your breath hitch. Your hips jerk toward his hand, needy, desperate, and he watches you—eyes dark, lips parted.

“Too much?” he asks, voice low, controlled.

You can barely form words, your body pulsing with need. Instead, you shake your head, hips moving insistently against his touch. Your hands tug at your waistband, fumbling, desperate to get rid of it.

Zayne exhales sharply, then helps you, urgency matching yours. The moment your pants hit the floor, his gaze drags over you, eyes dark and heated. He licks his lips, and you expect a teasing remark, but he doesn’t speak. He just looks—hungry, focused.

You open your mouth to say something, but then his fingers part your folds, sliding against your bare skin.

The words die in your throat.

His fingers stroke over you, teasing, parting your folds as he watches your face. Then he presses in, sinking one finger inside, then another, stretching you just enough to make you shudder. His pace is slow at first, exploring, feeling you out.

Then he lowers his head.

His mouth finds you before you can react, tongue gliding over sensitive skin, heat sinking deep into your core. His tongue flicks over your clit, slow at first, then more insistent as his fingers move inside you, curling just right. A broken moan escapes you, loud and unfiltered, and you feel his smirk against your skin.

He doesn’t stop. If anything, he doubles down, sucking at your clit just as his fingers thrust deeper, setting a rhythm that has you unraveling far too fast. Your hands fly to his hair, tugging hard, but he doesn’t waver, doesn’t let up—just keeps going, building the pleasure higher and higher until your whole body tenses, aching for release.

It hits you before you can stop it.

Your orgasm crashes through you, blinding and relentless, and Zayne doesn’t let up. He draws it out, tongue still moving, hands still gripping you, until the pleasure crests into something too sharp. A whimper slips out, your body twisting as you push at his head, and only then does he relent—though not without one last slow lick that makes you jolt.

When he pulls back, his lips are slick, his pupils dark and dilated, his breathing uneven. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, gaze flicking up to meet yours. For a second, he just looks at you—wrecked, trembling, his—before his fingers trace slow, aimless patterns along your thigh. Your heart is still pounding when you hear the crinkle of foil.

Your eyes flicker open just in time to see him rolling the condom on, his length standing hard and flushed. You swallow, heat curling through you at the sight, at the way his jaw clenches as he strokes himself once, twice.

Then he’s hovering over you again, his shaft pressing against your entrance.

A hesitation lingers in the air, heavy and unspoken. The teasing, the urgency—it all slows, funneled into this single moment. You look at him, meeting his gaze, and it’s like the whole world narrows to just the two of you.

His chest rises and falls, breath shallow. His grip on your waist tightens, like he’s grounding himself. For the first time tonight, there’s no teasing in his expression, no restraint—just want. But beneath it, something else.

He exhales, pressing his forehead to yours. He doesn’t ask the question aloud, but you hear it anyway.

Your answer is silent—fingers sliding up his arms, gripping tight, hips tilting in wordless permission.

His throat bobs as he swallows, and then he kisses you—slow, deep, like he’s savoring you, like he’s committing this to memory. And then, finally—he pushes in.

Your breath catches, nails digging into his back as he stretches you open. He groans, low and guttural, his grip on your hips tightening as he buries himself inside you.

The first few thrusts are slow, measured, like he’s holding himself back. But then your hips move, meeting his, and that restraint snaps.

Zayne curses under his breath, pulling back only to thrust in harder, deeper.

Your moan echoes in the room.

His pace picks up, his body pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your skin. The pleasure builds with every movement, every snap of his hips. And when his hand slides between you again, fingers finding your clit, it’s enough to push you over the edge.

Your climax crashes into you, and he follows, his rhythm falters as he groans against your skin, burying himself deep as your body pulses around him.

For a while, neither of you move—just breathing, just feeling, the warmth of him grounding you in the moment.

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Notes:

And now time for me to disappear again! :D oh and for anyone that likes this series, I did write 2 other short fanfic in one is about Scavenger Hunt event and the other is well this, if you didn't already check it out, go ahead!

[anomalyaly]

Sebastian Sallow College AU Headcanons

This is my version of Sebastian based on a modern college AU I've been working on. It's been a long time since I've graduated college so I'm sorry if this doesn't align with how things currently are. Also, this is based on the American college system. SFW.

📖The boy is a mess. He has too many things on his mind at any given time and doesn't know how to prioritize, so he has no method of organization except to throw everything on the floor. "It's organized chaos" he says.

📖He's constantly holed away studying - he's a pre-med major, after all, and his classes have only gotten more difficult with each year. It doesn't help that each one of his notes is scattered in a pile somewhere on his desk. Or under his mattress. Or in his pillow case. Or on top of the toilet. Or in the shower.

📖Speaking of being a pre-med major, he's actually studying Biomedical Engineering and he will correct you every time you refer to him as "pre-med."

📖He checks out books from the library that have nothing to do with his major. He keeps forgetting that he has, so he renews them the max amount of times and then forgets to return them. He always has an overdue library book fee added to his tuition and almost doesn't graduate because he hasn't returned them (the librarian hates him - surprise surprise).

📖He's paying his way through college with a heaping load of student loans and lives in one of the smallest dorms on campus. Poor thing is estranged from his uncle and his ill twin sister (for reasons that are spoilers).

📖He shares a room with Ominis, whose side of the room is always immaculate. Ominis tends to ignore the mess (regretfully) except when Sebastian leaves Monster energy drink cans on his side. In which case, he will yell at Sebastian for an entire week straight. The whole hall can hear him screaming. He tends to stay out of the room most of the time and only returns to sleep because of this.

📖Sebastian is one of those guys who leaves his clothes everywhere. And I mean everywhere. He doesn't know the difference between dirty and clean and has to do the sniff test to figure it out. He doesn't plan on leaving the dorm anyway, except to eat or go to the library (or his regular coffee shop), so he almost exclusively wears sweatpants stained with grease from pizza and 3 day old t-shirts.

📖His hair is always a mess.

📖He's an undergrad TA for a lower level chemistry class. He doesn't teach the class, but he helps out with grading papers and such. He says he's only doing it for elective credits, but he secretly enjoys teaching.

📖He likes to blast his music TOO loud because he says it "helps him study." He's gotten written up for noise complaints multiple times.

📖He has one starchy gray sheet and a flat pillow for his bed. He constantly has back pain as he usually sleeps with a book shoved underneath them (or a random array of socks without pairs).

📖Yes, he does wear reading glasses.

📖He's a caffeine addict (hence, Monster cans on the floor).

📖He doesn't frequent parties, but it's not as though he's never been to one. He and Garreth used to stir up trouble at them back when he would go. Literally. I wouldn't take a sip of those drinks they're handing you at the door.

📖He has a reputation for being a troublemaker (mostly due to his and Garreth's antics at parties) which makes people thing that he's lazy. But his ambition keeps him up there on the Dean's List every semester. People still don't understand how, and there are whispers about him cheating or hiring others to do his work for him.

📖Being a TA and with his naturally flirty personality, people assume that he's a player. A bunch of the Freshmen girls have a crush on him. He pretends to have no idea.

📖He's not a player, he just hasn't had a solid relationship because he hasn't met anyone who he's been able to trust with all his uh...problems. But when he does, the boy is GONE.

📖He cleans up nicely once he finds a reason to impress someone. He will go from cocky to making a complete fool of himself once he realizes he's smitten and will do his damndest to make everything perfect.

📖His perfectionism mostly comes out in his work (top marks in all of his main classes, obviously) and that will definitely carry over with the person he ends up in a relationship with. Everything must be perfect and nothing less (he will mentally beat himself up about it if it's not).

📖Ominis will pick up on it because suddenly Sebastian's side of the room will be immaculate. And for some reason he keeps asking him how to tie a tie??

Anyways, that's all for now!

I'll probably have more later tbh

[mischievousmoony]

I’m blushing so hard at frat boy James!! What about the first time she comes over and meets the guys outside a party

hope i've done your idea justice! ty for requesting

𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎

⟢ frat boy!james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.9k ⟢ warnings/tags: references to drinking, technically american!james potter and american!marauders

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"It'll just take a minute," James promises. "We'll be in and out."

With his hand in yours, he leads you through the door, passing under the large Greek letters as you cross the threshold.

You have been seeing James for a month and a half. You never thought you'd be interested in a frat guy—you've never even step foot in one of their houses until now—but James has proven to be the opposite of what you thought a frat guy would be like.

James is a total sweetheart. Possibly the most thoughtful and genuine guy you've ever dated. He makes you feel special, always remembering the little things like your favorite flower or your drink orders at all your favorite places. He's attentive without ever being overbearing. But honestly, you don't think you could see him that way if you tried, always loving every bit of attention he gives you.

Today, he's taking you on a study date. He remembered that you were complaining about an upcoming exam in a class he's already taken, so he's grabbing his old notes and sitting you down in a quiet corner of the library so that he can help you study.

James would already have you set up in the library on the coziest chair with your favorite hot drink from the cafe if he didn't forget his old notebook in his room—which he felt rather sheepish about leaving behind.

So, here you are. James asked if you wanted to wait in the car, but you were curious to see the inside of one of these things. You half expected to see solo cups littering the floor, a pong table in place of a coffee table, and maybe even a few hungover frat guys strewn about the living room still sobering up from last nights antics.

You were a little surprised to find out that it was rather clean. You know from James that there was indeed a party here last night, but apparently they clean up nicely.

Although, you’re right about there being a pong table. But it is folded up and leaning against a wall for future use.

James guides you towards the stairs, but before he can even mount the first step someone appears in the foyer from a hall that you can see leads to the kitchen.

"Jamesie! Back so soon?" the boy cheers when his eyes land on his friend first. His eyes dart to you a second later, and something like recognition flashes in his expression. "Is this who I think it is?"

The boy has long, black hair that cascades just to his shoulders in soft waves, the kind that look effortless but too perfect to not be styled in some way. He stares at you with piercing blue eyes, making you feel oddly self-conscious, which might also have to do with the big smirk on his lips.

James squeezes your hand, sensing your nerves, but he'd bet money that they pale in comparison to his own. He's been nervous about bringing you around here. It doesn't have anything to do with you, or them (well, maybe he's a little worried they'll scare you off). You're really important to him, and so are they, and he's been putting a lot of pressure on introducing you to them. So, this unplanned visit has his palms sweating, which he's hoping you haven't noticed.

"Sirius," James greets his friend. "Yeah, this is Y/N."

Your eyes widen a fraction when Sirius immediately steps forward, taking your free hand to press a kiss to the back of your knuckles. "Hi, sweetheart, I've heard a lot about you. Truly, a lot. James has talked my ear off about you so I really feel like I'm meeting an old friend. I'm Sirius."

You feel heat rise to your cheeks but you're not alone, as James' own face turns rosy as he mutters a scolding "dude!" at his friend.

"Don't tell me you were just gonna sneak in without so much as a proper introduction." Sirius places a hand over his heart, a dramatic look of utter disbelief painting his face.

"We're just stopping by to get my notes. We have a very important study sesh to get to, didn't want to delay us too much," James explains, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"I promise it'll only be a short detour then. Pete and Remus are the only ones here anyway," Sirius says. His eyes dart to you again, something mischievous swimming within them. "We've all been dying to meet the girl that has our James so smitten. I mean, he's been going on and on and on. It's nice to finally have a pretty face to the name."

At Sirius’ words, you can’t help but crack a smirk as you peer up at James.

“Don’t look at me like that,” James murmurs, now rubbing his thumb across your knuckles the way he does when he gets anxious. James is sure the tips of his ears are bright red. Sirius will go to no end to embarrass him, but despite the fact that his heart might jump out of his chest at any second, James really only cares how you feel about the situation. James tilts his head toward you, lowering his voice to ask, "Are you up for meeting some of the guys?"

"Yeah," you say with a warm smile. "I'd love to meet your friends." And you really would. James talks a lot about them, too. Always reciting some story about all the shenanigans they've gotten into over the years.

You've been able to tell he's been overthinking bringing you to meet them. You get it—you're secure in James' feelings for you, so you know it's nothing personal. Plus, you were really nervous when James met your friends. To be honest, even though they were jokes, you're friends have made digs at frat guys before because of the stigma. You really wanted James and your friends to like each other, and thankfully, they really do and you had nothing to be worried about.

You hope that meeting his friends will have the same outcome and ease some of James' worries.

Sirius provides a generous introduction as you enter the kitchen. "Boys, it seems we have a very special guest in our midst this morning."

There are two guys sitting on kitchen stools who swivel around to greet you.

There's a lanky boy with mousy brown hair whose eyes dart back and forth between you and James before he directs a kind smile in your direction.

The other boy spins around mid-spoonful of a bowl of cereal. He abandons the utensil in his mouth to wave at you, his other hand occupied by the bowl resting in his palm.

Your eyes trail around the kitchen as James introduces you to them. It's rather large, as it would have to be to accommodate the large number of guys you assume live here.

You've also discovered the mess you thought you'd be stepping into. It seems that all of the discarded solo cups and beer cans have already been shoveled into a few trash bags, which are just about ready to burst at the seams as they wait by the back door to be taken out.

"I'm Peter," the boy with the cereal pipes up after returning his spoon to his bowl.

"Remus," the tall one introduces himself. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too," you say. "You know, I've never been in a frat house before. I take it you all live here?"

Remus is the only one who shakes his head. "Not a brother," he clarifies. "Just unlucky enough to have them as my best friends."

"Oh, you know you'd be lost without us," Sirius says, rolling his eyes playfully. "And it's not a frat house, it's a frat home," Sirius says very earnestly. Too add to his dramatics, he pulls Peter into a hug (which nearly makes him fall off his stool) and raps his fist against his back as he pretends to get emotional.

Peter's laughing as he shoves, Sirius off. "Alright, man," he says, swatting Sirius' hand away as he ruffles his hair.

"Sirius had beer for breakfast," Remus informs you to excuse Sirius' behavior.

"Hey, I only had two and I know you're not suggesting I'm a lightweight," Sirius points at Remus accusingly. "Anyway, I was just telling Y/N how often Jamesie muses about her."

Remus clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "Don't tease him too badly, Sirius.”

"It's not like it's not true," Peter shrugs, earning himself a glare from James.

You look up at James. His cheeks have deepened a few shades now as he glowers at Peter. You give his hand a squeeze to attract his attention, the expression on his face immediately softening when he looks at you.

“I think it’s sweet,” you say, encouraging a smile onto James’ lips. He drops your hand, only to wrap his arm around your shoulder and pull you into his side. You nuzzle your nose against his shoulder, looking at him with expectant eyes. He knows what you’re asking for, and would rather hand his friends more ammo to tease him with than deny you, so he gladly plants a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“You two are sickening.” Sirius leans over the counter, propping his chin up with his hand as he sighs dramatically. “It’s adorable,” he adds.

“Wrapped around her finger, are ya?” Peter joins in on the teasing.

James keeps his eyes on you as he responds. “You bet I am.”

You tear your eyes away from James’ sweet gaze to address his smirking friends. “You know, I've heard a lot about you guys too," you say.

Sirius lights up with intrigue. "Oh, do tell."

"Well, Peter must be the guy to go to if you want to have a laugh. Every time James asks ‘Wanna hear a story Peter told me’ I know I’m gonna have to sit through several fits of laughter before he gets to the end of it," you say, nudging James with your elbow who nods along to confirm your story.

Peter puffs up his chest, proud to be known as the funny one.

"Remus," you continue, "I should've known you weren't a brother. James always tells me about how they drag you into things that you have to get them out of. If he hasn't told you before, he's very thankful for you. And Sirius. I think I've heard the most interesting stories about you."

"This should be good," Sirius says, a cocky grin on his face. "I've given James a whole catalog of legendary stories to tell about me."

"My favorite is the one that started with you trying to impress a girl by jumping into the pool from the roof and ended with you in the bushes after you tripped on the gutter,” you say, an air of sweetness in your tone and a smile on your lips.

The confident smirk drops from Sirius’ face and James snorts a laugh beside you. Peter cracks up, and even Remus snickers at the look on Sirius’ face.

"I think you’ve just won over Sirius," Remus says, watching as his grin returns.

“You got me, I can appreciate that,” Sirius says. “Why have you been hiding her from us for so long, James? I like her.”

"Yeah, I like her too,” James replies, squeezing you a little closer into his side. He doesn't bother trying to hide the broad grin overtaking his features. As he looks down at your giggling face, he can't remember what he was so nervous about.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[demonic-x-sorcerers]

Moudo presses his hands against the ground that is clear of snow, thanks to the emergence of Rioto's golems. He changes the softness of the ground and turns it into mud. It went towards the curse and started to entrap its feet, slowing its movements down.

The shrewd curse screeches as it starts to dig at the ground while thrashing around. And suddenly, it opens its mouth wide, revealing rows of teeth and more teeth like a shark's maw. Then something glows, a ball of green light forming.

"What the?" Rioto widen his eyes.

She kept a good hold on the curse, making sure to stay clear of any tricks or hidden claws that might be around. She just had this feeling it was hiding some. But at least it was restrained feeling the curse struggling to get her to release him. Yuta saw that Moudo was helping her and even seeing the golems helping too.

[moodmagicgirl]

Fratboy Caleb and Nerdboy Zayne ❄️🍎

[d33pwithinmys0ul]

୨★✧.*party 4 u ✧★.*୧

Jean Kirstein x Reader, one shot

★ recreational drug use, angst, fluff, post break up, kissing, ex boyfriend, insecurity and anxiety

Ik the song is trending but when I tell you it's been a fave with me forever.. this WIP has sat with me for a while, and I changed my mind with a lot of it but hopefully u all still like it! (If I had a nickel for every Jean fic I wrote inspired by a charlixcx song, lol) Who said you can't make corny songfic in 2025??

┈➤here's the ao3 link or read under the cut :)

Jean thought you were the most beautiful he’d ever seen. 

Silver confetti fluttered around you, the echoes of the crowd and thudding bass was overwhelming. You felt weightless and free as you danced in the darkness. The strobe lights made you see spots, highlighting the smoke that spun into the air, and for the briefest moment, everything was fine.

You couldn’t believe you almost didn’t come. 

Hitch barely managed to persuade you to skip your 8 am tomorrow, just so you could all get fucked up tonight. 

You took an Uber so none of the group would have to drive from the pregame near campus to Jean Kirschtein’s obnoxiously large house in the country.

You and Jean had a complicated history—Hitch and Annie didn’t know, because you hated the drama of it all. 

All your freshman year at Paradis State, you were inseparable in puppy love, and so unprepared for the consequences of it. You weren’t the best at expressing your feelings and boundaries, and Jean was eager to please you. It should have worked better, and you tried not to linger on that fact. He was breathtakingly handsome and had lots of friends, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that you eventually just stopped seeing each other. 

Well, you stopped seeing him. 

You practically ghosted Jean when you found out about his weird feelings about Mikasa. You couldn’t unsee his crush whenever he was around her, and it killed you. You weren’t even angry with her for it, since Mikasa was happily infatuated with Eren, though you wished you could tell her plainly that you harbored nothing against her for it. 

You were young and emotional, and let your hurt get the better of you. It didn’t make any sense, and you didn’t even give Jean a chance to explain himself, ever. 

The aftermath was awkward considering how many mutual friends you had, so you just avoided him entirely. You started going to clubs in the next town over instead of bars and parties around campus, and you were content with the new friends you made in Annie and Hitch, despite their connections looping back to the same place. 

You supposed for as long as you lived in Trost, everyone you knew would lead you back to Jean. He was a good guy. You kind of freaked out, and got too embarrassed and proud to go back to him and apologize. 

“C’mon man, are you gonna try to enjoy yourself?” Connie gave him a light punch on the shoulder. 

“I am,” Jean said, irritated, and glanced outside again. “Are you sure she’s coming?”

He had spent the first hour of the evening hovering by the windows. They were tall and wide, so he would have seen you perfectly from the other end of the room, but as soon as he heard that you were coming, he was a wreck. 

He insisted on picking out the decorations instead of letting Sasha take the lead, like she usually did. He couldn’t help himself from the excitement that blossomed in his chest at the idea of seeing you, really seeing you. 

As the others around him began pregaming, Jean really drank. 

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help it. His heart raced all evening, resounding all his longing, begging, willing you through that door. Come to my party. Come to my party.

Jean felt like he was always catching glimpses of you, and no matter how hard he tried to move on, the way you seemed to, there was always a remaining trace of bitterness. You were barely there, yet not close enough for him to properly ignore the way you made him feel.

It was years ago, and should mean nothing. It meant nothing. 

“Look man,” Connie put his hand on Jean’s shoulder, his breath fanning the scent of beer over to his friend. “Just relax! Either y’talk to her, or you don’t. I don’t think you should waste your night being emo about it. Make a decision. Do something instead of moping around.”

Jean shoved his hand away, a little harsher than he intended to. He couldn’t gauge his own strength—or temper–when he got drunk like this. 

“Yeah, I know.”

By the time you arrived at the sizable mansion, up a long winding driveway lined with trees, you were so high, you didn’t give Jean a second thought. 

You walked in with the girls, immediately enamored with the superfluous decorations, the colorful, ambient lighting, and the blasting music. Balloons hung from the ceiling and littered the floor, and it seemed like over a hundred people were crammed into every crevice of the house. 

“What the hell is this party for again?” You yelled to Hitch, despite her face only being a few inches from yours. Her eyes were hazy and distant, as she’d shared some molly with you earlier, the dose she took was far more. 

“Uhh, I think Jean said he just needed a pick me up for the new semester,” she shouted back and slipped her sunglasses over her eyes. “I think it’s pretty.”

“I’m getting jungle juice,” Annie said boredly. She’d taken more shots than any of you, and remained composed like it was nothing. “Come with?” 

Hitch nodded. 

“Y/n? You rolling?” 

“Not yet. I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” you shook your head and gave them an encouraging smile.

“Fine, but if I leave here alone, I’m killing you both,” she stuck her tongue out at you playfully, and gripped Annie’s arm as they went off. 

You smiled and decided to occupy yourself by weaving through the crowd, people watching. 

There were people taking shots, legs in tall boots and short skirts, groups smoking cigs and rolling up by the staircase. A throng of people surrounded the DJ on the raised platform by the living room. 

Your senses were pleasantly heightened, you felt warm and light. The mixture of drugs kept you at ease, though a part of you ached, and seemed to search for a certain familiar face.

You pushed away the thought and made your way across the floor. 

You saw Historia posing as her girlfriend took photos of her, the flash briefly blinding you as you stumbled past. You waved at Connie and Sasha, the former shotgunning a beer as his friend timed him. It was always nice seeing them. 

“Hey Y/n!”

You turned to find a buzzed, cheerful Marco, with a solo cup in hand, and he leaned in for a hug. 

“Hey!” You said, surprised, and squeezed him tight. 

You liked Marco a lot, and despite being Jean’s best friend, he was one of the kindest people to you throughout the past few years.

“I’m great, did you just get here?” He asked. 

“Yeah. Looks like you guys went all out,” you grinned and gestured at the crowded room. If it wasn’t silver or gold, it was sparkling or glowing. 

“It was all Jean’s idea,” Marco rubbed the back of his neck, stumbling over his words. “I dunno. He’s uh– excited. Probably on a second bottle by now.” 

“Oh,” your eyebrows betrayed your concern. “Um, is he alright?”

“It doesn’t seem fair to… sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Marco was pink from the alcohol, and seemed to turn a little redder. “You should enjoy yourself!”

“Well, where is he?” Your eyebrows pinched together. 

The temptation was killing you. Was Marco trying to say that Jean wanted to talk to you? Why else would he suggest it?

“Um, outside, I think,” he gave you an apologetic smile. “Really, he’ll be okay. You should enjoy your night. He sent me away to enjoy mine.”

You swallowed and watched him disappear into the crowd. 

You were fucking out of it. Maybe any mistakes you made tonight could be reasonably excused. Besides, you were friends with Jean long before you fucked things up. 

You made your way through the sea of people and to the back door, an angelic synth swimming in your ears. 

You stepped outside, and shivered from the biting February breeze. 

The pool shone blue in the night, casting a glow that shimmered and shook with the water. It was quieter in the backyard, the thudding music and chatter was muffled and seemed worlds away. 

You braced yourself to see Jean around the corner, or on a chair, but you were completely alone. 

Your head was pounding from the powerful speakers. You took a deep, shuddering breath, allowing yourself to feel. Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten so fucked up, knowing that Jean would be here. You kind of walked into this. Yet, you think you might’ve felt the same sober. That was sadder. At least with this, you could blame it on the drugs. 

Fuck. You couldn’t let yourself spiral and lose it. You felt like shit ruining girl’s nights like this, even if Hitch and Annie were preoccupied elsewhere. 

You sank to your knees by the pool, and took off your heels. You dipped your feet in the water, grateful for the cold, tranquil distraction. You closed your eyes, and took deep breaths. With the muffled crowd and the occasional car passing in the street, the moment felt a little more real. 

Jean was always good at helping you calm down. When you managed to convey the times you were overwhelmed, he was a saint, rubbing your back and keeping you hydrated when you got too high or anxious. 

Tears leaked down your face before you could stop them. You didn’t want to ruin your makeup, after using so much glitter, but your cheeks were wet and your vision blurred. You hadn’t thought about this, or him, in years. 

Did you overreact? You let your jealousy get to the better of you. God, you sucked. Maybe you should have stayed home. Maybe it’s just been too long, or you were high, and lonely, but the idea of Jean holding you close now made your heart ache. 

You heard the back door slide open, spilling more heavenly electronic music into the air until it shut again. 

“Hey.” A familiar voice called your name, nearly cracking. 

“Hey,” you said, hastily wiping your face, staring straight ahead at the water. “Are you alright?”

“I think I should be asking you,” Jean slurred and sat down on the pavement. He had a bottle in his hand, and wore a button down with the sleeves rolled up, his hair tousled and sticking slightly to his forehead from sweat. His legs were crossed, and he leaned down while he spoke, his posture ruined in favor of staying at your eye level. “I di–um..” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Seemed like fun,” you laughed, despite the salty taste in your mouth. “It’s all beautiful, Jean. You always throw one hell of a party.”

His eyes were pained, and it sent a stabbing sensation to your chest. 

“Thanks.” He seemed very tempted to say more, but instead took a swig and passed you the bottle. 

“No I’m good, I’m rolling,” you pushed it back to him. 

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “Any.. particular occasion?”

You shrugged. 

“Hitch offered.” You tried not to read too much into his question. You rolled very rarely—partying was always magnified by a little molly every now and then. You likely flattered yourself too much as you wondered if he was thinking you came out tonight to fuck someone, with its reputation as a sex drug. 

“Sounds fun,” he said, jaw tight. “So… why are you out here?”

“Marco kind of sent me,” you laughed. “Obviously, I was too late. Thought you’d be somewhere else by now, and the pool’s nice.”

“Well, here I am,” he said bitterly. He swept a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes and ruining the near-perfect coif. You liked it better that way, messy and long, you didn’t think the perfectly combed look really fit him. 

“How–how are you?” You said lightly. His lashes were so long, perfectly framing his sad eyes, brushing his cheek with every blink. 

“Second semester always sucks,” he shrugged and took another swig. “Thought something extravagant would lighten everyone’s spirits.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled and laughed nervously. You were chewing your lip as you kicked your leg gently against the water, watching the small droplets flick away from you.  “I think it was a great idea. And it’s stunning– inside, by the way. It’s gorgeous.”

There was a trace of a smile on his lips from your compliment. He couldn’t make himself say that it was really all for you. 

Your features were glowing from the light refracting off of the pool, your short dress rode up your thighs, and Jean couldn’t help but stare. He wondered if you sensed it too, the tension—not from the awful history, or the unsaid professions, but the near tangible desire.  

“I’m glad you made it,” he said softly. “It’s really nice to see you.”

“Of course,” you said quickly. You averted your eyes, your hands in your lap. 

The drugs were heightening all your emotions, and all your senses—the tinge of chlorine in the air, mixing with Jean’s familiar scent, the faint thudding of music from inside the house, the cool water against your skin. 

“Um,” your breath was shaky, your hands clenched into fists. “I’m sorry, by the way. A-about freshman year.” You nearly choked on the words as they bubbled out of you. “It’s—I was really dumb and jealous. You’re a great guy, Jean. You’re an amazing, sweet, romantic son of a bitch. You deserve the world.”

You tried not to stare, but it wasn’t like he was returning the favor. You were both shamelessly memorizing each other's features, a mingling of fear, apprehension, and desperation. You felt so wretched, to pretend like he was someone you never loved. 

“Do you wanna dance?” Jean said pathetically. It was all he could manage, despite everything he wanted to say. 

You blushed and tried not to smile too hard. That was more than enough for you. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

You ignored the tossing in your stomach as Jean held the door open, leaking sound and smoke into the air before sliding it shut. 

It was a small, guilty pleasure, feeling him guide you through the mass of people, dancing, thrashing bodies and balloons. 

You found a small opening, nearly thrown together from the crowd. 

You spent the night with your arms at Jean’s shoulders, and his hands at your waist. The strobe lights nearly blinded you, but you couldn’t look away from him. The adoration in his eyes, the curve of his lips. Maybe he was thinking the same thing, that you were both ridiculous, cowardly idiots. Maybe you were just delusional. 

You couldn’t stop yourself when you leaned into him, taking in his scent, yearning to feel his heartbeat, as if you were the only people in the room. It was like time stopped and everyone else faded away when he closed the space between you, his lips warm and rough and they met yours, finally reuniting after all the heartache. 

Jean tasted like home. His hands roamed your body, through your hair, and you clung to him, kissing him and forsaking your breath. It all felt so good, so right.

“Oh my god,” Jean groaned, thrilled by the taste of you, the way you felt against him and in his hands. He tried to be gentler, but he was too excited by your shallow breaths, your impossibly soft skin, your moans urging him to be more and more indecent. 

You nearly stumbled, getting shoulder checked from a nearby dancer, and your tall heels failing you. Jean’s grip at your waist was firm, and he led you to the corner and pinned you against the wall. He kissed you until you gasped for air.

“Uh, should we do something?” Sasha nudged Connie with her elbow as she spotted you both from a distance, making out passionately, for all to see. 

“Are you kidding?” Connie snorted. “They need that shit. I’ll find them an empty closet myself.”

[viccha0z]

Cartman n Butters are roommates in my college AU :D

(img context is that they found smth rotten in the fridge and call for help, because they CANNOT take it out themselves they suck)

[silverozy]

chapter update status: 2.72k words, 33.28%

Amor tam pulcher | KTH - masterlist

❁pairing: senior!taehyung x junior!oc (Italian education system)

❁description: a love story revolving around a butterfly and its favourite flower

❁synopsis:

if he could, he'd write poems on how pretty she looked, on how perfect she was. He'd probably make the next Catullus or even better, he'd dare say. Everyone would love to read about her and how she makes him feel. He even wonders how she isn't loved, worshipped in fact, by everyone but he's glad he's the only one whom she hops to whenever class is dismissed, the only one to have her cheeks explore all possible shades of red, the only one whose arms she'd willingly fall asleep in between.

❁genre: romance, fluff, smut, angst

❁wc: 175.82k+

❁date: 30/03/2024

❁warning: mature content

❁notes: strangers-to-lovers, teen love story, lots of fluff, smut, senior!taehyung (taehyung is like super smart), junior!oc (academic weapon, she loves herself an excellent academic performance), a lil angst, taehyung is head over heels for oc, nature lovers (oc loves flowers, taehyung loves butterflies), countryside (looks like Italy because that is the only type of countryside I know and love), oc has a lovely family, taehyung has daddy issues, jimin and jungkook are taehyung's besties( they also have other two girls as best friends); oc has a girl best friend (childhood best friend) and three boys as best friends); oc is so fucking prettyyy, like girl pretty; cross-posted on wattpad and ao3

❁chapters (status - ongoing) ⇀ updates every Friday, midnight

latest — 20/02

❀ ❛prologue❜ - 1.52k

Rewriting the story of Daphne and Apollo ⇀ «A love that drives me crazy, a lovely crazy, a sexy crazy, an amazing crazy»

❀ 01 ❛love is all around❜ - 4.24k

On a chilly summer morning, a bouncy curly-haired sun rose up and shone above the flower

❀ 02 ❛ying yang❜ - 4.28k

Photosynthesis: the sun shines bright above the flower providing it with energy which will be transformed into nutrients

❀ 03 ❛the exploratory stage❜ - 5.48k

As the sun shines in its might, it brightens the way for a little flower to see over the horizon

❀ 04 ❛just like old times❜ - 6.70k

The bright rays of the sun show the way to the flower, introducing it to an innocent little bear, a ferret and a little wasp

❀ 05 ❛a monarch butterfly❜ - 4.17k

There, going back home, was an unusual combination of subjects: a cricket, a wing-man, a monarch butterfly, a little pika and a puppy

❀ 06 ❛venus❜ - 4.82k

Who could have ever thought that a flower could grow in space? Who? No one surely and yet... there it was, standing upright in its beauty

❀ 07 ❛a laurel❜ - 4.92k

He knew he wasn't meant to fly to space because he physically couldn't but this thought wouldn't stop him. Was he being pretentious? Trying to exceed his limits?

❀ 08 ❛fuck you!❜ - 6.10k

Normally, flowers are in people's gardens or on a bed of green grass so... what the hell is one singular one doing in the middle of the ocean. Does it know, does anyone know, that too much water will cause it harm... especially when the water is salty?

❀ 09 ❛en route❜ - 5.07k

With its six tiny feet into proper boots, a good protective shield over his wings and an astronaut helmet on, the monarch butterfly embarks on a life-threatening journey, one believed to be a one-way ticket travel

❀ 10 ❛who we are, what we do❜ - 6.01k

Flowers don't have eyes, yeah, and neither does a pika glow even during the day. The flower is used to seeing only the sun shine during the day. The little pika walking by is unusual.

❀ 11 ❛an overly ambitious hedonistic seductress❜ - 6.04k

Cleopatra is the modern definition of the term "femme fatale"; she's known for ruling in ancient Egypt but also for her relationship with Ceaser and Mark Antony

❀ 12 ❛the butterfly, the cricket and the wing-man❜ - 4.49k

A butterfly, a cricket and a wing-man all have wings somewhat. The first does fly, the second mostly leaps and the last doesn't fly unless the first two do.

❀ 13 ❛the Titanic❜ - 7.31k

Between the night of the 14th and the 15th, in 1912, one of the biggest ships of its time sank, going against the expectations but did it? At the time, there was a little competition between countries so when it sank it wasn't so surprising: something so big with very few resources would have never made it across the ocean.

❀ 14 ❛from five to ten❜ - 11.44k

Brighten the mood. Increase the energy. Make a downturned flower rise high and flunt its beautiful petals for others to see.

❀ 15 ❛bold, red and underlined❜ - 14.70k

“You know? That party I wanted to host at mine? You’re so invited. In fact, you’re the first one on my guest list and I’ll underline your name in red as in ‘in great and urgent need of pussy’—”

❀ 16 ❛«it's Daphne»❜ - 11.30k

A monarch butterfly sees a lot of flowers in its short span of life but never has this one, nor its ancestors, seen a flower as pretty as the one ahead. The flower was there, living beautifully in space.

❀ 17 ❛hesperiidae❜ - 6.41k

Right when the sun faded away and the dark clouds took over, the little butterfly's wings fluttered less as it lost hope until something caught his eye, a gleam slicing through the gloom and focusing on a flower.

❀ 18❛opposites attract❜ - 5.59k

Winter and the Wind of the West come to destroy but nothing can touch a flower when it's under a shelter, something that will prevent it from dying in the cold or losing its beautiful petals.

❀ 19 ❛peek-a-boo (boo boo)❜ - 5.66k

Things have been too unusual for this butterfly. Wasn't it trying to embark on an impossible journey? To space? How did it end up in a shiny sea? it's floating and his pupils are swelling. The beauty is indeed out of this world

❀ 20 ❛lifejacket❜ - 6.97k

The wings grew with each flutter. There was a glowing dot on the ocean and it was slowly fading out into the darkness so the butterfly cradled it and protected the leur

❀ 21 ❛monarch and blue morpho butterflies❜ - 4.13k

The weather was chilly and slightly windy. Despite the discomfort it caused everyone, the flower stood out like a thumb as it danced and waved with the soft patterns of the breeze. The butterfly couldn't do anything other than admire with widened orbs

❀ 22 ❛rosy cheeks❜ - 3.91k

Did it see it? Did the flower see the butterfly? Because the butterfly has already seen the flower. Had already memorised every curve, every line, and every dot that brought the flower to life.

❀ 23 ❛caramel macchiato❜ - 4.23k

There was no way he could ever get lost: one look at those eyes and he'd see all the constellations, the map leading him to Venus

❀ 24 ❛butterflies, flowers... and butterflies❜ - 6.03k

«I mean, it's also an evergreen plant like the Laurel but it doesn't sound as special. Lauri does though.»

❀ 25 ❛bittersweet❜ - 4.10k

There were seven lanes, each welcoming an athlete, for a total of seven athletes. Yet, as the contestants got ready for the lace, some chose to acknowledge the presence of only a few athletes, the ones they were marking. Their true competition.

❀ 26 ❛open stage❜ - 9.78k

Floating and hovering around his spaceship, the butterfly moved closer to the round window giving to the dark glittered expanse. There was Venus and standing proudly in its infinite beauty was the flower.

❀ 27 ❛approach, round out, flare❜ - 8.08k

Poor Cinderella. She cried and cried. Then a small woman appeared in a cloud. It was Cinderella’s fairy godmother. “Biddidi, bobbidi, noo!” sang the fairy godmother as she waved her magic wand, but she gasped, hand coming to cover her mouth in bewilderment. Cinderella had turned into a tomato!

❀ 28 ❛a lighthouse❜ - 6.47k

Water flowed through the clothes, the hair strands, and around the body as the flower held onto a wide piece of wood. The water was chilling, the night was silent and the ambience was dark but right through the blackness slid the rotating rays of a lighthouse. Blinking to adapt to the brightness, the flower called for help.

❀ 29 ❛heads or tails❜

❀ 30 ❛collywobbles❜

❀ 31 ❛the sun on the horizon❜

❀ 32

❀ 33

❀ 34

❀ 35

[helpimstuckatthebottomoftartarus]

I NEED a muggle wolfstar AU where they’re in college and Sirius convinces Remus to go to clubs with him most nights. Most of the time Sirius gets wasted while Remus stays Sober to tuck him in.

[heyitsnaardi]

JayVik based on my recently uploaded fanfic "Collaborative Work"! A slow burn 00s romcom inspired college AU. Yes, it is basically that lmaooo. Link for it on the replies!

[wanologic]

sorry danny, sam will never think you’re cool

[yandere-wishes]

ABSOLUTELY BEST THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN 💞💞

𝟙:𝟘𝟘 𝕒𝕞 Dottore x reader

Synopsis: Dottore isn’t the best at words, especially when it’s past midnight and you both have an assignment due first thing in the morning. Yet as the clock tics onwards, he grows a bit bolder. 

Notes: I’m trying a new writing style so please let me know what you think. 

Editor: The wonderful @tealyjade-libran

💙🔹💙🔹 💙🔹 💙🔹 💙🔹 💙🔹 💙🔹 💙🔹 💙🔹 💙🔹 💙🔹 💙🔹

There’s blood on his hands again. Just like yesterday and the day before that. Limp body drowning in a sea of half-done lab reports, and suicide notes, and love letters. Desperate words scribbled on warn notepads come to life to haunt him. 

The dorm light overhead scorches his eyes. He thinks it’s divine punishment on the utmost microscopic level. He feels so sick of playing mortal. So sick of the Akademiya that treats them like feeble rats.

 and still, he calls it home, 

Dottore’s gaze lingers on your hunched figure. Matted hair and clouded eyes. Scrawling away at another assignment that’s due upon first bell. 

There’s an unspeakable fatigue that lays heavily on your bones. Something that neither sleep nor furlough will fix. 

You’re tired

So is he. 

1:30  am

There’s blood under his fingernails from clawing away at beakers and graduated cylinders. Desperate to have something to show, when morning comes. Something cohesive enough that his dreaded professors may finally see that his frantic hypotheses hold some bearings. 

your wry eyes stare at him like he’s an archon, a primordial deity. Like he’s death frozen in a prison overrun with blooming life and wildflowers 

The desk you two share is a mess. Border blurred between medical science and sociology. Where does the human body end and the mind begin? Where does logic decay and love take over? 

What’s the purpose of a heart anyway?

To sustain or to guide?

He wonders if you love him.

He doubts it.  

2:15 am 

There’s blood slipping from between the cracks in his flesh. 

You cradle his palm in your hand. Wrapping a cloth around the wound. 

He wonders if you could do the same for the lacerations he hides behind sharp comments and blood-red eyes. When you touch him so tenderly he remembers he has a name, a body, a soul. 

He remembers he’s not just rogue fragments of past lives haunting a walking husk. He’s Zandik, he’s Dottore, he’s everything you need him to be. 

He tries to kiss you. 

You turn away. 

2:55 am 

there’s blood slithering down his lips, his chin, his throat.

You grasp at his heart, molding the darkness in your likeness. To him you are light. Not that he’s seen the sun in days. 

“You’re beautiful” he mutters, hoping you hear him as you lay on the bathroom floor. 

Ice-cold water sprinkles along his flesh as he tries to wash away the blood, the stress,  the stubborn ache caught between his muscles. 

This is intimacy, right? Not quite love, but a speck more than friendship. 

You laugh at him from behind the blue shower curtain. A haunted, hollow noise. “Beauty doesn’t matter much around here” you replied as you hand him his towel. 

You switch places. Cold showers keep the sleep away. Or so you’ve heard. 

“You’re beautiful” you call after him.

Dottore thinks he hears you say something. Or maybe it’s all the memorized data finally getting to him.

3:30 am

There’s blood on his lips as he kisses you.

He wonders what you see him as.

A lover or a killer.

It’s late and there are too many emotions to keep track of. 

So you kiss, the final solution to an otherwise unsolvable query.

Deep and desperate. Teeth clashing and hearts melting as you both hopelessly search for the answer to all your woes.

Dottore leans down to kiss you again, he tastes of dying stars and burning metal.

somewhere a santoor plays a lone tune. Haunting the dormitory halls. 

Dottore watches as you dance. Some botched replica of your eon-long traditions. He thinks it’s funny how you’re the prettiest girl in Teyvat. He thinks it’s funny how he’s the most monstrous thing to crawl out of the abyss. 

You kiss again. This time with precise calculations and perfect time. 

‘I love you’

you both long to say.

4:00 am 

There’s blood on his tongue, in his mouth, in his lungs. All he can think of is how much he needs you. How much he wants you. 

There are so many pieces of you that he’s been preserving inside himself. 

Enjoying the sensation of glass entering skin as he impales himself with your shards.

Your fingers tangle in his hair. Tugging to try and make him feel your pain. 

The Akadimiya is no place for love, you think as Dottore kisses the veins on your arm. Do you want him or do you need him?

There’s still a lab report on the effect of neurological suppressants on vision wielders to complete. 

There’s still a four-page essay on the effect of broken cultural ties on Sumeru’s populace to complete.

4:30 pm 

there’s blood on your dormitory floor. Pristine royal red and something more. Yasmin is the first to find it and you wonder if that makes all the difference in the world. You beg her to stay silent and she’s too scared to decline. The pool of maroon evidence of some sort of love declared between two exhausted university students. 

You like to think of it as a promise ring. 

You can’t deny Dottore of anything. Be it love or anything else, not in the mornings when you’re semi-lucid and definitely not at night when you’re too muddled to care about anything. 

Dottore is destined for misery, not enlightenment. Knowing this you’ll be sure to let him drag you down if he so desires. 

He may as well fall into the abyss and you’ll leap in after him. 

You think the two of you confessed last night. Kissed until the breath in your lungs and fire in your loins had been exhausted. You’re too exhausted from today’s lectures to recall fully. 

Still, you’re heart races as he enters the room. Steps in the puddle and trudges towards you. Firm hands on your shoulders as you kiss again to the beat of the afternoon sun. 

This is love you think as your eyelids grow heavier. 

This is love he thinks as he spills his research into your veins. 

[frid4y]

you always looked past that quiet boy in your classes, occasionally sparing him a glance. that was until he became your partner for a project in a random class. surprisingly, he was friendlier than his appearance. the slight, agitated face he always had gone the moment you spoke, and you learned his name was suguru.

the long nights studying in the library & putting together your project helped blossom a friendship. what you only ever saw the relationship as. sure, he was really good-looking, but he's just your friend, right? along with your hunch that he's inexperienced, it's just the vibe he gives off. he probably wouldn't know what to do if he saw a naked girl in real life. right?

wrong. so painfully wrong. what originally was hanging out in your dorm room turned into suguru thrusting into your dripping cunt from behind, his hand pushing your head down into the pillow, which is stained messily with mascara and tears.

"you gotta be quiet, baby… wouldn't want anyone to hear how much you fucking love taking my cock, would we?" you only manage to let out a muffled moan, making him let out a small hum before your head is pulled up from the pillow and his fingers grip your hair.

two sharp smacks are delivered to your ass, and your lips part to let out a strangled gasp. suguru leans forward and captures your lips in a messy kiss, the sound blending in with the harsh noises of you being fucked stupid on his dick. you can't even remember how this happened. you guys were laughing about something, and suddenly you were being split open by his cock.

you want to let out your moans so bad. desperately beg for him to fuck you harder and deeper. but he's right, you gotta be quiet, these walls are thin. the whole floor doesn't need to know how much of a slut you were. or how bad you're clawing at the sheets of your bed, whining for suguru's cock like you've been starved.

suguru's grip on your hair loosens slightly as he begins to lose himself in the feeling of your pussy enveloping his cock, the feeling of your walls clenching around him being the source of his groans and small whimpers.

your mind and body register that you're getting closer, and you're now pleading for suguru to keep going, not caring how loud you are anymore. it just feels so good, and you just can't contain your moans anymore. the louder you get, the more it spurs him on to help you cum all over his cock. the little words of encouragement, mixed in with degrading names. it was just the perfect touch to make your orgasm hit you harder than ever.

suguru rubs your hip soothingly as your body convulses after that intense climax. "you did so fucking good… but i know this pussy can give me one more, can't she? now turn over, i wanna see your pretty little face while you're being a good little cumdump."

[tired-all-the-time22]

World’s worst couple tries to give relationship advice to local ghost, mixed reactions abound

[golden-berry]

Ive been reading collage au fics lol. (I love the idea that Stanley does go to school but works there!) still love fiddle Stan

>>