#pretty impressive for the 80s

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A digital drawing of a shot from the film La semana del asesino. It shows three hands holding a pair of binoculars. The hands belong to the characters Marcos and Néstor, although it is unclear which hand belongs to who, as they are indiscernible from one another in size and colour. One hand cups the bottom, and two hold onto either side. You can see the beginning of both of their shoulders, with Marcos' shoulder on the right and Néstor's on the left. There is a vague suggestion of a room in the background, with panelling and curtains. The lineart is a dark blue, and has very pronounced shadows. The colours for each element do not have any shading or lighting outside of this, except for the gleam on the binoculars. The colour scheme is desaturated and cold, mostly comprising of blues with small sections of yellows or even orange (for the binoculars' strap).]

Inktober - Day 5 (Binoculars)

Film - La semana del asesino (Eloy de la Iglesia, 1972)

[doedipus]

BRCF kind of failed to sell me on JSR but what it *did* do was make me more curious about electronic music in general

[kxllerblond]

the fact someone's business/military/etc handler can be answering to one of clark's aliases who is answering to one of his other aliases who is answering to him is hilarious to me kdfjbgdg

[crooked-wasteland]

You Can't Trust The Media

No, this terrible rendition of Lilo & Stitch is not a success (yet). While $341.7 Million dollars seems like a lot, what if I were to tell you the movie cost $200 million just to make and advertise? That means that the movie has only actually made Disney a measly $141 Million dollars. And since Disney is a massive company, those earnings are barely profits.

The press is trying to play on people's FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) with dark money from Disney. These articles are PR in the guise of news. It is actual propaganda.

To put it in context, the original Lilo & Stitch from 2002 cost $80 Million to make, and the movie earned $270Million in the global box office. This was considered a financial underperformer and "modest" return. That's over three times the budget for the film.

Of course we are unsure of the money spent on marketing as studios typically do not share that information, but we are aware that even the original film had an inflated marketing budget compared to other movies coming out at the same time as well. But a marketing campaign being the same price as the film itself is pretty unheard of and partly why Disney is boasting about the amount of money they are spending on this film.

But the fact that advertising costs are typically hidden should also raise some eyebrows. Why would Disney give a firm number for their advertising budget? It's reasonable to take that 1 Million as a rough estimate. It probably is a higher number.

I also want to mention it seems odd how quickly we are getting Global boxoffice numbers. It feels like they may be trying to beat the bad press coming out.

But at the end, this still isn't a runaway success. Even by Disney's own reported numbers, this isn't that impressive. But the media will try and tell you it is.

This is how propaganda works.

[catenary-chad]

Here’s some links about amusement park trains (mostly US and mostly steam, it’s actually really hard to find much on non-steam ones)

Outdated but extensive list of Crown Metal Products trains

Relatively current list of only their steam engines

General amusement park trains site, dated but very thorough with what it has, lots of photos

The wikipedia list of amusement park railroads is very incomplete but a decent starting point for non-Disney parks with historic trains

(funny fact: I thought Hersheypark’s train was a fake with some attention to detail sound/motion wise…. it is not, just very small and clean burning)

[inbabylontheywept]

the house i grew up in was a little bit of a fixer upper. for the first 19 years, my dad just sort of slowly fixed it, but pretty early on in college, he came into a large amount of cash and decided to just do the whole thing at once. so he rented a different house for like, 2 months that was just a block down from us, and then got a bunch of contractors to fix original house ASAP. it was kind of crazy, but it compressed many years of work into like, three months.

the sitting in a new house for three months was actually pretty fun. and i shouldnt really complain at all (staying at home while in college is a sweet deal)

but.

but. my parents are fairly hard of hearing, and their bedroom in the old house was in the furthest possible annex from everyone else. wheras in the rental it was just in the middle of the house. so without going into details, i was extremely aware that my parents were having sex like, eight times a day. my dad had just retired and i guess they were celebrating, which is great i guess, having parents that really like each other is way better than the alternative, but also, it did make me envy their deafness. i kept headphones on for so long that year i got literal ear calluses.

at the same time, the house my buddy from the shoe incident grew up in flooded. turbo flooded. they burst like, two pipes at once and the damage was so severe they had to redo all the flooring and all the drywall. his family actually had homeowners insurance, which is either incredible or suspicious for a family that used the drained pool in their backyard to store rusty scrap metal. so insurance was handling the work, but in the meantime, they were crammed into a very small hotel room space. we did the math on it then, it averaged about 80 square feet a person.

so one day i got home, and i was chilling, and then six rolled around, and apparently six o'clock was sex o'clock because my parents decided to flex their cardio. i grabbed my headphones and prayed that god would do for me what he did for beethoven, but that failed to work, and then seven rolled around and my parents were still at it, which again, very impressive, but was pushing me to swap out judas for mozart in those prayers. there's a definitive point where you stop praying to be deaf and instead pray that god could take you to a nice field and pop you like a gore-balloon.

i was about five minutes away from that point when my friend called me and basically said i have been stuck in a 500 square foot space with 6 people and i didn't have many marbles to start but what few i had are gone. please. if we are friends, if we were ever friends, take me out of here just for a moment.

and i was still pretty mad at him, but i had pity on the poor guy. also helped that i was desperate to leave the house. so i drove the chickenshitmobile to the hotel and i picked him up, and then we did our normal hangout activity, which was go to food city and buy produce. his normal house was, on a good day, nasty, and his backyard was, as i stated before, mostly used to store mosquito larvae and rusty metal, so what we'd always done before was just walk to the grocery store a half block away and leer at vegetables.

so we did that and it was like old times again. they had some radishes that were expired, so i could buy like, literally an entire grocery bag of them for about $5. so i did. i really like radishes. he got a coconut because he liked fruit and beating things with hammers.

which probably would've been great except we didn't have a hammer, so instead we spent about 30 minutes stomping itike it owed us money. when it finally cracked we cheered like we just got the winning touchball at the superdome and then he ate some of the flesh, and i ate some of the radishes, and we admired the black, starless sky of the city before i took him back to his hotel room.

and then we got pulled over.

i forgot to turn my lights on because the street all around the food city was ludicrously well lit. so it went from being pretty bright, to pretty bright and flashy, then i pulled into a parking lot and a cop came to ask us for IDs which is where everything went to shit:

i’d forgotten my license at home. 

the cop was was actually kind of chill about it - he said he could get by with just an address. except i did not know my address. i hadn't memorized the new one yet. so i told the cop, my house is getting remodeled, i don't know my address right now. and then he went to my friend, and my friend said the exact same thing. house getting remodeled, staying somewhere else, no address, sowwwwwwy.

now the cop genuinely didn't know what to do. he went back to his car, and i was stressed that i was about to get into HUGE trouble so i started eating the radishes and my buddy started eating more of his coconut, and we actually managed to eat like a quarter of both before the cop came back. we ate enough produce that he could smell something weird in the air, and he asked what the smell was, and i said radishes, and my buddy said coconut, and the cop said which, and then we produced a large bag of droopy radishes and an absolutely brutalized coconut, and the cop was just like

so my buddy tried explaining how he was sharing a 500 square foot apartment with 6 people and wanted a fruit he could fight with power tools, and i tried explaining how i'd actually tried buying my parents like, board games and puzzles and stuff but nothing worked - the only thing my parents seemed to like doing right now was each other, and we both went on long enough and pathetically enough that the cop eventually went:

ok. stop.

and we stopped.

and he said do you know why i pulled you over?

and i said, because of my headlights, and my friend (who is hispanic) and the cop both looked at me like like i was the dumbest person in the entire world. and then the cop said no. that's why i'm allowed to pull you over. i checked your car because this neighborhood has a terrible sex trafficking problem, and i pull over every car i can to make sure no one is buying or selling sex. and you two are obviously doing neither. now i could give you, like, four tickets right now, but that would do nothing to make this area safer, so just turn your lights on, go home, drive safe, and try to be less stupid in the future.

and i said okay but i was thinking, you know, damn, this is just how i live man, i don't have a hidden third gear i can shift into. people can't just get smarter because it would be convenient. it's always convenient to be smart. i am literally trying my best.

but i didn't say anything because i was, slowly, learning how to filter what i said. instead i nodded and the cop left then i dropped my buddy off, and the last thing he said was said he owed me for responding to his SOS. I said he owed me for a lot of things, and he agreed that was true. then i drove home with my lights on, 5 under the speed limit, and arrived to a peaceful quiet home. I could’ve wept with relief but instead I went to bed.

the relief was short lived. i was woken up at 6 am by my parents. i swore, and then i prayed, and when i did not explode, i swore again. then i got up to make breakfast before my first class.

[saebaragi]

what a productive morning, I finished my 80's poetry book at breakfast, shallowed down a panic attack while doing the dishes, then I had the panic attack, then I read the rest of the chapter in the book I'm currently reading

[crafteeauthor]

I know "you are the brawn?" Is just because Charles is a twink but it would be infinitely funnier if Emma clocked Edwin's hell-tempered nature immediately. If that was a thing ghosts could do, or even that only some ghosts could do, then how many of them are under the impression Charles is in over his head- or at the very least more of a Watson than a second Holmes?

Like. Imagine going in to see two detectives but only one of them actually has a chair at the desk? Severe Edwardian dude with sulfur clinging to his aura. He does the talking and seems to make the decisions. His partner occasionally has to remind him to be nice and/or a bit more empathetic.

The other one is perched all pretty ON the desk? And he's visibly slimmer and notably a regular ghost but still claims he's the brawn? Gorgeous 80s guy, turns to his partner for approval almost every time he talks? Big glittery eyes? His scary companion can't quite seem to say no to him?

Emma's a Victorian ghost too so she's probably used to homosexual relationships having barely-there coverups it'd be so fucking funny if she was like "sure yeah the brawn, is that what they're calling it now?"

[asterdeer]

succumbing to the madness again (cross stitch brain activated)

[e1e4n0r5]

Got a Lil Sugar: Chapter 3

Masterlist, Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: Sugar Mommies Cait & Vi x Sugar Baby Reader

Words: 2871

Synopsis: After almost a month online, someone finally makes you smile

Warnings: Financial distress, sex work, creeps on the internet, FLUFF

Week four of attempting to save your finances.

You’d thought, stupidly, that this would be empowering. That you’d feel beautiful. Wanted.

Instead, you just felt…Cheap.

Desperate.

Ashamed.

Even the conversations with the nice ones didn’t make you feel good.

You were on the verge of shutting the app down entirely, telling yourself this was a mistake, you’d figure out something else to make money.

You didn’t check your inbox for a day and a half after the live stream, following Mel’s advice to look after yourself first. The people would wait.

Then you finally returned to the app, feeling no lighter than you had before. It was almost overflowing, making your head hurt when you saw the sheer amount of filth you had to wade through.

hey baby can i see those tits again? – $30 sent

You looked so pretty last night, I wanna fuck you so bad – $20 sent

can u send me a vid of u painting ur toes? I like blue! – $50 sent

And on it went.

A message with two new names caught your attention.

Caitlyn & Violet

The profile photo was simple: two women, one taller with blue hair in a fitted designer dress; one broader with pink hair wearing suit trousers and a shirt open to mid-chest, with a line of text beneath it:

We’d like to spoil someone who can handle both of us

Their first message was short, sent just after your live stream.

Good evening, Y/N. You caught our eye. Would you like to talk?

You stared at it for a long moment, your heart thudding, your lip caught between your teeth.

And then, with fingers just slightly trembling, you typed back.

Hello. Sorry for the late reply, I took yesterday off. Yes. I’d like that.

The reply came back almost instantly.

That’s what we wanted to hear.

Even just the sight of it on your screen gave your stomach a flutter.

We’re not here to waste your time, or ours. We like taking care of someone who deserves it. You made an impression.

You swallowed hard, reading it three times over before you managed a shaky little.

I appreciate that. I’ve only been here a few weeks, to be honest. Still figuring it all out.

Don’t worry, you can figure it out with us.

A notification from your cash app buzzed through.

Caitlyn & Violet sent you $20: For coffee while we chat

Your breath caught.

They didn’t even ask. They just did it. And it wasn’t for anything sexual!

We’re not here to make you feel uncomfortable. If at any point you’d prefer we stop, just say so. But we’d like to get to know you.

Then another message chimed in, with a different tone. A little cheeky.

Cait’s just being polite. what she means is: we think you’re cute. don’t ghost us yet, okay?

So that was Violet. You read back the messages, realising you had first been messaging Caitlyn. You nodded to yourself, noting their different vibes and punctuation.

Tentatively, you replied:

Not ghosting. Just nervous.

that’s okay, you’ll get the hang of it soon

And you felt like you were.

You spent the next few hours talking to lots of people as you caught up on messages and requests, but Caitlyn and Violet were the only ones who gave you butterflies. There was a nice man who’d already sent $80 in small chunks when you said something that made him laugh, but he was still…You know…A man.

A few women were still in the mix, and you’d sent some small photos back to them and some men when they gave you a tip, mostly of your feet, which still gave you the ick. But at least it was profitable – a total of $485 thus far.

That would cover your medications and some groceries.

Mel had been right; over the weeks, you'd gradually started accumulating some ‘regulars’ and you were able to start earning pretty consistently each day.

Around 7pm, you were starting to get hungry.  Just as you were about to make another meal of the cheap ramen noodles with some awful sausages, a message came through.

Why don’t you order dinner, darling? These types of discussions are best done on a full stomach.

You blinked as another notification lit up your screen, this time $50.

You couldn’t help but let out a breathless laugh, the shame and bile from earlier softening, just a little.

You really don’t waste time, huh? you typed, before you could overthink it.

not when we know what we want

And just like that – even though you still felt nervous, still felt way out of your depth – it didn’t feel quite so scary anymore. It felt like maybe you could let yourself enjoy this. Just a little.

Thank you, you typed back finally, fingers steadier this time. I’ll see what’s on the menu

Good girl

You weren’t sure who that was, but it made your chest feel hot.

You set your phone down and curled your knees to your chest, a tiny smile playing at your lips.

You were still messaging with Caitlyn and Violet – and others – when your food finally arrived; steaming cartons of pad thai and dumplings stacked neatly in a paper bag, a treat you hadn’t been able to afford in years. You snapped a quick photo of the spread on your coffee table and sent it to them without even thinking, along with a shy:

Thank you. This smells amazing.

A reply came fast.

you deserve good food, baby

Cait added, a little more restrained but no less warm: Enjoy, and take your time. We’re not going anywhere.

That made your stomach flip, in a good way, and you smiled to yourself as you set the phone aside long enough to dig in, savouring the first proper meal you’d had in weeks.

Halfway through, your phone buzzed again, this time a call with Mel’s name flashing across the screen.

You wiped your fingers quickly and answered. “Hey-”

“Sweetheart,” she interrupted in a hushed voice. You could hear clinking glasses and faint music in the background. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to talk to you! It’s just been one Daddy after another! I’ve got two minutes while this one’s in the bathroom. How’s it going?”

You hesitated, glancing at the coffee table littered with takeout containers and your phone screen still glowing with Caitlyn and Violet’s chat window.

“Um…Good and bad,” you admitted quietly. “But I’m chatting with someone nice. Well, two someones.”

“Two separate someones, or a couple?”

“Couple.”

Mel hummed thoughtfully on the other end of the line. “Interesting, that’s not very common. A man and a woman?”

“Two women. They messaged me right when I was about to give up,” you said. “It just feels different with them. They’re…” you trailed off, struggling for the word.

Mel finished for you. “Genuine?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” she said approvingly. “That’s what you want. They’ll keep you sweet if they’re the real deal. Polite, generous, and clear about what they want. If you’re not sitting there feeling creeped out, that’s a good sign.”

You couldn’t help but smile faintly at that. “They already sent me coffee money earlier. And then dinner.”

Mel laughed, clearly pleased. “Alright, listen: finish your food. And take a picture of yourself with it, cute little smile, hint of cleavage, and send it to them. Thank them for spoiling you. It makes them feel all warm and fuzzy, and keeps them hooked. Trust me.”

You bit your lip. “…Isn’t that-?”

“Are you about to say ‘manipulative’?” Mel supplied cheerfully. “No, angel, it’s manners. They bought you dinner, they gave you a spoil. Now, show them how much you liked it with a little bit of sugar. You want them to want to do it again, don’t you?”

“…Yeah.”

“Then be a good girl and keep them sweet,” she said lightly.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at her seductive tone. “Okay, okay. I will.”

“Attagirl,” she said. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Okay, he’s coming back. Call me later if you need to talk. You can do this. We’ll have lunch tomorrow!”

And then she was gone.

You took a deep breath, then carefully put the chopsticks in a takeout box, picked it up, and held your phone up at arm’s length. One soft smile, a slightly higher angle to hint at your cleavage, one little click, and you sent it to them with a simple message:

Dinner’s perfect. Thank you for taking care of me.

You’re welcome, baby. You look lovely.

damn right you do, that smile’s worth every penny

Your cheeks went hot, and for the first time all day, you let yourself grin – really grin – as you curled up on the couch again.

Maybe Mel was right.

Maybe it did get easier.

You woke up to the glow of notifications on your phone again. Dozens of messages on the app, and several notifications from the cash app.

You propped your head up on a pillow, scrolling through the notifications.

Some of the messages made you smile faintly.

Good morning, beautiful. Breakfast on me today? — with $15 attached.

Loved talking to you last night. Can’t wait to hear more about what you like. — $20.

You seem like such a sweet girl. Hope you have a good day. — no money, but at least polite.

Some of them were less nice.

Hey why didn’t you answer me last night? You’re not even that hot.

Bet you’re just here to scam people. Pathetic.

You grimaced and blocked them all without replying.

You kept scrolling, trying to remember what Mel had drilled into you: Talk to as many as you can. Don’t get attached. Every one of them is a potential payday.

And yet…

Your thumb stilled when you saw Caitlyn & Violet at the top of the list, just like last night.

Good morning, sweetheart.

You felt your chest warm at the sight of it.

The next message came a few minutes later, they must have sent it when you didn’t respond right away.

Don’t forget to eat something. We’d hate to find out you’re skipping breakfast.

And then another ping from your cash app.

Caitlyn & Violet sent you $30: For a good start to your day

You stared at it for a long moment.

You could open the other messages. There were nice people in there, probably. And you’d earn more if you talked to more of them, just like Mel said.

But the thought of it made your stomach twist.

It felt like work.

Whereas opening Caitlyn’s and Violet’s messages?

That already made your heart skip a little.

You bit your lip, then opened the chat.

Good morning, you typed back, fingers just slightly trembling. Thank you for breakfast, I’ll show you what I get when I’m out. You’re already making it really hard to talk to anyone else.

Their reply came back almost immediately.

that’s exactly what we’re going for, sweetheart

Then Caitlyn followed up, polite but with a sharp little edge that made your cheeks warm:

We prefer not to share. But we won’t rush you. When you’re ready to focus on just us, let us know. In the meantime, we’d love to keep talking

You tucked your phone against your chest for a second, grinning into your arm.

Mel was probably right. You should keep talking to everyone.

But right now?

You only wanted to talk to them.

You found Mel sitting on a bench in the park during your lunch break, ankles delicately crossed under her, her dress split to her thigh. She scrolled her phone with one hand, sipping on an iced latte that you knew she hadn’t paid for herself. She looked completely at ease, hair perfectly arranged, large sunglasses covering her eyes.

When she saw you approach, she grinned and patted the bench beside her.

“Hello, darling. Sit. Let’s talk business.”

You sank down next to her, unwrapping the hot sandwich you’d grabbed on your way over, thanks to Caitlyn and Violet. So far, they’d bought you the best dinner and breakfast you’d had in a long time, and you knew this sandwich was going to be just as good.

Mel eyed it, then smirked. “You look happier. Who bought your lunch today?” she asked teasingly.

You ducked your head, a little sheepish. “A few people actually. But I’m thinking of it as their treat. They sent me breakfast money too!”

Mel made a pleased little hum. “Good girls. Consistent spoiling already? Promising. That’s the main thing: consistency.”

You smiled faintly, but Mel was already rifling through her bag. She pulled out a little notepad, and handed it to you.

“Here. Homework. I wrote this up last night, seeing as these two clearly want more than just feet pics. These are the kinds of spoils you can and should get from a good Mommy or Daddy. Not just meals and coffee money. Think bigger.”

You glanced down. The list read:

Food & drink (every day, no excuses, even just $5 for a treat)

Clothes & shoes (‘wardrobe fund’)

Beauty/grooming (skincare, makeup, hair, nails, facials, waxing of your choice, etc)

Bills (rent, utilities, phone, etc)

Hobbies

Travel

Spending money (always keep petty cash on hand)

You swallowed and looked up. “All this?”

Mel nodded. “Angel, listen. If they want you, they’ll want to take care of you. That’s half the thrill for them. You remember that trip to Ionia I took last year?”

“Yeah, you had, like, a week at their most luxurious spa resort. I was so jealous.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And do you think I paid for that myself?”

Your eyes widened. You’d looked up the price of that spa at the time, it was thousands of dollars just for a single day pass, let alone the whole week Mel had gone for.

“They give you spoils, and you give back whatever sugar you’re comfortable with. You’re not obligated to jump into bed with someone just because they send you a few hundred. Got it?”

“…Got it,” you murmured, tucking the list carefully into your bag.

Mel leaned back, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Now. Let’s talk about sugar.”

You froze a little at the word. “…Right here? In public?”

She just smirked, low and lazy. “Relax. Nobody’s listening. There are levels. Not everything’s full sex; some people don’t want full sex. You can give as much or as little sugar as you’re comfortable with, but some Mommies and Daddies might want more than you want to give.”

“Mel, I've been...” you looked around in discomfort, “Sending things to people for weeks. Isn't it just the same thing?”

“Not entirely. Until now, people have been asking you for specific things, and you just gave them what they asked for. Now, you'll need to take some initiative. Learn what they like and keep doing that. Flirty pictures, like selfies with a little cleavage, or just smiling with your coffee. Those are the appetizer are some, the main course for others. If these two like coffee photos, send them coffee photos. If they like your boobs, send them boobs. If they have a stockings fetish, go out and buy a pair in every style you can.

“Suggestive pics: a little thigh, your mouth, lingerie, silhouette shots. Then you’ve got videos: sweet or sexy, just enough to keep them hooked. Voice notes: huge. You might be surprised by how much people love audio-only. Call them Mommy or Daddy in a sultry voice note and they’ll absolutely melt. One of my other Baby friends deals exclusively in voice notes; she’s never sent a single photo or vid, and her house is amazing.”

Your cheeks warmed as you listened, but you nodded along, absorbing every word.

Then she clapped her hands. “Okay. Time for some practical training. Stand up.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Stand up, angel. You’re dressed so nicely today, and the weather’s perfect. Let’s get you some fresh pics you can send. You should be taking photos or videos every chance you get. Good Babies always keep Mommies and Daddies up to date.”

You hesitated, then stood, smoothing your dress. Mel led you to a sunny patch of grass by some trees and directed you like a seasoned photographer: tilt your chin here, lean your hip there, smile but not too big, look this way, look into the distance. She had you sit on the grass with her coffee, leaning back on one hand and glancing coyly at the camera, your dress riding up just enough to tease. She even got one of you leaning forward against a tree, back arched to show the curve of your butt.

When you sat back down, scrolling through the little set of photos she’d taken, you had to admit, they were excellent.

Mel grinned at you over the rim of her sunglasses. “You’re welcome.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help smiling. “Thanks, Mel.”

“Anytime, angel. You’re already catching big fish: now you need to keep them on the line.”

You tucked your phone into your bag with a little thrill of nerves and excitement mingling in your chest.

Chapter 4

Taglist: @sevikas-whore, @djstinkyfartz, @jinririz, @abbyandcaitlover, @ayuxiru, @bebeluvvv, @youdoyou-andiwilldome, @kittymrtnezz69, @wyprettylilone, @jlb20416, @autisticratbagtm, @theoreticalfreak, @riotstemple29, @zaunite-516, @zmbieeee, @godhatesgoodgirls, @yoyo-w, @milanyas, @unknownomgg, @bella-but-not-hadid444, @marvelwomenarehot0, @nenoino, @opalundercover, @beggingonmykneesforher, @qlelwow, @loneliestafterparty, @flowersareup, @niceminipotato, @fruitfulfashion, @dut1fuldyk3, @youngtastemakerfart, @trinityobsessesovatings, @barmaideneeveewrites, @c1sne, @geminideathrose, @nuianced-tck-enby, @all-things-lilac, @m0ss-gremlin, @notkyleelol, @girlsatourbest, @rainfalls77, @vinvinvin-who, @ispendwaytolongonhere, @lavendercassie54321, @elliespookie, @elliecoochieeater, @nerdyjeansblog, @honeycriess, @kuntie99,

[solelifauna]

Yandere Batfam & Neglected Reader Prt. 2

Okay, so I didn't realize how much building I was gonna do around (Y/n's) social life so this chapter is honestly about knowing (y/n). Anyways, the next chapter will be from the batfam's pov and focus more on the yandere bits! Hope you enjoy this chapter tho!

Tag List!: @sitepathos @ferakillia @uknowimdumb @shycreatorreview @niggrrooo @dhanyasri @cantfindmelol @space1crow @earth-to-mee @rosecentury @yuyuzi-ling @simpingfor-wakasa @bat1212 @sheepintherain @person-from-daaaa-voidddd @resident-cryptid @cupids-pretty-boy @danni1323

The change started slowly on a normal evening, an evening like every other. It was a football season game day, the big match between the Gotham City High Bats and the Gotham Prep Knights. For the rich prep kids, this was nothing more than another game, but for your school, this game was everything. This would help your school get the recognition and funding it deserves, and allow some students to be scouted and rewarded for their talent.

Not only that, but Gotham Prep always, every season goes to state, beating out all the other public schools in the city. They haven’t lost a game since the early 80s so there was a lot riding on this game. 

Your role, funnily enough, was representing the school as one of the Gotham City High school cheerleaders. Turns out that the gymnastics classes you took before were actually useful for purposes other than trying to impress Dick. You surprisingly took to cheerleading like a fish to water, liking the competitiveness and sense of belonging that came from joining the team. 

Anyways, you, the cheer team, and the football team were on a bus headed towards the bigger, better Gotham Prep football field. The bus was loud with music and schoolmates hyping each other up for the big game. Ethan, a friend of yours on the football team was nervously shaking his leg and squeezing his helmet so hard you thought it would crack.

Both you and your friend Arya noticed.

“Ethan, the game hasn’t even started yet and I already see a crack forming on your helmet.” You said jokingly, a gentle arm on his shoulder.

He startled, “Jesus Christ (Y/n) warn a guy next time.” Ethan spoke, offering a nervous smile.

“You need to stop freaking out bro. When you do, it freaks out the others on the team.” Arya gently said.

“I know, I know but— but there’s just a lot riding on this game. For a lot of us, this is our only way to get out of Gotham, and if we screw up the finals, we’ll be stuck here forever.” Ethan said solemnly, looking around at all his teammates.

“Well then good thing you guys aren’t gonna lose. Y’all have spent two years training to make this comeback, to make sure that Gotham City High finally gets this win. I promise you’ve worked harder than those assholes at Gotham Prep, so just go out there and put your training to use. Don’t let your nerves get to you, you have no reason to.” You calmly said.

“Yeah—yeah, we have trained harder, haven't we? Yeah, you’re right! We've just gotta go out there and play like we've practiced.” Ethan exclaimed, as if suddenly realizing why he should have confidence in himself and his team.

“Exactly!” Arya said, matching his enthusiasm and hitting Ethan playfully on the shoulder. 

The rest of the bus ride to the stadium was louder than ever, the coach and other teammates taking turns to hype up the more nervous members, to get them confident for the field. Everything was about normal once everyone made it to the stadium. The band was set up, and people were flooding the bleachers. It wasn’t until the last ten minutes before the game when normalcy died.

“Hey (Y/n), isn’t that your family?” A girl, Maya, says.

Lo’ and behold, Bruce Wayne and his entire gaggle of children were sitting on the home side of the bleachers, sporting Gotham Prep t-shirts. 

“What—oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. What the hell are they doing here, they don’t even like football like that!?” You shout in frustration.

It was then when you remembered a conversation Dick, Bruce, and Damian had at the dinner table. Something about how it would help Damian out if he started going to school events and games, getting him acclimated to what being a normal teenager was like. That was all fine and dandy, but you didn't think the entire damn family was going to show up. Oh, the gossip columns are gonna have a field day with this. You could already imagine the headlines, “Bruce Wayne openly isolates daughter (Y/n) Wayne” or even, “The Wayne Family once again publicly shows dislike for daughter (Y/n) Wayne.”

You rolled your eyes at the thought, you had bigger things to worry about right now.

“Are you good (Y/n)?” Arya questions softly. 

She was one of the only people who you spoke your sorrows to, one of the only people who actually knows of just how lonely you were. Of course everyone knew that Bruce Wayne and his family didn't really like you very much– thank you Vicky vale– but nobody but Arya and Ethan really understood the crux of your situation. 

“Yeah, I'm all good bro, don't worry about it. Just focus on the game.” You said dismissively. It didn't bother you anymore, sure it hurt a little bit, but this was expected.

“Alright, its time to shake hands with the other team, everyone line up!” the football Coach, Coach Daniels, all but yelled.

You sighed, moving to the front of the line for the cheerleaders; you were team captain after all. Both the football teams and cheerleaders made their way to the center of the field where they met. You looked back at the rest of your team, you all knew that this was going to be an unpleasant interaction, it always was. The Gotham Prep cheer captain walked up to you, disdain and poorly concealed disgust on her face. You all quickly shook hands, trying to get this exhausting ordeal done and over with, but of course the other captain had to open her mouth.

“You lower end city girls sure have your own sense of style.” Darla, which was basically code for calling you and your team sluts. Wow, how original.

“You should see what’s underneath the jacket.” You replied, giving her a sharp smile.

She floundered, clearly expecting her insult to rile you and your team up. 

“Ugh, as expected of Bruce Wayne’s biggest embarrassment. You sad Daddy doesn't like you? Or maybe she’s just glad she gets to mooch off of him before he ends up disowning her.” Another girl pipes up, drawing mind grating giggles from the rest of their team. You recognized her, she was the daughter of some hot-shot CEO.

You just tiredly look back at your team, a few of them getting angry on your behalf while others looked to you in concern. 

“What, not going to say anything?” The other captain haughtily questioned. 

“I mean, what exactly is the response you’re expecting? Yeah, Bruce Wayne doesn't like me, but at least I didn't have to buy my way into the cheer team or have my daddy pay to make sure I wasn't held back.” You stated boredly.

She was silent in shock, right before the anger came bursting through.

“You whore! I’m going to fuck you up, take you to court and sue you!” She shrieked.

“You’re going to sue me? You mean sue Bruce Wayne?” You snorted, “Like that’ll ever happen. And bitch, you couldn’t fight if your life depended on it, so next time you threaten me remember–I can and will beat the ever-loving shit outta you.”

That must have sparked some fear in her because she just turned around and led her team back to their side of the field. You’re sure others noticed your altercation, obviously having no idea what was being said, but it was clear to both sides of the field that nothing good was said. You’re ready to turn back to your side when you accidentally make eye contact with Tim. The cold, calculating look in his eyes has you shifting in discomfort, you quickly look away as the cheer team and football players head back to their respective sides.

The players took their place onto the field while your team got into formation.

“Aright guys, this’s the big one! Give it all you got, just like we practiced!” You yelled.

Just like that, the whistle blew signaling that the game started. 

By the time you reach half time, Gotham Prep is fifteen points ahead of Gotham High. Your school does its low budget halftime performance which pales in comparison to the extravagant Gotham Prep performance. Your side of the stadium grows louder, louder in support of the football team. Before you know it, the boys are lining up for the second half of the game. Thankfully, Gotham High shoots up in points, the score now becoming 34 to 29. The issue is, the game is starting to come to an end with only two minutes on the clock. The crowd is loud, but everyone knows it'll be damn near impossible for Gotham High to win now. The only way to win would be to score a touch-down, which would bring Gotham High to 35 points.

It isn't until the 36 second mark when Ethan sees an opening and makes a run for it with the ball. The crowd is booming, your own voice adding to the mix of cheers and shouts. 

“Come on Ethan! Come on!” You yell, voice undoubtedly hoarse.

There's 5 seconds on the clock when Ethan dives over an opposing player and rolls into the other team's touchdown zone. The score board changes, the numbers now showcasing 34 to 35. Gotham City High with 35. Everyone goes crazy. You and Arya are holding each other jumping up and down. Holy shit, yall won! The football team was celebrating on the field, as they’re announced as the winners, a big trophy being handed into Ethan and his team's hands. And by tradition, you, Arya and the coach go grab the large gatorade barrel and proceed to soak the football team with it. There are yelps and laughs but everyone knows what it means, it means “you’ve won”. You and Arya run up to Ethan launching into him, uncaring of the gatorade now soaking your uniforms. 

It was a good day, a happy day. Everyone started loading up into the buses, starving for the victory dinner at Taco Bell. You honestly, truly forget that the Bats were even here. Shit hits the fan however, when you're in the middle of messing up a chalupa and Bruce Wayne and the rest of his brood walk in, making awkward eye contact with you. You promptly proceed to choke, Arya hitting your back to get you to stop. You do, but holy shit was that embarrassing. Also, what in the ever-loving fuck were they doing here!? 

Before you could voice your utter disbelief, another familiar face barrels into your table. Oh great.

“Hey ladies, how’d you like the game? Betcha I looked good on the field.” The voice of Adrien, a freshman player on the team, made itself known. 

He even made it a point to flex his arm muscles, hoping to impress you and Arya. You both just looked at each other before bursting out laughing. This poor freshman has been trying to get with y'all all year, despite you and Arya being sophomores. His god-awful attempts at flirting were absolutely adorable and downright hilarious. 

“Guys please don't laugh, I promise I have better pick up lines.” he begs, his demeanor that of a kicked puppy.

“I'm sorry man, you're just too adorable, we can't take you seriously.” Arya says amused.

“Why don't you go talk to one of the freshman cheerleaders? I'm sure I heard Hiba and Darla talking about how good you did on the field.” You pipped in.

“No way! Are you serious!? Oh-uh, gotta blast ladies! See ‘ya around!” Adrien stutters, excitedly scrambling off to go find the girls you mentioned.

You and Arya broke off again into a fit of laughter.

“Were you guys teasing Adrien again?” Comes a lighthearted scold from Ethan.

“Not anymore than usual. Plus, I think we finally got him to pursue girls in his own grade.” You responded, a smug smile on your face.

Ethan just chuckled before sitting down with you and Arya. You all talked and laughed some more, your mood only being slightly soured by the Wayne family’s presence at the table across from yours. You did your best to avoid their not-so-casual glances in your direction. Why they were here is a can of worms you had to marinate on later. But for now, you'd just enjoy the rest of your night.

It didn't take long before everyone started getting ready to leave. Some students had their parents come pick them up, probably to go celebrate the school's victory with their families, whilst everyone else was getting ready to load back up into the buses and head to the school where parents would be waiting for their kids. You, however, would be biking back to the manor on your own. Sure both Arya’s and Ethan’s parents had offered you a ride, but you had declined. There was no need for them to go out of their way for you, especially when they should be spending their time celebrating with their children. You’d honestly just ruin the mood with your shitty circumstances.

So as you threw away the last of your trash and started walking to leave the restaurant, you were not expecting to be stopped, let alone stopped by Bruce Wayne. You froze, not knowing what to do. What did he want?

“(Y/n),” He started, voice lacking any tell-tale emotions, “no need to get on the bus, you’ll be riding home with us.”

You noticed immediately how he didn't really give you a choice, just an order meant to be followed. You swallowed nervously, you did not, under any circumstances want to be in a car with any of them.

“There's no need for that Bruce, I–um actually left my bike back at the school and I can't just leave it there so…yeah. I’ll–I'll see you back at the manor.” You said nervously. You weren't used to talking to him and to be quite frank he scared you.

Bruce of course took note of the fact you had not called him “dad” or “father” and had called home, “the manor” instead. This is when Dick decided to chime in.

“What, you're not going to bike all the way back home, are you?” Dick jested sarcastically.

“Uh, yeah? It's how I get back home everyday.” You mention abashed. Did they seriously not even know how you got home? Whatever, you’re too tired for this.

Bruce and Dick glance at each other, their shared look holding a meaning you couldn't understand.

“Well, it doesn't matter. You’ll just ride home with us from now on.” Dick stated, faux cheer in his voice. 

“Wha–what? Hold up, I can’t just leave without my bike! It’s gonna get stolen or–”

“We’ll get a new one, now stop fussin' and get a move on,” Jason grumbles, cutting you off.

You just sigh in defeat. Why the hell are they doing this? Why now? In the end, your questions don't matter as you get marched over to the waiting Rolce Royce Limo. That was when Arya and Ethan noticed you walking away from the bus, not even noticing the Waynes in their hurry to catch up to you.

“Hey (Y/n), why are ‘ya–oh.” Arya yells out before going silent after noticing the intimidating figure of Bruce Wayne and the even more intimidating figure of Jason Todd.

“Oh, hey guys. So–uh, I actually have a ride back to the manor now so I'm all good.” You say awkwardly.

“That's–that's great! But, what about your bike bro?” Ethan questions worriedly, the awkward and almost tense energy affecting him.

“I'm just going to pray and hope that it's still there when I come back for it tomorrow.”You answer tiredly.

“Damn, well, get home safe and get some sleep. We’ll see you soon girl.” Arya says, hugging you.

You hug her back.

“You too guys, get home safe. And Ethan, good job on the field bro, we’re all super proud of you.” You voice, a small smile on your face while you give him a hug.

“Thanks (Y/n), couldn't have done it without y’all hyping me up.” He says.

“Alright, alright no more sappy, corny lines. Now get on the bus before Coach Daniels pops another blood vessel.” You joke.

“Shit, I didn't even realize that was him yelling! Ethan, we gotta go! See ya (Y/n).” Arya exclaims, practically dragging Ethan to the bus with her.

You wave at them, your smile slowly disappearing as you realize you're about to have the worst fifteen minutes of your life on this car ride. The staring you were trying to ignore when talking to your friends was more prevalent now, making you anxious as you entered the car, squirming and fiddling uncomfortably in your seat as everyone else piled in.

You internally sighed as you heard the door shut and the car engine start. Perhaps it’d be better if you drank acid and died instead, but alas, it was too late for any of that. 

You’d just do your best to stay quiet and avoid the eyes boring into your very being.

[electrosuite]

okay. al. i need something put into words. idk if you've seen it but in "we live in time" andrew and florence didn't hear cut when filming a sex scene. so i was wondering. could you do something where eddie has taken up acting. it's an experimental movie, so y'all are actually fucking. it's unsimulated sex. y'all don't hear cut, but you're so into it that neither of you stop. you don't notice until he cums, then you both remember the cameras.

warnings: swearing, fingering oral sex, descriptive sex, sex on camera

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i saw we live in time opening week and absolutely loved it. put andrew garfield's bare ass in more movies!!!

masterlist

One of the best decisions you'd made was moving to Hollywood to pursue acting. You loved it, and you were a natural. You could make yourself cry on command, you often lost yourself in scenes, and you weren't afraid to get nude on camera. That was something that was pretty common for the 80s, specifically female nudity.

You'd filmed many sex scenes in your career, but they were all simulated. Prosthetics, body doubles, cushions between bodies. But when you were approached to do an experimental film, one with completely unsimulated sex, your curiosity was piqued.

You were told you wouldn't meet the other actor until the day of, which turned out to be the first day on set. You were told that some studios, this one included, preferred to get sex scenes out of the way first and film the rest after. Your first impression of this guy would be when you had sex with him.

So when you were sitting on set in your tight black dress — which would be removed in the scene — and he walked in, your eyes widened. He was very handsome, just your type. He had long curly black hair, he was covered in tattoos, and immediately started joking around with the crew. He was wearing a suit, one which fit his body nicely.

When he spotted you, he walked right over and sat next to you.

"You my co-star?" he asked in a hopeful tone.

"That would be me."

"Eddie." He stuck his hand out and you shook it.

"Y/N."

"You look familiar. I feel like I've seen you in something else before."

"Maybe. Sorry, but I don't recognize you."

"I haven't been in anything big, just a couple of low-budget movies." He noticed your nervous energy. "You okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Sorry, just... I've never done anything... real. It's always been fake sex."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Well, it's a first for both of us, then. It's a first-first for me, I've never done anything like this."

"Really?"

"Yep. Never even taken my shirt off on camera."

"And you're just jumping right in, huh?"

"Why not? If I'm gonna do it, I might as well go all in."

"Well, are you at least experienced?" you joked.

"Oh, I'm experienced. Yeah." You chuckled. "Also, I was told to tell you that they had me go ahead and put a condom on so it wouldn't disrupt the flow or anything. They said you were pretty adamant about it."

"Thank god. I really don't want to leave here today pregnant."

This made both of you laugh, but it was true. That was the most important thing to you when agreeing to do this movie.

"Alright, actors in positions," announced the director, who settled into his chair next to the camera.

Before you could get up, Eddie looked back at you. "Hey, I know we'll be recording, but don't let that stop you from telling me if I'm crossing any boundaries, alright?"

"Okay."

"Promise?"

"I promise. Thank you."

"Of course."

The scene immediately started with the two of you standing at the edge of a bed, inches away from each other. So that's where you went, your calves touching the mattress.

You'd read over the script for this scene numerous times. There was a camera a few feet from the bed, and one strapped onto the ceiling above where you would be laying. Neither of you would speak, just moan.

You were getting more nervous by the second, the lack of space between you two making your heart pound.

"Hey," he whispered, making eye contact with you. "You still good?"

You nodded. "Yeah. I'm good." You got yourself into the acting mindset as they finalized the cameras. "Ready."

"Quiet on set," yelled the director. Everyone hushed, the silence making you realize how many eyes were on you. "Action!"

You reached up and slowly undid Eddie's tie, his eyes never leaving your face. Once it was on the floor, he pulled you in for a kiss. It was gentle yet deep, both of you taking in a deep breath. His hands gripped your sides, your palms flat against his chest.

He reached around you and unzipped your dress, letting it fall to the floor. He then effortlessly unhooked your bra and you pulled it off of yourself. So far this was exactly like some of the other scenes you'd filmed. It was always a little bit nerve-wracking to expose yourself on camera — how could it not be?

He pushed you down onto the bed, his knees on the edge between yours.

He wasn't supposed to kiss you as long as he did. It was only supposed to be a couple before he moved on, but he was going off script a bit. His hand cupped the breast visible to the camera, which was now a bit closer.

He began kissing down to your neck a bit, then trailing along your body. He wrapped his lips around your nipple, his tongue circling it. You couldn't help but tangle your fingers in his hair, knowing it would help the scene.

As he kissed down your body, he maintained eye contact with you, watching to make sure you were still comfortable with this. Once he was to your thighs, he knelt down next to the bed and pulled you by the legs closer to him.

He slowly pulled your underwear off, dropping them on top of your dress. He continued to leave kisses on your thighs, making a genuine and impatient whine escape your mouth.

The feeling of his tongue on your clit made you gasp, your hands immediately finding their way back to his hair. This was weird with cameras, and at first it made it hard for you to really get in the mood.

But he was good with his tongue. You were so used to fake moaning that the real ones that came out of you felt foreign. His hands on your thighs, keeping them spread, were also keeping your hips still.

Usually when you filmed cunnilingus scenes, they kept their mouth closed and just positioned their face between your legs. So it was a foreign feeling to actually be eaten out on camera.

He couldn't stop staring at you, you looked so beautiful. Your head thrown back, back arched, tits out and nipples hard, fingers pulling his hair.

He wasn't supposed to make you cum, the script didn't call for it. He was supposed to do this for about thirty seconds and move on to the actual sex. But he was told that if the scene lasted too long, they could just edit it down. So he decided before even meeting you that he would make sure you had at least one orgasm today.

And it didn't take you long to get there. The camera had moved now so that it was behind him and to the side, getting a shot of his back and your face simultaneously.

"Fuck," you whispered to yourself as you felt your orgasm approaching, and fast. You were worried about how you would look, actually cumming and being recorded. You were trying to remain as calm as you possibly could, but you'd never been eaten out like this.

You were much louder than you anticipated when you finally came, and Eddie had to hold you down to keep you in the shot. When he finally stopped, he was immediately back to kissing you. He was still fully clothed, so you pushed his jacket off of his shoulders.

Instead of unbuttoning his shirt, he just pulled it over his head. He had a beautiful body, and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. You reached down and helped remove his belt, but he took over a moment later.

Within a minute, he was completely nude, and you got a good view of what he was packing. You were told before the shoot that you'd be having unprotected sex, and as you were already on birth control, it wasn't that big of a deal to you. Or at least, it wasn't until you were finally here. Now it was sinking in that you were about to be creampied by a guy you just met less than five minutes ago.

He was already rock hard, the sounds that escaped your mouth having gotten him bricked up immediately. He loved giving oral. It was one of his favorite things in the world. If it was up to him, he would've kept going, gotten you completely out of your mind before fucking your brains out.

He positioned himself back at eye level with you, reaching down and lining himself up with your entrance.

"That okay?" he whispered into your neck as he pressed kisses to your skin. He wasn't supposed to say that, the script calling for no dialogue aside from the natural swears that would occur. But he'd already gone against it, and asking for consent was something he insisted on.

"Mm," you moaned simply, nodding as minimally as possible.

With zero hesitation, he pushed into you, and the gasp that filled the room was almost comical. It was such a perfect porno moan that you couldn't believe it was genuine, even though it came from you.

He stretched you out so much, so perfectly, you weren't sure you could handle much of this. It was almost too much, too good.

He engulfed your mouth into his, kissing you deeply as he immediately picked up his pace. The bed was already squeaking, and your chest was already red.

The camera was above your head now, recording from an angle that showed the top of your thighs and your head thrown back as Eddie began sucking hickeys onto the skin of your neck.

That was when the scene was supposed to end. It was the shortest one in the script, which was another reason they wanted to get it over with first. But when the director shouted "Cut!", neither of you could hear him over the animalistic moans you both were letting out.

In fact, he called it about three times. But you two were so immersed, and your moans were so loud in each other's ears that it was useless. After a moment and after all the equipment was put down, the entire crew left the room and just allowed you to finish.

Out of all the times you'd had sex before, you didn't expect the best to be a completely scripted one. Eddie wasn't lying when he said he was experienced, he knew how to hit every nook in cranny in you like it was the millionth time.

When he felt himself getting close, he reached down and began circling your clit with his thumb. In the movies he'd seen, they always came at the same time. That didn't happen much in real life, but he wanted to make it look cinematic because, to his knowledge, they were still filming.

You gasped at the sudden contact, not expecting it. Thirty seconds later, you were cumming in sync, moaning into each other's mouths. He kept it going as long as he could but eventually he had to stop. Both his and your legs were trembling, sweat beading on your upper lip.

He kissed you for a moment, thinking in his head how great that would look on camera.

But when you both looked over at where the crew was, they were gone. You were confused, wondering why they didn't film as much as possible.

"Oh my god," you said, looking back up at Eddie. "Did they yell cut?"

His eyes widened. "Did they?"

"Did you hear them at all?"

"No, I didn't. Did you?"

"No."

You couldn't help but giggle at the situation. "Holy fucking shit."

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck."

"That's kind of hilarious."

He pulled out of you, pulling the condom off before grabbing one of the robes from the crates behind the camera, tossing another one to you. He opened the door to the rest of the set and the crew's heads shot up to look at him.

"Did... you yell cut?" he asked the director.

"Yep. Three times. You guys were so into it we figured we'd just let you finish."

That was when you laughed even harder, your head fuzzy and body tired.

After everything was cleaned up and you were heading back to your trailers, you caught up with Eddie outside his.

"Sorry we didn't hear cut earlier," you apologized.

"I'm not." He smirked slyly, and you felt butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"Do you think you'd do something like this again? Real sex on a set?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. With the right person."

"Well, if I get another opportunity like this, you're the first person I'm recommending."

"God, please do." His voice was raspy now, seductive, sultry. Normally you didn't pay any mind to men who flirted with you. But something about actually fucking Eddie seemed to form some kind of bond, maybe just in your head.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a napkin, which had your phone number written on it. You leaned in close, wanting this to stay between the two of you.

"Well, if you ever want to do something without cameras, call me." You turned around to walk to your trailer, his eyes glued to your ass the whole time.

He swore he could get rock hard again right now if he wanted to. Something was different about you. You were one of the best fucks he'd ever had, and he intended on using that phone number sometime soon.

[happy74827]

Real Life Fairytale

[Robby Keene x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You tried so hard not to be that girl, but the more you were around him, the more you were convinced clichés could be a good thing.

WC: 712

Category: Fluff, First Kiss

Since Cobra Kai coming back later this month, here’s some fluff with the Marty Mcfly of karate.

『••✎••』

It was a typical cliché, and as much as you hated it, there was something that still pulled at you. Something that pulled you right into the arms of none other than Robby Keene.

Your relationship had been rocky at best; it had started out with him pickpocketing your purse and the two of you becoming friends because, at the time, you believed he was simply returning what you lost.

Of course, when your friendship officially became a friendship, he told you the truth and apologized. LaRusso had offered him a job, and everything he did suddenly became about changing his life and earning his place. He wanted to prove to his father that he was more than just some punk-ass kid from the wrong side of the tracks.

So, how did that bring you to where you are now? How did a guy like Robby Keene, dressed up in Marty McFly attire, become the center of your universe?

The Halloween Bash, of course.

Originally, the entire group of friends, the past feud between Robby and Miguel, had long been forgotten, so they decided to do one big group costume. Demetri thought it would be a good idea to go with the Power Rangers, which was fine, except for the fact that Eli was the only one who actually wanted to be a Ranger. Everyone else was either not impressed or completely clueless about who they were.

In the end, the group split off into their own individual costumes, and that's how you ended up with your favorite movie being used as the basis for your outfits.

It took a lot of convincing on your part. I mean, the dude looked practically identical to the real actor; he was the obvious choice. Throw a Walkman on him, and boom, the costume is perfect.

He blamed it on the hair, which it technically was. Ever since he ditched Dora's cut with Diego, he just became that geeky kid who freaked at the word 'chicken.'

And in all honesty, you truly believed he hated that word, too. Eli said it to bait him once, and he did not go down easily.

It only took you an hour to convince him, but after a while, he relented, and the costume was finalized.

So, obviously, when the two of you walked in with swag that only the 80s could pull off, you stayed for about an hour before Robby got bored and decided ice cream was the cure.

Now, the two of you were sitting on the steps of an apartment building, eating a gallon of ice cream and talking.

You swear, you didn't mean for it to happen, but the way he looked at you with those soft, blue eyes and the smile that could make a nun blush, you found yourself leaning closer.

"I had fun," he spoke quietly, his words dancing over your lips. "Even if I do look ridiculous."

You giggled. "Well, isn't that why we have Halloween? To look ridiculous?"

He shrugged and leaned closer, his eyes searching yours.

"You don't look ridiculous, though," you continued. "I think you look pretty good in a life preserver."

He grinned. "Yeah?"

It was something about the way he said that. The way you could hear the smile in his voice, but most of all, the way he looked at you when he said it. Like he was looking for permission to continue with what was already happening.

So, you answered by leaning in, connecting your lips with his, and giving him all the permission he needed.

His hands instantly flew to your hips, tugging you closer, and you found your own hands wrapping around his neck, deepening the kiss.

It was perfect, just like the movies. You regretted dressing up as Doc Brown, though. Not only was the radiation suit itchy, but you were acting like Jennifer Parker, and you didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Still, with the white hair off and his headphones finding their home around his neck, you figured maybe you'd force him to keep that part of the costume because, the way he was looking at you, you didn't want it to end.

You were sure it wouldn't, not any time soon.

[aryadelvich]

Studying with Luigi

Here’s a story from this request

If you’re looking for more of my work here’s Updated Masterlist

Summary : Luigi has a secret crush on you. Both of you attending the same university. When you ask him for help with math, what starts as a simple study session quickly gets spicy !!

Warning : explicite content 🔞🔞

I don’t know why this song feels like Luigi in college.

Luigi stood in the university hall, leaning casually against a wall as his friends joked around. Though he appeared to be listening, his focus shifted the moment he saw you descending the staircase.

His gaze lingered longer than it should have, tracing the determined set of your jaw and the way you clutched a paper tightly in one hand. There was something different about you today—your usual cheerful demeanor had been replaced by a tense, distracted air.

Then your eyes met his.

Caught off guard, Luigi looked away quickly, his pulse quickening.

"Oh, look. It's Y/N," one of his friends said with a teasing grin, just loud enough for you to hear.

As if on cue, the group turned to look at you. Luigi let out a quiet sigh, his jaw tightening. He had noticed you from the very first day of class but hadn't said anything to his friends. And now, they were practically gawking.

You stopped mid-step, offering the group a polite smile. "Hi, guys."

Your gaze flickered briefly to Luigi, and this time, you greeted him with a smile that held just the faintest edge of teasing.

"Hi, Luigi," you said, your tone light.

His throat tightened, and his response came out awkwardly, barely audible. "H-hi Y/n"

You stepped closer, holding out the paper in your hand. "I need help with applied mathematics. You're taking it as a minor, right? And from what I hear, you're pretty good at it."

"Oh... yeah," Luigi stammered, unprepared for your directness.

Before he could offer a proper response, one of his friends cut in, raising a hand dramatically. "I can help you too, Y/N!"

"Yeah, me too," another added, clearly trying to impress you.

Luigi shot them both an annoyed glance. "Back off," he muttered, though his tone remained light enough to pass as joking.

You raised an eyebrow, amusement flashing in your eyes. “I’m gonna choose whoever scored the highest on the last test gets to tutor me."

The group fell into a brief silence, and then the scores started coming in.

"71."

"82."

"89."

"80."

Finally, Luigi spoke, his voice calm and steady. "95."

Your lips curved into a grin. "Well, looks like we have a winner. Luigi, you're my tutor."

The subtle pride in his expression didn't escape you, though he tried to play it cool.

"How about tomorrow at the library?" he offered.

You shook your head. "I need to study tonight—my retake is the day after tomorrow. Your place or mine?"

Luigi froze, your words echoing in his mind. Around him, his friends erupted into laughter, elbowing each other and exchanging smirks.

"M-my room... if that's okay with you," he managed, his voice suddenly tight.

"Perfect," you said with an easy smile. "I'll see you after class, then."

As you turned and walked off, Luigi stared after you, his thoughts racing.

"Dude, did you hear that? She literally said, 'Your place or mine.' That's your chance !" one of his friends teased, slapping him on the shoulder.

Luigi shoots them a sharp look. "Shut up. She just needs help, that's all."

"Sure, sure," another friend says, smirking knowingly.

But Luigi doesn't respond. He's too preoccupied with the thought of spending time with you alone. Ever since you entered his life, you've had a way of unsettling the calm, logical order he's used to.

[7 PM]

Luigi paced nervously in his room, adjusting the books and papers on his desk for what felt like the hundredth time. He smoothed the creases in his shirt, glanced at the clock, and took a steadying breath.

A soft knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. He opened it to find you standing there, arms full of notes, a faint smile on your lips.

"Ready for an intense night of applied math?" you joke.

He steps aside to let you in, trying to mask his nervousness. "I hope you're prepared to work hard because I'm a tough teacher," he quips.

You laugh as you take a seat at his desk, spreading out your notes. Luigi watches you discreetly, wondering why your presence alone is enough to make his heart race. He pulled up a chair beside you. He sits next to you and opens a notebook filled with neatly organized notes. His subtle cologne lingers in the air, and you can't help but notice how focused he looks when he starts explaining.

"Alright, show me what's giving you trouble," he says, gesturing to your notes.

You flip to a particularly challenging problem. "This one. Honestly, equations like this make me want to quit. Differential equations are a nightmare."

Luigi chuckles softly. "They seem daunting, but once you understand the logic, it's not so bad. Let's break it down step by step."

He explains with patience, his calm voice guiding you through each line. As complicated as the topic is, his methodical approach makes everything click.

"Oh! I get it now!" you exclaim, your face lighting up. "Why didn't anyone explain it like this before? It's so obvious!"

He grins, clearly proud of your progress. "See? I told you it wasn't as hard as it looked."

You work together for a while, your confidence growing with each solved problem. At one point, as you reach for his notebook, your fingers brush against his. The brief touch makes you pause, and you notice him quickly look away, his ears turning red.

"Sorry," you murmur, pulling your hand back.

"It's... it's nothing," he replies, his voice quiet.

The atmosphere grows heavier as you both become more aware of the growing tension between you.

At one point, your hands brushed as you both reached for the same pen. You pulled back quickly, but not before your gaze met his. A flicker of something passed between you—brief, but undeniable. Luigi looked away again, clearing his throat.

Luigi leaned closer to point out an error in your notes, his shoulder brushing against yours. You froze, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was.

"Here," he murmured, his raspy voice lower now, almost intimate.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, taking in the slight crease in his brow as he concentrated. The sharp lines of his jaw, the faint curl of his hair—it all felt too distracting.

"Got it?" he asked, his tone snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Y-yeah," you stammered, focusing back on the paper.

But even as the night continued, the unspoken tension between you lingered, growing in the quiet spaces between words. Neither of you dared to name it, but it was there—electric and impossible to ignore.

A few minutes later, after tackling another problem, Luigi leans closer to explain a particular detail. His proximity sends a wave of nervous energy through you, but you fight to keep your focus. When his elbow accidentally brushes against the side of your chest, warmth spreads through your body, pooling low in your stomach. 

"Sorry," he murmurs, his voice tinged with embarrassment. 

"It's fine..." you reply softly, your voice barely above a whisper. 

But your concentration falters as your thoughts begin to wander. Your eyes trace the lines of his hands—large and strong, with long, deft fingers. Veins crisscross his forearms, disappearing into the back of his hands, and the way he grips the pen exudes a quiet confidence. His arms are muscular, his collarbone defined, hinting at the sculpted frame beneath his shirt. 

Your gaze dips lower, involuntarily lingering at his crotch for a moment too long. You can't help yourself. Luigi has always been a contradiction: introverted and composed, yet brimming with a quiet fire, a confidence you've never fully understood but can't help wanting to unravel. 

Your eyes shift back to his face, and you find yourself studying him anew. His profile is striking—an angular jawline, lips that seem almost too perfect, and a thick beard that he likely trims every day. His brows are bold, framing a gaze that is somehow both piercing and gentle. There's an elegance to his nose and a wildness to his untamed curls, as though he doesn't care enough to control them. 

You're not sure what's happening, what this magnetic pull between you means. And judging by the faint tension in his movements, neither does he. 

"Alright," Luigi says, his voice breaking through your reverie. "I'm going to give you an exercise now. It'll cover everything we've gone over so far. You'll work on it yourself while I keep an eye on your progress." 

"Okay," you reply, nodding eagerly, grasping at the distraction. 

He steps back, giving you space to focus. For a few minutes, you immerse yourself in the task, scribbling out equations and trying to channel all your thoughts into solving the problem. But then you feel him again—standing behind you, his presence throwing your concentration into disarray. Your mind strays to places it shouldn't, thoughts you can't control flaring to life. 

Luigi crouches down beside you, his arm resting on the back of your chair. The closeness feels almost deliberate, his movements steady yet unassuming, as if he's unaware of the way he's affecting you. 

"Look here," he instructs, his voice low and firm. 

He reaches for your pen, his fingers brushing against yours once again. The contact feels electric, sending a jolt through you. He corrects the mistake with a confident stroke, then places the pen back in your hand. 

Your eyes lift to meet his, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. The air between you feels charged, heavy with something unspoken yet impossible to ignore. You both break the gaze at the same time, awkward and unsure. The tension hangs there, undeniable yet unaddressed.

He leaned closer, his curly brown hair falling into his face as he pointed at a particularly confusing problem. "Okay," he said, his voice soft but confident, "tell me what the derivative of this function is."

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip. Your eyes flickered to his face—his sharp jawline, the faint stubble, the way his lips curved into that patient smile. He caught your gaze and tilted his head, his brown eyes narrowing playfully.

"Focus," he teased, tapping the page with his pen.

"I... I don't remember," you admitted, flushing slightly under his scrutiny.

"Hmm." He clicked his tongue, feigning disappointment, but there was a sparkle in his eyes that made your stomach flutter. "Wrong answer. But don't worry, we'll get there."

He scooted closer, his thigh brushing against yours, and you felt a jolt of warmth shoot through your body. His voice dropped lower, almost conspiratorial. "Let's break it down step by step. Think of it like building something from scratch—you start with the foundation, right?"

You nodded, though your attention was less on the math and more on the way his hand gestured animatedly as he explained. God, why does he have to be so damn attractive? His rolled-up sleeves revealed the veins running along his forearms, and you couldn't help but imagine how they'd feel under your fingertips.

"So, if f(x) equals 2x squared plus 3x minus 4," he continued, writing out the equation neatly, "what's the first step?"

Your mind went blank again, but this time it wasn't just because of the math. The proximity was getting to you—his woodsy cologne, the warmth radiating off his body, the way his leg pressed against yours. You shifted slightly, trying to focus, but it was impossible.

"Uh..." you stalled, glancing up at him.

His lips quirked into a knowing smirk. "Wrong again," he murmured, leaning in even closer. His breath ghosted over your ear as he whispered with his raspy voice, "You're not paying attention, are you?"

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "Maybe I need a different kind of lesson," you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Luigi froze for a moment, his pen hovering mid-air. Then, slowly, he set it down and turned to face you fully. His expression was unreadable, but there was a heat in his gaze that sent shivers down your spine. "Oh?" he said, his voice low and velvety. "What kind of lesson did you have in mind?"

You hesitated for only a second before reaching out and placing a hand on his chest. His heartbeat thudded beneath your palm, steady and strong. "One where you show me exactly how much you know," you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your boldness.

His lips parted in surprise, but then his eyes darkened with something primal, something hungry. He leaned in, his nose brushing against yours. "Are you sure about this?" he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

"Positive," you breathed, closing the distance between you.

The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as if both of you were testing the waters. But then his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and everything changed. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you dizzy, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, claiming you in a way that made your toes curl.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were hooded, his pupils blown wide with desire. "If I'm going to teach you anything," he murmured, his voice rough, "you're going to have to follow my rules."

You nodded, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. "What are they?"

A wicked grin spread across his face. "Every time you get a question wrong," he said, trailing a finger down your arm, "I stop. No touching, no kissing, nothing. Until you get it right."

"And if I get it right?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His grin widened. "Then I'll reward you appropriately."

Before you could respond, he grabbed the textbook again and flipped to a new page. "Alright," he said, his tone suddenly serious, though his eyes still burned with mischief. "What's the integral of sine x?"

Your brain scrambled to recall the formula, but all you could think about was the way his thumb was tracing circles on your thigh. "I don't care."

He shook his head, clicking his tongue again. "Nope. Wrong." And just like that, he leaned back, his hands dropping away from you.

You groaned in frustration, but there was a thrill in the challenge, a fire igniting deep within you. "Fine. Try me again."

This time, when he asked another question, you forced yourself to focus, determined not to let him win so easily. And when you finally got the answer right, the look of pure satisfaction on his face was worth every second of torment.

"Good," he purred, pulling you back into his arms. His lips crashed against yours, his hands roaming your body with possessive intent. His touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you as he explored every inch of your skin.

But just as things were heating up, he pulled away again, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Next question," he said, his voice thick with arousal. "What's the limit as x approaches infinity of 1 over x?"

You bit your lip, your mind racing. "Zero?"

He smiled, slow and dangerous. "Correct."

And then his lips were on you again, his hands everywhere at once, until the only thing you could think about was him—his taste, his touch, the sound of his ragged breathing as he whispered your name.

But just as you reached for the hem of his shirt, he stopped you, his grip firm. "Wait," he said, his voice hoarse. "What's the area under the curve of y equals x squared from 0 to 2?"

You blinked, your brain struggling to catch up. "Uh... 8/3?"

He grinned, his hands sliding up your thighs. "Exactly right."

And then he kissed you again, harder this time, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you onto his lap. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other, desperate and wanting.

But before things could escalate further, he broke the kiss, his chest heaving as he stared into your eyes. "Last question," he said, his voice shaking with restraint. "What's the probability of us finishing this without any interruptions?"

You laughed breathlessly, your hands tangling in his hair. "Slim to none."

"That's what I thought," he growled, pressing his forehead against yours. "But I'm willing to take the risk if you are."

His hands slid up your thighs, the warmth of his touch sending shivers through your body. The air in the room was thick with tension, every breath you took filling your lungs with the scent of him—clean sweat, cologne, and something uniquely Luigi. His brown eyes locked onto yours, dark with desire, but still glinting with that playful intelligence that always seemed to disarm you. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "What's the derivative of e^(2x)?"

You froze for a moment, your mind struggling to focus on anything other than the way his fingers were now tracing circles on your inner thigh. Think, think. You bit your lip, trying to recall the formula. "Uh... 2e^(2x)?"

A slow, approving smile spread across his face. "Perfect," he murmured, his voice low and smooth like honey. His hand moved higher, his fingertips grazing the edge of your panties. You gasped, arching into his touch, but he paused, his smile turning teasing. "Next question. What's the integral of sin(x)? If you get it wrong, I stop."

"Luigi," you whined, squirming under his hold. His thumb pressed against the sensitive spot just above your knee, making it nearly impossible to concentrate. "That's not fair."

"All's fair in love and math," he teased, leaning back slightly to give you space to think. His confidence was infuriatingly attractive, and you couldn't help but laugh despite the ache pooling between your legs.

"The integral is -cos(x)," you said quickly, hoping to end the torture.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Brava," he said as he pulled you closer. His hands slid up your sides, lifting your shirt over your head before you could even process what was happening. The cool air of the room hit your skin, but his body heat chased away any chill. His lips found yours again, hungry and demanding, while his hands explored every curve of your torso.

Your fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. He chuckled against your mouth, letting you undo them one by one until his chest was finally bare. Your hands roamed over his abs, tracing the ridges and feeling the tightness of his muscles. He groaned softly, his hips pressing up into yours, and you could feel how hard he already was through his pants.

But before you could take things further, he pulled back again, his breathing ragged. "One more question," he said, his voice rough. "What's the limit as x approaches infinity of (3x^2 + 2)/(4x^2 - 1)?"

You groaned, dropping your forehead to his shoulder. "Are you serious right now?"

"Dead serious," he said, his fingers trailing down your spine, making you shiver. "Answer correctly, and I'll make sure you forget your own name."

You could barely think straight, but you forced yourself to focus. The answer came to you in a haze. "Three over four?"

His smile was wicked as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your neck. "Very good baby," he breathed, his hot breath sending goosebumps across your skin. "Now, let me show you how well I can reward good students."

In one swift motion, he stood, lifting you with him as if you weighed nothing. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and he carried you to his bed, laying you down gently before climbing over you. His kisses trailed down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, each one leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When his lips closed around your nipple, you gasped, your back arching off the bed.

His hands worked quickly, pulling off the rest of your clothes until you were completely bare beneath him. His eyes drank in the sight of you, and the hunger in his gaze made your stomach twist with anticipation. "So beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Before you could respond, his lips descended lower, kissing a path down your stomach until he reached your core. You tensed, your hands gripping the sheets as his tongue touched you for the first time. The sensation was electric, sending sparks through your entire body. He licked slowly, deliberately, driving you insane with the unhurried pace. Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he pressed two fingers inside you, curling them in a way that made you cry out.

"Luigi!" you moaned, your hips lifting off the bed as he worked you with his mouth and fingers. Every stroke, every lick felt like it was unraveling you piece by piece. You were close—so close—but then he stopped, looking up at you with that devilish smirk.

"What's the value of pi to five decimal places?" he asked, his voice steady despite the slickness on his chin.

"Are you fucking kidding me—" you started, but he cut you off with a pinch to your thigh.

"Answer correctly, and I'll finish what I started," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You clenched your fists, frustration and desperation warring within you. "3.14159," you spat out, glaring at him.

His grin widened, and he didn't waste another second. His tongue dove back in, and this time, he didn't stop until you were trembling beneath him, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. You cried out his name, your voice breaking as pleasure consumed you.

When you finally came down, he kissed his way back up your body, his lips claiming yours in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it only heightened the ache between your legs. His cock pressed against you, hot and heavy, and you reached between you to free him from his pants.

As soon as your hand wrapped around him, he sucked in a sharp breath, his hips jerking forward. "Y/n" he muttered, his voice strained. "You're going to kill me."

You stroked him slowly, savoring the way his eyelids fluttered and his breath hitched. But before you could tease him further, he grabbed your wrist, pinning it above your head. "My turn," he growled, settling between your legs. The tip of his cock pressed against you, and you both groaned as he pushed inside, inch by inch.

It was almost too much—his size stretching you in the best way possible—but he gave you time to adjust, peppering your neck with soft kisses. When he finally bottomed out, he stilled, his forehead resting against yours. "Tell me this is okay," he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"Keep going" you replied, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Please, Luigi. Don't stop."

He didn't need to be told twice. His hips began to move, each thrust hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. His rhythm was relentless, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. You clung to him, nails digging into his back as you urged him on. His name spilled from your lips like a prayer, and each time he swallowed your cries with a kiss.

The coil in your stomach tightened again, your second orgasm building faster than you expected. "I'm close," you gasped, your legs shaking around him.

"Me too," he panted, his movements becoming erratic. "Where do you want me to—"

"Inside," you interrupted, the word coming out as a desperate plea. "Please."

He groaned, burying his face in your neck as his thrusts became harder, deeper. With one final push, you shattered, your climax tearing through you like a storm. He followed moments later, spilling himself inside you with a guttural moan. For a long moment, neither of you moved, too lost in the aftermath to care about anything else.

Finally, he rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so you were curled against his chest. His heartbeat was rapid under your ear, and his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. "Thank you," he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You looked up at him, grinning despite your exhaustion. "For what? Being a genius at math?"

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "For trusting me." His expression turned thoughtful, and he tilted your chin up so you were looking directly into his eyes.

You stride confidently through the university hall, a triumphant smile lighting up your face. Spotting Luigi, you rush toward him and throw yourself into his arms without hesitation. 

"So, what did you got ?" he asks, barely able to contain his excitement. 

"Ninety-seven! Luigi, you're incredible!" you exclaim, wrapping your arms tightly around him. The curious stares from other students don't faze you in the slightest. 

"I'm proud of you, Y/N!" he says, his tone full of warmth and pride. 

"Well, I had the best tutor anyone could ask for," you reply with a teasing grin. 

Not far away, Luigi's group of friends watches the scene, their confusion evident as they exchange glances, silently trying to piece together what they're seeing. 

"How about we celebrate properly? Dinner's on me," Luigi suggests, his smile growing wider. 

"Absolutely!" 

Without thinking, you lean in and kiss his cheek, the gesture natural and full of gratitude. Luigi chuckles softly, his ears turning just a bit pink, but he doesn't pull away. The buzz of the hall seems to fade, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble of joy.

GIRLS IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS ASK ME I WILL DO IT WITH PLEASURE !!!! FEEL FREE TO ASK !!!

[beloved-daydreams]

Jurdan gets funnier and funnier the more you think about them and realize how much of a big loser both of them are when it comes to love.

Mfs get married to supposedly "form a trustworthy alliance" -> Cardan exiles Jude the next day to impress her, because apparently his rizz disappears when it truly matters 💀 -> Jude takes it seriously, stays in the human world for months and is salty af -> Cardan cries himself to sleep and writes pathetic little letters to her. Like wow you did that to yourself you dumb bitch 😭

And don't get me STARTED on their dumbass confessions. Cardan's was, I'm pretty sure, 80% on a whim. Like, maybe he had prepared the words in his mind but he didn't plan to confess to her right then and there at such a bad time. Says "well you probably already guessed as much" at the end then RUNS AWAY probably because he's overwhelmed and Jude is left standing there like???? No I fucking didn't guess you liked me lmao??? I'm dumb af bro, should've been this direct from the start :')

And Jude's is also hilarious because she says it kind of hurriedly as soon as they're alone, since she had promised herself to tell him the first moment they get together. Girlie confesses and CARDAN DOESN'T BELIEVE HER 😭 so homegirl has to EXPLAIN in DETAILS when she thinks she started to fall for him, why she started to like him, why she believed he didn't like her and why she felt the need to hide it. And ONLY after that whole ass explanation Cardan's finally like "omg!!! You liked me because I'm clever and funny?!?? Omgggg..."

Those fuckers were really married for months before fumbling their way through awkward confessions because they can't indulge in the thought that the other likes them. Like they were legit EMBARRASSED to admit that they like eachother while being MARRIED. Please this is so unserious, get real.

[venmondiese]

ONE MISSING POINT

-ˋˏ| summary: Failing the class just for one point, and you ask Michael Gavey his help to pass the exam. Tutoring isn't his strenght, neither is yours.

✧ | Pairing: Michael Gavey x reader

✧ | word count: 2.8k

✧ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, public masturbation (m receiving), humilliation, Michael is a virgin and he doesn't last long.

It was practically a tradition that Mr. Bynes posted the results of the class in the (most important) headboard in the whole university, and people practically crowded around the single paper sheet searching for their grades and to see if they were at risk of failing the course entirely. If so, they had to do the mandatory exam which was by no means friendly. 

He isn’t as worried as people around him, trying to make his way in the crowd to see the paper. He had to awkwardly pass through some people crying over it before he could see the paper. 

He approved it all. He expected it, of course, since he always participated and was one of the few who understood something the professor said. Sure, he didn’t have straight 100%, but nothing lower than 80%, which was really good upon seeing some people had more than one 0. 

It was a relief, but again, expected. He shrugs and goes on with his life as he walks away, thinking of going to his dorm and annotating his grades to later on calculate his final average score. 

“Michael! Michael Gavey” a voice calls him, as he sets his feet on the grass. He turns around, seeing you walking closer to him, as quickly as you could. 

“Ehm… yes” he says, awkwardly, looking at you. 

You shared calculus and some other classes, and you were good. Not bright, exceptional or anything, but good. And you were so much better at other things, more social and bold things he doesn’t dare to do. 

“Hi… how did you do?” You ask, slightly out of breath as you try to be polite. 

“Ehm… fine, I guess” he doesn’t get why you talk to him now.

“You passed?” You ask tentatively. “I… I saw your grades, and it was awesome, really impressive…” You hesitate before adding “I am sorry, I know… it’s weird, but… You were like one of the few people who actually passed.”

Michael shrugs. as he nods. “I guess so.”

“And you see…” You say taking his arm to interlock it with hers, as you and your friends did when walking together. It was so womanly, he felt weird. Or maybe everyone did it and he didn’t know…? “I had good grades, I did well in that essay that everyone hated… But I had one test in which I got 40%, because I transferred badly one of the gross numbers, and before you ask, I did calculate it… But since I transferred it wrong, the final value was wrong”

“Ah…” he says, not sure what to say “That sucks”

It didn’t suck. To him, it was like a stupid mistake easily avoidable. 

“Well, I was one point away from pass the course, and I explained this to the professor but… didn’t listen, you know him, he said that one point is missing, so I have to give the exam, and I need like 20%, but still..., and now I desperately come to you to beg you to please help me and tutor me” she says, as she turns to look at him. 

He blinks. He didn’t do tutorings on his free time. He did them for extra money, for credits or whatever reason. 

“Please Mikey!” You say, grabbing his hands. “Please please please, I only needed one more point to pass the class, I know about the subject, and it was a silly mistake. You don't even have to teach me from zero, only... go over the things we studied and that... please!”

He isn’t willing to do this. He doesn’t want to do this, yet he is weak. After all, he is a man. And he isn’t blind, you are pretty. Like out-of-his-league pretty. And you are prettier closer.

“Fine…”

You lean to kiss his cheek with a smile, and you nod. “It’s a date then. Tomorrow in the library? Could it be at four?”

He blinks a few times, trying to process the whole thing. He was supposed to finish the semester quickly, and… now he is caught up trying to teach you so you don’t fail a course, all because his mind betrays him. 

So, he tries to do the whole ordeal as smoothly and quickly as possible. He doesn’t want to do this but whatever. At least you are not dumb on the matter, you know something. He has heard some of the answers you give in the classes, and they weren’t as bad as one would hope. 

He’s sitting at one of the study desks, right beside a large shelf, and the library was with a few other students, concentrated in their own thing. He brought his notes with him, even if it was illegible. He tries not to be impatient, as he checks the clock on his wrist. 

“Sorry for being late, I– I got caught in something and…” You say, and you were breathing a bit heavily. 

“No big deal…” he stutters, as his gaze darts down to your blouse. Logically, since summer was getting closer and closer, you wouldn’t be wearing a sweater, but he didn’t expect… Well, he didn’t know what he expected. 

Why was he being so weak around you?

“Sit, I have my notes to show you…” He says, and so you take a seat by his side as you curiously lean to check his notes. Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, he was very neat in his handwriting, even if they looked like the handwriting of someone in the 1700s.

You are not such a bad learner, and he was rather enjoying teaching you after some time. You actually heard him, as he explained in depth how to have the correct answer for all, as he tries to address everything.  You asked good questions, and pointed at the mistakes he had given you, to see if you could identify them in an exercise. 

As close as you were, Michael could smell how your perfume was nice. It smelled sweet, but not so much that he would like to throw up. Besides, everytime you stared at him, he could feel a bit uneasy, since he got a bit nervous. Your gaze was deep, and he didn’t know what it meant. 

Clearing his throat, he writes a new problem for you to solve. He had done a lot when studying, so he copied one of his. He hopes that focusing on the study will help him to distract himself from the weird feelings around you. 

“Here, try this one” he says, handing the notebook to you. It is complex, but doable. 

He manages to explain really well, as he gets into the theme and all. You do the work, and slide it over for him to check it. 

“You have a girlfriend, Mikey?” You ask softly. 

He looks at you, before turning back to check the answer. “Eh… no” he mutters, trying not to be ashamed. 

You were actually great, you are very tidy when unfolding the exercise and actually took in his advice, he can see it. Yet, you make the same mistake, you took the gross value as the final one. 

He made a circle, and he was ready to explain. 

“He-Oh” he gasps, feeling your hand on his thigh. He was frozen. 

Maybe it fell onto it. Maybe it was by mistake, it was surely by mistake, there was no way it was intentional. And surely it was a mistake how you caressed his inner thigh so… slowly. 

“Oh, did I get it wrong?” You ask, looking at him as if you didn’t have your hand at his thigh.  

He felt his head doing a short circuit, as if trying to understand what this meant. Was he imagining things? He surely must be. 

“Y-Yes, here… here you took the gross value…” he mutters pathetically, he was confused, he didn’t know what was happening. He wasn’t complaining, at all, but what does that mean?

What did it mean that you had your hand on his thigh? Surely, it was something… reasonable. 

“I’ll re-do it” you say, taking the notebook. And you didn’t take your hand away. 

He was frozen. This can't be happening. He's supposed to be helping you with your studies, not... not whatever this is. And yet, his body is betraying him, his skin tingling under your touch, his pants beginning to feel uncomfortably tight. 

He grips on the edge of the table, looking at the ceiling of the library. Suddenly, he is very aware of his surroundings, looking around as if everyone knew that your hand was sliding up as you did the exercise. Women surely can multitask…

“Eh, well, now… we can use the formula… you-you know it” he says, his throat feeling dry as he tries not to whimper. 

“Yeah, yeah. Like the rosary.” You say with a confident nod.

“Yeah… so, what’s the next step?” He prompts you, as your hand is higher and higher, and he is starting to lose his mind. 

“Replace the values, a… with this, and b…” your hand brushes higher and he lets out a little whimper, thinking you were about to stroke his cock… yet it doesn’t happen. It’s a pathetic sound he emits, and he gets red after it. “With this…”

He sees you replace the values, rewriting the formula, ready to be used.

“Right?” You ask, with one of your sweet smiles as if you didn’t know what was happening. 

“Eh, yeah… yeah, that…” he says, trying not to sound that pleased, even if he starts to feel the arousal pool on his stomach.

He starts to feel himself straining against his pants. It was painfully arousing, and he tried to play it cool. He didn’t want for you to notice, as you caressed his inner thigh.

“I… I need a break” he says suddenly, looking at you. 

You look at him a bit pouty even, as he grips on the edge of the seat trying to breathe in and breathe out. “But I am learning” you say to him “I really am”

You were driving him insane. He didn’t even know if he should address the elephant in the room. Maybe he’ll say something about it, and you’ll stop, be disgusted and leave. 

But he tries to keep inside his whimpers, since the library was the worst place ever to do this. Everyone quiet and it’s open for anyone to see. 

“I think… I..” He hesitates, falling to being able to finish a sentence. He moans softly, feeling your hand brush against his notorious erection, and he can’t bear it anymore. “Ah, please…” 

Michael was blushing, embarrassed of it all as he tries not to move his hips to follow the touch of your hand, since it isn’t where he really needs. How could he be so weak? His cock wasn’t even being touched now, but he felt so dizzy already. Maybe it was because, okay, he had never been with anyone else, but it was… embarrassingly little time to be so… needy. 

When he feels your hand on the tent of his pants, he whimpers, the sound too loud and filthy that his left hand goes instantly to his mouth, covering it to mute himself before he does another embarrassing thing that gives them away. 

“Y-You.. You have to stop” Michael murmurs, the words muffled against his palm as he looks at you, glasses sliding through his nose slightly. He was so flustered, he looked cute. 

“Why?” You ask in a pout, not wanting to. 

“I can’t– I need…” He tries to say, to make a coherent thought as your hand moves to follow the shape of his erection. It sends shivers on his spine and he practically melts on the seat as his eyes are rolled back in pleasure. How could it feel so good? “I… I… We can’t…”

He seems so confused with his own thoughts. “We can…” You murmur, looking around as nobody was actually watching them. “If you really want me to stop… I’ll stop”

Michael doesn’t want you to stop. He really didn’t. But he didn’t want to get caught, it would be embarrassing. 

“We are in public” he says, his eyes searching yours. 

“Yes, I know” you say, not stopping the strokes on his cock above his clothes “But look at how much you like it” 

He’s already made a small, wet patch at the front of his pants. Oh, god, he thinks. He looked away, it felt embarrassing, his face feeling hotter as embarrassment creeped into his gut alongside pleasure. 

He liked it, but he was trembling with a mixture of emotions, and he didn’t know what to think. He was so close too…

“Please…” He begs senselessly, he doesn’t even know why he is begging. “I don’t wanna make a mess…”

Your hand touches him with the clothes in between, but the fabric of his light brown pants was thin, and it felt almost delicious. He would hump your hand if you two weren’t in a library. 

“You are making a mess…” You coax him softly, as he tenses his shoulder and falls slightly against yours, as his body was trembling with arousal. 

“I don’t wanna stain my pants” He murmurs embarrassed, in a little voice as he feels his balls tighten up as your hand insists on the head of his cock, stroking it through the fabric.

“It’s hot” you murmur back to him, and your hand is on the wet patch “And when you cum, I’ll feel it here”

He can’t form a proper sentence as he feels you hand caressing his dick, he felt the wetness on the tip of his cock, and even if it was so unlike him, he found himself so aroused. He is on the verge of cumming on his pants, just from the touch of a woman. Damn, you aren’t even touching his cock directly. 

He felt like a teen, needy and so hormonal. He wasn’t like this fromages ago, and he finds himself leaning on you, his forehead against your shoulder as he whimpers softly, his hips searching your touch as he is close. 

The thought of cumming in his pants, making a mess was both humiliating and arousing, as his body tense with each stroke. “I can't… i… I'm going to…” 

His hand goes to cover his own mouth as he reaches his peak, a strangled moan coming from his throat and his hand muffles the whimpers he lets out. He can feel his cock spurting cum into his underwear and trousers. He doesn’t want to call attention, but he cums so hard, his body basically slumps back in his seat as he feels his balls tighten with each rope of cum that his cock leaks. 

You are awfully quiet afterwards, moving your hand away as you clean it and he tries to gain his breath, feeling dizzy already and so pleased. He wants to hide his face in shame, and the other wants to beg you to do it again. 

“I’m sorry” he murmurs.

“Don’t be” you whisper back to him, looking at his wet spot on his crotch. “To me, it was amazing. You definitely made one of my fantasies come true”

He blushes, he feels very self conscious all of the sudden, and he makes sure no one in the library paid attention to them and what they were doing. He moves slightly as if trying to cover up the wet patch on his jeans. 

“You enjoyed it?” You ask him, not pushing him too hard.

“Yeah…” He admits, slightly embarrassed but also very much pleased. 

You look at the forgotten notebooks, and then to him, as he accommodates on the seat and moves his hair slightly as if that would make him go unnoticed by everyone else.

“If it is worth anything, your tutoring did help me tons” you say, taking your notebooks together to save them in your pack. 

He is glad that he could help. Maybe this was your way of repaying? He couldn’t know or decipher it. He takes his things and saves them up in his bag as well. He wanted to go to his dorm and take a shower, and put on pajamas and think about this. 

“I’m not great with words…” He starts, his tone hesitant but trying to overcome it. “But… Thank you. I really… Hm. It was cool”

You smirk, nodding slightly as you appreciate his words. 

“A bit riské” you tease him playfully.

“Yeah…” he chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck. “I am a mess”

As he adjust the glasses on his nose, you hum, “Well, nobody really cares but you and me”

“I can’t believe we did… that… in here…” He mumbles, dumb founded. “And I was… so… I completely lost it…”

“Do girls usually make you… lose it?” you ask in a whisper. “Or do you last longer, and I happen to have magical hands?”

He blushes to the blunt question, looking anywhere but to your face as he avoids answering. “Well, um…” he doesn’t want to admit his lack of any experiences with girls “Girls don’t…. touch me like that” he says in a whisper. “So I can’t say…”

You didn’t judge, looking at him, and you nodded.

“Well, next time we’ll see”

Next time. He looks at you with eyes slightly wide, as he tries not to stutter his words. “Next time?”

“Obviously” You say smiling to him. “If I pass the exam, we are doing it without the pants” You say smugly “And… more”

He was so lucky you missed one point to pass the course.