#i was too warm...ughhh

[jakemyboy]

Oh this little Mr.!!!! Yesterday he decided to walk two blocks, and today, after we walked around our block he decided to leave our block and go out into the world!!! We did one of our old routes, his favorite, and it took almost an hour. So happy for him that he's feeling better mentally, I have felt so sad for him.

[davilishuuu]

Fooling around w Mandy's design

[steve-brules-rules]

I saw @khrysalisposting do a tier list based on music, so I had to do one too lolol ❤️

[avixthecat]

for the first time in a really crabbing long time i actually Want to go outside and Do Things Outside and now its too cold for me to do that

[coridallasmultipass]

.

[cherrygirlfriend]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ tic-tacs

pairing: perv!husband nanami x perv!reader synopsis: your husband wants to breed you. you want your husband to breed you. warnings/tags: smut, unprotected PIV, dubcon ig? MDNI! a/n; short blurb cause i love my mans!!!

nanami masterlist ♡

your husband was pounding into you from behind, your warm cunt clenching around him.

"ughhh..." nanami mumbled, his cock enveloped by your walls, the blond's eyes rolling back in his head as his lips let out words you couldn't make out.

you chuckled, rolling your hips and intentionally squeezing yourself around him. "babyyy..." you giggled, biting down on your lower lip as you turned your head and watched pure bliss take over your husband's face.

you came in sync, your walls squeezing nanami's cock, the man's seed filing you while your moans filled the room.

he pulled out of you, pressing kisses on your face as his cum leaked out of you, "i have a secret to tell you..."

"oh? me too..." you chuckled, a grin taking over nanami's lips.

"i replaced your birth control with tic-tacs."

"oh? well..." you grinned, "i stopped taking my birth control a few weeks ago. so i doubt those tic-tacs affected me."

[undyingdecay]

Ughhh Bob with a breeding kink 😓😓😓

Like him just letting go and going all caveman brain about it after begging you to just let him pretend it'll take😖😖😖

bob’s pull-out game is genuinely awful. like, laughably bad.

which is how you ended up insisting on condoms in the first place—not that it ever stopped him. he’d find ways. not in a sleazy, frat-boy kind of way, not with lines like “i’m allergic to latex” or “it doesn’t feel the same”—no, bob’s excuses came soaked in something too sincere, almost sweet, if it weren’t for how calculated it ended up being.

“jus’ wanna be close to you,” he’d murmur, voice all thick and needy from where he lay slotted against you, his whole body tacky with sweat and arousal, a gleaming sheen of it covering every inch of skin like lacquer. his weight always followed—not rough, but whole. he liked collapsing on top of you after he slid in, his arms hooked under yours so he could wrap around your back, chest pressed to yours, breath fanning against your ear as if the closeness wasn’t just desire, but some primal need to merge. be inside and on top and around you all at once.

you never got the chance to argue. half the time the condom was off before you’d even realized he’d unrolled it—pulled off between sleepy kisses and soft “please”s, left sagging and useless somewhere near your hipbone. once, he didn’t even bother pretending. you caught him, right there in the bedroom light, jabbing something—his key? a paperclip?—into a row of condoms like he was testing for weak spots.

“bob,” you’d said flatly, and he blinked up at you, all wide-eyed innocence. like he might lie. like he might not lie.

“…thought i saw air bubbles,” he mumbled. his cheeks flushed. his fingers fidgeted. you knew damn well he was lying. knew it, and still did nothing.

because what were your options? fight? withhold sex? as if that would’ve been possible with the way he looked at you, touched you, moaned so gratefully every time he was inside you, like it healed something. instead, you started taking birth control—not as rebellion, but as quiet damage control.

you didn’t hide it. didn’t even think to mention it. why would you?

then came the morning—early, light still soft and blue through the windows, your legs sore, your thighs sticky with dried cum. bob behind you with one arm around your waist, trailing down the stairs like a sleepy barnacle. he didn’t even try to untangle, just followed, skin warm and clinging as you went through your morning routine.

you grabbed the small bottle of vitamins, handed him two, and he popped them without looking. a routine. natural. his chin rested against your shoulder as you reached for your birth control.

instinctively, he held his hand out again.

you hesitated. glanced at him with a faint smile.

“do you plan on getting pregnant anytime soon?” you teased.

his brows pinched, lips parted just slightly.

“birth control,” you clarified, still smiling.

and just like that, his expression shifted. confusion first. then something deeper—quiet, raw. hurt, maybe. or worse: betrayal.

his arm fell away from your waist.

“…you’re taking that?” he asked, voice low, soft. as if the question pained him to ask.

you turned, brows drawing together. “yeah. i didn’t think—”

“but why?” his voice cracked. “why would you do that?”

you turn toward him fully now, your lower back pressing against the counter edge, cool marble grounding you—but only barely. you can feel the way he watches you, gaze heavy and warm, like it might scorch you if you held it too long. he isn’t mad. not really. there’s no raised voice, no cruelty. just this awful, quiet hurt, like you’d taken something from him he didn’t even know he couldn’t live without.

and maybe you had.

the pill still sits between your fingers, tiny and pale in the soft morning light, like it’s nothing—just 3mg of synthetic hormone—but his eyes are fixed on it like you’re holding a loaded gun.

you open your mouth to explain, to give him something gentle and sane and logical, but the words clog up behind your teeth. the kitchen feels darker now somehow. close and still. like it’s holding its breath for you.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, the words barely there. you don’t even know what you’re apologizing for. but you mean it. that’s the worst part.

“i—i don’t want you to be upset. i love you. you know i love you. i’d do anything to make this better—”

his voice slices through your chest, quiet but wrecked. “throw it away.”

you blink. “bob—”

“please,” he breathes. “just throw it away. right now. i’ll feel better. i promise. i’ll feel better if you just—just let me—” his voice cracks around the edges, fraying like old thread. “i need to.”

you glance at the counter. at the pill. and you set it down without a word.

he breathes in like he’s just surfaced from under water.

his hands are on you again—gently first, palms warm and reverent at your hips like he’s still afraid you might back away—but you don’t. you let him close the distance, let him slot his body between your legs as he leans in to kiss you, deep and messy and grateful.

“i wanna be inside,” he mumbles against your mouth. “don’t wanna wait. let me… please—let me stay this time.”

you nod, not even realizing you’re nodding until he sighs like it’s relief and drops to his knees.

your sleep shorts are gone in seconds. no teasing, no preamble—just his mouth on you, warm and wet and desperate, tongue working like he’s trying to unravel something inside you, hands wrapped around your thighs like handles, pulling you open as if you owe it to him.

he licks until your legs shake, until your voice breaks, until he’s practically whimpering into your cunt, nose buried so deep you wonder if he can even breathe. when you finally try to push him back—half from overstimulation, half because you need him in you already—he doesn’t budge.

“you taste different when you’re not on the pill,” he murmurs, drunk off it. “sweeter. like your body knows.”

you don’t even know what that means. you don’t care.

“bob—fuck, come on, please?— do it for mommy”

that does it.

he rises like a wave, chest flushed, breath ragged, cock already slick and leaking through his briefs. he tugs them down with a frustrated groan and nearly cries when he presses against your entrance—his forehead drops against your shoulder, his voice high and fragile.

“gonna come so deep,” he moans, sliding in inch by inch. “gonna stay there, i swear—i’ll stay in you. don’t want it to leave.”

your hands thread into his curls, nails dragging at his scalp as he bottoms out. he’s trembling, hips stuttering already before he’s even pulled back. “i’ll be good. i’ll be so good. just wanna give you something—wanna fill you, please, let me—”

the counter digs into your spine. the kitchen lights feel too bright. and still, none of it matters except for him.

he starts fucking you slow at first, rolling his hips up into you like he’s memorizing it—like if he gets the angle just right, your body will take him in and keep him there. his hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, sweat slick between your bellies, every wet slap echoing too loud in the quiet morning space.

you can feel it when he gets close—when the whining gets louder, the thrusts more erratic. he’s babbling again, forehead pressed against your cheek now, voice ruined.

“make me a dad,” he gasps. “let me—please—fuck, i wanna come in you so bad—wanna give you everything—i’ll stay inside forever if you let me—please—”

you pull him in deeper. his body jerks.

then he’s coming—hard—right against your cervix, crying out into your neck, hips twitching with every desperate pulse of cum spilling into you. you can feel it, hot and thick, pooling where you’re still joined. he doesn’t pull out.

doesn’t even try.

instead, he slumps forward, cock still hard inside you, panting against your throat. “don’t move,” he whispers. “i’ll fuck it in deeper. just—lemme stay here.”

and you do.

you don’t even reach for the pill.

[aquasoftware]

Concentration?! (or not…)

Snippet | “Code red, code red, look away, Armin.”

FT | Fem!Reader ✘ Nerd!Armin A.

Desc | An essay deadline is one thing. A handsy boyfriend with zero self-control? That’s something else entirely. You’re stuck on your assignment, and Armin thinks stress relief should come first.

Cw | MDNI, 18+ college au, óraI (f receiving), fīngerīng, bréāst play/worshīp, dīrty taIk, praīse, squīrtīng, créamīng, multi ōrgàsms, beggīng, sóft dóm! Armin, servīce dóm! Armin, hint of geek! Armin too, Armin has a tongue pīercing/wears glasses, aftercare, (1) video game ref, pervarmin, established relationship, he’s obsessed, & semi proofread.

WC ➜ 4.2K | ML

18 min read & Oneshot.

“Ughhh, I fucking hate this.” You groaned sharply, pressing your hands to either side of your head and rubbed your temples aggressively, as a pout scribbled across your sleep-deprived face.

The only thing keeping you remotely sane in your god-awful mood was your boyfriend, sitting quietly in the wooden chair beside you—and the coffee he brought, now growing cold, since you’d been too focused on trying to get work done.

It read exactly nine-thirty, on the blue clock that was obnoxiously ticking, booming against the white walls.

Your essay, due at eleven fifty-nine, practically scolded you for procrastinating all day. And all you could do was stare at the empty screen, not even sure where to begin.

A few minutes passed, and you still had nothing to show for it—just a blank doc and the nagging suspicion that someone out there was actively praying for your downfall.

Next to you, Armin suddenly froze mid-solve on his Rubik’s cube. He sucked in a breath, set it down, and leaned closer.

“Told you I can just do it for you,” he said, shaking his head as he scooted his chair beside yours and rested a warm palm on your thigh. “I hate seeing you stressed like this, angel.” His voice was low, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip.

Except… you weren’t buying that one bit.

Your boyfriend was notorious for distracting you anytime you tried to study or get through assignments. “Can I come over just to be your emotional support?” always had a fifty percent chance of turning into your roommates hearing blaring moans through the wall—not that you were exactly complaining.

You folded your arms and narrowed your eyes, throwing at him, “You think you’re so slick—you just want some pussy!”

“I–I–what? You don’t gotta put it like that,” he gasped, feigning innocence like he hadn’t been plotting this the whole time.

“Maybe I just wanna help relieve my pretty girl’s stress,” he shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Besides, it’s been a while since you had me over, y’know?”

But your eyes caught exactly where his was cemented: your chest—specifically, your hardened nipples poking through your grey tank top.

It felt like he accidentally let you tune into his thoughts for a second, “Code red, code red, look away, Armin.” playing on a loop.

Quickly pretending he hadn’t been caught red-handed, he pushed up his glasses and avoided your gaze, forcing himself to study the band posters plastered around your dorm like they suddenly became fascinating.

“Hm, I wonder why?” you muttered, forcing down a smirk, trying to sound “serious” despite the amusement bubbling in your voice.

But Armin was already onto you.

And he took that as his green light—leaning in with his next array of words.

“Let me at least massage your tits for you,” he responded eagerly, tilting your chin with his finger as he grinned. “I’m sure the brain juices’ll start flowing after that!”

For a moment, Armin studied your face—your baggy, sleep-deprived eyes catching his attention. He leaned in and pressed soft kisses to each of your eyelids, like he was gently announcing that you deserved a break.

You swore your heart melted into a huge inescapable puddle right then and there.

He pulled you closer, hands sliding up slowly, until they cupped your breasts—fingers kneading tenderly.

“Fine,” you muttered, trying to sound annoyed, “just a few minutes, and I’m getting back to—mmph!”

Your own moan cut you off as Armin rolled his thumbs over your stiff nipples, already teasing with featherlight strokes that sent a jolt right down your spine.

He kneaded your breasts like they were soft, warm dough under his fingers and he was the baker annoyingly skilled at his job. His slow, snail-like pace made one thing painfully clear, a few minutes wouldn’t be enough.

His palms pressed into the swell of them through your thin tank top, thumbs rubbing slow, teasing circles that coaxed tiny gasps from your lips.

“Fuck,” you breathed, your voice already more aroused than you meant it to be.

“See? Told you,” he smiled, confident as ever, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “Your brain’s already working better.”

He dragged his thumbs across your nipples again, firmer this time and the friction through the flimsy fabric made your thighs shift involuntarily.

Your body was already betraying you, leaning into his hands like it’d been waiting all day for this, causing him to chuckle at your hesitant nature before.

Peeking over at your laptop, he caught the time at the bottom corner of the screen: 9:36 p.m. The perfect opportunity to be petty.

“Alrighty, a few minutes is up.” He announced retreating his hands, almost going back to his Rubik’s cube until you yanked his wrists, with a deadpan look.

“Armin, don’t piss me off. You’re not funny.” You replied in a dull tone, unimpressed by your boyfriend’s antics. As much as he loved you, he seemed to love getting on your nerves even more.

“What? I thought I’d leave you to your assignment, we agreed on a few minutes, no?”

He lightly snickered, attempting to not full on laugh, but his dimples hinted he was edging towards that route.

You glared, eyes slowly raking over him from head to toe.

“Jeez, you’re so indecisive,” he teased. “Make up your mind, baby. Ask nicely if you want me to keep going.”

Your pleading eyes softened, pouring into his blue ones.

“Babyyy, you’re being a jerk,” you whined, giving him the face of a kicked puppy.

“Yeah, yeah. What’s the magic wordssss?” he sing-songed, almost desperate to hear you beg. Just the thought of being needed had already carved an aching bulge into his jeans.

“Please, please, please—keep going. I need you so fucking bad.”

“That’s my girl,” Armin murmured against your neck, voice low and sugary. “You’ve been like this since I walked in, huh? All tense and pouty. No wonder your boobs are this sensitive.”

He pinched one nipple lightly between his fingers, making you whimper, jaw slack as he twisted just enough to make you twitch.

“Keep making those pretty little noises,” he cooed beneath your jaw, tone drizzled in silk and mischief.

“Let me take care of you, Y/n. Just relax for me…” He began to steadily lift your tank top, like this was a private show made just for him.

He groaned at the sight—like a little pervert—but you weren’t surprised. This was the same man who once shamelessly admitted to sniffing your sweaty bras.

Armin toyed with your hardened buds one last time, giving them a final pinch before trailing kisses all over your bare chest—slow, messy, and greedy—until his mouth latched onto a nipple.

“Armin, aah, fuck…” you moaned, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers tangled in his blond hair.

He knew exactly what he was doing the moment his tongue joined in—his piercing flicking your sensitive nipple while his spit traced hot circles around it. Saliva dripped down in thin, wet lines as he closed his lips around you, sucking harshly like a man possessed.

“F–feels so good, baby,” you sighed, stuttering as he gave the same treatment to your other breast.

Armin only smiled, mouth still blended into your skin, lips dragging heat across your chest while his piercing teased every tender spot. Then he let his hand trail lower, slipping down to your navy-blue panties adorned with a dainty bow.

“Fuck, I don’t get how you expect me to behave—sitting there in just a tank top and panties like that.”

You gasped the second his fingers brushed over the soaked fabric, his thumb lazily circling the damp patch right over your clit—like he already knew exactly where you needed him most.

“God, you’re so soaked, baby,” he whispered, voice steamed with awe. “Just from me playing with your tits?”

His lips curled into a smirk. “What would happen if I gave your pussy a little attention too?”

You whimpered when his fingers finally slipped past the waistband, his fingertip dragging slowly between your slick folds—like he was savoring the first touch.

“Armin—” you breathed, slightly worried about the deadline, yet your hips wriggled, already desperate for more.

“I’m not gonna be long, promise,” he declared, shushing you with a wet, sloppy kiss that left your lips tingling.

You couldn’t even argue—Armin was already lowering himself between your thighs before you could get a single protest out. You were supposed to be working on your assignment, but instead you had your legs spread open, basically inviting him in.

Your hand gripped the desk for support, chest rising as you watched him with anticipation. But then he made one critical mistake—his fingers went to the arms of his glasses, starting to slide them off.

“No!” you whisper-shouted, swatting his wrist.

“Can you keep your glasses on, please?”

You tried to keep your voice down for the sake of your roommates, but your tone made it clear—this was non-negotiable. You always made Armin wear his glasses during sex, so you weren’t sure why he was trying to act brand new now.

To which he only rolled his eyes. In a way, you were like one of his puzzles—he could solve you in seconds.

“Baby, I could definitely eat you out with blurry vision. Shit, maybe even with my eyes closed.”

Your jaw dropped, eyes wide like his words had smacked you in the face. “Oh? Someone’s cocky…”

“You just look so attractive with them on though…” you added softly, fingers threading through his chin-length hair. You massaged his scalp gently, using it as your way of convincing him—knowing full well how easy he was to win over when you got a little sweet with him.

“Fine. You’re lucky I love you,” he muttered with a grin, trailing kisses along your inner thigh. “Kinda wanted a challenge though.”

Just as he hooked a finger around your panties to pull them aside, you interrupted him.

“Wait! don’t you want me to get you a pillow or something?” you asked from your spot in the cushioned wooden chair, eyes locked on the way he knelt in front of you, already on his knees.

Armin tilted his head, raising a brow like you’d asked the dumbest question alive. “I thought you knew I don’t care if my knees hurt. Or if my jaw’s sore. Just let me please you.”

You would’ve said something else—but he shoved his glasses up and promptly buried his face in your cunt.

“Shit!” you mewled, nails faintly scratching the desk as he teased you with the tip of his tongue—soft, kitten-like brushes against your throbbing nub. Your body squirmed, thighs twitching with every pass, toes curling when Armin lifted your leg to rest on his shoulder.

“Hah—wait, Armin, that’s not fair,” you whimpered, breath shaky. His piercing kept nudging your bundle of nerves, and you knew if he kept this up, you’d cum way too fast.

He only giggled in response—a gentle, wicked sound—before spitting a heavy glob of saliva onto your aching cunt. It landed with a wet smack, so loud you wouldn’t be exaggerating to say it echoed.

Warm spit dripped slowly down your folds, making you gasp as your hole fluttered around nothing. Armin groaned like a porn star at the sight of you already so messy for him.

A string of spit bridged from your clit to his bottom lip, rubbing his thumb across it lazily while trying to catch his breath.

He’d never been high before—but off your taste? Absolutely. Every time he went down on you, it was like your sweetness intoxicated him. And right now? He was on another planet.

“You taste so fucking good,” he whined, voice hazy and low.

“Are you creamin’ on my tongue? Fuck, that’s so hot.” His words rumbled against your slit before he dove back in, the hum of his voice almost like a vibrator—except ten times better.

By now, Armin was absolutely wrecked. Glossy-eyed, chin soaked, completely obsessed with your drooling core.

His eyes drooped, half-lidded, tongue darting like he was chasing your orgasm out of you.

Armin loved your moans, but he resisted the urge to touch the boner straining in his pants. Instead, he got even more animalistic with the way he devoured your pussy—like he was starving.

He swished his head side to side, lapping you up like you were his only source of water in a desert.

Your mouth fell open, gasping, eyes fluttering as you struggled to stay present.

Armin wrapped his plump lips around your bundle of nerves and slurped pretending your core was soup, letting the piercing press into it, lugging his wet muscle back and forth. He switched for a moment, lewd noises ringing when he scattered kisses all throughout your slit.

You weren’t exactly sure how your boyfriend got so good at what he called his favorite hobby—especially considering he was basically a virgin loser when you first met.

But that’s exactly why he mentally thanked the Reddit thread with 1.2k upvotes that dubbed this move “the ultimate clit hack.”

He never actually told you that he got the piercing just for your pleasure… but you figured it out eventually, especially once it started working like a damn near cheat code.

“Armin, just like that,” you sighed, like you were stuck in a dream. Your voice was nothing but breathy encouragement as he alternated between quick, eager licks and measured, indulgent ones.

He flattened his tongue on purpose—just so the metal ball could make love to your puffy swollen bud.

You didn’t mean to rut against his face—your body just had other plans. The chair screeched across the hardwood floor as your hips rolled forward, your pearl bumping into his mouth with every desperate grind.

“Am I—” he uttered, yet was too busy gulping you up, “doing a good job?”

Armin asked, he already knew he was doing more than a good job, he was just craving to hear it from his favorite girl.

“Y-yes, yes, yes! You’re… doing s’good,” you squealed, breath hitching as his nose buried deeper into your folds like a bookworm devouring his favorite chapter.

You grabbed a fistful of golden hair, back arching violently when he plunged his wet tongue inside your hole.

That familiar tight coil began to build, inching to snap.

“Arminnn, I’m… aahh—close.” Your tank top strap slipped down your shoulder as you bucked, his face jostling with your movements. One of your legs hit the desk, making it slam against the wall—you just hoped you wouldn’t crack your expensive laptop.

“Already? I haven’t even used my fingers yet,” he mentioned, lifting his face for air, his smirk glistening with you.

“So damn mouthy,” you huffed, biting your lip before grabbing his head by his blond hair and slamming it back down into your needy cunt.

“Put that energy into making me cum.”

Armin wasn’t sure how you went from hesitant to bossy in seconds—but he knew this would be the memory he jacked off to later.

“Mmffph, that’s it—u-use me, angel,” he groaned, voice barely audible as he jammed back into your hole. You rolled your eyes back, vision going white at the way his piercing stroked your velvet walls. Your mind turned to complete mush, like someone was launching rockets inside your head.

The tension snapped like a rubber band.

Your legs shook violently, broken sobs spilling from your throat as your core gushed around his tongue—tsunamis of euphoria soaking him while he kept thrusting his muscle like overstimulation was the goal.

You couldn’t even speak to warn him. Just his name fell from your lips in ragged gasps as he licked you through the high, refusing to stop until your body finally went slack against the chair.

Your chest heaved with each breath, still wrecked from your release. For a moment, your mushy brain almost believed none of it had been real.

Eventually, fanning yourself with a shaky hand, you finally found the words.

“Whew,” you breathed. “That was… a lot.”

Armin lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe the fog off his glasses, sliding them back up with two fingers.

His face was flushed—almost appalled his frames weren’t completely flooded from how wet you were.

He peppered smug kisses along your damp thigh, voice hinted with pride as he whispered like he worshipped you, “I know, baby.”

He let you sit there, still trying to compose yourself—though you could feel the greed radiating off him. His gaze flicked to the drenched seat beneath you, a half-smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

“That’s too bad though,” he murmured, tilting your chin up and pulling you into a deep, messy kiss.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

You kissed like you were famished—like you’d been torn apart for years, despite it being only a week since you last invited him over.

His tongue snuck past your lips with practiced ease, like he could read your mind and knew you wanted to taste yourself on him.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t—because the moment your tongues met, long, helpless moans spilled into his mouth.

His taste, tangled with your own, spun your head so hard you could’ve fainted.

Armin swallowed the sound eagerly, pressing closer—like he wanted to float into your lungs, like kissing you was a privilege only he was allowed to fulfill.

One hand curled at the base of your neck, thumb stroking your jaw with reverence, while the other gripped your thigh with possessive heat.

The kiss grew messier—lips slick, breath shared, each gasp and whimper passed between tongues.

Your nose bumped his glasses. You parted your lips wider, letting him kiss you deeper—filthier. He groaned into your mouth, tongue coaxing yours into slow, wet laps, letting you taste exactly what he’d just done to you.

Your bracelets rattled as your fingers fisted his shirt, body arching into him like muscle memory—like you belonged there.

When he finally broke the kiss, both of you were breathless. His face was tinted a soft rose pink, bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead, as a slick string clung between your lips like a thread of want still trying to keep you attached.

Armin didn’t hesitate. He eased his slender middle finger into your soaked entrance, his palm grinding against your clit in slow, deliberate circles—slick already dripping down onto his hand.

“Oh my god…” You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out, though it was no use—your roommates were certainly going to have a little chat with you tomorrow.

“S-Still… sensitive…” you whimpered, though your hips betrayed you—rocking forward with need. One orgasm hadn’t even come close to satisfying the ache. Not with the way Armin touched you. Not with how his pianist fingers moved like they’d hypnotized you.

He showered your lower stomach in featherlight kisses, practically mocking you. “Awwh, c’monnn, you can gimme one more, right?” he murmured with a soft grunt, his finger curling as your walls clenched around him—squeezing like they never wanted to let go.

“We have plenty of time to spare.” He blinked at you slowly, teasing, blond lashes catching the light like they knew how pretty he was.

At first, his thrusts were maddeningly slow—shallow to the point of cruelty. It felt like he’d sell his kidneys before giving you that second finger, just to drag out your desperation.

Your cunt throbbed with each beat of your heart, fluttering around his teasing touch—yearning for more.

“A–armin, please…”

Your voice came out as a tiny croak. Cupping his flushed face, your fingers brushing against his drenched chin, smearing your own slick across his skin like a mark of ownership—or maybe it was the other way around.

“Yes, baby?” he asked delicately, tilting into your touch like he didn’t just have you spread wide open for him.

His voice was sweet, but his eyes burned with thirst. He adjusted his skewed glasses lazily, with a free hand, your body still trembling around him.

His middle finger paused inside you, then barely moved in slow motion like he was waiting for you to beg.

“Tell me what you need.” His palm bumped into your clit repeatedly, like he longed for your reactions. Your hips writhed, instinctively trying to chase it.

“More—your other finger.” You pleaded, needy for him.

Armin’s cock twitched in his pants at how soft you sounded, how polite your begging had become. He loved when you got like this—fucked-out and obedient, all for him.

“Mmm, so good for me.” He leaned down to kiss your thigh again, lips brushing your skin as he whispered, “You sound so pretty when you beg.”

He rewarded you instantly, sliding in the second finger with an obscene squelch that had your legs twitching around his wrist, your body jolting like it couldn’t decide whether to pull away or draw him in deeper.

Sometimes, Armin was still in disbelief that he went from being terrible at fingering to being so good you didn’t mind begging for more—loudly, without shame.

All it took was thinking of your body like one of his rhythm games, each high-pitched squeal, whimper, mewl was a “Perfect.” Or each toe curl, quiver, and back arch was a “Great.” Just like the scoring system in the game.

It was pattern based, reactive—and it quickly made sense why he’d be so fixated on playing them and getting an amazing score, project sekai prepared him for moments like these.

His fingers began to pump, slow at first, curling slightly each time he bottomed out. The heel of his palm never left your clit—it ground into you with every movement, a steady, deliberate pressure that made your thighs quake and your lips part around gasped moans.

“Woah, look at that,” he cooed, voice husky and airy, awe and cockiness tangled together. “It’s so thick today… my smart girl must’ve been really pent up, huh?”

You couldn’t remember what the essay was about—hell, you barely remembered your name—but you knew Armin had just rewritten your brain chemistry.

“Gonna cum,” you gasped. “So close!”

The wet squelch echoed every time his fingers plunged into your entrance, so eager it clung to him like it never wanted to let go.

“Yeah? Make a mess for me, baby.”

He curled his fingers just slightly and your back arched. The pressure was electric—like he pressed some hidden button inside you that made your brain stutter and seize.

“I love you so much, Armin.”

You whined, grinding down onto his hand with a desperation you couldn’t control, chasing that pressure like a woman starved.

Then he hooked his fingers just right, dragging them along your fluttering walls like he knew exactly where your sweet spot lived—had mapped it out, memorized it.

“Love you so much, f—fuck, fuck, fuck…”

You didn’t even mean to cum this fast—it just snapped. Your body clamped down around his fingers so tightly he groaned, your release soaking his palm while you moaned his name like it was the only thing tethering you to this world.

“I love you too,” he breathed, voice cracking slightly as he slowed his hand, easing his fingers from your soaked pussy with a soft, wet pop.

He kissed your temple gently, his warm palm rubbing slow circles into your thigh like he was trying to anchor you back to earth. “You okay?”

You nodded against his shoulder, eyelids fluttering shut. “Yeah, ‘m fine. Wait…” Your body jolted slightly. “Shit, it’s eleven?!”

Your hand slapped over your mouth as your eyes darted to the time glowing from your laptop screen. If the Google Doc had a face, it’d probably be staring back in quiet, judgmental horror.

“Don’t worry about it,” Armin murmured, already shifting into solution mode. “Told you I’ll do it for you.”

He pulled up the chair beside you with a wince, rubbing the soreness from his knees before sitting down.

“I don’t want you to feel like—“ You started, concern slipping into your tone, but Armin didn’t let you finish. He scooped you up effortlessly and plopped you onto his lap, facing him.

“Sit,” he said casually, pulling you close like you weighed nothing, your thighs draped over his waist.

He kissed the top of your head and reached around to scoot your chair in toward the desk. One hand rubbed soothing circles into your spine, the other already moving toward the keyboard.

His fingertips were a little wrinkly and doused with you, but he didn’t seem to care—focused only on making sure you rested.

“Shhh. Just rest. I got this,” he whispered, his voice gentle like a sleepy birdcall.

“Oh my god, are you hard?” You broke the stillness like a scratched record, suddenly very aware of the boner beneath you trying to break free.

“Uhhh, ignore that. Little Armin gets excited whenever I eat you out.” He answered, completely flustered.

The tips of his ears flushed a powder pink, like he was embarrassed even though he’d just made you cum twice.

You only giggled at him, secretly hearing wedding bells in your head.

Knowing your boyfriend got hard while eating you out only confirmed what you already suspected—he was a keeper.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, cracked his knuckles dramatically, and started typing up a storm, like he could finish the whole essay in ten minutes if he really wanted to.

You slumped against his chest, listening to the quiet tapping of keys. Your eyes drifted shut again, cheek resting right where his heartbeat thudded beneath his shirt.

You just hoped your professor wouldn’t notice your essay suddenly had a different writing style than usual.

Then again… maybe she’d be too impressed to care.

Divider/Boarders produced by omi-resources.

Song written by Koi’lani/@aquasoftware.

‹3 Masterlist!!

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, AND LIKES ARE HEAVILY APPRECIATED!! THANK YOU <3

A/n: First Armin fanfic on this blog, I really hope you enjoyed 😱 I saw the nerd Armin fanart and had to make something for my baby <33 + Please let me know if I should write more for aot!!

[beloveds-embrace]

Part two of the Lavender Marriage au! Considered adding smut to this but I chickened out lmao if the ending is abrupt it’s because of that 🙂‍↕️

The four men are fuming.

Since witnessing the lip-lock battle, they’ve been stewing in barely-contained anger. Every time they see you- on your porch in one of those sweet sundresses, humming to yourself as you water the flower boxes or hand them freshly-baked cookies- they’re consumed by a burning desire to tell you the “truth” about your cheating husband. But the ring on your finger, and your seemingly cheerful demeanor, stop them every time.

Still, they’re restless. It’s wrong to let you live in ignorance like this. But also, it’s not their business even if they want it- even if they want you. The thought of ruining your cozy life, despite your husband’s unfaithfulness, isn’t an easy one to swallow.

It becomes easier to think of admitting it all to you with each passing day, though.

“He’s walking around like he’s done nothing wrong! The bastard. How does she not see it?” Kyle grumbles, gesturing wildly with his tea mug. He grits his teeth, watching your husband saunter inside the house without offering to help you. He just puts down a plate of steak Kyle knows is too fucking cooked. Heathen. Bastard. Ughhh.

“She’s either blind or loyal to a fault,” Johnny agrees, sprawled out on the couch, looking far more despondent than usual. “Breaks ma bloody heart, lads. She’s makin’ us lemonade an’ cookies, an’ he’s aff canoodlin’ wiith some bloke under her roof.”

Simon grunts, his eyes narrowing as he joins Kyle’s side. “What kind of man cheats on her? She’s…” He trails off, unwilling to finish the sentence, but everyone knows what he means: She’s perfect.

Meanwhile, John leans back in his chair, puffing thoughtfully on a cigar. He’s been unusually quiet, though it’s clear he’s just as agitated, fist clenching on his lap. Finally, he speaks, his tone commanding.

“We wait until he leaves,” he says, much to the others’ dismay. “We don’t meddle now. If she finds out on her own, we’ll be there for her. Until then, we keep our mouths shut.”

The others grumble, but they nod in agreement. For now.

You, meanwhile, are oblivious to the internal warfare raging next door. Your days are filled with your usual routine of pretending to be the dutiful wife, gossiping with the neighborhood ladies, sweetly cooing about your hardworking husband, and pretending you don’t know they will gosspi about you after you leave. On the way, you also deliver a basket of homemade muffins to your handsome neighbors.

Such good men; they didn’t even yet know they were your little kitchen rats to taste-test everything you make for the annual baking contest. This year, that bitch Beatrice will not win and you swore it.

“Oh, these look incredible,” Johnny says when you hand over the basket. He flashes you a cheeky grin, and you can’t help but smile back, cheeks warm. “Y’know, if yer husband does not appreciate all this, I might just have ta steal ye away, lass.”

You laugh, waving off the comment as a joke, but the other three men go rigid. “Not the time, mate.” Kyle mutters, elbowing Johnny, though you really don’t notice. Their house is coming along so nicely and so fast; the perks of having handy men as its owners, you suppose.

Later that day, while you’re trimming the hedges of your precious little garden , you spot Simon working on their roof. You catch him staring at you- not that you blame him, you are wearing your one of cutest skirt and top- and you give him a small wave. He almost falls off the roof even if he does wave back, so you decide to just focus on the damned hedges and hopefully avoid any more incidents.

They’re so distracted by your lovely self that they almost forget their rage toward your husband. Almost. Because just as Price and Johnny are helping you carry bags of groceries back to your house, your husband- traitorous bastard- walks out of the house all patient and whistling.

“Be back soon, honey! You know how long my business trips take.” your husband calls over his shoulder, giving you a quick wink before he hops into a car and drives off.

Unbelievable.

The tension is palpable. John glares. Johnny looks like he’s seconds from sprinting after the car. Simon mutters, “Unbelievable,” under his breath from where he and Kyle are watching from the window.

“Oh dear,” you sigh, though on the inside you are very happy. You know your husband’s boyfriend has a nice surprise picked for him- you helped get it, after all- and now you have the house all to yourself again. Perfect.

You turn to John, batting your lashes up at him and it is as if all his anger melts away. “Be my guests this evening, John? I’d be terribly lonely, all by myself in this big house.”

John really, truly, fucking hates your husband for doing this to a precious, lovely thing like you. But at least it means they’ll be the ones in your company.

“Alright, doll,” he nods, fond as he watches the grin stretch across your face. “Let me just go tell the muppets, then we’ll come by and help.”

“There’s no need-“

“I insist, sweetheart.”

That evening, as promised, the four of them come by to “keep you company” and help. You’re in your element, flitting around the kitchen in an apron as you serve drinks and chatter away, oblivious to the tension radiating from the group. You are practically glowing; your pretty flowers were complimented and the food looks so good you can’t wait to post it on your instagram.

Simon leans against the counter, arms crossed, staring daggers into the walls- into the portraits of you and your husband. Kyle is poking at one of the cookies you made like it’s done something to offend him, his mind adrift. Johnny’s chopping away at vegetables, muttering under his breath and wishing it was something else under his knife. And John? He’s nursing his whiskey like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. It might as well be. You talk so nicely about your husband and what he’s customized for you in the kitchen, still so unaware of the truth.

John contemplates just telling you right then and there, but then it happens.

The front door swings open, and in strolls your husband, laughing loudly with none other than his boyfriend- the one the group saw kissing. They’re holding hands, both grinning like idiots.

“Sorry we’re back so soon!” your husband calls out, completely unbothered by the fact that your house is now hosting four very large, very angry military men. “I forgot my wallet-”

The rest of his sentence dies in his throat when he notices the four men staring at him, expressions ranging from pure disbelief to murderous rage. His boyfriend freezes too, glancing nervously between you and the men like he’s walked into a firing squad.

“What the bloody hell is this?” Johnny practically shouts, pointing between the two men with the knife. “You’ve got the audacity to bring him here? Here?”

Kyle crushes the cookie when he slams his fist on the table, standing abruptly. “Under her roof? After all she’s done for you? Again?”

Simon doesn’t say a word because he truly doesn’t need to- he’s just staring, fists clenched, practically vibrating with barely-contained fury.

John finally speaks, his voice low and dangerous, pulling your surprised self against his side protectively. “You’ve got some confessing to do.”

Your husband just… blinks, then glances at you. “Wait, you didn’t tell them?”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I didn’t think it would come up like this.”

“Tell us what?” John demands, his tone sharp. He is still glaring at your husband and the boyfriend

You wave your hand dismissively, like this is the most normal thing in the world with a soft sigh. “Oh, we’re not really married for love, John. It’s just for the benefits- y’know, keeping his parents off his back and mine off mine.”

The room falls silent. Dead silent.

“What?” Simon finally growls, his voice low and dangerous. All this time…

Your husband grins sheepishly, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Yeah, I’m gay. This is my boyfriend. He’s great, isn’t he?” He says, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek.

Johnny looks like he’s just been hit with the frying pan the vegetables he’d been chopping was meant to go in. “Yer what?”

Kyle stares at you, wide-eyed. “You knew? This whole time?”

You shrug, popping a cookie into your mouth. Ohh, Beatrice should count her fucking days. “Of course I knew. We planned the whole thing together. It’s not that complicated, really.”

Simon mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a curse.

“Anyways, we do have places to be,” your husband sighs. “I’ll just get my wallet and leave you all be to your date.” When he returns with his wallet a few minutes later, he kisses your forehead. “Bye, love. I snuck some of the cookies too- Beatrice is absolutely not winning this year, trust me.” And then he leaves at last.

John exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You’re married but it’s just… out of necessity, and you’ve just been… pretending to love him?”

“Exactly!” you say brightly, clapping your hands together. “See? Not so hard to understand.”

The four men just stand there, utterly gobsmacked.

“You mean to tell me,” Johnny starts, pointing an accusatory finger at you after placing the knife down. “that we’ve been stewin’ for weeks over a cheatin’ husband that doesn’t even exist?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” you reply with a giggle, pouring a drink. Your eyes widen then. “But you cannot tell anyone here, in this shitty town, about this!”

“We won’t, love, promise.” Kyle groans, slumping back into his chair. “I need a bloody drink.” And then he perks up when you slide him the drink you just made. “…fucking lifesaver you are, love. Thank you.”

Simon just shakes his head, muttering, “Unbelievable.” under his breath.

John sighs, downing the rest of his whiskey in one go. “You’re going to be the death of us, doll.”

You grin, completely unfazed. “Oh, come on, boys. It’s not that bad.”

The four of them exchange a look- one of disbelief, exasperation, and maybe just a hint of relief. Because as much as they’re reeling from the truth, one thing’s clear: you’re technically single. And that, at least, is something they can work with.

[zorosgirlfriend]

monster trio ~ !! they catch you playing with your boobs

warnings: ehhh, i kinda dunno. boob squishing? teasing, you let them squish it, you moan the few times they squish it, a lil suggestive but no smut happens.

masterlist and rules || have fun reading!

Monkey D. Luffy

You were alone in the your room, stressed out, mumbling to yourself while unknowingly squeezing your chest like stress balls.

That’s when Luffy walked in, stretching.

“Hey, y/n, have you seen my-”

Pause.

Blink.

Head tilt.

“…Why are you squishing your boobs like mochi?”

“LUFFY?!”

You yelped and jumped back, arms flying to your sides. “N-NO REASON!”

He blinked again. “Can I try?”

“WHAT?!”

“They look fun!” he grinned.

You chucked a pillow at him, red-faced. “OUT!”

“Okay okay!!” He laughed as he retreated. “You’re so weird, I love it!”

You thought about it for a moment.

“Fine,” you said, crossing your arms.

“You wanna try?”

You said while blushing.

His eyes lit up like he just saw meat.

“Really?!”

Luffy said with sparkles in his eyes.

You nodded, cheeks warm.

“Just once!”

You shouted.

He reached forward like he was holding sacred treasure…

Squish.

He blinked.

“…Whoa. It’s like jelly but warmer.”

“LUFFY—”

He squished again.

“This is amazing. I didn’t know boobs were this fun!”

You swatted his hands away, face on fire. “Okay that’s enough!!”

“But it’s soothing! Like stress balls with feelings!”

You tackled him with a pillow before he could compare them to mochi again.

And before you knew it, he squished it again.

Squish.

You gasped.

“Ahn—!”

Luffy blinked. “Did you just moan?!”

You slapped your hands over your mouth, wide-eyed. “I—I didn’t mean to!! Reflex!!”

He stared… then burst out laughing. “You sound like Usopp when he eats something too spicy!”

“LUFFY!!”

You tried to run but he grabbed you by the waist.

“Do it again!”

“NO!”

“Please? It was funny!!”

You kicked your feet as he giggled nonstop. “You’re not allowed to squish anything ever again!!”

You said jokingly while giggling as well, feeling kinda turned on.

Roronoa Zoro

You didn’t think anyone was around, so as the stress hit, your hands went up to your chest… squish squish.

“Ughhh…”

Before you knew it, Zoro was already standing in your door.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He said while smirking.

You nearly passed out from how fast you turned.

“Z-ZORO?!”

He was just standing in the doorway with a single raised eyebrow.

“I… was… thinking.”

You said trying to defend yourself.

“By fondling yourself?”

He said while chuckling.

“They’re comforting!”

You pouted.

He shrugged, trying not to smirk.

“Tch. As long as you're not asking me to hold 'em for you.”

You turned red. “I wasn’t—!”

“Yet,” he said, smirking.

“ZORO!”

You stared at each other for a moment.

"Can I try?"

Zoro said with pink ears.

You thought about it.

"Fine..."

You said while looking away flustered.

He gave you a flat look. “Wait—you’re serious?”

You huffed, turning red. “Don’t make it weird, okay? You were curious.”

Zoro blinked… then shrugged.

Squish.

“...Huh.”

“What?”

“They're… firmer than I thought.”

Squish.

“…Excuse me?”

“I mean—they’re soft too! I didn’t mean—I wasn’t—”

You took this as an opportunity to tease him.

You smirked. “You’re blushing, swordsman.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, pulling his bandana down over his face.

You kissed his cheek.

“...Definitely better than dumbbells.”

He mumbled.

He gave them one more squish.

Squish.

“Ah—!”

You froze.

Zoro froze.

Your face turned crimson. “I-I didn’t—!!”

He raised an eyebrow, flustered but smug.

“...You good?”

“No I’m not good!! That wasn’t supposed to come out!!”

He leaned in closer. “Sounded kinda real to me.”

“ZORO!!!”

You shoved his face away while hiding yours in your hands.

“Maybe I’ll squish ‘em again when you least expect it.”

He chuckled.

You squeaked and nearly fell off the bed.

Vinsmoke Sanji

You were grumbling about something and squish squish, you didn’t even realize what you were doing until...

“Mon amour…”

You froze.

Sanji was standing in the doorway, blushing like mad and clutching his nose as he nosebled.

“S-Sanji?! I didn’t hear you come in!!”

You said blushing profusely.

“I must’ve died and gone to heaven…”

He collapsed to his knees.

“IT’S NOT LIKE THAT!

You said feeling even more embarrassed.

“Is it some sort of secret ritual?! Should I leave you be? Or—or volunteer to help?”

He said with a teasing tone.

“SANJI!!”

You yelled.

“Just say the word, my love.”

He winked through the blood trickling down his nose.

You threw a towel at his face while screaming.

"Can I squish them too?"

Sanji said with those signature heart eyes of his.

You look around for a moment before giving in.

"Arghh, fine!!"

You said while blushing again.

“You really mean it, mon amour?”

He said like he just went to heaven.

You nodded shyly.

“Only because you looked like a kicked puppy earlier.”

He dramatically collapsed to his knees.

“This is the greatest honor of my life."

Feeling like he just won the lottery.

“SANJI.”

You yelled out.

He composed himself carefully and gently.

Squish.

He made the most dramatic gasp.

“So soft… so divine…”

Almost getting his nosebleed in your sheets.

“Don’t faint”

you teased.

“Too late”

He whispered, sinking with hearts in his eyes.

“They’re better than dreams… I’ve touched heaven…”

You had to fan him with a towel while muttering.

“This is your fault, y/n…”

Before you knew it.

Squish.

“Aah—!”

you accidentally moaned out loud.

Sanji stiffened, ears red.

“W-Was that… a moan?!”

Your soul practically left your body.

“NO!! I mean yes but no!!”

He covered his nose like it was a nosebleed emergency.

"I’m gonna pass out. I’m gonna die. You’re too powerful.”

You waved your hands frantically.

“Sanji, don’t faint!!”

He collapsed onto the floor, muttering.

“You moaned… I lived for this moment…”

You whined, “Why am I like this?!”

He peeked up and whispered.

“Do it again?”

You told him to get out because you felt like you were about to explode.

[bi-writes]

Does MOB ever just like.. walk up to Simon and like... Grab his ass?? Fondle his tibbies a lil bit?? Give a good squeeze to his cheeks or his milkers?? Cause if he was my husband and he was okay w it I would do that shit literally on sight every day

mail-order bride

you've been staring since he walked into the room.

he's wearing a shirt two times too small. it must be laundry day. either way, your husband looks...bigger than normal. he's cooking, standing at the kitchen counter as he sears off a few pieces of something in a pot, and when he drops a few dashes of soy sauce into the pot, you think a man has never looked so sexy sauteing onions.

he turns finally to the cutting board behind him, and he winks when he meets your eyes. you giggle involuntarily, a shrill sound leaving you because you have the biggest fucking crush on this man.

can men have tits? they can. they do. simon does. and you can see them in this tiny fucking shirt, and now you understand sometimes why your dresses end up torn on the floor of your living room--because you just want it.

"simon--"

"'ello, luv," he hums, licking some sauce off his finger before going back to chopping some herbs that lay on the cutting board. you pad further into the kitchen, coming close, and he looks up finally when you're standing right beside him. "somethin' wrong?"

"you're so hot," you whisper, and simon continues chopping, big arm moving as he leans over into your space a little.

"wot's tha'?"

"you're so hot, simon."

he chuckles lowly, moving the knife under the pile to place into a bowl. he sets down the knife and turns to face you, crossing his arms over his chest. fuck, it's making his chest look bigger, ughhh...

"somethin' the matter? ya sick?"

"no," you whine, reaching over, and he drops his arms when you forcibly move them away, pushing your hands up his stomach, over his pecs, squeezing the firm muscle there. "oh my god..." you lean in, getting on your toes, and he gives in quite easily, kissing you warmly. "i can't believe you're mine--"

simon huffs as you throw your arms around his neck, lifting your leg around his waist, and he bends to hoist you into his arms as you start trying to climb him like your very own tree (which even then might be impossible, with the huge trunk of a man that he is). you sigh when he drops your weight onto the counter, and with less distance between you, you take full advantage--licking into his mouth, feeling and squeezing up his chest, whispering between kisses i love you and is it hot in here or is it just you? and i want this, i want you, please, simon.

"wot's gotten into ya, baby?" simon murmurs, holding you at a distance. you're eager to get back to him, to kiss him again, and you whimper when he holds you firm, making you look at him. "hmm?"

"i don't know," you breathe, panting. you squeeze the back of his neck, whining, and you try and scoot closer. "i don't know, i just...you look so good...i just..."

the smile that spreads across his face takes your breath away. he's not pretty, but he's pretty. his face tells a thousand stories. a missing tooth or two, a cut lip that never healed right, the slashes that have closed over unevenly across his eyes and along his cheek--but why is he so gorgeous? what makes you so feral for this one man, more than you've ever been for anyone else in your entire life?

there's just something about him. something about simon makes him so beautiful. there's a soft heart underneath that solid chest, there's a full belly and warm body under your hands as you explore the ridges and dips of the rest of his body. he's got the stature of a protector, the eyes of a killer, but fuck, he loves like no one else.

he loves you. he loves like no one else does, ever will, ever has, and he loves you.

you giggle as you cup his cheeks, tracing his lips with your thumb, admiring him.

"sorry, it's hard to be serious," you sigh, shaking your head. "just wanna jump your bones, simon."

"me, too, luv."

"then what are we waiting for, simon?"

he tsks, drawing you closer, pressing his forehead to yours.

"no idea, baby. no fucking clue."

[solxamber]

Giving Them Chocolates on Valentine's Day with: Ignihyde

Go here for other dorms

(platonic ortho)

Idia Shroud

You almost regret how direct you are.

Because the second you hold out the chocolates and say, “These are for you, Idia. I like you,” he looks like he’s either going to faint or straight-up perish.

His hair flashes flaming pink. His pupils shrink. His shoulders tense so hard that you can almost hear his soul leaving his body.

“…W-What?” His voice cracks. He immediately clears his throat, gripping his tablet like a lifeline. “You’re—wait, hold up, pause—you’re joking, right?”

You frown. “Why would I joke about this?”

His entire existence malfunctions. He physically leans away from you like he needs to social distance from his own feelings.

“B-Because! You—me—this—!” He waves his hands in the air, looking more and more like he’s about to blue screen. “I mean, what kind of main character energy timeline is this?! There’s no way—this isn’t real life—"

You sigh, crossing your arms. “Idia.”

He flinches.

“I’m serious,” you say, firm but soft. “I like you. You. Just you.”

His breath catches.

His hair flickers again—brighter, more erratic—and suddenly, he’s curling in on himself, gripping his hoodie like it’s his armor.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, sounding utterly doomed. “Oh my god.”

You wait, letting him process.

And then—so, so quietly, almost like he doesn’t realize he’s saying it out loud—

“…I like you too.”

Your heart stutters.

His face flushes completely, and he immediately hides behind his sleeves, his voice muffled as he groans, “Ughhh, don’t look at me, I’m being cringe—”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re fine, Idia.”

“Nope, incorrect, literally having a cardiac event right now, please hold—”

You grin. “Then I guess now’s a bad time to ask if you wanna hang out?”

He pauses.

You watch as his brain visibly reboots, the panic flickering into something else. Something… hopeful.

“Uh.” He fidgets with his sleeves, glancing away. “…You, um. Y’know. Wanna stay and watch a movie or something?”

Your chest warms.

You nod, smiling. “I’d love to.”

Idia freezes again. Then, with one last tiny, flustered squeak, he scoots over on his bean bag, giving you space to sit beside him.

His hair is still pink.

Ortho Shroud

Ortho lights up immediately when you hand him the chocolates, his eyes glowing brighter as he carefully takes the box from your hands.

“For me?” he asks, tilting his head, excitement clear in his voice.

You nod, smiling. “Yeah. I just… wanted to thank you. You’re a great friend, Ortho.”

For a moment, he’s completely still. Then, his thrusters let out a tiny burst of energy, making him hover slightly like he’s too happy to stay grounded.

“Wow!” he exclaims, holding the chocolates close to his chest. “This is amazing! No one’s ever given me Valentine’s chocolates before!”

Your heart melts. “Well, you deserve it. You’re always looking out for me. It’s about time I gave you a gift for once.”

Ortho lets out a delighted giggle as he zooms forward and pulls you into a hug.

It’s warm, firm, and just tight enough to make you laugh as he squeezes you happily.

“Thank you! I’m so happy! This is going in my memory banks forever!”

You grin, hugging him back. “Glad you like it, buddy.”

Ortho pulls back, still buzzing with energy. “Oh! I need to go show Big Brother! He’s gonna be so surprised!”

You chuckle. “Go for it.”

As Ortho zooms off, chocolates safely in his hands, you can’t help but feel lighter, happier.

Because, honestly? Seeing him that excited was the best part of all.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[misayani]

thoughts abt where on your body the yellowjackets women would like to cum on the most nsfw girl cock yjs

jackie taylor — on your lips. she thinks you're so beautiful when you're all kneeled down in front of her while she fists her cock directly on your face. she also loves slapping you with it, and when she's close, she whimpers the prettiest. and then she places her tip specifically above your lips while cum gushes out of her slit. it's like cum lipgloss, and she loveeees making out with you after. sometimes, jackie would make you open your mouth so she can finish inside!!! of course, you have to swallow every single drop that comes out of her. good girls swallow!

lottie matthews — UGHHH she's definitely a face girl. whenever she's close during blowjobs, she'd pull out of your mouth and paint your face with her cum. her stomach twists and turns whenever you stare up at her with your face covered with her slick, nobody else gets to do it to you but her!! she does it even if you're not around .. i'm talking about her jerking off to a picture of you, and then cum on the screen, treat it like it was your face. doesn't care if her load somehow ruins the phone, she has enough money to buy twenty more.

shauna shipman — i think she'd be the type to nottt use protection (wrap b4 u tap). she'll literally raw dog you and just rely on prayers and hopes to not cum inside you. obviously does the pull out method when she's close, then she jerks herself off to finish while her other hand spanks your ass. and then it happens, her orgasm. the clearish white liquid coating your ass that was swollen from her spanking. AND fratboy!shauna would soooo take a picture of that shit, print it on a polaroid, and then add that to her best cumshots collection.

nat scatorccio — boobs!boobs!boobs!! are we surprised? she'll beg you to let her fuck your tits, doesn't matter whatever your cup size it she will make it work. nat is a sucker for pretty boobs, having pretty boobs herself, but she thinks all boobs are pretty anyways. once she comes undone on your chest, she'll kneel down before you and lick her own cum from you to clean you up. will kiss you too after so you get to taste her, wouldn't want it to go to waste. sadist!nat would def get off of the sight of your chest with cigarette burns which were completely her fault.

misty quigley — okay hear me out. first time misty did it was a complete accident. i can see her just tired and overstimulated bc you just felt so warm wrapped around her, and your cunt was sucking the life out of her. so then she couldnt help but cum inside you. the thing is though, she liked it. it was undeniably one of the best feelings that she experienced ever. ever since then she'd be whining and crying to cum inside you everytime you both have sex. something about planting her load inside you .. and misty is a girl that seeks for validation and just wants to feel needed so she loves feeling like she had some sort of power over you just because you let her finish inside!! after, she'll shamelessly stare at your leaking cunt with a proud smile. just a girl admiring her work.

[komorebiisgarden]

forsaken survivors x cat!reader - headcanons .ᐟ

a/n: not sure if i messed up anything due to lack of experience in writing. plus, english is not my native language, so im sorry for any grammar or spelling errors!

general hcs - you have all the charming features of a cat - a tail that sways when you're curious, ears that twitch at every little sound, and, of course, the softest paws imaginable! - oh, and you have some cat-like traits too. man, how are you so adaptable and flexible? you can literally slip through the thinnest corner ever or loop the killer without getting hit. not even once. - basically liquid at this point/hj - whether it’s scratching at walls or leaving marks on a killer who got too close, your claws are a force to be reckoned with. or simply you get bored :p - you have a favorite hiding spot and get grumpy when someone else takes it/ref - you rarely purr, mostly just hiss at everyone in sight lol unless they’re your absolute favorite.

noob - at first, noob don't quite know how to feel about you. they’re both fascinated by your unique traits and a little anxious, unsure of how to approach you. - it takes them time to warm up, but once they do, they find your presence incredibly soothing. probably because you remind them of their old pet cat, tac. - just having you around helps them feel less overwhelmed. - as a cat owner, they know a few tricks to help you relax: scratching your cheeks, rubbing your ears… but the only issue? they don’t have enough confidence to do it. - still, they did try to groom you once. you looked so peaceful that their face turned red like a berry. total flustered mess. - they have a habit of asking you the most unexpected things out of nowhere. “d-do you like b-boxy cola...?” “w-what about... salty food...?” - it’s their way of making conversation, even if it’s awkward at first. - one time, it was just the two of you left, and noob was completely overwhelmed by anxiety to the point that their figure trembled constantly. - without a word, you nudged them gently. that small act alone made their worries fade almost instantly. it melted their heart in a way they didn’t expect. - you see them as a premium napping spot. no words, no hesitation; you just stroll up, plop down next to them and sleep. - noob's honest reaction: OVERHEATING. brain blue-screening. - the argue to pat those small lil' ears of yours when you're sleeping ughhh >>>>

007n7 - he assumes you’ll steer clear once you learn about his past, just like everyone else. but you? you dgaf. the past is the past, and that’s that. - he’s caught off guard by that attitude of yours, almost unsure of how to react. - is this… genuine? the fact that you don’t just tolerate his presence; you actually seem to enjoy it leaves him a little stunned. and, maybe, a sense of happiness. - sometimes, 007n7 catches himself watching you, wondering how you can be so carefree in this ever-lasting hell. - secretly impresses by how fearless you look when looping the killer. you made it seem way too easy. - adores every moment when you try to mimic his clones. it makes him remember about the old time, in a good way. - after every match, you make it a habit to sit beside him during breaks. no hesitation, no awkwardness. just quiet companionship. - if elliot or others don't take care of his injuries, you do, calmly patching him up without a trace of discomfort. - he learns (the hard way) that you have a habit of affectionate arm-biting. whether he likes it or not, he’s your favorite target, and there’s no escaping it😇 - but hey, at least you do knead him sometimes :D especially his burger-hat. - he finds it both silly and calm to hear your soft purrs. something about them just sounds like honey: smooth, warm, comforting. - somehow, being around you helps. both in and outside the rounds. you've kind of become his metal life support at this point. - he asks if he can pat your ears, and you nod. the moment his hand touches them, he's stunned by how soft they are. a second later, realization hits. his face turns bright red as he quickly pulls away, completely flustered </3 - overall, 10/10.

shedletsky - a cat person meets a cat? what do you expect? chaos? check. instant best buddies? double check. - it takes no time at all for you two to bond. something about your energy just clicks with his. - he finds endless joy in teasing you, not caring if you hiss at him in response. in fact, he lives for it. - flicking your ears just to see your reaction/ref - he’s a menace who constantly pats your head just to get a reaction. always ends up with bite marks and scratches. - but does he stop? absolutely not. - your best revenge? stealing his precious fried chickens. he gets annoyed so bad. "you little gremlin- put that down!" - no matter how serious things get, one way or another, you and shedletsky always make it worse in the best way possible. - likes to stay close to you during rounds. either to guard you (cuz you're too curious and reckless for your own good) or to show off his sword skills. it's kinda awesome until he misses the stun. "oops, my bad. time to run!" - since there isn't enough room, when it's your turn to sleep on the couch or floor, he usually offers you his sleeping spot. (or, y'know… you just end up sleeping together :p) - gives off total 'one dares to think, one dares to try' duo energy. he cooks, you eat. you distract, he stuns. - actually enjoys when you knead on him. it's pretty soothing. - attempted to touch your paws once… and yeah, never again. the sacred toe beans remain off-limits. - little do you know, your presence alone is one of many thing that push him forward.

guest 1337 - dang. how hard is it to write for this guy bruh - when you first got kidnapped here, he was the most wary of you, more than anyone else. even when shedletsky took a quick liking to you. - can't blame him though. he've been through a freaking war himself. - might take quite long (like forever) to earn his trust. - it starts small: offering him a boxy cola (which he side-eyes but still drink) or a medkit, sticking around even when he insists he doesn’t need help. then, saving him more times than you can count by alerting him when the killer is near (thanks to your sharp senses), buying both of you some precious seconds to escape. - slowly, he starts seeing something, rather someone familiar in you, none other than his daughter - it's when your relationship with him takes another path. - he's already someone who puts others before himself, but with you, it's even 'worse'. you might have 9 lives, but he refuses to let you waste even one. - he tends to walk straight to you when the round has just started. something about the thought of you wandering alone doesn’t sit right with him. - he's ready to take the hits, insisting he's fine no matter how battered he gets. you have to threaten to bite him if he doesn't take a break. - doesn't make a difference if you have sharp senses of a cat, you are still a curious lil' goofball creature. guest 1337 has to pull you out of those mess you made + lecture you the n+1th time to not touch john doe's spikes or 1x1x1x1's minions. - he doesn’t trust you around his food. rightfully so. the number of times you've swiped a meal off his plate just to annoy him is unreal. - "unbelievable," he mutters while grabbing it back. - gives you a pat as a way of saying "good job," though it's not something he does often.

[hoshigray]

love love LOVEE your toji/sukuna fics, mean big guys have me in a chokehold, but even more so if there’s aftercare right after destroying u , I’d like to see how you write that! No pressure, just a suggestion lol

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: no but you're so valid, idk why i keep forgetting about after care, ughhh!! ty for loving my tojikuna stuff <3

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna + Toji x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size difference - monster-fucking (kuna got 2 dicks) - double penetration; anal and vaginal - cowgirl dp position - breast fondling + nipple play + sucking - biting/nibbling - dacryphillia - unprotected sex - aftercare; taking a warm bath together + tending wounds - pet names (baby, [little] dove, pet, princess, sweet thing) - tojikuna being snarky partners; good luck, lmao - mention of blood, drool/spit and tears.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9k

“Ahaaahhn! T-Tojii, t-too fast, going too fas—Shhaaa!!”

“Heh, y’re complainin’, but y’re the one squeezin’ my dick like crazy.”

“Hmph, right, like some dirty whore…Shit, ass’s so tight…”

You were the partner of both Tōji Fushiguro and Sukuna Ryōmen—a fact that many would be astonished to know and for you to go dizzy thinking about.

How does one lure in the deadly, cursed being proclaimed the King of Curses and a cold-blooded assassin dubbed the Sorcerer Killer? You couldn’t even think of a quick answer to such a question. What you do know is that being a spouse of the terrifying two in this polyamorous relationship was the definition of intense. And that would go for tonight as well.

Being bent and forced to be taken advantage of by your two lovers was nothing out of the ordinary. If anything, it’s almost a daily occurrence when either of them comes and pulls you aside to appease themselves. Nonetheless, what else was a little cute wife like you supposed to do: sit there and look pretty? Not tonight, at least.

You were all confined in your shared quarters, all three bodies atop the futons pulled to the tatami flooring—three bodies stripped from their discarded attire, now nude and meshed together in hot and wanton passion.

Toji was beneath you, yet that didn’t diminish his control over you. You may be straddling him and moving your hips to take in his erect cock into your aching cunt. However, his hands are stationed firmly on your waist, influential to your pace as he bucks into your wetness stuffed on excessive come. The fast ruts make it grueling to find the rhythm—but that’s what the dark-haired man wants, to see you all desperate and wailing from up above. “How ya feelin’, sweet thing?” 

As if you had any room to speak, so winded that wails were the only words you could say. 

“Oi, pet, answer when you’re being talked to.”

And the voice behind you doesn’t make this scene any better.

From your backside, Sukuna’s massive frame hovered over you and Toji’s, his gigantic frame easily dwarfing you both. His lower arms hold you down by the calves, and his upper left keeps him upright from easily squishing his partners. And the upper right crawls up to your throat, suffocating your airways lightly with just his thumb and forefinger.

As the other has you from below, the gigantic cursed man deals with you from above. His lower member is plunged into your rear hole, stretching you to the point of tears with his hefty girth while the other rubs on the crevice of your ass with every push of his hips. The hands on your legs come up to your waist, brushing Toji’s, who moves his to your chest.

His guttural purrs send shivers up to your ears, and the tongue of his stomach probes you with a lick on your sweaty back. “We need words, or else you’ll be crushed without knowing, little dove.”

Because that is what you were: their little wife tending to them as a spouse would. 

You swallow spit before the grip on your throat gets any tighter. “I–I…Feel sho goood…!” You twitch when the behemoth licks and nibbles on your ear so dangerously as if he’s tempted to eat you—he just might be. “—Mmmhh! S-Shoo fuull..”

Toji notices and snickers, “Yeah, baby?” His hands on your breasts are rough, making you whimper. “Doin’ good so far,” he tweezes a nipple, earning a sharp yelp to leave your puffy lips. “Hehm, so adorable, mama…” you cry even more when he pops the other nipple into his mouth; the feel of his tongue on your bud had you hot. 

“—Hnnm!! Fucking hell, this ass…!” Sukuna’s groans are felt, the vibrations rattling your bones. “Keep grippin’ me like that, princess..” He adds more weight and has you howling like no tomorrow. The nails of his fingers leave dents that you’re sure to see later on—just more to add onto the collection harboring all over your skin – bites and marks galore. 

Your eyebrows screw together, drool escaping your agape lips. The laps around your nipple become feverish along with Toji’s thrusts, and Sukuna pistoning his cock so harshly; it makes you wobble, yet you maintain your balance for the older man beneath you to keep sucking and playing with your chest. 

“—Taahh, uhhgg, sh-shiiit,” your hands grip the sheets as your eyes roll to the top–a sign that you were to fall into your release in mere seconds from the constant rubs of your sensitive spots.

Clamping onto their shafts, you shriek during the impending climax, the walls of your holes puckering and contracting around the limbs that graze your sensitive nerves. You finally give in and fumble atop Toji, luckily catching your expected reaction with a smirk. “Fuck, feel so good and tight,” he kisses your cheek and chortles when your arms sling around his neck. “Stay still, baby; let us finish here.”

The two men still undulate their hips, their dicks ravaging your insides even when you’re stuck in your crescendo. You nearly choke on your spit, wailing as you’re forced to submit to their frantic bucks, and the sounds of them moaning and groaning only fuel your ears to clench them even tighter. It has both men hiss and tighten their hold on you, Toji burrowing his face to bite your shoulder while Sukuna’s fangs dig into the other. And you can tell blood was drawn as the giant licks the inflicted marking.

At your scream, they simultaneously bust their loads into your trembling frame, stuffing you with more of their essence in your cunt and asshole. And Sukuna’s upper cock dispels its semen out to paint your back. The sensation of their lengths pulsating inside you has you quiver, hiccupping when they sneak in short yet fierce pounds into your sore holes until their sweaty frames succumb to tranquility. Then, they remove their limbs with a blissful groan to your sob, come sliding and dripping down to your thighs. 

Finally, you sigh into Toji’s chest as he kisses your forehead and kneads your ass lovingly. I can finally rest now…

However, you squeak when your body is pulled upward so quickly, and you’re now being held by Sukuna, who straightens up and stands up. He scoffs, “Relax, dove.” The hand under your legs squeezes the flesh of your thigh. 

Leaving Toji to the futon, the cursed ancient man thunderously strides out to the room two rooms down from the shared room. He slides the shoji door open after the changing room, and you’re instantly met with a wave of humid air from the bathing area. Ripples from the humongous stone bath become more evident as Sukuna closes in, and the water climbs when he gets inside with his massive volume.

He sits, the water sitting above the mouth of his abdomen. He has you sitting on his lap, yet his lower arms still hold you close to his chest. With the upper left, he brings the wooden bucket the servants left behind to scoop with water and pours it gently above your head. 

Your hands wipe the water from your face, but a washcloth and a colossal hand wipe it down for you. “Y-You know, I can clean myself,” you inquire with a scrunched expression as Sukuna wipes your cheeks a little too rough. 

“With your shaky legs, I’d be amazed if you’d even make three steps out of the room.” You pout at his tease, and it only has him want to poke fun at you more. “Like a baby deer trying to walk.”

You snatch the washcloth with a heated face. “Quit it!” Humiliated, you sigh and raise your left arm to dap on the markings decorated on your skin. However, he takes it away from you, his lower left gently grabbing your arm for the lower right to compress the damp cloth on your sore markings. 

“Let me.” He wasn’t asking, leaving you no space to interject his company. He pulls an ointment from the other wooden basket into the washcloth; the lavender scent pleases your nostrils while the minty sensation cleanses your skin. “Sit back,” he orders you, and you allow your back to rest on his torso, watching the man tend to the wounds he and his partner inflicted on you. It almost puts you to sleep, sighing pleasingly and relaxing to the monster’s touch. 

Speaking of, “Wow, so ya leave me at the room to clean up after you two, huh?” Toji enters the bathing space, joining you and Sukuna in the warm water. “What am I, y’r maid?”

“You seem to have walked here on your own just fine.” Sukuna bends to place a kiss on top of your head while the raven-haired other approaches closer. “You have no room to complain, Fushiguro.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you observe Toji come to you between Sukuna’s legs. “Hey, mama, feel better?” You nod to him meekly while he cups your cheeks with one hand. He then brings you to a soft kiss, mewling to his lips while his wet thumb brushes your cheek. “Mmm, so cute…Stand up fr’ me.”

He takes the wet cloth from Sukuna’s grasp while you slowly rise. He helps you turn around to have your back to him, your hands clinging onto Sukuna’s thighs while the giant gives the human male a cream to place on the rag. Toji then rubs circles on the red crescents of your waist–dents marked from Sukuna’s nails–and you jerk and hiss at the contact. 

“I know, sweetie, I know,” he coaxes you with whispers to the ear and a kiss on your shoulder. “Blame ‘Kuna for doin’ a number on ya.”

“Keh, I know you’re not talking,” the salmon-haired one sniggers as he grabs another dry cloth to wipe your collarbone. “I can count with three hands how many of these hickeys aren’t mine.” 

The other barks a laugh. “Now I know y’r ass is lyin’.” The two men humor themselves on the trauma they just put you and your tiny body through, and you can only shake your head at their insufferableness. Yet, at the very least, they’re taking their roles as your lovers to take care of your body. Not so bad, isn’t it?

Especially when the bathing is over, and you’re all clean from the event that transpired an hour ago, sleep stops evading you, and you return to the shared room ready for slumber. To end the night, the candles are blown out, you’re adorning your yukata robe for your soft skin, and Toji and Sukuna wait for you on the futon to conclude this session. 

Toji has you to his right, arm around your figure to keep you close to his warmth. This gives you the view of his easeful sleeping face; the moonlight from the opened shoji window panels makes it easy to trace his handsome features and the deft scar on his lips. To his left was Sukuna, his tremendous size unavoidable, and his strength still evident as his upper arm cages you and the other older man in proximity. The pink-haired beast purrs at the rub of Toji’s hand on his nape and hair, and you giggle at the display—like a giant cat.

Seeing the Sorcerer Killer and the King of Curses act so leisurely around someone is inconceivable; not many live to see such a picture when met with their brute force and killing instincts. And yet, you suppose that makes you more valuable than anyone, their sole and precious partner.

And as you bury your face and let the blanket of sleep take over, you rest for yet another night, knowing you’re in the best care you could ask for.

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[asterafroditis]

𐔌 . ⋮ studying for finals .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆ Third Years x gn! reader

𓏵 930 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff, once again, pardon the French in Rook's part; I just used a translator TT

In honor of finishing my finals hehe >< First Years are done! Second Years are done, too! feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Cater’s cheerful on the outside, but you can tell he’s not super thrilled about studying, he’s more into vibes than vocab drills. Still, he sticks around because he wants to help.

He’ll suggest making colorful flashcards or recording voice memos to make memorizing more fun. He’s surprisingly organized when he has structure.

“Ughhh, do we really gotta go over this section again? Wait, no no—I'm not ditching! Just…brain break time?”

He encourages you with lighthearted jabs that never feel mean.

“Hey, look at you go! If you keep this up, I might have to start copying your notes!”

You’ll catch him checking your focus sometimes, because if you’re serious about passing, then he will be too.

Later he might post a vague Magicam story like “Studying with real ones hits different.” (It’s about you. You just don’t know it.)

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Trey’s the ideal balance of calm and productive. Studying with him feels like sipping warm tea; you feel focused, safe, and cared for.

He’s great at helping you memorize, especially if it’s related to logic or patterns.

If your stomach growls, he’s already reaching for a snack box.

“Take a break. A fed brain is a smart brain.”

When you thank him, he smiles softly.

“Of course. I don’t mind helping you. You work hard, and that matters.”

You leave the session with a full mind and a fuller heart.

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Leona acts like he’s so bored to be studying, but he’s sharper than he lets on.

The two of you probably end up studying while lying in the sun somewhere, textbooks propped open lazily.

He explains things with blunt efficiency and grumbles if you miss easy questions, but never actually leaves.

“Tch. I already told you how to do that. C’mon, you’re smarter than this.”

But the moment you get something right?

“... Heh, See? Knew you’d catch on.”

He never says it, but studying with you keeps him grounded. He’d rather be here than anywhere else.

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Studying with Vil feels like an academic runway—organized, composed, and elegantly intense.

He has high expectations, but he’s not cold—he wants you to shine.

When you struggle, he gently adjusts your notes or posture, never harsh, just… precise.

“Hold yourself with pride. Intelligence and beauty go hand in hand.”

If you impress him, he offers genuine praise, touching his chest like a pleased director.

“Very good. See? I knew you were capable of excellence.”

You leave feeling like you just passed a personal trial. You want to be better around him.

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Studying with Rook is an experience. He romanticizes everything; he calls your learning process “sublime,” your confusion “a poetic struggle,” and your notes “a canvas.”

He watches your face intensely as you read, commenting on how you furrow your brows in thought.

“Magnifique! Such raw focus—c’est inspirant!”

Somehow he knows random facts that are on the exam, and he quizzes you with flair.

He’ll dramatically recite questions like they’re lines in a play, then wink when you answer correctly.

It’s weirdly motivating… and kind of fun.

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When you first ask to study with Idia, he panics. “W-Wait, like, in-person? Together? In the same room??” You can practically hear the error sounds in his head.

But he doesn’t say no. After a few awkward silences and you settling in quietly, he lets you stay.

Idia doesn’t really “study” in the traditional sense—he breezes through calculations and logic-based subjects like he’s speedrunning a strategy game.

He’ll mutter explanations more to himself than to you, but when you ask questions, he’ll blink and repeat it more clearly (and slowly).

“Oh. Uh… right, okay. So if you think of the equation like cooldown rotation, then this variable's basically your setup move…”

He never expects praise, so when you do praise him, he just about bluescreens. His hair flickers pink for 0.3 seconds before he turns away with a rushed “N-Not really… It’s not like I did anything cool…”

The study session ends in silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. Before you leave, he says, without looking up, “If you… ever need help again… I guess I’m around.”

It’s not an invitation, not exactly. But you both know you’ll be back.

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Studying with Malleus is quiet, focused, and oddly soothing. He asks questions that feel more like philosophical riddles, and you both end up tangenting into historical lore.

He’s incredibly patient. If you stumble, he waits for you to find your footing.

“Take your time. Knowledge is not a race.”

He listens to your thoughts with full attention, occasionally giving this small, amused smile when you think aloud.

If you fall asleep mid-study, he quietly watches over you like a protective shadow.

You always leave feeling like you learned something deeper than academics.

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Studying with Lilia is unpredictable. Sometimes he’s wise and composed, helping you connect concepts like a veteran mage. Other times, he’s humming pop songs and offering “ancient” study tips that are 500 years out of date.

“In my day, we wrote essays with quills made from wyvern feathers! So much character…”

He makes learning fun, even if he occasionally leads you wildly off-topic.

He praises your efforts with a proud chuckle.

“You’ve improved so much! I’d say I’m proud, but I’ve always been proud of you.”

You never know what to expect—but it’s always a lovely time.