#these are so cutie too hehehehe

[skitskatdacat63]

Fernando and Oscar too!!!!!!!

[em1i2a3]

Supersonic

Pairing: CollegeAU!Bob Floyd x Fem!Reader!

Summary: When you ask Bob Floyd to tutor you after not doing so well on your first Advanced Theoretical Physics test, you never expected him to say yes, nor did you expect him to be so enthusiastic to teach you the material either.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut and Fluff, Reader is an Engineering Major who is just trying to take a required elective that doesn’t tank their average, Bob is a Physics Major who is an overachiever and is top of his class. We love a good tutor trope y’all, and technically it’s friends to lovers hehehehe

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (y’all, wrap it up), Bob’s a certified munch…What Can I Say? It’s in the holy scripture lol, Oral Sex (fem! Receiving), Fingering, Dirty Talk, Teasing, Hair Pulling, Face Grinding, Bob’s got a bit of performance anxiety (and loves praise, but the man also likes worshipping hehehe), Breast Play, Bob’s giving sub vibes in this, Handjob (I don’t think I’m missing anything)

Author’s Note: Alright. Alright. I heard the crowd lol. I heard the masses, and I finally got around to writing for THE Bob Floyd....And I came out guns blazing on this one. I hope it’s not a let down, I know y’all have been waiting for something from me regarding this cutie patootie, so I’m glad I can please the masses 😂Enjoy!!! (Side note: I’m not a physics major but I took a few courses here and there, don’t strike me down if I don’t get certain things right about the questions please! lol) This was also a request by @shewhocallstothestars but I did modify it a bit (hopefully that's okay.) 😏

P.S: Evil stuff dropping this so casually on a Wednesday afternoon! Lol Surprise tho!

Word Count: 19,626 (HA!)

The first time Bob Floyd saw you, you were late for Advanced Theoretical Physics.

Not embarrassingly late–but just enough for the heavy lecture hall door to groan open and click shut behind you with a sound that echoed far too loudly in the cavernous space. Just enough to make the professor falter mid-sentence, his marker hovering above the whiteboard as heads turned in your direction like a wave.

Your chin stayed tucked, gaze low as you moved up the steps with a quick, purposeful stride that practically whispered “please for the love of god don’t look at me.” Still, it was a walk that carried weight. Not flustered or apologetic–just sharp. Like you were used to showing up in the middle of things and moving through rooms without needing to explain why.

But even if you didn’t owe anyone an apology, you didn’t want the attention.

Especially not in the outfit you were wearing.

You didn’t mean to put on anything eye-catching, but laundry day had come and gone without mercy. Between leading three straight days of exhausting freshman orientation–clipboard, whistle, and all–and trying to get your textbooks, syllabi, and housing situation in order before classes began, your options had run out. So you’d thrown on a slightly-too-tight zip-up hoodie, your college’s emblem half-hidden under the worn zipper, and the only clean bottom you had left: a black skirt you hadn’t touched since the first day of summer.

It rode a little higher than you remembered, and paired with your bare legs and sneakers, it was far from inappropriate, but in a room where everyone else was in jeans and sweats, it made you feel seen. And not in a way you liked.

You spotted a half-empty row about midway up the lecture hall, three seats in from the aisle, and made a beeline for it, holding your skirt down as you made quick strides towards the spot that had your name written all over it. The weight of dozens of eyes prickled against your skin, but you kept moving, zeroed in on that opening like it might swallow you whole and hide you from the ogling stares.

Bob was seated near the end of that row.

His notebook was open, half a page of densely packed notes already filled in with that small, impossibly neat handwriting of his. A mechanical pencil twitched in his right hand as you approached–still mid-spin from the distraction you had caused. He looked like someone who took school seriously, but not obnoxiously so. His light brown hair was cropped short and a little mussed on the top, as though he hadn’t quite decided whether to tame it or not–or the wind got to it and messed it up on the way to class.

He was wearing a white t-shirt–simple, fitted just enough to hint at the softness of muscle underneath, but crisp in that way cotton gets when it’s been folded with care. Not stiff, but starched just slightly from the wash, like maybe he had just done his laundry the night before. His jeans were a classic blue–not faded or overly worn, but comfortably lived-in. No rips or frays.

His glasses were perched low on the bridge of his nose, the thin metal frames glinting faintly beneath the harsh overhead lights–almost silver against the warm tones of his skin. They sat just crooked enough to suggest he’d pushed them up one-handed without really thinking about it. Lenses wide and clear, catching reflections of the whiteboard, but not enough to shield the way his eyes flicked toward you the moment your footsteps slowed beside him.

He looked sun-kissed from the dying summer–like August had clung to him a little longer than it should have. His skin was a shade deeper than it would be in a few weeks’ time, golden along his forearms and the high points of his face, like he’d spent the end of break outside–on rooftops, maybe, or walking alone down sidewalks still radiating heat. His lips were a touch dry, his knuckles faintly rough. But he looked steady. Bright-eyed and well-rested. Like he wanted to start the semester with good intentions and achievable goals.

You stopped just beside him–hovering for half a second, your bag shifting on your shoulder as you nodded toward the empty seat a few spots in.

”Sorry, just gotta get by,” You murmured, voice low and unassuming.

Bob looked up fully then and immediately shifted forward, pulling his legs in without hesitation. His knee brushed the underside of the desk as he tucked himself close to make room for you, the motion smooth but stiff like he hadn’t quite expected you to speak to him. Or maybe he hadn’t expected you to sound like that–soft, a little breathless from the walk up the gauntlet of steps, but still sharp.

You moved past him in one fluid step whispering a thanks, then your scent hit him.

It wasn’t overpowering. It wasn’t the cloying kind of perfume that lingered too long in a hallway. It was just…You. Soft and sweet, but grounded–like vanilla left to steep in warm skin, the subtle warmth of almond or cream trailing just behind it. Lotion maybe. Something gentle. Something worn, not sprayed on. Like it had been absorbed into your hoodie, your neck, the backs of your knees in the early September heat.

But then there was something brighter, just beneath it–like sugar and citrus had melted into the mix. Not sharp. Not tart. Just the idea of lemon. A barely-there twist of brightness that reminded him of the first sip of a drink on a hot day. Cool. Balanced. Memorable.

It made Bob lose all his grip on the pencil in his hand, and made him straighten slightly, as his eyes glanced over to you slipping into the seat three down from his, holding your skirt against yourself so it didn’t ride up when you settled. When you shifted–once, just enough to adjust your bag or maybe smooth your hoodie–his eyes dropped quickly to your legs.

Bare and warm-looking in the stale lecture hall light. The skin smooth, catching little glints of reflection in a way that made him stare too long before he realized what he was doing.

His gaze jerked back up, and his pencil fell out of his hands. He fumbled to catch it before it rolled off the desk and clattered to the floor, and somehow he barely managed to do it. He cleared his throat so quietly that it didn’t even echo under the dome of the lecture hall. And then he exhaled once, trying to shake off the heat that creeped up his neck, fingers curling tight around the side of his notebook.

You didn’t look at him. Not once.

Not even when you pulled out your pen and your fresh, untouched notebook and started scribbling quick, efficient notes in handwriting he couldn’t quite see. Not even when your fingers fidgeted once at the hem of your hoodie like you weren’t sure if it was covering enough. Not even when you tilted your head slightly to the left, exposing the faint shape of your jaw and that one stubborn wisp of hair behind your ear.

You didn’t look back.

But he couldn’t stop glancing.

Every time there was a lull in the lecture–every time the professor turned toward the whiteboard or paused to answer a question from across the room–Bob’s eyes slid sideways. Just for a second. Just to check.

He told himself it was just curiosity. That he hadn’t seen you around before, and that this class wasn’t usually the kind that brought in new faces. Not Advanced Theoretical Physics. Not on day one. And especially not someone like you.

You didn’t fit the mold–not in the way you moved, not in the way you sat. There was a presence to you, even when you were quiet. Like you weren’t just taking space–you owned it. It made him curious. It made him distracted.

It made the last half of his notes nearly unreadable.

He’d rewrite them later. He always did.

But he’d still remember the scent you left behind when you passed him. The subtle trace of sweetness and skin-warmed citrus that had settled in the air like something meant to haunt him.

And he’d remember that you never once looked back.

—————————

You didn’t speak to Bob until the third week of classes, when you got your first ‘mini’ test back and got hit with the harsh realities of the choice you had made in picking Advanced Theoretical Physics for your upper elective.

You got a 68. You had never got a 68 in your life.

Not in high school, not in your other college courses, not in anything that involved formulas or numbers or mental gymnastics you were usually proud to be good at. Being an engineering student was supposed to make classes like this feel natural. Calculation, logic, technical problem solving–it was your bread and butter.

But this? This was humbling.

You stared down at the note the professor had written in red just beneath the grade:

”Revisit your derivations–conceptual understanding needs tightening.” You didn’t even know what the hell that meant. You had studied everything possible to prepare yourself, you knew you had been on the right track, there was no possible way this was the right grade. Your jaw flexed, and you tapped your pen once against the corner of your desk before you forced yourself to still.

You tried to breathe through the sting crawling up the back of your neck, the tightness that formed just under your ribs. This wasn’t even a midterm–it wasn’t supposed to matter. But to you, it did. You prided yourself on being able to handle anything. Being the kind of student professors leaned on. A leader. Someone who could run orientation like a sergeant and still ace quantum mechanics in the same week.

And here you were. With a 68 circled at the top of your page like a slap.

You let the paper fall face-down across your notebook and sighed hard through your nose.

Then you glanced over.

Three seats down, Bob was sitting quietly, glasses low on his nose again, flipping his test booklet over to the back like he wanted to get one more long look at it before class officially started.

You caught a glimpse of the front page as he did–and there it was. Written in the same red your grade was given in, unmistakable in the overhead light.

97.

Clean, confident. Circled big enough to make a statement.

He didn’t look smug about it. Not exactly. But there was something in the way he stared at that number, his brows lifting faintly as if confirming to himself, Yeah, that sounds right. His lips were pressed together in a close-lipped smile, the kind people wear when they’ve worked hard and know it paid off. He tapped the eraser end of his pencil against the bottom of the page once. Then again.

Pleased as punch.

You didn’t mean to keep staring–but it was hard to look away.

His black t-shirt was tucked just barely into the waistband of his jeans today, like he’d rushed to get dressed but still managed to look clean and composed. His hair looked softer, freshly washed maybe, curling a little more than normal without any product in his hair. The sun-kissed flush along his cheekbones hadn’t faded just yet, but it was slowly revealing little patches of paleness beneath it. The silver frames of his glasses caught the light again as he leaned slightly forward, flipping to a fresh page in his notebook to take pre-class notes even though nothing had started yet.

He was…Prepared. Calm, and clearly good at this.

And you were not evidently.

You sat back slowly in your seat, gaze flicking toward the whiteboard, but your mind was still racing. Not with formulas. Not with panic. But with something slower, more deliberate.

You needed help. That much was obvious.

And unfortunately–or maybe fortunately–the only person who hadn’t fumbled through the last three weeks with shaky handwriting and unsure eyes was sitting just three seats away.

Then…You made a decision you never thought you would be making in a class you expected to be good in.

You were going to ask him for help.

It went against every fibre in your being–the pride you carried like a shield, the belief that if you just studied harder, dug deeper, figured it out on your own, you’d make it through. That’s how it had always worked before. You didn’t need tutors. You didn’t ask for things.

But your test score was still burning a hole through your notebook, and Bob Floyd was still sitting three seats down, calmly annotating equations while half the class looked like they were on the verge of weeping. He definitely had the highest mark and there was no denying that, and you had to pick his brain to see if you could emulate the same genius level thinking. Maybe there was a secret to it all, and he would somehow share it with you so you could make a quick recovery and still grasp honours at the end of the semester…At this point you’d take even the craziest solutions to save yourself from another embarrassing mark.

So…You waited until the end of the lecture.

It took everything in you not to bolt out the second the professor dismissed the room. You always left quickly–efficiently–avoiding the post-class shuffle of students with questions or headphones already in. But today you stayed seated, even as the sound of backpacks zipping and notebooks slamming shut rose around you like thunder. You didn’t move, just flicked your pen closed and kept your eyes on the spiral binding of your notes until most of the room had emptied.

You packed up faster than usual, sweeping your things into your bag in quiet, practiced movements–but you left your test out, folded once, red ink still just barely visible beneath the crease. Your hands felt warm. A little clammy. The kind of nervous energy you hadn’t felt since your very first midterm in undergrad. But you stood anyway.

Bob was still at his desk, leaning forward, transcribing the last few formulas the professor had scribbled across the bottom corner of the board. His notebook looked the same as always–clean lines, small print, mechanical pencil pressed tight to the paper like he didn’t know how to be imprecise.

You made your way down the row, test in hand, and stopped just short of his space. The words were already forming in your mouth, even before he noticed you.

You cleared your throat. “Hey… Sorry to bother you. You’re Bob, right?”

His head snapped up fast, and his eyes locked onto yours like he hadn’t expected you to actually exist this close.

“Uh–yeah,” He replied, “Yeah. Bob Floyd.”

You’d caught him off guard. You could tell by the way he blinked, like he had to reset. His mouth parted slightly, lips soft and chapped in the middle, and then–almost as if he remembered he was supposed to be someone in this moment–he cleared his throat and sat up straighter.

“You’re…Y/N? Right?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He held out his hand, a little unsure. “Nice to meet you.”

You hesitated for a beat–because it wasn’t every day someone in a physics class offered a handshake–but you took it. His palm was warm and dry, his grip a little firm at first, like he hadn’t meant for it to feel that strong.

His fingers were long. His nails clean, almost manicured in a way that surprised you. His thumb brushed yours briefly, and for a second, the contact lingered just a little too long.

You let go, and Bob rubbed his hand on the knee of his jeans as you both sat in the pause that followed, air slightly charged.

You weren’t wearing anything special today–just an old cropped t-shirt that rode up when you lifted your arms and a pair of low-slung sweatpants that had long since given up trying to cling to your hips. A hoodie hung open over it all, soft with wear. It wasn’t much. Just lazy comfort. But something in the way Bob’s eyes dropped for half a second–just below the hem to a flicker of skin at your waist–told you it wasn’t invisible either.

He gulped again, trying to recover from being caught.

You cleared your throat. “So, uh… I was wondering if you offer tutoring or something. I kinda bombed that first mini quiz.” His brows lifted over the rim of his glasses–an expression halfway between surprise and amusement.

“I…I don’t offer it or anything,” He said, already fumbling a little, “But I can help, if that’s what you’re looking for…How bad did you do?” He asked, trying not to assume the worst, but knowing there was a possibility he was going to see a fairly bad mark, judging by the conversations that happened behind him when the tests were handed out at the beginning of class. You flipped the test open toward him, and he stared at the 68, a smirk drawing up on his lips. He let out a short, soft laugh through his nose, more of a warm exhale than anything mean.

”I mean…It’s not great, but I’ve seen worse.” You raised your eyebrows at him and smirked faintly.

”How comforting.” You mumbled. He shifted in his seat, thumb rubbing across the corner of his notebook like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. His gaze didn’t meet yours directly; it just hovered somewhere around your shoulder, your mouth, and your hair. He was still absorbing the fact you were in front of him asking to be tutored.

“I can definitely help you bring your grade up. It’s early enough in the semester to get it back on track.” He explained. Something in his voice steadied–like the gears in his brain had finally clicked into place. Like this was territory he knew how to navigate. Structure. Process. Solutions. A small smile tugged at your lips. A breath of relief rushed through you before you could stop it.

“Thank you so much,” You replied. And then, already leaning in with eagerness, “When can we get started?” Bob paused, chewing on the inside of his cheek as his eyes flicked slightly upward–thinking, scanning the mental file cabinet of his day.

“We could do today…You could meet me at the library,” He suggested, after a second, “I'm free after four.” You wrinkled your nose a little, already shaking your head.

“The library’s kind of a distraction for me,” You admitted. “It’s always too loud–someone’s always coughing or typing like they’re in a race. Even the reserved study rooms…I don’t know, it never really works for me.”

Bob tilted his head a little, listening closely, waiting for you to present a different option.

You hesitated for just a second before offering, more carefully now, “If you feel okay with it…We could study at my dorm? It’s definitely quieter. And there’s not much to get distracted by.”

You didn’t say it with any kind of tone. No flirt, no implication. Just facts. Just a space.

But Bob’s throat tightened anyway.

His mind, helpful as ever, immediately conjured the image–your dorm. What it looked like. What it might smell like. You curled up in your desk chair, with your hair pushed out of your face, sleeves rolled, and a half-empty mug of tea or coffee next to an open binder. Maybe your bed was still unmade. Maybe there was a bottle of lotion on your nightstand in the same scent that clung to you now, soft and sweet and skin-warmed.

He swallowed.

Hard.

Not because he had any ulterior motives. Not because he thought anything would happen. But because it had been a long time since he’d been invited into someone’s space like that. A woman’s space. A woman like you–all sharp eyes and soft smiles, casual comfort and effortless pull.

“Yeah,” He agreed, clearing his throat and nodding. “Yeah, that’s totally fine. If you’re comfortable with it.”

“I wouldn’t have offered it if I wasn’t,” You said easily, and the way you said it–so certain, so casual–made something tighten low in his stomach again.

“Okay,” He replied, and he finally looked at you. His blue eyes were steady behind his glasses, a little glassy from the fluorescents, but locked on yours. “Just email me your dorm number. I’ll bring the notes, you bring the test, and we’ll make a plan.”

You grinned, and god, it hit him like a sucker punch. Like something he hadn’t braced for.

“Deal.”

And then you turned, backpack swinging over one shoulder, hoodie hem swaying against your hips as you made your way back up the aisle.

Bob sat still for a moment. Longer than he meant to.

He hadn’t even packed up yet.

It took him another ten seconds before he finally exhaled, shoved his pencil into the spiral of his notebook, and muttered to himself under his breath–

“…Way to make this hard for yourself…You dummy.”

————————

Your dorm wasn’t anything glamorous–but it was yours, and that made all the difference.

When you unlocked the door and pushed it open after class, you were immediately met with the familiar scent of fabric softener and the faint citrus-vanilla from the reed diffuser you kept on the dresser. The room was small, technically a single dorm, but it was just enough space for you to carve out your version of comfort. Still, as you stood in the doorway, backpack slipping off one shoulder, you looked around and immediately thought that there was no way in hell it was going to stay like this, especially with a guest coming over.

You dropped your bag near the door, and got to work immediately.

The bed was first. You hadn’t made it this morning–just rolled out with your alarm still going, one arm flung across your eyes as you reached blindly for your phone, groggy and unwilling to admit the day had started. The sheets were still tangled, your navy-blue comforter half-slid to the floor, the corner twisted around your foot in your sleep. You tugged it all back with quick, practiced tugs, smoothing the fitted sheet until the last of the sleep wrinkles vanished under your palm.

Your comforter had a faint rip in the seam on the left side near your hip–stitched up once, badly, with mismatched thread. You’d done it the second week of your freshman year, the night you’d fallen asleep sobbing after a brutal call with your high school boyfriend, and woken up the next morning tangled so tightly in the blanket that it tore when you got up. You never fixed it properly. You kind of liked the scar.

You fluffed the single throw pillow you used for your head–an old one, pillowcase faded with soft clouds printed across pale blue fabric. Not the prettiest, but it felt like home. And the long body pillow you always fell asleep hugging–cream-colored, with one end slightly more smushed than the other–went right in its usual spot against the wall. A comfort thing. You didn’t sleep well without it.

Then you moved to your desk.

It was more shelf than desk, sure–but it held your brain in neat, tiny pieces. Notes, sticky tabs, a single battered wire basket for loose paper, and a coffee mug you never drank out of that just held highlighters, lip balm, and the same pair of scissors you’d had since high school. You stacked your textbooks neatly–physics, mechanics, one painfully dry thermodynamics manual–and slid your notebook on top, flipping it to the most recent page so Bob wouldn’t see your chaotic post-lab scrawl from earlier in the week.

There was a Polaroid pinned to the corkboard just above the workspace–one of you and your best friend from home, taken in your kitchen during winter break. You were both in pajamas, mid-laugh, a sliver of frosting from a baking experiment smeared across your nose. You paused for a moment, fixing the pin to straighten it, and sighed.

Your reed diffuser sat on the corner of the dresser–three pale wooden sticks soaked in a warm citrus-vanilla scent that reminded you of summer mornings and freshly folded laundry. The bottle was nearly empty now. You should’ve replaced it weeks ago, but you kept putting it off. There was something comforting about the familiar scent, even as it faded.

Near it sat a tiny glass tray shaped like a shell, where you kept rings you barely wore and two hair ties you always reached for. One had stretched out completely, the elastic barely holding together–but you refused to throw it away. It had survived too many late-night study sessions, too many chaotic mornings before class. It had history.

You lit your desk lamp–the one with the soft yellow bulb, not the bright blue-white you hated. It cast a glow across the room that made it look gentler, less like a dorm and more like a nook carved from a novel. Cozy. Private. You turned off the overhead light and stood there for a second, letting yourself just look. The soft shadows, the freshly made bed, the diffuser’s scent hanging lightly in the air.

You sigh, satisfied with your work, eyes scanning over the room once more. Everything was in its place. Not perfect, maybe–but it looked lived in, cared for, warm. It looked like you.

With that final breath of approval, you turned toward the door tucked just beside your dresser–the greatest stroke of luck you’d had all year.

An attached bathroom.

Single dorms were hard enough to land as a second-year, but a single with a private bathroom? That was near mythic. Your RA had called it the “housing lottery jackpot,” and you hadn’t argued. No communal showers meant no mildew smell clinging to your towel, no forgotten flip-flops, and–best of all–no awkward small talk with girls brushing their teeth beside you at midnight.

You stepped inside, shutting the door behind you with a soft click, and reached for your phone on the counter. 3:30 PM. Forty-five minutes, give or take.

Bob said “after four,” but something told you he wasn’t the type to be late. You weren’t sure if that meant he’d be early–but either way, you weren’t risking being caught in your towel when he showed up at your door.

Without much thought, you tugged your clothes off in a few quick motions and tossed them into the hamper tucked beside the sink. The hoodie fell in a heap, the fabric heavy with the day’s wear. Your cropped t-shirt was damp at the neckline, your waistband creased from sitting through the afternoon lecture. It all smelled faintly of the campus and the late-summer air–sun-warmed concrete, paper, and the barest hint of classroom chalk.

You flicked on the fan and twisted the shower knob until the water reached the right balance of hot–just shy of scalding.

Steam bloomed in the narrow space like it had been waiting, curling along the top of the curtain and fogging the mirror in soft, slow layers. You stepped in, letting the heat rush over your shoulders in a way that made your muscles go slack and your eyelids flutter briefly closed. You weren’t indulging, not really. You just needed to rinse the day away–strip it off like a second skin, let the tension from your shoulders drain down the tiles and vanish with the suds.

While the water beat down over the back of your neck, your thoughts began to drift.

Even though this was just a tutoring session–just notes, formulas, and a second chance at a first impression–it felt bigger than that.

You hadn’t brought a guy into your room in months.

Not since you’d drawn that invisible line in the sand–the one that said: this space is mine and mine only. Not since you started guarding your time, your energy, and your peace. You weren’t a prude–far from it. You weren’t closed off either. You just…Stopped inviting chaos into your life. And sometimes, chaos looked like someone else’s backpack thrown on your floor, someone else’s hand on your thigh or under the waistband of your sweatpants, or someone else’s voice asking, “Do you mind if I crash here tonight?”

You didn’t miss it.

But still–when you looked Bob Floyd in the eyes and suggested your dorm like it was no big deal, like it didn’t mean anything–something in your chest had fluttered. Not panic. Not excitement. Just a shift.

A crack in the routine.

Now, standing under the steaming pulse of your shower, with the scent of citrus shampoo rising like vapor and the water cascading down your spine, you realized you hadn’t really prepared yourself for that part.

Bob Floyd. In your dorm. Sitting on your bed, or at your desk…Breathing in your space.

You didn’t think it would be weird. He didn’t seem like the type to make things uncomfortable. If anything, he seemed like the kind of guy who’d knock twice even after you told him the door was open. He was polite. Mild-mannered. A little tightly wound in a way that made you think he probably alphabetized his class folders.

But you didn’t know him.

And it was dawning on you, as you tilted your face into the stream and let it blur your vision with heat, that this was only the second conversation you’d had with him. Two conversations, and now you were inviting him into the most intimate space a student could have–your dorm. Your bedroom. Your sanctuary. A place where your throw blanket still held the scent of last week’s laundry, and where your pillowcase had that faint stretch of mascara from the night you fell asleep before washing your face.

What if he thought it was messy?

What if he thought you were messy?

What if he saw the tangled cords beside your bed or the half-finished cup of coffee on your nightstand and assumed you were the kind of person who couldn’t get it together–even when your whole reputation said otherwise?

What if he looked at your 68 again, and thought you were dumb suddenly?

You hated that thought most of all.

You weren’t dumb. You knew you weren’t. You were sharp, resilient, calculated when it mattered–and still, you wondered if he’d already made up his mind about you. Academic ego like his–97s without breaking a sweat–probably came with an equally inflated sense of who could keep up. Maybe he was too polite to say it, but what if he thought you were just another pretty girl in a hard class, grasping for help she hadn’t earned?

You scrubbed your hands over your scalp trying to shake the thought loose, because it didn’t matter what he thought.

Right?

You’d asked for help. That was the whole point. And he’d agreed. He’d said yes without hesitation–well, after a small nervous stammer, but still. He’d seemed open. Kind, even. And if you were being honest with yourself–and not just stewing in self-preservation–you didn’t think he saw you that way. Not as dense. Not as helpless. If anything, he seemed genuinely surprised that you’d asked him at all. Like he hadn’t expected someone like you to even talk to someone like him.

You rinsed the last remnants of soap and shampoo off your body, letting the moment pass.

You weren’t going to overthink this.

He was coming over, he was going to sit down. You were going to go through your test and try and work through the incorrect answers, maybe laugh once or twice, and you’d be one step closer to not failing this class.

That was it.

You shut off the water, the sudden silence deafening in the tiny bathroom.

Steam clung to every surface. You wiped your hand across the mirror, catching your own reflection looking back at you–a few beads of water dripping from your hair, over your collarbones, down over your breasts, the light reflecting off of them like little glowing orbs.

You wrapped yourself in a towel, padded out onto the tile, and toweled your hair dry with slow, deliberate motions. You’d keep things light. Professional. You’d study. You’d ask questions. You’d nod along when he explained something that made sense. And then–

You paused.

Then maybe…Maybe you’d ask what his secret was. The 97. The sharp notes. The calm in his hands. The look in his eyes when he first saw you walking up those lecture hall stairs. Not because you wanted anything from it.

But because part of you was just…Curious.

You stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in the last traces of damp heat, the steam still clinging faintly to your skin like a second breath. The scent of your shampoo followed you into the room–light citrus, clean warmth, a kind of quiet comfort–and you padded barefoot across the tile, leaving soft marks on the floor that vanished almost as soon as they appeared.

Your eyes flicked to the digital clock on your nightstand.

3:55 PM.

Of course it was. Right on the edge of too early, which meant Bob would probably be here right on time–maybe even five minutes ahead, just to be polite. Just to prove he meant it when he said he took this seriously.

You crossed the room in quick, practiced steps, flipping through your clothes without ceremony. You didn’t want to overthink it. You couldn’t overthink it. You were still a little warm from the shower, your skin flushed and hair damp, and the last thing you needed was to feel sweat pooling under a too-thick hoodie while trying to understand whatever theoretical mind game was about to come your way.

So you grabbed a soft t-shirt–a light heather grey, already worn thin in spots from too many washes–and a pair of black workout shorts that hit mid-thigh. Functional. Comfortable. No-nonsense. You pulled them on in a few quick motions, not bothering with makeup or overthinking how the shorts made your legs look in the soft afternoon light that filtered through the slits of your blinds. It wasn’t about that.

You hung up your towels quickly on the hook by the door, turned to your desk, and yanked open the middle drawer with a quiet clatter. Your whiteboard markers were all crammed into a cup at the back–caps loose, labels fading. You pulled out four of them–blue, green, red, and black–and lined them up on your desk next to your notebook like you’d planned it that way all along. Some kind of subconscious need for control, maybe. Or maybe you just didn’t want Bob to see you fumbling for supplies mid-conversation.

Then you reached for the test. The test. The damn 68, still folded and creased and red-inked like a bruise on paper. You slapped it onto the desk with a sigh, the sound small but sharp in the quiet of the room. Your hands slid to your hips. You stared at it for a long second.

This was where it would start. Hopefully where it would turn around.

And then–just as your breath settled and you were about to pull your chair out–

Knock knock.

Two firm taps.

Not tentative. Not obnoxious. Just…Precisely delivered. Like he’d rehearsed it.

You sighed. Not from dread–but from inevitability. From the knowledge that this, right here, was the moment it would all shift. You rolled your shoulders once, exhaled through your nose, and crossed the room in five brisk steps.

You pulled the door open.

And there he was.

Bob Floyd stood just outside, backpack slung over one shoulder, a black three-ring binder hugged awkwardly to his chest like he didn’t quite know what to do with it. He had changed. He was wearing a navy t-shirt that clung just enough to his chest to remind you that he was broader than he looked seated in a lecture hall. His jeans were dark again–clean, cuffed slightly at the ankle because they were a little too long for his legs–and his sneakers looked freshly wiped down, as if he’d paused just outside the dorm building to rub them clean against the concrete.

His glasses were perched on his nose again, slightly fogged at the corners from the outside humidity. His hair was still a little mussed, like the wind had gotten to him–or maybe he’d run his hand through it on the walk over. His eyes met yours instantly, wide and a little unsure, like he was trying to memorize the moment.

“Hey,” He said, and it came out just a little too soft.

You leaned against the doorframe, one hand curled around the edge of it, the other still resting lightly on your hip. You didn’t mean to look casual–but you did. Warm skin. Damp hair. Legs bare in your shorts. You were dressed like comfort, like late afternoon, like a version of home he wasn’t expecting to see.

“Hey,” You returned. A small smile tugged at your lips. “Right on time.”

“I–uh, yeah.” Bob adjusted the strap on his backpack like it gave him something to do. “Didn’t wanna be early. Or, you know, too early. But also didn’t wanna be late.”

You stepped aside. “You’re good. Come on in.”

He hesitated just slightly before crossing the threshold, like he was stepping into a space that demanded a kind of reverence. And maybe, in a way, he was. His eyes swept the room instinctively, slow and deliberate–not nosey, just observant. His gaze skimmed over the bed, the desk, the glow of the warm lamp light, the closed bathroom door. Then back to you.

You watched him take it all in. The details. The neatness. The quiet hum of your diffuser still at work in the corner.

“This is…Nice,” He said finally. And he meant it. “Like, really nice. Kinda cozy.”

You smirked like you hadn’t been panic cleaning for the past hour or two, “I try.”He nodded once, still a little awestruck, like he wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up here.

“Smells good too…Like you baked something.” You raised an eyebrow at him and gave a small laugh, motioning behind him.

”It’s just my diffuser.” Bob’s gaze drifted toward the thin plume of steam rising from your dresser, his face going slightly blush.

“Oh…” He blinked. “Didn’t notice that.”

The corners of his mouth twitched upward in a sheepish little smile, soft and crooked. He ran his palm over the front of his jeans like it might smooth over the awkward pause that followed.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, brow arched.

“Well,” You started, already moving toward your desk, “You can sit anywhere you’d like. I’m just gonna pull my whiteboard out so we have somewhere to work.”

He opened his mouth–maybe to respond, maybe to stall–but you cut in before the silence could return. “Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got water, Sprite, or…” you paused with a shrug, “an emergency stash of energy drinks if you’re into heart palpitations.”

Bob let out a short laugh, ducking his head as his fingers scratched the back of his neck. “Water’s good, thank you. Do you… need any help with anything?”

You shook your head with a quiet chuckle, already crouching to slide the whiteboard from behind your desk. “It’s all good, I got it.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you replied with a grin. “Just get comfortable.”

Bob hesitated for a beat–then nodded once and toed off his shoes with quiet care, tucking them neatly beside the frame of your bed. The soft creak of your mattress followed as he eased himself up onto it, adjusting his binder across his lap. He settled back against your pillows like someone trying not to disturb a shrine. His back met the wall in a slow, deliberate lean, shoulders squaring before his legs stretched out in front of him, one knee bent just slightly.

You were still crouched in front of your desk, tugging the whiteboard forward and flipping the eraser out of the marker tray with practiced ease. When you stood and propped the board upright against the far wall–angled so you could sit beside the bed and still reach it–Bob’s gaze caught on you again.

He wasn’t proud of it. But he couldn’t help it.

The soft sheen on your legs caught the warm light from your desk lamp, the moisture from your shower still clinging in subtle streaks across your skin. Your shorts were tight–they were the kind that followed the natural dip of your thighs when you bent forward, holding you in all the right places. Every angle pulled his attention. The curve where your hip met your waist, the shadow along the back of your knee when you adjusted your weight. You were only wearing a t-shirt and shorts, nothing scandalous, nothing remotely calculated–but Bob felt like he was seeing something private.

Like you’d invited him into something sacred and forgot to mention just how much of you lived here.

He cleared his throat and glanced out the window beside your bed, the blinds slatted just enough to let in the softest touch of late afternoon sun. The light was golden. Low. Hazy in the kind of way that made everything look suspended in time.

He told himself to focus. On the equations. On the test in your hand. On the notes in his binder.

Not on the way your legs moved when you crossed the room again, not on the lotion-sweet smell of you that lingered now even stronger than it had that first day in class, and not on the sight of you–relaxed and warm and totally unguarded–in a way he hadn’t seen before.

You crossed the room with a bottle of water and handed it to him without fuss, and when your fingers brushed, he felt the jolt of it deep in his chest.

“Thanks,” He said quietly, cradling the bottle like a peace offering.

You gave him a smile. Not teasing, not knowing. Just kind. Grounded. Unbothered.

And that made it worse somehow. Made it harder not to stare. Harder not to wonder what this was becoming, and how much trouble he was in already.

Because he could memorize equations. He could build models, ace problem sets, and calculate theoretical orbital mechanics in his sleep.

But none of that had prepared him for you.

You didn’t sit right away.

Instead, you hovered just beside the whiteboard for a moment longer, the test clutched in your hand, thumb brushing over the red mark like maybe you could fade it out with friction alone. But Bob waited patiently–quiet, composed, the bottle of water still nestled in his lap like he didn’t quite know what to do with his hands yet.

You held the test out toward him. “Alright, let’s see how bad it really is.”

Bob offered a faint, crooked smile as he took the folded packet, careful not to smudge the corners with condensation from the bottle. He flipped it open to the first page, eyes scanning the first problem set. His gaze moved quickly–but not dismissively. He was reading, really reading, lips parting slightly as he traced your work with his eyes.

Then his brows lifted, just a touch–not surprise, but curiosity.

“Can you…” He glanced up at you, the glint of his glasses catching the light again, “show me how you got this answer? Go through it with me…I just want to pick your brain first. See your logic a bit.”

You hesitated, just for a beat.

Not because you didn’t remember how you got the answer. You did. You remembered every painful minute of trying to pull it out of thin air, piecing together old lecture notes and half-remembered formulas from late-night readings. But the thought of speaking it out loud? Of saying it in front of him?

That part felt…Vulnerable.

You bit the inside of your lip for a second, eyes flicking from the board to his face, then back again. Then, without a word, you bent down and picked up the black marker.

Bob leaned forward just slightly, shifting the binder onto the mattress beside him as you uncapped it with your teeth and started writing on the board. The soft squeak of dry erase on the surface filled the room.

“Okay,” You said finally, your voice steadier than you expected, “So the question was asking about particle behavior in a non-inertial reference frame, right? So I assumed we were supposed to use the rotating frame model the prof showed us last week. The one with the centrifugal and Coriolis corrections?” Bob nodded slowly, eyes locked on the board, on your hand.

You started to draw–carefully, neatly, the way you always did when trying to make sense of something. A circle. A line to represent the radius. Arrows for velocity, angular acceleration. You wrote out the base equation next to it, then began working through your substitutions.

“I plugged in the knowns here,” you continued, underlining as you spoke, “and then tried to isolate the pseudo-forces…but I think I misapplied the coordinate system. I used polar, but I think the solution assumed Cartesian.”

Bob made a small hum in the back of his throat–soft, thoughtful. You glanced back at him.

He was watching you. Focused, engaged. Almost the look a professor would give when they saw potential flickering just beneath a student’s mistake, and that made your throat tighten from the nerves that began to bubble over in your stomach.

Bob shifted again, the mattress dipping softly beneath his weight as he leaned forward, one hand braced on the bed beside his binder. “No, that’s good,” He murmured. “That’s actually really good. You weren’t wrong to try it that way. I think the issue’s just here–”He reached for the red marker from your stack, uncapping it with a soft click.

“See how you treated this term?” He pointed gently toward a partial derivative in your equation, careful not to touch the board. “You factored it like it was independent, but because it’s nested in the rotating frame, it still has angular dependence. That’s what threw the rest off.”

You blinked at the board, then at him.

“Wait…So if I’d just accounted for the cross-product instead of canceling it…”

“You would’ve landed within the margin of error,” He finished, smiling softly. “Easily a B. Maybe even B+ depending on how much partial credit he gave.” You stared at your own math like it had betrayed you and then slowly dropped your hand to your side, still holding the marker.

“That…Makes so much more sense,” You said, voice a little quieter now. Not embarrassed. Just a little humbled.

Bob stood up slowly, the mattress giving a soft groan beneath him as he rose. His steps were quiet but sure as he moved to stand beside you at the whiteboard, marker still poised in his hand like a baton he didn’t quite realize he’d taken control of. You stepped slightly to the side to give him space, though your shoulders still nearly brushed.

His voice came low, steady, as he started to rewrite the middle portion of your equation. His handwriting was sharp and balanced–blocky print with just a hint of slant, the kind of penmanship that spoke of hours spent copying down formula after formula with care.

“Your approach wasn’t bad,” He started, glancing at you just briefly before continuing, “Seriously. You just went too fast on the middle step, that’s all…And honestly?” He let out a breathy, half-laugh. “That’s the part that gets everyone.” You let out a quiet, half-aware chuckle–more breath than voice.

“Well…Evidently it doesn’t get you. You’re the one that got a 97.”

Bob flushed immediately. The back of his neck went pink first, then the tips of his ears. He ducked his head as he kept writing, though his next words carried a little laugh of their own.

“I’m a physics major,” He said. “So I better be getting that mark or else I’d be needing a refund from the school.”

You let out a real laugh at that–light, short, amused–and crossed your arms loosely over your chest, watching him scribble through the rest of the correction with a kind of practiced rhythm.

“No wonder you’re so good at this…” You muttered, more to yourself than him, but loud enough for him to catch.

Bob’s head tilted slightly toward you. “What’re you majoring in?”

You scratched the back of your neck, mildly self-conscious. “Engineering.”

He paused–just long enough to let the silence feel deliberate–and then let out a short, knowing laugh. “Ahh. Now it makes sense.”

You raised a brow, narrowing your eyes in mock warning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You guys are chronic overthinkers,” He stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You scoffed, uncrossing your arms. “And you guys aren’t? Please. Look at all the work you need to do just to get a simple solution. Two extra diagrams and four substitutions just to prove a particle moves left.”

He rolled his eyes, the kind of eye roll that had barely any edge–just enough sass to keep the playfulness alive. “Least if I took an engineering course, I’d still hit an 80 on the tests.”

You blinked at him. “Wow. Bold of you to assume you’d survive statics.”

Bob turned toward you a little more, raising an eyebrow, eyes glittering behind the faint reflection on his glasses. “I’d thrive in statics.”

“Oh, really?” you said, grinning now. “You think you would have a handle on it?” He cleared his throat lightly and gave you a soft smirk, the corner of his mouth curling.

“Maybe if I had the right tutor.” You blinked once. And then…Smiled.

He turned back to the board and finished the last line of the solution with a soft swipe of the marker.

“There,” He said, voice quieter again. “That’s how I did it.”

You stared at the board, then at him. The space between your shoulders eased a little. The knot in your chest began to loosen.

”Well…That’s one question down…At least I know where I went wrong…” Bob nodded, tapping the cap of the red marker softly against his palm.

“Let’s go to the next one.”

You reached over to flip the test packet to the next problem set, fingers skimming over the thin paper before tugging the top page aside. The math was already crowding your vision–variables stacked in tight lines, subscripts nestled between integrals and force vectors–and you let out a breath as you raised the black marker again.

He stepped back slightly to give you room, standing just behind and to your left. You could feel the warmth of him, the quiet energy he held so close to his chest, just skimming your shoulder. You swiped the board clean with the eraser in a few broad, practiced strokes until nothing remained but the faint sheen of leftover marker ghosting the surface.

“I’m gonna admit,” You started, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, “I winged this one. So I’m definitely not gonna have an explanation for it.”

Bob shrugged, unbothered. “Then solve it,” He said casually. “Or attempt to. I’ll guide if you need it.”

There was a subtle shift in his tone–something a little less guarded, a little more drawled than usual. A slight southern cadence that lilted through the last few words, soft but present, like a warm hush pulled from somewhere deeper than lecture hall confidence. You felt your cheeks heat slightly at the sound.

Still, you nodded. “Alright.”

You started from scratch–no notes, no copying, just your best attempt. The marker glided smoothly under your hand as you worked through the logic piece by piece, pausing every few steps to reassess. You murmured quietly to yourself as you went, instinctively talking through the math aloud, and Bob said nothing–just watched. You could feel his eyes trace the path your gaze took, from the top of your diagram down through the first few steps of your math. Then–

“Nope. Wrong,” He interrupted, it came gently but firmly.

You blinked at the board, your hand frozen mid-step, and let out a quiet sigh. “Why?”

He stepped forward again, lifting the red marker. He didn’t correct it for you–just circled one specific term, the ink smooth and patient.

“This,” He pointed out, “You forgot to convert the mass into angular components. You treated it like a point mass.”

Your stomach sank just slightly. Not out of shame, but frustration. You dipped your head and started erasing that line.

“Sorry,” You murmured, almost under your breath.

“No need to apologize,” Bob said immediately, softer now. “Though I’m hopin’ this stuff sinks in…”

Your eyebrows knit, and you turned your head a little toward him. “Do you think it won’t?”

He shrugged, the barest lift of his shoulders. “It takes a while to apply the theory. Knowing it in your head’s one thing…Applying it to a random question is something else…But being able to fix your own mistakes is the first step to understanding things a little better to apply things properly.” You nodded once, pressing your lips together. Then you went back to work, quieter now, more deliberate. He watched you fall into the rhythm of the solution again, only stepping back when you didn’t seem to need his guidance. You could feel his eyes flicking down toward the test for a second before he moved behind you.

You heard the soft scrape of his hand over the textbook as he grabbed it from your desk, flipping it open with a practiced flick of his thumb. Pages whispered past each other as he navigated straight to the chapter you’d been tested on–like he’d memorized the structure without even meaning to. His eyes scanned the problems, fingers tapping the margin of the page as he skimmed.

By the time he turned back around, you were capping the black marker with a little sigh of effort. “I think I got it?”

Bob came closer again and tilted his head to read your work. His gaze moved from line to line, his mouth twitching just slightly before he nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, you got it.” You caught the smile as it crept over his face–unfiltered this time, soft and a little proud. He adjusted his glasses with one hand, pushing them up the bridge of his nose before holding out the textbook toward you, with his thumb slipped between the pages.

“Try number twelve,” He said, the corner of his mouth still lifted. “New problem. Same concept. Let’s see what you remember.” Your eyes scanned the paragraph of setup–classic physics problem: rotating frame, non-uniform mass distribution, some sly attempt to catch overconfident students slipping past the conversion factor. You clicked your tongue once and let your focus shift back to the whiteboard, grabbing the green marker this time.

He watched you move–quiet, efficient, no hesitation as you picked apart the language of the question, breaking it into manageable parts. You leaned your hip against the desk just slightly, skin catching the late-afternoon light in the softest gleam. Your fingers danced over your phone screen, pulling up the calculator, thumb tapping with precise rhythm as your eyes flicked between the numbers and the formulas.

Bob didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t staring anymore.

There was a faint shimmer along your shoulder from where the light met your skin, a dewy glow from the shower that hadn’t fully faded. You were chewing softly on the inside of your cheek, eyes narrowed in concentration, and he thought–briefly, helplessly–that he could watch you solve problems forever if it meant watching you like this.

You didn’t say anything. Not for the full ten minutes it took you to work it through.

You just calculated, and wrote, and thought. You whispered a few fragments to yourself as you filled in a diagram at the top right corner of the board, then traced your logic through in smooth, deliberate steps. You stepped back finally, the marker hanging loosely from your fingers, your other hand planted lightly on your hip.

You turned slightly toward him.

“Well?” You asked. “What’s the verdict?”

Bob blinked–once, hard. Then blinked again.

“Right,” He replied quickly, moving forward, the textbook now tucked under one arm. He studied your work for a moment, leaning in just enough to squint at one portion of your substitutions. His lips pressed together.

“You did most of it right,” He murmured, pointing to a midsection of your math. “This part’s good…But you forgot to apply the correction here–” He tapped gently on a bracketed term near the top. “That throws the coefficient off. Still–partial credit would be earned. It’s not like you’d lose all the points.”

You let out a breath and nodded. “Got it.”

Bob uncapped the red marker again and leaned forward, elbow bent as he carefully scribbled a correction in the margin beside your step. His handwriting was still annoyingly neat, even in red, even when rushed. He talked you through it slowly, the pace gentle but firm, breaking down the terms like a translation instead of a reprimand.

Your arms crossed as you leaned against the edge of the desk, chin tilted toward him slightly. He didn’t rush, didn’t sound superior–he just…Taught. Like he wanted you to understand it, not just memorize it.

You smirked.

“You should become a professor with the way you teach.”

Bob glanced over his shoulder at you, an amused little tilt to his head. “Why? Am I boring you?”

You let out a real laugh this time, low and warm and amused. “No. Not yet, at least.”

He turned a little more to face you, one hand still holding the red marker.

“Don’t speak too soon,” He warned, the corners of his mouth pulling into a slow, boyish grin. “I’m sure I’ve got a lot more opportunities to do that.”

And even though the whiteboard still glowed behind him, filled with formulas and diagrams and half-solved questions, all you could see was the quiet crinkle at the corner of his eyes, and the way his voice–soft, sincere–almost sounded like a promise.

————————

Bob’s elbows rested on his knees, fingers loosely laced, binder long forgotten beside him on the bed.

You were pacing.

Again.

Back and forth in front of your desk, your physics textbook open in your hands like it might suddenly say something different if you glared hard enough at the chapter title.

“I don’t understand,” You huffed, fingers tightening around the spine of the book. “We’ve been working through these questions almost every night for the past two weeks. I’m getting them very close to right when I do them here. I know what I’m doing on the whiteboard, I’m getting partial credit in class–but then I sit down during the quiz and it’s like…Like my brain just decides to take a smoke break.”

Bob watched you quietly from the bed, his gaze flicking down briefly as your shirt lifted with your movements. The hem rose just enough to show the waistband of the boxer shorts you’d thrown on after your shower, the edge of soft cotton skimming the top of your thighs as you turned in another sharp step.

He didn’t say anything. Not at first. Just watched. Like he always did when you got worked up–like his stillness might balance out your storm.

You dropped the book onto your desk with a soft thud, dragging both hands through your hair before planting them on your hips in frustration.

“I mean, it’s ridiculous,” You muttered. “I can do it here. I’ve done it. You’ve seen me do it. What the hell happens between here and the classroom?” Bob leaned back slightly, hands now braced behind him against the bedspread, one leg bent, the other stretched long.

“Do you feel anxious when you’re writing the test?” He asked, tilting his head just a little.

You turned to look at him, brow furrowed.

“It’s a normal amount of anxiety,” You said flatly. “What, are you about to tell me that’s why I’m still not doing well on quizzes? A little test stress?”

He shrugged, his lips quirking upward like he knew he was about to toe the line. “Could be,” He replied simply. “Or…Maybe you just need some kind of…Positive reinforcement.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Positive reinforcement?” You repeated slowly, curious and suspicious of how he was bringing up the topic.

He nodded, straight-faced. “Affirmations. Encouragement. Rewards. You know. Psychology stuff.” You crossed your arms, the motion slow and deliberate, as you turned fully to face him. Your hips settled just to one side, weight shifting into that slightly challenging posture–the kind that said you weren’t going to let this slide, but not in the way he should be afraid of. Your head tilted a little, eyes narrowed like you were sizing him up. Watching.

Noticing.

And God, was he blushing.

Not a violent flush, but that creeping kind–the kind that started at the tips of his ears and crawled slowly down the sides of his neck like embarrassment blooming from the inside out. He wasn’t meeting your gaze now. Just staring down at the binder on his lap, his thumbs rubbing over the edge of the plastic like it had something important to say.

You didn’t say anything at first. Just stared. Took him in.

The soft slope of his shoulders where they leaned back into the pillow. The subtle indent his jaw made when he clenched it without meaning to. The flush of red creeping into his cheeks, all while trying to keep that composed, helpful tone–like he was still just your tutor and not someone who thought about kissing you when you leaned too close during derivatives.

The silence held for a beat too long.

Then you spoke.

“So you’re trying to condition me?”

Bob’s head snapped up, and his eyes met yours–wide, startled, and already bracing for the tease he knew was coming. But then, to your surprise, he laughed. A real laugh. Short and soft and so genuine that it made the tips of his ears go even redder.

“N-No!” he said quickly, shaking his head, that lopsided smile overtaking his face. “Jesus–no, I wasn’t–conditioning you?”

You smirked, keeping your arms crossed like a challenge. “It kinda sounds like you’re conditioning me.”

He laughed again–this time accompanied by a quiet snort he couldn’t quite swallow down fast enough. It made your grin widen.

“I’m not trying to train you like a dog,” He commented, wiping a hand down his face with mock-exhaustion. “I just meant…If you associate physics with something good, maybe your brain will stop freaking out every time you’re handed a test.”

You blinked at him once. Raised an eyebrow.

“So…” You started, slowly, carefully, “You’re trying to open my third eye for physics?”

Bob looked at you. Deadpan. “That’s not what I said.”

You stepped closer, a teasing lilt curling into your voice now as you gestured with one hand. “No, no, I think that’s exactly what you said. You want me to transcend. Find academic Nirvana through external praise.” He rolled his eyes.

”Okay. Now you’re just twisting my words.” You raised your eyebrows.

”Am I?” You grinned. He gave you a look. A very Bob look. One part fond, one part I walked into this with my eyes wide open and it’s too late to leave now. But the pink still hadn’t faded from his cheeks.

You leaned your hip against the edge of the desk again, bare thighs catching the warm glow of your desk lamp, watching the way Bob’s eyes flicked toward your legs and then immediately back up again.

“Alright, Professor Floyd,” You said lightly, “I’ll bite. What kind of positive reinforcement are we talking about here? You handing out gold stars? Stickers? Should I bring a report card for you to sign?” Bob cleared his throat. It was soft but unmistakable. A nervous reflex that made him sit up a little straighter on your bed, one hand rising to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose even though they hadn’t really slipped.

“I mean…” He trailed off, eyes fixed on some distant point above your shoulder. “I was thinking more like…A kiss.” Your entire body stilled, hands still loosely clasped in front of you from your teasing posture, your weight half-shifted against the desk. A beat passed–just long enough to wonder if you’d misheard him. But then his eyes flicked back to yours, just for a second, and the heat in his gaze made it impossible to pretend he hadn’t said exactly what you thought he did.

You could feel your cheeks warm–instantly, helplessly–heat blooming beneath your skin like it had been waiting for the right moment to spill forward. But you masked it with a slow raise of your eyebrows and a smirk, playful but laced with that sharp new curiosity curling low in your gut.

“Yeah?” You said, voice softer now. You shifted your weight and tilted your head. “A kiss? That’s what you had in mind?”

Bob’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. Hard. His eyes flicked to the space beside your head before dropping to the floor–then back up to you, like he was trying not to look too long but couldn’t help it. He shifted on the mattress, fingers brushing over the edge of the binder like he needed something to hold onto. “I-I mean…It was just an idea. One of…Several.”

You stepped closer.

“Is that what you’ve had in mind this entire time?” You questioned, voice low, the smile on your lips laced with something sweeter now–teasing, but sincere. “Kissing me?”

Bob let out a nervous little laugh, breath catching as he tried to string together a reply. His knuckles were pale where they gripped the binder now, eyes flicking toward your legs again before jerking back up to your face.

“I–no, I mean, not… I never really got that idea till today,” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just thought—I don’t know. It might help.”

You took another step forward.

“You sure about that?” you asked, the words curling in your throat like heat, low and just a little amused. Now you were standing directly in front of him, and the change in height made it impossible not to notice how he looked up at you–head tilted back slightly, wide blue eyes tracking your every move. His glasses slid a fraction down his nose, but he didn’t dare lift a hand to fix them.

His mouth opened and closed once before he found his voice. “I personally…Think it might work,” He murmured.

Your eyes flicked down to his lips–soft, parted slightly, flushed–and then back to his eyes. He was blinking slow now, like your presence this close was physically slowing his thoughts.

You bit your lip. Slowly. Purposefully.

“So you’re telling me,” You said, almost whispering now, “That you want to reward me with kisses…Whenever I get a question right?”

Bob exhaled through his nose. His legs had parted slightly where he sat, not intentionally–but enough to suggest his body was reacting faster than his brain. He nodded once, tentative but clear. His voice dropped lower, barely above a whisper.

“I could…Do a whole lot more than kisses,” He said.

The second the words left his mouth, his eyes widened slightly, like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Like he hadn’t even known he was capable of it. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of the binder, his spine curving slightly forward as if he could fold himself up to hide from the boldness that had just escaped him.

Your breath caught–just barely–and something about the way he said it, almost reverent, almost pleading, sent a shiver down your spine. You watched his throat work, his chest rising and falling in subtle, shaky breaths.

He wasn’t cocky. He wasn’t teasing you back with confidence.

He wanted you.

Desperately.

You leaned in, closing that last bit of space between your knees and the edge of the bed until your thighs brushed his. The binder slid from his lap onto the comforter with a soft thud, forgotten.

“Yeah?” You murmured, voice warm, velvety, almost indulgent. “You think you could do more?” Bob nodded, slowly–eyes wide, lips parted, breath coming a little uneven now, fanning over your face.

“If you’d let me,” He said quietly, “I’d do anything.”

The words landed between you like a weight, heavy with longing, trembling with truth.

And you believed him.

Because Bob Floyd didn’t say things he didn’t mean.

He didn’t play games. He didn’t flirt to win. He offered, quietly, completely–like giving a piece of himself to someone felt holy.

Your hands moved before your mind fully caught up, instinct carrying you as you lifted them slowly–deliberately–and rested them against the sides of his neck.

He was warm.

The kind of warmth that radiated from beneath the skin, the kind that felt like it could seep into your palms and settle somewhere inside your chest if you let it. His skin was soft under your thumbs, his pulse fluttering just beneath one, and when your fingers brushed lightly over the edge of his jaw, you felt the tiniest hitch in his breath.

Bob stilled.

Completely.

The kind of stillness that only came when something sacred was happening–like he didn’t want to risk breaking the moment by breathing too loud.

And then you leaned in.

Not rushed. Not hungry. Just slow–measured. Confident in the space he’d given you. Confident in the way his knees shifted to make room for you between them, in the way his lips had parted already, waiting, hoping.

Your nose brushed his cheek softly. His glasses tilted just slightly from the nudge, slipping down the bridge of his nose in a slow, unbothered drift. You felt the ghost of his breath over your mouth, shaky and warm, and then–

You kissed him.

Gently. Just once. Lips pressed to his like the start of a sentence that would take its time to finish.

Bob breathed into it–exhaled a soft, shuddering hum from the back of his throat that vibrated against your mouth. His hands came up slow, tentative, like he didn’t want to assume. But then they settled–one sliding to your lower back, warm and careful, the other ghosting over your hip before stilling there.

And then he kissed you back.

Really kissed you.

Slow at first. So slow it made your knees weak.

He lingered on your upper lip, plush and steady, then pulled back half an inch and tilted–just enough to brush your bottom lip between his with soft, seeking pressure. His lips moved with purpose, not urgency. Thoughtful. Intent. Like he wanted to memorize you in pieces, to map the shape of your mouth one breath at a time.

You made a soft, involuntary sound into him–a quiet, pleased little “mmm”–and he kissed you again like he needed to drink it in. His thumb pressed lightly against the small of your back, grounding him, grounding you. Every motion of his mouth was reverent, restrained, and dripping with a kind of intimacy that made your skin burn.

You pulled back just an inch–lips brushing his, breath warm between you.

His eyes fluttered open slowly, lashes sweeping against flushed cheeks. His pupils were blown wide behind his fogged glasses, lips pink and slightly parted, his chest rising and falling with careful, controlled breaths. He looked dazed. Unmoored.

You smiled.

A quiet, knowing smile, and let your thumbs brush the sides of his jaw.

“Better go get the next question right, huh?” You whispered, teasing but breathless. “Gotta meet my end of the bargain.”

And just as you started to pull back, maybe to reach for the marker again, maybe to hide the way your heart was slamming against your ribs like a drum–

Bob’s hand on your lower back pressed just slightly.

“Wait,” He murmured, voice low and husky now. “How about we suspend the studying for now?”

The words came quiet. Careful. But you could hear the edge beneath them–that hunger he’d tried so hard to suppress now curling softly around the syllables.

You arched an eyebrow at him, still close enough that your noses brushed.

“Hmm…” You started, a smirk pulling at your lips. “Now you’re just going to end up distracting me.”

His eyes flicked down to your mouth. Then back up.

You ran a finger gently down the side of his neck, your voice warm and teasing.

“Let’s stick to the plan…” Bob exhaled slowly. Like it took everything in him not to pull you back in.

His hands didn’t move. But he nodded.

Barely.

And when you stepped away and turned toward the whiteboard again, you could feel the heat of his gaze trailing after you–like he was trying to sear every inch of the moment into memory.

———————

By the second correct answer, you were setting a timer for yourselves.

Ten minutes. That was the new rule.

Ten minutes per problem, per kiss. No exceptions. No shortcuts.

Because the last time you’d leaned in for one–intended to be short, controlled, just enough to make good on the deal–you’d ended up in his lap. His hands had slipped under your shirt almost instinctively, like they knew where to go before he consciously gave them permission. And when his palms flattened against the small of your back, warm and strong and bare, your breath had hitched in a way that surprised you.

Not because it was too much.

But because it was exactly what you hadn’t realized you’d been needing.

His fingers pressed into your skin–not harshly, not possessively, just enough to ground you. Like he couldn’t believe he was touching you and needed to memorize the shape of your body with his hands before you slipped away again. You’d gasped into his mouth, not even meaning to, and felt him inhale like the sound had gone straight to his chest.

And then you kissed him harder.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, wrecking the neatness of it with the kind of carelessness that only came when heat outweighed hesitation. You pulled, just a little–testing, exploring–and he moaned softly against your lips like it cracked him open. His glasses were crooked by then, fogged from your shared breaths, and neither of you bothered fixing them. The world could stay blurry if it meant this stayed sharp.

Somewhere in the haze, Bob’s shirt had come off. You hadn’t meant for it to escalate. It had just…Happened. One minute your hands were sliding beneath the hem, feeling the heat of him, the tension in his abdomen, the ridges of muscle that lined his stomach, and the next, the shirt was gone. Flung off to the side without a single graceful motion. You hadn’t even looked where it landed.

He was solid beneath you. Not chiseled in a gym-rat kind of way, but strong in that natural, everyday way. Like he was built for work. His skin was sun-warmed with just a pinch of colour, a faint line of tan cutting across the middle of his arms where T-shirts always stopped. You touched him like he might disappear. He held you like he never wanted you to.

And God…He was good.

Surprisingly good.

Not in the way of someone who practiced, but someone who paid attention. Someone who kissed with focus. With reverence. Like your mouth was an answer he’d been solving toward for weeks. He kissed like he studied–slow, thorough, intentional. His tongue was gentle at first, coaxing. His teeth grazed your lip once, barely, and you swore you could feel it in your spine. When he kissed you the second time–after the next problem, when your timer dinged again–you already knew it wasn’t going to stay brief.

And it didn’t.

He pulled you in with hands that were just slightly rough from calluses and pencil grooves, fingers curling tight around your waist, your ribs, like he needed to feel you under his hands. And when he slipped those same fingers under the hem of your shirt again—this time slower, surer–you let him. You wanted him to. His touch wasn’t greedy. It was searching. Savoring. Like he was learning every inch of you the way he learned his formulas.

And you didn’t realize how touch-starved you’d been until then.

Until the heat of his hand met the curve of your spine, and you arched into him like your body had been waiting for permission. Until he kissed down the side of your jaw, slowly, reverently, and you felt the hum of it in your chest. Until your own hand traced the broad slope of his shoulder, down over the rise and fall of his ribs, and found nothing but steady strength and gentle restraint.

You didn’t say it out loud–but he could feel it.

The hunger in the way you kissed him. The gratitude in the way your hands explored him. The desperate edge that slipped into your breath every time you whispered his name between kisses like it wasn’t something you’d meant to do.

And maybe it wasn’t about physics anymore.

Maybe it never really was.

Because as Bob pulled back, breathless and flushed, his glasses still askew and hair mussed into soft waves from your fingers pulling and tightening, he looked at you like you’d changed something fundamental inside him. Like you’d opened a door he didn’t know was locked. Like he couldn’t stop even if he tried.

Your timer buzzed again in the background. Neither of you moved.

“…You got that one right,” He whispered, lips brushing your cheek “Think you deserve…A break.” You let out a breathless little laugh, your chest still rising and falling with the aftermath of the last kiss. Your hair was a bit mussed from his hands, your lips slightly swollen from the soft, reverent press of his mouth–and you were dizzy, absolutely dizzy with the way he looked at you.

“Bob…” You murmured, voice playful, warm, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve got some sort of ulterior motive.” Bob, still slightly breathless, hand still planted firm and reverent on your thigh, sat back just a little. Enough to give you a look. One of those boyish, guilty-but-not-really guilty grins that curled slow at the edges and made your heart skip.

He pressed a hand flat to his bare chest, wide-eyed in mock innocence.

“Me?” He said, lips twitching. “No…Definitely no ulterior motives here. I’m just…” He leaned in again, close enough for his breath to dance against your jaw, “Trying to do something I’ve been thinking about for a long time.” Your brows lifted, pulse tripping.

“Oh?” You murmured, teasing but curious. “And what’s that?” He pressed a kiss to your jaw–so gentle it nearly didn’t register as a kiss at all. Just warmth. Just intent. Then another, lower, slower, right beneath the curve of your ear. And then:

“Going down on you,” He whispered.

The words landed hot, like they’d been spoken directly into your bloodstream.

Your breath hitched audibly. You swore you could feel your pulse flutter in places you didn’t think could react to words alone. Heat pooled low in your stomach like syrup spilling into something hollow. Still, you managed a quiet, almost incredulous laugh, voice tightening as you tilted your head to look at him again.

“Now I need to know,” You said, fingers threading back into his hair, “How long you’ve been thinking about that.” Bob let out a soft laugh, one hand splaying open against your hip, the other bracing himself still, like he needed to keep steady before he admitted anything to you. He kissed down your neck again, slower this time–each inch of skin passed over with the kind of devotion that said this wasn’t some spur-of-the-moment confession.

And when he reached the collar of your shirt, where the fabric hung loose from earlier tugging, he nosed at it gently. Not greedy. Just wanting more.

You tugged lightly on his hair, not to stop him, but to coax him to pause–just enough to get him to look up.

“Hey,” You said softly, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “How long have you been thinking about doing that?”

Bob’s eyes flicked up to yours–blue and wide and already glassy with the weight of how badly he wanted you. And then his face turned a shade deeper, that telltale blush painting up his cheeks and crawling behind his ears.

“Since…” He paused, like the words were too embarrassing to say. “Since the first day of class. When you came in late…Dressed in that skirt.”

You blinked, lips parting slowly.

“The black one?”

He nodded, eyes darting to your mouth like it might give him the courage to keep talking.

“It rode up just a little when you walked past. And you sat a few seats down and didn’t look at me once. And I–” He broke off for a second, laughing nervously. “I dropped my pencil because of how you smelled and how your legs looked and because you didn’t even notice me looking.”

You stared at him.

Then grinned, slow and wicked.

“Well,” You murmured, leaning in again until your lips were just barely brushing his, “Guess it’s a good thing you’re getting your chance now.” Bob exhaled a shaky breath–one of awe, of disbelief, of absolutely overwhelmed want.

And then he kissed you again.

The kiss that followed was nothing like the first.

It was deeper. Hungrier. Your lips opened beneath his without hesitation this time, and he drank in the permission like it was oxygen–his hands curling tighter around the backs of your thighs before lifting you effortlessly into his lap. You gasped softly against his mouth as your knees bent around him, your weight settling against the solid warmth of his thighs, your hands sliding up the broad slope of his bare shoulders.

He kissed you like he’d waited for this.

Like every moment you’d spent leaning over equations, brushing fingertips, trading teasing words had led to this exact point–and now he had you here, soft and open in his lap, your legs bare and warm against denim, your breath stuttering into his mouth every time he tugged you closer.

His hands slid beneath the hem of your t-shirt again, palms hot against your back, and this time he didn’t hesitate. The fabric peeled upward in one smooth motion–up, over your ribs, brushing your chest–until you lifted your arms and let him tug it off completely. He tossed it somewhere behind you, neither of you looking to see where it landed.

His eyes dropped.

The moment he saw what you were wearing underneath, his breath hitched—and for a second, he didn’t move. A soft cotton sports bra in a worn, dusky pink–simple, comfortable, a little faded from wash after wash–but the way it hugged you? The way it molded to the curve of your breasts, straps digging gently into your warm skin?

Bob Floyd looked like he’d forgotten how to speak.

He swallowed once. Then again. His glasses had slipped slightly lower on his nose, giving him that boyish, dazed expression he got whenever something completely wrecked his train of thought. You watched his eyes trail over you, caught between reverence and want, and then–

He hummed. A soft, breathy sound from deep in his chest. Something unfiltered. Something warm.

Then he looked back up at you.

And kissed you again.

His hands gripped your hips now, anchoring you down in his lap like he didn’t want you to shift an inch. He kissed you harder–open-mouthed, deep, letting out a quiet groan as your hips rocked forward ever so slightly. He didn’t say anything. Just let the noise fall between you, ragged and raw, swallowing your gasp as he shifted his grip and guided you until your back hit the mattress.

The room spun gently with the motion, soft yellow light from the lamp catching in the lenses of his glasses as he leaned over you. His body followed—broad shoulders, warm bare chest pressing down as he settled between your legs. He braced his hands on either side of your ribcage, framing you like a question he couldn’t stop asking. His eyes searched your face for just a second, but you nodded–softly, wordlessly–already reaching for him again.

He dipped his head.

Kissed your throat.

Then lower.

And lower still.

He took his time.

Every press of his lips trailed down the line of your collarbone, across the top swell of your breasts where the fabric cut gently across your skin. His glasses slipped again, nearly falling off–but he didn’t stop. Didn’t even lift a hand to adjust them. He kissed you through the blur, lips brushing the tops of your breasts like they were something sacred.

You let out a quiet sound–half gasp, half moan–and threaded your fingers into his hair again. His tongue flicked out, tasting the salt of your skin as he groaned softly against you.

“Are you always this sensual?” you whispered, voice thick, dazed, breathless.

Bob let out a quiet sigh, like your question made something in him ease and deepen at the same time.

“Let’s just say I love giving…” He murmured, kissing the center of your chest. “…A lot.”

The way he said it–low, quiet, honest–made your legs clench involuntarily around his waist. Your mind flooded with images far too filthy for someone as sweet as Bob Floyd to inspire.

But then again, the way he looked right now–glasses fogging, lips red and glistening, his chest moving in slow, hungry waves with every breath–maybe he wasn’t that sweet after all.

His fingers reached for the thin straps of your bra.

“Hope you don’t mind,” He whispered against your skin, lips still pressing hot kisses between every word.

You shook your head quickly. “I don’t mind at all…”

With a reverent kind of care, he slipped the straps off your shoulders. One. Then the other. His fingers brushed your arms on the way down, the backs of his knuckles ghosting over your skin like he was memorizing it. Then–slowly, carefully–he tugged the fabric down, baring you to him inch by inch.

His breath hitched.

Your breasts, soft and flushed from heat and touch, rose with every breath you took. Bob didn’t reach for you right away. He just…Looked. Let himself take it in. His hands slid up your sides again–rougher now, purposeful–and when they cupped the curve beneath your breasts, his thumbs brushed upward, stroking slowly until your nipples tightened under the attention.

His glasses fogged completely.

Still, he didn’t take them off.

He leaned in and kissed the soft mound of your left breast, then your right, each kiss dragging slower than the last. His lips were gentle, his hands firm, and when he finally brushed the tip of his tongue over your nipple, your hips bucked without warning.

“God,” You whispered, your hands fisting in the sheets beside you. Bob just smiled. Quietly. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Sensitive?” he murmured, lips hovering just over your nipple again, breath warm and teasing.

You shook your head slowly, fingers curling into the sheets. “I call it anticipation.”

His low laugh rumbled against your skin. “Didn’t know we were calling it that now… but okay.”

Then he kissed you again–this time firmer, lips wrapping around your nipple with a slow, aching pull that made your hips twitch beneath him. His tongue was wet and warm, lapping slow circles around the soft peak before closing over it again, sucking just a little deeper now–just enough to make you moan quietly, enough to send a thrum straight between your thighs.

His hands didn’t stop, either–broad palms sliding up and down the sides of your ribcage, thumbs sweeping in careful, reverent passes. He alternated between breasts with the same kind of concentration you’d seen in study sessions: deliberate, measured, like he was solving you.

And when he finally pulled away, lips red and glistening from worship, he blew a soft, chilled stream of air across your saliva-slick nipple–then the other.

Your entire body arched. He watched it happen with wide eyes, completely entranced.

Then–without a word–you sat up.

He blinked in surprise, hands still resting on your sides as you reached behind yourself and unhooked your bra the rest of the way, slipping the fabric down your arms and flinging it off the bed. The second it landed somewhere behind you, you laid back down–bare, flushed, and completely open.

Bob’s breath hitched hard. His glasses had slipped lower again, fogged beyond all reason now, and he still hadn’t touched them. He didn’t even seem aware of the state he was in–just that you were laid out beneath him, chest rising in unsteady waves, eyes soft but daring.

He exhaled shakily.

And then he moved lower.

He kissed the center of your sternum once, then again, trailing down past your navel with slow, reverent care. When he reached the waistband of your boxer shorts, he paused. His hands came to rest just above your hips, fingers curling slightly under the band.

He looked up at you, eyes glassy and dark behind the silver frames.

You nodded–slow, sure.

That was all he needed.

He pulled the fabric down just an inch. Then another. Just enough to reveal the top of your hips, the soft line of your lower stomach. His lips followed–kissing each inch as it was exposed, trailing warmth into places that had never felt this kind of attention before. The contrast between the heat of his mouth and the cool air made your thighs twitch, and he hummed softly against your skin.

“God, you’re beautiful,” He whispered. “You don’t even know, do you…”

You didn’t respond. Couldn’t, really. Your fingers were tangled in the sheets again, breath catching every time his lips brushed lower, every time he said something in that breathless, reverent voice that made you feel like he was seeing you for the first time.

When he reached the base of your hips, he gave the waistband a firmer tug, and you lifted your hips to help him–knees bending slightly, thighs parting as he pulled the shorts down your legs. He slid them off with practiced care, and you watched as he tossed them aside with the same nonchalance he’d flung his shirt–like every barrier between you was one more step toward something sacred.

He paused there.

Just knelt between your legs for a second, hands resting on your thighs, eyes locked on yours like he needed to anchor himself before continuing. Then–without saying anything–he pushed your thighs up gently, spreading you open just enough.

His mouth pressed to the inside of your knee.

You gasped.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a claim. A promise. His lips lingered there for a second, and then they moved–trailing up the inside of your thigh in slow, wet presses, each one firmer than the last.

“You’ve got no idea,” He murmured against your skin. “How long I’ve wanted to do this… How many times I’ve imagined being between your thighs just like this…”

His teeth grazed the sensitive skin just above your inner thigh, and your hips jerked slightly at the contact. He didn’t move away. Just kissed the spot he’d grazed. Then again. Higher this time.

“Wanted to take my time with you,” He whispered, voice low, breath hot. “Make sure you know what it feels like when someone actually wants to do this…” Your hands gripped the comforter.

“I want to hear the way you sound when it’s good. When it’s real. When it’s slow…”

He kissed the top of your inner thigh–right at the edge of where you needed him most.

Then, finally, he glanced up–his glasses slightly crooked, cheeks flushed, mouth slick with his saliva and swollen.

“I’m gonna take such good care of you,” He said softly. “You’ll never forget it.”

His tongue moved with devastating precision–slow, savoring, like he had all the time in the world and wasn’t about to waste a single second.

He started with a kiss-low, just at the edge of your folds, then dragged his tongue up in one long, warm stripe that made your legs twitch. You gasped, hands flying instinctively to his hair as he groaned into you, deep and low, like he’d been starving for this.

“Jesus–Bob–” You whispered, voice cracking on the edge of a moan.

He didn’t answer. Just licked you again, slower this time, tongue flattening against you with such gentleness it made your stomach tighten. Then he did it again. And again. Until the room dissolved into heat and breath and the wet, obscene sound of him eating you like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted.

And maybe you were.

He used his mouth like a worshipper—like this wasn’t about getting you off, but about tasting everything he’d been dreaming of for weeks. He kissed your clit softly at first, then circled it with his tongue—just enough pressure to make you cry out, just enough to leave you chasing more. Your hips rocked against his mouth before you could stop them, and instead of pulling back, he moaned again, deeper this time, and grabbed your thighs—holding you open like a man possessed.

His fingers dug gently into your hips as he sucked on you now, lips wrapped around your clit with wet, deliberate pulls. His glasses were fogged beyond saving, the lenses glinting in the dorm light as they slipped further down his nose. He didn’t stop. Didn’t lift his head once. Just kept tasting and kissing and groaning like your body was the only thing he needed to study for the rest of his life.

You whimpered.

“F-Fuck, Bob–too good–”

That finally earned a reaction. He groaned again, louder, like your words were gasoline, and then–God–he slipped two fingers between your thighs, slick with your arousal, and pushed them in with a slow, practiced ease.

Your back arched.

The stretch was perfect. His fingers curled immediately, searching for that spot–and finding it like he’d mapped it out ahead of time. His mouth never left your clit, tongue flicking faster now, suction intensifying just slightly, just enough to send a full-body tremor through you.

“C’mon,” He murmured between strokes, voice ragged, lips brushing against you with every syllable. “That’s it… Just like that. Let me hear you.”

You did.

You let go of any remaining shred of restraint and moaned–loud, broken, lost to the rhythm of his fingers and the warmth of his mouth. Your thighs shook, your body tightening, unraveling. The dorm room felt like it might dissolve around you.

“G-Gonna–”

“I know,” he whispered, breath hot, eyes glassy as he looked up at you from between your thighs. “Go ahead. I got you.”

And then he did something devastating.

He sucked harder.

Curled his fingers deeper.

And moaned into you like your orgasm was his reward.

You shattered.

Your hands clutched his hair, your legs tensed around his head, and your breath broke into a stuttering cry as he licked you through it–never stopping, never letting up. He worshipped you all the way through your high, his mouth messy, eager, lips slick with you as he kept kissing, kept groaning, like your pleasure was the only thing that mattered.

When you finally slumped back, shaking, panting, spent–he didn’t move right away.

He kissed your inner thigh.

Then again. And again.

Then trailed up your body with soft, slow presses of his mouth, leaving a trail of your own taste on his lips as he made his way back up. His chest hovered over yours, his weight warm and solid, and when he finally kissed your mouth again–full and deep–you could taste yourself on his tongue.

And he let you.

Let you feel it.

Let you know exactly what he’d just done to you.

He pulled back from the kiss, hovering above you, mouth swollen from all the work he had done, lips slightly parted. He looked wrecked in the most beautiful way–hair mussed from your fingers, flushed cheeks, chest rising with the weight of restraint.

Then, like a flicker of light through the haze, he let out a breathy laugh. Quiet. Disbelieving. Joyful.

You laughed too–soft, breathless, dazed–your palm dragging slowly down his bare chest before reaching up to push his glasses back up his nose. The lenses had slipped almost entirely off his face, smudged and misted at the edges. You caught the little fingerprints and streaks near the bottom and smiled, chest still heaving slightly as you murmured:

“Where…The hell did you learn that?”

Bob’s laugh deepened this time, short and warm, his entire face flushing deeper crimson. He covered his face with one hand for a second, then dropped it to your waist, eyes shining with both amusement and bashfulness.

“From…My past partners?” He said, half like a question, half like a confession. “I told you I’m a giver. I may look timid but…As you can tell, I know my stuff.”

You grinned, your heart skipping at how proud–but still modest–he sounded. You leaned up, catching his mouth in another kiss, slower now, languid. He hummed against your lips, eyes fluttering shut as his hands pulled you just a little closer.

“Bit surprising,” you whispered against his mouth.

He nodded, kissing you again, hands smoothing down your sides. “I know.”

And it would’ve stayed gentle, dreamy, lazy like that–until your hand drifted between your bodies.

You hadn’t been trying to tease. Not really. But when your palm brushed over the thick bulge in his jeans, the way his breath hitched immediately had you curling your fingers lightly around him, just enough to feel the weight of him. The heat. The hardness pressing insistently behind the denim.

You smiled, eyes soft but mischievous. “Your turn?”

But to your surprise, Bob flinched—barely, but it was there. His hand caught your wrist gently, not to push you away, but to pause.

“It’s okay,” he said softly.

You blinked, your palm still resting against him. “What?” You tilted your head. “You don’t… even want to have sex?”

“It’s not that,” he said quickly, eyes darting to yours before lowering again. “I just…It’s really okay. You don’t have to.”

You sat up slightly, just enough to bring your faces closer again, concern slipping behind your smile.

“Are you…” Your voice gentle. “Are you nervous?”

His lashes fluttered. A breath stalled in his throat. And that was all the answer you needed.

You reached for his cheek, thumb brushing gently beneath his eye. His skin was hot, his jaw tight, but he leaned into your touch like he needed it.

“Bob,” You said softly, a smile curling into your voice. “How can you be nervous after you just gave me the best orgasm of my life?”

That made his eyes shoot open–just a little. You watched his expression shift. Like he’d heard something he hadn’t expected. Like praise landed harder than touch ever could.

“Seriously,” you continued, your voice warm and slow, “That was unreal. No one’s ever touched me like that. Not like they wanted to. Not like they were…Memorizing it.”

His mouth parted. You didn’t miss the way his breath trembled now. His hips shifted slightly against yours, and when you glanced down, you could see he was getting harder from your words alone.

You kissed the corner of his jaw. “You’re incredible, Bob.”

A sound left him–barely a sound, more of a low exhale, like it physically knocked something loose in him. His hand tightened slightly on your waist.

“You made me feel so good,” You whispered. “Safe. Wanted. Perfect.”

His eyes closed, lips parting with a shaky breath, and his hips rolled the tiniest bit into your palm. You could feel how much he wanted it now. How much he wanted you. He just hadn’t known if he was allowed.

And God, the way he responded to praise–it made something ache inside you.

Your foreheads rested together, breath shared in the quiet space between words, between heartbeats.

“Let’s do it together, hm?” You murmured, your voice warm and coaxing–softened with affection, laced with intent.

Bob let out the tiniest breath of a laugh, and his lips brushed yours as he smiled. “Okay.”

The word was nearly a whisper, but it carried weight–an unspoken trust folding itself into the syllables.

You leaned back just enough to reach between your bodies, your fingers brushing against the button of his jeans. He inhaled, shaky and quiet, watching you as you popped it open, then tugged the zipper down. The sound broke the hush of the room, loud in the stillness.

Bob shifted, lifting himself up just enough to hook his thumbs into the waistband. He wriggled out of his jeans with a little bit of awkwardness, and when the denim bunched at his ankles, he kicked them off with a grunt.

You both laughed. Low and breathless, the kind of laughter that came when something was too intimate not to be a little bit funny.

His glasses slid further down his nose.

“Sexy,” You teased, bumping your knee gently against his side.

He rolled his eyes–blushing, flustered, but grinning–and settled back between your thighs, his hands bracing himself on either side of your hips now. The closeness allowed you a better view of him, and you didn’t waste the opportunity.

Your gaze drifted downward. His boxer briefs were tented–straining. You could see the thick outline of him pressed against the fabric, the darkened patch of wetness at the tip where he was already leaking.

Your hand slid slowly down the middle of his torso–over the soft rise and fall of his stomach, the faint ridges of muscle, the trail of hair beneath his navel. Bob held perfectly still, his breath shallow, watching you.

When your fingers ghosted along the inside of his waistband, just above the swell of him, he sucked in a breath through his teeth.

“Tease,” He muttered, voice tight.

You didn’t deny it.

Instead, you slid your fingers a little deeper. Tugged the fabric down just enough to expose him.

He sprang free with a soft, needy sound escaping his throat.

Your eyes widened slightly.

He was…Big. Thick, flushed, already glistening with precum. The head was ruddy and swollen, shiny with need, and your stomach fluttered at the realization that he’d gotten like this just from pleasuring you.

He looked desperate.

You wrapped your fingers around him slowly, your palm sliding up his length with soft pressure. His breath hitched immediately, head tilting back slightly. His glasses slid another fraction down his nose, but he didn’t move to fix them–just closed his eyes for a moment, his chest lifting in a shallow, shivering inhale.

You stroked him again–long, slow, deliberate. Your grip was just firm enough to make him twitch, your thumb swiping over the slick bead at his tip.

His hips bucked. He gasped, and then let out a shaky laugh.

“Sensitive?” you murmured, lips tugging into a knowing smirk.

Bob’s head dropped forward a bit, cheeks flushed to hell. His voice cracked slightly.

“N-no…Anticipation.” He corrected jokingly, using your own words against you.

You laughed softly. So did he.

But you didn’t stop.

You kept stroking him, slow and sensual, your hand gliding up and down the length of him, savoring every tremble in his thighs, every shift in his breath, every twitch of his fingers against the mattress beside you. He was fully braced now, arms trembling slightly as he rocked into your touch.

His voice came out thin, frayed at the edges.

“I’m really…Really not gonna last if you keep doing that, and…” He swallowed hard, voice dropping to a whisper, “And I really do want to have sex with you…”

His eyes met yours. Wide. Pleading. Vulnerable.

Like he wanted to say more but couldn’t figure out how.

You leaned up slowly, hand still wrapped around him, lips brushing his ear.

“No need to beg…” You whispered, voice thick with heat. “But if you want to come inside me, Bob…Then you better hurry up and get these off.”

His whole body jolted.

A groan–low, raw, helpless–escaped him.

His boxer briefs were gone a second later. Pushed down and kicked away without a single thought, like he couldn’t bear another second of distance.

He came back over you with reverent slowness–climbing the length of your body like he was rediscovering it inch by inch.

His bare chest skimmed yours, warm and solid. His hips dipped low, the hard length of him brushing against the inside of your thigh, and your breath hitched at the contact.

“God,” he whispered, voice raw as his lips brushed against your neck. “You feel so good already.”

You arched into him just slightly, your hands finding his shoulders–broad and warm beneath your palms, still trembling faintly from restraint. His glasses were fogging again, slipping lower, but he didn’t seem to notice. Didn’t care.

He kissed the side of your neck.

Then your jaw.

Then your cheek–lingering there with a kind of gentleness that made your stomach twist.

And then he kissed your mouth again. Slow. Sweet. Deep.

You moaned softly into him.

The tops of his thighs pressed flush to the backs of yours now, his cock resting heavily between your legs–leaking precum that smeared slightly against your inner thigh as he shifted to fit himself against you perfectly.

His hand rose to your cheek, cradling it, thumb stroking lightly against your skin as he pulled back just enough to speak.

“You sure?” He asked softly, voice shaking with the weight of everything he was holding in. His eyes searched yours, pupils blown, cheeks flushed.

You nodded. Slow. Certain.

“I’m sure,” You whispered. He let out a shaky breath, then he reached down between the both of you, eyes never leaving yours.

You felt the warm glide of his knuckles against your folds first, then the soft, slick drag of his cock as he slowly ran the tip of himself through your arousal.

Your breath caught.

He swirled it over your clit once, twice–just enough to make your thighs twitch.

And God, the way he looked at you while he did it.

Eyes locked. Lips parted. Worship written into every line of his face, made you feel dizzy.

“You’re so wet,” He murmured. “You feel…Unreal.” You whimpered, your nails digging lightly into his shoulder as your other hand wrapped tighter around his bicep.

“Bob…” You whispered, voice already trembling. “Please.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips–soft and slow and steady.

Then–finally–he began to push in.

You both moaned.

The stretch hit immediately, slow and burning, a delicious ache that made your spine arch and your mouth fall open.

“F-fuck,” Bob gasped, his forehead dropping briefly to yours as he sank in inch by inch. “God, you’re–you’re so tight. So warm. You feel so good…Wow…” Your hips shifted, trying to take more, and his hands immediately gripped your thighs, grounding you.

“Easy,” He said, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I got you. Just breathe.”

You nodded, your head swimming.

He pushed deeper.

You could feel every inch–every throb of him, every shudder in his breath as your walls stretched around him.

“Just like that,” He murmured. “Doing so good. Taking me so well.” You whimpered, and the sound cracked open something in him.

“You like that?” He whispered, kissing your cheek again, his hips rolling just the slightest bit deeper. “You like hearing how perfect you feel around me?”

“Yes,” you gasped. “God, yes, Bob–keep talking–please–”

“Fuck,” He breathed, his voice breaking again. “You’re gonna kill me.”

He rocked forward the last inch with a soft, helpless moan. Your body trembled beneath his as you adjusted, your thighs hugging his hips, your hands gripping him tightly. Bob groaned into your neck, voice ragged.

“God…You’re perfect. I swear, you’re–Jesus, I don’t even know how to describe this–” You turned your head, catching his mouth again in a deep, desperate kiss. You could feel him trembling above you, his muscles taut, breath stuttering with the effort of staying still.

“You feel so fucking good, Bob–so full–so deep–” His breath hitched.

“Say that again,” He whimpered, “Please.”

You kissed his neck, your voice thick with heat.

“You fill me up so good…God it feels amazing.” Bob let out a deep moan.

Then he began to move.

Just a tiny thrust at first–barely pulling out before pressing back in, the friction slow and hot and devastating.

Your mouth fell open.

His lips ghosted over your cheek as he whispered, “Gonna make you come on me just like this…” Your back arched at the words, your cheek bumping against his glasses. “You like the sound of that?” He added. Your fingers curled into his shoulder blades, nails dragging softly over warm skin as you nodded, breath catching on a moan.

“Yes…Yes, please.”

The quiet plea cracked something open in him.

He kissed you again–mouth hot, searching, needier this time–and his hips began to move.

Slow at first.

A deep roll forward, dragging his length out almost completely before easing back in, the friction molten, smooth, aching. You gasped into his mouth, your body lifting slightly to meet the next thrust. Bob groaned–low and husky–and pulled back just enough to look at you.

His pupils were blown wide, sweat dampening the hair at his temples, glasses fogging up again from your breath. Still, he didn’t take them off. He looked wrecked. Gorgeous. Reverent.

“God, you feel…” He whispered, voice thick and ruined as he rocked into you again, a little harder this time, “So good…So tight around me, baby–oh god.” Your breath stuttered. The nickname, unintentional or not, hit low and warm and made you clench involuntarily around him.

He felt it.

He swore softly–“Jesus”–and dropped his head to your shoulder, the next thrust coming sharper, more instinctual.

Your hands roamed—up his back, over the rise of his shoulders, down to his hips where your fingers dug in just slightly. He kissed your neck between thrusts, then bit gently just beneath your ear, and the second his teeth grazed your skin, you gasped.

Your body clenched again.

Bob moaned, full and broken.

“Fuck, that–You like that?” He murmured, voice hot and desperate against your ear. “You like when I do that?”

“Y-Yeah,” You whispered, trembling, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “You feel so good, Bob…You’re hitting every part of me.”

He groaned–long, low, filthy in how soft it sounded. His hips began to move faster now, deeper, each thrust dragging a moan from your throat, and his hands slid beneath your thighs, hiking them higher around his waist so he could sink in even further.

“God, you’re perfect,” He praised. “You’re so perfect for me. Every inch of you–I swear–fuck–”

Your head fell back against the pillow. You were gasping now, barely able to respond, but you tried. You wanted him to hear it. You wanted him to know.

“You’re so good at this,” You panted, voice trembling. “So good at making me feel good–God, you’re incredible, Bob–”

His whole body stilled for half a second, as if praise struck something too deep.

Then he moved faster.

A rougher thrust–still controlled, still measured, but heavier now, thicker with want. He let out a moan against your neck, raw and hot, and your back arched at the sound.

You could feel him everywhere–his chest brushing yours, his lips at your throat, his hands gripping you tight like he needed to feel every part of you at once.

You cried out, hips lifting into his, clenching around him with every thick, slick stroke. He felt it. Groaned again. Slid one hand up your body to cradle the side of your face.

“Look at me,” he breathed, voice hoarse.

You did.

And the second your eyes locked, his pace stuttered–just for a heartbeat–like the sight of you, soft and dazed and open beneath him, was enough to make him lose rhythm.

Then he started thrusting again. Deep. Steady. Hot.

“I want you to come on me,” He whispered, voice cracking with the weight of it. “I want to feel you come again–want to hear how good it feels.”

Your lips parted. Your thighs trembled.

“Bob,” You gasped, desperate now. “You’re so good–please don’t stop–please–”

He kissed you again. Deep. Desperate. All tongue and breath and heat. His thrusts got heavier, faster, until you could feel your climax curling up your spine like a fuse.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” He murmured, hips stuttering with restraint. “I can feel it, baby… You’re so tight–so fucking wet–come for me–please–“

You shattered.

With a cry that broke in the middle, your walls clenched around him, waves of heat and release rolling through you so hard your vision blurred. Bob moaned your name–ragged, reverent–thrusting into you a few more times before he groaned loud against your shoulder and came with a shuddering, broken gasp. Bob’s entire body tensed as he came–his cock pulsing deep inside you, hips stuttering against yours in involuntary thrusts as thick, hot ropes of cum filled you.

You felt everything.

The way his muscles tensed above you, taut and trembling. The low, broken sound he made as he buried his face in your neck. The way his arms curled tighter around your waist like he needed to hold onto something to stay connected to consciousness

“F-Fuck,” He choked out, hips giving one more weak, slow push. His release was hot and endless, spreading warmth low in your belly as his body finally started to give in. His breathing was ragged, the heat of it ghosting over your skin. He didn’t pull out right away.

Didn’t move at all for a long moment.

Just slumped forward, his bare chest sticky against yours, the last tremors of orgasm still rolling through him. His forehead pressed into your shoulder, and you felt him exhale with all the weight of a man undone.

Even the frames of his glasses were warm.

You let your arms slide around his back, hands splayed wide across the muscles there, sticky with sweat, anchoring you both. The only sounds in the room were your shallow, echoing breaths, and the soft hum of a distant hallway light buzzing just outside your dorm door.

Bob’s weight against you felt right. Heavy in the best way. Settled. Natural.

Your fingertips traced slow, thoughtless patterns over his back as you both lay tangled together, letting the afterglow settle around your limbs like warm syrup. Your heartbeats synced slowly–yours still fluttering, his gradually calming.

And then–

He shifted.

Lifted himself slightly on one trembling arm, the other brushing your hair back from your forehead. His cheeks were flushed, his lips pink, and his glasses crooked beyond saving. His smile was dazed. Soft. Glowing.

He leaned in and kissed you again. A soft kiss. Lingering. The kind of kiss that said thank you, and also more, and also stay.

When he pulled back, still breathless, still inside you, he murmured:

“We’re gonna have to start going to the library to study.”

You blinked. Confused. Flushed and blinking at him through the haze, your breath still catching a little in your throat.

“…Why?” You asked, voice hoarse but amused, one hand reaching up to gently smooth the short, light brown strands of his hair that were now sticking out in every direction.

His smile widened–lopsided and boyish, just a little cocky.

“Because we’re never going to get any studying done if we’re near a bed…” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “The temptation will be too strong.”

You laughed–light, breathless, your chest shaking under his with the sound.

“Well,” You teased, trailing your fingertips down the curve of his back, “There goes that positive reinforcement idea, then.”

Bob leaned in and kissed your cheek. Then the tip of your nose.

“I’m sure we can figure out a replacement,” He replied, “Something that can be done in public spaces.”

You burst out laughing.

He did too.

And you stayed like that–wrapped up in each other, laughter echoing soft and breathless into the quiet room.

[buntanteen]

svt fic recs list <3 - svt 10 year anniversary: seungkwan - sfw & nsfw

summary: 10 sfw & 10 nsfw seungkwan reader insert fics :)

contains: 18+ nsfw (mdni!!) majority is afab reader

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

✩ sfw section ✩

1. ❥ fake dating seungkwan - @xinganhao

i will ALWAYS eat up the fake dating concepttttt and i'm obsessed with how this one turned out hehe

2. ❥ the gift of love - @wheeboo

oh to cuddle up and be kissed by kwannie?? AND LEAVE HICKEYS ON THAT PRETTY GUY LOROVFEKJBS

3. ❥ strangers to lovers - @leejungchans

THIS IS SO STINKING CUTEEEEEE!! THE SNACKS!! THE NOTESSSSSSS!! THE UNI SETTING!!

4. ❥ BF TEXTS WITH SEUNGKWAN - @coupsctrl

he's the most handsome cutie patootie bf everrrrr hehhe

5. ❥ dating seungkwan includes… - @svtswhorehouse

it would be so easy going to date him :,)) i feel like i'd enjoy it a lottt

6. ❥ not on priv - @suhnshinehaos

SPORTY SEUNGKWAN IS MY FAV OMGKEDJNB

7. ❥ "it's not like i'm in love with you or anything." - @studioeisa

PLEASEEEEEEEE not the ex not even being there

8. ❥ dating seungkwan feels like.. - @ssentimentals

seungkwan is such a safe space to have fun and be silly and be yourself :,)

9. ❥ seungkwan bf habits - @odxrilove

*twirls hair* hehehe holding seungkwan's handddddddddd~ and the lil acts of service?!!? hehehehe

10. ❥ strangers to enemies!seungkwan - @xinganhao

i was CACKLINGGG like!!?! the way they both handled the situation is so!!!?!?!?!

✩ nsfw section ✩

1. ❥ thigh tiding - @hoshifighting

y'all...his thighs...HIS THIGHS?! TGERDFJBK

2. ❥ slow hands - @miniseokminnies

slightly subby kwannie??? bro, he sounds so good here AHHHKGSBF

3. ❥ voice - @cheolism-archive

his sweetheart boyfriend mode to...omfg i can'ttttt here kjebrgfd (being called kitten too!?!?)

4. ❥ creampie/claiming - @hoshifighting

the way i went FERAL after reading this AHH

5. ❥ fwb!seungkwan - @cheoliedollie

the way i was blushing, cackling and then melting at the end?!?!? that's my pookie wookie super dookie

6. ❥ sugar baby!seungkwan - @hoshifighting

GOLD DIGGER SEUNGKWAN IS A CONCEPT I DIDN'T KNOW I NEEDED UNTIL NOW??

7. ❥ his reward - @cheolism-archive

and when when vfjkw when u?!?! wuh esjkdgbs AHH?

8. ❥ choking - @hoshifighting

get his pretty hands around my neck nowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww (pls :3)

9. ❥ sweet things - @toruro

bent over for kwannie and kwannie only 😌

10. ❥ sporty college fling!seungkwan - @hoshifighting

and when i say i LOVEEEEEEEEEEEEE sporty seungkwan?!?!? I MEAN THAT SHITTTT!! reader being over his bullshit but then giving in skjgfbdk

[jjwolves]

FLY TO ABRAXAS ━━━━▼━━━━

What: 5 Headcanons of ENA X Occult Reader

Who: ENA from ENA by Joel G

How Much: ~800 words, ~3 mins

Credits: Image Banner -> Joel G

Warnings: Derealization, Disassociation, Occultism

ENA listens intently to your philosophical ramblings. She might not understand everything you’re saying in the way you intend, but she takes note and tries to relate it to her world. Once, you explained the concept of ‘id, ego and superego’ to her after dealing with a particularly rude being. You explained that your ego could have indulged your id and gone off on them, or it could have chosen to use your superego in order to avoid conflict. She turned blue trying to understand your jargon. “How come your sides get fun names while mine have to share? Did they run out of names in the thesaurus?!”

Your favorite polygon is always trying to get you to do magic. “Now, brave wizard, cast a spell upon the celery bridge so that we may have safe passage!” “Heat this egg with the fires your mind. Cook with the oven of the magi!” “Please banish these tears before I throw up.” No phrase nor meditation was required for that last one. You took her face and kissed the cool side of her face, under her eye. ENA had to reboot, but after she did, she shined like gold freshly-transmuted from lead. She looks at you with wide eyes and pixel hearts. “Your spell worked!” You play along.

“Oh great sorcerer, scry my future from your magic deck!” ENA kneels before you in cartoonish reverence and leans further and further back until she turns herself into a hoop. You assure her that it’s no big deal, so she should unfurl and get comfy somewhere. “Your message is received!” She sits cross-legged in front of the Tarot spread you’ve set down, wiggling around in place. You take a card and read it. “The Cutie.” Huh? Is that a stylized picture of you? You ask her how she did that. She blinks innocently. You take another. “Temperance.” Hmm. “Did I win?” It’s not so simple, probably, but you tell her that she did. “Oh, joy!”

You went drinking with ENA once. The ‘alcohol’ was clearly flashing code and missing textures but you had come to understand that a lot of this world was symbolic. Nothing too removed from your experience. You and ENA raised your glasses, and you began nursing your drink. ENA, however, downed hers almost immediately and asked for another. A few hours of this and you were walking her home, getting her through the door and laying her down on your couch. A single glowing sphere on a coffee table shone dimly into the dark room. She drunkenly slurred, “Heeeeey. Hey… You know those sigil practices and magic and stuff you do? Listen. Why don’t you… Uh, meditate on me? I have loooots. Of. Special shapes to show you~ Hehehehe.” You sat on the floor and observed as ENA’s form would flash into the shapes of chthonic spirits—fangs, horns, flames and odd smiles. But still her. You closed your eyes and let her wild colors imprint on them. The light was snuffed out on its own. You think you manifested a good, but weird, future.

Occasionally, your lifestyle makes you spiral. You knew that looking too deep into the abyss unprepared would mean madness and self-delusion. That digging too deep within your own mind would unveil forbidden patterns you could never unsee. Sometimes you suffer these drawbacks, and ENA, as unstable as she is, does her best to help. There are days where you lose your grip and mutter about the angry gods of your mind and the hostile connections holding the world together. ENA takes your head in her hands, rubs circles with her thumbs and says, “You’re over-sensing. It’s alright. Try to get your mental mirror to reflect on this connection. Return my dearest to me, please! Their safety and presence is of upmost importance.” Other times, she’s less composed but just as determined to help. “I’m too stupid to fix your brain! I’m sorry! Please, just let me be your glasses!” She puts oddly-colored hands over your eyes and peppers you with increasingly-distressed kisses. But it’s good. Sometimes when she touches you, the symbols which blind you can melt away into the yellow and blue. Maybe she can be your lens for a while. “I’m glad you’re feeling simple again. Oh! Ha, not simple, not like that. You know, feeling stupendous again! And if things start to feel complicated, I have two fascinating hues on which you can focus!” ENA starts to wave from side to side to show off her colors. Gods above, you love that girl.

A/N: Forget "ENA can be cute", ENA can be creepy and esoteric

[madschiavelique]

Hello! I saw your rules so I decided to I guess rerequest in the way you asked. I was wondering if you could write about a female reader coming in one day with a sundress and Miguel just goes absolutely feral. He’s just trying to keep it professionally but ends up failing and just going ham on the reader

OMG anon i'm kissing your brain hehehehe (summer is killing us all besties : please don't forget to hydrate yourself <3)

summary : miguel sees you in a sundress

content warning : SMUT (18+) minors dni, fingering, biting and marking, this man is so in love with you, fem!reader, no use of Y/N, praise word count : 1,6k

Summer had arrived, and as in most dimensions, except for the apocalyptic two or three where everything was frozen or the weather had simply declined with little chance of a return, it was hot.

And although the air-conditioning was in every room and corridor of the spider society, that in no way prevented members from dressing a little more lightly, although some might find this a sign of a lack of professionalism, one in particular, needless to mention, whose name began with Mi and ended with Guel.

Today was a fairly hot day, and all the spiders were practically fighting for ice cubes, a spot of coolness that would bring them comfort. Many of them were dressed in shorts, a variety of shirts, t-shirts, skirts and even tank tops.

So you seized the opportunity and put on a summer dress. It was charming, in your favourite colour, not too long and not too short, stopping just above the knees, with a beautifully plunging neckline to show off your curves. It was light, incredibly comfortable to wear, and needless to say that in spider society, it was a change to see you like this.

Like most of the members, people were used to seeing you in your suit, or in civilian clothes that could be considered professional. But this dress? It was a little ray of freshness.

Miguel was chatting in the cafeteria with Jessica and Peter, all having a serious discussion that you were supposed to join. You entered the cafeteria, looking around for them.

"Oh, hey over here!" called Peter to you with a smile, "Oh. My. God. What's the occasion for you dressing like that?"

Miguel, who until now had been stubbornly focused on getting Peter to stand still for this meeting, huffed before turning his head and...

He became static, his breath caught, his eyes wide open as he watched you come towards him. All the others were oysters, and you were a pearl: the best of them all, the most beautiful, the purest.

You offered a gentle smile as you came closer, and his lips parted slightly as the gesture gave him the warmth of thousands of sunbeams.

"It's true that you look ravishing, cutie," Jess admitted as you sat down next to Miguel, facing the other two on the opposite side of the table. "What's the occasion?" she repeated after Peter's question.

"Yeah," said Miguel, clearing his throat as he straightened up and pretended to keep a straight face, "what's the occasion?

You gave them all a small, smiling laugh.

"Nothing in particular, I'm just trying to beat the heat," you said as you took your seat, "why? I shouldn't have?" The possibility that your attire might pose a problem in maintaining the balance of the multiverse hadn't occurred to you.

"No!" The strength with which Miguel denied this surprised you all.

He swallowed, his sentence had come out a little stronger and a little more involved than he had intended.

"No," he pulled himself together as he took on his usual grumpy tone that everyone knew well, "although it's a lack of professionalism, we're not going so far as to prevent your freedom of clothing in the Society."

Well caught up, he thought as he brought his glass of water to his lips. Around the table, he was the only one wearing his suit. Because it was made of pixels and produced by a refined technological composite, he didn't suffer from the heat. Jess was wearing a t-shirt and cycling shorts, Peter a shirt and trousers, and you your summer dress.

Jess and Peter exchanged a quick glance, a mischievous smile stretching across their lips. Most of the elite and close teammates knew about your relationship with Miguel, and although he wasn't always the most public about your relationship, he cared about you immensely, and they both could only imagine the effect you were having on him.

"So, what did I miss?" you asked.

Jess started to explain the situation, but Miguel wasn't really listening. His eyes were obviously riveted on you, and even when he tried to refocus on the conversation, his thoughts and eyes were redirected in your direction as if magnetised.

You were... radiant, beautiful, and... for a moment his eyes went down to the bench you were sharing: the skirt part of your dress was slightly pleated, exposing the skin of your slightly spread thighs, sinking into the space where your cunt was.

He suddenly had the urge to slide his hand over your soft skin, to press it between his fingers and see the bounce of it brimming over under the grip of his hand.

And your cleavage was showing your bare skin, and he wanted to kiss your neck, to nibble your collarbone as he kissed down to the hollow of your breasts...

Keeping his hands to himself was becoming complicated, every little movement you made, even if it was just to readjust your sleeve over your shoulder, was becoming intoxicating. How was it possible to become even hotter by wearing more clothes?

His professionalism really started to take a hit when your leg inadvertently brushed against his, a shiver running down his spine.

But he couldn't touch you here, there was no tablecloth at this cafeteria table that could conceal his desires.

How he longed to do it, even if it was just to touch your thigh with his fingers, to run his hands over your sublimely covered body and to-

"Miguel? Can you remind us about what the last reports stipulated considering the last anomaly?" asked Peter, bursting Miguel's thought bubble, "I can't remember it for the life of me, it must be the heat." he complained. "What do you guys say we postpone this meeting? I can't think straight no matter how many fresh cocktails i drink."

It was true that the glasses had accumulated on Peter's side. A sigh escaped Jessica's lips.

" I regret to say it, but I agree. We can't think properly with the temperature."

Tell me about it, thought Miguel. He didn't care about the temperature, the real distraction was you. He exchanged a glance with you, and you looked at him with a small smile, waiting for his answer.

"Good," he said, simply nodding. "I won't detain you, you can leave."

Peter let out a small chirp, he and Jess getting up from the table to leave. Once away, you turned to Miguel, tilting your head to the side in playful puzzlement.

"The great Miguel O'Hara closing a meeting like that? Summer really does have its magic."

If summer could let him see you every day in that outfit, he'd make sure it lasted forever. His eyes roamed your silhouette again, biting the inside of his cheek. His hand skimmed the side of your leg, hovering gently over it until he placed it on the inside of your thigh, pressing.

You breathed a small sigh of relief, his eyes returning to yours.

"I'm guessing you like the dress," you said more softly.

"Very," he replied simply.

His behaviour was becoming less and less... acceptable in public. So he took your hand and led you out of the cafeteria. Would he be able to wait until you returned to his quarters ? Probably not.

But he knew every nook and cranny of the building, it was his, so you passed down one corridor, then two, then three, until you came to an alleyway you'd never seen before, darkened by the lack of activity.

He glanced in each direction, then immediately came to press you against the first wall you came to, kissing you hungrily.

"That dress is going to be the death of me," he murmured as he came to kiss your cheek followed by your neck, his hands placed on your waist and thigh as he feasted on your skin.

His hand slid up your leg, gripping the warm skin of your thigh as you let out a moan. His fingers moved up your inner thigh almost hastily, unable to contain his need to touch you.

"You're so pretty," he breathed as he came back to kiss you, "all pretty for me, nena."

His fingers reached the fabric of your panties, your body arching. His fingers went under the elastic of the latter and down to your cunt.

"Tengo la novia más linda del mundo," he whispered, kissing the back of your neck, tracing the line of your pulse as he made circular movements around your clit. "Such a beautiful body," he inserted a finger inside you, making you whine softly, "such a beautiful voice," your wetness was starting to stick to his hand. "And it's all mine."

With his other hand, he shifted the short sleeve of your dress, exposing more of your shoulder and placing soft pecks on it. His lips caressed your skin, and his fangs grazed it as he added a second finger.

He was curving his fingers in a sublime way, the strokes combining perfectly with the undulations he was making and hitting the perfect spot.

He kissed the skin of your shoulder, sucking it until it left a bluish mark.

"All mine," he repeated in a murmur as he ran his tongue over the mark he'd just made.

Your moans multiplied, breath hitching, bringing you closer and closer to orgasm, the hot cloud in your lower belly and back spreading.

"Come nena, let me see your pretty face when you do," he said, kissing you a little before pulling back and watching you with his drunken eyes.

You came, your legs all wobbly as Miguel's hand came to rest on your back to keep you upright. He kissed your temple and forehead, calming you gently.

"You're a dream," he said, covering the mark he'd left on your skin with your sleeve as you trembled, only he was aware of the hold he had over you.

Needless to say, from that day on in the summer, the air-conditioning became suspiciously faulty, because he had every intention of seeing you wearing that dress again.

[girlgrouptrash101]

Karina (Aespa) as Your Girlfriend

Requests:

"aespa’s karina as your gf please?"

"Can you do Karina from aespa as a girlfriend please?"

"I would like to request Aespa Karina as your girlfriend 😍"

"hi!! i hope your having a great day and i hope your doing well, can i request aespa’s karina as your gf? thank you~"

"Hello! Can I please request Aespa’s Karina as your girlfriend? Thank you!"

A/N: cannot believe it has been over 2 years since I've written anything lol. so here's a lil something to try get the creative juices flowing again wOO 🤭

- C

when 99% of the relationship is you just staring at karina and wondering how someone can be that beautiful. as you SHOULD

idk why but i feel like karina is the perfect person for the trope where she would make a habit of going to the same coffee shop every day even though she hates coffee,, just because you were the cute barista that worked there

despite her cool and composed aura, she unfortunately had no idea how to talk to you outside of ordering a drink; her brain would just fizzle out whenever she tried to strike up further conversation 🥲

so you had to be the one to take the first step, which took a hot minute because perhaps. miss yoo jimin had a sliiiiiightly threatening aura at first (you quickly learned she was really just a cutie patootie behind that stoic face she tended to wear. teehee)

after gaining enough courage, you ended up asking her out for coffee because you thought hm,, she comes here every day for coffee she must love it!

safe to say it was a little surprising when she responded with a very embarrassed "...i don't even like coffee"

with the tips of her ears flushing red as she had to explain her reasoning behind coming in every day

you decided instead to take her to the carnival that came to town every summer

[insert cliche top of the ferris wheel kiss here]

and every summer since then you've always gone to the carnival together, the two of you running around to go on all the rides like little kids, never getting tired of it even though you do the same thing every time it comes

she's the kind of girl to be super head over heels for you but never admit it until those times where you lay side by side in bed at night, your eyes doing your best to see each other's silhouettes in the dark

her hand coming up to rest on your cheek, thumb gently caressing your face as she reminds you of how much you mean to her

but don't bring it up the morning after unless you wanna get hit with the "idek what you're talking about i would never be so sappy 🤨"

fit checks!!!

refuses to leave the house in said fit unless you send a paragraph in all caps hyping her tf up (it's just what she deserves!)

queen of soft launching your relationship on social media 🥹

like IG stories of flowers you gave her, or your hands intertwined, but nothing too much more than that

because it's her relationship and she doesn't need the world to know about every little thing you two get up to,, that's for her to know and her only

well......... her and the aespa girlies who can't help but smile every time their leader comes home and launches herself face first into her pillow, gushing over how much she likes you and how nice your date was

(which she will NEVER admit happens. she's no softie, okay? okay. yes she is hehehehe)

ningning stealing karina's phone at the dorm and blowing your phone up with memes n sending off guard pics of Karina lol <3

Loves going for walks in the park nearby, no matter the weather or time, especially if there's something on her mind and she just wants to get some fresh air and chat it out with you

lives in your hoodies whether you like it or not, you have no choice cuz girlie just treats your wardrobe as hers

never brings PJs when she's staying at yours as an excuse for you to lend her even more clothes

brings a film camera everywhere,, her favourite thing is when the film fills up and she gets the pictures developed so she can bring them back to you and you can look back over the memories shared together

scrapbooking together !!! will even spend hours in the stationary shop looking for the perfect pen/washi tape to use for it hehe.

Can't stand it but also loves it when you compliment her as often as you do

(but it hurts ur heart a little when you feel she doesn't believe what you say is true, you wish she could feel the same love she has for you for herself too :[ )

so you pledge to always be there to lift her up and be her #1 fan!! in both day to day life and as a My of course

which meanssss first row seats to all the aespa concerts, practice nights, just generally supporting her through thick and thin, and she will no doubt do the same for you!

and that one day you came to an aespa fansign to surprise her 🥹 she had to hold back all the affection she wanted to give you :((((

gaming nights 🤓 and by gaming i mean gardenscapes....... god she's such a lil nerd

anime nights 🤓 her getting all excited when her faves come on screen, smacking you on the leg repeatedly with joy while she explains what's going on (because as much as you enjoy sitting down to watch her favourite shows w her, you really didn't understand half of it LOL)

loooooves late night arcade dates

especially so she can win plushies in the claw machines,,, or rather, you can win them for her (so chivalrous 😁)

her love for claw machine plushies gets so bad that your bed now has a mountain of them stacked up that you have to throw off before bed everyyyyy night omg

not to change the subject but like. Karina's morning cuddles 🥹

or for the mornings where you wake up late, your eyes opening to the sound of her padding back into the bedroom to check on you, a smile creeping onto your face as you feel the bed sink where she sits by your side

and when she leans over to kiss your forehead, her gorgeous locks framing her face while her cute glasses slip down her nose 🥹🥹🥹 IM GONNA CRY

tldr; the softest girl that just wants to be loved the way she loves you 😔

[queen-of-reptiles]

𝙷𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙽 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚂

description: lauren and her arsenal player girlfriend go on holiday for their year anniversary and use it as a way to remind everyone why they hold the top spot as fav woso couple

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

lauren james x female y/n

disclaimer: I am in no way saying Lauren is gay or bi-sexual - this is strictly a work of fiction

there are not enough blurbs and imagines about lauren so I made some

entirely inspired by @daydreamingleclerc :))

some sexual themes and comments - nothing too bad :)

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Lj10 just posted

liked by samanthakerr20, mbrighty04, and 111, 264 others

Lj10 my girlfriend is hotter than urs 🤷‍♀️👍

tagged: y/n

view all 4927 comments:

samanthakerr20: @y/n how do you look like that? 😭

^

y/n: idk i cry a lot???

^

username1: LMAOOOOOO

^

username2: she’s so fcking stupid 😂😭

mbrighty04: y/n damnnnnn 🔥🔥

^

y/n: heheheh 😙

leahwilliamsonn: okayyyyyy 😍

^

y/n: it’s all for u captain 😇

^

Lj10: the fck? 🤨🤨

^

leahwilliamsonn: shhhh this doesn’t involve you lj

katie_mccabe11: lauren your insta is turning into a y/n fanpage mate …

^

y/n: tbf mine is the same for her 😝

^

katie_mccabe11: that’s cause ur a simp 👍

^

y/n: damnnn grandma learning the kids speech 🥹

^

katie_mccabe11: you’re only 21 shut up! 😡

username3: SHES SO HOT OMG 😍😍

username4: fuckkkkkkkkk 🔥🔥🔥

username5: 🍑🍑🍑

miafishel10: how many takes did the second photo take? 😭

^

Lj10: too many mate

^

y/n: IT HAD TO BE PERFECT BABY 😠

^

lucybronze: bet lj didn’t complain too much wth you on top of her tho y/n 😶😶

^

Lj10: ;)))

stanwaygeorgia: Cuties 🥺

^

y/n: 😊😌

y/n: alsoooo my girlfriend’s hotter than urs baby 💋

^

Lj10: liar 🙄

^

y/n: ik u r but what am i? 🤷‍♀️

^

Lj10: hottest girl in the world ;)

^

y/n: I have once again been outplayed lads 🥹

Arsenalwfc: looking peachy y/n! ❤️

^

username6: arsenal admin knows what’s up 😭😂

^

arsenalwfc: the sky

^

username7: OMGGGG 😭😭

view other comments…

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n just posted

y/n

play at the hotel bowling alley ✔️

lauren gets hit on by the waitress whose been serving us all night ✔️

lauren reply with asking for another drink for ‘her missus’ ✔️

me not slapping a bitch ✔️

tagged Lj10

liked by leahwillamsonn, katie_mccabe11 and 132, 424 others

view all 6737 comments

username1: HAHAHAHAH

leahwilliamsonn: ShUt UP 😭

^

y/n: Wasn’t like we’d been snogging all night either 😠

^

reece: shoulda slapped her mate 😂

^

Lj10: don’t start !!

username2: I LOVE REECE AND Y/N’S RELATIONSHIP 🥹🥹🥹

katie_mccabe11: I imagine you were fuming ??! 😡

^

y/n: nahhh we went and made out in their photo booth and left one of the three print-outs on their cute print wall 💋💋

^

lucybronze: iconic 😂

username3: don’t be shy - tell us her name 😶😶

keirawalsh: who won ?? 🤨🤨

^

samanthakerr20: deffo y/n 😭💋

^

mbrighty04: nahhh lj all the way 👍👍

^

caitlinfoord: nah y/n has to be ! xx

^

y/n: It was Caity! 😌😌

^

Lj10: let you win baby @y/n

^

y/n: take that back you little shit 😡

^

Lj10: I’m older and taller love 😂

username4: why would she come onto lauren tho ??? like these two are SO in love ?! 😡

^

username5: cause lauren’s famous !! 🙄🙄

see more comments…

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n just posted on their close friends story

replies

mbrighty04: I CANNOT WITH YOU TWO 😭

y/n: hehehehehheh 😘

reece: how do i bleach my eyes ?? 😭

y/n: i can do it with a spoon if you need? xx

reece: i hate you sm

jbeattie91: Amber would like to say she is stealing all of these poses for us 😝

y/n: YALL WOULD EAT THESE OMG 😫😫

lucybronze: you two 🙄🥺

y/n: luv u too !!

miafishel10: HAWT 🔥

y/n: like you b 😉😗

samanthakerr20: YOU LEFT THAT?

ON THE WALL?

FOR EVERYONE TO SEE?

y/n: nahhh only pictures 2-4 😜

samanthakerr20: you give me gray hairs

k says you guys r cute tho

y/n: omg say hi to her i miss her sm !! 🥺💋

katie_mccabe11: jesus god

y/n: not in this place of worship

see 43 other replies…

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n just posted on their close friends story

replies

samanthakerr20 liked this

alessiarusso99 liked this

katie_mccabe11 liked this

ellatoone liked this

mbrighty04 liked this

lucybronze liked this

miafishel10 liked this

caitlinfoord liked this

see 45 other replies…

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n just posted on their close friends story

replies

miafishel10: HAHAHAHAHAH THIS IS GOLD 😭😭

stanwaygeorgia: PLOT TWIST LMAO 😂

lucybronze: omg NO

y/n: istg luce imma slap this bitch - SHES ASKED LJ THREE TIMES IF SHE WANTS HELP PUTTING SUNCREAM ON

lucybronze: i kinda want you too, but Keira is saying no to the slap

y/n: UGH fineee

samanthakerr20: THIS IS CHAOS

alessiarusso99: omg omg omg

ella says mark your territory …

y/n: BET

see 57 other replies…

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n just posted on their close friends story

replies

reece: HAHAHAHAHAHAH 😭😭

y/n: the games the game 🤷‍♀️

katie_mccabe11: absolutely gold omg 😶😶

y/n: honestly it was outta pocket 😫

alessiarusso99: omg omg omg

y/n: it was honestly a moment 😭

lucybronze: what a day 😂

y/n: honestly it was a nice day mainly 😜

miafishel10: is the new one nice at least????

y/n: HES FANTASTIC! His name is Sam and he’s showing us his puppy he has with his bf which is adorable and he’s taken some cute pics of me and Laur so look out for them ;))))

miafishel10: legend 😫❤️

see 49 other replies…

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Lj10 just posted

Lj10 we really are hot

tagged y/n

liked by leahwilliamsonn, mbrighty04, and 108, 211 others

view all 2376 comments

mbright04: cuties 🥺

^

Lj10: cheers Mills! y/n says luv u! x

samanthakerr20: these are actually so sweet 😫

^

Lj10: Thanks Sammy 👍

lucybronze: who took these photos?!!

^

Lj10: our new waiter Sam! Absolute Legend!

^

y/n: we love sam v much! 😘

username1: THEY ARE SO CUTE

username2: UGH 🔥

username3: ROMANTIC! ❤️❤️

y/n: just would like to point out as cute as these are - lj still wouldn’t play mermaids with me :((((

^

reece: @Lj10 that is UNACCEPTABLE 😡😡

^

y/n: thank you ik !! 😌

^

Lj10: omg babe 🙄

alessiarusso99: I’LL PLAY MERMAIDS WITH YOU Y/N 🩷🩷

^

ellatoone: SAME

^

esme.morgan: SAME 😌😌

^

y/n: HOW QUICK CAN YA’LL GET ON A PLANE 🥺😩

^

Lj10: YOU LOT DARE ISTG 😠😤

view more comments…

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n just posted

y/n one whole year with you baby and six more days in our own paradise ❤️ i love you x

tagged @Lj10

liked by samanthakerr20, leahwilliamsonn, and 187, 234 others

comments disabled

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Lj10 just posted

Lj10 i love you so lucky to have had a year with you, excited for more to come <3 xx

tagged y/n

liked by mbrighty04, reece, and 164, 877 others

comments disabled

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n just posted on her story

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

END

ya girl ran out of image allowances on the app - which ngl is stupid!

But lemme what you lot think?? request if you want anything and I’ll do my best xoxox

- Queenie xo

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

[lottie-pupgirl]

Tgirl who found your blog here, normally I'm a complete sub, but you are so cute and subby~ god, the things I'd do to a cutie like you, fucking into your wet hole, forcing you to clean me off, gods, I just wanna make you into my pet:3

hehehehe!!!! i love seeing silly people like you want to use me :3

a sub wanting to play with me too? goodness i feel so special :33

[ticklygiggles]

The Avatar of Lust | Asmo x Reader [N$FW]

Commissioned by @intheticklecloset

A/N: kekekeke this header makes me laugh, our cute sheep is not so innocent on this fic hehehehe anyways, big thanks to the kind and supportive Nym! I hope you enjoy this. It came out longer than I expected, but I hope it's good! I'm sorry for the wait~

Summary: No little dirty secret can't escape the Avatar of Lust.

Sex with Asmo was the best. After all, he was the Avatar of Lust and he really knew what he was doing. Making love with Asmo was never boring. He always surprised you with new positions and games that sent you into a subspace of pleasure that you never wanted to leave. Asmo managed to make the most obscene and embarrassing sounds escape from your mouth and he swallowed them with hot and desperate kisses. It seemed like he had a thousand hands, one touching your intimacy, another your nipples, and another holding your jaw to keep you in place while he ate your lips in a kiss. 

He was so good to you, always making sure that you were feeling the best and very loved. He simply did everything right… especially tickling you. 

You giggled when he softly brushed his fingertips against the heated skin of your hips as his mouth made you see stars. A pretty moan made its way out and your hips moved forward, seeking more of his tongue and those tickles that made you cover with goosebumps. 

His fingers moved higher, walking up your back and over that soft spot beneath your ribs. You giggled more, your body begging to get away from the sensation, but you desperately wanted more of it. More of that pleasure that you just couldn't share with Asmo for fear that he would think it was ridiculous, childish. Your orgasm was close, and the more Asmo tickled you and his tongue worked magic between your legs, the more stars and sparks clouded your vision. You were going to come.

“A-Asmo, I- 

He chuckled, leaving your heated flesh to look at you with a cheeky smile. “You really love it when I tickle you, huh?” 

That delicious orgasm that was already beginning to make your lower belly tremble suddenly stopped. Your entire body froze and your eyes widened. That terrible hot feeling of humiliation ran through your entire body. The flush spread from your face to your chest. You were a fool. An idiot. You should have been more discreet about this, but how could you? How could you act like you weren't having a great time with his hands doing your skin sparkle with the playful touch of his hands. It was what you had always wanted, and Asmo gave it to you almost daily, without reservation and with joy, and you thought, in your little pleasure-clouded mind, that he would never notice. You really were a fool. 

“Hey,” Asmo said, cleaning his mouth before placing his hands against your heated cheeks. “Baby. What is wrong? Are you not feeling well?” 

He lifted your face, but you so desperately avoided his eyes, not knowing what else to do. 

“What is wrong? Wait, is it because I said you like being- ah, please don't cry!” 

You didn't want to, but your eyes filled with tears and soon they were streaming down your red cheeks. Asmo desperately tried to wipe them up, but they came out like faucets, non-stop. You really felt ashamed, humiliated. As if you had been caught doing the most horrible crime in this world.

“My cutie, please!” Asmo whined, little tears in his eyes too. “Why are you like this? Did I say something wrong? I am so sorry! Please forgive me!” You shook your head and he gasped. “You don't forgive me?!” 

That made you giggle and you shook your head again, sobbing as you hid your face against his chest. “I'm sorry, Asmo. I am so ashamed, I didn't want you to notice I got off by you tickling me, but I felt so good.” 

Asmo hugged you tightly, kissing the top of your head. “Hey, why are you apologizing? You did nothing wrong!” 

You sniffed, “You'll think I'm childish.” 

He laughed, “what are you saying? My love, how could I think that? I'm pretty sure you've never made a comment about all my kinks, hmm? Why would I think yours is childish?” He gently cradled your face between his hands, his thumbs lovingly brushing against your cheekbones. “I love everything about you, my lovely. Besides, isn't tickling so cute? I love listening to your laughter,” he said, kissing your nose. “Please, don't feel shy towards me, cutie. I'm here to please you, you know?” 

His words tried to stop you from crying, but when you heard him you couldn't help but cry even more, hugging him tightly. He whined playfully, but hugged you back just as hard. 

You were not sure how long you both lasted like this. You both were completely naked and still a little sticky with sweat and other fluids, but it didn't matter, not when he had been so kind and had accepted you so tenderly like this. 

“Hey…,” he said against your ear when you had finally stopped crying. You shivered, recognizing that sultry tone of his voice. “Now that my precious creature has revealed those deep secrets, I feel a reward should be given.” 

You looked up and a moan got stuck in your throat when you saw his lustful eyes on you. He looked like a predator looking at his prey, famished, mouth watering and you shuddered, feeling heat gathering in your lower tummy. 

“Would you like that, baby?” Asmo grinned at you, he was his usual self, but his grin was… dangerous, you could see his fangs twinkling behind his lips and you gulped, slowly nodding your head, smiling at him. 

“I'd love that.”

He giggled, “very well. Lay down, would you? We're gonna play a lot tonight.” You did as you were told, laying down comfortably on your back on his big bed. “Would you be a love and spread your legs and arms for me? Very well.”

Your heart was hammering against your chest. Was he going to… tickle you? You felt your heart dropping in an amazing way when you saw him pulling out some red robe from one of his drawers. 

“Are you okay with being tied up, love?” You nodded. “We've done this before, but I want to know your limits.”

“I… want to know my limits too,” you said and Asmo’s grin widened. 

“Don't say such things, love. You're gonna make me cum.” Only then, you saw he was half erect already and your ears heated up. 

He giggled as he approached the bed. He gently grabbed one of your arms and pulled at it nicely before wrapping the silky robe around your wrist and then to the bedpost of his bed. He did so with your other three limbs and admired his handiwork from the end of the bed. You pulled at your arms and legs and gasped softly, feeling adrenaline, fear and excitement rushing through you when you could barely move your limbs. 

“Don't hyperventilate,” he said and you notice your breath going a bit erratic. “As always, we won't do anything you don't want to do. You remember that right?” You nodded. “Great. Do you also remember your safeword?” 

You nodded again. “Cupcake,” you said softly. 

“Louder. Otherwise I won't hear you and won't know when to stop.” 

“Cupcake.”

“That's a good baby,” he said, grinning at you for a moment before sighing loudly. “I wish you could look at you, baby,” he said, brushing his fingernails against the top of your foot and up your leg. “You always look so pretty when tied up. Your body is so seductive… I wonder where I should start.. “ 

You gasped, jerking when you felt his nails against your inner thigh. “A-Asmo!”

“Mhm, I am right here. You sure look eager for me to start. Poor cutie, for how long have you been dreaming of this, hmm? Did you fantasize about me tickling you until you went crazy? I'm sure you did.” 

You moaned, whimpering when his nails caressed your hip and waist and side. You arched your back and giggled softly when he touched your armpit and the inside of your elbow. Your skin craved more of that maddening sensation, but you whined when he made his way back again. Just brushing your body so lightly with his nails. 

“A-Asmo, plehease.”

“Please what, cutie?” You looked at him with pleading eyes, and he raised a taunting eyebrow as he tickled your knee, making you giggle. “I can't know what you want if you don't speak up.”

“You- ah! Y-You know what I wahant. Please, please, please.” 

“Use your words,” Asmo said, his voice serious but the smirk on his lips was wide. 

Tears were sparkling against your lashes as you looked at him, your eyes pleading. “Tickle me, please?” 

He giggled, “of course, honeybunch.” 

The touch of his nails on one of the soles of your feet felt electrifying. You gasped heavily before squealing and laughing wildly. His fingers skittered across your skin, up and down your foot. Asmo scratched at your arch, the ball of your foot and that horrible sensitive spot underneath your toes. Laughter was shooting out of your mouth, too fast and too loud.  

“Hehe, I knew you were ticklish, but look at you go, baby,” he said over your laughter, his fingers focusing on the top of your foot, making you squeal. “And you're leaking so much already, are you enjoying yourself?”

You nodded, that was the only thing you could do besides laughing. The sensation was already overwhelming and he was only tickling one foot; chills ran through your body and, mingling with your laughter, small moans of pleasure escaped your lips. It felt incredibly good. All those sparks traveled directly between your legs and your hips moved up and down, searching for some kind of friction to ease your arousal. 

Asmo giggled, “Feet are really sensitive,” he said softly. “They're a common erogenous zone, did you know? Especially the toes.” His fingers wiggled against the sensitive stems of your toes and they spread, making him laugh. “Oh, look at them, they really love their tickles huh? Then… thank you for the food.”

“Haah! Ahahahasmo!” You shrieked, feeling the warmth and dampness of his mouth in your toes. His tongue wiggled in the spaces in between, tickling you into nearly hysterics. “Thahahat tihihickles too bahahad! Plehehease, nnghh!” 

Asmo hummed and you squealed when his teeth scraped against the pads of your toes. Your foot wiggled softly, but that only invited him to scratch your sole again, making you see stars. 

“Asmo!” You gasped. You could feel yourself throbbing. “Ahahahsmohoho, wahahait plehehease, I thihihink- ah! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

What a wonderful release. Never in your life did you think you could ever come from tickling alone, but there you were, shaking and moaning with the force of your orgasm. You felt like your body was made of sparks, your mind was blank as you enjoyed that fabulous feeling. 

“Oho? Did that feel really good, baby?” His tender voice came from the clouds around your head and you nodded softly. The tickling had stopped. “I'm sure you know one gets more sensitive after cumming right?” 

Your breath hitched as you looked at him, surprised to see that he was at your other foot, a beautiful, stiff, white feather twirling between his fingers as he smiled wickedly at you. 

Your mouth trembled into a wobbly smile. “A-Ahasmoho, wahait, please.” 

“No waiting for you, beautiful,” he said, winking at you as the tip of the feather lightly traced down your foot. 

The sensation was barely there, but your body was sensitive and you couldn't help but laugh out loud at that small, delicate touch. The feather tip zigzagged from under your toes to your heel and the squeals you let out every time it grazed a very sensitive spot made Asmo laugh.

It swirled against the arch of your foot, making you jump and giggle like crazy, “it tihihihickles!” 

“Don't tell me!” he said playfully as he grazed the feather between your toes. Your laughter increased and your toes spread for him. “Do you like the feather, baby? Look at your little toes, they behave so well, right?” 

“Ihihi lihihike ihihit,” you laughed, your leg jerking every time the feather would jump from between your toes. 

“Me too, I want to use it somewhere else,” he declared and he finally moved from your feet, gracing the feather up your leg. Zigzagging against your shin and swirling around your knee. You giggled brightly, feeling goosebumps raise on your skin as he lightly tickled your thigh. 

Now closer, you could see that Asmo was fully erect. His cock bounced with every step he took. The tip was red and he was leaking a ridiculous amount of precum.

Catching you staring at him, he chuckled and you jumped when he leaned closer to your face. “Are you seeing how you have me, beautiful creature? I am like this because of you and your beautiful laughter.”

Your heart beat wildly in your chest. You felt warmth on your cheeks and ears and smiled shyly, lifting your chin a little so you could kiss him, but Asmo pulled away with a chuckle. 

“Don't try to distract me, naughty you. I'm on a mission right now,” he said and he suddenly jumped on the bed between your legs. You gasped, feeling shame as you tried to close your legs, but oh you were tied so very nicely. “Hehe, nuh-uh, you cannot hide, beautiful. Let's see now…” 

“AHAHAHA! N-Nohohot the feahahahatheheher!” 

“This spot is also super sensitive right? Riiight here in your groin.” The feather swept against the sensitive skin and it tickled like hell. Your hips bucked and you clenched, making Asmo whistle. 

“Look at you,” he said tenderly. “My cutie is feeling so good, huh?” 

“AHAHAHSMOHOHO!” You shrieked with laughter when you felt one of his hands wiggling its fingers on your other groin. You shook and your hips circled as pretty moans filled the room again. 

“Yes, my lovely?” He said teasingly, leaving the feather aside so he could graze his fingernails lightly across the sensitive skin of your thighs. He scribbled the inner part and squeezed the top of them gently, making you jump and squeal embarrassingly loud. “Where does it tickle more, beautiful? Here?” He asked, drawing hearts all over your upper thighs. “Or here?” A shriek made its way out as he found your groin again. “Ah, so it's here right?” 

“PLEHEHEASE!” 

“You really like it when I lightly tickle you here, huh? Look how wet you are. Didn't you just cum?” He chuckled. “Could it be that you want to cum again?” 

“Nnghh- ahahahsmohoho. B-Bahahaby plehease, I- WAIT! NGHH!” 

Your eyes crossed as you felt Asmo's tongue pressing against your hot, throbbing skin. He took you into his mouth with ease while his hands continued to tickle your crotch. The touch of his tongue felt ticklish against your oversensitive skin, so you couldn't help but laugh harder as your hips bucked up and down against his mouth. 

“Ahahahasmo plehehease! P-Plehehehase dohohon't! I'm gohohonna cuhuhum agahahain, I'm gohohonna- aaangh!” 

There you were, cumming hard in his mouth. You thought you were going to faint, because your vision became cloudy and you saw stars, the shiver of pleasure running through your body almost felt like too much. Your body trembled non-stop with the aftershocks of your orgasm while Asmo continued licking and sucking your intimacy, wanting to squeeze every last drop of your pleasure. 

“Haaah,” He sighed in delight as he lifted his face from between your legs, one of his hands wiping his mouth and chin. His eyes were darkened with lust and you moaned at seeing him. “That was nice, huh? Let's move on, then.” 

“AAAHAHAHA! WAHAHAIT! Wahahahait, plehehehease!” 

Without even letting you rest for a second, his agile and gentle hands found your hips and you exploded in cackles as he pinched your poor hip bones. Your hips rolled and bucked, trying to remove his hands, but he didn't even flinch, following your every move with ease.

“Asmo! AHAHASMO, plehehease! PLEHEHEASE!” 

You barely heard Asmo's chuckle, but at no time did he stop his attack on your hips. At some point, you lost track of time; you felt like he had been tickling you there for hours, days even. And it kept feeling so ticklish and your laughter only seemed to increase in volume and hysteria.

“You surely are laughing a lot,” Asmo said, his hands being replaced by the soft feather tracing your hips, making you giggle hysterically. “And enjoying yourself so much, I can tell. You haven't even safeworded! These hips sure are sensitive, poor them~”

Tears of laughter were streaming down your face. You felt a little shy, feeling some drool dripping from the side of your mouth, but you really couldn't control your actions when you were laughing as hard as that. It felt nice to not completely care as you enjoyed something you thought you would never enjoy. Asmo really was so good to you. 

“Are you still up for some more fun, baby?” You nodded, giggling as he circled your belly button with the feather. Asmo chuckled. “You truly wanted this, huh? I can't believe you didn't tell me before. I could've tickled you a million times already!” 

“I'm sohohorry.” 

Asmo pouted, “I think this silly baby needs to be punished,” he said with a grin as his fingers started to wiggle against your tummy, clawing at the soft sides and you threw your head back with laughter. 

No matter where his fingers found your skin, it felt too ticklish and you thought maybe Asmo was using some spell to make you more sensitive to his touch? You didn't remember being so ticklish when you had tickle fights with him or his brothers- he was probably using a little of his magic. Well, it wasn't like you were going to stop him anyway. 

Your lower belly, your navel, the sides of your tummy, the center; his hands were everywhere and he had you howling with laughter in mere seconds, your limbs pulling at their restraints, but it was all useless. Your laughter was becoming a little hoarse as he continued his exploration – his thumbs digging into your waist making you jump and scream with laughter. His fingers vibrating against your ribs and the spaces between them made your voice go silent for a few seconds, but Asmo only laughed softly and continued.He counted each of your ribs over and over again, from top to bottom and bottom to top. 

“Please stop moving, cutie. I keep losing count of your cute ribs.”

“Baby, I gotta make sure you didn't break one when you were play fighting with Mammon, that brute can be a lot sometimes.”

“Huh, you get more hysterical the higher the ribs are, could it be that one is hurt? Don't worry, I'll check thoroughly!” 

It was driving you crazy. The sensations short-circuiting your brain barely allowed you to think about anything other than how ticklish you felt at that moment. Asmo's voice teasing you and telling you how beautiful you looked made no sense over your loud cackling, but the best was yet to come. 

Asmo laughed as he stopped to let you rest for a second. "You really... no matter what I do, you don't even ask me to stop, huh? How can you be so adorable?" You jumped with a laugh as his nails traced that rib that almost made you faint. “But baby,” he said, pouting. “I’m all horny now because of you.” 

Raising your head, you felt bad at seeing the poor and sorry state of his cock. The red color actually contrasted very well with Asmo's skin, but that... he looked like he was about to burst! You blinked, looking at his poor dick and then at his teary eyes. 

You smirked at him. “Well… who said you couldn't use that?” 

You bucked your hips and his cheeks flushed red and a wide smile spread across his lips. Two heavy moans filled the room as he finally thrusted inside of you, filling you to the brim. Asmo had to stop a couple of times to avoid coming so soon, and the fact that he didn't move was torture for you. You whined, desperately moving your hips, but he held them down, stopping you.

“C-Calm down, dove,” he breathed through gritted teeth. “I don't want to cum yet.”

“I do want to cum,” you whined again and he laughed softly, lifting his face to look at you. You were breathless for a moment. 

Asmo's face was truly a work of art. His eyes were always bright and flirtatious, sparkling with mischief, but right at that moment, they were darkened with lust. That playful spark was clouded by desire and pleasure. A heavy blush spread across his face and his mouth was slightly open, his tongue poking out a little, licking his lips.  

Asmo moaned, (he was never afraid to voice his pleasure), and he looked at you with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “Why are you clenching me so suddenly, hmm? Did you like my face so much?” 

“T-Tickle me more, please,” you begged, arching your back. “Tickle me a bit- a bit more, yes?” 

“Of course I will tickle you more, beautiful,” he promised, his hips finally touching your skin as he put his whole length inside you. “You just need to be good and have a bit of patience,” you whined, squirming and huffing as he stimulated you from inside. 

Asmo held your hips firmly and you were startled when your legs were suddenly free from the rope.  You quickly wrapped them around him and brought him impossibly closer to you.

“Very nice, baby. Not too tight, though, otherwise I won't be able to move.” Your legs loosened a bit. “If you push me away, I will stop completely, do you hear me?” 

You frowned, not understanding what he was saying, but soon found out when you felt his moist lips placing a wet kiss against your underarm. You gasped heavily, jerking away from his touch, only to find one of his hands already latched to your other armpit, fingers quickly scribbling against the taut skin. 

Laughter quickly escaped you and you started to squirm, but no matter what side you jerked to, Asmo was there, tickling you. He started nibbling and blowing raspberries against one of your armpits as the other was under an evil attack of fingertips digging, wiggling and vibrating, waking up all of the nerve endings there. 

“AHAHAHASMO,” you shrieked, shaking your head. “Nohohoho nihihihibbling!” You pleaded, snorting as he did the opposite and nibbled you more and faster. 

“I do what I want, baby. Now…”

“NGH!” 

Oh how wonderful his length felt inside you. He moved his hips away, his cock rubbing all the sensitive spots inside you, and then he let himself go back, pounding hard against you, hitting that spot that made your eyes roll back into your head. His hands and mouth didn't stop making you laugh and his hips went back and forth with a rhythm that was leaving you breathless. You jumped with a shriek of laughter as his free hand found that terribly ticklish spot right behind your ribs. Your back arched involuntarily and that only resulted in more tickling in both of your armpits. 

You were going crazy. Too many sensations at the same time, you felt like you were going to explode. You couldn't stop laughing even for a second, and your moans became louder and more frequent. His mouth, his hands, his cock were all on you; you were short of breath, your body was tired and your stomach hurt from laughing so much, but you didn't want Asmo to ever stop. You wanted to continue feeling everything, your mind filled with your laughter and moans. 

“I'M CUHUHUMMING!” You said, sobbing as uncontrollable laughter made you shake. “PLEHEHEASE, AHAHASMO!” 

He grunted, pounding inside you over and over and over until you finally cummed. Your vision became blurry and you sobbed as you felt overwhelmed with the force of your orgasm. It almost hurt as you felt the tickles of pleasure run through your body. You felt outside yourself, in a subspace of pleasure that you couldn't escape, and the only thing that could bring you back were those terrible, maddening tickles in your armpits and ribs. 

The sound that came out of your mouth no longer sounded like laughter to you, like when you repeat a word too many times and it loses its meaning, your laughter or the sound that came from your mouth no longer made sense. The only constant thing was those tickles and the pleasure of continuing to feel Asmo pounding inside as he finally came. 

His hands finally stopped as he shook with the force of his orgasm. Your body went limp under him as he thrusted inside you a couple of times more, riding his climax as much as he could. At that moment you were nothing more than his toy and that thought made you clench against his sensitive cock, causing him to moan harder against your ear. 

Your breathing and his were erratic and neither of you said anything for a long moment until his fingers grazed your sides and you whimpered, shivering and squirming. 

“Baby,” he sighed in your ear, you hummed weakly in response. “What is your safeword?” 

Your eyes felt heavy, you barely could remember your name, but your safeword was there, in the back of your mind, tucked away in a locked drawer. You hummed, moving your head to the side so you could speak in his ear as well. 

“Cupcake,” you answered, your voice hoarse. 

Asmo nodded, “very well,” he said, lifting his face to look at you. “Make sure not to forget it, baby, I want to cum again.” 

You smiled, more of that awful sound suddenly escaping your lips again. You didn't want this to ever end. If your circle of hell was going to be like this, you figured it wouldn't be so bad, as long as Asmo was there with you too. 

[chebyshevptera]

hi cheby just wondering what’s ur fave jay…………..……….. season wise i mean🙈can be based on character or just vibes or whatever hehehehe

OMG hi mootie!! :3

excellent question … I’ve answered something similar before I believe! my favorite jay season is a tie between season 5 (possession) and season 7 (hands of time)

hands of time gets a lot of bad reviews because the dialogue and animation errors and whatnot but I genuinely think it has some of the best if not THE best ninja characterization in the entire show. They are very close-knit and silly with each other, and Jay particularly I feel like is done extremely well. Perfect balance of a whiny brat and a super intelligent kid who will do anything for his friends and family <3

I like possession Jay a lot too . he’s mischievous and annoying and does stupid things and it’s very in character for him . especially because in contrast he also manipulates tech like nobody’s business . and all of his little quips and banter with the others was so funnyyy😭😭 he always has something to say and I love him for it

tbh s3 Jay wasn’t all that bad either <3 i don’t care for rebooted but he was pretty in character there . and ofc i always feel the need to mention s1 Jay cuz he’s a cutie patootie

thank u for the ask :3 muah love u 🩷🩷

[spiciestmango]

Hehehehe saw ur tags on my answer/post! Hehehe which pokemon from each type are u picking to 'love on' ;3

-sleevee

ohhh my god so glad u asked :3 @sleevee-espeon

Bug: Gotttta hand it to Scoliopede, Scyther close second

Dark: Surprising no one its Absol!

Dragon: Goodra...... If paired with sylveon specifically tho Hydregion !

Electric: Theres a lot of good options here... Ill go emolga for the sake of not choosing a veelution at every opportunity absbsbjejsn (tho jolteon is S tier as well obvs)

Fairy: Immediately going back on that and choosing sylveon all day yeah

Fighting: Mienshao my beloved... (Breloom got a heck of a lot hotter too tho (wonder why))

Fire: oooh fire has so many good ones,, see IM flareon so i dont *always wanna fuck flareon (tho i would most of the time), ill give it to Arcanine tho woof !!! (craving takis suddenly)

Flying: Toss up between Charizard or Dragonite and i think Charizard wins out in the end, not to be a basic bitch or anything

Ghost: I wanna use Hisuian Zorua like a fleshlite next question (Gengar could also possess me tho)

Grass: Theresss so many cuties here woof ok i gotta go with specifically spring deerling cus yeah deer pussy, next (Leafeon runnerup duh but so is skyform shaymin)

Ground: As much as i love flygon (and their cocks) Monster mind has done irreparable damage to my brain so Sandslash wins

Ice: Snowpix snowpix snowpix snowpix I want to melt their tailhole with my flareon knot give me a snowpix please god also their knots taste like popsicles (thats canon probobly (glaceon runnerup ;3))

Normal: Ok eevee u can have this one awoooooo (Girafarig scratches a special niche for me tho)

Poison: Has anyone seen that pheremone gif set with Salazzle? Yeah that's an easy pick for me

Psychic: Kind of an espeon angle here idunno... (Mew comes 2nd!)

Rock: The rockruff / lycanroc line is puppy and i want to knot them and i want them to knot me its called enrichment

Steel: Empoleon can get it for real. It used to be lucario but ✨ someone ✨ ruined him for me boooo

Water: I want to literally fully enter lapras pussy no i will not explain further. (Of course vaporeon is an easy fuck god look at their tail)

Wow this was actually so much harder to write than i thought whdjsnsn hope u found my answers entertaining!!!

[moonspirit]

how does aruani handle their drinks?

Hello anon!

Not well? xD

In the sense that Armin is a lightweight, so he really can't handle anything. Half a beer and he's tipsy. A little bit more and he's sloshed. Armin getting drunk means possible-almost-certain tears and an emotional outburst, climaxed with cheesy proclamations of friendship and love. Whoever is next to him will relive their entire history with him and become enlightened to his deepest thoughts of them.

"... Connie. I... *hic* I love you..."

"Yeah yeah I know, you've said it 10 times already. Now sleep."

"... I really.. love you."

"... I love you too man."

"... well you sometimes smell but... I know... I still remember how we, hehe... went to the market and chased... hehehehe a puppy..."

"... I SMELL???!!!"

They can't even be mad at him because he's a drunk loser cutie pie.

WIth Annie he's just repeating all his wedding vows for the millionth time because Drunk Armin sees Annie in max shoujo filter.

"... I swear I won't... let you down... you're so pretty... will you make me... a happy man and *hic* marry me?"

"... yeah."

"Hehhe... Anniieeeeeee.... I... *hic* I... I love you so much and *starts sobbing* I c-can't believe you're going to... be my wife..."

"Well I've been your wife for 10 years but. Yeah. Yes. Okay."

Drunk Annie, on the other hand, becomes your local clingy purry cat that loves headbutts (aggressive) and cuddling (affectionate). The choice between these two depends on who's next to her.

Basically, this is a Rated R cat (violence, gore, death, graphic content).

"Reiner."

"Yeah, Annie? I think you've had too many drinks, you don't look good..."

"Reiner."

"Y-yeah? What do you need?"

"I've been haarrd on you."

"Huh?"

"I've hit you a lot, huh."

"Oh... well I guess... but I deserv-"

"I'm sorrrrry."

"...Annie?"

"I meanit."

"O-okay? Well, that's... nice. I appreciate it, really-"

"Lemme give you a hug."

"... Awww. Annie, of course I-"

*horrible crunching noise, blood splatters everywhere, teeth go flying. A headbutt has dislocated a jaw.*

Oh but... this is also a Rated R cat ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

"A-Ah-Arumih..."

"Yes, Annie?"

"I... Mhmmmmm..."

"Wanna go home?"

"Mhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..."

"... Ah--um--Annie wait--"

"Arumihhhhhh~"

"Annie um-listen, that's my... thigh-"

"I want to... mhmmmmmmmmmmmm....."

"--Not th-that, Annie, come on--ah!--please, we should just--eee!-go home? okay?"

*everyone else watching as poor Armin struggles with his very horny and excited girlfriend trying to give him a footjob under the table*

RIP.

[bigtreefest]

Hello! I'm making the rounds with the same ask, and it's kind of turning into a thing now. I have asked @gremlin-girly, @krirebr and @stargazingfangirl18 the same thing and they gave amazing responds.

So my question is, Can I get your rank of the CE!Babes?

I look forward to what you think!

Yes! I’ve seen you making your way around, and I absolutely adore this ask! I feel like my number one is a well-known phenomenon, but honestly, sometimes it gets a little cloudy for me past there! I’m gonna go ahead and rank just the babes from the movies that I’ve seen (or at least most of them. Ya girl only has so much brain energy) and see where that goes!! (I tried to pick gifs that I think fit each character. Also, only some of these get gifs bc tumblr makes me choose only 10 pieces of media😭)

♾️: Me from Playing it Cool

I. Cannot. Stand. This. Man. Selfish. Can only listen to people if he pictures himself in that situation. A cynical user. Convinces a girl to cheat on her fiancé and his friends back him up! Terrible.

(♾️ - 1): Jimmy Dobyne

Ugh. I’ll be honest, I spent the first half of this movie really rooting for Jimmy! He seemed like a humble farm boy who was just dealt a bad hand, but then he takes that and sleeps with a girl who’s almost engaged while his date is having a mental breakdown!! Just to finally accept her later? Too much for me. Too painful.

15. Mr. Freezy

Ew. But also… he dances? Hehe. But his teeth are nasty and scare me😠

14. Paul Diskant

It’s no secret I looooove the Diskant look. The haircut is art to me. But this man is engaged, and let’s be honest, by the way he acts and the era, you know it’s to some pretty little thing. That’s not me and yeah, I resent him for that. Plus, his ending was dumb, and he done did it to himself😭

13. Harvard Hottie

Omg he’s (almost) perfect. (Thick neck make brain go brrrr😵‍💫) Rich kid turned good! Except he puts a lot of pressure on Annie to live by his whims when she’s in a tough spot and that rubbed me the wrong way. And we never get much follow up on him. Limited material🥺

12. Nick Gant

Hehe, how can’t you love him? He’s a little messy, and honestly, why he’s so low is that I expect him to have practiced his ability more!! That way he would’ve been better equipped to face all that he did. Also, all that fighting for a girl but idk how I felt about their connection…

11. Nick Vaughn

Omg a messy sweetie again. Spends so much time running away from his problems tho. Kisses a married woman, BUT he tries really hard not to. And he’s really doing his best the whole time🥺

10. Frank Adler

Messy former professor turned surrogate father wahoo! The moments where he’s taking care of Mary are so sweet, but he’s also got a little bit of a vain selfish streak I wouldn’t want in a partner

9. Andy Barber

I go so back and forth on him! Like, he’s so fluffy and domestic. I want a secure suburban life with him🥺 but ALSO, especially if you read the book, this man has so much internalized misogyny and is a major victim to confirmation bias. He only believes what he wants and is not willing to hear out anyone else about it! Makes anyone who mildly disagrees with him a threat to his well-being.

8. Lloyd Hansen

Hehehehe. This movie has honestly become so comforting to me. Lloyd is so deranged, but I think the main draw is how shameless he is about it!! He’s unapologetically striving for a goal. Sure, are his methods cruel and unnecessary and immoral? Yes. But he’s doing it all by his own code.

7. Colin Shea

Man, I wanted to dislike him. I wanted to dislike him so badly!! But for real, he was the only decent person in that movie!! Total fun and encouraging of just being yourself and not defining your life by a number. And so breathy and sexy in some very important moments👀🫣 I would’ve crumbled to his charms. He’s a cutie.

6. Johnny Storm

What really gets me is Johnny’s heart of gold. He’s really trying in the second movie. Any time he hurts one of his teammates, the regret and despair is all over his face. He just wants to make it better. Do better, be better.

5. Ransom Drysdale

Oh gosh, I think it’s the intelligence that really gets me. The apathy that he somehow covers with feigned empathy. The urgency he uses. The way he has it all figured out with an air of confidence. Would he hate someone like me? Maybe. But…I just like lookin’ at him🥰

4. Ari Levinson

So fun fact, when I first started this account, I thought I was only gonna post about Bucky and Ari lol. You can thank @ronearoundblindly for making me fall in love with this majestic lion of a man before I even watched the movie. He’s just gorgeous. The movie is meh, but the look is *chef’s kiss* and overall, someone who does everything they can for those they care about is a total swoon.

3. Steve Rogers

Perfect. Perfection. Once he comes into his own, this man always has just the right thing to say. Gosh, he’s such a dreamboat. Probably the first CE character I ever drooled over (unless we’re counting NATM but half of that was 2000s aesthetic alone). I never expected to write much for Steve either, but I think ‘The Rainmaker’ made me fall in love with him even more. I just love a guy who’s really put-together on the outside and a little messy on the inside. It humanizes him🥰

2. Curtis Everett

I….was honestly confused? when I first found out people thought Curtis was hot? I’m so sorry, I feel like this list makes me seem like a total jerk😂 I was like “ew, buzz cut.” But now I’m like, “eh, buzz cut?😏” ya know? Curtis in general, as I hope I’ve said many times before, is just a good guy! There’s no better leader than one who thinks they don’t deserve it, but know it’s their duty to care for those around them that can’t do it on their own. He’s so altruistic, truly! Humble, strong, silent. Did you know out of all the one-shots on this blog, I’ve written the most about this man? He just lends himself to so much comfort and happiness. How can we deny him and ourselves of that? Hehe beefy broad man.

1. Jake Jensen

Gosh, this was honestly the biggest surprise to me. My love for Jake hit me in the face like a ton of bricks. I recall, the first time I realized there was a fandom for CE characters, being like “oh man, I don’t know. That facial hair really isn’t for me.” Like, I was like “what a nerd! Why do people like him?” But I kept an open mind, read the fics, then finally watched the movie. What a swoon! A sweet, awkward dork who just wants love🥺 I’m gonna thank @yenzys-lucky-charm for introducing Jake to me in the proper light that made me fall in love for a man so competent, so ~everything that I want and need~ #dexteroushands

Anyway, thank you for asking and reading if you followed this to the end🫣 it’s a rarity that I get to psychoanalyze myself this much lol. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this😂

[vixien11]

Velvette x Emily as (edited) Fizzmodeus quotes because yes

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+- @dallina17-tagging you in this bc WE NEED TO SPREAD VELVETTE X EMILY PROPAGANDA

Emily: I did schedule you through lunch, but I left room for a big old breakfaaast! (Sing song voice) Velvette: Let me guess, (Eyeroll and smirk) I'm handling that too? Emily: I mean, (Flying around to grab Velvette's coffee) Unless you want me to take a crack at cooking again? Velvette: (Chuckle) Heheheh! No. Never again. Emily: Whaaaat? Maybe I can burn the milk this time! Velvette: Staaaaaawp~! Emily: (Flying behind Velvette and holding her shoulders after handing her the coffee) Oh! Oh! You know what I'm craving?? Pizza! :3 Velvette: No, you maniac! Pizza is a lunch food. (Put's down coffee cup on coffee table. She knew better than to drink it) Emily: Pizza time! Pizza time! (Holds Velvette's hands and touches there foreheads)(Makes them both hover above the ground, spinning)(They laugh together) -+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+- Velvette: About your plans... (Ordering Emily's favorite pizza) You're still going to the heaven embassy without me? Emily: (Hand fidgeting) W-well, you have a busy day, and I know you're not big on the Sera thing.. Velvette: It's still the heaven embassy! Sera let you fall, remember? Plus, I don't think you should be out on your own! Emily: (Pouty face) Ugh.. You worry too much! You know I've gotta fight for the redemption case! C'mon, Vel! I can be on my own for one day! Velvette: You're still new to hell. I don't want you to get jumped! (Worried look) I'll get you an escort... Emily: Aww! I'll can handle it! (Clasps her hands together and does puppy dog eyes) C'mon Vellyyy.. Pweaaaase? (flutters eyes) Velvette: (Snickers and smiles softly) Aw.. How could I say no to a face that cute.. Emily: Mhm! That's why I use it! Velvette: (Stroking Emily's wings) Just try to stay out of trouble, Baby Dove. Emily: (Weak kneed and smiling) Velvette! Stop! (Playfully pushes her away) Velvette: Noooo! (Spin-hug) Vox: (Walks in on them being silly cuties) Velvette: Do you mind? We're trying to have an unemotional bang sesh here! Emily: (Practicing what she and Velvette had rehearsed in a situation such as this) Yeah.. C-cuz we're so NOT in love! Vox: Yeah, okay. I don't actually care. (Pulls out phone to spy on Alastor and walks out of the room) (There was a pause as Vox closed the door) Emily: Phew! That was close!

AGHHHH THE SILLIES

[undercovergamer]

❤️Revenge of a Raven❤️

⚠️This fic focuses mainly on tickling. Please do not read it if that upsets you.⚠️

Ittosara content by yours truly! If Sara is out of character, please let me know. I’ve never written her before-

Summary: Basically Itto and Sara are wrestling in an act of play-fighting because Itto is hyperactive and bored and Sara could use some practice.

⚠️TW/CW: non consensual tickles at first, but it doesn’t last long and boundaries are set as an important lesson.⚠️

I wanted to explore the topic and I don’t have the language to explain why (sorry).

Itto tries to tickle Sara because he wants to see her beautiful smile. But it turns out she hates being tickled and gets upset instead, resulting in *him* being on the receiving end. That’s when she finds out the punishment is meaningless since he’s having fun. In the end he apologizes and she forgives him, but continues tickling him until he’s had enough because he’s a cutie.

Word Count: 3360

It’s strange how times can change, isn’t it? That’s what Kujou Sara was thinking anyway. Who would’ve guessed she’d end up loving Arataki Itto of all yōkai? It was almost unbelieveable to her, and yet there she was, sharing a home with this lovable dork. They had been dating for some time now, starting a while after Sara had finally agreed to that street sumo match. It turned out Itto was a great partner, both in love and in sparring. Today was no different, as the energetic oni had initiated a playfight.

“This time I’ll win for sure!” Itto boasted with a confident grin on his face, playfully wrestling his badass girlfriend. He loved her to bits, which showed in his smile.

“Hmph. Don’t get too cocky.” Sara muttered with a smirk. She was usually the one winning their playfights thanks to her speed and precision.

“Just you wait! This time, I’ve got new tricks up my sleeves!” Itto taunted, looking full of mischievous.

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try.” Sara replied, challenging him.

“Oh, I will!” And try he did, managing to spin her around and hook his arms under hers in an attempt to win, holding her in place.

“Hngh…! Damn it…” she muttered, realizing he was too strong to pull away from. Well, she could probably just throw him, but this was a playfight, not a serious one.

“Heheheh! Looks like I’ve got the upper hand!” he taunted, holding her relatively tight.

“Hmph! Just you wait, I’m not surrendering yet!” Sara said with a serious tone, planning her next move.

“Well good luck getting out then, lil’ birdie~ hahahahaha!” Ugh, that teasing oni. Someone ought to shut him up to put him in his place, Sara thought. Then, she got an idea.

“Heh. You’re not the only one with tricks, oni.” Sara said with a smug smirk. The way Itto held her wasn’t too tight, and she had gained enough room from the struggle to summon her wings.

“Wha- you gonna fly? Indoors??” Itto questioned, soon realizing his fate was sealed. He’d made a crucial error of fashion choice today, as this was the wrong time to not wear a shirt.

“Not exactly~” Sara replied, quickly fluttering her feathery wings up against Itto’s torso, aiming to tickle her way out of his grip.

“Pfft~ ahahAAH!! Heh- eek! Ahahahaha!! Thahahat’s cheheheating!!” Itto protested and jumped slightly, immediately losing focus. He wasn’t expecting it to tickle so bad, giggling frantically already.

“Cheating? That’s too bad…” Sara replied, keeping up the ticklish wing flaps until the oni was weak enough to escape from. She didn’t try to break free right away though. In truth, she loved hearing that silly laughter, especially when it was confused and flustered sounding like this. Those squirms, snickers and surprised squeaks made her heart skip a beat. Who knew such a rambunctious oni could be so cute?

“Pssh~ heheheheheheh!! Stahahahahap~!” Itto whined, too stubborn to let himself lose in such an embarrassing way.

“Let me go and I might~” she teased, reaching back to tickle his neck with her fingers too, adding to the temporary torment.

“Eek!! Heheheheheh!! Gah, fihihine!!” Itto released Sara and covered himself with his arms, stepping away from those wings of hers. She turned around to face him with a mischievous smirk.

“Hmph, what’s wrong? Giving up that easily, are we?” Sara teased, wiggling her fingers towards him to tease.

“Pfft- don’t even think about it! Just wait til I- whoa!” Itto stepped back nervously, but tripped himself as he’d accidentally walked backwards into the bed and lost balance.

“Watch your six.” Sara teased with a soft laugh, dismissing her wings and taking a seat next to her boyfriend.

“Hey, c’mon! What’s so funny? You smug little-…” Itto asked, trying not to get too distracted by the smile on his girlfriend’s face. She looked so happy and carefree… so beautiful…

“Hahaha…! Looks like I win again, hm?” Sara said, smiling softly and stroked Itto’s cheek. She chuckled to herself, melting his heart. “Heh… it’s crazy how we ended up here like this, isn’t it?” she asked, admiring the oni’s rosy blush.

“Mhm… heheh, I feel like I’m the luckiest guy in the world~!” he said, pulling her down into his arms and hugging her tight.

“Hey! Haha..!” Sara let out a soft laugh, making Itto feel warm.

“I get to have the coolest, most badass girlfriend ever! All to myself~! Hahaha!” Gosh, that sweetheart…

“Pfft, let me go, you brute..!” Sara couldn’t stop smiling, lightly struggling against the other’s grip.

“Aw~ is the little birdie shy~?” Itto teased, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

“Don’t call me that…” Sara muttered, still embarrassed by such a nickname.

“Why not~? It suits you…” Itto said, easing up on his tight hug and switching to a gentler snuggle. Sara sighed and let herself relax, not saying another word as she cuddled closer to the oni.

Ah, what a cozy time. The sun shining in through the blinds, softly lighting up the room as the lovers enjoyed each other’s warmth. They could stay like this for the rest of the day if they wanted to. It was so quiet and nice. Itto held Sara close, his arms wrapped around her waist and her head resting against his shoulder. It felt like heaven to snuggle up with the love of her life. Sara was still surprised by how such a boisterous oni could be so relaxed and gentle. It truly warmed her heart…

“Hmm… so, are we napping now or…?” Itto asked, keeping his voice down in case she felt sleepy.

“Hm… not yet, sweetheart… Let’s just enjoy the moment…” she replied, indeed sounding sleepy as she closed her eyes. So cute…

“Mhm…” Itto agreed, letting out a satisfied sigh as he relaxed with her. All was well and soft until Sara started to get tense.

“Ah… h-hey, d-don’t do that…”

“Hm? What’s wrong?”

“Hmph… your hand…” Itto had been absentmindedly tracing her side with his nails, most likely in an attempt to do so on her back.

“Yeah…?” He didn’t notice it at first, but moved the hand to her back instead anyway. “Sorry~” Itto didn’t think much of it, keeping his tracings to Sara’s back for a relaxing sensation. The cuddles resumed in soft silence, until a surprised squeak came out of the woman.

“Eep! Itto…!” His hand had slipped down to her waist on accident.

“Huh?” That’s when it clicked. “What was that noise~?” Itto teased, amused by the sound his usually stoic girlfriend had made.

“Erm- ahem… It’s nothing, really. It-... it just felt weird.” Sara said, trying to sound serious despite her nervousness.

“Heheheh! Are you sure~?” Itto didn’t fall for her act though, giving a quick scribble to her waist.

“Eep! Don’t do that!” Sara protested, unable to keep herself from smiling.

“Whaaat? I’m not doing anything~” Itto taunted, chuckling to himself as his tracing slowly approached her side, making her tense.

“Pfft~…! I-Itto…!” Sara gritted her teeth.

“You’re ticklish? That’s so cute!” Itto said, smiling with love as he discovered this adorable trait.

“Sh-Shut it..!” Sara bit her lip, swatting at his hand in protest while trying not to laugh.

“Aw~ c’mon. Lemme see that smile!” Itto teased lovingly, poking at her sides.

“N-No, I- pfft-!” Sara covered her mouth, but didn’t stand a chance once she felt those pokes turn into scribbles. “Tickle tickle tickle~”

“Ihihittohohoho!! Gehehet awahahay!!” She couldn’t stand his teasing, pushing his hands away to prevent the tickling.

“Hehehe! Your laugh is so cute!” Itto didn’t seem to get the hint…

“Stohohop! Thihis is embarrassing!!”

“But we’re the only ones here! No one will know~ I promise I won’t tell!”

“Hahaha…! I said stop!!” Sara’s vision activated, zapping the oni and causing him to let go. “Ack- ow!! What are y-?!” She pinned him down before he could protest, glaring daggers into him before speaking up.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?!” she scolded angrily, a piercing gaze that sent shivers down Itto’s spine.

“I-I was just playing! C-Calm down..!” He stuttered, fearing the intimidating expression on his girlfriend’s face. He’d seen it before, but not like this.

“I told you to stop! I hate being tickled!” She replied, feeling betrayed by his ignorance.

“I-I’m sorry! I-I didn’t know..! I- I was just-…!” Itto trailed off as he saw the pain in her eyes. He felt the guilt in his chest upon realizing what he’d done. “I-… I’m sorry…”

Sara sighed, noticing the regret in Itto’s expression. She could tell he didn’t mean any harm, but this wasn’t the first time his excitement had overstepped a boundary. Her grip on him loosened.

“Sara…” Itto spoke up, feeling worried by the silence. “I’m really sorry… I won’t ever do that again!” To his credit, he always took said boundaries very seriously after the fact. He’d always do everything in his power to not make the same mistake again…

After another moment of silence, Sara sighed and spoke up after her mind cleared. “Hm… fine. I’ll forgive you this time.” she said, choosing to trust Itto. She gave him a friendly smile and stroked his cheek. “R-Really…? You’re not mad?” He was surprised, not expecting to have been forgiven so easily.

“Well… I’m not *as* angry anymore, but… I can’t let you off the hook just yet.” Sara said, giving him a small glare. Itto needed to be taught a lesson, and she already knew how. He gulped nervously. “W-What do you mean…?” he asked.

“Hm… well~ I think someone here deserves a punishment for being so mean earlier.” Sara said, a playful look on her face, but a menacing look in her eyes. Itto was still clueless about her intentions though. “Huh…?” He seemed a little spooked.

Sara sighed affectionately, finding his confused expression adorable as always. “Oh, relax. I’m not gonna hurt you, you silly oni. I’m just gonna give you a taste of your own medicine.” she said with a mischievous expression, lightly stroking his cheek to help him feel safer. “W-Wait, what?” Itto was now nervous instead, understanding the threat.

“Let’s see how you like it!” Sara smirked and started tickling Itto, assuming it wouldn’t harm him since they had fun with it during their playfight.

“AAH! WAHAHAHAHAIT!!” Archons, those nails… The way they scribbled across his torso tickled him like crazy already!

“Oh? You’re ticklish, huh? Predictable.” She teased, despite knowing full well already.

“Shuhuhut ihihihit-!! Ahahahahahaha!!” He’d managed to calm his laughter a bit after the initial strike, realizing it wasn’t so bad.

“Well, that’s awfully rude, isn’t it?” She purposely targeted his weaker spots, tickling all around his midriff at a faster pace. “Is that really how you should speak to your girlfriend~?”

“EEK! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! NOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHA!!” Itto threw his head back and laughed loudly, kicking his legs against the bed.

“Tickle tickle tickle~” Ah, who knew vengance was so much fun? The way Itto laughed, the way he squirmed, the way he smiled and blushed so much; it was all so precious and adorable to Sara. But, after a little more of this so-called torture, she showed mercy and stopped tickling the oni.

“See what I mean? It’s not so fun when you’re on the receiving end, is it?” She questioned, hoping to have taught him a valuable lesson.

“Ahahehe… hehe… I- heheh..! It is~, a-actually..!” Itto admitted, still smiling at Sara as he caught his breath.

“… what?” Certainly not the response she expected, but she wasn’t too surprised.

Itto blushed, feeling a little embarrassed to have admitted such a thing. “Eheh… I- uh…”

“You like getting tickled?” Of course, Sara was expecting him to be silly enough for this…

“Aha, y-yeah..! I kinda thought you did too, for some reason…” It was all making sense now. “I just… I thought it’d be fun! Y’know? I thought we could, like… bond or something, ‘n’ have fun like that, but…” Itto felt a bit embarrassed with his own logic, even though his intentions were harmless. He facepalmed before saying “Ah, I should’ve known better! I should’ve asked first at least, I-… I’m really really sorry…” He felt so stupid for not considering Sara’s feelings. What if she was still mad? What if she felt violated? What if she-?

“Itto…”

“Y-Yeah..?” His anxiety was through the roof until she spoke again, her hand on his cheek for comfort.

“It’s… it’s fine, I forgive you. Just promise me to not do it again, okay? I… I know you didn’t mean any harm.” She understood his intentions. He didn’t tickle her for his own amusement, he did it for her thinking she’d have fun. Of course it didn’t excuse his actions; it merely explained them.

“Besides, you already apologized earlier. I forgive you, okay?” Sara stroked his cheeks and leaned down to kiss his forehead.

Itto sighed with relief. “Oh, dude, I was scared for a moment there…! Eheh… thanks for forgiving me.” he said, rubbing his eyes, totally not wiping any tears that spawned from his little emotional rollercoaster.

“Hehe, it’s alright, Itto. You silly oni…” Sara found him endearing regardless, ruffling his hair a little bit as she ran her fingers through it. Their love really was powerful.

“Heh…” Itto smiled, grateful for her comfort. “I- I won’t do it again… I swear on my life.” he said, his serious tone making Sara laugh.

After a moment of fond silence between the two, Sara spoke up with a teasing tone. “So… you like tickles, huh~?”

“Ahah- eh-… w-well, I mean-.. uh…! I never say I hated it…!” Itto stuttered nervously, blushing like a cherry from the topic alone. He knew what was coming…

“Mhm.” Sara noticed some restless movements from her boyfriend, raising an eyebrow with a playful smirk. “You want some more? I’ve got plenty of tickles left just for you~…” she teased, wiggling her fingers at him.

“Jfhhdhd…! Don’t say it like that…!” Itto hid his face in his hands, dying of embarrassment.

“Yes or no, darling…?” Sara asked with a silly voice, thoroughly enjoying the exchange.

“… y-… yes…?” Itto replied shyly, nervously peeking at her from behind his hands. Sara felt like she’d been shot by Cupid’s arrow, seeing that adorably shy expression on the otherwise “tough” oni’s face. “Tch… you adorable dork. Hold still.”

“Wha- pff- Heheheh-! ACK- GWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Itto’s laughter returned the moment Sara started tickling him again, scribbling her tickly nails all over his ribs and sides. She thought to herself, is he actually enjoying this? It was hard to believe he’d be having fun, given how unpleasant tickling could be.

She observed his expression, noticing how happy he looked. She was one to notice little details like that… the way his face and his laughter were full of joy rather than discomfort… It was both confusing and adorable to witness. She loved him so much…

“Hm~… are you alright, darling?” Sara paused her tickles to admire his flushed smile and let him catch his breath.

“Eheh… heh… huff… m-man..! Why’d you stop..?” Itto asked shyly, looking all cute and silly. Sara’s heart melted in an instant. She didn’t say anything before tickling him more, making him laugh a lot again.

“Ugh… you’re too damn cute!” She growled, having cute aggression upon him and tickling his neck.

“Pfft~!! Ehehehee~! I’m nohohohot!” Itto protested through his giggles, playfully pushing her hands away.

“You are~! Gosh I could just squish you to death~” Sara teased, pausing to kiss his cheeks before squeezing his sides rapidly.

“ACK-!! Ahahahahahahaha!! Shuhut uhuhuhuhup!!”

“Oh? Watch your tone, mister!” Sara scolded, tickling him all over his midriff again, since that whole area made him laugh more.

“BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Itto was having so much fun, getting tickled silly by the love of his life. It was a dream he didn’t know he had coming true, and he was having the time of his life.

“Say you’re sorry!” Sara demanded playfully. It felt nice to have power over him…

“PFFT~ NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Itto shook his head, refusing to give up, but Sara stopped anyway to give him a break.

“Oh? You sure you wanna keep that attitude~?”

“Aheh… hah..! Heheh…! Whuh…?” Itto froze, eyes widening as Sara’s free hand held one of her own feathers. It must’ve fallen from her wings during their little tussle earlier. “W-Wait a sec-..! D-Don’t you dare!” he squirmed nervously, giggling as her hand inched closer. She had yet to get off of him though, so he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Say you’re sorry~” Sara teased, using the feather to target his ears, making him swear and giggle his head off. “Shihihihihit!!”

“Watch your language~” Sara teased, tickling under his chin with her other hand to tease him, switching from ear to ear with the feather.

“SHUT UP!! Pfft~ hehehehe-! Fuhuhuhahahahack!! Nahahat the ears~!!” He wasn’t expecting to be so sensitive to that damn thing. It tickled worse than anything he’d ever felt! …well, not really, probably. It was hard to tell.

“Tickle tickle tickle~ Say you’re sorry~” Sara teased in that dreadful sing-song voice, switching to tickle both of his ears at the same time, the mixed sensation driving him crazy.

“EEK!! N-Hahahahahahaha!! STAAHP!! I’m sohohorrehehEHEHEE!!” Itto squealed, reaching his limit at this point.

“Yeah, you better be!” Sara responded, her tickles slowing down and coming to a stop, her hands resting on his shoulders.

“Ahaha.. hehehe…! *hic* hahahaha..! N-No more…!” Itto stuttered, giddy with giggles as he slowly calmed down.

Sara sighed fondly, stroking the oni’s hair. “Oh, Itto… what am I going to do with you…?” She was so in love… he looked beautiful like this, all red and silly…

“Eheh… heh… *hic*…”

“Awh… you okay, baby? I’m sorry if I went too far…”

“Hehe~… I’m-… I’m okay…!” Itto managed to catch his breath fully after a while, letting himself relax knowing the game was done.

“Hm.. you look tired. Why don’t we call it quits here and take a nap?” Sara suggested, cupping Itto’s face in her hands.

“Heh~… I’d like that… you owe me a kiss though…”

“A kiss? Hm… I can do better.” Sara teased, tender love in her smile as she leaned down to kiss Itto, planting gentle and loving smooches all over his face.

“Mmf~ hehehe! Hey~!” Itto protested half-heartedly, giggling softly as he felt flustered.

“Hush, pretty boy. Your face is my canvas~” Sara teased, kissing him some more.

“Hehehe! No it’s not~!” Itto giggled as he was kissed silly, half-heartedly complaining even though he loved the attention.

“It is~ You adorable dork!” Sara gently squished his face with her hands in the name of cute aggression before her touch became gentler. As she admired his lipstick covered face, she couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“Staahp…! It’s not funny~” Itto protested, giggling along with her laughter.

“Hahahaha~! Oh, you’re the cutest thing ever…” She chuckled, thinking to herself: “Gods, I wouldn’t be caught dead saying that a year ago. Time really flies.”

“You’re so mean! Heheh…!” Itto protested.

“Haha~ oh come on…” Sara rolled her eyes before she lightly moved off of Itto, reaching into her bedside table for a wet wipe. She kept a few there just in case. “Let me clean that off. Your face is a mess~” she teased, smiling at him.

“H-Heh… go ahead, princess~” Itto teased lightly, absolutely smitten by her. She gently held his chin, guiding him to tilt his head in certain ways as she wiped the kisses away. Lipstick, as the name suggests, goes on the lips, not the face like that. It’s not like such a small layer would do any harm of course, but… it couldn’t hurt to be careful.

The tender love and care didn’t stop there, though. After she was done wiping his face clean and tossing away the trash, the two switched their positions to get comfier in the bed, snuggling up to one another. Sara’s nails traced gently across Itto’s back, soothing him to sleep. The result wasn’t entirely intended, but he did need the rest regardless.

She’d totally wake him up with that feather later. Just… on his back instead so that he wouldn’t die.

[magokou]

One more post for tonight before I sleep… my javi plush came!! :D

Look at that cutie patootie.. the wife and husband on my bed waow

(My mom said he’s ugly 💔 but she doesn’t get it 🚬)

Okay off topic I want that javier figurine from that monsters university slimy figurine (pic below)

but I cannot find it sadly 💔 oh well I guess I’ll make it myself.. I have some clay so in my free time I might make a clay figure!! but painting it will be hard cause when I did a clay figure the paint cracks 👎 (I wish I could make a shrine for him but i don’t have my own room 🥀🪫) but then I also realized I can literally make keychains of him and I have the material for it too so heheheh

I really love his hands they’re so cute to me I just wanna hold and feel them and his teeth ghfdn his teeth are so attractive to me (I think I like sharp teeth wow) and the way he could go inside to his shell (or exoskeleton I think is the name?) it’s just so adorable omh I wanna kiss him all over AND HIS EYES AND ANTENNAE AA precious and the spikes on his legs and face area are so fun to doodle when I’m bored in class

Okay enough of my rambles