#Torque Classes

[sentient-rift]

I meant kiss, kiss under the love potion.

"..."

"S-Solo...?"

"...10 ...9 ...8..."

"Oh, no! He's counting down again! EVERYBODY, RUN FOR IT!!"

The entire team present in that area ran away at incredible speed.

"3... 2... 1... ROGUE CROSSROAD BREAK!!!!"

The Lone Rogue of Mu slammed his sword to the ground, causing a powerful explosion that covered the entire area. It was a good thing the rest of the team ran off before they could get caught in it.

"Hear me well, Super Sentai Fan... Next time you suggest I kiss Luna... Or anyone for that matter... I WON'T be counting down on my next attack!"

"Please... For everyone's sake, don't ever suggest kissing to Solo again..."

[digitaldiseas3]

i hate physics so goddamn much i can’t wait for this class to be over

[sw5w]

Battle Droids Flee the Explosion

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 02:02:54

[static-void]

I need to watch animation vs physics again tbh. and maybe the math one too

they're both interesting bc they start off on very basic premises. the physics one slightly less so bc the amount of fucking. Information in physics is A Lot. But yknow it's still pretty much on a starting note

and then more concepts get introduced in a way that like. That Makes Sense a lot longer even if you aren't necessarily sure of the mechanics surrounding it

[idalenn]

Glamtober #17 - Summer

Glam details below cut:

Class: Any Class (Minimum level 60) Head: Endless Summer Glasses Body: Summer Indigo Shirt (Wine Red Dye) Hands: Summer Sunset Wrist Torques Legs: Sailor Brais (Turquoise Blue Dye) Feet: Summer Sunset Sandals Earring: Primal Earrings of Healing Necklace: Augmented Shire Custodian's Choker Wrist: The Emperor's New Bracelet Ring #1: Dragonskin Ring

[tj-dragonblade]

[Fic] With Every Nerve Alive

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: E Word Count: 4623 Tags: Human AU, Mechanic Hob, Rich Guy Dream, brief appearance by Matthew, Dream of the Endless is a Horny Little Weasel, class dynamics, as a kink perhaps, sweat is sexy, so is automotive grease apparently, scent kink, detailed sexual fantasies, Dream of the Endless is intense and unhinged, questionable lube choices, within a fantasy don't worry, no one's really getting fingered with engine grease, sugar daddy-sugar baby fantasies, glass sex toys

Notes: Prequel/bookend to Customer Service. I realized that Hot Mechanic Hob needed Dream's pov to get the full effect, so this happened. Also fills my @dreamlingbingo square C1, 'Sugar Baby', a couple thousand words in. Title taken from Turbo Lover by Judas Priest

Summary: Dream Atelíotes is merely seeking car repairs from a reputable shop; he was not expecting to get punched in the libido by the most beautiful mechanic he could have imagined.

On AO3

~ "Alright, and what're we lookin' at her for?"

"The clutch. Is not operating as expected; I fear I may have damaged it. Somehow."

Dream is grateful that the stout American behind the counter at Matthew's Motor Repairs does not pass any obvious judgement on this damning statement.

"Well, that definitely needs checking, then," he says instead, punching in notes on his computer terminal. "Hob'll be runnin' things for the next couple of weeks, lemme see when he can fit your girl in." He turns toward the half-open door that leads to the garage and yells.

"Hey Hob!"

"Yeah! Just a tic—"

"He'll definitely be able to find the problem and fix you up," the American is saying, but Dream pays him little mind, thinking ahead to schedules and obligations; the Porsche is not his primary means of transportation regardless. It had been a gift from Alex that he'd kept after the breakup, primarily out of spite. He will say, when asked, that he drives it for fun, but truthfully the manual transmission does not come easily to him and the car suffers for it. He is considering selling it, perhaps once the satisfaction of knowing how Alex seethes to see him with it has worn down—

"What's up?"

Dream spares a glance for the man who's just entered through the doorway to the garage, and promptly loses his breath.

—Exquisite—

The man is beautiful, average height and slim sturdy build, dressed in grimy coveralls that are split just enough at the zip to glimpse the collar of a plain white tee beneath. There is a sheen of sweat on his forehead and when he wipes at it, still with a wrench in hand, he leaves a faint smudge of black grease behind. His hair is dark, longish, tied up in a messy bun on the back of his head with wisps straying loose about his face attractively. His eyes and his smile are warm, strong nose and chin, a few days' worth of beard growth giving him a wonderfully soft-rugged cast that sets Dream's mouth to watering.

The coverall sleeves are rolled and twisted up to his elbows; the forearms exposed are liberally covered with dark hair, skin a warm sunkissed golden brown beneath, shapely and corded with the strength that comes of manual labor, of hefting tires and torquing wrenches. Dream considers, quite despite himself, how those hands might fit around his waist, his hips; how easily this man might lift or manhandle him about in bed, and the heat that has risen in his loins stirs approvingly.

"Mr. Atelíotes here's got clutch troubles with his Porsche," the American is saying. "Think you'll have time to check it out?"

"Not right away, I'm afraid. How soon would you be needing her back?" the mechanic asks, directly to Dream, and oh, the full focus of that gaze is divine.

"I am in no hurry," he manages to reply, voice only marginally dipping down toward sultry. He is here to see about car repairs, not to flirt with the hot mechanic in front of an audience. He is an adult. He is well-versed in exercising all manner of self control.

The mechanic smiles, like a ray of sunshine, and Dream's self-control is tested.

"Okay then, I can probably get you looked at and fixed up toward the end of next week, if that works for you? Thursday or Friday, let's say." He slips the wrench that he's still holding into a pocket on his coveralls, drawing Dream's attention to the lower half of his body, how the zipper on the coveralls goes all the way down underneath, and he firmly corrals and muzzles the thoughts that arise. Later. Let him finish his business here before he embarrasses himself.

"Next week is just fine," he agrees.

"Excellent," the mechanic says, beaming brightly, and Dream's mouth goes dry.

He is so unfairly beautiful.

The mechanic is talking now to the American who is entering Dream's work order and Dream drinks in the sight of him greedily, committing every detail to memory—the brush of silver at his temples, the crows' feet blooming at the corners of his eyes with every smile, the dimple in his chin just visible as a darkening of the scruff that adorns his jaw so beautifully. His arm flexes prettily as he points to the screen with a black-stained fingertip and his voice is strong yet soft and warm like honey; Dream sneaks a glance at his backside when he turns to the printer and finds the suggestion of shapeliness beneath the loose fit of the coveralls. Dream imagines, helplessly, buttocks and strong thighs covered in hair to match those exposed forearms, and barely stifles a whimper.

This man is absolutely exquisite, and Dream wants him.

Badly.

"Alright, Mr. Atelíotes, let me get your signature here," the mechanic says cheerfully, oblivious to the tempest he has stirred within Dream as he hands him the printed work order and a pen.

Dream makes certain that their fingers brush as he takes it, noting the smudge of fingerprints left on the paper by the other.

He glances at the mechanic's name on the form as he signs. Hob Gadling. He tucks the name safely into the vault of his mind, hoarding it for later use.

"Give me a call on Thursday next week, we'll see where we're at," Hob Gadling is saying, handing him a business card and leaving another grey-black thumbprint on the corner of the white cardstock. Dream immediately thinks of such fingerprints against the pristine paleness of his own skin and swallows thickly.

"Thursday," he repeats. "I will call then, thank you." It is Monday, currently; a week and a half is quite reasonable for routine car repairs in a reputable shop, he is given to understand, and Matthew's Motor Repairs is consistently rated with four and five stars online. He is confident that he has chosen well, especially when Hob Gadling smiles brightly while bidding him good day.

It is a good day indeed, for having met such a stunningly beautiful man.

~

He takes a cab home to Kensington, trying very hard to put his thoughts in order and focus on the week ahead, on his business meetings and the client proposal he's expecting on Friday. But his mind is full of brown eyes and warm smiles, hairy forearms and grease-stained hands, and his entire body finds these thoughts far more appealing than those of his day-to-day mundanities.

Hob Gadling lingers in his mind persistently, a siren call warming his blood and distracting him at the slightest provocation. Late afternoon finds him abandoning his office and retreating to his rooms, surrendering to the thoughts that have plagued him since his visit to Matthew's Motor Repairs this morning.

Hob Gadling—

He imagines how the smell of the shop might cling to the man, oils and gasoline and the sweat of his labor, intoxicating and inviting should Dream nuzzle in close. He imagines those hands with their black-stained fingertips, their work-roughened texture, sliding over his body. How might they feel against his skin, his chest, his thighs? On his tongue? He imagines the hungry light that might fill Hob Gadling's eyes, if Dream were to take those skilled fingers into his mouth and hold his gaze while sucking on them, tonguing lovingly at every crack and callous. He imagines those fingers dark all over with a thick layer of fresh grease, the mechanic holding them up with a smirk like a promise, turning Dream to lay on the bonnet of his car—or perhaps bending him over a stack of tires there in the garage, yes—and pushing those fingers inside him, deep and insistent and perfect while his other hand holds Dream down at the small of his back. Automotive lubricant is perhaps not sanitary or otherwise suitable for sexual use, but the heat-of-the-moment urgency of the idea appeals all the same.

He groans aloud at the thought of being fingered with the thick warm grease, the slide and drag and the way Hob Gadling's fingers would curve and press exactly right until Dream was shaking apart with pleasure, scrabbling at the rubber tread of the tires he's bent over. He imagines Hob Gadling murmuring complimentary filth above him—"You look so pretty with my fingers up your arse; bet you'd look even prettier speared on my prick"—as he comes and comes and comes.

Of course he wishes to have the mechanic's cock as well. He is certain it is full and glorious, a beautiful specimen that would fill him perfectly, touch every sweet spot within him and set him alight. He wants it in his hands, in his mouth, in his arse; he wants it any way he can have it.

He desperately wants to get fucked by Hob Gadling in his garage amongst his work, by Hob Gadling strong and sweaty and dirty in his element, vigorous and virile.

The car would perhaps be most comfortable for lying on his back, the better to see Hob Gadling's gorgeous face while taking his cock. He himself would be stark naked and the mechanic still in his coveralls, unzipped all the way to let his prick out. Dream imagines him naked beneath the grimy clothing; Dream envisions chest hair to match what was seen on his gorgeous arms. Dream imagines those arms sliding up along the bonnet beside him, bringing his legs with them until Dream is nearly folded double and breathless with the sweet pressure of the mechanic's dick inside him, pistoning deep and perfect.

Would Hob Gadling pick him up, like so much inventory to be moved about the shop? Would Hob Gadling fuck him standing upright, holding him as if he weighed nothing? He fantasizes about the strength in those forearms and biceps, of the way they would flex and hold, Dream's knees hooked in his elbows and those broad hands gripping his hips as the mechanic would bounce Dream up and down on his prick, Dream clinging around his neck and jack-knifed beautifully in his powerful arms.

He comes at the thought, face down on his knees in his bed with a toy vibrating steadily against his prostate as he strokes himself over the edge, and the orgasm is so intense that he loses all sense of space and time for a moment. The toy is still buzzing merrily when he comes back to himself and he fumbles for the remote beside him, turning it off without yet removing it. He rolls over, brings his messy hand to his face and licks. He wonders what difference he might taste between Hob Gadling and himself, imagines that he is licking Hob Gadling's spend from his hand instead of his own, imagines how those dark eyes and that lovely mouth would smile to see him do so, slow and lascivious.

He turns the toy back on.

His fantasies continue as the days progress. He imagines taking Hob Gadling into his mouth, tasting the sweat and the musk of him after working all day in the garage; he imagines lavishing his tongue all over the length of him, sucking and swallowing and milking him dry. He imagines Hob Gadling's work-roughened hands in his hair, combing through it, clenching tight as he spends into Dream's eager mouth.

He imagines Hob Gadling on his back on the low wheeled board that mechanics use for sliding beneath cars—he does not know its proper name, but he imagines opening Hob Gadling's coveralls while he is laid out on this board and riding him like a prize stallion there on the shop floor with the scent of his work and his sweat all around. He imagines the blackened smears Hob Gadling's hands might leave on him, on his hips, his waist, his arse.

He imagines Hob Gadling bending him over the bonnet of his Porsche, fucking him hard and fast and absolutely without mercy until he is screaming his pleasure, until he is so loud that the mechanic will cover his mouth to muffle the noise and simply fuck him harder still. He wants it, aches for it, imagines Hob Gadling's hands planted firm on his arse, squeezing, spreading him open for his pounding cock, leaving dirty smudges on both cheeks as they careen into orgasm together—

Dream comes under the warm cascade of his own rainfall shower, one hand braced against the sleek tiles while the other grips his pulsing cock tightly. He draws great gasping breaths of the humid air, mind barreling on even as his climax peaks and begins to subside. His mechanic in the shower with him after all of that, sudsy and slippery-wet beneath the spray, shedding the grease and grime of his workplace; his mechanic, pulling him in for a kiss, smelling now of soap more than sweat. The idea appeals, on more than one level, and will not be dislodged even as he dries and dresses for bed. He falls asleep at last to the thought of a scrubbed-clean Hob Gadling on his knees beneath the gently-pouring water, freshly-shampooed hair swept sleek and dripping back from his face and his smiling mouth wrapped around Dream's cock.

He wakes to the sun streaming in his window and lies alone in his spacious bed with drowsy thoughts of being kissed awake, of Hob Gadling's stubbled face and warm lips nuzzling against his cheek, of calloused hands with black-stained nailbeds petting down his sides and grasping his hips. Of Hob Gadling's strong shapely arms pulling him close, Hob Gadling's chest hair tickling his nose, Hob Gadling's heartbeat strong and steady beneath his ear.

He thinks of Hob Gadling following him about the kitchen as he fixes breakfast, imagines his mechanic in a borrowed robe that hits him mid-thigh and doesn't quite close over his chest. He does not currently own such a robe, but that does not matter to the fantasy. He imagines Hob Gadling draped warmly over his back in this too-small robe while he cooks, nuzzling kisses into the nape of his neck, purring about how he wants Dream for breakfast while dragging his calloused fingertips up the insides of Dream's bare thighs. Because of course Dream has merely thrown on a long shirt to cook for his lover, and of course his mechanic cannot keep his hands to himself, and of course Dream would like to be fucked over the kitchen worktop before breakfast.

It is a daring fantasy, this stranger in his home, infusing sex and affection into his daily routines, and Dream wants it with an intensity that is frightening.

He spins himself broader fantasies as the days become a week, of showing up to his mother's summer gala with Hob Gadling on his arm, a mere mechanic brought to an Atelíotes event. He dreams of engaging in increasingly indecent public displays with him where all the high society patrons would see, embarassing Mummy Dearest and igniting gossip that would haunt her for years. He would reward Hob Gadling handsomely for his part in the scandal, sexually, financially, both if he should like. Or perhaps he might offer Hob Gadling gifts and incentives without petty family business mixed in, lavish rewards simply for his affections and sexual attentions. The term 'sugar baby' is very much in line with his thoughts, if not entirely accurate; he is only forty himself and his mechanic had appeared to be in his mid-thirties at least. But that feeds into his story; Hob Gadling is well into adulthood and working in trade labor. Perhaps he never had the chance to go to university; perhaps he had grown up poor. Perhaps he might like to undertake a course of study now, if Dream were to offer to pay for such a thing, in thanks for how well-fucked his mechanic would keep him?

Perhaps he might gift Hob Gadling a luxury car like his Porsche, in return for the sexual services he should like to be provided. Perhaps he might buy him tailored suits, expensive clothes in the latest fashions. He is undeniably drawn to the grimy working-class vision that had been branded on his memory when dropping off his car, sweaty and grease-smeared and glowing with life, but he also imagines how stunning his mechanic might look cleaned up and dressed to the nines. Dream would like to wine and dine him at the finest restaurants in London, put him into a limousine after, open his perfectly-tailored trousers and sample his cock on the drive home. To Dream's home, of course, where he would take Hob Gadling to bed and offer up his body for his mechanic's use—which would be delightfully merciless, given how Dream had primed and teased and denied him with his mouth in the car.

Perhaps he might take Hob Gadling away with him on holiday, show him all manner of foreign destinations he would never have seen on his own; at each of them Hob Gadling would fuck him, in sumptuous hotel beds or private beach cabanas or the gleaming toilet stalls of michelin-starred restaurants, with every bit of skill and enthusiasm at his disposal—delighted to be Dream's kept man and eager to show his gratitude for all that Dream could provide.

Dream groans, dragging one hand down across his mouth and arched throat while the other works swiftly over his cock, writhing on his bed with his shirt undone and his trousers open. He is achingly hard, leaking steadily into every rapid stroke; he hasn't even bothered undressing, so caught up in the feverish fantasies of the money and favors he might lavish on this man who consumes his thoughts, of how thoroughly he could expect to be railed and ravished and seen to in return—

Orgasm overtakes him quite suddenly, leaves him gasping and breathless and wrecked, and still he craves more. His fantasies are delectable, but his appetite is insatiable.

He desperately wants the real thing.

~

It is Thursday of the next week at last and Dream, fueled by his fading ability to recall the precise brown of Hob Gadling's eyes or the way his cheeks crease up when he smiles, does not call Matthew's Motor Repairs to check on the status of his Porsche as instructed. Instead, he drives out, excusing the trip to himself by visiting a local bookseller first and picking up several selections to add to his personal library. He does not linger overlong among the shelves, however; today he is consumed with much more pressing distractions.

He must see Hob Gadling again, if only for a moment.

When he enters the shop, there is no one at the counter up front and the door to the garage is ajar, raucous music drifting faintly through. "Hello?" he calls, but receives no reply.

It is a warm day outside and quite warm inside as well; Dream imagines how sweaty Hob Gadling must be, to be performing physical labor under these conditions. Such thoughts do nothing to calm or cool him.

After only a moment's hesitation, he rounds the counter and passes through the doorway, at which point he can hear Hob Gadling's voice singing along—"You don't have a clue/If you did you'd find yourself/Doin' the same thing too!"—beneath the music, passably on-key no less.

Yet another appealing feature to this man; it is simply unfair. Dream draws himself up, heart beating harder, and ventures around the large sink and cleanup station until he can see his Porsche, up on ramps, and—

And legs sticking out from beneath the side of it on one of those rolling boards, Hob Gadling's legs no doubt, spread wide like an invitation.

Dream stops abruptly, heat pouring into his belly; he takes a deep breath of the warm stuffy air, the machine-and-metal smell of the garage doing nothing to calm his libido. He stares, helplessly, at the work boots and coveralls, at where they stretch across Hob Gadling's crotch, affording frustratingly little suggestion of what lies beneath. And just above that, he can see that the coveralls are unzipped, not quite far enough to expose underwear but enough that Dream is treated to a glimpse of warm golden-brown belly and the dip of his navel, the dark sweep of hair above and below it.

—Mouthwatering—

It is with tremendous effort that Dream corrals his thoughts, steps forward again, closes the space between them and clears his throat to announce his presence. He nudges one booted foot with his own, not entirely meaning to do so but somehow unable to resist.

"Bloody—" The mechanic scoots out from beneath the car and Dream's knees go weak; he is grateful they do not give out altogether.

Hob Gadling is indeed shirtless beneath his open coveralls, displaying a chest far more gloriously hairy than Dream had imagined, a pelt thick and dark and alluring. He wants to touch, to comb his fingers through and rub his face against it, to lick the trail of hair that leads down to where the parted zipper comes back together. There is a visible sheen of sweat on his skin and Dream would lick that off as well; Hob is smudged with grease in various smears across his torso and forearms and Dream can hardly think for the rushing of blood in his ears, the swelling of want in the pit of his stomach. He drags his eyes back up to Hob's face, trying to school the ravenous hunger from his own gaze; he does not think he is overly successful in that regard but there is discernible heat in the warm brown eyes that meet him, and it is difficult to care about dignity, propriety, with reality unfolding so near to the fantasies that have carried him through the last ten days.

He stutters through some explanation for his presence, barely aware of his own words, barely registering the rundown he is given in return, watching hungrily as Hob climbs to his feet. His car will be finished tomorrow. He will have reason to see Hob again tomorrow. But right now he is unraveling, his self control a tenuous and threadbare thing barely within his grasp. He is watching Hob's mouth as he speaks, captivated, obsessed with the warm color of it flashing among the dark scruff of Hob's beard, and Dream wants to taste. His mouth, his skin, his cock, which is surely as magnificent as the rest of him—Dream cannot bear the thought of leaving without confirming his certainties, but it is one thing to revel in fantasy alone in his bed and quite another to actually act on it when faced with the man before him—

"Is there something else I can do for you today, Mr. Atelíotes?"

Hob Gadling is looking at him, hip cocked and coveralls alluringly open, smile just this side of invitational; there is the strong suggestion of interest and an implied offer in that warm tone and Dream's resolve, such as it is, crumbles.

He reaches. He touches. He speaks his want and follows with a flirtatious tease to mitigate his intensity, is met by teasing agreement in return, but when his mechanic mentions cleaning up first he absolutely cannot agree.

"No. As you are now, please." He steps closer, directly into Hob's space, a week and a half of fantasies clamoring in his mind as the scent of the man wafts into his nose—oil and grease, warm metal, sweat and a faint trace of citrus and a hint of some pleasantly masculine deodorant; Dream's mouth waters, and his prick throbs.

His mechanic hesitates. "I'm kind of filthy though?"

There is a tinge of shame beneath the words, and Dream. Will not have it.

"I am aware, yes," he purrs, seizing the open lapels of the grimy coveralls, and kisses Hob Gadling with ten days' worth of anticipation and want.

~

Dream is coasting on an adrenaline and endorphin high as he drives home, afterwards. He acted. He spoke directly of what he wanted. And he got it. He had spent ten days nursing fantasy and now he has experienced a delightful sliver of the reality of Hob Gadling.

And tomorrow, he will experience more.

Sleep does not come easily that night, keyed up and aroused as he is, but he manages at last. He wakes later than usual the next morning; he eats a light brunch, the excitement in his stomach counterproductive to the task, and makes sure to drink more water than usual. Thoughts of Hob fill his mind, arousing, distracting, enticing; he recalls with a sharp thrill the taste of Hob's pleasure on his tongue, and he is eager to be on his way to their appointment.

But there are things he must do to prepare, first.

He takes an enema, then shaves and showers, lathering everywhere with his sweetest-smelling soap, determined to be the polar opposite of what he lusts for in Hob. He strives for the cleanest prettiest and freshest he can get, the better to be taken and sullied and dirtied by his mechanic; Hob had seemed quite pleased with that dynamic yesterday and Dream is eager to repeat it with Hob's cock in his arse this time.

To that end, he employs a favorite dildo once he is clean and dry, lubing himself carefully and working himself open on the toy, mind blazing with thoughts of Hob all the while. He knows, now, the size and the shape (and the taste!) of Hob's prick, and he is giddy with the anticipation of having it inside him. He is salivating over how Hob compares to the dildo, how Hob will fill him just that much better, what filthy things Hob might say while taking his time over long slow thrusts, how good it will feel when Hob finally rails him without mercy—

He must force himself to stop, hard and panting as he withdraws the toy from his body. He sorts through his glass plugs quickly, finding the one he wants and fitting it carefully inside himself. It's broad enough to stretch him just a little more, perfectly flared to fit just right inside and out, short enough that he can bend and sit without discomfort. It's a beautiful tease, as a matter of fact, keeping him keyed up and aroused as he dresses himself, making him squirm just a little with every step as he gathers his condoms and his pocket-sized bottle of lube and his phone wallet and water, and leaves the house.

He composes himself over the two blocks he walks to the busier streets where he can hail a cab, steeling himself to normalcy in both movement and appearance while pleasure sings in his veins with every subtle shift of the toy within him. He is half-hard, hidden well enough by the loose cut of his slacks, and works to keep his thoughts from heating any further until he has reached his destination.

The cab drops him outside of Matthew's Motor Repairs and he pays, distracted and breathless with anticipation. Hob is there, inside, and Dream is certain that Hob is just as eager as he is for their rendezvous.

He hopes that Hob is just as eager.

Closed for walk-ins due to special circumstances, reads the hand-written sign taped to the glass of the shop door. Ring if you have an appointment.

Dream's heart plummets for half a second, until he remembers their parting conversation yesterday about appointments and showing up and fitting in. This sign is for him, surely, a blatant invitation.

He takes a breath to calm the excited pounding of his heart, squirms surreptitiously on the toy inside him, and rings the bell.

= Started: 5/15/24 Drafted: 7/27/24 Posted: 7/29/24

[beamtori]

𝟓-𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

nonidol!jacob bae x afab!reader

you've heard plenty of things about certified campus crush jacob bae, but when you finally meet him, you decide to find out if the rumors are true.

6.0k words (ITS ONLY THIS LONG BC OF THE PLOT), strangers 2 lovers, tutor!jacob, mentions of physics (yuck), swearing (not from jacob 💀), SMUT (minors dni), penetrative sex, oral sex (f.receiving)/face riding (m.receiving), cum eating, fingering, kind of sweet..., kissing, this was kind of tame ngl, pet names (smart girl, angel, baby, beautiful), barely proofread i am up past my bedtime 🤣

a/n: there is hope for me yet o7 @winterchimez here's the thing 💀, @zzoguri @snowflakewhispers to the jacob stans...

“OH MY GOD, YN!”

Your friend Ronnie's voice drew you out of your bubble, and you ripped the earbud out from your ear without looking up from your laptop screen. “Yeah, babe.”

“Jacob Bae just walked in—” Her hushed squealing was paired by an insistent tapping on your arm from across the table inside the café.

You made a face, taking the other earbud out. “Who?”

Ronnie's face flattened into incredulity. “The guy I have literally been talking your ear off about for the past month.”

Jacob… Jacob Bae… ah, Jacob. The name echoed something familiar in your near-empty noggin. Sometimes names just didn't stick when you were busy with other things like the torque and force mechanics you were trying to nail for your physics midterm in two weeks. “Oh right.”

“Damn,” she swore, twisting over her shoulder toward the entrance. She turned back to face you with a pout. “He just left.”

“He didn't get anything?”

“No,” Ronnie sighed. She twirled her pen around between her fingers, then tapped the top edge of your laptop screen. That was what pulled your eyes away from it. “I feel like I haven't seen your eyes in the last ninety minutes, Yn.”

You huffed a laugh, scribbling a note on your scratch notepad about how you performed the last exercise incorrectly. Just like the last one. “We are here to study, Ron.”

Ronnie gave a small smile, but the edges were down turned. “Yeah, I know we said that, but it was kind of an excuse for me to get you out of your apartment.”

“I go out of my apartment,” you protested.

Her eyebrow lifted as she reached for her iced coffee. “Besides for food or class.”

You opened your mouth, then snapped it closed after giving it more than a moment's thought. “Listen,” you ended up with as a response.

Ronnie snorted. “See? I haven't hung out with you ever since your last physics midterm, Yn. It's normal to worry about your friends, you know?” She nudged you teasingly from across the table.

You finally set your pen down to massage the pulsing headache beginning to form between your eyes. You wrinkled your nose up. “I guess you're right.”

“I know I am,” she mused. “Hey, if physics is overwhelming you, then you should totally go check out their tutoring center. I'm sure they have one.”

Your shoulders immediately slumped. Just the thought of the physics student center sent a queasy churn to your stomach. It wasn't that the people there weren't nice, it was just the fact that you hadn't had the best track record with tutors. No matter how hard they tried, no matter what method was used, you could never seem to get it down. Most of the time, you just forced yourself to buckle down until some miracle got you to get the correct answer. (Awful learning strategy, but you would take luck over skill at this point. Your GPA needed the luck.)

“You're probably right,” was what you said to her anyway. You knew she was just trying to help.

Shaking the negative thoughts away, you lowered your laptop screen to swap your pen for your untouched beverage. “Tell me about this Jacob guy again. How do you know him?”

Ronnie's eyes lit up, and you found yourself slowly relaxing again. “I'm pretty sure he's everybody's campus crush or something. Every time I bring him up with my other girl friends, they also seem to know about him? Which is crazy.”

You nodded. “Yeah, this is a pretty big uni.”

“Right? But—” Ronnie groaned, slumping back in her seat. “He's so hot, Yn-ie. I swear to god, his smile makes my fucking panties melt.”

You nearly snorted your drink up and out of your nose, and your friend slapped a hand over her mouth when you realized she said that out loud. “Please,” you wheezed, swiping your thumb at the corner of your lips. “So he's that attractive? Is he a good guy though? Like does his physical traits overcompensate for a… uh, an awful personality or something?”

“That's the best part—”

Your eyes narrowed. “No way.”

“He's literally the nicest person on Planet Earth, I swear to god, Yn.”

“You've talked to him?”

She paused. “No…”

You sent her a pointed look. “Then you can't say that unless you've talked to him, Ronnie. That's just how it works.”

Ronnie pursed her lips, gesturing vaguely with her hands. “It's just something you have to trust me on! Everybody knows he's super cool and handsome and just a top notch, cream-of-the-crop—”

“Not me,” you pointed out with a laugh.

“That's because your head is where your calculator is.”

You gasped, pressing your beloved scientific calculator to your chest as if hiding it from your friend's words. “You take that back! She's been more loyal than any man, thank you very much.”

Ronnie rolled her eyes. “Okay, that's probably true, but Jacob's gotten five-star reviews from everybody!”

“On what account?” You scoffed.

“You just have to trust me,” Ronnie repeated, emphasizing her words with a cheeky smile.

Your face contorted into one that clearly gave away your disbelief. “Okay, sure.”

Despite your reluctance to go in the first place, you found yourself walking down the hallway of the physics department building toward the student center. There were usually TA office hours held here throughout the week, and a couple of the physics professors even came here to hold their own help sessions, but the hour you chose was none of those. Frankly, you had zero faith you were going to be able to learn this from someone else successfully; there was just something weird about how your brain worked.

Nonetheless, you were desperate.

The room was rather bustling when you arrived with nearly all of the group tables filled up with students helping each other work through the problems. Anxiety settled in your gut like a parasite, and you meandered toward the side of the room where there was an open single desk. Maybe if you just sat here and worked on your problems by yourself, you could technically still say you came to the student center like a coward.

With a sigh, you began pulling your materials out from your bag to get to work. Immediately, you realized that you had last stopped working on an awful problem you didn't even know how to start.

“Hi!”

You startled, head whipping upward fast enough to give you whiplash. Heat swarmed up to your neck and ears.

There was a guy standing in front of you with a boyish smile and wearing a deep purple Laker's hoodie. With a sweater paw, he gave a wave, repeating his greeting. “Hi, I'm sorry I snuck up on you. I was wondering if I could be of any assistance?”

The way his dark brown hair curled over his forehead and the way his molten brown eyes shone so warmly in the fluorescent lights was throwing you off your mark. And that was only when you weren't already stunned by the absolute beautiful smile adorning his—you snapped out of it.

A sheepish smile wormed its way onto your face, and you cupped the back of your neck. “Oh, that's okay, I tend to get kind of oblivious with my surroundings,” you laughed nervously. Why was the way he looked at you making you so clumsy with your words? “Uhm, I guess maybe? I've kind of been stuck on this torque problem for a while.”

You swallowed, spinning your laptop around to show him the practice problem on the screen. His eyes skimmed over the words, tongue jamming into the side of his cheek.

“Oh, I see,” he said kindly. “This problem is notoriously awful, but I have a trick for getting through these ones if you'd like.”

“Oh, really?” You couldn't help the hopeful tilt in pitch at the end of your question, and you watched him drag over a spare chair to sit adjacent to you.

He settled next to you, his knees knocking against yours, and you both blurted out apologies to each other. “Sorry,” he murmured. “May I?” He gestured to your writing utensil and notepad.

“Yeah, of course.”

He twirled the pen between his fingers. “Ooh, these ones are nice to write with. Super smooth.”

You nodded. “Yeah, for sure! They also last really long, too.”

There was an interesting gleam in his eyes as he peered over at you. “That's also true.” He shook his head, a sheepish chuckle falling from his mouth. “I'm sorry, I just realized I completely butted into your study session, and didn't even introduce myself.”

You couldn't help the small flutter in your chest. Oh, the bare minimum of chivalry, and yet, here you were feeling so woozy from it. “It's no worries,” you assured him, “I really would have just stared at this thing before giving up, so.”

He brushed a hand through his hair. “I totally get that. Physics isn't for the faint of heart, so you're already doing great by coming here for help in the first place. I'm Jacob, by the way.” He accompanied the latter with an outstretched hand toward yours.

You licked your lips, managing a small smile and clasping his hand in a shake. “Nice to meet you, Jacob—” That name sounded familiar, “—I’m Yn.”

But there were probably hundreds of Jacobs who went to this school. There was no way that the one time you happened to come to the student help center, the Jacob Bae that Ronnie gushed to you about just happened to be the guy to help you.

It was ridiculous.

“Yn,” he repeated, as if trying the way your name tasted on his tongue. “Nice to meet you, too,” he beamed. You realized how your heart stuttered every time he smiled.

His eye contact lingered, and then he cleared his throat. “Sorry, shall we?” He motioned to the problem, and you nodded eagerly.

“Yeah, let's do it,” you said. You subtly brought your hand up against your cheek and felt your skin. It definitely was hot to the touch; why did this guy have to be so attractive? If you weren't going to learn anything because of your weird learning quirk, you weren't going to learn jackshit because the man teaching you was just that distracting.

It turned out miracles did exist.

“You would not believe what happened to me this afternoon.”

You paced about the bedroom in your apartment with your phone on speaker and broadcasting Ronnie's voice. You had just gotten home from the physics student center, your heart rate still over the speed limit and your skin warm. There was a giddiness and adrenaline making your fingers twitch, and frankly, you couldn't sit down for this.

“Why? What happened?” Your friend asked in earnest.

You massaged your lips together. “Okay, you know the other day when you were telling me about that Jacob Bae guy?”

You could hear the excitement creeping into her voice. “Yes…”

“Do you know what his major is?”

“I'm pretty sure it's physics...”

You had to stop and slap your hands to your face. The sound was loud enough for Ronnie to hear on the other side, and she began barking out the standard “What happened? What happened? Tell me what happened!”

“Okay, so I went to the physics student center to try and get help, right?” When you heard Ronnie's hum of acknowledgment, you continued on, “And there's this one problem I've been stuck on for an illegal amount of time. And this guy comes up to me and asks if he can help me, and Ronnie—Ronnie, he was so—”

“Hot! Panty-meltingly attractive?”

You nearly bursted into laughter at how ridiculous all of this sounded. “He was just so cute. Like fine-cute. And he actually helped me, dude. You know my weird schtick about people teaching me—”

“Oh my gosh, for real? He was actually able to help you out?”

You flopped onto your bed, grinning at the ceiling in pure relief and accomplishment. “Yes! If he's the Jacob Bae you were talking about…” You sighed, shaking your head, “He gets my stamp of approval.”

Rather than coming back to your apartment defeated as you thought you would, you left with a newfound confidence in your abilities to understand physics, new tips and tricks from Jacob, and… you were probably going to frame the little “You did well today, Yn! Super lovely meeting you. x, Jacob” note he left for you in the corner of one of the notepad leaflets. It was his faith in you and unrelenting patience that got you through your practice problems today.

Maybe you weren't a lost cause after all? Crazy.

“I told you!” Ronnie exclaimed.

You drew an arm over your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Gloat all you want.” You were still proud of yourself, and way too satisfied with how the day went.

“Well, hello hello,” Jacob chuckled as he sidled up by your desk with a white lollipop stick hanging out from his lips. His eyes were crinkled in amusement as he peered down at you with his hands shoved into his pockets, hair tucked beneath a black baseball cap.

“Hey,” you chirped. “How're you?”

He smiled around the sweet in his mouth, stepping over to drag a chair beside you as he always did. It had been about a week since you first met him, and you had yet to fail to come to the tutoring center once. “I'm great. How about you? Ready for the exam tomorrow?”

Your hand met your forehead, and your expression coaxed a chuckle from him. “I definitely feel more prepared than a week ago, but it's still nerve-racking. The horror stories I've heard, Cobie…”

Something appeared in your view. You blinked, surprised, when you realized Jacob was holding out a little lollipop in front of you bundled in a standard paper wrapper.

“Encouragement,” he said simply, giggling at your doe-eyed expression.

You broke out into a smile and accepted the lollipop from him, eagerly twisting the wrapper off to pop the treat into your mouth. “Thanks, man.”

“Yeah, no worries. I had extras and thought you might need the extra boost.”

“That's really sweet of you,” you said in earnest. “I haven't had a lollipop in forever.” Your lips pursed around the head as you took the strawberry flavored pop out of your mouth to look at the glistening surface in the tutoring center lights.

You licked your lips of the juices, not catching how his eyes darted to watch you do so.

He cleared his throat, shifting his lollipop from one cheek to the other. “So, what did you wanna go over today?”

It had been a little over a week since you first met Jacob and came under his tutelage. It seemed the chemistry-turned-physics major always happened to be free to cater to your needs every time you walked in for help. Everything Ronnie had told you that day in the café had been true—not only was Jacob an absolute stud, he was also a perfect angel. You couldn't believe such a divine human being even existed, let alone continued to find your company amusing enough to still tutor you one on one without payment.

(And you couldn't believe you were even able to focus around him. There were always gentle brushes of his hand against yours, lingering glances that made your neck heat, and the like. Your heart cartwheeled in your chest with more agility and frequency than your physical body could.)

By the time the physics midterm exam rolled around, you were feeling much more prepared for the material you would be tested on. The exam flew by in the blink of an eye, and before you knew it, you were breaking out of the examination hall and into the cool autumn evening. Your stomach growled as you wandered down the street toward the university district to find dinner.

Adrenaline still pumped through your veins from the exam, but your mood was substantially higher than it was after the first exam.

You stood outside one of the ramen shops in the district, head cocked to the side as you contemplated the menu plastered on one of the windows.

“Yn?”

You broke out from your food-searching daze, your lips pulling into a smile as you greeted Jacob coming down the sidewalk toward you. “Hey, Cobie. What's good?”

Jacob grinned as he sidled up beside you, one of his hands carding through his hair before sticking itself back into the pocket of his dark bomber jacket. “I'm just looking for dinner," he chuckled. “Did you just come from the exam?”

“I did,” you confirmed with a bob of your head.

“And? How'd it go?”

Your smile widened, and you ducked your head for a second. “I think it went pretty alright,” you admitted. “I don't wanna jinx myself though. But I think I do deserve a reward for making it through, don't you think?”

Jacob nodded. “Oh, for sure. You've been so good for m—I mean,” he coughed, amending his words, “You've worked really hard these past couple weeks and so it deserves a little celebration. Are you… are you here with anyone?”

“Definitely not,” you winced sheepishly, “since I just got out of the exam and all—I don't usually make plans right after tests.”

“I see; I get that.” He rubbed the back of his head, tongue ghosting over his bottom lip. “Well, I'm not really here with anyone either. Would you mind some company?”

You met his eyes and your heart did the little hop-n-skip it always did when you made eye contact with him. “Yeah, I'd love some company, actually. I'd love to repay you for all the help you've given me recently.”

He chuckled, swinging the door to the shop open for you. “Trust me, it was my pleasure, Yn.”

If there was one thing you knew for sure, Jacob was a gentleman through and through. If chivalry was dead, then Jacob Bae was dead—okay, maybe that was a little morbid to think about on your way home, especially when the man in question walked right beside you, hands tucked into his jacket pockets with a wistful little smile on his face.

Dinner had gone splendidly—except for the fact he had a feeling you would want to pay for his meal and subtly slipped the waiter his card before you could. The cherry on top was his offer to walk you home—only if you were comfortable—and though you knew that definitely wouldn't even on the ledger, you accepted his offer. More time with him? Yes, please.

“This is my building here,” you murmured, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as reluctance for this evening to end worked its way up your throat. You inclined your chin to the apartment complex coming up just a few hundred feet ahead.

“Ah,” he said under his breath.

The two of you stopped in front of the entrance to the lobby, facing one another. “Thanks for dinner,” you said for what seemed like the fifth night.

He beamed. “Anytime, Yn. I loved hanging out with you.”

If you wore a heart rate monitor, it probably would have been screaming at you right about now. “Uhm… would you… like to continue hanging out with me? I mean, like, coming up?” You nudged your thumb behind you in the direction of the doors. Was that too forward of you?

His eyes widened a smidge, and his smile softened at the corners. “I'd love to.”

A giddy sort of feeling bubbled up in your chest as you and he shared wide grins, and you led him up to your apartment. Your hands shook slightly as you arrived at your door, your keys jingling against one another as you sorted through them for the right one.

“I wasn't expecting company, so I hope you don't mind the mess,” you laughed nervously, fingers pinching the right key to insert into the lock.

He gave a kind smile. “Oh, it's no worries at all. Actually, can I—I should probably say something before we go in.”

Your movements stopped short and you turned to face him, wide-eyed. “Uh oh,” you mused half-heartedly, “this is the moment you tell me you're a serial killer.” Please don't be a serial killer…

That coaxed a bright laugh from his mouth, and your heart melted a little bit. He shook his head, “No, no. Nothing of that sort, I swear! I just…” His lips pressed into a smile again and he confessed, “I'm attracted to you, Yn. Ah, there it is; I said it.”

He released a nervous giggle, cupping the back of his neck.

Starstruck, you lost the key in your hand. “Me?” You stammered. Were your ears deceiving you? “Like… in a not-just-friends way?”

Jacob nodded. “Yeah, in a not-just-friends way.” Then quickly added, “I mean, if that makes you uncomfortable, I can totally leave. We can be just friends, too, if you're okay with that. I just think you're gorgeous, and smart, and—”

“Can I kiss you?” You blurted.

“Please do—I need to shut up.”

And you gladly shut him up.

You stepped forward and closed the gap between you, his hands coming up to cup your face as your lips met. He tasted like spearmint from the gum he offered right after tonight's meal—always thinking of everything, this one. His mouth was soft against yours, something tender and gentle, giving you enough space to pull away if you wished.

But you didn't. Good lord, you wanted more.

Your eyes fluttered open just as he did, his nose bumping against yours.

“Inside?” He murmured.

You nodded. “Yeah, inside.”

You fumbled with the keys into your apartment, hand blindly flipping the light switch on as Jacob found your lips again, hands grappling onto your waist. His foot kicked the front door shut behind you both as shoes came off.

Your back met the wall just as you slid a hand into his curls. The sound of keys hitting the floor echoed in your ears, but your other senses were far too overwhelmed with Jacob right now—the smell of the cologne clinging to his clothes, the soft earnestness of his mouth against yours, his hard body pressed up—

“So sweet,” he groaned, squeezing your sides. “Could eat you up.”

You whimpered at his words, his mouth breaking away from yours so you could both shove your jackets off your shoulders. “You shouldn't say things like that,” you breathed, pressing your hands against his chest.

The corners of his lips curled upward. “Actually,” he drawled, dropping his mouth near your ear, “that's not a bad idea.”

Your knees nearly buckled. “Huh?”

Your mind went fuzzy as he attached his lips to the side of your neck, suckling sweetly against your pulse, your skin, your collarbone.

“You're a smart girl,” he chuckled warmly, the vibrations sending something just as warm to your panties. “You can figure it out.”

He smiled against your throat, feeling your pulse skip. “There you go,” he purred.

You knocked your head back against the wall at the thought of what he was insinuating—planning—to do to you. When you turned your gaze down, you nearly whimpered again at the sight of him sinking down to his knees before you with a wicked grin on his face.

Forget angelic—this man could be the Devil if he so wished.

“I have a bedroom, you know,” you attempted to joke, but you were also dead serious. Was he seriously about to…?

His hands—large, warm, veiny, and studded with rings—smoothed over the fabric of your skirt, not daring to venture under until you gave him the go-ahead. “We'll get to that,” he promised. “May I?”

You wrestled down a swallow, blood hammering in your ears. “Yeah,” you croaked.

Jacob licked his lips, then pressed a featherweight kiss to the side of your knee. He glanced up at you in silent question. Was that okay?

You nodded in approval, moving your hands into his hair and to cup the back of his head.

He continued on, kissing his way up your inner thighs, until his head dipped beneath the hem of your skirt and you could feel his hot breath fan over your clothed cunt.

Your breath hitched when you felt him blow cool air at the wet spot that collected at the bottom of your underwear.

Jacob's warm laugh met your ears. “You're so cute,” he murmured. His nose nudged you through the damp fabric, and he marveled, “You're so wet for me—can’t wait to taste you.”

Your fingers tightened in his hair. “Please, Cobie.”

“Almost there, angel. You've been so good for me.”

A whine fell from your lips at that, and you slapped a palm against your mouth. God, you sounded so desperate, and maybe you were.

He slowly tugged your underwear down, and you stepped out of them. With the barrier out of the way, Jacob went right to work, licking a broad stripe up your slit and sending you careening against his face.

“Shit,” you swore, one hand grappling onto his shoulder.

Jacob held you upright with one of his arms looped under your thigh to anchor you into place. His nose bumped against your clit as he wormed his tongue through your folds.

You grounded your hips against his tongue, his mouth, his face, begging for more.

His lips latched onto your puffed up clit next, and your head knocked back against the wall again. “Jacob, please—”

He teased your opening with one of his fingers, then dipped it into your weeping cunt. The metal ring was cool against your pussy lips, the sting delicious, as he thrusted his fingers in and out of you as his mouth sucked on your clit mercilessly.

“Jacob, right there—please, please, please—” You tugged the strands of his hair and he groaned into your pussy, the vibrations going straight to your sensitive nub. You rocked your hips against him, desperately chasing after your own high.

You felt a second finger enter you, and the two digits curled and jammed against the soft, gummy spot inside you.

He licked your clit, replacing his tongue with his thumb for a second. “Close, angel?”

“Mhm,” you bit your lip. “Please, I'm so close.”

You moaned as he reattached his lips to your clit, vigorously suckling it until it was bruised, his fingers ramming up into you in tandem. His arm tightened around you as you cried out, your fingers clawing into the meat of his shoulder—your knees buckled, your vision went white for a split second, and fire erupted in your belly as you went over the edge.

Jacob's tongue lapped up all of the slick that had collected, and you sucked in a breath when his tongue dove through your folds and made you clench around the appendage.

When his head came out from under your skirt, his hair was a ruffled mess (thanks to you), and his face gleamed in your arousal and his sweat. He met your eyes, sticking his two fingers in his mouth to clean them.

You nearly went over again at the sight. “Fucking hell,” you exhaled, curling an arm around him as he clambered up to his feet.

Jacob smiled, swooping in to kiss you again so you could taste yourself on him. His hands smoothed down the sides of your body before coming down to cup the backs of your thighs. “You feeling okay?” He murmured into you, coaxing you to wrap your legs around his waist, thumb grazing the skin on your leg.

“Mmh,” you hummed against him, breath hitching when your bare pussy brushed against the rough hardness in his jeans. “Definitely better than okay. What about you?”

“Same here.” He cradled your head with one hand, and held you up with his other. “Do you want more?” He asked you breathlessly, pulling away.

His hand smoothed over the top of your head fondly. You nodded. He seemed to always be wanting to give. “Only if you want more.”

“Yeah, baby. Where's your bedroom?”

He had scooped you up and laid you out over your bed sheets like his own personal feast—and to be so very honest, you wouldn't mind being his meal every single day.

“This is cute,” he said cheekily with his knee pressed into the mattress as he climbed over you onto the bed.

You cupped the side of his face to draw him down to you. “You didn't even look at the room,” you mused into his mouth.

He hummed deeply, maneuvering your head back to deepen the kiss. He pressed his tongue into your mouth, the rough surface massaging against your own and making you forget your own name. “Anything you—” he said at last, “—I find unabashedly cute.”

“Unabashedly, you say?” You teased.

Jacob broke away only to tear his shirt over his head and to give you space to do the same. You pulled your shirt over your head and swiftly undid the clasp of your bra, your eyes fixing on the carved muscle flexing on his stomach as he settled back over you.

His tongue darted out of his lips. “Like what you see?”

You couldn't deny it; who were you trying to fool anyways? “I do.”

Maybe he was surprised by your forwardness. A bit of pink brushed his cheekbones and he leaned over you to press a kiss to your lips. “I can say the same about you, beautiful.”

He trailed one of his knuckles down the valley between your breasts, your chest rising and falling with your every breath. Goosebumps rose upon your flesh as he went, and you were itching to feel his mouth on your skin again.

“Can I touch you some more?” He murmured, eyes darting up to yours.

You nodded earnestly.

Jacob bracketed his arms next to your body and lowered his mouth over one of your nipples. Your fingers found his hair again with a gasp, arching yourself into his mouth and relishing the feeling of his skilled tongue swirling around your perked nub. His other hand gently massaged your other breast, squeezing the mound affectionately.

You covered his hand with yours, urging him to fondle you harder, rougher. The way his skin felt against yours was heavenly.

You sighed his name, wrapping one of your legs around his waist to grind your pelvis against his hardness.

He groaned around you, “Ugh, Yn.” He popped his mouth off your breast, lips trailing down to your belly, all while he grinded into you to chase some form of relief.

“Jacob, please,” you rasped, urging him with a harsh thrust. “Wanna feel you.”

You were tugging your skirt down your legs next, accompanied to the sound of his belt buckle clinking and the denim falling to the floor beside your bed. His erection tented his boxers, and his face looked flushed, but he dug around in his wallet for a spare condom before coming back to you.

When he yanked his boxers down, his heavy cock sprung up and slapped against his stomach. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows to watch him tear the condom packet open with his teeth before sliding the rubber over his throbbing cock.

He groaned softly under his breath, a muscle in his jaw feathering as he wrapped his fist around the head and squeezed himself lightly.

“You're really hot,” you said then, catching him off guard and making him grin boyishly.

He laughed, leaning down to find your lips in a sweet kiss. “Yeah?” He murmured. “You walked into the tutoring center and I knew I was gone, I thought you were so pretty.”

Your chuckle was muffled against him. “Trying to one-up me, Jacob?” Your mirth sobered slightly as he rubbed the tip of his cock between your slickened folds.

Jacob nipped at your bottom lip. “You’ve always been a fast learner.”

As he pushed himself into you, stretching you out inch by inch, you melted into him, fingers digging into his shoulders and his face burying itself into the hollow of your neck.

Your stomach rose and fell with your quick breaths. “Holy shit,” you moaned, mouth falling open as you clung onto him. You could feel him filling you up, the condom doing nearly nothing to hide the ridges of the veins along his shaft. They rubbed against your walls, and you clenched desperately around him.

Jacob moaned loudly, his hips twitching against yours. “Baby, please," he choked out. “You're so—god, you're so tight.”

“You can move now,” you told him softly, cupping the back of his head.

You felt him nod, and with a groan, he pulled his hips back and pushed them into you again. The first thrust was delicious, the second and all the rest were sublime. With every drag of his cock against your walls, you could feel your stomach clench, the pressure building inside you.

His hips slammed against yours desperately, the bed rocking with your movements beneath you and knocking against the wall—thunk, think, thunk—a steady rhythm. He seemed to be consistent in everything he did.

Jacob pressed his body weight against yours as he moved against you. The room filled with the sounds of both of your bliss, and the lewd squelching noises every time he fucked himseld in you. You could feel the wetness and sweat dribbled to your thighs and your ass; barely comprehending just how messy this would be.

“You feel so good, angel,” he groaned, reaching down between your bodies to flick his thumb over your clit.

You yelped, the sensation nearly tipping you over. “Jacob, oh my god—”

“So good for me,” he murmured, sweat dripping down the curve of his sculpted nose. ��Gonna come again for me? Nice and pretty as always?”

Your head nodded vigorously, your hips rising to meet his, pelvic bones smashing against each other, his balls slapping against your ass. “Shit, I'm so close!”

You could feel yourself being cranked and wound up like a jack in the box—the precipice was in sight and just in your reach.

Jacob's thrusts grew sloppy, but rougher as he reached his own high. He grunted against your skin, and you both came at once, his hips stilling inside you as you clenched down hard around him.

“Jacob,” you cried out for what seemed like the thousandth time tonight, while his own voice hoarsely grunted your name by your ear.

For a moment, you let your breathing and heart rate steady. You gently brushed your hand against the back of his head as his arms wrapped around your body and he littered your skin with kisses.

“How was that, angel?” He murmured to you, voice husky. He raised his head up to meet your lips with his.

You kissed him back. “It was really good.”

Jacob gave a warm chuckle, eyes crinkling with a smile. “Yeah?”

“Five stars,” you joked.

That drew a slightly louder laugh out of him, and he carefully pulled his softened cock out of you. Swiftly tying the condom off, you directed him to the waste bin beneath your desk.

Jacob settled onto the edge of bed next to you and one of his hands cupped the side of your face, his thumb trailing over your cheekbone. “I meant it—you’re really, really gorgeous. And I know this kind of moved fast, but I'd really like to see where this goes.”

You bit your lip around a smile and met the twinkle in his eye. “I feel the same way.”

You slowly sat up and draped yourself around him, one of his hands holding your forearm to return the gesture. “How's a bath sound?” You asked. You wanted to do something for him now.

He grinned, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “I would love that.”

a/n: abrupt endings are my weakness 💀 someone remind me how to write a conclusion

tbz m.list

[exitwound]

hey! just curious, are you studying physics? i loved your take on pearls as anti-cavities and I wish to hear more

i am studying poetry and oceanography! so. basically the physics of the soul and of the ocean. <3 (i am probably concentrating in biological oceanography actually but who knows) but not actual physics ive still never taken a physics class i have to soon but ive been putting it off im scared. its like the one thing that remains mysterious to me i am conceptually interested in tiny and huge scales but the real world means nothing to me...i am underly preoccupied with the concrete and utterly occupied with the stufff of dreams... i loveee fluids though. and sound. and low-reynolds number movement. that one paper 'life at low reynolds number' do you know the paper i think ive posted it here before its so CRAZY to me. and id be reluctantly open to learning more about friction and torque. the conservation of angular momentum in ice princess (2005) really changed everything for me. more than anything else i will never stop spinning . these are the main things that come to mind regarding physics. omg i got so distracted you were asking about pearls. i would love to tell you more as soon as i think of it

[official-lucifers-child]

hello mickey 'physics enjoyer' official-lucifers-child can you please share some of your favorite physics facts/concepts/etc !! i need to be reminded of how cool and awesome and fun physics as a field is because im currently in the physics class from hell (the teacher is beyond awful) and its making me really hate the subject. which sucks!!! i love math and thinking about how things work in general and i know i could love physics if i didn't have this specific class with this specific teacher :( </3

hello!!

TORQUE!!!

i love torque so fucking much because so much of physics is reliant on torque in different ways, especially in real-life scenarios. very rarely are masses uniform, and a basic understanding of pivot points (or axes of rotation or whatever you wanna call them) can allow you to determine the centre of mass/gravity of an object which in turn allows you to determine how much force a given object within the system is experiencing!!

also torque is just. it's so easy to demonstrate and it's something we all have a grasp of even without knowing physics at all? the fact that door handles are on the very edge of the door opposite the hinges, instead of in the middle or something. swings (like in playgrounds). baseball bats. climbing trees.

angular motion in general is fascinating because it is both torque and calculus BUT you can teach it to people who don't know calculus because technically everyone knows calculus if they have any mathematical skills, because calculus is fucking EVERYWHERE and in EVERYTHING, just like physics. and torque. and angular motion.

honestly, i can't turn off my brain when it comes to physics. i'll be doing literally anything and my brain will go "you're swinging your arms to offset the motion of your legs which is requiring your brain to calculate the angular motion of your arms and the angular motion of your legs in order to keep you stable" and "that sign is hanging weirdly from those ropes, so the rope on the right is experiencing greater tension because of its angle in comparison to the rope on the left, and the sign is in equilibrium so i know that the weight of the sign and the combined tension of the vertical component of the ropes has to be equal and opposite, and i could calculate the tension if i knew how heavy the sign was an the angles of the ropes"

basically every time a topic in physics sucks major ass, go out into the real world and find instances of it!!! or just create goofy scenarios in your head that involve the topic!! envision your physics teacher in a centrifuge and calculate how many G's they'd be experiencing. they'd be dead of course but. imagine :)

[sexhaver]

a really long time ago u made a post about how u became a determinist bc of one math class u took, I think? Do u remember which class

yeah it was specifically a dynamics class that mostly covered bond graphs and how to draw/interpret them. i had always known somewhere in the back of my head that it was theoretically possible to predict the future state of the universe (or at least some subset of it) based on perfect information about its current state, but that class made the mechanism behind that prediction more explicit. like, this is what an induction motor looks like:

it tracks the energy in the system as it flows from electricity to magnetism then back to electricity before being converted to mechanical torque, all while obeying thermodynamics. all of existence is just this graph but infinitely more complicated, and can therefore be represented as a massive state-space and then solved.

my conclusion was that either there's some part of the universe that both can't be predicted on a bond graph and would allow for free will, or there isn't and we only feel like we have free will because that's how we interpret the particles in our brains interacting in their predetermined ways. and to me, the idea that human beings can physically alter the particles in their mind just by thinking a certain way (rather than it being exactly the other way around) is peak egocentrism, so im team determinism

[animentality]

I absolutely hate act 3 of baldur's gate 3, but I fully admit, it is really fucking nice to be fully torqued.

I'm doing a gloomstalker thief fighter build and it's actually such a broken fucking build, especially when dual wielding.

oh look im at the front of the initiative every time, oh look, dread ambusher, oh look, sneak attack, oh look, I'm not a rogue so I get an extra attack, oh look, I'm dual wielding as a thief and I have TWO offhand melee attacks, oh look, action surge, let's do that all over again. still alive?

lol, not for long.

plus you're kitted. I have vulnerability to all physical damage gear, I always have advantage, and gear reducing the number to crit. I have orin's daggers and rings that let me paralyse opponents.

I ALSO have highly annoying spells, number one being, ensnaring strike.

get fucked orin, you can't move as I bash you over and over with haste.

you also get spike growth, which is very useful for making them BLEED before they get anywhere near you.

it's a really great build (I stole it from a YouTuber, I'm not applauding myself)

actually brilliant.

plus if you sneak around and initiate fights with a hit, you still get a turn to use dread ambusher and your second attack.

no one told me a non magic class could be so fun.

I refuse to be a paladin but this build has made me appreciate the melee classes.

[sentient-rift]

Once the potion wears off, I suggest a temporary truce to go fight the anon who used the love potion.

"Normally, I would refrain from teaming up with anyone unless I really have to. But if it's Luna, I'll team up with her anytime!"

"Pretty sure that's the love potion talking, buddy."

"I feel so conflicted by all these. If these feelings are fake, why do they feel so real?"

"That's kind of how a love potion works, Luna..."

"I will not stand for anyone making Luna sad! Come, Luna. Let's go do something together."

"Oh! Can we go look at adorable stuffed animals?"

"Anything for you, Luna."

The two temporary lovebirds went on their way.

"... I feel a great sorrow will come upon us when the potion wears off."

"You and me both..."

[hirocimacruiser]

Honda Acty Kei class van

The new face of the Honda Acty Van, a car that gives you confidence in your abilities.

actyvan

Excellent dynamic performance and economy inherited from trucks. Thoroughly quiet design and a large cabin that feels like a passenger car.

Please note that the Acty Van cannot be driven with a license limited to 360cc.

left standard

right super deluxe

It is equipped with a new engine that is as brisk and tenacious as a truck. It is powerful and economical. In addition to the engine that is well-known for its quietness, thorough soundproofing measures are taken everywhere, making it so quiet that you would never think it was a commercial vehicle. Together with the color-coordinated luxurious cabin, this is the definitive light commercial vehicle that will make your business run smoothly and comfortably.

Large luggage space and completely flat floor. A large luggage space measuring 1,660mm in length (), 1,230mm in width and 1,110mm in height. The completely flat floor eliminates the annoying protrusions of the wheel wells, allowing luggage to be loaded efficiently to every corner without damaging it. A semi-high roof allows for large loads. And large sliding doors with wide openings make it easy to handle. An efficient design that speeds up business.

Acty Van Standard Model J・VD Engine model EH545 Water-cooled 2-cylinder, OHC Maximum output 28PS Maximum torque 4.2kgm 24km/h (60km/h, constant speed test value) Total length 3,195 Total width (335 Total height 1,745mm Maximum weight 350kg (250kg with 4 passengers)

[sw5w]

Battle Droids Open Fire

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 02:02:27

[caroftheday]

Day 2

Today's car is the 1953 Corvette C1! The first production Corvette ever made, a very sought after and adored car.

People pay big money for this kind of ride, find the details on the C1 below!

Look out for a bonus weekend vehicle post today, it'll be the Piper PA-28-181 Archer II.

I've fixed the images of the cars and removed the incorrect engine from this post, thank you for the corrections.

Date launched: June 30, 1953

Units made and sold: 300 units

Company: Chevrolet

Weight: 2,886 lbs/1,309 kg

Horsepower: 150 HP

Top speed: 108mph/42kmph

0-60mph/0-37kmph: 11.2 Seconds

Drivetrain: RWD

Mpg/kmpg: 13.7 mpg/22 kmpg

Fuel capacity: 18 gallons/68 liters

Engine options: Chevrolet Corvette 235 Blue-Flame, 3.8 liter 235 cubic inch inline six normally aspirated water cooled

Engine position: front

Peak power: 4,200 RPM

Peak torque: 2,400 RPM

Price then: $3,498 USD

Price now: sold at auction for $143,000-$335,000 USD (there have been more expensive sold based on rarity but these are the average prices at auction)

Consumer opinion: the C1 was accepted well by the car community and middle class as well as well to do families due to the price tag, it was largely known that there were many improvements to be made on the car for future models.

[creadigol]

Request to continue Teacher Hero?

Only if you want to!

Please and thank you! 💖

Honestly, this has been one that has wracked my brain for a while! Due to that, I think I may have made this a bit long…but I hope you like it! 💕 Thanks for the request!

This is a continuation of my Hero Teacher prompt here

“You know…you really need to stop doing this.”

“If you let it leak, the water bill will be horrendous. Trust me, I know.”

The mechanic's dolly Villain laid on, made a sharp creek as they shifted position and grabbed some kind of adjustable wrench (one that Hero had never seen before…then again they were shit at home repairs) from the tool box. Villain’s head and shoulders were not visible from Hero’s vantage point, so they inclined themselves to speak with Villain's black jean covered legs instead.

Their favorite pair to wear while working the plumbing system, as Hero had come to learn these last few weeks.

Hero tapped their finger on the kitchen counter, “I’m not talking about the sink.”

“Well, I’m working on the sink,” came Villain’s easy and muffled reply.

“Yes, I can see that.”

“Then, as this is the current activity I am doing and you are actively watching me do it, one would assume that the plausible topic of conversation, when begun under such prerequisites, would be about said activity..ie the sink.”

“And I’m not talking about the sink.”

“Then I’m confused.”

Hero huffed in frustration and ran a hand through their hair.

“Stop being obstinate!”

The resulting chuckle from under the caverns of the counter just served to irritate Hero more.

“Obstinate! That’s a big word. Does your class know the meaning of it yet or are you breaking out the SAT words now that you have a chance to talk to an actual adult?”

“For someone whose crotch is sitting dangerously close to my stomping foot, I'm hearing a lot of sass.”

“Fine, fine, point taken. What ARE you talking about then?”

Hero had to think. Honestly. What were they talking about? The home and classroom repairs? The strange new repertoire between the two of them? The fact that Villain had found out their secret identity in the first place?!

“All of it.” They finally conceded.

The torquing of the wrench stopped.

“All of what?” Asked Villain in a falsely innocent voice.

“All of THIS!” Hero gestured around their own kitchen, knowing Villain would pick up on the fact even if they couldn’t see from under the sink.

“Wha…” Hero didn’t let Villain finish.

“THIS! The home repairs, the classroom windows, little Stacy’s bike, Mrs. Santori’s 1998 Avalon…”

“Didn’t realize you knew about that one…”

“Of course I knew! Teachers of the same grade tend to go to the same meetings, dumbass. What else am I to make of her muffler and AC suddenly working again?”

The scraping of the wrench started again.

“Her mechanic is a con artist…Worked with him a few times actually…was going to charge an arm and a leg…”

“That’s not what I’m asking!”

“Then what are you asking?”

Hero had enough.

Leaning over the sink they stomped their socked foot down on the mechanic's dolly right between Villlain’s legs. Using the leverage, Hero viciously rolled Villain out, leaning over so their eyes met while Hero’s hands rested on either side of the sink and their entire stature loomed over them.

It would have been an intimidating pose, had Hero not been in a loose t-shirt, sweatpants and have their hair falling all over their face. Villain had shone up right as Hero had put on some comfortable clothes to cook in.

Villain, for their part, looked shocked for only a moment before replacing the expression with a more condescending and vexing one.

“I’m asking,” Hero said slowly, letting the intimidating tone they only used while hero-ing seep into their voice, “why?”

“Why.” Villain repeated.

“Why.” Hero confirmed.

They stayed that way in silence for a moment. Neither one attempting to break eye contact.

In a sudden movement, Villain brought the wrench they were still holding up to Hero’s face, stopping just short of their nose. Hero didn’t flinch.

“That,” Villain said easily. They moved the wrench the last inch, gently booping Hero’s nose. “Is a story for another time.”

Hero rolled their eyes, straightened and reached their hand down to help Villain up.

“What I think is more important right now, is not the ‘why’, but the ‘who’.”

Now it was Hero’s turn to try and look innocent.

“I don’t know what you mean…”

Villain threw the wrench back into the toolbox with a loud clang.

“Of course you know what I mean!”

“That’s not…I mean…It’s not relevant,” Hero stammered.

“Oh!” Villain walked closer to Hero, effectively backing them into the kitchen island. “It’s not relevant that one of the very precious students you dedicate so much of your life to..is Supervillain’s daughter.”

TBC if requested!