#and of course I had to be a bit of a language nerd

[occamstfs]

Peace Together

Devon dreamed of getting out of the South, after achieving his great escape and beginning his Ivy League education he finds a new challenge in his perfect roommate, Phillip Wellington III or Lip. Never has the jock been anything but an angel to his new roommate, so why does he drive Devon mad?

Anxious nerd -> Preppy jock Bit of a self indulgent one, vaguely based on a certain American novel, which anyone who has read it will surely notice haha! Once more aided by Fred W. Kong! Hope you enjoy this tale of two longing roommates! -Occam

Devon never believed that people like Lip actually existed. Sure, superficially he looked just like any number of tormentors he knew from back home; The very ones who led him to avoid any team sports or phys ed, the ones that led him to pour everything he had into his studies and any academic extracurriculars he could find to get out of Mississippi. And so he did, and then he met Phillip. Or Lip, as he prefers to be called.

The pair came from different worlds. Devon was the sole Asian student in a southern public high school. Phillip Wellington III was the scion of a blue blooded Massachusetts clan. From the start Devon knew he would be encountering people from lives he would never understand, coming from backgrounds of such privilege he could scarcely understand.

But when he heard he would be rooming with a Wellington, Devon went almost catatonic with fear that he would be some plaything of a rich asshole. Out from the frying pan of brutish jocks and into the fire of a genuinely powerful preppy tyrant. Come to find out however, Lip was the furthest thing from a cruel snob.

At face value, one would assume Lip was handed his admission to this university on a silver platter, and true, no donor-hungry university would deny a Wellington. Devon certainly thought as much. But after learning even briefly of his new roommate’s achievements it was clear that by all accounts, Lip earned his place here. His test scores were stellar, academically he sometimes even gave Devon a run for his money. On top of his stellar intellectual pursuits though, he was an athletic star unlike any other.

Like a polyglot learns languages or a prodigy instruments, anytime Lip encountered a sport or game he had yet to play, in an hour's time he would be schooling whoever showed him the ropes. He could do it all, he did do it all. He had every right to look down on Devon. And yet ever since their first meeting Lip has been nothing but kind and respectful. He has been a beacon of warmth to Devon as he adapted to this cold, often hostile new university life.

So why does he fill Devon with such dread?

“Y’alright buddy? Dev?” 

Devon shakes out of a stupor he didn’t even know he was in and finds himself staring directly at his roommate, his self-proclaimed best friend, Lip. He smiles awkwardly, as he does most things, and apologizes, “Jeez yeah- too many late nights I guess, sorry Phillip.”

Lip grins, perfect smile gleaming as he walks over to ruffle Devon’s hair. The meek man desperately tries to hide how he freezes up under the faultless man’s touch, something he’s well practiced in after their few years living together. While both are quite busy with the rigor of their course schedules, Lip even more so with his athletic and social commitments, in their free time it was rare to see one without the other. 

Outside observers would be quick to pin Devon a hanger on, but in reality Lip goes out of his way to be near his roommate whenever the opportunity presents itself. Which, given Devon’s proclivity towards static study is fairly often. An entire floor of the campus’ library had become something of a popular haunt due to Devon, and by proxy Lip, frequenting it and attracting the true hangers on of the Wellington golden boy.

For the life of him, Devon can’t understand why a man that anyone in their right mind would describe as perfect would give him the time of day. Why he would care to spend time with him at all, let alone invite him on their family vacations. Since Devon stumbled into their dorm all those years ago and saw Lip hallowed by their cheap phosphorescent ceiling fan, he has done nothing but gone out of his way to ensure Devon would never feel lesser. It made the ever-antsy man feel like he was going insane.

“Man! Lost in your head again Dev? Gotta be a new record,” Devon feels the blush burning on his cheeks as he sees the same genuine smile that is almost always painted on Lip’s face. His blush is certainly not helped by the fact that Lip is halfway through changing into a flowy button up. Not that Devon’s gay of course, or whatever. He just wasn’t prepared to see his friend shirtless. Lip’s smile briefly flickers as he tilts his head before continuing, “Are you still down to head to the frat networking thing tonight?”

Devon groans for a few uninterrupted seconds. Shit- He knows he really should go, but truly nothing sounds more hellish than spending time with those money-bagged brutes. Eyes flicker and something in his chest flutters as he looks to his roommate, at least Lip will be there. The thought is buried without reflection, “Yeah…  Yeah, I’ll go with you-”

“Sweet!” Lip’s smile fades for the smallest moment and he quickly goes to smell his pit before grimacing, “Oof I better hit the shower before though-” The Adonis reaches to grab his shirt by the hem and lifts it over his head with effortless grace, perfectly displaying his waist and sending a gulp down Devon’s throat. Looking down at his roommate with a wink, Lip grabs a hanging towel before rushing into the bathroom, “Be out in 30, you don’t need a shower before the thing too do ya?”

Face angled down, pointedly not looking at Lip as he unbuttons his pants Devon shakes his head and doesn’t see his roommate’s carefree shrug. Finally, when the door closes and Devon hears the shower running, he sighs and feels secure enough to raise his eyes again. With Lip away Devon feels his attention drawn to the discarded, apparently sweaty shirt. His mouth goes dry.

Try as he might to distract himself, the pull the garment has on him is all-consuming. Devon is pulled to it like a mouth to the flame, his eyes struggling to stray just as they always fail to avoid staring at the back of Lip’s head. Comforted by the drone of the shower, he allows himself to step forward and grab the ever so slightly damp shirt, all the while repeating the mantra ‘I’m not gay’ in his head.

Such thoughts are put on hold as he reaches down to grab it, finding the shirt still slightly warm from being worn by Lip. Moreover he feels his hands are sticky with sweat as he lifts it up, unsure why he is doing this or what he is to do with it next. Devon gulps as he realizes just how large it is. It’s of no surprise of course, Lip is so much larger than him. The Achilles to his Pat- er no that’s not right. All these classics classes are rotting his mind.

Devon bites his lip almost to the point of drawing blood as he feels his fingers rest on the damp left behind by Lip’s pits. Before he even knows what he’s doing he thrusts his face into the shirt and takes a deep sniff. Quicker than he can consciously think, his body reacts to this with delight more than he thought possible. In his mind he reflexively pictures his perfect roommate on the green chasing down a soccer ball, working up a sweat as he climbs trees just for the fun of it, sprinting down the university’s track to set a new high jump record. 

Devon’s heart flutters as he is so easily able to recollect the man’s splendor, his success. Burned into his psyche clearer than anything, Devon sees Lip. He sees his brilliant smile, feels his rough palms, smells the memory of his sweat overpowering expensive cologne as powerfully as he smells both on the shirt clutched to his face. This is not enough, he needs more. His mouth waters as he imagines the exposed happy trail, sees a few curls extending past the edge of Lip’s sleeve, hears an echo of his loud lilting laughter. Devon needs to be him, Devon needs him. 

Comforted by the sound of the shower still running, Devon loosens his white-knuckled grip on the shirt and moves to stand in front of a mirror. Throwing off the graphic tee he had on, he moves quicker than he has in years to throw on Lip’s shirt. It hangs limply from his thin shoulders and onto his flat chest, the sleeves fall well past his fingertips. He feels the cold patch of sweat about halfway down his sides where the garment apparently clung to Lip’s pits. 

He pulls the placket tight to feel the shirt strain against his thin back, desperately willing the shirt to fit him. Wishing more than anything it was skin tight as it fit on Lip. Wishing he were man enough to fill it.

Staring at his reflection he sees nothing but the fool he is. The phoney he always has been. He sees his eyes begin to water as his face burns with embarrassment, with envy, with a need to be someone else. With an oppressive hunger to be more like Lip, to be Lip.

Clenching his eyes shut to avoid crying outright, the sound of the running shower fades into silence as he loses himself to his memories, his obsessive recollections once more. Burned into his eyes before the sting of tears can overwhelm him he sees how the waist of the shirt hung low, almost to his knees. And then he flashes back.

It was early on in their relationship, Devon was still unpacking his things as they moved into their first dorm. He had probably spent about half a minute trying to reach something on top of their bookshelf before Lip sidled over to lend a helping hand. Guarded more than could possibly be healthy, Devon almost scoffs before grumbling out a thanks. Turning to look up at Lip, he sees his new roommate scratching the back of his head in as awkward a manner as he’s probably capable, “Sorry Devon- I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself or-”

“It’s fine! It’s whatever.” 

 Refusing to let it rest, and unaware that Devon’s size is obviously an insecurity, Lip continues, “How tall are you anyway?” Devon’s brow twitches into a scowl as he prepares to snap before turning to see a look of genuine care and curiosity on his new roommate’s face. Thrown for such a loop he answers as he always does, falsely, “No it’s fine I’m uh, 5’9” Lip looks the student up and down and knows he can’t be taller than five seven. Devon simply banks that no one cares enough to call him on the matter, usually a safe bet.

The deceit bothers Lip though, quickly he moves to rest a hand on Devon’s shoulder before his new roommate can flinch away. Lip looks him intently in the eyes, “You shouldn’t lie about your height Dev. You shouldn’t feel the need to.” Devon feels the hand twitch on his shoulder as Lip considers moving it into a caress or pulling him into a hug before he instead takes a step back to give him room, “You don’t need to care about what others think of you buddy.”

The conversation dogged him then almost as much as it does now. All this time later he still cannot get over how affected he was by Lip’s kindness. How much he immediately longed to help him, to be his friend. His intense stare, the warm hand perfectly resting its weight on his shoulder, if Devon focuses he swears he can feel it there now, comforting him. Ugh! It’s driving him insane. 

Opening his eyes he sees himself in a mirror, just as he was before. A reflection of his playing dress-up. Shaky hands resting on the counter and then he sees it. Or no? No, the image has changed? It must be in his head, it has to be. And yet, as he stares at the mirror, he would swear the shirt seems to be fitting him better. Making an effort he goes to stand up straight and sees the button up pull a few inches higher, he feels himself take up more space in the room. 

Covering his mouth with a hand, Devon gasps and poses to find himself standing at least 5’9. No. Even taller. His eyes alight with wonder, but there’s no time to question this miracle as he realizes the sound of the running shower has stopped. Then he hears the turning of a door handle and sees steam pouring out from the bathroom door opening as Lip returns, towel wrapped around his waist and sculpted body bare to the world “Don’t remember if you needed to shower too but you’re all good now Dev!”

Shaking his hair dry like a dog, only then does he notice Devon guiltily staring at him, “Oh! That my shirt buddy? Coulda just asked-” Not a hint of judgement or suspicion on his face. Though he’s stunned from shock as Devon runs over and grabs him by his arms, never has the man ever gone out of his way to touch him fully clothed. For him to even look at him while he’s basically nude must mean something is seriously amiss. 

“Phillip. Do you notice anything different about me?” Lip looks him up and down with a shy smile, tightening the towel hiding his modesty as he does so, “Uhhh, not really Dev?” Devon releases his grip as he too realizes how out of character the action was, “Look! I’m clearly taller!” 

Lip tilts his head and looks closely, Devon sees his furrowed brow and for a moment it seems like he’s going to agree, but then his eyes get glassy. With a grunt Lip blinks hard a couple times and then whatever confusion that lay behind his eyes is gone, his expression returned to the usual perfect smile that rests upon his face, “What do you mean buddy? We’ve always been the same height!”

Devon blanches. Looking down he realizes that as he was so honed in on Lip that he didn’t even notice as he sprouted taller once more. He feels the cool air of their dorm room on his ankles as his legs have clearly lengthened, sees his wrists peeking from the sleeves of a shirt that now seems almost too short for his lanky arms. Gasping, he almost falls back from realizing that he is currently making direct eye contact with Lip, a man who has always stood over a head taller than him. In fact he would have fallen, had his roommate not been ready to catch him.

Devon feels the man’s slightly damp arm holding him aloft, he quietly apologizes, knowing that Devon is usually touch averse. “Sorry Dev.” In the rush to catch him, their faces rest but an inch apart from each other. Both men freeze. Devon smells Lip’s minty, warm breath and is faced with a need more pressing than he’s ever felt before. Fortunately for him, Lip’s down-turned eyes and wanting mouth provide no illusion that he craves anything but the same. 

It’s not clear who moves first as their mouths meet. It doesn’t matter as they both lean in and for the first time since they met, Devon feels peace. Even the hysteria of his suddenly sprouting almost half a foot taller cannot stir him from the bliss and contentment he finds in the embrace of Phillip Wellington. When he glides across the man’s brilliant teeth with his tongue and feels his counterpart do the same, Devon finally opens his eyes to see Lip's tanned face far too close for comfort, see his lashes quiver as he somehow finds similar delight in Devon’s mouth. 

And he pushes away.

Devon falls to the floor, causing a clamor louder than either man expected. Scrambling on the floor he gasps deeper breaths than his thin torso should be able to manage. His vision flashes white from taking in more oxygen than he’s ever done before. Hands that moments ago were clutching and rubbing the bare muscled back of Lip now fly to his own chest as his expanding lungs burn, only to find resistance where there should be none. 

Fingers inching under the borrowed shirt scrape against the bulging muscle fibers of pecs beginning to form. As Phillip reaches out a helping hand as he has done on countless occasions in the time they’ve known each other, Devon skitters away, doing everything short of smacking the hand as he struggles to push himself back using his legs alone, crying out in a voice cracking deeper, “WhAT’s happening to me PhILip!” 

Lip, not used to being caught off-guard, struggles to come up with a game plan as he’s distracted watching Devon’s exposed ankles prickle with hair as hitherto non-existent calves begin to press against his pants. Staring hungrily as wider feet press against cheap tennis shoes, filling them almost to bursting as Devon tries to crawl onto his bed. Lip’s mind is torn between two worlds, just as Devon seems to be torn between two selves. He struggles to remember which Devon he knows to be real, the quiet one sheepishly sneaking peeks at him from behind a textbook, or the one that seems to be bursting forth before him.

Crying out as his vocal chords thicken and expand, Devon’s deepening grunts cover the unpleasant sounds of his back cracking as it widens to fill Lip’s shirt. Ribs pushing out and giving him a thick chest that anyone would envy, that he should envy. Memories flash through his mind from years of hungrily staring at Lip’s pecs are interrupted with just as many instances of staring at his own massive chest in gym mirrors. Posing alongside his lov- friend, flexing and playing with a meaty chest. His eye twitches as sees a clear memory of Lip sucking on his larger nipples before gasping and returning to the present moment, hands clenching his bedsheets.

Looking at them, Devon is again stunned with images forcing their way through his mind like a reel. He can’t tell what is real or imagined, he feels himself being topped by Lip. And then he sees Lip’s tanned hands pulling at the bedsheets as he clutches the man’s pecs from behind. Yanking at his blonde curls, he hears heady breaths from his deeper chest. Feels the sweat, smells the man’s natural musk. 

In reality his hips reflexively rut against the bed as he cries out Lip’s name in between drooling grunts, “Lip, help-” For the first time in all their knowing each other that he opts to not use the man’s full name, breaking Lip out of his strange lull. Seeing the man quivering against his bed frame, ass suddenly filling out his pants as they begin to tear, Lip can’t help but get distracted. He’s always been drawn to his bookish er- brawny roommate, but facing the man as he grows he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to hold back.

His excitement makes itself known as under the towel barely hanging onto his own gyrating waist, there’s a clear, throbbing outline of a cock that could do with some attention. One that Devon finds precisely at eye level as he turns on the spot, “Lip. I need your grgh-,” the words dance as he has trouble controlling his still thrusting form, abs bursting onto his torso give him power enough to push off his bed with ease. Which he does, exercising his new burning strength.

Head light from vertigo, he takes his first stumbled step forward and falls once more into the arms of Lip, his face squarely pushed against the man’s dewy pecs. Looking up to find Lip staring into him with nothing short of total desire, biting his lip with a fervor, Devon struggles to not totally give in to whatever alien drive is pulling them together,“Look we- we can’t, I’m not supposed to be like this!” 

It’s unclear if Lip is even listening as he whines from the feeling of Devon’s bare skin against his own. Shaking with the effort of holding back, he allows his towel to fall to the ground, gasping as his cock bobs free, forcefully bumping into Devon’s barely contained package. Looking down to see Lip’s exposed growing rod, Devon feels his ability to keep his hardening cock and growing lust under control waning.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up. As he feels his traps bulging and arms bulking, he wonders if he even wants to anymore. There’s only a hint of lucidity behind Lip’s eyes as Devon makes his appeals, and with each needy throb of his package, every scratch of Lip’s hands against his back, every sweaty breath against his torso even that meagre show of willpower begins to fade.

“I’m not some muscle-bound hunk like you Lip! I’m just dweeb! I’m your little pet project!” Lip shakes his head slowly, and with each rotation Devon changes even more, biceps shaping up to be even larger than Lip’s. He feels them strain the shirt and grunts as he is unable to ignore the continuing changes. Lip would never call him a pet project, to Lip they were friends, just friends. Not divided by status, Lip never looked down on him.

“Okay whatever! We’re friends, right? Just friends!” Lip’s mouth falls open, wanting to take a bite, give a hickey, drink in Devon’s saliva, taste his sweat. Devon’s heart skips a beat as his chest feels a pang of need, are they just friends? His jaw squares out, shaping into something impossibly masculine, powerful and sharp. One of Lip’s hands forces itself under his shirt to rub his back as muscle continues to pack on. The other makes its way all the way up to play with Devon’s hair as it changes from the same cut he has gotten his whole life. Changing from one deliberately unassuming to a cut that heightens his masculinity, displays his status. One that looks just like Lip’s

He remembers when Lip took him to the barber shop his parents always took him to, being introduced to men that have known Phillip his whole life. He remembers being introduced as Dev, ‘my boyfr-” No. that didn’t happen, that can’t have happened. And yet he feels his haircut change to something posh and preppy. Something like that which he has always adored on Lip’s head. Oh how he adores him.

His mouth is a millimeter away from kissing his perfect man, the perfect man once more, something he knows would spell the end of life as he knew it. But as the seconds pass in the grasp of Lip, as his hands unconsciously free his cock from its captivity, he can scarcely remember which life lived is even the real one. He’s still Devon, he’s still a student who fought his way here from the south, he’s still intelligent. Still hotter than anything. His head tilts as Lip moves in for another kiss. And for the life of him he doesn’t know why a small part of him objects at all. 

He allows Lip to tear the shirt off him before tackling him onto the bed, almost growling with need as they fuck like it’s the first time they ever have, despite clearly having done so innumerable times. Every burning muscle on Dev’s sweaty body feels brand new as they stretch and trust like they never have before. The bed frame creaks under the weight of both men as their twins burst together into a king size bed befitting the new titanic couple. 

Their wardrobes combine as Dev finds himself far more accustomed to dressing just like Lip. Graphic tees and baggy pants vacate to make room for clothes exactly like Lip wears, if not a tad larger what for Dev’s preference to be bulkier than his, only relatively, lithe lover. Memories of cowering in the shadow of his perfect roommate totally disappear as instead he clearly recalls always standing by the nothing-but-kind man’s side. Dev and Lip are a pair as they always have been, and if they have their druthers, as they always will be.

When the third alarm goes off warning the pair to quit their fun and get ready for the impending networking event for their frat, Lip finally pushes Dev towards the shower, “C’mon now there’re gonna be associates of father there Dev, we’ve gotta look our best!” His lover rolls his eyes and laughs at Lip’s disheveled hair, “Think you might need a touch up there too Mr. Wellington-”

Forcing up Lip’s arm to get a good smell of his b.o. He smirks and mocks his boyfriend, who just like himself, smells unmistakably of sex, “Ooh man- And another shower for yourself I think?” Turning on the faucet he directs Lip in first, “two birds one stone?” Lip rolls his eyes before winking, “Never knew you were so concerned with efficiency there. As long as you’re able to control yourself so we might actually come out cleaner than we went in, you've got a deal.”

Following him in, it’s not long at all before Dev’s pressing his boner into his lover’s back. Lip just smiles and turns before pulling his head down to shampoo the massive man’s sweat-stained hair. Afterwards he grabs him by the jaw and shakes his head, playfully complaining, “You little horndog, what am I going to do with you…” 

Despite Dev’s best attempts to have some fun, the pair eventually get all washed up and head out to the door only a few minutes later than planned. Dressed as well as they can be with what limited time they had, they wander off to the event hand in hand, as they almost always are. For the first time in years Dev is not burdened by his obsession, not held back by his denial. He finally allows himself to take advantage of the life he has found himself in, to feel the love of the man he has found himself with.

Lip of course never felt on anything besides equal footing with his roommate. While the Devon of the past may eventually have shed his self-conscious nature on his own, that he was blown out of his shell supernaturally is all the better for his relationship with the Wellington scion. As they catch the eyes of every guest at the party, no one can say they are not perfect for each other. Feeling his hand clasped in Phillip’s, Dev smiles as he is finally able to feel peace.

[centrally-unplanned]

I really enjoyed this video by Angela Collier as someone who is of the "Feynman Bros" generation without being a member of the thing itself. I was of course part of the "XKCD science nerd culture" of the 2000's where he was a valorized figure, but never read any of his books, and generally just wasn't a science person in general so the whole vibe didn't appeal. I certainly noticed the 2010's culture shift where people - rightly so in my opinion - noticed that many of his "anecdotes" were casually misogynistic or harassing. I know both sides of the track here decently well without having any stake in it.

So it was quite shocking to me to learn - spoilers - that Feynman never wrote a single book. Every one of those texts with his name splashed on it is by someone else, and sometimes with quite minimal involvement by him! He had this weird coterie of fans who just loved his stuff so much they collected his anecdotes, recorded lectures, and so on, and made books out of them, often well after the fact. And of course at certain point "cashing in" on the brand took over.

Which leads, inexorably, to the fact that it is a little difficult to glimpse the "real" Feynman, because half of the published stuff is just made up. Surely You're Joking is the exaggerated stories of a 50 year old man trying to impress a 20-something dude with how cool he is, telling tales decades after they happened. I had never read the book, so hearing direct quotes from it of Feynman "pretending to speak a language he didn't and being So Clever he tricked his audience" are just...obviously not true? What the fuck are you talking about??? The best part for me is that the book, of stories from the life of a physicist, never involves...other physicists. It is always random people at a bar or hotel. Because, you know, they can't contradict them? The one time he did name someone, Murray Gell-Mann, in a story, Murray objected on the grounds that it was false and they were forced to change it! You had one job and you fucked it up, person-who-isn't -Feynman-pretending-to-be-Feynman-while-writing-the-book.

This is very much a video in my wheelhouse of cultural history - Feynman is just a guy. His brand, like all brands, is manufactured, and so there is a story behind how it was manufactured & why. I think I can see Feynman's rise as part of the general rise of "nerd culture" that accelerated in the 1980's, and the very deep need to both be "pure" nerdy (something finally dropped in the late 2000's) but also cool, to fight back on the rep. A womanizing scientist deeply appealed at that time, one who can Have It All. The idea of being the Smartest Guy In The Room was admirable, not insufferable. Then times changed, and the whole edifice can be a bit cringe. With, of course, a real person behind it all that one has to sift through to see.

Also, you do sometimes look at the past and go "man, people really did act differently back then". And that is true! But part of that story is that people just felt way more comfortable bullshitting you about it. Makes it a bit hard to say how things really were.

[lovegreenie]

Love, Copycat | NSH Riki | 西村 力

synopsis. 3 times you wonder why Riki likes copying you, and the 1 time you realize why

pairing. bsf! riki x fem! reader

tags. fluff, reader is oblivious, college! au, extremely self-indulgent, reader is a bit of a nerd, Riki indulges her nerdiness… a little too much, childhood friends to almost lovers (they’re getting there), attempt at comedic narration

essie's ✉️. “Soft Spot” by Keshi inspired this (I was possessed by it while writing this actually) Also please tell me someone has this as their love language too like it’s got such a special place in my heart:( And thank you to bestie @sweethoneyjays for beta reading !!

wc. 2.9k

Copycat.

It’s what you’ve always called Riki.

It’s his contact name on your phone, it’s the name you use whenever you talk about him, and it’s the name you call out whenever any minor inconvenience graces you with its presence.

Like right now.

“Mm?” He hummed in response when you groaned out your little nickname for him, his eyes never leaving the switch in his hands as he lay sprawled across your bed. 

All you could do in that moment was let out a sigh as you went slack against the backrest of your desk chair, your head hanging from its edge while you stared at the ceiling.

“I thought I’d love it, I truly did. It's a mystery, has secret societies, a commentary on classism and misogyny; everything I love in a book,” you said as you picked up the one on your desk and looked at it with contempt, “so why can’t I get through this one? It’s barely 500 pages.” 

Riki paused his game to walk over and sit on the ottoman you keep by your desk. You handed over the book for him to check out, and he mumbled as he read the title on the cover.

“Can’t you just do your assignment on ‘Babel’? It’s the same genre, has a secret society, explores the same problems, and it’s dark academia like this one, no?” He handed the book back to you after he finished reading the synopsis.

You blinked at him.

“You’ve read… ‘Babel’? As in… 1830s Oxford, the power of translation, daddy-issues-Robin ‘Babel’?”

There was a hint of confusion and amusement behind your surprised look, and a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You never took Riki to be a book-worm in the nine years you’ve been friends, never once saw him pick up a book if it wasn’t for school.

At this point, you were less upset with your professor’s poor literary choice for your first assignment of the term, and more so delighted by the fact that your best friend had read what is probably your all-time-favorite book by your all-time-favorite author.

Unprompted.

Riki huffed out a little laugh as he got up and plopped back onto your bed, not before annoying you with a hair ruffle though.

“Yeah well it’s the only book you’ve been carrying around since last year. You’ve even filled it up with tabs and annotations” He resumed his game as he continued to talk.

“If it was good enough for you to keep around that long after finishing it, I figured I’d give it a shot.”

You didn’t know how to respond.

A comforting silence blanketed the both of you like it usually did when you guys would hang out, the sound of his game being the only thing filling in the space between the two of you.

All you did was stare at the switch-occupied boy on your bed, thinking his answer would make sense if you did.

You stared, and you stared, and you stared,

but to no avail.

You sat up properly and turned back to face your desk, opening the book to the page you left your bookmark on, and started to read like you weren’t just complaining about it a minute ago.

“Copycat…” You murmured to yourself, your reddened cheek pressed against the palm of your hand, elbow settled down on your desk.

Riki explained himself like that was the most normal course of action ever… and you know what? Maybe it is.

For him at least.

It’s then that you realize that you really shouldn’t be surprised at this point, not when it’s happened so many times before.

It is how he earned his nickname after all.

The birth of “Copycat” happened about two years into your friendship, some time in between grades 9 and 10, with your 9th grade second semester English finals being the catalyst of it all.

You were working on your paper during lunch break, stationed in front of one of the library computers as you scribbled down notes and did your research.

“I didn’t realize watching cartoons was considered data gathering.”

You pulled out your earphones and paused the show that was playing on the monitor. The sight of Riki and his teasing smile greeted you when you turned around in your seat.

“We’re tasked to do a literary analysis, Riks,” you gestured towards the computer screen while hitting him with a deadpan look, “and this cartoon is literature.”

Your retort didn’t wipe the playful grin off his face, instead it only served to widen it. Riki sat himself in front of the computer next to yours, setting his bag down on the floor as he switched on the CPU.

“What’re you in the library for?” You asked as you put your earphones back in.

“‘M also doing my English paper.”

“On?”

“‘Weathering With You’.”

“And yet you have the audacity to come at me for watching a cartoon for my finals,” you quipped and shook your head disapprovingly, earning a soft chuckle from him. “Tsk tsk tsk.”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just call ‘Weathering With You’ a cartoon for the sake of our friendship,” Riki feigned offense, to which you fondly rolled your eyes.

“What’s…” He leaned towards your screen for a second to get a better look, “What’s ‘Voltron’ about anyway?”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, opened a whole can of worms.

You went on a tangent about how you have a love-hate relationship with the show, about how poorly the writers treated the plot and the individual arcs of two characters, and about how the main romance was bullshitted and didn’t even make sense—a tangent that lasted 10 minutes at the very least.

You were hit with a belated sense of embarrassment by the end of your little spiel, realizing that you just kept rambling on about the what-should-have-beens of a space lion cartoon.

You were about to either apologize or thank Riki for sitting through all of that, but he did you one better by asking;

“Is it cool if I watch with you?”

You were slightly taken aback; you weren’t expecting him to ask if he could watch your silly little show with him.

That’s how you two ended up spending the rest of that day’s lunch period in the library, sharing your earphones as the rest of Voltron’s season 3 played on the computer screen, Riki’s own research for his finals be damned.

Now, how exactly did this little library watch party serve as the catalyst for “Copycat”?

Well a week later, he came up to you saying that he watched the rest of the show. You didn’t think much of it besides being happy that Riki picked up one of your interests, now getting to geek out about the show with him; but then you noticed he started doing that with every other interest you’d mention from then on out.

You found out on a random Tuesday that Riki started liking a band that you absolutely love but only mentioned in passing; you were hanging out in your house, in the middle of Just Dance, when Riki brought up getting into that one movie series you talked about the week prior; and you were walking side by side one afternoon, Bisco in between both of you, when Riki told you that he picked up a hobby of yours.

“Copycat,” you muttered for the first time, right after he told you he tried that egg tart you really like from the bakery near your high school.

It was summer break. The both of you had just gone for a couple of rides around your neighborhood on your bikes, and now you guys were sitting curbside, cooling off with popsicles.

“What? You don’t like that I like what you like?” Riki asked as he took a bite out of his tangy ice lolly, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“No no, I never said that; I’m happy you’ve been refining your taste,” you quipped back with a smirk as you licked your own treat, “but that doesn’t make you any less of a copycat.”

The humming of cicadas filled the silence between the two of you, and for a while you simply appreciated the way the trees swayed and the way speckled sunlight hit the pavement you were sitting on. 

You didn’t think about how the both of you would still carry that silly off-handed nickname years later, well into your sophomore year of uni.

You never stopped to wonder why.

Why Riki kept copying you, to be specific.

It’s not like you minded, far from that actually—though you’d never admit to that and give up the fondly annoyed front you put up with him.

You were simply curious.

And so were Jake and Sunoo, apparently.

“No, because you’d have to strap Riki to a chair if you want him to actually watch something.” Sunoo explained, exasperation laced in his voice.

“That isn’t an exaggeration, by the way,” Jake chimed in, “we had to hold him down just so he’d watch ‘Love, Rosie’ with us.”

“You’re serious?” You laughed at the thought of Riki being held down exorcist-style just for a movie.

The three of you had been doing uni work in a cafe for about two hours at that point, hunched over your laptops and lecture notes while sipping on watered down iced coffee. Your much needed study break came in the form of Riki slander.

“I honestly don’t know how you do it.” Sunoo sighed as he closed his laptop.

“Hmm?” You hummed in response, not quite sure what he was referring to.

“You know, getting Riki to do the things you like with you.”

“Yeah whenever he gets into something new or recommends something to us, we ask him how he found out about it and he’d say ‘She likes it, so I thought I’d give it a shot too.” Jake added.

“Oh-”

You didn’t really know how to answer that, because you never had to ask Riki in the first place.

“Well if I’m being completely honest, I don’t. He just…” You vaguely gestured to nothing, “does it himself lol.”

The apples of your cheeks went pink and you tried to play it off coolly by pretending to write notes down, but it was too late because Sunoo already had a knowing smile on his face.

Jake was about to ask Sunoo why he was grinning from ear-to-ear when Riki arrived, immediately sitting next to you and greeting you with a pinch on your cheek. You pretended to swat it away but made no real effort to get him off you.

“Copycat,” You greeted with a blank tone, acknowledging his arrival without having to look at him, not with your face all red.

“Hello, Shortie.” Riki greeted back with a fond smile before he turned to face the two other boys at the table, “My dear hyungs.”

Jake went in for a dap, and Sunoo just rolled his eyes.

“Why’re you late? We’ve been here for two hours already.” Sunoo scolded, though there wasn’t any real bite to his words.

“Sorry, should’ve texted you guys; Sola needed help with homework, and my older sister needed a ride to her part-time.” Riki explained as he set down a box in the middle of the table.

“I also took a detour and bought snacks for you guys.” He added as he opened the lid. You looked at the box and sure enough, it was from that bakery you mentioned to him all those years ago. The sight of the egg tarts’ golden caps and the smell of their buttery crust felt like a hug from a dear old memory.

Jake immediately grabbed a tart, and Sunoo did a little happy dance before thanking Riki (he even threw in a “you should be late all the time if you’re gonna buy us snacks like this~”)

“Oh my God these are amazing.” Sunoo groaned as soon as he took a bite, face crumpling in what looked like anger from how good the tart was.

“Where did you buy these?” Jake asked, equally as impressed by the little pastry in his hands.

“A bake shop near our old high school,” Riki answered simply.

He pulled out a tart from the box and handed it over to you, a soft smile on his lips as he glanced your way. “These tarts are her favorite, and the bakery was en route to here so…”

Riki didn’t finish his sentence, instead opting to dig into an egg tart himself as he opened up his notes and started to work.

You were too surprised by his last statement that you forgot to take a bite out of the treat in your hands.

It tasted a lot sweeter and felt a lot warmer since you’ve last eaten it. And no, it’s not because the bakery switched up their recipe.

You started to understand why; why Riki kept copying you, for that matter.

And it only took one last push in the right direction for you to fully come to your senses.

“You’re not getting anything?” Riki asked. He followed closely behind you as you browsed the shelves of the music shop you guys were in.

“Not today at least,” You answered, eyes still focused on the jewel cases in front of you, “I just wanted to check the place out to see if they’ve got any of the albums I’m looking for.”

“I saw Big Thief and The Marias back there.” Riki mentioned.

“Yeah, I did too.” You smiled.

“They’re definitely on my list; I just need a little more time to save up so I can buy a few of the CDs I want in one go.” You explained as you placed back a Sade album on the shelf. “I kinda want to have more than one album on hand with me; more variety, y’know?”

The both of you left the music shop empty-handed that day.

On a bus ride home from uni about two weeks later, Riki asks you if you’ve saved up enough to buy the albums you want.

“Not yet, almost there though,” You answer simply before sporting a cheeky smirk, “Why? Want to buy them for me instead?”

“Please, if I had that kind of money, it’d go straight to my Steam wishlist.” Riki mused.

“Ahhh yeah, Hades 2…” You sucked in a breath.

“Exactly.”

There’s a momentary silence between you two, filled up by the humming of the AC unit and the thrumming of the engine.

“Why’d you ask anyway?” You asked, looking out the window.

“Hmm? Oh- uhhh…” Riki stammered for a bit as he rummaged through his bag. He pulled out a CD before handing it over to you.

You looked at the jewel case in Riki’s hand and then at him.

“What’s this?” You asked as you slowly took it from him and scanned the front cover. 

It read, “Love, Copycat,” with a drawing of you below it.

Before he could even answer, you realised what it was.

“I uh… made you a playlist,” Riki said in a hushed and bashful tone, a contrast to his usual confident and playful demeanor. “I thought I’d make you one while you saved up for the albums you want. You seemed pretty excited about using that CD player.”

You felt a pang in your heart when you looked up to see the sincerity in Riki’s eyes and in his shy smile.

“I added all your favorites—Clairo, The Japanese House, Adrienne Lenker.” He tapped the case in your hands, and his timid grin made way for a little pride to shine through, “I even drew a little portrait of you for the cover.”

You couldn’t stop looking at Riki. You were consumed by the thought of him going through the effort of buying the blank CD and jewel case, curating the playlist, downloading the songs, burning them into the disc, and making a custom cover—a hand-drawn portrait of you.

And then it hit you, all in one go.

Oh.

I’m stupid.

All those shows he watched, those hobbies he tried, those songs he listened to—all those interests he wouldn’t have been within a 10-foot radius of if it wasn’t for you;

He wasn’t copying you.

Riki did all that for you.

To say that he tugged at your heartstrings would be the understatement of the century—he straight up yanked at them. You only realized then that Riki had your heart in the gentlest of  chokeholds, and you wished he’d never let go.

Thwack.

A flick to your forehead.

…Okay maybe you did wish he’d let go, just this once.

You rubbed the spot Riki struck as you stared daggers into him, “WHAT THE HELL MAN?”

“WHAT??? You were zoned out for ages,” Riki laughed, “had to make sure you were still alive.”

You shook your head and scoffed before your eyes landed on the jewel case in your hand, another wave of silence—this time bubbling with tension—washing over the both of you.

You hesitated for a moment, but for once everything was clear to you—how you feel, what you should do.

So you threw all caution to the wind and rested your head on Riki’s shoulder, a quiet “thanks” making its way past your lips.

Though you might’ve not seen it,  Riki bit back a smile in hopes that it would quell the pounding in his chest. Slowly, he reached for your hand and gently intertwined your fingers together.

Riki’s voice was barely above a whisper, it was only for you to hear the smile in his words.

“Took you long enough.”

[graciescott27]

Non-Disclosure Agreement! — M. Kaiser

Michael Kaiser slept with you once and now won’t leave you alone?!

Last Chapter! — Next Chapter!

CHAPTER ONE - L’AMOUR DE MA VIE!

cw: very clearly toxic, private relationship, friends with benefits but not really friends, Kaiser, suggestive in a few places, language, talks about drinking

Michael Kaiser x reader!

I promise it gets good guys chapter one is just kinda trash 🙏

mdni!

word count: 1k

Meeting Michael Kaiser was the sole reason you knew you had done some horrific act in your past life. At first he’s fun. He draws you in with his well-crafted words, his voice, his stories, his charm. Everything he said made him seem like a normal person. When you first meet him, he’s not Michael Kaiser, God’s Chosen Emperor. He’s not Michael Kaiser, scum of the earth. He’s Michael Kaiser, psychology nerd and possible alcoholic.

That was how you ended up stumbling into his bed half drunk on a random September night. He left his house long before you ever did, saying that he had training early. You didn’t understand why he trusted you, a total stranger, alone in his house. He was right to trust you, of course. You didn’t touch any of his stuff (despite how much you wanted to) and you left before 10 AM. The plan was to never come back. The night had been fun, sure, but it wasn’t smart to get involved with a football pro. That never ended well, and you were certain you wouldn’t be the one to actually have a relationship last with one of them. Kaiser had enough women to keep him entertained, anyways.

That was until you got a text from an unknown number asking to meet at the same bar you had met him at. Right. You had given him your number. God, drunk you was an idiot.

And with that, the torturous cycle had begun. Your face appeared to Kaiser’s neighbors every other week now. You knew his training schedule. He knew when all of your classes for university were. One of the rules, however, was that you never made an appearance at any of his games. A tragic order, really. You enjoyed football. Bastard München had been your favorite team since you were little. You had been to plenty of their matches long before Kaiser had joined the roster. But if that was how it had to be, you could settle for only watching them online.

A single one of your friends knew about him. You had only told her because of your “safe dating” plan. You shared your location with her at all times so she could make sure you weren’t in any danger. She had been in a relationship with the same man since high school. You would have kept track of her, too, if that wasn’t the case. She was the only one who knew how disgustingly frequent your trips to his house were.

He was always the one to text first. You didn’t think too much about him when he wasn’t inside of you, honestly. When a call reminded you of his existence, you were quick to meet him at that stupid bar. The past few weeks, there had been no call. He hadn’t texted you once. Since September, you had counted forty-seven calls or texts simply asking for your presence in his bed. It was now January. With how cold it was growing in Germany, you were surprised that he didn’t want the extra warmth.

The moment you realized it had been exactly 20 days since his last sign of life (which was also the moment you started to think he had died), there was a knock on your door. You had expected it to be him, but at the same time you had never told him where you lived. It was a bit more terrifying than surprising for his blue and blonde hair to appear when you opened the door.

“Am I dead?” you sighed. “Is that why Satan keeps sending his favorite child to me?”

“Flattering,” he rolled his eyes, walking straight past you through the door.

You scoffed at his flippant attitude and closed the door. “Mhm, sure. How did you find my house?”

“You told me the address one night. Figured it was your actual house,” he said. 

God, you were a stupid drunk.

The way he walked around your living room told you everything you needed to know about what kind of man Michael Kaiser was. He did not care. He did not see a single issue with his judgement of others. In your mind, he was the most narcissistic being to walk the planet.

“Oh, dear god, of course I did,” you sighed. You followed him to your couch, sitting down  right beside him.

He turned to face you completely. “I have a request.”

You couldn’t help but groan internally. “What?”

“Come to my next match,” he blurted before he could second guess anything. “I’ll set aside a ticket for you so you don’t have to pay. You’re probably drowning in student debt already, I doubt you could pay 300 euros. It’s against Spain. They’re pricks. I want you to meet this one Japanese one. He’s actually the most disgusting person I have ever met in my life. I hate him. You’ll probably like him, though, which is unfortunate.”

It was like the words wouldn’t stop pouring from his mouth. What was he even saying? You weren’t supposed to go to his games. You were t supposed to be seen together in public at all. Why was he promising to set aside a ticket for you? He wasn’t even nice to you when he was fucking you. He must have been possessed if he came to your house just to be nice.

“Why do you care about my opinion?” Was all you could manage to say.

He scoffed, effortlessly slipping back into his typical annoying persona. “Oh, no, I don’t. Gross. Why would I give a damn about what you think?”

“Mhm, okay then,” you nodded. “You’re inviting me out somewhere and not expecting it to end in sex. This is a first.”

“You’re a person with a brain,” he shrugged. He looked around your living room, trying to take in every detail. “People like events. This is an event. Im doing it out of the kindness of my heart.”

“Not possible for you.”

“Oh, yes, keep going about how I’m so unpleasant to be around and the bane of your existence,” he nearly laughed.

“Aw, I’m sorry. Is this not turning you on?” you raised a brow. It was always at least a little amusing talking to him. When the tension disappeared, a conversation was effortless.

“Not in any way, no.”

“Wow.”

Michael Kaiser was lucky he had a pretty dick or you wouldn’t have spoken to him after the second meeting.

— @graciescott27

[freak-accident419]

Movie Night

Josh Futturman x GN!Reader

Summary: An hour into a movie that Josh practically begged you to watch with him, the two of you end up fucking. Various interruptions occur, but that didn’t stop you from having a great time.

Word Count: 2.6k

Content: 18+ Smut, MDNI, gender-neutral reader, no specific genitalia for reader, oral (m!receiving), riding/cowgirl, missionary, sex on the floor, Josh is a silly nerd, slight fluff, silly sex/goofy smut #3: the silliness, Josh makes you watch an important scene in the middle of sex, you two fall off the bed :3

(A/n: this is my birthday gift to the lovely @wemnui!! ilyily sm girl, i hope this brightens your very special day <3 thank you to @stop-talking for this idea ehehehe :3 and thank you to everyone for your help, support, and love. enjoy!)

-

“I’m telling you, Y/n, it’s the most important movie in the entire franchise!” Your boyfriend, Josh, exclaims eagerly as he selects a film with the TV remote.

“Yeah, you’ve said that, like, a gazillion times already,” you chuckle softly, “I promised you I’d watch it with you already, didn’t I?”

Josh Futturman being your partner meant a lot of things: having to hear his constant video game/movie references, clingy cuddles, spontaneous and unlikely events, and genuine, sincere love. But with the complete Josh Futturman Package (or rather ‘Bundle,’ he preferred), it also came with his reluctant urge to introduce you to and ramble about his dorky interests. And you found it endearing, to say the least, seeing how passionate he could be about multiple things. It was extremely adorable to you to see him rant about the most random things, from epic sci-fi movies to the mediocrity of Super Mario Bros, that you practically viewed it as his own love language. Sure, kisses and cuddles and sex were all great, but you could hear him talk his mouth off about Biotic Wars for several days in a row. Which is what led you to this moment, essentially.

The two of you would frequently spend time indoors for movie nights, snuggled up in your bedsheets in the dark where the brilliant light from the screen illuminated your faces. Tonight, you were watching a movie that Josh had always been excited to show you for a while. The two of you, like always, laid comfortably on your mattress, covered warmly in your sheets as the movie began to play in front of you. Throughout the film, you watched intently, nodding at Josh’s comments, half of the time pretending to comprehend what he was talking about—it got a bit confusing, but you were willing to try to understand it for him.

Halfway into the movie, you felt a bit tired than usual, which made you curious since it wasn’t even that late in the night. Then you figured it was just the bright screen that overwhelmed your eyes. So you shifted your position to avoid falling asleep, yet ended up placing a leg over Josh’s from the side, his thigh now in between yours. And he didn’t notice, of course, as he was too fixated on the screen.

Even the slightest touch had adjusted your breathing. And it hasn’t even been a long time since you’ve had sex with your boyfriend, so you just figured you were turned on by how close you were to him.

Grunting quietly, you needed to pull your leg back to yourself, but instead, you would accidentally and briefly grind your crotch against his thigh.

Even the slightest touch had turned you on.

Fuck this, you thought.

You leaned in, beginning to pepper kisses across Josh’s neck, your lips lingering on the skin.

“What are y—mmmm,” he hums softly in pleasure as he feels you nibble on his sensitive areas, which was sure to leave red and purple marks.

“Baby,” you began breathlessly between each nip, “I’m lovin’ this movie, like, a lot. It’s as good as you’ve claimed, and I appreciate all of your info dumps and adorable little rambles about it, but,” you pant heavily, “fuck… I need you, baby… so bad…” Okay. So maybe kisses and cuddles and sex were just as great as his nerdy rambles.

“Shit—” Josh whined, grabbing your face firmly with his soft hands and pressed his lips desperately against yours.

Moving onto Josh’s lap, you blocked the TV from his view with your body as his hands shifted down to grip your waist. “Mph—” you tried to feel for the remote on the nightstand without breaking the kiss, stretching out your arm, “we can pause it—”

“Babe, I’ve memorized all the piss breaks in this movie.” Josh glances quickly at the TV behind you, then looked back at you. “And thankfully, it looks like we’re not gonna miss anything anytime soon,” he interjects eagerly, encapsulating your lips in a deeper kiss. God, how you were head over heels for this stupid nerd.

You began to help him remove his sweatpants, tugging them off his legs and throwing them on the ground. Your hands caressed his thighs in anticipation, pressing soft kisses to the skin. Your nibbles turned into soft biting then sucking, leaving hickeys as you saw the tight tent in his boxers.

Josh whimpered as you continued nipping his flesh, finally holding onto the waistband of his underwear go pull it off, his hard cock springing out instantly. Grinning to yourself, you began to place your hand over his shaft, slowly stroking him up and down.

“G-god… f-fuck…” Josh moans as his marked up thighs slightly trembled under you, his eyes half-lidded at the sensation. Your thumb reached up towards the pink, throbbing tip, smearing the slick precum around his slit, and gaining another higher-pitched noise from him. Then you finally held onto his plush thighs, squeezing them lightly in your palms as you took his cock in your mouth.

“A-ahh, Y/n—fuck,” he whined, placing his hands in your hair, tugging desperately at the strands as you slowly bobbed your head up and down, letting your tongue run along his length. His cock was the perfect size for you, and you admired him and his body so dearly, making sure that he knew exactly that with the help of your actions.

You pulled off briefly, releasing an arousing string of saliva between your lips and his glistening wet cock. Your hand moved back up to stimulate his length again as you moved your lips down to mouth his balls, licking and sucking at the soft skin. Josh bit his bottom lip intensely before your mouth switched places with your hand once again, wrapping it back around his shaft. “Shhhit—fuck!” He cries softly, now forcing your head down with his grip on your hair, lifting his hips up to thrust harshly into your mouth. You moaned at this, sending satisfying vibrations throughout his entire body, yet also gagged quietly from the sudden control.

He held your head tightly with his fingers tangled in your strands, pushing it down and thrusting desperately into your mouth. “Shit—” he whimpers frantically, his breathing becoming unstable as he let out several uneven pants. “Y/n! Fuck! Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, fuck—!”

The two of you moaned loudly as you felt exuberant ropes of his warm, white semen spurt deeply into your mouth, your nose pressed against his pelvis as you swallowed his entire release. Your lips that were wrapped around his cock continued to move along his length in order to help him ride his high.

“Fuck…” he muttered, pulling off his shirt desperately, then reaching for yours until your clothes were sprawled out messily and carelessly on the floor, the two of you completely naked with each other. Josh positioned you over his lap, lining up his hard, throbbing cock with your entrance. Then you finally sank down on him, feeling his shaft slightly stretch your hole, your walls wrapping around him soothingly.

“Oh, fuuuck,” you moan out, pressing your lips against his passionately, gently cupping his face in affection. Your foreheads were pressed together once you slowly began to rock your hips against his, letting his cock push further and further into you with every deep movement.

“Oh, shit—” Josh whines as your hands find his shoulders, holding onto him for dear life as you moved faster, practically bouncing on his dick. With every moment you sank down, your sensitive parts would grind against his firm pelvic bone, moaning from the pleasing and granting sensation. Your overlapping sounds of lust and arousal created a beautifully lewd symphony. As you rode him relentlessly, he cupped your ass firmly in one hand and grasped at your waist with the other, guiding your rapid movements on his cock.

As your body slammed down against him, his length caressing your sensitive walls with every thrust, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the small room. Your gaze on each other had stilled lustfully as you indulged in the noise of the fast, erotic pounding.

Suddenly, Josh slightly froze, and at the time, you couldn’t tell if he either saw or heard the movie scene from behind you, but he scrambled for the remote and seized your movements desperately. “Wait, wait, wait, fuck!” He whined as he rewinded the film, making you look back at the screen in utter confusion.

“Josh, what the hell—”

“This is the most important part of the whole movie!” He exclaims stressfully, making you pout as you sat vacantly on his cock, his length still deep inside of you.

“Josh—”

“Sh-sh-sh—Just watch!” He hushed, unpausing the movie, increasing the volume before setting the remote down.

A few minutes passed by as the two of you watched in this position.

And then…

“Holy shit!” You shouted in surprise, seeing Josh’s beaming expression. “What?!”

“I know,” he chuckles.

“You’re telling me—You’re telling me he dies?!”

“Yeah—”

“But—But he’s the most important character in the movie! Hell, he’s the main character, I don’t—” you scoff, yet with a slight, amused grin. “I mean, does it really end like that?! Him being killed by his stupid fuckin’ clone?!”

“Well, technically, yeah,” Josh shrugged.

“Shit,” you huffed, raising an eyebrow as the scene continued to play out, concluding with the end credits. Your boyfriend then paused the movie with the remote, looking at you with a soft, anticipatory grin.

“So…? What did you think?”

“That was… awesome, baby,” you giggle.

“Yeah? Wait, wait, seriously? You’re not just saying that because I love it, right?” He stammers before you cut him off with a deep, sweet kiss.

“It was genuinely amazing, my love,” you confirmed warmly.

“God, I fucking love you,” he grins, pushing you down on your back near the edge of the bed, pressing his lips against your mouth and then to your neck. “You’re, like, the coolest person ever,” he mumbles in between each affectionate nip before moving into you again.

“Ah, fuck—!” You whine softly as his cock fills you up again, moving at a much faster pace to begin with. Your legs involuntarily wrap around his back as Josh struggles to push even deeper inside of you. “Ah! J-Josh! H-Holy fuck!”

The bed began to creak and shake violently as the two of you moved together passionately together, striving to be even closer to each other. Your breathless moans filled the room as the sound of his cock ramming into your tight hole persisted.

“O-oh, fuck!” Josh cries as he continued deeply and swiftly ravaging your insides, desperately attempting to reach your sweet spot. His fingernails sink into your hips as you moan, legs tightening around him to bring him closer until the two of you rolled off the bed.

You two fell off the goddamn bed.

Josh was still inside of you, yet you were there lying on top of him. You stared at each other for a while before bursting out in blissful and elated laughter, burying your face in Josh’s neck. “Oh my fucking god,” you wheeze, pressing your lips affectionately to his skin.

“You’re so perfect…” he whispers softly, disregarding the embarrassing moment the two of you had, stroking your hair gently. “How did I get so lucky to have you?”

“Honestly?” You chuckle, lifting up your head to face him. “It was your sad, big hazel eyes and loser, cringefail personality that truly captivated me.”

Josh snickered, grabbing your face gently in his hands to peck your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous?” You scoff lightheartedly. “You’re the one who paused our literal fucking because I missed a scene in that nerd movie.”

“What? I thought you said you liked it,” he pouted.

You kissed his pout away. “Doesn’t mean it’s not nerdy.” You watched him frown and kissed him again. “But you know what? You’re my nerd. I love you.”

He was completely smitten with you, a red blush painted softly over his freckles. “I know.”

A Star Wars reference? Is he fucking joking? “If you don’t say it back, Han Solo, I’ll move off your dick and get off in the bathroom by myself.”

“No, no, no!” He whines, pressing his lips against yours passionately, slipping his tongue in your mouth to deepen it. “I love you too,” he mumbles.

Finally, you sat up, supporting yourself with your hands on Josh’s chest, his cock still snug inside of you. You watched his hands grip your waist as you finally started to move against him, slowly and sweetly this time.

“Fuck…” he whispers, trying to move his hips with yours as his length thrusted in and out of your needy hole. As you began to ride him, his dick would slide so easily and satisfyingly inside of you, brushing your walls with pleasure and warmth.

“Oh, yes…” you moan gently. “Oh, fuck…”

The two of you remained on the floor, your hips beginning to move faster after each thrust. Josh’s back arched as he pushed himself deeper inside of you, filling your hole completely. “Fuck,” he mutters.

“Josh! O-oh! Oh, fuck, baby…” your sweet sounds escaped your lips as your hips slammed into each other in unison, urgently bouncing on his hard, throbbing cock. “Ah-ahhh!”

You felt yourself getting closer, your own thighs trembling as Josh’s movements faltered. You placed your hand on the ground beside his head and lowered the rest of your body down to connect each other’s lips. You tasted him enthusiastically, kissing him with so much passion and lust while your movements began to stutter.

“I—fuck, I’m so close,” you mutter in between hot kisses.

“Mmm—fuck, Y/n, me too,” he whimpers, hips still trying to move up inside of you.

“Shit—cum for me,” you whisper gently as you were about to reach your release, “cum for me, baby…”

And just like that, your low, passionate words sent him right to the fucking edge.

“Ah—Y/n—Fuuuck!” He moaned loudly, arching his hips up as he pressed yours down against him, releasing deeply and heavily inside of you. His hot, thick cum painted your walls entirely, filling up your hole so generously in explosive bursts. The overwhelming, arousing feeling had prompted you to cum immediately right after him, holding his body close and tight to yours as you clenched around him completely. Instantly, your lips were reattached to yours, going limp and collapsing on top of him in exhaustion.

The two of you laid there on the floor, extremely spent, panting heavily and catching your breath. Strands of your hair were stuck to your sweaty foreheads as your heart beat almost rapidly.

“You… You’re amazing…” Josh mumbles with a giddy, flushed smile on his face.

You chuckled in response, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “Silly,” you mutter out, moving your head to rest it on his bare chest, getting a view of his belongings or junk under the bed. And then… “Is that—” Scoffing in awe, you stretched your arm out and grabbed a DVD case. “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Season 4? Babe, wh—”

“Hey, hey, that’s—” he stresses, throwing the case far away and out of your grasp. “That’s uh… That’s not mine.”

“Well, then who’s is it?” You raise an eyebrow with teasing grin.

Josh pauses then groaned in utter defeat. “Fine! Fine, it’s uh… it’s mine.” Before you could laugh or make another comment, he interjects, “But you don’t understand the very complicated and intricate lore of the whole series, okay? Sure, it seems like any other children’s cartoon full of mindless fillers and fluff pieces, but there’s so much more than that! Arguably, those ponies have gone through so much hell, and it’s like—you know?”

You smirked playfully, cupping the side of his face with one hand. “So what, are you gonna start forcing me to watch the whole series too?”

“No! No… I mean… It would be cool—but no!” He stammers hesitantly.

Your eyebrows relaxed as your grin widens. “Yeah, well… doesn’t matter either way because I already watched the whole series.”

His eyes widened, almost comically.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” you nod.

Josh pauses then let out a loud, yet delighted groan.

“Fuck, how could you get any more perfect for me?!”

[bettelaboure]

⊹The Box⊹ | Choi Seung-Hyun

fifth part in series "Course in Chemistry"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ Pairing: Choi Seung-Hyun x Reader

⊹ Warnings: sexual tension, explicit sexual content, embarrassment, mature language, peer pressure, and high school dynamics involving gossip and judgment

⊹ Summary: Y/N helps Seung-Hyun explore his sexual curiosity through an intimate and consensual encounter that begins with erotic media and leads to mutual physical exploration

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Jae-mi placed the oversized box on her front porch with a dramatic sigh, brushing her hands down the sides of her jeans as she straightened up.

 "How much do you even have in there?" you asked, squinting suspiciously at the box like it might start vibrating or emitting pheromones. It was that big.

"All the DVDs, magazines, and books that are going to sell out faster than Bible at a church book club. I’ve been posted by the door all morning, guarding the packages like a watchdog. If my mom had opened even one of them..." She shuddered theatrically.

You let out a low laugh, bending down to lift the box—and immediately questioned your life choices. "Jesus, are there bricks in here too?"

Jae-mi smirked and tugged her cardigan tighter against the sharp morning breeze. She tilted her chin at the box. "So? What’s your game plan? Any idea where you're gonna start?"

You paused. The truth? You hadn’t decided. Last night, you were too busy fantasizing about taking down Se-mi in a slow, deliciously petty unraveling of her perfectly curated little life.

That fire still simmered, but for today? You needed to be strategic. Needed certain tools. Certain people. And Choi Seung-Hyun was the centerpiece.

"...I don’t know. I’ll figure out what sparks his interest first."

She made a noise somewhere between a click and a tut and gave you that look like she was dying to say more—but held back. Good friend, that one. You pretended not to notice and grabbed your car keys from your hoodie pocket.

“Thanks again. Seriously.”

Jae-mi wiggled her brows. “No problem, my little sex demon. Now go rock this poor boy’s world—or his dick, if we’re being technical.”

You barked a laugh, flipping her off with a grin as you headed to your car. The box thudded into the trunk and, with a satisfying slam, your plan was officially in motion.

Choi Seung-Hyun’s house was quiet when you arrived. No cars in the driveway. Perfect. You hoped that meant both parents were out. 

You carried the sealed box up the front steps like you were delivering sin in cardboard form. Jae-mi had even taped it closed tight—thank god. Couldn’t have the neighbors seeing a stranger lugging a porn stash through the neighborhood like Santa’s pervy cousin.

You knocked three times, then adjusted the hem of your skirt and twirled a bit of your ponytail around your finger. Within seconds, you heard soft footsteps from inside.

Then the door opened—and there he was.

Tall. Wide-eyed. Caught off guard and looking dangerously adorable in a faded T-shirt and house slippers.

“Y/N?” Seung-Hyun blinked in disbelief. “What are you—”

“Oh, you thought ditching me Friday got you off the hook?” You didn’t wait for him to finish. You breezed past him and plopped the box onto his living room coffee table with a satisfying thud. “Nope. Nerd boy, we have a deal.”

He stood frozen in the doorway, completely lost.

“W-What are you doing here?” he stammered, eyes darting between you and the box like he thought it might explode.

“I told you,” you said, spinning on your heel to face him with hands on hips. “We. Have. A. Deal. Now, are you going to close the door, or should your neighbors get front-row seats to your sexual awakening?”

That got him. Seung-Hyun scrambled to shut the door, ears already burning pink. He fidgeted, mouth twitching like he wanted to explain something but didn’t know where to start.

“I just thought that…”

You cut him off, brow arched. “What, because I gave you your first orgasm I wouldn’t want to look at you again? Please. I’ve given plenty of boys orgasms. You’re not special.”

That clearly landed wrong. His expression twisted in embarrassment.

“I-It’s not that,” he mumbled. “It’s just… it was intense. And fast. And… messy.”

You paused, something soft blooming unexpectedly in your chest.

Poor boy.

No one had ever taught him. He’d probably been walking around thinking he was defective or weird, and now he was standing there, braving humiliation because he wanted to learn. You bit back the teasing for just a moment.

“Look,” you sighed, tugging your ponytail tighter. “I should’ve explained more. I just assumed you’d… y’know… handled yourself before.”

“I told you I’m a virgin,” he said, his tone low. “Why would I…?”

“I meant jerking off, Seung-Hyun.” You didn’t sugarcoat it.

His face turned crimson.

“Oh my god,” you said softly, piecing it together. “You haven’t. At all?”

He hesitated. His lips parted, then closed again. Then he gave a stiff little shake of his head. “No… I haven’t. I just…”

You stepped closer.

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice gentler now. “I'm not here to judge you. That’s not what this is. You’re literally helping me, remember? I’d never use this against you.”

“I’m just… scared, I guess,” he admitted, barely above a whisper.

That made your heart actually skip.

“Scared?” you echoed.

He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “I mean—I know how, technically. But when I think about actually doing it, I feel… weird. Like I’m going to do it wrong. Or—ugh, never mind.”

You reached out and gently touched his wrist. “Hey. I get it. But that’s why I’m here. We’re going to ease into it. No pressure. Just… curiosity.”

His dark eyes met yours, full of hesitance but also something warm. Trusting.

You turned back to the box and sliced it open.

Inside: six erotic novels, ten DVDs, a few wrinkled magazines, a box of condoms, and—dear lord—a tub of Vaseline.

You rolled your eyes. Thanks, Jae-mi.

Seung-Hyun leaned in and saw the contents—and instantly recoiled like he’d seen a live snake. “What—what is all this?!”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t pick it,” you said, holding up your hands. “It was Jae-mi.”

He blinked. “Jae-mi? As in… Jo Jae-mi?”

“Yep. My partner in crime. Don’t worry—she’s discreet.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. I never disliked her.”

You smiled. “Good. Now.” You rummaged through the stash and picked out three items: a lightly erotic magazine, a novel with individual short stories, and a DVD labeled Solo Male: Beginners Edition.

“This is your starter pack,” you announced, setting them down in front of him.

He gawked. “You want me to…?”

“Go upstairs,” you said gently. “Look through the magazine. Read the first chapter. Watch a bit of the DVD. You don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready. Just get comfortable. Learn what feels good. Learn what interests you.”

Seung-Hyun hesitated, then slowly picked up the stack, handling it like sacred scrolls. “And I’m going… alone?”

You smiled. “Yes. You need to figure out you first before someone else joins the equation.”

He nodded, cheeks flushed, and padded up the stairs in his socks, clutching the materials like they might vanish.

The moment his door shut, you let out a long breath and planted a hand on your hip.

“Right,” you muttered. You decided to organize the rest of the box by heat level: vanilla, hot, and spicy as hell. Some of the stuff was wild—positions and combinations that made you question human anatomy.

After a while, boredom crept in, and your eyes drifted to the framed photos on the walls. Childhood Seung-Hyun: science fair ribbons, trophies, spelling bees. There were also beach photos—him with an older girl, splashing, building sandcastles. Must be his sister.

Your fingers trailed across the mantel where a dusty photo album sat. Curiosity won.

You flipped it open—and boom: baby Seung-Hyun. Round cheeks. Big, thoughtful eyes. You laughed softly to yourself, flipping pages. He looked so different now—but somehow still the same.

You were deep in a photo labeled Hye-Yoon ♥—a girl in a beret and glittery eyeshadow—when a voice made you jump.

“What are you doing?”

You snapped the album shut like it had electrocuted you. Seung-Hyun stood there, damp hair, hoodie clinging to his shoulders, sweatpants hanging low. Glasses skewed.

Wow.

“I—uh—I was just…” You mumbled. “She’s pretty.”

You shut the album, embarrassed you got caught snooping. “Sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine.”

You stood, brushing imaginary dust off your thighs. “So… how was it?”

He looked down, ears pinking again. “Enlightening.”

You grinned. “Enlightening?”

He nodded quickly. “A lot to take in. But… not bad.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “We doing this again?”

“If… you’re still willing.”

“Oh, I’m willing.” You smirked. “Same time tomorrow.”

He smiled—small, but real.

As you grabbed your bag and headed to the door, you paused. “You might wanna hide the box before your family gets home.”

He snorted. “Definitely.”

You gave a playful wave and stepped outside, the cool air greeting your flushed cheeks.

Progress. That’s what this was. One awkward, curious, beautiful step at a time.

You were packing your bag to head over to Choi Seung-Hyun's house, half-distracted and fully frustrated while you searched for your phone. That damn thing had a habit of disappearing the second you looked away. Today had already been a whirlwind, and there was still tutoring ahead.

Seung-Hyun had been making amazing progress with the box, steadily approaching the spicy section. Every time he returned to the living room—fresh from a cold shower, hair slightly damp and eyes bright with curiosity—you had to remind yourself to breathe. He usually left you with some work when he went off to "study," but you always ended up giving up halfway through. It usually took him a short time to return, but this time... he was taking longer.

You wandered through the house, eventually finding yourself in the kitchen.

The fridge was plastered with magnets and papers, the kind of things families collect over years and forget to take down. Cheesy souvenirs from different countries. A report card here. A toddler's drawing there. Among them were Seung-Hyun's test papers—A's and A+'s from English everywhere. You couldn’t help but smile. Even in his senior year, his mom still pinned up his grades like she was proud of her little genius.

Your eyes danced over a grocery list scribbled in different handwritings:

Apples, yogurt, milk—elegant, cursive letters. Definitely his mom.

Peas, cheese, Captain Crunch—sloppy caps. Dad, maybe.

BBQ pizza, strawberries, Cheetos—neat, sharp handwriting that screamed Seung-Hyun.

A whiteboard hung crookedly beside it:

Seung-Hyun, clean your room. Grandpa's coming tomorrow – Dad

Dad, didn’t realize Grandpa was sleeping in my room – Seung-Hyun

Dear, your father is coming next week, not tomorrow – Mom <3

You laughed quietly, your smile lingering. It all felt so intimate, like you'd stepped into a world no one else got to see.

"Do you always snoop, or is it just my house?"

You spun around, startled. There he was—Seung-Hyun, leaning against the doorframe with a casual grin, his arms crossed.

"You scared me!" You gasped.

"Did you finish the work early?"

"Yes," you lied without hesitation. "And then I got bored."

He shrugged and sauntered to the table, dropping into a chair. "How did you find it?"

"Honestly? It was... good. I finished the other two books and the DVD set you gave me," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

It still surprised you—this tall, hot, brainiac guy studying erotica and still managing to remain untouched. As if.

You pulled up a chair across from him. "Can I ask you something?"

He gave a small nod.

"Why haven’t you... done anything yet?"

He winced a little. "I never really had close guy friends to talk about this stuff with. And my dad... wasn’t around much until a couple years ago."

"Military," you said without thinking. His eyes flashed with surprise.

"The pictures on the mantle," you clarified.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You really do snoop."

You sat back and folded your arms, grinning.

"I just never had those 'locker room' talks, you know? And as I got older, I got busy. School. Life. Training. And it’s not like girls were lining up for me anyway." He looked away for a second. "I don’t like the unknown. I’d rather wait than screw something up."

You understood that too well. Not knowing was vulnerability. And vulnerability felt like weakness.

"How did you know you liked Se-mi?" you asked, your voice a little softer.

He smiled, leaning back. You’d never seen him this relaxed.

"Kindergarten. I had separation anxiety. Like, intense. I clung to my mom’s leg like a koala every day. Hated being away from her. Then this girl comes up—Se-mi—and holds out her hand. Said everything would be okay. That she’d keep me safe. And I believed her."

You grinned at the mental image. Tiny Seung-Hyun, sobbing into his mom’s jeans.

"And as we got older, she got smarter, kinder, prettier... I just kept liking her more. She’s always been around. Her mom works with mine, so I see her at the shop all the time. She was always perfect."

He looked down again, voice turning quiet.

"The day I asked her out, I had everything planned. A museum date. There’s this music section I know she’d love. Then this little café with amazing pastries. And a walk in the park after. It was stupid."

"It’s not stupid," you said. "It’s... kind of adorable."

He chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "What about you? What’s your perfect date?"

You thought for a moment. "A picnic."

His laugh was immediate. "A picnic? Really?"

"Don’t judge! Picnics are romantic. Tiny sandwiches, plastic champagne glasses, sunset views. What’s not to love?"

"And you say I overplan," he teased.

You gasped dramatically. "Shut up, nerd boy."

He grinned. "You ever been on one?"

You shook your head.

"And Jun-ho never took you? Isn’t he the ‘bad boy’ heartthrob?"

"We broke up," you said stiffly.

He looked unconvinced. "Right."

"What does it matter, anyway? Maybe someone will take me. Eventually."

"Maybe. And maybe you and I can double-date—with Se-mi. In a perfect world."

He didn’t respond right away. His smile faded as he stared down at his hands.

"What if she doesn’t like me? Like... what if she just made that excuse to let me down easy?"

Your heart tightened.

"Why would you think that?"

"No one likes me at school. I’m just the awkward guy people tolerate, you know?"

You stood slowly. Moved to him.

And without thinking, straddled his lap.

His breath hitched as you cupped his face and kissed him. Deeply. Hungrily. His hand found the small of your back and pulled you closer, the other weaving through your hair. He kissed you like he needed it—like it was the only thing anchoring him.

When he leaned in for more, you pulled back, still holding his face.

"Se-mi is going to like you."

"How do you know that?"

You brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. "Because if I can kiss you like that—me of all people, someone who’s supposed to think you’re weird and repulsive—"

"Gee, thanks."

You squished his cheeks before he could protest again. "If I can kiss you of my own free will, then Se-mi will too. What you need, Seung-Hyun, is confidence. You’re not some loser. You’re kind. Sweet. Real. When you let people see that, girls will be lining up for you."

He looked down and chuckled softly.

"What?"

"That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me."

You grinned and pinched his cheek. "Don’t get used to it, nerd boy."

The next morning, you paused at the doorway of the English classroom, hoping to slip out unnoticed like the rest of your classmates. But of course, Mr. Kim had other plans.

"I wanted to talk to you for a second."

You hesitated but walked back in, approaching Mr. Kim’s desk as he gathered up worksheets.

"Yes?" you asked, forcing patience when all you wanted was to flee to your car.

"How's the tutoring going?"

Tutoring? Oh, right. Choi Seung-Hyun. You had to remind yourself that, technically, you were helping him study. It just didn’t feel like tutoring. Not when you were introducing him to a whole new world—one far more intimate than academics.

"Yeah, it's going great," you replied smoothly. If by "great" he meant educating Seung-Hyun in the world of pleasure, then yes, absolutely great.

"Perfect. Just a heads-up, there’s a test on Monday. Thought you might want to prepare."

You forced a polite smile. You hated tests. Everyone did.

"Sounds great."

"Expecting good things, Y/N," Mr. Kim beamed.

You nodded and left, your nerves flaring. You weren’t sure why, but him asking about tutoring made you anxious. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was paranoia. Maybe it was the way you had started avoiding Seung-Hyun in public, scared he'd try to talk to you.

Did he think you were friends?

You weren’t.

You were business partners. You both needed something. You provided it for each other. Friends talk in public. Friends share memes and drinks. You didn’t do any of that with him.

Now, you were tapping your pencil against your arm, staring blankly at a wrong present-tense sentence that you had to correct. No clue how to write it. Maybe if you'd paid attention in class instead of daydreaming...

You glanced over at Seung-Hyun. He was engrossed in a book—an erotica novel, actually. One Jae-mi owned, you remembered. It was on her shelf the last time you were in her room. Did her parents know what she read? Definitely not. They thought she was an angel.

You caught the shift in Seung-Hyun's body. He stiffened, coughed to collect himself. He was clearly affected by what he was reading. Maybe you should have skimmed the books first. But then again, you'd probably have kept them.

His neck flushed red, jaw clenched. He wet his lips, ran a hand through his hair—hair that was always dry and frizzy. He'd stopped wearing his beanie around you, which made you think it had been a shield of some kind. Now he seemed more comfortable, even if his hair was a mess.

You bit your lip, watching him squirm in his chair, flipping pages with growing tension. He bit his knuckles. Yeah, he was definitely turned on. This probably happened a lot—reading, watching things, then cold showers to take the edge off.

He needed to know the kind of satisfaction he was missing.

"If I asked you to trust me, would you?" you asked suddenly.

He looked up, startled. His pupils were wide, his breath shallow.

"I... I-I guess."

"Good. Let's go upstairs."

"W-What?" he stammered, standing quickly.

"Upstairs," you repeated, walking ahead into the living room, then up the stairs. The upper floor had photos, wooden signs like the ones you'd see on American dramas: Home Is Where the Heart Is, You Call it Chaos; We Call it Family.

"Which one's your room?"

"You don't need to—"

"Which. Room."

He led you to the one on the right.

You stepped inside, surprised. His room was clean. Immaculate, even. Cream walls, dark wooden floors. Books organized. Bed made. A finished essay on the desk.

"Nice room," you whistled. He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Erm... thanks. It's a little messy."

It wasn’t. Not at all. Aside from a hoodie and a cereal bowl by his PC, it was spotless. 

"W-What are we doing up here?" he asked nervously.

You turned and leaned against the desk. "We're going to fix something."

"F-Fix what? Nothing's broken—"

You stepped closer. Inches away. His erection was painfully obvious.

"Fix your hair and show me your brown eyes," you murmured.

"I-"

"Fix. Your. Hair.."

He swallowed and obeyed.

"Get on the bed. Sit facing the TV."

He moved slowly, confusion written all over his face.

"Where's the box?"

"I-In the closet."

You pulled it out and flipped through DVDs until you found what you wanted. Grinning, you popped it into the player and navigated to the right video.

"I don’t understand what’s happening," he admitted.

"You said you’re scared to jerk off," you said gently. "We’re going to try something. If you feel uncomfortable, tell me. But I need your full trust."

A pause.

"...Okay. I trust you."

You smiled, crawling onto the bed behind him. "Watch the video."

He nodded, breath catching as the screen lit up.

A man undressed a woman on a large bed, kissing down her body. His tongue slid over her slit. Roman gasped softly.

You leaned close. "Ever think about doing that? Stroking her clit, finger-fucking her while you taste her?"

He groaned, nodding.

"Look at her tits, Seung-Hyun. You ever want to suck them? Fuck them?"

Another nod. His cock strained beneath his jeans.

"Watch her cum."

The woman moaned loudly. The man hummed against her. You could feel your own arousal soaking through.

Then the woman was on her knees, pulling the man’s pants down. She deepthroated him, humming in satisfaction.

"Ever wonder what that feels like?" you asked.

"Yes," he groaned.

"Answer me."

"Yes."

You placed a hand on his thigh, slowly rubbing over the bulge. "You're so hard," you whispered. "Look at you, baby."

"Please, Y/N," he begged.

"Please what?"

He panted, eyes glued to the screen.

"Touch me."

You smiled, brushing your lips along his neck. You unzipped him, pulling down his jeans and boxers. His cock sprang free.

"Holy shit," you whispered.

"Is... is it okay?"

"You’re huge," you murmured.

Your hand wrapped around him, pumping slowly.

"Ah, shit!" he moaned.

"Eyes open," you said firmly.

He obeyed, watching the screen.

"You like that? My hand on your cock?"

"Yes... yes, Y/N."

"Good boy," you praised. "You’re such a good boy."

You rubbed your thumb over his slit, teasing him.

"Faster. Please."

"Show me. Wrap your hand around mine."

He did, pumping faster.

"Yeah... ah, fuck yeah."

Your clit throbbed with desire. You could picture him inside you.

"Cum for me, baby."

His cry echoed through the room. He released, seed spurting, breath ragged.

You handed him a tissue, wiping your hand. He cleaned himself, glasses fogged, chest heaving.

"Fuck," he whispered.

"How was that?" you asked with a light laugh.

"Amazing," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

The two of you burst into laughter."Welcome to the world of sex, Choi Seung-Hyun," you grinned. "It is pretty amazing."

Taglist: @petersasteria @redhoodedtoad @mirahyun @sherrayyyyy @sherxoo @dilfismz @breakmeoff @janie-osuih @forevervibezzzz1 @kuinnoa @juliskopf @maskedcrawford @szonyix6277@ldydeath

Series taglist: @1950schick @zaaraaax0 @tabibabib @sofiaaaah

[gi4hao]

vernon x gn!reader — lighthearted fluff, teasing as a love language, vernon is a nerd

plot: vernon is in a flirty mood. that’s literally it.

“don’t you think it’s a weird saying?”

on your right, vernon hums interrogatively without taking his eyes off of the tv.

“the guy just told her ‘i love you to the moon and back’. i think it’s a weird thing to say.”

this time he turns his head towards you. partly out of interest for your last words, but mostly to grab the bucket of popcorn you’ve been hogging.

“you’re right, how dare he declare his love to his wife? such a weirdo…” he scoffs as he grabs a handful of popcorn, slightly frowning at the realization that there were a lot more last time he had the bucket on his lap.

his unserious reply calls for more drastic measures, so you grab the remote and pause the movie.

“i’m just saying, why the moon? why not the sun? it’s much farther.”

vernon takes a couple of seconds to ponder over your observation, face completely still except for his active chewing.

“good point. if it were me, i’d tell you i love you to GN-z11 and back,” he remarks, but immediately notices that something is not clicking in your brain. “it’s the farthest galaxy from earth. well, that we know of at least.”

“oh wow… you’re such a nerd,” you chuckle, “you’re telling me you just woke up one day wanting to know what’s the farthest point from our planet and looked it up?”

your puzzled expressions look almost similar in that moment, although provoked by two very different things. to vernon, none of his words are worth such a dumbfounded reaction.

“…yeah? is this what i get for trying to be romantic? bullying?” he replies with an air of fake offense. “nevermind, i guess i only love you to the supermarket and back then.”

the gasp you let out is so loud it almost makes him flinch and knock the bucket over. but that gasp was nothing compared to the way you suddenly slump down on him, fully taking him by surprise.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry! i love your nerdy flirting, i would die if i had to live without your fun little facts, i’m so serious!” you exclaim, hands on his cheeks to force him to look at you. “i love you to that galaxy with a weird name and back, i swear! now say it back please.”

it’s not that vernon doesn’t feel like continuing this fake argument just for fun, it’s that he physically cannot with your pleading eyes staring right into his.

“i’ll forgive you if you let me finish the popcorn…” he starts, pausing until you’ve nodded in agreement, “and yes, i love you to GN-z11 and back, of course i do.”

it takes all your physical and mental strength to not tell him how cute he looks with his cheeks slightly squished by your palms. so instead, you channel this affection into a loud kiss on his lips, which he extends by placing a gentle hand on the back of your head, applying more pressure on your mouth.

when your lips part, your eyes are opened a bit wider than usual, still surprised by the intensity of his kiss; which he notices with a slight smirk.

now laying on top of him, you prop yourself up on your elbows, a bit out of breath:

“they need to discover a farther galaxy. this one isn’t gonna be enough,” you blurt out, and watch his smirk morph into a genuine smile, bringing a light blush to his cheeks.

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED <3

[moonstruckme]

hey! I really really really like your writing very much!

can you do one where the reader and spencer reid are both nerds but different kinds of nerds. so the reader's more of a literature/ language nerd and spencer's basically an expert in LITERALLY everything. so she has a major crush on him but always hesitates to make a move on him cuz she thinks that she doesn't stand a chance because she struggles with basic math and physics chemistry make her head hurt

and so when spencer asks her out she's all baffled like you don't think I'm dumb?!😭😭

Hi, thanks honey!

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

It’s one of those rare days where you can actually afford a lunch break, and you’ve decided to take it outside with your book. Every day lately feels like it could be the last nice one you get before the cold weather comes in, and you’re enjoying the crisp breeze and warm sunshine on your face as you get settled on the bench outside the cafe where you work. 

The book you’ve been reading for the past week is good but not great; you’re sort of pushing yourself to finish just so you can say it’s over with and tell the friend who lent it that you gave it your best. Still, you’re very nearly lost in it by the time a pair of black converse comes to a stop in front of you. 

You follow them upward. “Spencer!” you say, probably with a touch too much alacrity. Too quickly, too. You might’ve at least pretended to have to think about the name of the sweet-faced doctor looking down at you. But it’s not your fault; you’ve gotten used to calling it out from the counter when he comes here to pick up his lunch at least three days out of the week. 

“Hi,” he says, teetering on the edge of bashful. “I’m surprised to see you out here, you’re almost always working when I come by.” 

It’s embarrassingly gratifying that he knows that. You’d never hold it against him if he didn’t, but you’ve come to enjoy the little bits of conversation you grab with him when he comes by, and it’s nice to know that he’s noticed you too. 

“It’s a slow day,” you reply by way of explanation. “I figured I’d grab a break while I still could.” 

Spencer smiles like he totally gets that. You imagine he does. “Good idea. Can I sit?”

“Of course!” Again, way too eager. You’ve got to work on controlling your tone around him. You move your discarded jacket into your lap. 

“Thanks,” he says, sitting in the space you’ve made for him. His legs are so long he looks like he’s squatting on the bench, knees high enough for him to set his elbows on. Which he does, tilting his head to see you. “What’re you reading?”

“Oh, um, it’s nothing. I mean, I wouldn’t really recommend it,” you laugh. Christ, you don’t want him to know what you’re reading. Spencer probably reads astrophysics textbooks for fun. “It’s not very good.” 

Spencer puts his hand over yours, far from forceful as he tips the page toward him until he can see the cover. Your brain is short-circuiting so badly it’s a wonder you don’t drop the paperback onto the pavement. 

“I haven’t heard of it,” he says, which surprises you. Spencer seems so knowledgeable it’s difficult to believe there’s anything in existence that’s not stored somewhere in his hard drive. “Why are you reading it if you don’t think it’s good?” 

He doesn’t ask it in any unkind or judgemental way, but something inside you tenses nonetheless. You know perhaps too much about Spencer Reid. It’s not like you’d gone out of your way to figure him out, but the facts had presented themselves to you almost serendipitously and you’d put the pieces together. You know that he’s in the FBI, not only because of the laminated identifier he sometimes leaves clipped to his shirtpocket when he comes in, but also because of the coworkers that occasionally come with him. From those coworkers, you also know that he’s a doctor, and you gather that he’s generally respected and admired as well as cared for by his team. He seems a bit awkward, but sure of himself where it matters, and he goes into every interaction with a kind curiosity. Most of all, you know that Spencer is smart. Like, expert in everything smart. You’d caught a few jokes from the people he’s brought in about an eidetic memory, his multiple PhDs, and the nickname “boy genius.” No matter how shy and sweet someone is, that’s intimidating. 

And it’s unnerving to have someone with an IQ higher than you can probably fathom asking about your intellectual habits. 

“Well, the plot doesn’t actually have much movement, so it’s pretty boring,” you say hesitantly. “I guess at this point I’m mostly in it for the prose. Plus my friend recommended it, so I have to finish it to keep her happy.” 

Spencer laughs at your little joke, nodding. “Wow, the prose alone is enough to keep you going? It must be pretty fascinating.” 

You want to backpedal immediately, but settle for a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s alright. I’m kind of a nerd for that stuff. Rhetorical devices and all.”

Spencer tilts his head, something igniting in his brown eyes. Interest. “Rhetorical devices. You mean like metaphor and personification?”

You nod. “Yeah, like those, but also anadiplosis and polysyndeton and anastrophe.” Spencer’s eyebrows move slowly upward as you speak, and you feel heat rising to your cheeks despite the slight chill. “I just like that there’s things that affect the emotion—or the pacing, or whatever—of writing that we as readers pick up on almost subconsciously, but were so intentional for the writer.” 

Spencer’s nodding, eyes going somewhere just slightly distant. “Yeah, that’s a good point. I mean, I know writing is a very intentional process, but I never really think about the tiny, word-level decisions authors make to influence readers.” 

“It’s so cool,” you agree. “Like, how long do you think it takes someone to land on the exact right word for what they’re trying to convey, or to structure their sentences in a way that builds momentum over the course of a paragraph? Like, so much goes into it.” 

Spencer’s smiling at you, and you realize you’re gushing, geeky zeal bursting out of you like a soda bottle that’s been shaken and finally uncapped. “Sorry. Um, what’re you reading lately?” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he says quickly, still smiling at you. “I actually just finished my last book, so I’m looking for something new. If this book has all that and isn’t up to your standards, I’d be interested to see what you really enjoy reading.” 

Your cheeks are burning hot; you hope Spencer thinks the redness is from the cool breeze. “I’d be nervous to give you a recommendation,” you admit. “Too much pressure.” 

Spencer waves you off. “I’ll read anything, don’t worry about it. Hey, have you ever been to that coffee shop on fifth? It’s in a bookstore.” 

You blink. “No, I haven’t heard of it. That sounds cool, though.” 

A bit of pink tinges Spencer’s cheeks; it’s probably from the cool breeze. “Yeah, well, you should let me take you there sometime. If you want, of course,” he adds hastily. “Don’t worry about it if not.” 

It takes you a second to realize what’s happening. And then once you do, another second to make yourself believe it. “Like, as a date?” you ask, just to be sure.

 Spencer’s smile is hopeful behind its timidity. “Yeah. Yeah, if you’re okay with that.” 

“Yeah.” You can’t think of anything better to say, your brain filling with buzzing bees. “That sounds good. Thanks.” 

He laughs, eyebrows coming together bemusedly. “Well, don’t thank me. I should be thanking you.” 

It’s more a thanks for his taking action, you think. For making a move when you’d been too scared to, stagnant with months over your anxiety that he’d think you were too dumb or trivial to want to keep talking to you after he’d picked up his sandwich. 

“Okay, great.” He stands. “Well, I have to get back, but I’ll, uh…I’ll see you? Friday, maybe? I can come by here after your shift.” 

“You know when my shift ends?”

Now even his ears are turning red. “You…around four, right? I sometimes see you if I’m leaving work around then.” 

You smile. “Yeah, four. See you then, Dr. Reid.” 

“See you then!” he turns around, and you can see the exact moment he thinks to wonder how you know his last name. You don’t bother worrying about it.

[sevikasbooyahh]

𝐌𝐞𝐥 𝐇𝐂'𝐒

Headcanons about my 2nd wife because she’s under appreciated in the writing community😔

She’s a professional spoiler—gives you all types of jewelry, clothes, even as small as simple notes; it’s her love language

As you slowly woke up from sleep, turning to the nightstand, there was an envelope. A smile plastered across your face, you were quick to open it, knowing it was from her. It was written in her beautiful handwriting, small doodles in each corner.

I love waking up next to you every morning, it’s a beautiful sight to see when I open my eyes.

A sketch of you laid at the bottom of the paper; your every feature highlighted by her skilled hands.

Although she has a neutral and put-together attitude in public, once she’s alone with you, she’s allows herself to be vulnerable.

Makes a lot of sketches of you, when you’re sleep, concentrated, eating, basically doing anything.

She gets a bit silly sometimes, whether it’s making faces or gestures unconsciously.

“And uh—em…” she moved her hands around in circles as she struggled to explain something. You slightly furrowed your eyebrows, a small smile on your face, “What are you doing?” Her eyes averted from your face to her hands, feeling embarrassed.

Absolutely an art nerd; she will talk about every single painting she’s ever admired and explain microscopic details

Has had frequent nightmares since being trapped in the oculorum. Moments before, she’d watched her only friend die, destroyed in a matter of seconds at the hands of the Black Rose. She was kept there for months, fearing for her life, being deceived left and right. Her own brother, she truly thought he was alive…it was all a lie.

She sat up straight, chest heaving as she tried to collect her thoughts. Kino, Elora. She felt suffocated, as if oxygen was being stolen from her lungs. A hand found it’s way to her back and she flinched until she heard your face, “Mel, it’s just me.” She turned and looked at your face, full of concern and sympathy. There wasn’t a verbal response but she clung to your body, silently hoping that this wasn’t a hallucination.

It wasn’t until she felt you squeeze her body twice that she was fully relieved. You have this act of reassurance where you squeeze her twice so she knows that what she’s experiencing is real.

Often gets up really early to watch the sun rise. It’s so unreal how all the colors blend together in the sky and created this gorgeous image.

Has like the best diet ever, of course

Tells you stories of her childhood in Noxus, what her mother was like, why she got exiled.

Her hands are always cold for no particular reason

You jumped when you felt a freezing sensation trace your back. She pulled her hand back, “It’s just my hand,” she smiled. “Why are your hands always ice-cold?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows, she gave a small shrug in response. You took her hands in yours to warm them up a little, “I appreciate this,” she said softly as her eyes met yours.

Is usually the big spoon but won’t mind being a little spoon. She loves having your arms wrapped around her.

If you give her an attitude, she will somehow eliminate it without even saying anything.

You gave a huff, “It’s not like you’d know anything about it.” The words came with an eye roll, you’ve been like this since the morning and she was getting pretty tired. She’d ignored it, assuming you’d figure it out on your own but clearly you didn’t. She raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowed, and she saw the moment where you realized. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled out apologetically. “Apology accepted, but don’t make it a habit,” she uncrossed her arms and held your hand.

[strawberryg-cake]

Tighnari with a chubby girlfriend.

Idk if the foxy guy would have a type but honestly? I find the idea cute so I decided to do it lol.

Can be considered fluff? + A little bit spicy? I think it's just fluff lol... I apologize beforehand for any grammatical mistakes, English is not my first/native language ><. Anyway, enjoy (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠).

❀ Honestly, I don't think he would care that much about physical appearances, since seeing how Tighnari is, the first thing that comes to my mind is: 'no dumb girl is allowed' for this man. so you being chubby doesn't bother him, i think somehow he would like it. are you healthy? yes. do you feel comfortable? yes. then he's fine; your happiness is his happiness too.

❀ Nope, I do not think Tighnari would be the type of boyfriend that would go for physical touch. that's not his love language... at least not in public, because when you two are alone in your room or at his in Gandharva ville, he would definitely use you as his pillow. but can you blame him? you're soooo comfortable and warm. one of his ears would twitch a little once he rests his head on your lap or your belly, and if you send him an inquisitive look, he would immediately say something like, 'what? can I not enjoy the benefits of having you as my girlfriend?' but let's be real, you love to see how comfortable he looks and how his fluffy tail flicks a little when you take care of his hair and ears.

❀ He likes to hug you—again, not in public because that's not Tighnari's thing—but he definitely enjoys hugging you when you two are alone. 'why was that, Nari?' you ask, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck and says, 'I just wanted to.'

❀ He can carry or lift you. okay, I know what you all think: he's thin and bla bla bla, but honestly I don't think he's weak... I mean, he uses a bow, and I just know that he would carry those dumb adventurers who pass out from eating things they shouldn't, so... yeah, I think he would be able to do it. and if you look at him, flustered and surprised, he would say something like, 'Come on, don't be silly. compared to those stupid men I need to carry here, you can be considered a fluffy pillow with attitude.' and then your face would just get as red as a jueyun chili. 'D-did you just call me fluffy?!' he would just smirk. 'With attitude. let's not avoid that part next time.'

❀ He would be obsessed with your thighs... not like he would say it out loud, but he would definitely like them. if you wear thigh socks with a short skirt? he'll stare at them and try not to if you are in public. if you catch him doing it while he's working on his research at night... 'I thought your research was about a new plant species you found yesterday, but now I'm starting to believe it'll be about my thighs for the way you look at them.' his ears would twitch and... congratulations, you made him blush. a little.

❀ If you ever feel uncomfortable or insecure about yourself, you can talk to him. he will reassure you about how beautiful you are, in his own way of course, but he will do it.

❀ also, tell him if any of the forest rangers bother you or make any comment about your body... they will never do it again. actually, they may be scared to even talk to you again, and if you ask why? well... let's just say that being reprimanded by Tighnari is not pretty at all.

❀ He likes your curves. Come on... he's sassy and sarcastic and a standout nerd when it comes to the botany field, but he's a guy. and guys notice those things. of course, he will notice your curves, and he'll definitely like them. how does a simple piece of cloth look so good on someone? he doesn't know. he only knows he likes how it looks on you—how anything looks on you. and if you wear one of his baggy shirts and shorts? be prepared, because he'll keep you with him until he stops finding you too attractive to let go (spoiler: he never does).

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

You were trying to take one of the small bottles of medicine your boyfriend had recently made, but why did he have to put them on such a high shelf?! Even standing on the tips of your toes, you still weren't able to get it. What you didn't know was that he had been observing you for the last few minutes—probably because you were too focused on your battle with the shelf and trying to get the medicine by yourself. Tighnari had been watching your struggle with something between delight and amusement.

He didn't know what was more attractive in his eyes: your stubbornness to try to get it by yourself with no help, or you almost getting upset with yourself for not being able to grab the stupid bottle.

"Alright, that's enough," a well-known voice said, and you shifted right where you were. '?!—'

And even before you could say something, a pair of hands lifted you up, high enough to reach the medicine... but it was like your brain stopped working right there, and the only thing you were able to process was how easily he picked you up. The heat in your cheeks made you look at him with a mix of shyness and embarrassment. Of course, your boyfriend noticed this, and being as sassy as usual, Tighnari just gave you a little smile and then...

'Hurry up before I become the reason you lose even more time here.'

Forget about the shyness—it was replaced by flustered panic. Shaking your head with a dumb smile adorning your lips, you took the medicine.

'Put me down, big lummox.'

'Stealing my lines already?' he teased, and you just giggled.

'I'm a fast learner; that's why you like me, after all, right?'

You were right, and you knew it—and he knew it too. He was just about to correct you with it only being one of the several reasons why he liked you, but he decided to let you win this time.

After some teasing and kissing, both of you returned with the medicine.

[balrogballs]

Hi hi hi! I just finished reading The Sword Tree and I'm still unwell about it so I hope it's okay if I rant in your ask box for a sec. I'm South Asian and the bit about celebrian saying there's more to their national diagnosis of sea-longing hit so close to home because the rhetoric around returning to valinor is so similar to partition where the rhetoric was (and remains to this day at least in pakistan) that all the Muslims of the subcontinent WANTED to go to Pakistan because they wanted a Muslim homeland. Which is just - patently untrue as evidenced by the fact that MILLIONS of Muslims chose to remain in India and doesn't take into account any of the hundred of reasons people actually chose to migrate, the threat of violence being not least amongst them. The way returning to valinor is framed as this glorious homecoming when really so many of the elves would have been fleeing from violence, would have been going because they had no other choice, because it was that or fade is soooo ASHDHSGS it drives me insane. But at least now I can think of celebrian taking them to her forest so yay <3 thank you for that

You’ll have to excuse me nerding out being a complete freak and writing a whole ass impromptu 1500 word meta essay at midnight in the hour since you sent this though, because this ask scratches a good 100% of my brain in a wonderful way + I have a lot of THOUGHTS + it touches on some non-fiction stuff I was preparing for Mereth Aderthad… so thank you very much ily as you can see here I am just as unwell 🥹🙏🏽🫶🏽

I’ll put the actual content under the cut since it’s long, but it may be interesting to anyone else keen on my silly meta/theory ramblings re: postcolonial South Asia, Tolkien elves, Valinor, Indo-Pak (obv a thematic comparison rather than a direct equation since the circumstances, cost and setting is entirely different), slow violence and the diction of genteel exile… plus, Frodo comes into it at one point!

Forgive me if I repeat myself here because I’m not sure how long you’ve followed me so idk how much Balls Lore™️ I’ve dropped btw… so I’m not religious but my paternal side (who we’re culturally closer to as a family since my mum’s side don’t really practice their religion/culture) are actually Indian Muslims from Kerala, which was one of the v few Indian states that had both a high Muslim population yet saw almost no northward movement towards Pakistan, partly bc it was so far south and the people don’t speak any of the Indopak “border languages” but also because there wasn’t much communal violence or structural discrimination (relative to the rest of the country, I mean…) so life was at the time not particularly hostile or difficult for Muslims in Kerala, at least on the basis of their religion (caste is a diff story though 🥲).

And so people just stayed, because, as you say, they COULD. Because why the fuck would you choose to leave the place you were born in, trek across the entire subcontinent and face unspeakable violence, if you had literally any other choice!!!

And your point about “glorious homecoming” is also super interesting to me especially in the context of the RSS/Indian RW’s “Musalmanon ko donon sthan, Pakistan aur kabarsthan’ (Muslims have two places: Pakistan or the graveyard)” chant, by now a vicious majoritan sentiment which simultaneously contradicts their other unhinged viewpoint, aka “Pakistan technically belongs to India”. And that kind of diction is in turn echoed and mirrored from the Pakistani side, where anytime anti-Muslim violence breaks out in India, the PK broadcast media/politicos begin their “we told you so tee hee we told you you should have come here, who asked you to stay in India? 🤪” world tour like they’re talking about children who dropped their ice creams 🥲

Which is unsurprising of course, considering India and Pakistan have spent nearly 80 years constructing their national identity as the moral and civilisational antithesis of the other one… ie Pakistan as a “sanctuary from Hindu majoritarianism”, India as a “secular (lmao) republic against Islamic theocracy”… and like w Valinor and Middle-earth, these imaginaries are less geographic than mythic (thinking about Eärendil’s journey here, or Tuor just… as a concept sksksk): each land continuously reifies itself by casting the other as failed or impure, and the rules of performance and belonging keep shifting…

The very structure of Valinor's inaccessibility aka requiring divine permission, reserved for the select, where rules can be broken only if the divine powers will it to me resonates w how citizenship & belonging are gatekept in the subcontinent and how those with hybrid or marginal identities (like Ëarendiil) are often asked to prove their fidelity to the nation (“choose elves or men”) in ways the majority never is, as if access to the country of your birth was a conditional gift rather than a birthright.

And I’m thinking again about the Peredhel choice, and Elwing and Eärendil being forced to choose to belong to either men or elves at great cost, quite literally punished for hybridity, and for stepping foot in Valinor as the “wrong kind”, the kind who aren’t allowed to enter… and this punishment lasts for several generations of their line, right down to Arwen… so again that “homeland” projected not as a shared horizon of peace but as a fantasised ideal purified of the other’s existence…. an unsoiled homeland that can only keep moving forwards by erasing those whose identities speak to entanglement...

And with “Indo-Pak”, that metaphysical distance between Valinor and Middle-earth is reenacted as militarised borders and cultural opposition... each made from the blank spaces in the other’s mirror. And so in India, much like for other minorities in Pakistan, or former East Pakistan prior to the liberation of Bangladesh… those who don’t fit the moral geography of Partition ie religiously intermarried families, religious minorities, borderland communities, secular dissidents, queer folk, etc, are not only excluded from nationalist narratives but seen as aberrations, or intruders… India must inversely reflect Pakistan, and Pakistan must inversely reflect India, because if they don’t, then neither country can be said to exist.

And yes absolutely, for ME elves (ie Elrond for instance) the “return” is not some triumphant homecoming, the journey West is sorrowful and final… less a political return and more an admission that Middle-earth, the “contested space” so to speak, can no longer sustain the presence of its most wounded or burdened beings. Eg Frodo’s departure, like Celebrían’s sailing, being a spiritual evacuation rather than a physical one, not in itself necessary for healing, but because healing is no longer possible where the wound was made… like, the tragedy of people needing to convalesce from their own country is just 🥲

and I think the ending of the Return of the King showcases this splendidly: by ending with a *departure* from ME rather than an *arrival* in Valinor. And that’s what makes it tragic to me, bc in Tolkien’s world, the sailing to Valinor marks the end of the narrative for the reader, but in South Asia, this desire for purified homelands continues to regenerate new forms of violence…

What I’m trying to say here is, I assume you haven’t read my India AU (Prayers to Broken Stone) since I remember you mentioning the sea serpent one was the first Maedhros and Elrond story of mine you read, which is why I am EXTREMELY shook (in a good way aka I am insanely impressed, whatever our souls are made of yours and mine are the same etc etc) at how you’ve hit the nail right on the head when it comes to a major undercurrent of Prayers, which I don’t think I’ve even mentioned explicitly on Tumblr either—the overarching thematic parallel between the fading of elves and the postcolonial trajectory of the Indian Muslims who chose to stay because they wanted to, where the opportunity for a “glorious return” to an unknown land is no opportunity at all, and is in fact nothing but a great and violent sundering. Like that is the main thematic framework there, far beyond any positionality-politics about the Noldor and the Sindar or whatever. Just including a bit from one of the chapters which I think illustrates exactly what I mean (context, this is set during the Emergency following the Fëanorians as a Malayali Muslim family, where Maedhros is a former freedom fighter).

———

———

I wanted to convey in the fic how in post-independence India, Muslims were not formally expelled, but their political + cultural + historical centrality was increasingly made to fade, ie transformed from participants in the national story to spectral reminders of an undesirable past… thinking about that alternate LOTR ending where Sam talks to his daughter Elanor about Celeborn staying alone in Lothlorien, and her calling it “terribly sad”… artefacts/relics/remembrance etc etc…

+ in Tolkien, fading is often accompanied by a refusal to speak of the past. Sam, after Frodo’s departure, speaks little of the Ring or of what was lost, or with Celebrían, the narrative has nothing to add about the year between Cel’s capture and torture, vs her sailing, ie what it was like to make the decision to sail after the act of violence. Similarly, in India, public discourse around Patrition + postcolonial antiMuslim violence is marked by silences, half-truths, and amnesia (similar to how the Bangladesh War of Liberation is taught in Pakistan, from what I hear from a cross-border friend…). And this silence is absolutely not accidental but functional: they allow the nation to perform coherence by concealing rupture.

Eg just as the memory of Frodo’s pain is only buried under the peace of the Shire and never truly gone, the memory of communal violence in India is buried (quite literally sometimes, thinking about Babri masjid…) beneath the rhetoric of secularism, progress and unity. IE like Maedhros realises in that snip above where he “loses” his name, India tells itself that it must forget the past in order to survive the future… and in doing so, renders certain kinds of survival indistinguishable from death 🥲

So yes, I absolutely think it’s exactly that “violence of belonging”, where to belong fully often requires the erasure of the other, where even the sacred return is structured by exclusion. Ie the “offer” of “returning” to an imaginary, idealised and ultimately inert “homeland” is more a euphemism for removal, or a horizon made visible only through loss.

The political grammar of “sundered” states require a sort of continuous re-inscription: new Others, new exiles, new purity tests. and in both Tolkien + postcolonial India, gesturing the “fading people” towards a redemptive “homeland” doesn’t signify the endpoint of suffering and victimisation, but rather serves as its ongoing justification. Eg is it homecoming or is it exile? 🥲

Hope my very incoherent midnight thoughts make sense! You really put my brain on speedrun mode jsjsjsjxjd this is the fastest I’ve run to answer a meta ask hahaha. And I also wanted to say thank you so much for leaving all those fantastic comments on my fics, I normally respond in bulk because I’m only logged in to AO3 on my desktop, but I just wanted to say they have TRULY been making my week…

[mays-simping-for-leona]

𓏲̣̇.170 reasons to love leona —not joking ⏤͟͟͞͞★

𓏲̣̇.idfk what im doing but i just need to do it ain't no way, my brain is gonna burn thinking of reasons to write this🙏🏻 ⏤͟͟͞͞★

𓏲̣̇.info

this post will discuss 170 reasons to love leona kingscholar ⏤͟͟͞͞★

im setting reader here to be fem

Emotional – Psychological – Social – Intellectual – Physical – Spiritual – Lifestyle – Practical – Creative – Temporal

this is all aspects mentioned

𓏲̣̇. Enjoy!⏤͟͟͞͞★

sorry for being late to post, this whole thing got deleted at reason 104 and i had to rewrite it all

while he may look cold to other people in general, he is definitely not cold to you at all. this man when in love will be so emotional even if he hides it

gentleman, he is so good at princess treatment since he respects women, and NO i don't like when he makes yiu his own pillow he will never force you into this. i believe he is the kind of guy to just take care of you when you are on your period, focuses on you

his love language is physical touch (duh of course he is touchstarved)

gives you a cute silly nickname as some sort of love

acts of service is his fav thing, he will probably love it when you fix his braids for him and he will buy you extra food

he is a nerd, so he can help you with your homework

he won't cheat, that man barely allowed himself to even THINK about dating, let alone cheating

He values quality time together, he will love sitting under a tree with you, shower together, eat together, just sit and stare in each other eyes without saying anything. your presence alone will keep him in love

he knows games like chess, and is a bookworm, so he will keep you entertained 24/7 when you two are bored

he is a bit jealous, he is not that kind of dude to go into a fight just because someone looked at you or do something crazy..he won't use his fists, he is mature, not a kid (just a reminder that he is 20, not a jealous 16 yrs old)

he will ACTUALLY try to be better for you, he is depressed and insecure, but like any healthy relationship — both of you will benefit and learn good, new habits from each other and improve yourselves!

he will let you steal his clothes and will absolutely love it when his scent is on you

idk if this is mentioned in game, but i think he is more likely to share food! he will even let you finish the whole meal and then you realize he didn't even eat

he doesn't fucking care how you look, curvy or not, pretty or not, this man will basically love you for your approach and personality, love you because you are his safe place not his sexy wife material!(i don't mean he won't appreciate your beauty, but beauty in general? not a main standard, he can still love you even if you are not —but you are, i believe everyone is beautiful🫶🏻)

he is not scared or ashamed of showing his love in public! he will cuddle, kiss, hold hands, lean on you, do anything lovely or affectionate in front of people

he is so intelligent and smart, he can plan cleverly and does things..a lot of his behavior are made with logical and rational assessment, even if he seems dull, uninterested, or asleep all the time

He doesn’t live in illusions. He knows his strengths and limits and doesn’t try to fake anything. His realism may come off as cynical, but it keeps him mentally grounded and resilient to disappointment

Even in his laziness, he’s magnetic. He has a commanding presence and a calmness that hints at power. This type of charisma can be both comforting and intimidating depending on who’s facing him

Though he's a bottled-up, explosive type, he rarely actually erupts. He’s able to suppress his emotions and endure pressure—a sign of strong psychological restraint

He doesn’t follow others blindly or care to fit in. His self-driven mindset makes him mentally sturdy, even when the world pushes against him

He doesn’t sugarcoat things to himself. If he’s bitter, he knows it. If he’s angry, he accepts it. This self-awareness shields him from inner contradictions that often lead to mental strain

Despite his rebellious streak, he knows how to act according to the situation. He can retreat when it’s smart or strike when needed. This kind of psychological flexibility is rare, especially in strong personalities

Though he pretends not to care, he quietly respects and protects those he values (like Ruggie and his dorm members). His loyalty is subtle, but real—rooted in depth rather than words.

Leona knows who he is. His feelings about being the "second-born," his view of the royal system, and his inner conflicts all contribute to a solid, stable identity despite his insecurities and mental situation

Though he mocks others, he genuinely respects competence. He may envy someone’s strength, but he doesn’t deny it. This shows a quiet sense of fairness and appreciation for true merit

Leona has experienced emotional maturity—but the harsh kind. He doesn’t live in idealism. He expects no fairness or mercy from the world. This early maturity led him to abandon dreams, but not understanding. He reads emotions clearly, but often chooses to detach rather than engage

His laughter is never pure. He mocks, he teases, and turns serious moments into biting sarcasm. But this is how he deals with life’s absurdities.His humor is a shield—a way to dull the pain and vent his silent frustrations

Leona is hyperaware of unfairness, especially in systems of rank, power, or bloodline. His resentment toward the throne isn’t just jealousy—it’s the ache of being "second best" no matter how capable he is. This gives him a rare emotional depth—he understands injustice profoundly, and even empathizes (secretly) with others who are overlooked.

Though he acts indifferent, Leona hates being less than excellent. Sometimes, he self-sabotages, but deep down there’s always that voice whispering: "If I were first, I’d do it better." This internal tug-of-war between perfectionism and resignation fuels his ongoing frustration and will always keep trying to be better and seek your (and secretly others) approval

He didn’t become Savanaclaw's dorm leader by accident. Leona possesses natural leadership instincts: he commands order, earns respect, and maintains control. If not for his bitterness toward the idea of kingship, he could’ve become a truly great ruler

peacefulLeona loves the sun, silence, and lying in places. This isn’t just laziness—it’s a genuine desire for inner calm, for a world without pressure or comparison. There’s a quiet poet in him, one who seeks peace more than praise

He doesn’t trust easily. He rarely opens up. But this is measured caution, not coldness. He chooses his inner circle with precision—and when someone does earn his trust, the connection runs deep

He may act like he doesn't care, but Leona very much watches over those he deems “his pack.” If someone messes with someone he respects or cares about—good luck to them

He doesn’t pick on the weak for no reason. If someone’s in trouble and not deserving of it, Leona’s likely to step in—even if silently

He doesn’t need to bark orders. People follow him because he carries authority effortlessly. He’s the kind of leader others naturally look to during chaos

He doesn’t live in illusions. He knows his strengths and limits and doesn’t try to fake anything. His realism may come off as cynical, but it keeps him mentally grounded and resilient to disappointment

Even in his laziness, he’s magnetic. He has a commanding presence and a calmness that hints at power. This type of charisma can be both comforting and intimidating depending on who’s facing him

Though he's a bottled-up, explosive type, he rarely actually erupts. He’s able to suppress his emotions and endure pressure—a sign of strong psychological restraint

He doesn’t follow others blindly or care to fit in. His self-driven mindset makes him mentally sturdy, even when the world pushes against him

He doesn’t sugarcoat things to himself. If he’s bitter, he knows it. If he’s angry, he accepts it. This self-awareness shields him from inner contradictions that often lead to mental strain

Despite his rebellious streak, he knows how to act according to the situation. He can retreat when it’s smart or strike when needed. This kind of psychological flexibility is rare, especially in strong personalities

Though he pretends not to care, he quietly respects and protects those he values (like Ruggie and his dorm members). His loyalty is subtle, but real—rooted in depth rather than words.

Leona knows who he is. His feelings about being the "second-born," his view of the royal system, and his inner conflicts all contribute to a solid, stable identity. This self-definition gives him unshakable confidence

Though he mocks others, he genuinely respects competence. He may envy someone’s strength, but he doesn’t deny it. This shows a quiet sense of fairness and appreciation for true merit.Leona has experienced emotional maturity—but the harsh kind.

He doesn’t live in idealism. He expects no fairness or mercy from the world.This early maturity led him to abandon dreams, but not understanding.He reads emotions clearly, but often chooses to detach rather than engage.His laughter is never pure.

He mocks, he teases, and turns serious moments into biting sarcasm. But this is how he deals with life’s absurdities.His humor is a shield—a way to dull the pain and vent his silent frustrations

His laughter is never pure. He mocks, he teases, and turns serious moments into biting sarcasm. But this is how he deals with life’s absurdities

His humor is a shield—a way to dull the pain and vent his silent frustrationsLeona is hyperaware of unfairness, especially in systems of rank, power, or bloodline

His resentment toward the throne isn’t just jealousy—it’s the ache of being "second best" no matter how capable he is.This gives him a rare emotional depth—he understands injustice profoundly, and even empathizes (secretly) with others who are overlooked.Though he acts indifferent, Leona hates being less than excellent

Sometimes, he self-sabotages, but deep down there’s always that voice whispering, "If I were first, I’d do it better."This internal tug-of-war between perfectionism and resignation fuels his ongoing frustration

He didn’t become Savanaclaw's dorm leader by accident. Leona possesses natural leadership instincts: he commands order, earns respect, and maintains control.If not for his bitterness toward the idea of kingship, he could’ve become a truly great ruler

he really appreciate peaceful places.This isn’t just laziness—it’s a genuine desire for inner calm, for a world without pressure or comparison.There’s a quiet poet in him, one who seeks peace more than praise.

Leona loves the sun, silence, and lying in. He doesn’t trust easily. He rarely opens up.But this is measured caution, not coldness.

He chooses his inner circle with precision—and when someone does earn his trust, the connection runs deep.He may act like he doesn't care, but Leona very much watches over those he deems “his pack.” If someone messes with someone he respects or cares about—good luck to them.

He doesn’t pick on the weak for no reason. If someone’s in trouble and not deserving of it, Leona’s likely to step in—even if silently.

He doesn’t need to bark orders. People follow him because he carries authority effortlessly. He’s the kind of leader others naturally look to during chaos.

His sarcasm, while biting, often breaks tension in a group. His dry humor and blunt honesty can snap others out of spiraling emotions.

You don’t have to pretend around him. In fact, he hates fake people. That makes him a refreshing presence in a world full of masks.

He may not baby people, but he pushes them to grow. Think tough love. He believes in potential and won’t tolerate you wasting it

He acts like he’s not paying attention, but he hears everything. He’s just selective about what he responds to.

He knows when to speak, when to stay quiet, and how to manipulate social settings to his benefit. He can be a powerful ally in political or group games.

Can Be Playfully Teasing (in a Flirty or Older-Brother Way) When in a good mood, he’s actually fun. He teases others in a way that builds camaraderie (especially if he likes you)

He relates to being overlooked or misunderstood. If he sees that in someone else, he’s more likely to defend them—silently, but strongly.

He’s socially aware enough to know when someone’s lying, manipulating, or just insecure. And while he won’t always call it out, he keeps track

He complains. He sighs. He grumbles. But if you need something—resources, help, advice—he’ll give it. Just don’t expect him to admit he cares

He acts annoyed, but younger students often look up to him. He mentors (grudgingly), and they trust his strength and clarity in messy situations.

He might roast you when you're being dramatic or annoying, but if you're truly suffering, he won't make it worse. He might even help... secretly.

He’s literally known for being one of the best strategists in NRC. Chessboard thinking? That’s his playground. Long-term planning? He’s already on it.

In combat scenarios, Leona doesn’t just rely on brute force—he reads the opponent, sets traps, uses terrain, and plays the long game.

He’s the type who could lead an army with minimal casualties—not because he’s soft, but because he calculates everything with precision.

He breaks down problems quickly, often seeing the flaws and strengths in a system or idea within minutes

He’s not easily fooled by appearances or sweet words—he catches subtext, ulterior motives, and inconsistencies without needing to be told

When he does participate in academics, his answers are terrifyingly well-informed. He understands magic on a theoretical and practical level

If something interests him—or benefits him—he learns it fast. He doesn’t need repetition. Just one explanation, and boom: he’s got it.

He doesn’t rely on traditional solutions. He improvises, thinks laterally, and finds unexpected ways out of sticky situations.

His brain works better under pressure. While others panic, Leona gets quieter, sharper, and deadlier. That’s intellectual control.

He has a deep grasp of politics, social hierarchy, and systemic oppression—he doesn’t just survive in them, he understands how to play them.

When he does talk seriously, every word hits hard. He’s eloquent in a cutting, elegant, minimalistic way—proof of a disciplined mind

Coming from royalty, it’s implied he knows more than one language—another sign of his well-rounded education and elite mind

As second prince, he was raised among scholars and political figures. He knows the histories of his kingdom and others, even if he doesn’t flaunt it.

He doesn’t waste energy. Some people rush into action to prove intelligence; Leona waits, watches, and then strikes smart.

His worldview might be jaded, but it’s deeply rooted in realistic analysis. He sees the world as it is, not how it should be—and that’s intellectual maturity.Leon

's got that athletic-lion frame—broad shoulders, lean muscle, strong arms, and a toned core. He’s not bulky, but efficient and defined. Like a jungle king sculpted for dominance.

His thick, long, dark brown hair has a lion's mane quality—voluminous, untamed, and regal. It’s a symbol of power and a total hair envy moment.

That sun-kissed skin radiates warmth and royalty — i really hate those redesigning posts in wich artists blackwash or whitewash him, that dude is so pretty and perfect. why do you change him??

His eyes aren’t just pretty—they slice. Sharp, intelligent, observant—they can be teasing, deadly, or warm, depending on who’s looking

Leona doesn’t just walk—he glides. Every move is fluid, controlled, and balanced. His body awareness is animalistic in its elegance

Let’s not forget those subtly sharp teeth. When he smirks, it’s dangerous. When he grins wide? Predatory. Hot.

As a beastman with lion DNA, his lower body strength is no joke. He’s quick, can leap far, and has that crouch-ready spring energy when he moves.

His default expression is unreadable with a hint of contempt—which makes people respectfully scared and also kinda obsessed.

His voice? Low. Calm. Effortlessly commanding

He leans back in chairs, lounges like a king who knows no one can touch him, and it somehow works.Effortless power pose, always.

Big, veined, capable hands. You just know he can snap someone’s wand or braid your hair—both, with the same fingers

He’s never twitchy, never awkward. Every move is calculated or slow, giving him that aura of absolute composure.

He might act lazy, but the man can FIGHT. He’s built for it. Fast reflexes, strength, and endurance are all baked into his frame.

Defined jaw, slanted eyes, sculpted nose—his face is literally sharp in a modelesque, feral way. Like he walked out of an ancient mural.

His tail isn’t just cute—it’s expressive, powerful, and adds to his animal-like grace. Bonus: It moves when he’s emotional, giving him an accidental tell

He doesn’t over-express, but when he does lift an eyebrow, narrow his eyes, or smirk? You feel it in your soul

i headcanon beastmen have stronger natural scents. Leona probably smells earthy, sun-warmed, maybe a little spicy—dangerously comforting. I really don't understand (and will never accept) thqt leona stinks, over my dead body

His wardrobe—sleeveless, low-cut, golden accessories, flowing scarves—enhances every physical trait. It screams royalty, heat, and confidence, all at once

Leona doesn’t need constant noise or stimulation. He can sit in silence for hours, comfortable in his own head. That kind of internal stillness is rare—and deeply spiritual.

He may not follow society’s rules, but he does follow a personal code. He believes in fairness, loyalty, strength, and truth—even if he doesn’t advertise it. That internal compass? That’s sacred ground

This man respects sleep like it’s a religion. And honestly? That’s self-care royalty behavior. He knows when to rest, unplug, and recover

Leona doesn’t waste energy on things that don’t matter. If it’s not necessary, helpful, or respectful to him, he’s not doing it. Efficiency king

instead of being everywhere, all the time, Leona chooses who he gives his presence to. His social battery isn’t drained because he manages it like a pro.

No pretending. No fakery. No smiling because it’s polite. He is genuinely himself 24/7, and it’s wildly liberating.

His dorm, his spaces, his vibe—it’s quiet, earthy, calm. He curates a chill environment, which reflects his inner need for stillness

soft beds, warm sunbeams, delicious food—he doesn’t deprive himself or punish his body. He treats comfort as a right, not a luxury.

he doesn’t overcomplicate his routines. He keeps his look simple but sharp, his habits minimal but meaningful. That’s elite living

No, he’s not helping you with your homework at 2 a.m unless you are really close to him. No, he won’t attend a meeting just because you asked. His time? Sacred

He doesn’t need ten people’s opinions. He trusts his instincts and moves forward. That kind of self-reliance is freeing

Leona doesn’t fear being alone—he thrives in it. He reflects, rests, and recharges solo, proving he has a strong, independent core.

Yes, he’s a prince. But you don’t see him rubbing it in people’s faces. His lifestyle is chill, grounded, and never performative.

Leona doesn’t rush. He moves slowly, lives slowly, eats slowly. His lifestyle is mindful, not frenzied—and that’s deeply powerful.

His room might look messy, his schedule might seem weird, but he knows exactly what he’s doing. His life is chaos-coded with precision.

Leona sleeps when he’s tired, eats when he’s hungry, works when he’s motivated. He doesn’t override his body—he coexists with it.

Some people panic without noise or productivity. Leona? He’ll nap in silence for hours. He’s at peace with stillness, which is rare.

Above all, Leona’s lifestyle is unapologetically his own. Every habit, every pattern, every lazy afternoon in the sun? It’s for him. And that’s a powerful, deeply positive way to live

He doesn’t need flashy tools or endless support. Give him a little, and he’ll do a lot. He’s survival-level smart.

He’s not one for long lectures, but when he steps in, he shows you how it’s done. He leads by example, not fluff.

Leona knows what he can and can’t do, and that means he doesn’t waste time chasing impractical goals. He works smarter, not harder.

He doesn’t micromanage—he delegates. He sees what others are good at and plugs them into the plan like puzzle piecesDrop him into a new place, new problem, new crew? He’ll adjust in seconds and still be the sharpest guy in the room.

He doesn’t chase instant gratification (unless it’s a nap). When it matters, he’ll play the long game to win the war, not just a battle.

Possibly the most practical trait of all—he doesn’t throw himself at lost causes. If something’s beyond saving, he walks. No guilt, no second-guessing

Leona doesn’t think straight—he thinks sideways. He’ll solve a problem in a way you didn’t even consider existed. It’s not just smart—it’s creative genius.

His magic isn’t just powerful—it’s versatile. He bends spells to fit scenarios like a seasoned tactician, not just a textbook nerd

Whether it’s Spell Drive or power dynamics, Leona treats every situation like a chess board. But he plays in 3D. That’s artistic warfare

He sees patterns in politics, systems, people—and imagines new possibilities. He knows what could be, not just what is

His snark is intentional. He uses sarcasm and teasing to disarm, confuse, or humble others without aggression. That’s clever emotional play.

Born as a prince, Leona received a high-level, well-rounded education—politics, diplomacy, war theory, etiquette, law, literature. He's basically been groomed to rule since diapers

He probably knows a ton about his kingdom’s history, traditions, and spiritual beliefs. A walking cultural archive with a snarl.

Leona doesn't just memorize facts—he applies them. His magic isn’t showy—it’s effective, smart

What he doesn’t learn formally, he teaches himself. If something catches his curiosity (plants, sandstorms, ancient texts, war beasts?), he dives deep

he can drive, he will take you out whenever and wherever you want! you can go and chill outside or even ask for fun things to do — Like drifting or teaching you how to drive!

Leona’s no clueless rich kid. He understands how money works: savings, investments, budgeting. He’s not just rich—he’s smart about it

He grew up as second prince, constantly overlooked. That probably taught him to never take resources for granted—even if he has plenty

Leona doesn't waste money. If he's spending, it's for something high-value: something useful, effective, or something that brings long-term benefit

He’s minimalist. No obsession with material clutter. That means more saved cash, less frivolous spending

He’s not showy, but if someone needs financial help and earns his respect, he’ll offer it—no strings, no pity, no announcements. but in secret..like when you randomly find money in your room without knowing where it came from

Leona doesn't fall for sob stories or guilt traps. He’s generous with sense. He protects his wealth from manipulators or fake friends

He’s not a gambler. He calculates outcomes before committing financially—be it in business, alliances, or literal spending

Need to survive on a tight allowance or organize a supply plan for a team? Leona can budget down to the decimal

He doesn’t wear diamonds on his face to prove a point. His wealth is quiet confidence, not loud noise. That’s powerful restraint

Let’s be real: Leona has a mental ledger. If you owe him money—or a favor—he remembers. And he collects

Leona controls his wealth—it doesn’t control him. He doesn’t tie his identity to status symbols or numbers in a vault. That emotional detachment keeps his decisions clean and sharp

He always knows when you’re upset—even before you realize it yourself. He doesn’t press, but he gives space and presence in perfect balance

If you’re easily flustered? Good luck. Leona thrives off teasing—especially when it makes you blush or snap at him. But it’s all with that lazy, fond smirk that says “you’re mine and I love watching you squirm."

You’re stressed? He’ll fix it. Someone upset you? They’re on his list. You need rest? He’ll drag you into bed and put you to sleep on his chest like you’re royalty

You want to work? Travel? Follow your dreams? He’s your biggest supporter—silently investing in your freedom, not caging it

as a husband — Leona doesn’t blow up unless you really push him. He listens more than he reacts, and when he does argue—it’s direct, honest, and aimed at growth. Not drama

Marriage isn’t a game to Leona. It’s a vow. He won’t walk out after one fight. He’ll stay, even when it’s hard, because you’re his pride now

He might not be the loudest dad in the park, but his kids know he sees them, hears them, and values their every word—even when they’re annoying him mid-nap (he actually enjoys it and will pull them into a hug)

His parenting style is half-roast, half-praise. He’ll call the kid “brat” one second and give him the last slice of pie the next

He teaches his kids how to stand tall. Not just physically, but mentally. “Don’t let anyone make you feel small—even me.”

Someone bullies his child? Leona’s at the school before you even finish your sentence. No mercy

He doesn’t say “because I said so.” He explains why things matter. He raises thinkers, not robots

He pretends he hates it. But his voice goes low and warm as he tells stories of old kings, brave beasts, and clever lions. His tail swishes slow, his arms cradle, and his pride glows when he sees his child safe and sleeping

i don't know...but i think if he had 2 kids he will be so protective and careful with the younger one, he will try to not repeat his own trauma and past with his baby. he will always treat the siblings with equality

he doesn't care about family traditions and would definitely marry you even if everyone said no

temporal leona — Your favorite drink? The exact look you gave him the first time you laughed at his sarcasm? His kid’s first tumble? Locked in his mind like sacred gold. He may not show it—but he remembers

He collects memories like quiet trophies. He won’t have a thousand photos on the wall—but there’ll be one pressed flower from a date, one old toy on a shelf, one scratch on his staff he refuses to polish. They’re all yours.

He doesn’t take you out every weekend—but when he does, it’s a meaningful place. A “first met here,” or “you said you liked stars that one time” kind of spot

Being around him feels like time slows. Like the stress fades, the world hushes, and you can just be. Naps with him aren’t just naps—they’re soul resets

He doesn’t talk much, but he sees it all: the way you got bolder this year. How the kid stopped stumbling when they run. And he’s so proud—you can see it in his tail’s slow flick and half-smirk

Once he’s over it—he’s over it. He doesn’t hold petty grudges with you or his kids. He’s here to build, not to fester

Some of the best moments with him don’t involve talking. Just lying under the stars, feeling his tail curl against your leg, his heartbeat syncing with yours

He’s a surprise memory-keeper. One day you’ll find out he kept a box under his bed: your first love note, a drawing your kid made, a broken charm from that one vacation. He never told you. He just kept them

He’s not haunted—he’s seasoned. He’ll tell his kid stories of his wild school days with a grin, then teach them how to do better. Always looking ahead

Your anniversary? The date his child learned to walk? The day you wore that one outfit and he couldn’t look away? He’ll never forget. Even if he plays like he did

No big speeches. No grand declarations. But the way he fixes your blanket at night, or massages your hand when arthritis sets in… that’s him saying: “I’ll be here. Every year. Every wrinkle. Every sigh. Until the end.”

if you see anyone asking you why you love leona, just send them this🙏🏻my hand broke and my brain broke more writing this shit

i fucking love leona ⏤͟͟͞͞★

𓏲̣̇. Thanks For Reading! ⏤͟͟͞͞★

[fandomtherapy44]

Leading moments Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader PT2

Summary: Y/n and Spencer have been dating for a while now. And everything is amazing, just one thing. The subject of fun times in bed is hanging in the air. So Y/n finally decides to cut through the air.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! reader

WC: 2,220

Warnings: SMUT 18+, language, a Little bit of dom Spenc, talk about bullying and name-calling

Reblog Banner & divider

& 18+ banner

cafekitsune

Here is Pt 1 if you're interested

Reid and I have been dating for three months now, and they have been amazing. I have never felt more love in my entire life. There is just one thing: we haven't had a fun time in bed, not to be crass. And there is nothing wrong with that, it’s just the longer that we avoid this part of our relationship, the more I fear that he’s not attracted to me like that. And I have been throwing every hint in the book at him. Like the other day, after a tough case, I suggested that maybe we should give each other a massage, and then he proceeded to tell me the benefits of massages. I love that man, but sometimes I want to throw him out the window.

“So, how has dating Mr. Genius been going?” Gracia asked me as we sat down for our daily get-together coffee before our very busy day.

“It’s been amazing, Spencer is so romantic. The other day, he surprised me with two tickets to the museum of art and language!” 

“Who knew Wonder Boy had game. And how’s the sex been?” Gracia just openly asks at a normal level, making me spit out my coffee and cough.

“Gracia! You can’t just ask that!” I wipe the now-spilled coffee off my shirt.

“Okay fine… how’s the fun time in bed going?” She raises her eyebrows up and down.

“Actually, it’s not going and I’m getting worried. That he doesn’t like me in that way.” 

“Oh, sweetie, I promise you it’s not that. Reid is head over heels in love with you, and he checks you out every time you leave the room. He tries to hide, but he doesn't have much practice, I guess.”

“Really? Then what’s the problem? Because I've practically been screaming that I want him with all my lace PJs and touches to his inner thighs.” I cross my arms in frustration.

“With Reid, he is a pure fact man, so unless you spell it out, I don’t think he’s going to get it, and trust me with the way he looks at you, he wants it.” 

Okay, this is the night! We've had a whole day just to ourselves, no psycho killers stopping us, thankfully. I'm just going to say it to him point blank, period, hopefully I don’t chicken out. We're in the middle of a movie and we’re holding hands, okay, here I go.

“Hey, Reid.” He turns his head to me.

“Mhh?” 

“I don’t think I got enough kisses today.”

He chuckles and leans down to me. “I think I can fix that.” He leans in and gives me a sweet, short kiss before I can really pull him in, damnit!

“Maybe one more?” I look up at him with bedroom eyes, but he still doesn't seem to see it.

“Of course, anything for you.” This time, I put my hands around his neck to pull him into my body. I kiss his upper lip like it’s soft-served vanilla ice cream. He seems to like it. Time for the kill. I gently push my tongue forward. He takes the bait. Our tongues gently come together in a beautiful dance. We let go, breathing heavily. 

“I want you,” I whisper. At that, he backs away. “Reid, are you okay? I’m sorry if I pushed you too much. If it’s that-”

“No, no, it’s not. I'm most comfortable with you.” 

“Okay… Are you a… virgin? Cause if you are, that’s totally fi-”

“I'm not a virgin.”

“Then I don’t understand what the problem is?” He sighs.

“In college, I was freshly nineteen and even at one of the most sought-after Ivy League schools, I was still a nerd. So no girl would even look at me, and then one day a girl named Bella Carn asked me on a date, and one thing led to another, we had sex. I thought it was great, but apparently, I was just a joke and bet to her. She posted on the school board about how I was and laughed to her friends that I was small and horrible. Everyone knew I couldn't go anywhere without being called pencil.” He finishes looking down.

“Wow what a fucking bitch, Spenc I understand if you don’t want to but I want you, all of you I promise you I won’t laugh, I won’t gossip, I will make you feel everything you make me feel.” I grab his hand and rub small circles.

“Really?”

“Spencer Reid, you are the most attractive man I have ever met, with how smart and kind you are, not to mention your whole appearance. When I was drunk that one time, my sober thoughts came out and I meant every word.” His cheeks burned, remembering what I had said.

“I have the same thoughts about you.” He says to me, and it makes my heart beat fast, It makes me happy about what I was thinking earlier.

“Then how about we go slow, and if you want to stop, we will.” I give him a sweet kiss. That he deepens. I slowly lower myself onto the couch with him on top of me. Our tongues meet again. This time in a fiery passion. I circle his mouth, memorizing it like a map. We dislocate a string of saliva between our lips. 

“Can I… go on your neck?” Spenc asks hesitantly.

“You can do whatever you want, Doc.” He starts to kitten lick my neck. And stops at a specific spot. And sucks down, I grab his shirt. He bites down hard.

“Shit! Spenc.” Who knew Spencer Reid would be a little dominant?

“Sorry.”

“No, babe, it’s great, keep going please.” And he does, he lets up and licks to soothe. Yup, definitely a hickie there now. He takes off his shirt, and he has more muscle than he lets on, must be all those textbooks. I also take off mine.

“And I thought I saw true beauty in Mona Lisa. I was wrong.” He says. Staring at me.

“Okay, chessball, can we take off our pants now?” He shakes his head vigorously. We go back to kissing, I’m so enraptured by it that I don’t feel his hand inching its way to my panties. He pets my slit through the fabric. I moan through our lips. He goes up and down slowly, gathering moisture through my underwear. He slips his hand in. Finding the little nub of nerves that makes anyone explode. He circles it, making the alphabet. Stroking it teasingly, motherfucker knew what he was doing. The finger trails up and down my slit and keeps on skipping over where I want it. His other hand goes to my bra and pulls my bra up and rubs my nipples, which are now standing tall from the cold in the air and the heat combined between us. 

“So fucking angelic.” Spencer mubles, making my cheeks burn red. He then gets one of his best ideas ever. And goes down on my tit. Swirling his tongue around my nipple tugging on it lightily making enough desaouilsy sour pain that went right to my pussy. He then puts his finger in. And his fingers are long and thick. It starts to pump in.

“Ahh fuck! Spencer!” 

“Do you like that?”

“Yes, yes, I do.” He goes deeper with that. Twirling his finger around my warm velvet walls, touching all the right places. At this point, wetness is just seeping out. Then he starts to go faster in and out. I was rocking my body with him. He somehow slips in another. They just keep going faster. I start to clench around them.

“Spenc Im going to-” I didn’t even get to finish talking before I cummed. He looked at his fingers, and they were shining in the lamp light. He stares at them for a moment and almost hesitantly licks them. He pauses for a second and sucks on them. 

“Spencer?” No guy had ever acted like that, and not going to lie it was hot. He doesn't answer me and kisses me again, tongue shooting straight in. I could taste myself, and I was getting turned on again from it. I moved my hand down to his briefs and felt his bulge through the fabric, poor boy. “Did you get turned on from fingering me?” I asked between the passion-filled kisses.

“Uh… yes, is that okay?” 

“Spencer Reid I could marry you right now.” In that my hand slipped in the briefs. “Now it’s my turn.” I whisper in his ear, nipping at his earlobe.

“Y/n, you don’t have to.” He almost moaned as I stroked his cock. This guy had so much pent-up sexual frustration that he would probably pop if I pumped it once. We’ll have to change that. 

“Reid, I want to, now you lay back, Doc, it’s my time to take care of you.” He leans back on the couch as I get on my knees. I pull down his briefs and his swollen red cock is alredy leaking precum. I guess fingering me really did turn him on. “Now I’m going to go slow. Tell me if you get uncomfortable, okay?”

He nods. “Okay.” I spit in my hand and I pump it very carefully. He tenses but he’s still good. I go up and down while keeping eye contact with him making sure that I very much want to this. “Can I give you a blowjob?” 

“When uh that girl did it, she gagged and said it was disgusting.” 

“I promise I won’t do that.”

“Then… yes, please.” I smile, lean down, and it fully goes in. And it’s fucking big and pulseing in my mouth. Pencil my ass. I start to go up and down. Tongue licks all over. I go to fondle his balls and he loves that. I start to suck on it like a popsicle. He starts to pump in. And before I know it he came in my mouth. I swallow i.t. He slides out of my mouth.

“I’m sorry… I” 

“It’s okay Reid the more we do it the more youre body will get use to it.”

“THe more we do it?”

“Yup so we can do it a lot if you-”

“Yes.” He quickly says. “And I uh I still want to have sex tonight if you want.”

“Oh, definitely, because that just turned me on even more. And I'm clean and on the pill, so if you're good, I don’t want a condom.” I shimmy off my panties and sit on his lap. We start to make out again. I take my hand and grab his cock to hold it up.

“I'm going to sink down, okay?” He just nods. I move his cock over my folds and even just the teasing I want to scream. I push it in and slink down.

“Ahh, Oh my gosh, you're big.” I breathlessly let out. His cock strenchs through my walls with a little burn but it was good.

“Yeah… I am?” He was trying to hold it together because as soon as he entered me, he wanted to pound up. His hand go to grab my ass. It’s adjusting quite well.

“I'm going to start moving kay.” I grab his shoulders and I go up and down with ease. To be honest, it’s been a while for me, too, and no sex toy will ever be a replacement for the real thing. He is gripping my hips, trying not to junt up.

“How is it, baby?” I ask in a whisper-moan voice. He can barely respond.

“It’s… incredible, so wet and warm gripping me like it never wants to let go.” He gets out, looking at our connected bodies. I rise up and go back down ever so slightly. I put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself. Having his cock in me felt incedibale. With each push up my pussy keeps on gripping him. His cock veins added a texture that I never knew I needed. 

“I'm going to speed up, okay?” I say in his ear, and he nods. I start to make small baonces so we can both feel it at the same time. Wet, sinful sounds fill the room. Adding to our arousal, I bring our lips back together and slide our tongues together. He moans into my mouth sucking on my tongue from the plesure growing between us. Fingers go up to my chest to squeeze, and at that, my whole system gets flooded with a new sensation. His other ones go to my clit.

“Fuck Spenc I’m going to cum…” I somehow get out through our heavy breaths.

“Me too…” At that, I bring myself fully up and go down realseling us both. I slide off of him. 

“You were… I don’t even know the words, Spencer.” We were now laying next to each other the air thick with the smell of sweat and sex.

“You think so, I… I read things about the woman's experience of sex, so when we did do this, I could make you feel good.” This small confession adds another reason why I love this man.

I bring him in a slow, sweet kiss, putting all my emotion into it. “I love you, Spencer Reid.” 

[secretdiaryofcrowley]

And my absolute highlight at Proud Nerd Con was, of course, meeting David Tennant.

I can tell you, he really is a wonderful person. Often when you meet actors in real life, it's a little bit of a disappointment, and the things we love about them, are just show. That's not the case with him.

He cares for his fans, and he means it. It was an incredible busy day for him, autograph sessions, photoshots, meet and greets, and pannels, he really was rushing from one thing to the next all day. But he went out of his way caring for his fans, even when he was getting tired at the end of the day.

He answered as many questions as possible, he had smiles and kind words for everyone, and even some hugs (with asking consent first, of course.). It really felt like he had adopted all of us.

He loved being at the convention. He called it "absolutely bananas" and said he enjoyed the cheerful atmosphere. Everybody got to be themselves, and no one needed to hide anything.

He is also incredibly funny. And it's not that kind of funny that mocks other people that you see so often in bad comedians. He loves to tell stories, he loves to play with with language, and he really had us laughing our heads off. His jokes are silly (the good kind), and his humour is incredibly intelligent.

His charms and great personality carried a big part of the event and turned it from a wonderful day into a truly magical day. Everyone was still glowing on the bus ride back to the train station.

[covenha]

Synopsis: Seonghwa watches Hongjoong crash and burn and decides to revisit a good ole tactic to help his buddy out. This is a two-part spin off of the simp!verse. Pairings: nerd!hongjoong x fem!reader Genre: crack, technically angst?? but it gets better in the next part I swear, fluff honestly god bless hongjoong's heart Warnings: none that I can think of tbh but if i missed anything please lmk! WC: 808 a/n: I am finally back and this is my proof of life. had a bajillion exams and things to study for so I took an unintended hiatus but I finally have time since it's christmas break and I am so excited to be extending the ateez simpverse! as always, none of the characters' behaviors in this fic represent their personalities in real life. and reblogs and feedbacks are always deeply appreciated and keep me motivated to write these things so they are highly encouraged :))

Nerd!joong takes a long look at himself in the mirror, he’s sporting a brand new letterman jacket over his simple blue jeans and white t-shirt. He looked put together. So why was he so nervous today? 

Well, it’s a bit of a long story. You see, today was not just any ordinary weekday for Hongjoong. Today, he will finally muster up the courage to talk to a girl he’s had the fattest crush on since he first laid his eyes on you in his introductory Philosophy class. 

With a jittery kick in his step. He gets ready for his commute to school, calling out to any deity out there for some good luck. 

“God, what’s got you so worked up today? If you shake any harder, you’ll be putting Mrs. Hong’s rose toy to shame.” Seonghwa points out his nervous body language. Hongjoong is staring at the entrance to the amphitheater with laser focus. He’s fidgeting with his fingers and his legs are bouncing up and down. 

“I’m just waiting for her to get here…” Hongjoong trails off, not daring to look away from the door for more than a few seconds. 

“So, you’re really going to go for it? I mean, from what I hear she can be a little cutthroat, Joong.” Seonghwa warns him, but his words shoot through his ear and out the opposite. 

There were rumors going around that you were not exactly all sunshine and rainbows. You seemingly had a neutral face plastered on your face, only showing a smile every now and then with your small circle of friends. Seonghwa would describe you as “such a scorpio” with your sharp gaze, almost resembling a black cat in a way. Jongho and Wooyoung had heard that you were quite blunt and straight to the point. And although there is nothing necessarily wrong with that, they feared it may be too much for Hongjoong’s heart. But alas, he was smitten with you. 

From the way you look so cute when you’re concentrating while taking notes, or how you tugged at your sleeves when the weather grew colder. So when you finally walk through those doors, his heart picks up its pace and his eyes widen. 

You looked beautiful today. Of course, you always looked beautiful to him. You settle down in your usual spot on the left side of the seats and he slowly makes his way towards you. He takes a deep breath as he nears your seat and then stops right where you are seated. 

“Can I help you?”, you ask him. 

He realizes he had been standing beside your seat for an uncomfortable while, merely just staring at you. Oh God, you probably thought he was a creep! Quick, do something. Compliment her! Girls like compliments right? 

“I like your scarf!” Hongjoong manages to blurt out, in spite of the massive brain fart going on inside of his head. Unfortunately, he says it a little bit too loud, causing people in the area to shift their focus to the both of you, making you want to shrink into your seat. In the distance, Seonghwa can be seen face-palming as he watches his friend crash and burn in real time. 

“.... thanks?” you mutter. 

“Uhm, I was wondering what your ideal type of guy is?” Hongjoong finally musters up the courage to say something with actual substance. This was the moment he had been waiting for. All those weeks of yearning, the longing glances at you in class, the sudden get-up with his outfit today. It all led to this moment where he finally has the courage to- 

“I like guys who don’t talk to me.” Your words put an abrupt stop to his train of thought. 

“Oh.” 

“Joong, it’s gonna be fine. There’s plenty of other people in the world! Maybe she just isn’t the one for you.” Seonghwa tries to reason out with a tipsy Hongjoong in their shared dorm room. 

“But she was gonna be my wiiiiiiiife!” he whines at his friend. 

“We were gonna raise some kitties with a cute little catio in the back of the house and, and, and I was going to cook her breakfast in the mornings and we were going to live happily ever after with our scorpio babies!” he rambles on, distraught at his planned future with you not going exactly to plan. 

“Hongjoong you guys are not married.” Seonghwa corrects his drunk friend. 

“We are in the sims!” He pouts. 

Seonghwa sighs. Hongjoong was deep into his feelings for you and confirmed Seonghwa’s deepest fears. Hongjoong was a simp. (On this blog we love simp!joong!!)

And as he stared at his forlorn simp of a best friend, he knew what he had to do. He had to consult the Reddit gods. He was going to use the power of manifestation. 

[raccoonscupoftea]

🎮A Gamers profession

Timeskip!Kenma Kozume X F!Y/n

Summary: Y/n and Kenma are a couple, also living together. While Kenma is streaming and struggling with a game, he soon admitted to need help from you, a professional game breaker.

Warnings: Nerd talk, SFW, possible grammar mistakes, cause english is not my native language.

| MASTERLIST | REQUESTS |

//----//----//----//

You love your job. It's fun, well paying and not so stressful. Kenma, your boyfriend, also likes your job, but sometimes he just wants you to stuff your face with a pillow when he's playing, especially when he's livestreaming.

You often get to know the next top game before everyone else. You get information on a game while it's still in the making and you have to play the game for endless hours before it's officiall release.

You're not designing the game or anything. No, you're here to break the game into pieces, testing limits, testing the code, testing AI. If it breaks, then the developers have more work to do. Or they simply just decide it is going to be a 'feature'. It's their choice. You just deliver the bugs to them.

So, then why does kenma want to shut you up sometimes?

Because of your job, you have developed a very good sense for game mechanics, attack patterns and the more advanced stuff on how a game is build. When Kenma encounteres a boss, he just knows you could beat it in a few minutes. He knows you could rush to an over the top overpowered boss and never get hit once, thou it would take longer to beat it.

It's when Kenma's visibly is frustrated, staring at his screen with an unhealthy posture, you then sometimes get up from your couch and take a look at what he's struggling with. As soon as you got into frame the viewers will start to spam the chat with messages about you.

Mostly just spamming your name but others will write absurd things like "mama's here to help" or "the professional is watching"

You just have to stand behind the chair and kenma starts to tell you to not say anything.

"Don't you dare tell me, I want to find it out myself" he complains and you just put up your hands "I didn't do anything, I'm just watching, but tell me if you need help"

So far he never needed help from you. He of course is an intelligent and very good gamer himself. Never have you doubted him.

___

You're currently on your own pc in a separate Office in your and Kenma's home. With a switch controller in your hands and feet up on a footrest, you happily enjoy playing some animal crossing on the bigger screen of your gaming setup.

Today's quiet cold so you're wearing a wearable blanked with a hoodie combined. It looks like a cat. On your table is a steaming hot tea, waiting to be cooled down a little. You were fishing all around the island in game to get the last fish of the museum collection, but the sporadic waves of tiredness are definitely not doing you a favour when it comes to pressing the right button at the right time. The game definitely knows how to get you so relaxed you could fall asleep right then and there in your gaming chair.

Another wave made you a little more tired than the usual waves. This time you had doze off for a few seconds before jolting back awake and continued your fishing spree. Work definitely was a bit to much with the winter holidays coming up and a lot of new games wanting to be released in early spring. Is also added up to your tiredness.

You glanced over to the time on your Pc and realised it's only 4pm, definitely to early to sleep now. You also know that Kenma was streaming for an hour now, since he always starts at 3pm.

Thou you don't learn from your mistake to play animal crossing while nearly dozing off and just continued, but rather than fishing you instead decided to continue to decorate the island.

It went well for the first hour. You made a plan and checked on the internet if there's the suitable furniture for it. The first decorations had been placed on their right spot, paths has been made but just a few minutes after the first hour, the tiredness has claimed you back.

While you were in the office relaxing every bone to a complete flat line, the person in the other office was nearly about to destroy a keyboard. The boss he was fighting was beating kenma every time to 0 HP. Kenma had stopped yesterday's stream in a near rage quit but today he had to beat it to get further in the game. He hasn't got past the boss and was getting more and more frustrated as well as confused. Sometimes he swears the boss just doesn't take damage and gets a massive attack bonus. Chat is convinced the boss wasn't beatable and was begging to kenma to bring out the game breaker, aka you.

Of course, he denied it at first but after an hour of trying and dying he finally gave up. Without a word he placed down his headphones, pushed his microphone back a little bit and walked out of the frame. His viewers were ecstatic and surprised that he'll need help from you.

As kenma was busting open the door to your office, the loud noise of the door made you jolt up from your chair. Your hair went places and the hoodie blanket went all the way up to your chin, telling kenma without a word that you were sleeping in your chair just now.

"I was definitely not sleeping" You stated in your defense with a sleep drunk voice, but Kenma did not believe you and smiled at how cuddly you looked. With a quick glance at the time you asked the streamer "Quit already? You're usually up till late at night"

Kenma placed his hands in the pocket of the black hoodie he's wearing and sighed, remembering why he's here in the first place "I think the game's bugged. I can't defeat the boss. I tried so many times" He slightly looked away, feeling a bit embarrassed about asking you.

At the word 'bugged' you stood up, placed the switch controller on the desk and walked over to him. You slipped your hands into his hoodie and took his hands in your own. "let's see what I can do"

The two of you went to his streaming room, but before you entered, the hood from your blanket hoodie went over your head to hide this atrocious mess of hair on your head. You quickly checked your appearance in the hallway mirror. As soon as the viewers got a glance at you and what you're wearing, they all typed in chat 'You're looking so cozy rn' 'where did you buy it?' 'looks so fluffy' 'I want to cuddle with you'

You waved at the camera to greed the viewers and kenma gestured you to sit down in his chair. You smiled at your boyfriend and placed your feet also on the chair, making you a cozy fluffy blanket ball.

He then quickly explained to you what he was doing and what was happening. Kenma then also pulled over another chair to sit down and watch you. You first tried your best max out attack and defence with his current equipment, but there wasn't even a slightest chance. You voiced out a small "Huh?" Before trying again.

The viewers could see on your face that something was up. You aren't a streamer and wasn't talking while playing the game and kenma knew to not disturb your concentration, but the viewers still seemed to enjoy watching you trying the best you could. It was the first time you were seriously playing a game with the intention to win and they were all very ecstatic as you tried to not get hit. One could tell how everyone was excited at this moment, the chat also was getting slower.

After half an hour, you had placed down the controller. The boss could hit the hero, because they weren't dodging anymore and the player dies in an instant. The question marks around your head were very visible. Something definitely is not right here. As soon as the game went to its pause menu, the viewers knew something serious it about to happen.

You grabbed the laptop from Kenma, booted it up, put in his password without a fail and went to the internet. The website from your work company appeared after a few clicks and at this moment Kenma realised what was happening.

He looked over to his camera and explained laughing "Guys, I apparently found a bug. Stuffs about to get serious now" The chat was then filled with suprised emojis. It didn't took 5 minutes and a donation came in.

Kenma glanced over to the donation site and read out loud "Thank you catlover51 for the..." He stopped a second as he saw the amount that was donated and was clearly surprised "Thank you for the 100$ and you had written down 'For Y/n, a little compensation gor having to work now' again thank you very much. You really didn't neet to donate so much"

As Kenma read the donation out loud you had began to smile behind the laptop sceen. Others then jumped onto the train as well and donated money from a single dollar to a little lager than 50$. Kenma was slightly overwhelmed my the sheer amount of donations that came in and couldn't stop thanking everyone, nearly shutting down the donation site so no one could waste more money on them. It was then you who calmed them down after finishing your research. You looked back to the camera and placed the laptop to the side "You don't need to pay me for this. It's my job and I love doing it. Also I get paid whenever I work, so I'm currently earning my money. But thank you for your concern" you smiled brightly at them before continuing to try out stuff in the game.

After some time nothing came out of the testing and you sighed. You glance over to your boyfriend, looking like a vet having to tell the owner some bad news. "You can't progress at this point, I'm sorry" His eyes widend "That's a joke right?" You just shook your head "Unfortunately not. You have found a very devastating bug, which stops you from killing the boss. As soon as an attack misses, the supposed damage gets stored and well... When the boss does hit you, then all of that stored damage gets released. That explains the bug with the one shot kill. This bug alone is manageable and already a known issue, but combined with the boss not taking any damage" you smiled at him with a sad face. "I'm sorry"

Kenma sighed and ruffled his hair "It's not your fault" he smiled and ruffled your hair as well. "Guess my save is busted then"

You took his hand in yours and looked him in the eyes. He squeezed your hand a little and looked back at you. There's a little spark in your eyes, telling him that there's something you could do "What are you up to?" He asked directly. Your eyes shift away, making you look innocent, scratching your cheek a little "I could force you out of the situation, by glitching you through a wall"

Usually kenma is against using glitches and exploits in his runs, but this is maybe the first occasion he'll consider it. He first looks at you with squinted eyes but then stood up "I'm going to the bathroom. Whatever you'll do, I'll don't know about it"

You're smile got bigger as he finished talking and went outside. He closed the door and after a little happy dance, you pressed onto respawn and forced the player to another part of the map. The viewers were watching your every step and were happy about you breaking a game infront of them.

As you were finished, you quickly saved the game and stood up, ready to leave.

"In my defence" you started talking into the camera a little bowed down to fit into the frame "I did not test this part of the game. Not my fault" You grabbed the open laptop and blew the viewers a goodbye kiss before you exited the streaming room.

On the way back to your own office, Kenma has finished his bathroom break. He grabbed your wrist before you could vanish into your room. He also grabbed the laptop and placed it on a sideboard. One hand of his wandered over to your waist, so he could pull you a little closer to him. "Thank you" he whisperd and gave you a little kiss on your cheek. "I'll make sure to finish today's stream a little earlier. Can't wait to cuddle you with this fluffy hoodie" he then again kissed your other cheek and headed back over to his room to see an alive character on a giant grassy field.

You on the other hand smiled and had to control your inner fangirl to not just scream and jump around. The viewers for sure could hear you if you were to loud.

You quickly grabbed Kenma's laptop and hid in your room, filling out a formula to get the new bug over to the Developers.