#that they have to read certain books and take certain classes

[struwberrii]

semi headcanons ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

here are some random general headcanons for semi eita my underrated king :3 (also pls it’s actually so hard to read this guys personality BEAR WITH ME!!)

look at this man and tell me he doesn’t play guitar

his notes app is literally filled with random lyrics and guitar riffs

also i can imagine him having a mac book and his photo booth app is just vids of him covering songs and playing guitar

it’s canon that tendou thinks his style kinda sucks so i imagine him just owning some of the most horrendous graphic t-shirts

likes taking walks in wooded areas and just listening to music and getting lost in thought

i feel like he would be the type of guy to make every conversation with someone he doesn’t rlly know too well super awkward

like the type of guy to say “you too!” when a server say enjoy your food

he gives me middle child vibes and i feel like he’d have an older brother who introduced him to cool bands and guitar

probably the type of guy to randomly get super philosophical

i feel like he’d be super gullible on certain topics too, like he probably believed a lot of those dumb internet shams for an absurd amount of time

would def judge your music taste silently then try to put you onto his favs

always in a bad mood/irritated but the second someone compliments him or is nice to him he’s wagging his tail

movie fanatic, he has seen every movie on the planet

i also feel like he’s 2011 older brother core, ykwim?

failing in school and knows he’s gonna have a hard time if he doesn’t get it together but has no motivation

beat up doc marten boots wearer

i honestly feel like he’d be kinda rude unintentionally and then be confused as to why people are calling him mean

also it’s canon that he’s in the lowest class at shiratorizawa so you already KNOW he’s a scholarship boy because no way he got in for those grades 😭😭😭

probably goes to the gym like twice a week because he forgets

spends literally 3 hours to do the simplest homework because every little thing distracts him

always smells like musky apples or rotten fruit for some reason

genuinely a chill person to be around if you understand his humor

pretends to play drums with his pencils on his desk

will stop talking mid conversation if he thinks of a good song lyric to write down

i feel like he would think he’s really deep and wise but he’s actually just kind of clueless 😭

mario kart champ

definitely the type of guy to get easily talked into doing stupid things like ufo hunting at 2 am on a school day

i actually imagine him to have a really deep and smooth singing voice (i could actually write a whole drabble abt band au semi)

probably has the worst diet ever, bro is eating leftover pizza for breakfast lunch dinner AND snacks

always thinking about his future but never doing anything to better his situation

has the comfiest sweaters but you’ll have to ignore the holes and questionable stains in weird places

type of guy to ruin your concert videos because his singing is so bad and off key

i also feel like his room would be really weirdly decorated, like he’d have a stolen stop sign up as decoration and then like holes punched in his walls and missing light bulbs

always has a lighter on him for some reason

also always has a headache

i feel like he’d also have a lot of instagram followers for some reason, like a couple thousand and he doesn’t even really post anything

the type of guy to constantly be thinking about how he could be doing better/more when his friends share good news and accomplishments with him

i feel like he’d have a pet lizard or frog yk :]

[therealqueenk]

i would actually say im "anti-intellectualism" since everyone i see being called this has reasonable points

that or youre inaccurately calling people anti-intellectual when you mean anti-elitism

i dont think knowledge should be hidden behind large walls. i dont think college/school is accessbile, not just for money but because of how it is taught/presented. im all for people learning in the way they can. im for people learning by doing and figuring out what works for them, or coming from a cultural perspective or going against the mainstream grain. when i see people calling others "anti-intellectual" they generally seem to be against those doing things in a different way. im not denigrating those who know more i just dont look up to those who look down on others for not being as smart or not doing things "the right way"

i dont care. do things however you want to do them. you dont need professional teachers to learn things and you dont need a fancy degree to do things

[the-busy-ghost]

Alright uninformed rant time. It kind of bugs me that, when studying the Middle Ages, specifically in western Europe, it doesn’t seem to be a pre-requisite that you have to take some kind of “Basics of Mediaeval Catholic Doctrine in Everyday Practise” class. 

Obviously you can’t cover everything- we don’t necessarily need to understand the ins and outs of obscure theological arguments (just as your average mediaeval churchgoer probably didn’t need to), or the inner workings of the Great Schism(s), nor how apparently simple theological disputes could be influenced by political and social factors, and of course the Official Line From The Vatican has changed over the centuries (which is why I’ve seen even modern Catholics getting mixed up about something that happened eight centuries ago). And naturally there are going to be misconceptions no matter how much you try to clarify things for people, and regional/class/temporal variations on how people’s actual everyday beliefs were influenced by the church’s rules. 

But it would help if historians studying the Middle Ages, especially western Christendom, were all given a broadly similar training in a) what the official doctrine was at various points on certain important issues and b) how this might translate to what the average layman believed. Because it feels like you’re supposed to pick that up as you go along and even where there are books on the subject they’re not always entirely reliable either (for example, people citing books about how things worked specifically in England to apply to the whole of Europe) and you can’t ask a book a question if you’re confused about any particular point. 

I mean I don’t expect to be spoonfed but somehow I don’t think that I’m supposed to accumulate a half-assed religious education from, say, a 15th century nobleman who was probably more interested in translating chivalric romances and rebelling against the Crown than religion; an angry 16th century Protestant; a 12th century nun from some forgotten valley in the Alps; some footnotes spread out over half a dozen modern political histories of Scotland; and an episode of ‘In Our Time’ from 2009. 

But equally if you’re not a specialist in church history or theology, I’m not sure that it’s necessary to probe the murky depths of every minor theological point ever, and once you’ve started where does it end? 

Anyway this entirely uninformed rant brought to you by my encounter with a sixteenth century bishop who was supposedly writing a completely orthodox book to re-evangelise his flock and tempt them away from Protestantism, but who described the baptismal rite in a way that sounds decidedly sketchy, if not heretical. And rather than being able to engage with the text properly and get what I needed from it, I was instead left sitting there like:

And frankly I didn’t have the time to go down the rabbit hole that would inevitably open up if I tried to find out

[seilon]

love when this is referred to as the gifted kid website. shockingly my mental disorders made me mentally disordered and school never really vibed with that so. couldn’t be me

[oysterie]

yayy I get to take geography next semester provided it's available

[dirtyheathencommie]

DEAR EDUCATIONALLY NEGLECTED HOMESCHOOLERS

I’ve gathered some resources and tips and tricks on self-educating after educational neglect. This is only what I did and what I know helped me. I’m about to graduate college with honors after having no education past the age of 9. I wouldn’t be here without the following. Everything is free, and at/well above the standard for education in the US.

The holy grail: Khan Academy. Nearly every course you could take is available here, in order and by grade level. Their open-source free courses rival some of the college classes I’ve taken. This is your most solid resource.

For inattentive types: Crash Course offers a variety of courses that are snappy, entertaining, and extremely rewarding. They work for my ADHD brain. They also have college prep advice, which is essential if you’re looking to go to higher education with no classroom experience.

To catch up on your reading: There are certain books that you may have read had you gone to school that you’ve missed out on. This list is the most well-rounded and can fill you in on both children’s books and classic novels that are essential or at least extremely helpful to be familiar with. You can find a majority of these easily at a local library (and some for free in PDF form online low key). There are a few higher level classics in here that I’d highly recommend. If it doesn’t work for you, I’d always recommend asking your local librarian.

*BE AWARE* The book list I recommend suggests you read Harry Potter books, and given their transphobic author you may or may not want to read them. If you choose to, I’d highly recommend buying the books secondhand or borrowing from a library to avoid financially supporting a living author with dangerous and damaging views.

TEST, TEST, TEST: Again, Khan Academy is your go-to for this. I don’t personally like standardized testing, but going through SAT and ACT courses was the best way I found to really reveal my gaps so that I could supplement.

Finally: As much as you can, enjoy the process. Education can be thrilling and teach you so much about yourself, and help shape your view of the world. It can get frustrating, but I’d like to encourage you that everyone can learn. No pace is the perfect pace, and your learning style is the right learning style for you. In teaching yourself, be patient, be kind, and indulge in the subjects you really enjoy without neglecting others. You are your teacher. Give yourself what others chose not to.

[inkskinned]

crows use tools and like to slide down snowy hills. today we saw a goose with a hurt foot who was kept safe by his flock - before taking off, they waited for him to catch up. there are colors only butterflies see. reindeer are matriarchical. cows have best friends and 4 stomachs and like jazz music. i watched a video recently of an octopus making himself a door out of a coconut shell.

i am a little soft, okay. but sometimes i can't talk either. the world is like fractal light to me, and passes through my skin in tendrils. i feel certain small things like a catapult; i skirt around the big things and somehow arrive in crisis without ever realizing i'm in pain.

in 5th grade we read The Curious Incident of the Dog In The Night-time, which is about a young autistic boy. it is how they introduced us to empathy about neurotypes, which was well-timed: around 10 years old was when i started having my life fully ruined by symptoms. people started noticing.

i wonder if birds can tell if another bird is odd. like the phrase odd duck. i have to believe that all odd ducks are still very much loved by the other normal ducks. i have to believe that, or i will cry.

i remember my 5th grade teacher holding the curious incident up, dazzled by the language written by someone who is neurotypical. my teacher said: "sometimes i want to cut open their mind to know exactly how autistics are thinking. it's just so different! they must see the world so strangely!" later, at 22, in my education classes, we were taught to say a person with autism or a person on the spectrum or neurodivergent. i actually personally kind of like person-first language - it implies the other person is trying to protect me from myself. i know they had to teach themselves that pattern of speech, is all, and it shows they're at least trying. and i was a person first, even if i wasn't good at it.

plants learn information. they must encode data somehow, but where would they store it? when you cut open a sapling, you cannot find the how they think - if they "think" at all. they learn, but do not think. i want to paint that process - i think it would be mostly purple and blue.

the book was not about me, it was about a young boy. his life was patterned into a different set of categories. he did not cry about the tag on his shirt. i remember reading it and saying to myself: i am wrong, and broken, but it isn't in this way. something else is wrong with me instead. later, in that same person-first education class, my teacher would bring up the curious incident and mention that it is now widely panned as being inaccurate and stereotypical. she frowned and said we might not know how a person with autism thinks, but it is unlikely to be expressed in that way. this book was written with the best intentions by a special-ed teacher, but there's some debate as to if somebody who was on the spectrum would be even able to write something like this.

we might not understand it, but crows and ravens have developed their own language. this is also true of whales, dolphins, and many other species. i do not know how a crow thinks, but we do know they can problem solve. (is "thinking" equal to "problem solving"? or is "thinking" data processing? data management?) i do not know how my dog thinks, either, but we "talk" all the same - i know what he is asking for, even if he only asks once.

i am not a dolphin or reindeer or a dog in the nighttime, but i am an odd duck. in the ugly duckling, she grows up and comes home and is beautiful and finds her soulmate. all that ugliness she experienced lives in downy feathers inside of her, staining everything a muted grey. she is beautiful eventually, though, so she is loved. they do not want to cut her open to see how she thinks.

a while ago i got into an argument with a classmate about that weird sia music video about autism. my classmate said she thought it was good to raise awareness. i told her they should have just hired someone else to do it. she said it's not fair to an autistic person to expect them to be able to handle that kind of a thing.

today i saw a goose, and he was limping. i want to be loved like a flock loves a wounded creature: the phrase taken under a wing. which is to say i have always known i am not normal. desperate, mewling - i want to be loved beyond words.

loved beyond thinking.

[ukiiseikou]

in my dreams, you love me back / don't wake me up, deceive me sweetly

various hsr (dan heng, aventurine, sunday, jing yuan) characters as isekai romance tropes.

dan heng in: helping that useless prince!

the exiled prince! he ends up settling in a modest (for him - raised with a silver spoon in his mouth and all) cottage. he finds usual peasant housework and chores difficult to deal with, so he employs you to help him around the house. you wake up already months into the job, and he finds it extremely weird how his usually quiet housekeeper is suddenly all chipper and nosy into his work and daily life (i mean, he employed you in the first place because he were anything but that). he doesn't find the change bothersome though, and catches himself starting to look forward to your sudden barging into his room in the middle of the day with his tea balanced precariously in your hands, bringing a new type of entertainment into his less than exciting life.

aventurine in: stopping us from going broke!

you've reincarnated into the body of the wife of the gambler noble: aventurine. originally just a side character who gets all his money taken away from him by the male lead in service of the plot, you work to stop that aaaaaall from happening - mostly to save yourself. your current life is cushy and you would love to keep it that way! along the way, you've gotten to interact more with your husband, who usually keeps out of your way and only speaks in condescending tones. eventually, you find out that nothing is as it seems, and you discover more and more of your husband's past, and you slowly find yourself finally falling in love with each other, slowly, slowly.

sunday in: wait, is this story about us?

sunday is the tragic villain of the story - obsessed with keeping the status quo, his plans keep getting thwarted by a pesky pest - YOU. after all, he is your favourite character, and you would rather not see him go down the path that leads to certain death. you keep taking random tools that will help him, and his informants keeps mysteriously disappearing under unknown circumstances. his messages sent by bird never seem to reach their destination and his henchmen are always tripping over misplaced equipment and the main leads never seem to be where he needs them to be. he eventually pins the blame on you, and turns his gaze and focus on getting you to his side before continuing on with his plans. after all, anyone who can thwart his plans and keep up with him like this deserves to be rewarded and kept by his side, not killed.

jing yuan in: saving the general

he's the general who strikes fear into his enemies. he's the teacher whose students barely make it out alive every class. he's your sleepy boss who makes you do everything. yes, the feared and mighty general in private is utterly dependent on you in his private and daily life. as an avid reader of the original novel, where jingyuan is killed so that his mentee - the protagonist, goes off on his hero's journey in revenge, you never knew that being his assistant would be such a hassle. but the protagonist is currently a child, and he runs around your feet - so much so that you are starting to question whether the him whose challenging you to a duel right now with a wooden sword when he's only half your size is the same character as the one you read on the pages of the book. either way, you should be responsible and raise him well, while also hopefully saving him from the heartache that is losing his father figure in a few years. after all, you've gotten yourself in his good graces, and you kind of have a soft spot for him as well, not that you'll ever admit it.

[suiana]

(yandere! infected harem x gn! reader) (HEAVILY inspired by LT may's book 'infected' on wattpad, go read it!!!)

This was exactly like a zombie infection. No, it was worse.

You couldn't even remember how it all started. You were just sitting in class one day, listening to your tutor yap about something boring when all of a sudden you heard people screaming.

The once peaceful world you knew was suddenly turned upside down. Everyone had changed for the worse, or better, if you see it from their perspective.

The infected, that's what people are calling them.

They're insane, crazy, obsessive. The epitome of what people once called toxic. But now, it's becoming the norm. And it's all because of that crazy scientist who developed this infection and made it an airborne virus.

You see this as something like a zombie infection. The people who're infected... they're practically... dead. Well, not really. They turn alive once they see their darlings. Right, darlings. That's what the infected are calling the uninfected.

But anyway, these infected people are practically zombies now. Like, enhanced zombies? Maybe? Their physical abilities are no joke, not to mention how much smarter they've all become. And their emotions... God, they're like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

The worst part is, the love emotion has spiralled out of control. All their passion, love, intrusive thoughts... They've lost all sense of rationality when it comes to their beloved darlings. They've become crazy in love for anyone they've had their eyes on prior to the infection. That's why the infected turn alive when they see their darlings. That's why so many people are going missing. That's why you call this a zombie infection.

Because somehow, someway, if you're uninfected and you get caught by an infected... Chances are, you're likely to turn infected as well. Apparently everyone breathed in the infection virus, some just react to it faster than others, hence the huge outbreak of infecteds. Those who didn't turn yet are apparently stronger in health or simply can't react to the infection.

And that's what brings you to your current situation. As an uninfected with their morality and common sense still in-tact.

It's crazy how the people you once called your friends are acting like monsters for their lovers now. You still can't wrap your head around that fact. But to everyone else who got infected it's nothing but a small step to get their darlings.

You can't stand it.

Why is everyone acting like this is something normal? Just a few weeks ago they'd all call this act immoral and simply insane! And now they're doing the same exact thing they vowed to never do? God you absolutely despise that scientist who created this infection.

The same can't be said for the people who are infected though, especially... your admirers.

Look! There's one right now.

"Darling! Has your infection kicked in yet?"

A cheery voice hums, a cute boy coming into view as he stares at you with the most lovesick eyes you've ever seen. Oh, right, forgot to mention but the infection takes place differently in everyone. Apparently it takes form based on your true personality, or whatever the fuck that means.

Meaning that if you were shy prior to the infection, you'd be more shy with your love. Your true personality would either turn you into a clingy wet kitten desperate for your darling's love or to a crazy homicidal maniac that goes insane if their love is not reciprocated. The infected would still be obsessive and possessive to a certain extent. But the rest of the traits are completely dependent on how you really were before getting infected.

And this guy was your friend who was super fucking clingy before the infection. Turns out he was in love with you and the infection just made things a hundred times worse.

"Um, no-"

"Why not? I can't wait for your affection!"

"Uh-"

"Pipe down shorty. You're making them uncomfortable."

Ah, how could you have forgotten that you not only had one admirer, but another one? Actually, scratch that. You had more than 2. Everyday there would be more and more people confessing their love to you, so much that you began to lose count of how many people held you in their hearts.

But there were 4 prominent people who stood out with their affections. And these 2 were it. Unfortunately.

Because even though one was more clingy and the other was more aloof, they had murdered the other admirers ruthlessly in cold blood. At least the aloof one had the decency to wash off the blood before coming to you. This clingy one came to you, all wide eyed and smiley, thinking you'd hug him when he was drenched in blood.

The fact that laws had been changed too didn't help either. People could now openly commit crimes that were once deemed illegal as long as they were proven to be done in the name of love. How cruel.

"Can you both just leave me alone?"

You grumble, glaring at your two admirers as you hide your face in your hands. You were so fucking tired of it all. Not only were you constantly on edge because you were uninfected and could be killed because you looked at someone a little too long, but you also had to deal with the weight of being so many people's obsessions.

This cursed dystopian world that changed in the blink of an eye... Ah, you had only wished you treasured the sweet days of the old world a little more.

[ravenslvt]

why does your best friend's older brother have to be so hot?? :(((

☆ suna rintarou x fem!reader (pt.1) ☆

cw: smuut! p in v, v fingering, fluffy, lowk sweet, implied virgin reader, unprotected sex.

pt. 2 pt.3 pt.4

you sigh at the empty water bottle on the nightstand. you look over at your best friend, ami. she was fast asleep. you smiled, glad you were able to visit her on your break from university. you were grateful her parents let you stay over while they were out of the country for some sort of work meeting.

back to the important matter, your thirst. you slowly get up, trying not to wake your dark haired bestfriend. grabbing the tin water bottle and tiptoeing downstairs, making sure to close the door to her bedroom quietly on the way out.

you walk through the familiar halls of the house you’ve known since you were young. all the lights were off except the kitchen light.

walking in, you notice your bestfriend’s hot ass older brother, rintarou, leaning against the kitchen island on his phone. he was wearing his usual loose sweatpants, and a tight fitting t-shirt from your old highschool. it used to be loose on him, it was clear he’s been working out more and gained more muscle. his head perks up, he pauses whatever he was watching and speaks.

“hey, didn’t think anyone was still awake.” his voice is low and a little hushed.

you don’t notice the way his eyes go to your attire, small little sleep shorts and a tank top.

you notice he’s heating something up in the microwave as you reach the fridge, unscrewing the cap to your water bottle to refill it. you watch as the bottle slowly fills, talking to him.

“ami fell asleep and i was thirsty. she always passes out so fast” you softly chuckle. she was always the first to fall asleep at sleepovers, even in your childhood. girl was a deep sleeper.

“mmm” he simply hums, returning back to looking at his phone.

you turn back to face him, taking a refreshing sip of water.

“whatcha watchin?” you lean on your elbows against the counter, peering over at him.

your relationship with suna rintarou was…. friendly to say the least. he was only a year older than you and ami, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a (fat) crush on him since middle school.

you remembered the exact moment your crush on him had started. you and ami were twelve and rintarou was thirteen. you were at the suna’s family beach house for summer break.

you and ami relaxed in the sun, reading your assigned reading books together and laughing over how dumb you guys thought the plot was.

“seriously, this guy is so lame. he just mopes around and smokes cigarettes all day. dude’s gonna have lung problems” ami rolled her eyes at a certain line of the book.

you giggled and opened your mouth to say something to agree. until a volleyball came flying at you full speed. your eyes widened and you just froze. you two were aware rintarou and some of his friends were playing a game of beach volleyball a few feet away.

you flinched and put your arms up quickly in defense, but never felt impact. you look up to see a teenage rintarou who dived to grab the ball before it hit you.

“you good?” he called your name to get your attention. you just nodded, hiding the flushed state of you face with your book. he made a comment on how he read it in english class last year and if you needed any help on the work, he had your back.

“go away, rin. she doesn’t need your c- average help” his sister retorted as he walked back to his friends. he turned his head to give a small chuckle. you never forgot his smile since then.

back in the present, he takes his eyes off his video for a moment to look back at you.

“my game replays. hey, come watch this and tell me if you think furuhashi fucked us over with this serve” he did a ‘come here’ motion. you were at his side within a moment.

you peered at the phone screen over his shoulder. his phone looked so small compared to his large hands. he replayed the video for you to watch. you focused on the teamate he pointed to and it looked like he did a purposefully bad set, aiming right at the opponents head.

“ouch. seemed like he had personal beef with number eight….” your face scrunched in the way the opponent immediently fell to the floor from such a powerful blow.

“yeah, dude let his emotions get the best of him and got the rest of us in trouble with the ref for it” he shuts his phone off, sighing.

“you have another game next week, right? ami wanted me to go check you guys out.” you grab your bottle from the counter.

taking another sip of water, a small droplet spills past your mouth, down your neck, and disapears into the curve of your breasts. you notice the way his eyes follow the bead of water.

his eyes meet yours. and before he can open his mouth, the microwave beeps loudly. he quickly gets up to take the food out with a quick curse, hoping the obnoxious beeping didn’t wake anyone up.

he takes the steaming plate out of the appliance. you notice he heated up some cold pizza you guys ordered earlier in the night.

your eyes go back to his broad shoulders and arms, down to his large veiny hands. he’d matured a lot more since you’d seen him last.

you caught yourself staring, starting to feel a little awkward. you suddenly start to get a little hot, despite what little clothes you wore. you step away to leave the kitchen. your thoughts ran rampet of his hands. you pictured them touching your hair, your arms, your-

“where are you going?” his eyes are only on you now, his arms leaning against the counter to look at you.

“i- um should probably get back to ami” you gulp.

“why? isn’t she asleep? come hangout with your real favorite suna” he smirks, taking a peice of the hot pizza into his mouth.

you roll your eyes and fake scoff.

“don’t let your sister hear you say that, she might believe it” you cross your arms, eyeing him.

he swallowed, wiping his mouth with a napkin and smiling.

“i mean, it’s the truth. isn’t it?” god he was so cocky today. but you loved it.

“and what makes you think that, rin?” you played along. you step a little closer, this time you lean your elbows on the counter facing him. accidentally giving him a front row view of your cleavage through your thin top.

you see the way his eyes drop to your tits. oh you had him.

“cause, you think i’m cuter” his eyes flicker back to your own. he shrugs casually, a smug smirk on his face. his food now forgotten in his mind. only thing he wanted now was you.

“sure, whatever you want to think.” you sarcastically remark back.

he laughs, circling the kitchen island so now you had nothing between you except about a foot of space.

“oh i don’t have to think it, pretty. i know it” shit, he was getting closer and your heart was only beating faster.

“you’re delusional, rintarou.” you aren’t laughing anymore, smile fading to a more serious demeanor. you were nervous and he could tell.

he smiles, running a calloused finger down your arm. it left a trail of fire down your skin and your breath hitched.

“is that why you’re always staring at me. you think i don’t notice?” his voice is lower now, quieter.

fuck. he knew.

“as if you don’t oogle at me whenever i’m in a swimsuit.” you refuse to look away from his gaze.

he lets out a small chuckle. it was hypnotizing.

“i ‘oogle’ you no matter what you wear” he admits, almost proudly.

you eyes widen for a moment. you try your best to hold it together. his hand played with the ends of your hair. you two had never stood this close before.

you felt the flimsy fabric of your panties start to dampen.

“what’s got you all quiet?” his hand moves from your soft locks to hold your chin, forcing you to look right at him.

“screw you, rin” you retort, flustered. he snorts.

“you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” his face only got closer to yours.

you guys were so close, you had forgotten you weren’t the only two in the house.

“in your dreams-“ you start.

“knock that shit off. admit you want this as bad as i do” he says your name. your faces were now inches apart. his eyebrows furrowed and he just looked so attractive. he was studying your expressions, his eyes never leaving your face.

“rin i-“ you start again. this time his lips hover over yours, ghosting over your own.

“tell me to stop and i’ll go back up to my room and we will never speak of this again.” his hand moves to cup your cheek, his forhead resting on your, giving you a chance to pull away.

but you didn’t want to pull away and he didn’t either.

finally, after what seemed like years of tension, you snapped. going up on your tipy toes to crash your lips on his.

his hands immediately draw to your waist, holding you as close as possible while your hands wrap in his soft dark brown locks.

years of unresolved feelings and tension all poured into one heated kiss.

his hands gripping your waist moves down to your hips, he turns you so your rear is against the counter. how convinient his hips are the perfect height for the kitchen island.

you let out a soft gasp as he bites your bottom lip, he smirks and gently prods his tounge into your mouth, seeking permission first. you lean your head back to let him kiss you deeper.

he was fully addicted to your lips.

he pats your hip and you take it as a sign to hop on the marble counter, he helps you jump up. he slots himself inbetween your thighs, your lips never pulling apart.

“fuck. i can’t believe i haven’t tasted you sooner” he says in between kisses. you giggle at the way he refuses to pull apart from you.

he just grips your waist tighter, his cold hands slipping under the fabric of your tank top. you gasp as he reaches for your bare tits, lifting the fabric to rest above your breasts. you never wore a bra around him. and of course he always noticed.

he gave your perky tits a firm squeeze, you mewl into his mouth as he gently pinches your hardened nipples. his cold fingers adding an extra chill.

rintarou’s hips press gently into yours. you could feel his erection through his pants. you grip his hair tighter at the feeling of his clothed member rubbing against your clothed clit.

you unlatch a hand from his hair and bring it straight to his hardness. he hisses as you rub him through the pants. he could feel a small wet patch forming in his boxers.

“shit, take these off” he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of your sleep shorts, you lift you hips for him to shimmy them down your legs, you didn’t even notice where he put them. you didn’t really care.

you were left in your little lace panties. he gave a lopsided smile at how prepared you were. it was like you knew he was gonna fuck you tonight. or maybe you wore these all the time around him, just waiting.

“this wet already?” he sucks in a breath, running a finger over the growing wet patch on your panties. you just nod and focus your gaze on his long fingers. you wanted them so bad.

“rin, please” you grab at his hand that was teasingly brushing over your clothed clit.

“stop teasing” you pout at him. he looks up at you and gives you another kiss.

“you’re too cute not to tease.” he pulls away and pulls your underwear to the side, spreading your legs more. he curses at the sight of your glistening pussy, knowing it was all for him.

he runs a long finger down your folds, causing your grip on his wrist to tighten.

“so worked up, aren’t you? no one ever touch you like this before?” he asks, continuing his motions up and down.

“n-no rin, just you.” you breathily admit, a bit emberassed. it was the truth though, he was the only one you really wanted over the years.

he lets out another curse at the thought of being the first guy to touch you in this way. he was straining against his boxers, his loose sweatpants suddenly feeling so tight on his hips.

“tell me if it hurts and i’ll stop, okay?” he looks you in the eye, serious. you just nod.

“wanna hear you say it, baby” he pulls his hand away from your cunt.

“yes rin, i swear” you assure, shimmying to the edge of the counter to be closer to him.

he smiles, giving you a peck on the forehead before prodding his middle finger into your tight hole, spreading your wetness to make sure you were ready.

he slowly enters you and you grip onto his shoulders for dear life. he gives a few slow experimental pumps of his finger before you were asking for more.

“this ok?” he whispers in you ear, kissing your neck.

“god yes. more please” you plead in a quiet tone, trying your best to keep silent.

he chuckles and adds his ring finger. just two was enough to stretch you out. it was a delicious pain of his large digits splitting you open. you couldn’t even imagine how good his cock would feel.

you bite your knuckles to muffle the sounds of pleasure you were making. but nothing could cover the wet noises coming from him finger fucking your pussy.

his wrist started to ache, but it was worth it to see the way you were taking it so well. he curled his fingers, doing a ‘come here’ motion inside of you. you let out a muffled curse as your legs started to shake.

he kept pumping and curling his fingers over and over. his long thick fingers reached places your little hands just couldn’t.

“i think i’m-“ you cut yourself off with a soft moan, still trying to be quiet.

he just kisses you through your orgasm, groaning into your own mouth. your pussy squeezes around his fingers and he swallows up all your noises. he imagines how you’d feel squeezing his cock like this, while his other hand groping your tit, pinching your nipple. you arch into him and pull away from his lips to breathe.

you pant and look at him, face completley flushed, he slowly removes his fingers. his hand was coated in your cum. he gives your chest a few small kisses, accidentally leaving faint marks on the skin. not an accident at all.

he was panting too. you looked at him, curiously. your eyes go down to his pants. there was an obvious wet stain in the front.

“did you….” your eyes go wide as he flushes with emberassment.

“m’sorry you were just so fucking hot i couldn’t-“ he starts, but you cut him off with your lips. you were immediately aroused again, but this time the only thing that could satisfy you was his cock.

you paw at his sweats, shaky fingers clumsily trying to untie the drawstring. he grips the back of your neck with one hand while the other helps take off his pants. he starts to stroke himself until he’s hard again, still recovering from blowing his load in his pants.

you swat his hand and give his cock long strokes. you finally get a good view of it. he wasn’t small by any means, but not obnoxiously large. it was a delicious size that made your mouth go dry. there was a certain blue vein that ran down from his tip, your finger running over it, making him hiss.

he noticed you staring and encourages you to continue, his thumbs rubbing your thighs in comfort.

you swipe your thumb over his slit making him shiver like a small dog. his tip was so sensitive. you move to try and hop off the counter to get on your knees, but he stopped you, gripping your hips.

“if you do that i won’t be able to last.” he pets your hip sensually. you pout.

“don’t give me that look. next time, i promise” he pecks your lips and your heart flutters. so there will be a next time.

his head rests on your shoulder as you continue to stroke up, switching from pumping it to teasing his tip. he stopped you once his hips started to sputter. he was like putty in your hands at this point.

“p-please” he says your name, panting.

“i need to be inside you. i need to feel you so bad, baby please” he begs, kissing your neck, leaving darker marks in his wake.

you whine at his words, using your legs to wrap around his hips, his cock sitting right above your needy cunt.

“fuck me already, rin” you give his cock a few more pumps before lining him up with your wanting hole.

he does as yous say, slowly pushing in, his mouth gaping wide and his head falls back once he’s fully inside of you.

now your head rests on his chest as you encourage him to move. he slowly pulls out then back in with a powerful thrust. you bite his shoulder to keep from screaming out. surley leaving a mark.

“ohmygod rin” you can’t help but chant out his name as his thrusts quicken. you were praying ami was still asleep or she would totally hear the sounds of his hips slapping into yours.

“shh. gotta be quiet, kay? don’t want your friend to hear you getting fucked by her big brother do you?” he clasped a hand over your mouth, you unconsciously squeezed him tighter. your eyes screwed shut tight.

“fuck. you’d probably like that wouldn’t you? want everyone to see how badly you want my dick?” he groans in a hushed tone, his thrusts getting deeper and deeper. he was loosing control.

he gripped onto your hips to stabilize his pace. you guys never broke eye contact as your mouth hung open silently, trying so hard to keep quiet. he smiles at how fucked out you already looked.

“rinnn” you whine.

“m’right here, pretty” he kisses you once again. one of your hands takes purchase in his (now) messy hair, the other one gripping onto his strong arm. you were sure you were clawing into him with your nails, but he didn’t seem to mind.

you were getting close already. he moaned into your mouth as you tightened around his cock. he fed you simple praises from his pretty mouth, encouraging you to cum.

your thighs tightened around his hips, wanting him to be even closer, if that was even possible.

“i got you, baby. let go” he whispers inbetween kisses.

he bites your lip as you cum on his cock, squeezing him in every possible way. you whine into his mouth, the kiss now turned so messy a bit of drool fell from your mouth.

he fucked you through your orgasm as you shake in his hold, he was holding back his own until you were satisfied. you started to mewl from the overstimulation of his veiny cock pounding into you.

he pulls out, pumping himself until he finishes on your thigh, letting out a hushed moan of your name from his lips, making you squeeze around nothing. both of you breathing heavily.

after you both cool down from your highs, he looks at you, full of admiration.

“you did amazing” he kisses your cheek.

once your mind fog clears, the realization hits you. you just fucked your childhood crush, your bestfriends brother. a part of you feels a little guilty, but the other part of you wants nothing more than to do it again.

he notices your hesitation, placing a gentle hand on your hair so soothe it down.

“hey, you okay?” he asks. you didn’t even notice when he had pulled his pants back up, or when he put your top back in place over your tits.

you give him a soft smile.

“i’m okay” you assure him.

“good” he smiles back, he grabs a nearby kitchen cloth and wipes off his spend from your thigh.

“gross, rin. people use that towel” you scold.

he just shrugs “i’ll throw it in the wash”

you both knew in your heads you couldn’t tell anyone about this.

it was your little secret.

suddenly, rintarou’s phone lights up from across the counter. he puts your panties back in place, grabbing your sleep shorts and putting your legs through them so you could put them back on. he snatches his phone for you both to see.

‘WEATHER WARNING: all schools in the area shut down for another two weeks’ the notification read.

your eyes widen. looks like you’d be staying at the suna’s house for a lot longer than you thought.

the next morning

“ouch, looks like your girl maimed you” ami laughs over her waffles. you sit next to her, pouring the syrup over your own. rin almost chokes on his food and your head snaps up.

“what?” he says with a mouthful of bacon. ami points to the scratches on his arm and the literal bite mark on his shoulder. your eyes go wide. you made sure to wear a hoodie to cover your own marks.

“aww rin hooked up with a wolf!” you add, trying not to raise suspicion. he squints his eyes at you, swallowing his food.

at least he had the decency to wipe down the counter before we ate.

“something like that” you eye eachother before turning back to your breakfast.

this was gonna be a long stay.

masterlist

a/n: i kinda wanna make this a mini series lollll lmk of you’d like a pt.2 (this is highkey ooc but idc!!! its fanfiction!!!! i love my fake man fr)

[rebeccathenaturalist]

ETA: I wrote up a guide on clues that a foraging book was written by AI here!

[Original Tweet source here.]

[RANT AHEAD]

Okay, yeah. This is a very, very, very bad idea. I understand that there is a certain flavor of techbro who has ABSOLUTELY zero problem with this because "AI is the future, bro", and we're supposed to be reading their articles on how to use AI for side hustles and all that.

I get that ID apps have played into people's tendency to want quick and easy answers to everything (I'm not totally opposed to apps, but please read about how an app does not a Master Naturalist make.) But nature identification is serious stuff, ESPECIALLY when you are trying to identify whether something is safe to eat, handle, etc. You have to be absolutely, completely, 100000% sure of your ID, and then you ALSO have to absolutely verify that it is safely handled and consumed by humans.

As a foraging instructor, I cannot emphasize this enough. My classes, which are intended for a general audience, are very heavy on identification skills for this very reason. I have had (a small subsection of) students complain that I wasn't just spending 2-3 hours listing off bunches of edible plants and fungi, and honestly? They can complain all they want. I am doing MY due diligence to make very sure that the people who take my classes are prepared to go out and start identifying species and then figure out their edibility or lack thereof.

Because it isn't enough to be able to say "Oh, that's a dandelion, and I think this might be an oyster mushroom." It's also not enough to say "Well, such-and-such app says this is Queen Anne's lace and not poison hemlock." You HAVE to have incredibly keen observational skills. You HAVE to be patient enough to take thorough observations and run them through multiple forms of verification (field guides, websites, apps, other foragers/naturalists) to make sure you have a rock-solid identification. And then you ALSO have to be willing to read through multiple sources (NOT just Wikipedia) to determine whether that species is safely consumed by humans, and if so if it needs to be prepared in a particular way or if there are inedible/toxic parts that need to be removed.

AND--this phenomenon of AI-generated crapola emphasizes the fact that in addition to all of the above, you HAVE to have critical thinking skills when it comes to assessing your sources. Just because something is printed on a page doesn't mean it's true. You need to look at the quality of the information being presented. You need to look at the author's sources. You need to compare what this person is saying to other books and resources out there, and make sure there's a consensus.

You also need to look at the author themselves and make absolutely sure they are a real person. Find their website. Find their bio. Find their social media. Find any other manners in which they interact with the world, ESPECIALLY outside of the internet. Contact them. Ask questions. Don't be a jerk about it, because we're just people, but do at least make sure that a book you're interested in buying is by a real person. I guarantee you those of us who are serious about teaching this stuff and who are internet-savvy are going to make it very easy to find who we are (within reason), what we're doing, and why.

Because the OP in that Tweet is absolutely right--people are going to get seriously ill or dead if they try using AI-generated field guides. We have such a wealth of information, both on paper/pixels and in the brains of active, experienced foragers, that we can easily learn from the mistakes of people in the past who got poisoned, and avoid their fate. But it does mean that you MUST have the will and ability to be impeccably thorough in your research--and when in doubt, throw it out.

My inbox is always open. I'm easier caught via email than here, but I will answer. You can always ask me stuff about foraging, about nature identification, etc. And if there's a foraging instructor/author/etc. with a website, chances are they're also going to be more than willing to answer questions. I am happy to direct you to online groups on Facebook and elsewhere where you have a whole slew of people to compare notes with. I want people's foraging to be SAFE and FUN. And AI-generated books aren't the way to make that happen.

[asumofwords]

Midpoint - Michael Gavey x Reader

Synopsis: The semester break came along quicker than you thought it would, and you decided to stay on campus for the break to get ahead in your studies. What will happen when you go head-to-head with a certain ill-tempered maths student in a war of pettiness?

Warnings: This fic is 18+, readers discretion is advised. Arguing, pettiness, name calling, low blows, tension, degradation, ripped stockings, finger fucking, rough fucking, fucking in public, p in v, creampie, cum eating.

Word Count: 8.7k

Notes: Hello my angels, Happy New Year, heres to all the filth that will continue to come from the cesspool that is my mind. Thank you all for your patience, I have been so excited to write for Michael, and so I hope you enjoy this as much as I have writing it !! heheh ;) <3

Part 2

There was a soft amber glow that cast over the library, the dark wood warming with the golden light that peaked through the windows, patches of wooden floors illuminated in some spots with coloured lights from stained glass windows.

For the most part, the library was empty bar three other students who had stayed behind for the break, getting ahead on their work for the next semester.

You were one of them, and with the sheer size of the library, you wouldn’t have known there were others inside if you had not seen them when walking down the endless isles of books in search for the ‘British Working Class Movements’ for your history course. 

It didn’t take long for you to find it, and by the time you settled into a secluded corner down the back, the sun had already begun to set. You flicked on one of the green and gold table lamps and began to read, periodically taking notes on a page as you went.

It wasn’t that you needed to study ahead, it simply gave you something to do whilst the break droned on, few students having stayed behind making it lonely, but a bit more bearable than making the long trip home.

You loved the library, the stained wood, smell of old books lining the walls, and the quiet of the place was a nice haven to get away from the usual hustle and bustle of college. Everyone always seemed to be in a rush to either their next class or their next party, and although you weren’t a loner per se, you didn’t always feel like being in the constant lights and sounds that came with socialising. And so the library was the one place, besides your dorm, where you could have a nice piece of solitude.

Settling over the page, you gained a steady rhythm. Read about one movement, then write anecdotes as you went, taking the time to pause, re-read, and really absorb the information as much as you could. It was fascinating, and you enjoyed learning as much as you did.

By the third hour of continuous reading and note taking, your hand began to cramp, and so you decided it was time for a short break. You stood up from the desk, stretching your arms above your head, a small sigh escaping your lips as your back cracked and muscles pulled. You twisted your upper body to each side, softly grunting as you felt your back click again and again, sighing loudly as a particular pop took away an ache that had settled between your shoulders. You continued on with your languid stretches, trying to get some of the stiffness out of your body from being hunched over the desk for so long. 

You wondered how much more time you should spend writing notes, or whether you could go back to your dorm and laze about on the bed. Luckily for you, you didn’t have a roommate, and were able to make the space feel much like your own. You didn’t have too much furniture, the room not allowing for it, just your essentials and a few trinkets here and there that you had collected. Your real pride and joy however, was a Peace Lily that you had saved from sure death. Now, it sat proudly on your study desk, growing dark green leaves and flowering its soft white flowers.

The idea of going back to your dorm seemed tempting, after all, you didn’t really have to be studying, and you had just recently bought the new Harry Potter book and wished to read some more of it, make a nice cup of tea, sink into your sheets and get lost into a fantasy world.

A soft jangling came from between one of the large book shelves, and soon a man peeked through. His icy blue eyes caught yours and you watched as he assessed you from where he stood, albeit awkwardly, gaze dragging up and down your body.

He was tall and lean, with sandy blonde hair that sat messily atop his head. He had a sharp aquiline nose, and lips that pulled up naturally in its corners.

You recognised him from somewhere, but where you couldn't be sure.

Perhaps he was in the same classes as you?

He continued to stare at you, shirt tucked into his pants, small carabiner attached with a USB dangling from a belt loop, his tongue pushed into his cheek.

“You right?” You asked, shifting on your feet, wondering if he needed something from you.

His lips pursed as he looked at you from down his nose, “Are you?”

You furrowed your brows, “Huh?” 

“You've been moaning in the back of the library like a tart.” 

You bristled, “I beg your pardon?”

Who the fuck-

“Some of us are trying to study.” His arms were stiff by his sides, and before you had the chance to reply, he spun on his heel, shoes squeaking loudly in the aisles as he marched away.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, feeling angry and also slightly embarrassed about the encounter.

Had you been making a lot of noise? 

You didn’t think so, especially since the library was essentially empty anyway. You had even chosen the furthest corner of the floor as well, tucked away behind rows of books and out of sight. 

You sat back down at the desk and tried to continue writing notes, but instead, you found yourself feeling far too self conscious, and wondered if you were even breathing too loudly. But before you got too self critical, you remembered that the library was practically empty, and you had specifically chosen a spot the furthest away from the other three students.

If your stretching and little sighs had disturbed him, he was either hanging around your area, or had the hearing of a bat. 

So after about an hours more of study attempts and a half a page more of notes, you decided to call it a night, packing away your belongings before taking the book with you, not bothering to check it out. 

As soon as you got back to your dorm, you headed straight to bed, not feeling in the mood to make a cup of tea or even open your new book, no longer looking forward to enjoying yourself and settling in. Instead you laid on your back staring at the ceiling, stewing about how the man in the library had spoken to you, and vowing that if you saw him again, you'd give him a piece of your mind. 

And by your luck, you did see him again. 

The very next day.

You got to the library around midday, deciding that you weren’t going to do a late night of studying, deciding to have a relaxing night in to pamper yourself, maybe even watch a movie in the common rooms if the tv free, or do as you had intended the night before; a cup of tea and your book, and maybe even some ‘me’ time.

The library, despite all its windows and the suns rays peeping through, was cold, and as soon as you stepped foot into it a chill ran over you. You walked through the endless rows of books, not seeing a soul as you climbed the stairs to the second floor, dust settled into the crooks and corners of the staircases and bannisters, the smell almost overwhelming, until finally, you saw him. 

He was sat in the centre of the room at one of the large study desks, multiple books opened around him as he furiously wrote down notes and equations. His head didn’t lift at the sound of your footsteps, too busy in his own little world studying for God knows what, so much so, that it was a wonder that you had even managed to disturb him the day prior, which now only seemed to fuel your anger.

You were never one to back down.

You walked straight to him, toes almost kicking the leg of the table as you looked down at his neat writing, his hand flying across the page in rapid succession, no calculator in sight despite the lengthiness of the equations.

It was impressive, you noted begrudgingly, the way he worked so swiftly, and just was you were about to gain his attention, he spoke to you, hand not once slowing as he worked. 

“What do you want?” 

It wasn’t rude, just as it wasn’t polite. If anything, it was abrasive, like the rough cobblestones outside, and not once did he look up at you.

It caught you off guard.

Your mouth opened and shut as you tried to think of something to say.

Was it really worth being hot headed and saying something the day after?

Would he even remember?

Or would you be embarrassing yourself further?

Ultimately you gave up, deciding that there was no point to saying anything anymore, sighing in resignation as you walked around the length of the table continuing to yours. 

You got about three steps away before he spoke again.

“Remember that you’re in the library this time.”

You spun, staring daggers into the back of his head, hand gripping the strap of your bag, “What the fuck is your problem?” Your chest heaved in anger, waiting for him to turn around or answer you, but he didn’t.

The sandy haired man continued his endless equations, leaving you standing behind him as though you had spoken to a ghost. It was maddening, the rush of your blood loud in your ears drowning out the steady scratch of his pencil.

How dare he?

He was just like all the others, like every other man on campus who felt they could speak however they like at any woman as though you were beneath them. 

You stood there for what felt like minutes, but was mere seconds.

Realising that you weren’t to get an answer from him, you continued on your way to your secluded little table, stomping through the aisles, your footsteps echoing loudly in the space on the wooden floor.

When you got to the table, you all but threw your bag down, the heavy textbook slamming onto the wooden surface, making a large bang.

Never in your life had you been so agitated, ripping the chair away from the desk, letting the legs scrape on the mahogany floor. 

One after the other, you yanked your books out of your bag, your notebook and pens, throwing them onto the table without a care. You could feel the heat of your anger creeping up your neck and into your face, and despite your attempts to calm yourself by studying, you ended up just re-reading the same paragraph over and over again, not once absorbing it. 

By the time you decided to give up, the sun had begun to set, and so you hastily scrambled to shove your things back into your bag, not even bothering to tuck your chair in softly, throwing it against the desk and storming out the way you came.

He was still in his regular spot when you stalked past him, his head turned down as he read through his notes, multiple empty chocolate wrappersw spread across the table. 

“Fucking asshole.” You muttered as you walked past him, not bothering to spare him a second glance as you huffed and stormed away, hoping to find some peace in your dorm. 

When you got to your dorm, you were so hungry that you began to feel sick. Realising that in your anger you had forgotten to eat, you wandered down to the pub not far from campus and got a cheap little meal, eating quietly in the corner, a telly playing a soccer game on the screen in the back. 

There weren't many patrons that night, but you could hear the pool table being used in the distance, the loud clacking of the balls being sunk, drowning out the soft sound of the telly. The pub stunk of stale beer and cigarettes, ring stains on all the wooden surfaces from sweating glasses.

It was still early when you finished, and so you made the decision to check out the commons and see if a tv was free.

The night air was cold as you walked back to your dorm, your teeth chattering in your skull as you sped walked, wrapping your arms around yourself to get back into the warmth of the old building. Lights illuminated the old stone walls in a yellow light, casting shadows on the cobblestones and bare trees around you.

It would have been spooky if you weren’t used to it by now, and could understand how first years would become spooked at night alone, walking through the courtyards.

As you made your way towards the common room in your building, you couldn’t help but think about the man in the library. His sandy hair, blue eyes, sharp features and sharper mouth. Who needed a heater when you had this man to fire you up? You could almost hear his grating tone as he mocked you, his glasses shining in the library as he looked down his nose at you.

He made you feel small, unwanted. But you had worked hard to get into Oxford, and you, whether he liked it or not, had earned your place. 

It wasn’t unlike the men you already knew in STEM to be somewhat assholes, especially towards women or any degrees they deemed ‘unfit’ or ‘unworthy’. You had heard many scoffs and sneers at the Arts students, or English Literature kids, especially if it was women, from the STEM boys who seemed to hoard together like a bunch of flies. Or better yet, like a Rat King, unable to break the connection between each other despite how much they fought it.

It was, to follow the pun, a rat race.

The hall was dark as you walked to the commons, but from the window of the door, you saw the tale tell sign of the telly being on. You wondered momentarily if it was anyone you knew that had stayed back, perhaps one of the girls.

Maybe you could settle down with them and watch whatever mind melting soap opera was on, and lull yourself into a stupor. 

The prospect of talking to someone almost dissolved your sour mood, and by the time you opened the door, peering into the flickering light illuminated room, a small smile had begun to pull at your lips.

But that smile was short lived as your eyes met a pair of pale blue ones.

You watched as his lips pulled down in recognition of you, his head turning to look back at the telly. Your heart began to race in your chest again, the door clicking shut behind you, the soft sound of Doctor Who’s theme song filling the room, the screen reflecting off of his rectangular lenses. 

It didn’t help that the small drinks you had at the pub seemed to ignite your previous disdain for the man, as well as dampening your, for a lack of a better word, cognition.

In that moment, you were at a loss of what to do. You wanted to watch tv, but the idea of being anywhere near him infuriated you. Yet, at the same time, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction by leaving, indicating to him that you had given up, and that he had won.

“You going to stand there all night?” He teased cruelly, eyes not once turning back to you, locked on David Tenant as he ran through an abandoned warehouse.

You bristled, teeth grinding down against each other as you stormed past him, “Fuck you.” You dropped down onto the cushion on the other end of the couch. 

From the corner of your eye, you could see his lips purse slightly, obviously hearing you.

No matter how much you tried, you could not get comfortable on the couch, and it wasn’t because the couch had a natural groove from the many people who sat in it, or the obvious stains on the covers and arms, some recognisable, others dubious, nor the permeating cigarette smell that emanated from deep within the foam, but rather because he sat all too comfortable beside you, watching a show you wished you could watch alone.

You shifted against the arm again for the umpteenth, huffing softly in the room. Your ass had fallen asleep because you sat ramrod straight and refused to relax, tucking your legs beneath you not leaning back. No matter what you did, you could not settle, body gearing up for a fight.

When you shifted again, it seemed to pull his attention away from David Tenants doctor.

“You gonna keep huffing in the corner like a baby?”

Your already fragile thread of patience snapped.

“What the fuck is your problem? Have I done something to you? I don’t even know who you are.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him. The man sneered, leaning towards you on the couch, “My problem is vapid little cunts like you. Getting by on mummy and daddy’s money whilst the rest of us have to work to stay here. You just party and fuck each other like rats.” His cold eyes razed up and down your body, watching as your face morphed from anger to offence, and then, to rage.

You shot up from your seat, moving to stand over him as he looked up at you, face barely containing his hatred. 

“I don’t have ‘mummy’s and daddy’s money’, I’m here because I worked hard to be here.” You hissed, hands clenched into fists at your sides, “You know nothing about me.” 

“I know you’re friends with Felix Catton and every other vapid, useless cunt that hangs off of his every breath.” His voice lowered, hatred simmering behind his light illuminated glasses.

Your brows furrowed, “Felix and I have a class together. Assigned seating. We walk there together. If-” You straightened, looking down at him before it hit you.

A laugh of disbelief flew from your lips, and soon enough the cocksure anger melted away from his sharp features, replaced by confusion.

“Wow.” You huffed, a bitter laugh filling the air, “You’re jealous.” His eyes narrowed on you, “You’re jealous of Felix.” You watched as his mouth snapped open, “Maybe if you weren’t so-“

“-I’m not fucking jealous of those nobodies.”

Snorting, you shook your head, “Nobodies… Yet people know their name. I don’t even know who you are.”

You waited for him to give you his name, to finally tell you who this infuriating man was, the credits of Doctor Who playing in the background as you stared at each other. Your chest heaved, but all you felt looking down at him was irritation.

“Your anger is misdirected." You growled, "I thought you would be smarter than that.”

The man's jaw ticked, “I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

“I don’t.”

You turned away, suddenly drained from the whole interaction. You didn’t bother to turn back and look at him, or even say another word. You wanted to go to bed, no, needed to go to bed and get away from the man on the couch before you tore your hair out.

As you opened the common room door, his voice called out to you.

“Y/n L/n.” 

The way he said your name sent goosebumps rising on your skin, each syllable pronounced slowly, as though he was savouring your name on the tip of his tongue. Your hand paused on the door as you pushed it open, looking back at him. 

“And who are you?”

Before he could answer, you left, slamming the door shut behind you. You marched straight back to your room, hands in such tight fists that your nails left half crescent moons in the flesh of your palms.

You lay awake most of the evening staring at the ceiling with the interaction on your mind.

He knew you by name, even thought you were friends with Felix, and whilst you weren’t not friendly with him, you wouldn’t say you were closely acquainted. You drank at the same parties sometimes or saw him down at the pub, but the only one-on-one time you had with him was in class. 

Whoever this man was, and whoever he thought you were, he was wrong. And now he was going to regret it.

You knew he would be there, in fact you betted on it, getting up extra early to go to the library to do the one thing you planned on doing that day.

Piss him off.

If there was one thing that men hate the most in the world, it was not being in control, and that was doubled if it was with a woman.

You sat at the table he always did, spreading your textbooks and papers, pens, notes, snacks, water bottle, and even IPod Nano on its surface. You had brought extra things with you today in your bag to spread across the table, some things not even needed to study, but used to take up more space and soil his little territory.

The sun had barely even risen by the time you laid it all out, but you knew it would all be worth it.

And it was, because not even fifteen minutes later, he arrived to the sight of you at his desk, humming as you looked at your notes.

His feet stopped not too far from your (his) table, watching as you met his gaze, devoid of emotion. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling, watching as he clenched his teeth in irritation.

He was almost shaking with anger.

Got you.

You kept the image of innocence, looking back down at your notes as you tapped your pen against the tables surface loudly. You could see his fists clenching in your periphery at his side, his pale green button up shirt with long beige pants shifting side to side as he stood angrily watching you.

“What are you doing?” The blonde’s voice cut through the quiet of the library, irritation evident in his tone.

You didn’t bother to look up, pen still clicking rhythmically against the table, “Hm?”

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

Placing the pen on your page delicately, you looked up, “Pardon?”

The mans cheeks flushed an angry red as he stared down at you, lips pulling into a tight line, “Whatever you think-“

“-I’m sorry,” You interrupted him, leaning forward to look up into his eyes sweetly, “Do I know you?”

The man leant forward and sneered, “Gavey.”

“Gavey?” You titled your head, biting your lip softly in thought.

Why did that name sound so familiar?

“Yes.” He grit through his teeth, looking down at your spread notes and gear.

Then it came to you.

“Gavey! Michael Gavey!” You beamed up at him, leaning slightly forward on the desk.

Now you knew why he was so familiar.

“You’re the maths genius.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Anyone who had heard about Michael Gavey knew about his stellar intellect when it came to maths, and unfortunately for him, they also knew about his little antisocial outbursts, “You yelled at Oliver on O week.”

You watched with delight as the anger fell momentarily from his face, and embarrassment replaced it. You leant further forward, putting both elbows on the table as you rested your chin on your hands, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Is it true then? You can do any sum just in your head?”

If it was true, he needed to be studied by a team of scientists.

And maybe a behavioural therapist.

Michael stood taller, proud to have been recognised for this part of him as he watched you bat your eyelashes at him. His shoulders rolled back, eyes glimmering with determination behind his glasses.

Men were so easy.

You just stroke their ego a little and their guard comes down immediately.

“Ask me.” His voice was soft, confident, waiting on bated breath to show off his born skill.

You smiled, “Alright. Seven-hundred-and-eighty-nine multiplied by six-hundred-and-fifty-four.”

Without missing a beat, “Five-hundred-and-sixteen-thousand-and-six.”

“Divided by twelve.”

“Forty-three-thousand point five.”

“Times nine.”

“Three-hundred-and-eighty-seven-thousand-and-four point five.”

You leant back in your chair watching him. It was impressive, and if he wasn’t such a prick, you would have openly praised him. But you didn’t have it in you in that moment to give him anything but a lengthy stare, using the time to get a good look at his face without the sneer.

He was handsome, a long face framed nicely by his ‘devil may care’ hair. You wondered if he even bothered to brush it in the morning. The longer you looked at him the more you could see how his sharp features and soft lips would in fact get him the attention he so desperately craved, if only he wasn’t as insufferable as he was. In fact, the more you thought about it, if things had been different, perhaps you would have pursued him, maybe even asked him out for a drink.

Instead, he had made an enemy for himself, and being petty at this point was a hobby for you that you took great time and pleasure in doing, especially if it was for assholes who made the first move unwarranted. 

“Hm.” You tapped your pen against the table, “How do I know it’s correct and you're not just making it up?”

This seemed to anger Gavey.

“I’m not making it up. I do the sums,” He narrowed his eyes, “In my head.”

“I don’t have a calculator to confirm this. For all I know, you could be lying.”

The anger was back, “I’m not lying. I’m never wrong.”

“Sure.”

“I’m a genius.”

“Uh huh.”

Then came the vitriol, his shoulders tensed in rage, “What would you know anything about maths? You’re a History and Philosophy major.” Michael scoffed, seeming to think that his disdain for your degree would upset you in the slightest.

You sighed loudly, pulling the earphones from your Ipod to begin putting them in your ears. You looked at him pointedly, putting a sad little smile onto your lips. 

Show time.

“It’s a shame, you know.” You said sadly.

“What?” Michael responded, over-eagerly.

The earphones sat in your ears and you scrolled down to a song you wanted, letting the music begin to play loudly just to piss him off, the noise turned up high enough for him to hear the lyrics. You didn't show it, but it was too loud, and most certainly hurt your ears, yet it was worth it to see his nose scrunch up.

“That you’re a snob.” Your voice rose over the music in your ears, unable to hear anything but the loud bass line that bounced in your head, “You’re actually cute when you’re not sneering at me.” You let your eyes drop back to your page, ignoring his presence as you strummed the pen loudly against the wood of the desk, unable to hear if he responded, but also not bothered to hear him. You had ended the conversation just the way you wanted.

And it would drive him nuts.

What you hadn’t seen was his mouth opening and shutting multiple times as a blush spread across his cheeks. He stood idly by, utterly unable to produce a single word or sound bar clearing his throat. Michael disappeared from your periphery as he left to sit at the table at the end, dropping into his seat to begin his studies.

But it proved to be fruitless, because as he attempted to settle into the endless stream of equations, all he could hear behind him was the tinny sound of your music blasting from your earphones and the steady grating tap of your pen.

He tried, in vein, for over an hour to focus, before giving up and storming out of the library. It was only then when you lifted your head, smiling at his retreating figure in triumph. 

I win.

Not a word had been written on your page, and not a thing had been absorbed in your head. You lowered the volume of your music, a ringing settling into your ears, before packing up your things to go back to your dorm, deciding that a job well done was deserving of some respite, and in your good mood you would actually read your book.

You spent the rest of your day and better part of your evening reading, lounging, and snacking on some chips as you snuggled into your sheets. 

Being the creature of habit that you were, you ended your triumphant day going to the pub to have another cheap meal and a drink or two, spending a considerable amount of the evening chatting up another student who had also stayed behind during the break.

He was cute, and funny, and although he hinted more than once that he would like to continue your evening back in either one of your dorms, you didn’t have the energy to entertain a potentially dull night of barely there pleasure. 

He smiled too wide and had too much confidence to really know what he was doing, and you felt immediately that he would be the type to get his and leave you high and dry. So you parted, promising emptily to get another pint together soon enough, though you knew it wasn’t your stellar verbal company that he wanted.

Sinking into bed that evening was an easy and pleasurable experience. You crawled into your sheets, smile on your face and victory on your tongue. Your tit-for-tat was successful, and now you could finally just focus on your work, and not the sandy haired Michael Gavey who seemed to invade your every thought. 

-

The sun trickled through the curtains by your bed, a warm stream of light hitting your face. You woke with a stretch, body slowly waking up with the day.

You didn’t have much planned after yesterdays success, and didn’t have a want to do much at all, but there was only so much lounging in bed one could do over the many weeks of break, so you decided to go back to the library, at least for an hour to make up for yesterdays losses (despite the personal win). 

You looked around your room and settled on a skirt and some tights with a turtle neck sweater, unable to find anything else as a pile of dirty clothes had slowly accumulated in the corner. You made a note to yourself to take it to the laundromat later with some coins and your book. 

The walk to the library was the same monotonous one as it always was. The same stone walls, the same dark wooden detailing and floor, the occasional beautiful stained glass window, and the ever strange silence of an empty college. There was a light layer of frost on the grass outside, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it would snow. The trees were bare except for a handful of orange and brown leaves, hanging on for dear life, or perhaps, holding on with dead fingers.

Rigor mortus of the petiole.

The steps creaked beneath your feet as you made your way up to your usual spot, the library cold as it always was, causing you to wish you had brought a warmer jacket with you. When you got to the landing, you expected to see him, sandy hair, glasses slipping down his sharp nose, hunched over the same textbook as he wrote out his equations with dizzying speed, but the tables were empty, and the aisles were barren, and all that was in the library was you.

Briefly you wondered for a moment if something has happened to him. Had he gotten sick? Too ill to crawl out of bed, laying in his sheets with a fever and no one to comfort him?

You frowned at the thought. 

Why did you care?

His ego was likely too bruised to show his face, and was hidden in another alcove or other smaller library somewhere else, or perhaps even in his room.

Maybe he even had friends, and decided to spend the day with them, likely another student in STEM. 

You could have sworn you saw him and Oliver Quick in the pub one night together.

You walked past his empty table and continued down the end to where your little nook was, grazing your fingers along the spines of the books as you went. Each ridge another spine, each spine another thousand upon thousand of words that had been read, dissected, and rewritten by many a student. You liked to think about how many hands had touched the pages, how many eyes had skimmed the words, how many bags, beds, tables, couches, cars or trains they had been in over the years, and how many times you had read them, or held them in the same spot.

You emerged from the isles to your nook.

It was not what you had expected that morning.

Certainly not what you had expected any morning come to think of it, but even so, your steps halted and your heart began to quicken, anger slowing creeping up your neck, heating your face.

He was sat at your table.

Your table.

His glasses had slid down almost to the tip of his nose, a long slender finger daintily pushing them back up to the bridge, lips pouted in their natural pout as his hand flew about his notes, writing equation after equation in a speed that would intimidate even Einstein. Michaels hair was disheveled, as though he had run his hand through it multiple times, as he contemplated the pros and cons of sitting there. 

He must have landed on the pros.

“What are you doing.” You bit out, an irritating sense of dejavu seeping into your bones.

Michael didn’t look up at you, your feet almost pushing through the floor, anger rooting you in place.

“Hm?” Came his noncommittal reply.

It set you off.

“You’re in my seat.” You hissed, swiftly stepping towards him.

The light from the window beside him cast shadows across half his face as he looked up at you, he sucked his teeth loudly, “Your seat?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” His head dipped back down to his notes, his blue eyes looking up at you from under his lashes as his hand continued to write, “This is a public library. It’s a public seat.”

You stormed forward dumping your bag atop his hand, his pencil scraping across his notes on the paper, “You know exactly what I mean.”

His jaw ticked, steely blue eyes flicking to where you dumped your heavy bag atop his notes and own text book.

“I’m sorry, I’m not tutoring on break.” His tone all too demeaning as he over pronounced each word.

Your hands slammed down onto the desk as you leant forward towards his face, “I don’t need a tutor and you know it, you miserable little cunt.” Anger boiled inside of you, building and building, ready to burst. 

Michael bristled, “Who the f-“

“-Oh, fuck you, Michael. You’re a miserable piece of shit, thinking you’re above everybody else, sneering at anyone who dares to be happy. I’ve seen you, always sulking about in the shadows because no one can stand to be around you.”

The silence was almost deafening.

Oh God.

That was a low blow.

You had taken it too far.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling very guilty, “Michael,” You started, “That was-“

A pale hand lifted in front of your face, the man standing almost near silently in front of you. He went from below you, to towering above in a split second, his sheer size double your own. He stared down his sharp nose at you with a look of contempt, the rage behind his eyes flickering with barely held restraint.

“Do you want to know what I think?” His voice was low, lower than you had ever heard it go, emotion almost drained entirely from it except an icy edge which sent the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

You stayed silent, watching as he stepped away from the desk, chair scraping on the wood to come towards you slowly, your heart beating like a drum behind your ribs.

Though you could step back, his eyes kept you glued to where you were, head craned up to look at him as he came closer, the tension in his jaw growing with every passing second.

It was unnerving, and everything within told you to run, but something made you stay.

Call it guilt.

Or intrigue.

His hand dropped to his side, slow, calculated steps coming closer, each one as silent as the next as his cheek twitched whilst looking you over.

“I think,” He began, a foot away from you, voice low, “That you’re just desperate enough to accept the scraps that they give you, because you fear if you don’t,” Another step, taking him toe-to-toe with you, “That you’ll be a nobody like me.”

Your mouth became dry, lips slightly parted as a tinge of hurt spread through your chest.

You shook your head faintly, “I don’t think you’re a nobody.”

A brow lifted, “You called me a nobody.”

“I was wrong.”

“Wrong because it was hurtful? Or wrong because you have more in common with me than you do with them.”

You shook your head, “Why is it always about them?”

“It is always,” He sneered, “About them. I have watched you take what little you can get from them like a beggar. Talking to Felix in the hallways, doing his homework for him, smiling at him like a dolt.”

Your eyes widened in surprise.

“I’ve seen you.” His shoe bumped against yours as he leant forward, “You’re nothing to them. How long was it before they even learnt your name?”

“Stop it.” You whispered, feeling tears prickle in your eyes.

Michaels head tilted, “Why? It’s the truth.”

“It’s not.”

The sandy haired man clicked his tongue at you, head tilting, “You and I both know that’s not the truth, is it? What did Farleigh call you again?”

A lone tear fell down your cheek, leaving a wet track in its path. Your lip wobbled as you tried to keep your composure.

You didn’t know how he knew.

You didn’t know how he could have known what Farleigh had said to you that night, drinking in the pub together.

You hadn’t even meant to join them, but their table grew bigger and bigger until it swallowed your own and soon enough they were buying you shots. It was never a regular thing, you were never quite in the circle, but not quite out of it either. More-so lingering in the nothingness of neither here nor there. 

Michael looked at you pityingly, not in a way where he held empathy for you because of it, but in a way where he pitied you for being the way you were. It was demeaning. Cold. 

Detached.

“Parvenu.” His lips pronounced each syllable slowly, darkly, and it made you ache.

Another tear fell as you took a sharp intake of breath, sniffling roughly. 

Shame built inside of you. 

It was humiliating to relive that moment, let alone with Michael. And now that you knew he had witnessed or heard it, you wondered who else may have been there to hear Farleigh’s degrading comment and snort of a laugh followed. The way he would raise his brows at you the rest of the night as if to say ‘See? You don’t belong here, and we can all see it’, ‘We let you here because we can’.

“I don’t understand-“

Michael interrupted you, "-You let them walk all over you, and for what? Parties and accolades?” The corners of his lips turned downwards, “They don’t even respect you. Do they know that you’ve stayed behind on break alone? Do you think they’ll think of you in their mansions? Do you think Felix would ever-“

“-You talk about them as if they’re irredeemable, but they’ve been far nicer to me than you have.” Another tear fell, and your stomach tied itself in knots. 

The anger seemed to simmer in his eyes, “They don’t deserve you.”

Your brows pulled down in confusion, “What?”

“You let them use you, chasing after their fleeting affections. It’s pathetic.”

Anger began to simmer inside of you, “Pathetic? You know what’s pathetic?” You leaned up on your toes, “The fact that you have so clearly been watching me, and everything that I do, and not once have you tried to be my friend. Do you know what’s pathetic?” Your voice began to rise, heat inside of you rising with it, “Your anger and hatred of them clearly stems from jealously and embarrassment because they would never talk to-“

Your eyes widened in shock, his lips crashing against yours as he yanked you forward, hand at the back of your head pulling you in tightly. You were so in shock, you didn’t know what to do, standing stiffly in his arms as the other circled your waist and pulled you against him. 

It only took a second for your brain to come to with what was happening, your eyes sliding shut as you kissed him back roughly, all teeth and vitriol as you bit the soft flesh of his lips roughly. He hissed, pulling you closer, your feet stumbling against his as he backed you towards the wall of books beside the desk. 

Your spine hit the shelf roughly as he shoved you back, both of you panting before you grabbed his shirt angrily, yanking him back towards you. You were so furious, so almost feral that you needed this more than you would have thought.

There was something about him, something about him that made you want to pull your hair out and also sit on his face to silence him. 

His kisses weren’t skilled, but they were filled with passion as his teeth clashed against yours, a fight for dominance ensuing as you let a hand slide up into his hair and pull. A grunt came from deep within his chest as you yanked at the roots cruelly, hoping it would hurt him. Heat built in your gut rapidly, the need for him growing stronger with each passing second. 

The hand on your waist slid down further, pulling up your skirt as his fingers pressed against your clothed core. You gasped into his mouth, hips thrusting forward from the pressure. With the other hand disappearing from the back of your head, it met the other between your legs, hooking into the gusset of your tights before you heard a loud rip, cold air immediately hitting your core. 

You gasped loudly, Michael taking advantage as he slid his tongue into your mouth, flicking it upwards against the back of your teeth. He tasted faintly like chocolate, and it was a taste that you didn’t mind at all. His fingers immediately sought out your centre, sliding impatiently between your folds to gather the wetness from your entrance. 

His movements were sloppy, yet focused, drawing it up to your clit as he rubbed fierce circles into it that bordered on painful. You nipped his bottom lip harshly again, yanking his head back and away from you to look at his face as two long digits circled your entrance. 

The pupils of his eyes were enlarged, almost swallowing the blue of his iris whole. His cheeks were flushed a dusty pink, and lips a deep red after your bites. The glasses upon his face were slightly skewed and lightly fogged, the hair atop his head sticking up in different directions from your rough handling. You didn’t even get to observe him for longer before he roughly shoved the two fingers inside.

“Fuck.” You hissed, back arching towards him, shoulders roughly pushing into the bookshelf.

A mean smirk pulled on his lips as he crooked his fingers against the front of your walls, quickly thrusting his hand in and out with dizzying speed. Your breath caught in your throat, brows pulled down as you looked at him, low whine falling from your lips.

“So wet already.” Michael teased, thumb lightly brushing your pearl, a spark of intense pleasure shooting up you. 

You pulled his head back towards you, moaning into his mouth as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, the sound of your arousal loud in the both of your ears. Michael pulled up one of your legs, hooking it around his hip, the cold metal of his carabiner pressing sharply into your inner thigh. Pleasure began to wind tightly in your gut, his long fingers reaching parts of you, your own couldn’t. 

Panting against his mouth, your hand flew behind you to grip one of the wooden shelves, elbow bumping against the spines of the books.

His pace never once faltered, all those hours of quick equations all day boosting his hand strength and stamina. You were surprised that he even knew what he was doing, but the questions floated aimlessly in the back of your mind, not quite sticking.

Your nails dug into the wood of the shelf, hand falling from his hair to his shoulder as your head fell backwards against the shelf, your peak barreling towards you.

“S’close. Please.” You whined, rolling your hips into his hand.

A mean laugh broke your peace, his fingers pulling out of you sharply, preventing you from reaching your release. Your eyes flew open, brows furrowed in frustration as you looked at him, smug smirk on his lips as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, sucking on the arousal soaked digits. 

You moaned weakly looking at him as he did it, hips rolling towards him in an attempt to get him to touch you again. Michael lips pouted at you as he pulled his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop.

“Touch me.” You breathed, pulling him towards you with your leg, the zipper of his cargo pants pressing against you sharply. You sighed, rubbing your centre against his pants, a wet patch no doubt beginning to stain the front of them. 

“So desperate.” He cooed at you, your core clenching at his words as your eyes fluttered.

The hand that had been inside of you quickly made its way to the front of his pants, the other joining as he hastily undid his belt, not pulling it through the loops, followed by his button and zipper. Michael hastily reached into his pants and pulled out his hardened length, the tip pink and weeping, veins crawling up the sides.

You swallowed thickly as you looked down. 

Oh shit. 

Michael was very well endowed.

You didn’t know what shocked you more, the fact that he had such a sizeable cock, or how he thrust it up into you without warning. The stretch was bordering painful and you cried out loudly, Michaels hand slapping across your mouth to stifle the sound. 

“Quiet.” He hissed, pushing in to the hilt, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix. Your eyes screwed shut as you whined into his palm, your walls struggling to accommodate him as he slowly pulled out, each vein and ridge catching on your inner walls deliciously.

The slow heat inside of you began to build once more. 

Michael thrust into you sharply, your head banging against the back of the shelves as he kept his hand against your mouth, the other holding your hip against him. He set a brutal pace, fucking into your slick walls without abandon as he chased his own pleasure, punching the air out of your chest. 

“Fuck.” He hissed, forehead pressing against your own as he looked down to where you were joined, the leg you stood on stretched on your tippy toe to meet his height as he fucked you, “Your cunt is fucking tight.” 

“Mmm.” You moaned, eyes slipping shut as the coil within your gut began to wind rapidly, each brutal thrust stretching you wide against him with painful pleasure. 

“You gonna cum?” He panted, his eyes shutting behind his glasses that slid down his nose, “Can feel you squeezing my cock. Fuck.”

You nodded desperately beneath his hand, eyes opening to meet his steely gaze as he pulled his head back to watch you, the book shelf creaking as he fucked you against it.

You were so close, so fucking close. 

“Go on.” He commanded, “Cum on my cock like a little slut.”

Your core clenched around him, blinding white pleasure coursing through you as you came, his hand falling from your mouth as you moaned loudly, the noise echoing in the library.

“Shit, fuck. I’m gonna-“ Michael’s thrusts stuttered as a long moan burst from his lips, the warmth of his cum filling you.

You whined, hands gripping his hair as you crashed your lips against his, kissing him lazily as you both panted, his cock throbbing inside of you as your walls squeezed every last drop from him. 

Michael pushed as deep as he could go, the warmth of his cum beginning to leak around the base and down your thighs as you pulsed around him. Your mind was blank, fuzzy warmth spreading through your limbs in a soporific manner. He broke away from the kiss, breathing heavily as he looked down at you, glasses slightly foggy.

You searched his eyes and his face before a smile cracked on your lips. Michael mirrored it with a lopsided grin, huffing as he breathed out deeply.

Feeling a burst of confidence, you let a hand brush between your legs, swiping some of his cum that had dripped onto your thigh up to your mouth. You licked it off your finger slowly, opening your mouth to let him see the mess on your tongue before swallowing.

Michael’s adams apple bobbed, his cock twitching inside of you, “Fucking hell.”

You huffed another laugh, leaning forward to kiss him again, sliding your tongue into his mouth so he could taste himself as well as you on his tongue. He hummed loudly, dropping your leg to cradle your head in his hands. 

When you broke away once more, you couldn’t help but notice the glaringly obvious. 

Michael Gavey just fucked you in the library.

His tongue wet his lips as he looked at you, “Was that good?” A beat, “For you?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, “You?”

“Yeah.”

Silence began to stretch between the two of you before you shifted your hips, Gavey took the hint and slowly slid from your walls, causing you to whimper from the overstimulation. He tucked himself into his pants as you righted yourself, looking down at the gaping hole in the gusset of your tights.

“Well this will be an interesting walk home.” You mused, a hum of a laugh tickling the back of your throat.

Michael snorted, “Made quite the mess.”

“You did.”

Michael smirked, “It wasn’t all me now. I can’t take all the blame.”

You let your skirt drop, smoothing it down as you stepped away from the bookcase, looking back up at him.

“I suppose not. There was effort on both ends here.”

“There was.”

You nibbled at your lip, the unspoken words just at the tip of your tongue, “Michael-“

“-27. We’re in the same block.” His eyes searched yours.

Room 27? Why-

“Did you want to get a drink?” Michael blurted, shifting on his feet awkwardly as though you hadn't just fought and angrily fucked against a bookshelf. 

You looked at him closely. There was no sign of insincerity in his eyes.

He was offering an olive branch. 

You let a smile wash over your face, enjoying how his own came to match it.

“Sure."

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to any tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

Taglist: @magnificentdelusionr @twglitching @fan-goddess @mydemimonde @itsshizyne @4v1d-m3t4l-3nj0y3r @liv-cole @lcecgg @sepherinaspoppies @marihoneywk @trashy-panda777 @bellaisasleep

[writingforatwistedworld]

Hi! Can i ask for a self aware twst when the reader surprises adopted Silver as their son. Like just pointing at him and saying 'you are my child now' with Silver, Lilia and Sebek. Hope you have a good day!

Hehe. Anon, you know what you are doing. In fact, I would say you even want the chaos. And for that I love you come here so I can hug you.

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, Diasomnia chapter spoilers (Lilias part, maybe Sebek), religion, violence, isolation, kidnapping, obsessive behavior

Lilia Vanrouge/(Platonic) Silver/Sebek Zigvolt-Adopting Silver

Oh ok. Cool cool coolcoolcoolcoolcool

Well, at least that one room dedicated to you in the form of an altar can now be used for more practical uses (finally)

When Lilia heard you say those words and point at his son, he fell from the chandelier he was dangling from

Not only did he have to navigate through not accidentally telling his son that he was the blood related son of an enemy general and that exactly this general killed Malleus mom

But also that he had now a second parent that also happened to be god

Mhm totally normal

Conversations to strangers about his family were already playing out like this in his head:

Hi, I am Lilia Vanrouge, yes the one in your history book, this is my son Silver, yes he looks like a certain knight, and my lovely partner and also parent of this lovely human, yes, FU**ING GOD THEMSELVES

Ah yes, sitting in church will totally not be awkward after this

Bro legit sits you down with a pen and paper, asking you to sign the marriage certificate

Asks you what flowers you want to have on your wedding. Doesn't matter if you are a woman, man or identify as something else, he is planning that

Also has already planned out how to get you into the Valley of Thorns without anyone noticing

Because no matter how devoted he is to you, he will always be too greedy to share your attention with someone else

You could have said this as a joke or some other protective instinct towards the silver-haired male but all that man's father hears is a marriage proposal

Lilia is just happy that you feel some sort of positive way to his family member (makes things easier when you are stuck in that cabin)

I mean, he did see Silver as a present from you, a child meant to bring him back to the light after being so long in the shadow of war

And now the three of you were together! How lovely!

Which would mean that you planned this all along. Dear Overseer, if you liked the idea of you being a family you could have just told him so

He will be the best partner to raise a child together you could dream of

And should someone dare to interrupt the perfect, peaceful life you three (plus two more) had, he wouldn't mind swinging that sword again

Wait what?

What do you mean with that?

Are you sure you want him to be your son? Really?

Apparently he was not the only one surprised since he could hear the thud of his father falling to the ground behind him and Seek screaming somewhere behind him

Be prepared for a silver haired knight to look at you with the biggest puppy eyes and ask "Do you really want me as you son?"

Critical hit! Someone call a doctor. I think the Valley of Thorns god can be killed by cuteness

After that he is glued to your side (even though you have to part sooner or later since he is not living in Ramshackle)

One morning you woke up to the guy standing there with some food being like "I made some food."

Like where the Heck did he even get the keys for the dorm? (He broke in through a hole in the ceiling)

Silver always comes running to you whenever he does something and wants praises

Once he was best in one of his classes and he stood there with the report like he could turn into a dog and get headpats from you any second

But, as I am sure you are aware of, this is a blog with yandere themes and we have to say goodbye to the fluff at some point

That sword training comes in handy is all I'm saying

I mean, he has probably enough strength to break someone's leg with his bare hands by simply applying some pressure

And that one Diasomnia student that tried to take his son-status away from him was found again in a not-so-compatible-state-with-life kind of situation

I'm letting you imagine what happened

Like Lilia he is ready to burn everyone who dares to interfere with your little family

The forests of his homeland are pretty though so no need to worry about the appearance of your surroundings once they bring you to your new home (who needs social interaction anyways?)

A second of silence

And then the screaming started

“OH HOW KIND OF OUR OVERSEER! TO SHOW A MORTAL THEIR KINDNESS AND CARING SIDE!”

Seek would be lying if he said that he wasn't surprised

You, aka the Overseer, aka some higher being, AKA GOD, were known in the Valley of Thorns to be kind and caring, yet also distant and never approaching others directly

But then you literally adopt someone, making that person someone in your inner cycle?

Well, if Sebek knew one thing then that those Priests were going to have a crisis as soon as they learned about this

Totally not jealous

He would try to get closer to you since, apparently, you did allow others to get close to you

But he was happy as long as you were

After all, he was now the (not-so-official appointed) shield of the Valley of Thorns, something he got passed on by his grandfather

So of course he couldn't be family with you

That didn't mean he couldn't “help” you

Someone intruded on that dinner you had with Lilia and Silver?

Ouch… that punch must have hurt

Whenever Silver or his Father had to interfere because someone else came too close then they were some incredibly slick (looking at you Rook) or lucky person

Don't let his loud mouth fool you

This crocodile has done unmentionables in your name in order to make things easier for your new found family

For what? Oh you know, becoming his neighbor back home… forever

[csuitebitches]

Crafting a Personality and Capitalising on it

How do we craft a personality that is socially charming yet true to our roots?

How do we mingle and meet new people without feeling awkward or shy about it?

How do we not lose ourselves while following all these blah blah etiquette rules?

Welcome to part 2 of my Chic Girl Mentality series. 🤍

Today, we will focus on crafting a personality that is still you but better.

First, let’s talk about people in social settings. You’ll meet people who are confident, secure and socially charming. You’ll meet quiet people who may be equally socially charming or just very shy and conscious. You’ll meet the braggers and the doe-eyed followers. There’s a lot of different types of people in the world and knowing how to gracefully navigate most of them is nothing but a learned art.

People, regardless of their bank balance, are insecure of what they do not have yet. This can be looks, money, experience, lifestyle, and so on. How do we capitalise on this without exploiting or manipulating anyone?

By knowing how to tell a story.

That doesn’t mean that you need to become a public speaker or politician, it just means that you need to be able to craft intriguing stories about yourself, using your own life and experiences, to “sell” an interesting version of you socially. We’re all interesting people but only a few of us know how to say that we’re interesting without saying that we’re interesting.

Experience 

People, even those with money, will always be more attracted to those who have experiences, especially, unique ones. Whether it’s travelling to exotic locations or trying new culinary destinations, or wearing unknown designers, knowing obscure artists or writers, or being at the top of your industry… experience is the most important thing to cultivate first.  You already have experience. If you went to school, high school, college, joined clubs, your first job, any travelling, etc - these are all experiences.

Make a list of 5 of the most interesting experiences you think you have.

Hobbies and interests 

Have a couple of lowkey hobbies that you feel enthusiastic about. Whether it’s doing some charity work on Sundays, or cooking, or pottery, whatever it is, keeping a hobby is healthy. 

There should be something to you that an acquaintance can remark about: “CSB? Oh yes, I’ve heard that she’s a great dancer.” 

Vulnerabilities 

Certain vulnerabilities must never, ever be shared. It will 100% be used either as gossip or blackmail. 

However, coming across as someone with no weaknesses is rather untrustworthy- it makes the other person feel that you’re clearly hiding something. 

Make a list of vulnerabilities that are small and you don’t mind sharing. These should be vulnerabilities that will never ruin your reputation in any form but can be used as a form of bonding with empathy. 

And make a list of hard core vulnerabilities you know you should never share with anyone. Keep it memorised rather than written down. 

Experience + Hobbies or Interests + Safe Vulnerabilities = Personality

Storytelling 

Now that you have some experience, hobbies, interests, and your “safe” vulnerabilities sorted even if it’s limited - what will make it stand out is the art of storytelling. Some storytellers can make even the most mundane experiences sound magical - it’s all in the words and delivery. There’s a reason why every Holy Book is a story, packed with lessons and morals - it’s impactful, easy to remember and recall and relatable. Craft your experiences into stories. Use those 5 experiences that you noted down and start writing them down as stories.

Take up an online storytelling class or watch videos. Start honing this skill by writing and reading good literature. 

Refine your 5 experiences further. Run it through chatGPT, say them out loud and most importantly- start testing them out on people. See what makes them chuckle and what doesn’t; what makes them empathise and what doesn’t.

A famous comedian whose name I can’t remember does the same thing. He creates his set. He goes to a small pub and tries it out on the audience there. And the first set is always the first. The audience may not laugh at his jokes, they might boo him or sometimes, he might get a laugh out of them. But every time, he goes home and refines his set further. Once his set is fully refined, and he accomplishes his goal of the audience peeling with laughter at every joke, that’s when he goes on national TV / on tour etc etc.

The most important thing is to craft your stories of your experiences in a way that it delivers the value you want the person to remember about you.

For instance, if I want to be seen as creative and innovative, I won’t tell the person in front of me, “oh, I’m soo innovative and creative!”

Rather I will weave that into a story. “When I was 24, at my first job in the advertising space, we were losing clients left and right. And one weekend, I was on a trek on the mountains - it’s one of my hobbies - this idea hit me, and I suddenly knew exactly how to get our clients back. My team was hesitant about my idea, and we got a lot of pushback, but we went ahead. The night before my launch I was so nervous, I got hardly sleep. And you won’t believe it, but the idea worked! The response was fantastic.”

Let the other person come to the conclusion of you being innovative and creative. Human beings love to deduce things and jump to conclusions and provided you set the context the right way, you should be able to project the version of you that is the best part of you.

Vocabulary 

A sign of a good education- even if you don’t have it - is a diverse vocabulary. I’ve always had a little more respect and awe for those who are articulate, can speak smoothly and speak confidently. I’ve noticed that my American friends, for instance, tend to talk fast with lots of filler words, and sentences tend to end with a pitch up instead of down, which to me indicates hesitation or indecision. Speaking slower, ending your sentences with pitch going down to indicate a full stop rather than up makes you seem like a refined speaker even if your subject is utterly stupid. 

Body language and mannerisms, social interaction 

Watch old classic Hollywood movies to really understand this - especially romantic ones. Choose ones with a femme fatale or siren-like female lead, and watch how she enraptures the male lead or the audience around her. 

A combination of fantastic storytelling and body language will take you places beyond your dreams. Some of the biggest frauds, scammers, politicians, criminals are also some of the best storytellers. Humans are attracted to stories, we pick up body language intuitively, we can sense when someone is nervous or isn’t. Unfortunately the world isn’t a kind place and will not necessarily help you out of your shyness- in fact, that might just make you the best target for exploitation. 

Storytelling + Vocabulary + Body Language = Your Best Personality

[suashii]

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝐻𝐼𝒟𝒟𝐸𝒩 𝑀𝐸𝒜𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮

info ⭑ gojo x reader. 1.4 wc. sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ teacher!reader ﾉ both gojo and reader are ~22 ﾉ gojo has taken in megumi + tsumiki

it’s the third time this month that megumi has been the only student left in your classroom. your boss had warned you that this should be something to expect, that his circumstances are special. you truly haven’t had a problem with him sticking around once the school day ended—your only issue is that you’re never certain what days he might be extending his stay or for how long.

it’s the tiniest bit inconvenient, not knowing whether you should bring extra snacks for the boy or if you can agree to plans after work with friends. you’ll never fault megumi for the uncertainties of his schedule, though.

he really is a good kid.

you’re sitting across from him now and he’s got one of the two onigiris you packed for yourself during your after-school grading set on a napkin. his hand reaches out for the last bite of the rice ball before popping the remainder in his mouth. you don’t realize you’ve been staring at the boy until his dark eyes meet yours. in an attempt to avoid any awkwardness, you ask, “how’s your sister?”

“good.” his reply is short, simple—not far off from how he usually acts in class. megumi’s not much of a talker, that much has become clear to you in the few weeks you’ve been his teacher and even more so in these one-on-one moments. it doesn’t bother you and you’ll never push him to hold a conversation he clearly doesn’t want to have.

“anything you want to do while we wait?” he’s finished his snack and you aren’t sure how much longer it’ll be until his guardian, gojo, is here to pick him up. “we could go to the playground if you’d like.”

he shakes his head, leaning down to grab something from his backpack. “that’s okay, i’m fine reading.”

it’s only your first year teaching out of college but you can confidently say that you haven’t met many ten-year-olds who choose to read over playing outside; on a playground all to themselves, at that. the sight of megumi flipping through the pages of his book to pick up where he left off brings a small smile to your face.

your initial thought is that it speaks well of his example at home. although, from the short interactions you’ve been granted with gojo, something tells you that megumi’s interest in reading came from elsewhere.

you’ve had trouble getting a read on the one called gojo satoru, partly because each of your meetings with him last no longer than a couple of minutes, but mostly because he gives off the impression of someone who doesn’t want others looking at him too critically. it’s a little strange, you think, that a man as outgoing as him is just as guarded.

you ponder on the seemingly endless unknowns that surround gojo as you clean up the small snack you shared with megumi. thoughts of him tug at the back of your mind even when you’ve returned to the table with the boy to get some grading done.

the sun’s harsh rays have started to turn a softer golden by the time gojo arrives to take megumi home. he quietly hums a made-up tune as he walks down the path that leads to your classroom. the melody dies in his throat several feet down the hall upon his realization that your door is ajar. virtually undetectable footsteps carry him the rest of the way and he stops just outside your room.

gojo spots you and megumi situated at one of the many tables, a book in megumi’s hand and a pen between your teeth. there’s a slight crease in your brow as you examine the paper on the surface that makes gojo chuckle a bit.

the sound draws your eyes up and to the doorway. there gojo stands, a grin pulling at his lips.

“gojo-san,” you greet him, standing up and wiping the palms of your hands on your thighs.

your words act as an invitation as the man only enters upon hearing them. he waves and offers you a spoken “hello” before placing the same hand on top of megumi’s head. the boy brushes it away nonchalantly and begins to pack up his things.

your gaze is focused on gojo, how he theatrically frowns at megumi’s silent dismissal and how the dark lenses he wears slide down the bridge of his nose, exposing cerulean irises framed by white eyelashes. his attire is different than the uniform he typically dons when you see him at the end of the day, something you’ve noticed holds true every time he shows up late. this time around, he wears a plain white button-up and sandy brown linen pants.

you’ve never questioned it before but the trend has started to make you wonder what exactly he gets up to on these days. although, you don’t think about it too hard. as long as he’s here and megumi makes it home safe, there isn’t much beyond that that you need to know.

“yoo-hoo,” the sing-songy call rings through the air. you reckon that it came from gojo, if his toothy smile is any evidence.

“i’m sorry,” you apologize for spacing out (and for something so trivial, at that) before painting on your practiced smile. “did you say something?”

“i was just asking if megumi here gave you any trouble.” gojo tries, again, to ruffle the boy's hair but a smaller hand is there to knock his away, as if megumi expected the bothersome gesture. 

you hold back a laugh at gojo’s continued efforts being met with even more denial by the fifth grader. “not at all.”

“good.” the white-haired man nods, strands of the silky hair brushing the tops of his glasses. his gaze flits from megumi to you in a split second and even though most of his eyes are hidden, you can feel the intensity his stare holds. “sorry for keeping you so late, i had a bit of extra work to handle today.”

“i don’t mind,” you reassure him with the wave of your hand. “but…”

a thought crosses your mind that leads you to bend down and grab a sheet of paper from the table. you fold the parchment into a square before picking up the pen you had been grading assignments with earlier and scribbling something on the page. gojo and megumi watch quietly as you do so and wear similar expressions of confusion when you hold the paper out to the former.

gojo takes it without hesitation and angles his hand so that he can read what you’ve written. it looks like your phone number and name followed by a wonky smiley face. his eyes widen ever-so-slightly before he looks over his glasses at you. “what’s this for?”

“oh!” you seem to have forgotten to tell him the intent behind sharing your number. you can feel your cheeks heat up as you explain. “just so you can text me in advance if you know you’ll be running behind.”

for a short moment, gojo had interpreted it as something different, though, he opens his mouth in the shape of an understanding “ah” at your clarification while stuffing the square in his pocket. he doubts he’ll ever have the time to actually do so but that doesn’t stop him from saying, “got it, will do.”

your lips curl up in a tight smile as you silently berate yourself for coming off as unprofessional.

“we’ll be out of your hair, then.” gojo’s voice breaks through the thick silence between you. you simply nod in acknowledgement.  “thanks for staying late with megumi.”

the dark-haired boy politely parrots his thank you.

“you’re welcome. see you both tomorrow.”

on their walk home, megumi glances to his side at the man towering over him. he’s pulled out the piece of paper you gave him and is happily saving your number in his phone. megumi may be young, but he’s nothing if not attentive.

“why do you keep stopping at home to change?” he asks gojo.

clear blue eyes stay glued to the device in his hand. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

megumi scoffs. “you put on cologne, too.”

“i always smell this good,” gojo argues, finally stuffing the things and his hands in his pockets. he looks down at megumi, wearing the smile the boy finds annoying. 

something about it feels like confirmation to his suspicions.

“are you trying to impress my teacher or something?”

the fall of gojo’s smile is all megumi needs to know that he’s right.

lithe fingers reach down to pinch the boy’s cheek. “shut it, kid.”

sua here! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

[cheeseceli]

You speak another language

Pairing: Ot8!skz × Gn!Reader

Genre: fluff, reaction

Warnings: mention of food at Lee Know and Felix's, I think that's it?

Request: how do you think ot8 would react to the reader speaking in their native language? Especially if it's not korean/english?

A/n: It's embarrassing the amount of time I took to write this one💀 the worst part is that I actually spent every week tryna find the best way of putting all my ideas together. Hope you like it anyways!

Bang Chan

‌Would have a pet name for you in your mother tongue

‌ Like idk if you speak spanish his nickname for you would be "mi amor"

‌Finds it really attractive btw

‌When you're speaking your mother tongue he sees just how much comfortable you are

‌You literally shine in his eyes

‌He'd just be staring at you with heart eyes

‌And if you're learning Korean or English he'd be more than glad to help you overcome your difficulties with the language

‌Would be your personal professor fr

‌Speaks slower around you so you can understand everything, and wouldn't mind repeating himself at all

‌He knows that the language barrier can be a bit intimidating and that it can make you afraid of opening up completely

‌But he'd be so reassuring all the time

‌Really tries his best to comfort you when you need it and it doesn't matter the language, he makes is clear that he loves and will be with you all the time

Lee Know

‌If you had a hard time speaking Korean but still tried your best to communicate with him and his parents in Korean, he'd fall DEEP in love with you

‌He gives me major "I don't understand but I love you" vibes ngl

‌lmao he'd learn the bad words before anything else

‌If you're speaking your mother tongue when in the phone he'd try to guess what you're saying

‌Genuinely doesn't know what's going but he's invested

‌And he repeats some words after you say it

‌Not in a mocking way, he just finds it cool how the word sounds and keep repeating it to himself

‌Like if you speak french he'd be like "bonjour. Bonjour? Bonjour"

‌It's endearing

‌But yeah you'll have to translate everything to him later

‌He wants to know about the tea

‌Cooks your hometown dishes for you!!

Changbin

‌ If you have a foreign accent when speaking Korean or English he finds it adorable

‌ And he also finds your mother tongue adorable

‌ It doesn't matter if you speak one of the sexiest languages in the world

‌ This man finds it adorable

‌Eventually learns your language

‌He'll take classes, buy text books and everything

‌He truly believe that learning how to communicate with you (in every language for that matter) is like a "boyfriend duty"

‌So he'll be more than happy to learn

‌Tries to show his affection in ways that are not spoken as well so you both could surpass the language barrier

‌He'll get you flowers, gifts, would take you to amazing places, would have the best dates with you and everything you can ever think of

‌You'd have the best memories ever with him and no word would need to be said

Hyunjin

‌ Would ask you to teach him some pet names and sweet phrases in your language

‌ And would 100% say "I love you" in your mother tongue in certain moments

‌ Like in more intimate moments that he wants you to truly understand how much he loves you

‌ Would love if you replied with saying "I love you" in Korean

‌If you have a different accent than him when speaking Korean/English he might start speaking like you

‌yk when you get someone's accent just by living next to them

‌That's him

‌He finds it fancy

‌And when the boys tease him for this he might get shy but he's also so proud? Like "yeah I got it from my s/o :D"

‌Writes a letter to you once he finds confidence in speaking your language. It might have some mistakes here and there but it was so sweet, and the intention behind it was so lovely, that you couldn't help but tear up a bit when you read it for the first time

Han

‌Loves your culture so much

‌He'd ask you to show songs and movies and things like that in your language

‌Like if you're Indian he'd ask you to show him some Bollywood movies

‌He'd try to guess what they are saying and it's a whole game for him

‌He's there for the vibes honestly

‌But I think he'd end up learning a thing or two and later would like to learn the whole thing

‌Would incorporate your mother tongue in his songwriting I'm 100% sure

‌And!! would ask for songs recommendations so he could sing to you when you least expect it

‌Learns two words in your mother tongue, probably uses them in the wrong way, thinks he is fluent.

‌But he also knows a lot of slangs in your language, it's kinda surprising ngl

‌He'd occasionally drop a random slang in your language when talking to the kids and everyone would be like ???

‌"what did you say?"

Felix

‌ Learns your language to surprise you

‌ Like every time there is a break when he's practicing he'd open duolingo

‌(He'd have a hella long strike, 100 days in a row or smth)

‌When you're speaking on the phone with someone he tries to listen to it as a listening exercise

‌Is smiling to himself throughout the period of the call and when you ask the reason why he just brushes it off

‌Cooks your hometown dishes for you pt. 2!!

‌But seriously tho

‌He knows it's hard to be far from home, especially by yourself

‌So he really tries to make you feel at home

‌He will cook your nationals dishes, will sing songs in your language, will encourage you to speak in your mother tongue around him etc

‌:(

‌Also, 2 kids 1 room flashback

‌He likes to have meaningful conversations with you where he tells you how much he loves and appreciates you

‌Unlike Hyunjin, he'd say everything in English because it feels more genuine for him, as it's his first language

‌So if you're replying to him in your language, he'd feel SO happy

‌He thinks this is like a proof that everything you're saying comes from a deep place somehow. It makes him fall in love once again

Seungmin

‌ Wants to learn your language the moment you guys get in a serious relationship

‌ Besides wanting to be able to talk to you in your own comfort zone

‌He'd want to be able to talk to your friends and family who speaks your mother tongue

‌ Like the first time he sees your parents he'd be ready to talk to them

‌i'm so down bad for this man it's not even funny anymore

‌anyways

‌Would take you everywhere in Korea so he could show you a bit of his home (would tell stories about the places so excitedly)

‌And would love if he had the opportunity to go to your country

‌Would love it even more if you showed the place around to him and explained a bit about everything you know

‌If in the first stages of the relationship there is a language barrier, he'd plan dates that don't involve a lot of talking

‌Like he'd take you to concerts and karaokes

‌music is universal after all isn't it?

‌He always give his 100% into the relationship it's so cute

I.N

‌ Finds it really attractive pt2

‌ He loves your accent

‌ And he loves your mother tongue as well

‌ He could spend a whole day just listening to you speak, even if he doesn't understand a single word

‌ And if you're learning Korean, he'd love to see your progress and to see you getting more comfortable while speaking it

‌ I also see two possible scenarios:

‌ One, he'd wake up one day really determined to learn your language and wouldn't stop until he does

‌ Two, he'd never stop and actually learn it, but he'd end up catching up with some things you say and show to him. So in the end he'd know the basics and some essential phrases

‌I believe he'd genuinely enjoy to learn about your culture

‌Like, whenever a cultural shock comes up, he'd be invested in understanding it?

‌Of course sometimes there would be misunderstandings, but I truly think he would try to see the positive view rather than seeing only the cultural crash

‌He might even learn a thing or two and get your culture's habits

Feedback is very much appreciated!!

Dividers by @cafekitsune