#26 day study challenge

[alfalfaaarya]

26 day Study Challenge 👒

Hello guys

Sooo this month is gonna be superr busy, not because of academics but because we have a festival in college - Ganesh Utsav ,in September and our batch is organising it this year. So along with extra curricular activities I'd like to be on track with my academics as well ! 2nd semester exam will be in September .

So I'm gonna do a study challenge !

We will try to do atleast one study session of 40 mins every day + watching a study video and give some time for journal completion.

Start : 6 August 2024

End: 31 August 2024

Tag me or use #26daystudychallenge if you're joining.

Comment, Tell us your goals !!

Letssss gooooooo 🔥

[morgan-angel]

Day 26 of my art challenge. ⚔️

#morgan challenge

The un-zoomed version :

Twenty-sixth day of september (September theme's is finding my art style. I've got a lot of references for this theme, I want to be confident with an art style. So here am I !). 🌱

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Okay so, late post right here. I did continue this piece today but I'm counting it for yesterday only. Today I'm starting the "big illustration" and I'll not share anything until I finished it. Like a big surprise for us !

So, I will describe everything like it was today's drawing. Btw, go check my others drawings/posts if you want to and have the time ! Thanks y'all ❤️

Sooo, you saw the first steps of the process last post ; here is the final illustration. It was not supposed to be an illustration at first but here you go. Today's was about digital painting, color studies, anatomy, and art-style. I know it's a bit "static" and not anatomically correct but y'all... I'm actually in love. The vibe and the coloring, the HAIR ? That's it. That's my style. It's a very good end to this month, before the big illustration (see the ping post in my profile for context).

Like I said, no post 'til end of the month with the big finale drawing. I hope y'all will like it, I'm currently working on it. Thanks for all of the support during this month. I love y'all sm ❤️

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Go see the pin post on my profile if you need some context :)

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Working on opening a lil shop on Kofi tho. I really want to do some commissions. If you want to just follow me, here is the link : https://ko-fi.com/eishi_h

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Also, if you want some better quality photo or just want to see more of my art, go on my insta : https://www.instagram.com/eishihashimoto1?igsh=N2MycDh6NnE4cDMw :)

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See y'all in 3 days !

⚔️

[small-spark-of-light]

day 5 was more figure studies, but specifically quick gestural ones!! these are messier than the ones id post normally but thats kinda the point XD

[sophia--studies]

100 days of code - day 26

WEDNESDAY - NOV 15, 2023

Hi! What I studied:

Read about CSS frameworks, also watched some videos to understand its usage.

Read about CSS pre-processors.

Read about HTML forms.

Didn't do anything too practical, just tested what I was reading on my text editor.

That's it.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝑺𝒊𝒕 𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍

╰┈➤ ❝ rafayel x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24: day 26

tags : pwp (without plot), starts out kinda sub!rafayel but gets very dom!rafayel at the end, phonecall involvement(?), teasing, oral (m. receiving), deepthroating, hair pulling, vaginal sex towards the end (unprotected), dirty talk, praise, use of pet names "princess" "baby" "cutie". lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : ~1.2k

an : one of my older requests!!! 🥰 this took sooo long and i'm still sloowly trying to catch up with my kinktober fics as much as i can, but!!!! hehe hope you enjoy <3

taglist : under the cut !! (SIGN UP HERE)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

How far is too far?

It was a question you asked often.

Even as the towel you'd held up slid down over your body, even as you took slow, teasing steps towards the figure in front of you.

How far is too far?

You studied his reaction.

His eyes widened—you didn't miss the way his gaze raked over your body, the picture of pure, unadulterated desire.

And his breath hitched.

You heard it in the slight stutter in his words. So normally relaxed and unbothered just a few minutes earlier as you went to take you shower… Yet, now, he was struggling not to let his distraction show to whoever was on the other side of the call.

Thomas, you'd assume—from the flippant way he'd brush off the caller's words, and from the way this seemed to be another call about his upcoming exhibition.

How far is too far?

You asked yourself again as you got on your knees and crawled over the bed towards him, watching his every move.

The redness in his cheeks intensified, and you smirked.

There was a silent question in his eyes: What are you doing?

Yet, the answer was as obvious as it could be.

Feeling satisfied with yourself, you palmed over his pants. Slow, teasing movements… Every rub had him twitching beneath your touch, erection becoming more and more visible. The way that paused mid-sentence to swallow thickly was almost comical.

"Rafayel? Are you there?"

You could hear the voice on the phone.

"Uhh… You know what, I gotta—"

A look.

That was all it took from you.

A raised eyebrow.

You hooked your fingers through the waistband of his pants to pull down, easily exposing him to you, and made a vague gesture—continue.

Sometimes, Rafayel was obedient.

"…Nothing. Go on."

And with a wink, you leaned in.

His cock felt warm and heavy in your hands as you held him, head dipping over his tip to allow a bit of your saliva to fall onto it. Your eyes never broke away from his as you brought your thumb over it, spreading the wetness, coating his shaft in a way that made it easier for you to glide your hand up, and down.

Up, and down.

His breathing began to shallow.

There was a challenge in your eyes—end the call, and I'll stop.

Perhaps, the only reason he didn't hang up was because he know.

You felt a shiver of excitement zip up your spine, because you had power. For once.

Payback.

"Sit still, prettyboy," you whispered. You flashed him a grin before you leaned in closer, allowing your breath to fan over his dick, enjoying the way it twitched in your hands.

So responsive.

Still, you looked at him. You licked a strip up his length, tracing over the prominent vein with the tip of your tongue—he shivered, you felt it. As you sucked on his cockhead, he barely held back a moan. A dollop of pre-cum began to leak from the tip, and it almost couldn't be any more perfect than this. Watching him, you could see it—his lips parting, his cheeks flushed, eyes nearly glazing his forehead.

He was perfect.

He was delicious.

He felt good in your mouth like this.

Slowly, you lowered your head, taking as much of him into your mouth as you could. Your hand continued to stroke what you couldn't fit, and you began to set yourself a rhythm. All the while never looking away, all the while watching him draw in sharp gasps, trying not to whine, trying not to make it obvious through the phone that you were sucking him oh-so-good—

"Sorry. Shit—sorry. Gotta go. Talk… talk—oh, shit—talk later."

You could have laughed.

The moment he pressed on the red button to hang up the call, his phone had bounced on his bed, arms falling to his sides as he gripped at the sheets below. "Fuck—shit—princess, you… you menace, you…!"

Your actions had him spreading his legs a little wider, face scrunched up with pleasure. It didn't take long before his head was thrown back, and all he could say was your name.

Yet he wouldn't look away from you.

Wouldn't close his eyes.

Even as you swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock, even as you sank down deeper on him, even as you bobbed your head up at a pace that had him writing, moaning, bucking his hips up to your mouth.

He wanted to watch.

He wanted to watch you take more, and more, and more of him until you nearly gagged, the reflex bringing tears to your innocent, doe-like eyes, and—

"Fuck."

It was so easy to lose himself in you.

Within seconds, he had his hands tangled into your hair, hips raising from the bed, using you like his personal little toy. His hips fucked up into your mouth, twitching everytime his eyes moved from the sight of his cock disappearing into your swollen lips—to you.

Your eyes.

"Fuck—fuck—fuck—!" He moaned out, a mix of curses and your name until nearly unintelligible. "Shit! Yeah, princess, just like that, baby—gosh, you're insane, look at you being all innocent like that with me all in your mouth…"

His words had you going faster of your own volition, taking him in deeper, fighting through the discomfort of having so much of him in you. You could tell. The closer he got to the edge, the louder and needier he would get—hands falling back to fist the sheets, back arching off the mattress.

This time, his eyes closed.

And with every, every last bit of his remaining strength…

He pushed you away and flipped you over, caging you between his arms.

"You…"

His voice was lower this time.

Dangerous.

Yet you could only grin back up at him, your mouth wet with drool, and he narrowed his eyes.

"Cutie…" he mumbled. "I'm gonna get you back for this. You are soooo not getting away with this, you hear me?"

He was panting.

His chest heaved, his face almost completely red from exertion, and if you looked down—which you did—you'd see him throbbing and swollen, almost enough for you to think it felt painful.

Perfect.

"Are you?" you mocked him, clearly digging your own grave. Yet your tone didn't ease, and the proud look in your eyes didn't falter. "What're you gonna do about it, huh?"

A scoff.

"Oh, princess… If only you knew…"

A smug, almost infuriatingly sure-of-himself kind of smirk made its way to his lips, and before you could think to retort, he was inside you.

The sudden stretch, the sudden entrance, had your eyes widening. Your back arched into him in both shock and desperation, because he'd slid in so easily—you'd gotten wet just from sucking him off, and he took pride in that fact.

"You're not gonna leave until I have my fill, cutie," he smirked. With a knowing look, he leaned in to whisper: "And I'm gonna fill you up really good."

Another thrust, and he let out a chuckle.

"Sit still, princess."

taglist! @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @ononpetitecroissant @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @rafayelsgf @spotted-salamander @love-and-deepstrays @oharasmommymilkers00 @rafslvr @keioxo @theanbitchless

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[holyspiritgirl]

What is Spiritual Warfare and how to overcome it with the help of God?

• Spiritual warfare is the idea that there's a battle going on between good and evil forces. In Christianity, this means a fight between God and His angels against the devil and his demons. It mainly happens in our minds, hearts, and spirits. It’s about resisting bad thoughts, temptations, and influences that go against what God wants for us. Though we believe that Jesus has indeed already defeated Satan by dying on the cross and coming back to life, the enemy still tries to lead us to sin in order to push us away from God, thus spiritual warfare.

• “Symptoms” vary since the devil attacks you where it hurts the most, to make you as vulnerable as possible; but here are some of the most common ones:

- believing that your not worthy of having a relationship with God or talking to God therefore feeling the need to distance yourself from him

-self destructive / sabotage / harm temptations

-paranoia / overthinking

-strong headaches / body aches

-temptations towards sin such as lust, gluttony, laziness, anger.. etc, depends on your weaknesses

-self hatred & self doubt / doubt in faithfulness

-hopelessness, fear, anxiety

-random depressive moods & replaying bad memories … the list goes on!

• Living a life more aligned with God’s will is seen as a threat to Satan and his purposes, leading to increased attempts to discourage or derail one’s faith journey. With a deeper relationship with God often comes a greater sense of purpose and mission, attracting more challenges and obstacles from evil forces trying to prevent one from fulfilling God’s plans. Our Father allows these intensified battles to refine and strengthen our faith, helping us rely more on Him and grow spiritually.

• Here are some bible verses that may help you during those tough times battling spiritual warfare :

-Corinthians 10:13

- Psalm 91

-Ephesians 6:11-18

-Isaiah 54:17

-Galatians 5:17-26

- Peter 5:8-9

-Romans 8:37-39

-Luke 10:19

-James 4:7

-John 16:33

-Deuteronomy 3:22

-Matthew 4:10-11

• Let me know if you’d be interested in me posting those verses and talking about some of them with you guys, sort of like a bible study kind of thing. It’d be a pleasure ;)

Have a blessed day 💞💓👼🏻

[mochirizu]

A collection of WK headcanons because I can

MARTIN - 28, 5'10, he/him, December 23rd(Capricorn)

BIGGEST heart on the team. Sees good in everybody

He's like if someone gave a golden retriever a human suit.

BANNED from the kitchen he CANNOT COOK at his ancient self

He pulls the 'big brother card' a LOT

He LOVES to sing, but nobody has the heart to tell him he sucks so they just...let him

He loves so easily

Martin makes the stupidest dad jokes

He labels his things with a blue sticker so he can keep his stuff organized... he still loses things

He taught himself Mandarin Chinese out of sheer boredom; he is now almost fluent

He needs people to like him or he will DIE

Do not give him coffee; he will be insane and hyperactive and then go awol for the rest of the day

CHRIS - 24, 5'8, he/him, July 19th(Gemini)

Burned-out gifted kid? Yes

His experiments normally consist of him using Martin as his guinea pig for payback for all the jokes he got pulled on as a kid

Loves cinnamon-flavoured anything

He also has a pretty high spice tolerance

Used to be friends with Zach in preschool, but it stopped not long after that

He climbs trees because he's a sensory seeker.

Chris is an avid tea drinker

He is also the best dancer on the team

Chris was such a geek in high school, he didn't 'glow up' until he was 17

Since the Tazzy incident, Chris occasionally has cravings for raw meat but chalks it up to low-iron

The only one on the team with a consistent sleep schedule

AVIVA -26, 5'5, she/her, April 5th(Aries)

Her dad raised her to be tough and strong, therefore making her a perfectionist and a maniac lol

Aviva loves Hot chocolate with Marshmallows, and watching nostalgic cartoons

She has a nasty habit of comparing herself to others and gets ridiculously insecure when anyone challenges her opinion. She masks it by being defensive and doubling down

Beautiful by default(duh) but she doesn't see it

She has a nasty older brother who was the stem of all her insecurities

She found a grey hair once and cried

She was cheer captain in high school, hence her athleticism

Aviva is messy as hell. Like, more messy than Martin.

She also dislikes mud

The worst dancer on the crew(I'm sorry), but she's the most talented singer

NEVER lets her hair down, it gets in the way too much.

KOKI - 27, 5'4, she/they, Feburary 13th(Aquarius)

Raised by a single dad(parents divorced)

Grew up basically rich, but was kept humble

Koki's uncle taught her mechanics before he passed away when she was in middle school

She had a pet canary named Booboo

She has pent-up anger issues

LOVES Zytago music as her family comes from New Orleans

She 100% has muscles and biceps. Martin is jealous

"No, I'm not gay. Everyone wants to kiss their girlfriends at some point....right?"

When it comes to cooking, she's Jimmy's sous-chef

HATES being in tight or confined spaces

Wants to style her hair in something else other than a single puff, but always gets busy before she can book an appointment with a stylist

JIMMY - 25, 5'9, he/they/doesn't care, August 20th(Leo)

Had a very normal childhood. Like, eerily normal.

Has a younger brother and an older sister and they are ALL GINGER.

Everyone in his family is a Ginge except for his mom

Jimmy can speak nearly fluent Korean because he took a gap year in South Korea after High School.

He studied software engineering but dropped out to attend culinary school instead

He is the COOKING MASTER EVER

His family is secretly wealthy as FUCK

He has his own power suit, just never uses it

Had an emo phase

Jimmy's full name is James Coleman Benedict Zeigler

Grandma Jimmena has a bunch of random stories from her childhood and they are all UNHINGED

[eoieopda]

meet me at the bar (ksj)

You're supposed to be staring down the barrel of the last — and most important — examination of your life, but you only have eyes for your study buddy.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x AFAB!Reader Type: One Shot | Fluff w/ Smut | 18+ — Minors DNI Word Count: 7.5k AU: Law school, study-buddies, best friends to lovers, highly educated idiots in love CW: Bad jokes, Latin, fingering (v), unprotected sex (p in v), Seokjinnie hits it from the back. A/N: My inaugural Seokjin smut is dedicated to my donsaeng-in-law (see what I did there?) @yoongiphoria, who is now embarking on this stupid, stupid gatekeeping journey IRL. Best of luck, my lil love. I'll be waiting for you on the other side of the war! MJ FIGHTING ~ Big ups to my other lil love, M, for beta reading 💕 I posted an epilogue drabble on 7/26/23. Also: This is written based on my experience in the American legal (educational) system. I was, frankly, too lazy to study up on South Korean law for a fanfic, lol. ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors will be blocked, on sight. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

You are not spiraling.

You are a paragon of health and wellness, you tell yourself as you gulp down a mug of coffee that is still far too hot, like you’ll die without it. 

More bitter than the taste on your tongue is the realization that you might die with it —  your third cup in fewer hours. As far as you can tell, though, it’s a win-win situation: You’ll either generate enough anxious energy to finalize your property law flashcards, or you’ll drop dead before you have to review them.

And you won’t have to take that exam…

And you won’t have to pay off your student debt…

Besides, you figure, the stomach ulcer you’re likely inflicting on yourself will be infinitely less painful than dragging your under-caffeinated corpse through yet another day of studying. Another eight, consecutive hours spent forcing forgotten subjects back into your maxed-out brain. 

It’s worth it, you repeat to yourself, though this gauntlet has turned out to be a full-time job that steals, rather than pays. You can faint on top of the finish line, so long as some part of you crosses it.

You should be used to it by now, running a marathon at a dead sprint. That’s all you’ve ever done — push yourself. You attended your first day of preschool and never stopped, never took a breath. Through elementary, middle, and high school; then for four years of university. Going, going, going.

Stumbling through that eighteenth lap around the track, you kept going because — well, being a student was all you’d ever been. That’s your toxic trait, you’ve since discovered. Your concept of self is rooted exclusively within the context of a classroom.

You didn’t know it at the time, but your decision to take the Law School Admission Test — or the HellSAT, as you’ve come to call it — might have been the start of a quarter-life crisis. But you didn’t stop there. No, you took that score and ran with it. Slapped it onto every application as a desperate plea for acceptance. 

When you received your admission letter, you were a bright-eyed twenty-two-year-old with a bachelor’s degree and a vaguely defined dream.

Call it naïveté or call it gravitas, there wasn’t a doubt in your smooth little brain that law school was the logical next step to take. That being intelligent and hard-working made you well-equipped for the challenge that came with pursuing a Juris Doctor. After all, you’d spent nineteen years delaying gratification — what difference would three more make?

Within the first hour of your orientation, you — a professional student — had already learned something new: You were a masochist and, frankly, somewhat of an idiot.

Thankfully, you weren’t alone. 

Sitting — dissociating, more like — at a nearby table was a lanky boy you’d first noticed on your tour of the law building. His glassy-eyed stare was aimed somewhere in the middle-distance, and even though his slightly agape mouth said nothing, it communicated everything. He was the only other person in that atrium who looked the way you felt: scared shitless and riddled with buyer’s remorse. A can crushed under the boot of self-doubt.

It was the first time you and your wobbly knees went running in his direction, but it wouldn’t be the last.

He was so deep in a daze at that moment that he didn’t notice the way you threw yourself into the open chair next to him, didn’t look up at the scrape of wooden legs against the granite floor beneath them. He nearly jumped out of his skin when you announced your presence with words, however. 

It was less of an introduction — the way people in a society tend to greet each other for the first time, ever — and more of a twister. Words whipped through the air at a dangerously high velocity, no syllable ending before you started on the next. Just one breath, a few consonants, and a pair of dark eyebrows shooting up to cower behind his bangs. 

“Was — was that Korean?” He asked when you finally ran out of wind. 

Judging by the way his wide eyes softened, you knew he wasn’t making fun of you. You’d simply scrambled his brain so thoroughly that you’d transcended the known limits of language.

More of a question than an answer, you peeped, “I think so. Maybe?” You wavered with a sigh. “I’m no longer confident that I know any of the things I thought I knew, though. So, um, don’t quote me on that.”

“You’re giving me too much credit. I didn’t catch enough of whatever that was —” He gestured vaguely. “— To even attempt to quote you.”

Within seconds and without knowing, he’d disarmed the bomb ticking away in your gut. He must’ve sensed it, too, because his face lit up so completely that you had to look away. One glance at the floor-to-ceiling windows confirmed that the sun hadn’t reappeared at that time of night. 

That rush of warmth you felt then  — that absolutely insane brightness — was powered exclusively by the grin taking up the entirety of his face. If that megawatt smile alone hadn’t rerouted your oncoming anxiety attack, the distinct, squeaking laugh that erupted out of his chest would’ve done the job. 

You doubled over, either under the weight of your own giggling or with the relief you felt in finding someone equally lost. Eyes swimming with mirth, you wiped wetness from your cheekbone and snorted. “Was that a windshield wiper?”  

“No, that was embarrassing.” 

The tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks went some dizzy shade of pink. 

He rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck with one hand and held the other out to shake yours.

“And I’m Kim Seokjin.”

Now, when the door of your apartment flies open without warning, it’s that same savior standing on your threshold. That designation may be melodramatic, but if that brown paper bag contains what you suspect it does, it’s deserved.

Seokjin, patron saint of breakfast sandwiches, flops down on the couch that stretches along the opposite side of your coffee table. From where you sit on the floor — hunched over your notes like a hobgoblin — you reach out your expectant arms and make grabby hands in the space between you.

You see mischief flash in his eyes, but only for a second. In the next, he’s pretending like he doesn’t see you; doesn’t hear your petulant little whines. He extends long legs out over the cushions, clutches the bag to his chest, and lets his head roll back to rest on the couch’s arm.

“Wanna know what I did today instead of practice essays?” He asks, eyes unfocused on the ceiling above.

All you actually want is whatever that smell is. You can’t stop staring at the bag of food in his hands. If you try hard enough, maybe you can summon some sort of psychic energy, make it levitate towards you.

He doesn’t wait for your response. “The math.”

“Huh?” 

You frown; and as you do, you reluctantly shift your gaze from Seokjin’s hands to his face. He isn’t looking your way, but you can tell he’s grimacing based solely on the way his jaw twitches. It’s a miracle he hasn’t ground his teeth to dust over the past three years, given how often he makes that face.

In an attempt to ease the tension in his posture, you tease, “Didn’t we go to law school because we can’t do math?”

He cracks an unwilling smile. A tiny one, but a smile nonetheless. Without turning his head, he extends his arm out in your direction. In the split second it takes for yours to spring forward like a snake, that blessed bag dangles; the scent of sausage, egg, and cheese wafts through the air and restores your will to live. Clutching your prize, halfway to feral, you tear into it without hesitation.

As you bite off more than you can chew, Seokjin prepares his rant with a sigh, “So, consider this.”

“Mmphf,” you advise through a mouthful of greasy bliss.

“Bar exam prep takes eight weeks, right? If we’re only counting business days, that’s forty — forty days, for a minimum of eight hours each.”

He becomes more restless, the more he talks. Heated, he sits bolt upright and turns wild-eyed to you.

Oh, he’s gone full-tilt insane.

“Three-hundred-and-twenty hours, then. And if you think about that in terms of our clerk wages —” He slaps his hands down on his thighs for emphasis. “— at 2,625 won per hour —” 

Then, he points to you, as if the increasing volume of his voice wasn’t already holding you hostage.

“— we’ve sacrificed nearly two million won in income, just by studying for this fucking test.”

You swallow down the last bite of your sandwich, which you downright hoovered while Seokjin took the path of most resistance. After clearing your throat, your interjection overlaps with his next point: 

“Seokjinnie, why didn’t you just double our monthly —”

“That’s after we paid ninety million in tuition, hundreds of thousands on study materials and registration fees —”

You cut him off. “Is this your way of asking me to Venmo you for breakfast?” 

He freezes, caught fully off-guard. Shocked eyes widen like you’re the ridiculous one. “Of course not!”

He waves you off like his thoughtful gesture is no big deal. Then, like he’s tired himself out, he sinks back onto your couch. From his back, he grumbles with crossed arms, “‘M just sayin’ that I’m tired of this shit.”

You can’t help but giggle at the pathetic pout working down the corners of his mouth. “Felt,” you agree, though it feels a little bit like a lie.

Truth be told, you feel more awake now than you did ten minutes ago, and you can’t attribute it to the coffee — not when the evidence so clearly indicates otherwise. 

Over the course of three years, you’ve built up quite the case against yourself. You’ve made the following findings of fact:

Whenever he pops up, Seokjin brings your mood up with him. Even now, as he marinates in anguish on your couch, his presence gives you a reason not to beat yourself unconscious with the four-kilogram prep book that sits beside you on the rug. Makes you hate your circumstances a little less, if only because you share them with him.

And, for a rapidly deflating balloon, you have to concede that Seokjin looks stunning this morning. 

Unlike you and your day-three hair, he somehow had the energy to wash his. The mid-sections of some strands are still damp; the parts that aren’t frame his face in fluffy waves. His shampoo is something fruity mixed with something crisp — grapefruit and mint, maybe? — and it floods your senses, causing question marks to replace any coherent thoughts you might otherwise have. You’d be lying again if you said you didn’t want to find out for sure how soft those tresses really are.

The verdict? 

Well, the jury’s still out, but you know you’re guilty. 

If being down this bad for your best friend isn’t a criminal offense, it should be.

You shake your head to clear it. To smother the flame licking up the inside of your belly, you grab the certified mood killer off the coffee table and hold it up in front of you. Surely, the cure for a sexual tension headache is an eight-centimeter stack of color-coded, neon index cards covered in information you shouldn’t need to memorize in the first place.

“Exam’s in one week,” you say with a shiver.

Seokjin rolls onto his side to look forlornly at you. You are not looking at his bare hip bone, which appears where the hem of his shirt shifts from the waistband of his joggers. Nope.  

You continue the search for the point you’re trying to make. “I can barely spell mortgage, let alone explain what the fuck to do with one.”

“Don’t think I know what land even is at this point,” he sighs. Dejected, he lets his arm go limp. It spills off the edge of the cushion and dangles until his knuckles brush against the rug. “What is this property you speak of?”

Biting back a grin is impossible, so you press your lips together instead. Just like that — just by Seokjin being Seokjin — the hellscape you willingly walked into gets a little brighter. Maybe, you think, you can do this.

You look down for a moment to shuffle up the cards you spent the better part of two days preparing. As you stare down at the staggering amount of knowledge you might be tested on, you can feel the crease returning between your eyebrows. Your grimace is back, too, like a reflex. 

If you make it through this experience without premature wrinkles, you’ll be shocked.

There’s shifting on the couch ahead, but you don’t look up until Seokjin breezes, “From this angle, it almost looks like you’re smiling.”

His arm is no longer dangling off the edge of the couch. His entire upper body is. Knees now hinged over the backrest for balance, he’s upside-down and smirking impishly at you.

He has to know you’re in love with him, right? How could he expect you not to be?

You clear your throat and arch a single eyebrow as a challenge. “What is the rule against perpetuities, Seokjinnie?”

Like you, he can recite it in full at a machine-gun rate of fire. It’s been beaten so far into your heads that you might utter it on your deathbeds, with your last gasping breaths.

“No interest in land is good unless it must vest, if at all, not later than twenty-one years after some life in being at the creation of the interest,” he responds with a smug smile. “Easy.”

It’s your turn to smirk. 

“Great. Now, what does any of that mean?”

Without missing a beat, he fires back, “Does anyone know?”

“Absolutely not. Next question!”

Having had the same day, every day, for seven weeks straight, Seokjin is struggling. He’s spent hundreds of hours on the same routine, feeling beaten down and burnt out, all the while. It goes like this:

Every morning, he wakes up and goes for a run in a feeble attempt to feel something other than dread. After that, he eats a lackluster breakfast, and then he promptly chains himself to his desk. When he finally gives himself permission to get up again, it’s dark out; and he’s too brain dead to check the hundred or so notifications that amassed on his phone during his fugue state.

Scratch that. There’s one person he responds to, no matter what. As far as everyone else is concerned, though, he’s a ghost.

Today is the first day out of the last fifty-five where Seokjin doesn’t feel like his brain is being hydraulically pressed. For the first time in too long, he fell into an old routine; one he’s missed. It started with a shower — and honestly, that was overdue — then, he swung by the café he’s frequented over the past three years. There, he made his usual order.

One iced americano, and one sausage-egg-and-cheese croissant with extra hot sauce.

Before he walked back up the block, he downed the former, but he didn’t touch the latter. The latter wasn’t for him, anyways. None of the breakfast sandwiches he ever stops for are.

The subsequent hours looked semi-similar to the three-hundred-and-twenty he’s already devoted to studying. Well, sort of. To be clear, the subject matter still sucks, and he’s still angry that he has to touch it at all, but he isn’t waiting for the sweet release of death in the same way he has been all summer. 

This might have something to do with the fact that, for the first time in nearly sixty days, he’s not on his own. 

More than that, he’s with you.

Having switched away from covenants, easements, and servitudes, he feels a slightly less stupid. Contract law is a little more straightforward and a little less caked in colonialism. Unfortunately, after six hours of burning all his brain cells on shit like liens, Seokjin has begun his descent into madness. 

The worms are digging in, he can’t focus, and neither of you can stop — fucking — laughing.

“I’ll give you a hint,” you giggle, shifting in your spot on the neighboring cushion. You give his knee a pat that feels a tiny bit patronizing, but that makes his pulse race, nonetheless. “It’s a Latin term.”

He snorts so loudly that you do a double-take, just to make sure it wasn’t a sneeze. You both stare at one another for a beat, then comes the eruption.

“It’s all Latin!” He roars. 

To muffle the way he’s wheezing, Seokjin slaps his hands over his face. It’s already tear-stained from his abject failure to keep his shit together. At least he can attempt to hide how red he knows it is.

Your laugh comes straight from your belly. You double over completely when his comes out in squeaks, hand reaching out to squeeze his forearm. It used to bother him, the sound he made when he truly loses it, but it doesn’t any more. 

How could it, when it makes you cling to him like that?

Wiping at your cheeks, you take a deep breath, then sigh, “Does it help if I give you the translation?”

He doubts it because you just pinched your bottom lip between your teeth, and now, his mind is blank. 

Really, it’s a fucking miracle he graduated at all with you around. You and that face you make when you concentrate have always made it impossible for him to do so. It’s why he wasn’t paying attention in class when this shit was taught in the first place, he realizes now. 

To cool himself down, Seokjin grabs the Camelbak bottle off the coffee table, realizes too late it’s yours and not his — oh, well — and shoves the straw into his mouth. He nods once, firmly, and sucks in as much water as he can. 

It all sprays back out of his mouth when you say:

“Naked promise.”

He had always wondered what his life would look like if it ever flashed before his eyes. Now, he knows. It’s not a montage of his finest moments, the most recent of which would not have made the cut. All he sees is you, wide-eyed, glancing between him and the wet spot that’s now soaking through your sweatshirt.

You press your lips together, probably to keep from laughing in his face. It’s a valiant effort on your part and a kind gesture, but honestly, he doesn’t deserve it. His fingers twitch as he clutches the bottle, wanting nothing more than to dump the remaining water on his face. He embarrasses himself more often than not, but this stings his cheeks like a sunburn.

“I am —” he raises his hands, flustered, “So sorry. I don’t remember waking up in a sitcom this morning, but I, uhhh, clearly did.”

When you stand up, you’re grinning. And not in that scary way you do when you’re about to retaliate for some prank he’s pulled. No, that look on your face is genuine amusement. 

Thank god.

You shrug as you cross your arms over your torso and grip the hem of your sweatshirt with both hands. “All good, Seokjinnie,” you laugh. “This needed to be washed, anyway. You see that coffee stain?”

No. 

No, he does not see that coffee stain because the tank top underneath your sweatshirt is clinging to the wet spot as you tug the top layer up your stomach. He feels bad for staring — really, he does — but fuck, your skin looks soft. Like, so soft that he has to grip his water bottle to keep a grip on himself.

Eventually, your tank top separates from your sweatshirt. It falls back down to where it belongs, to Seokjin’s dismay, and the sweatshirt keeps going. 

“Nudum pactum,” you remind him as you pull the drenched hoodie over your head. Playfully, you toss it at him. It smacks against his chest, splays out over his lap. 

Once more with feeling: thank god. 

You sink back down beside him on the couch, and he can’t help but notice that you’re the tiniest bit closer than you were before. It’s innocent, just your bare knee bumping his shin as you re-cross your legs. Still, it leaves his tingling through the fabric of his joggers when you don’t move away.

The silence surges as it settles, crinkling like static in his ears. He almost doesn’t hear you when you ask him again: “What’s it mean?”

Uhhhh.

“It means —”

Unfortunately for him, the water he just forcibly ejected from his mouth didn’t help him. His throat is dry now, and he sounds strangled, he’s sure. The way you’re watching him so intently doesn’t help one fucking bit, either.

Are you doing that on purpose?

You nudge him physically this time, knuckles connecting gently and playfully with his leg. He wonders if you can hear his heart hammering against the wall of his chest in all of this quiet. You might, he figures, especially when you tuck your hair behind your ear.

Instinctively, his eyes flick down to the length of your neck. Without a curtain of hair in the way, it’s even more exposed skin that he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with. Making matters worse for him, you tilt your head to the side expectantly. His breath catches when he tears his gaze away, back up, and sees the way you’re looking at him now.

You are absolutely — without a goddamn doubt — doing this on purpose.

If that’s the game you want to play, Seokjin can play it, too. He turns away from you to set the bottle back down on the coaster he took it from. As he does, he finally answers your question — the nonchalance he’s faking even sounds convincing.

“It’s an unenforceable promise,” he replies casually. “One with insufficient consideration.”

He rights himself in his seat, stretches a bit further backwards until he’s resting comfortably against the arm of the couch. You hide it well, but there’s a hint of a pout on your lips when you clock the newfound distance. 

Check, he smirks to himself, your move.

A flash of pink slips out. Your tongue wetting those lips before you prompt him more quietly than before, “And consideration is…?”

He slips up, makes the mistake of noticing the rise and fall of your chest as you take measured breaths. So, he sees, you’re buzzing with anticipation, too. He wonders if it’s him that’s having that effect on you, or the circumstances. 

For all he knows, it could be pent up steam that you need to release. Stress weighing down your body that you want to get off.

Fuck, he wants to get you off.

He swallows thickly. “Can’t get something for nothing. There has to be an exchange, otherwise it’s meaningless.”

You say nothing, so he keeps talking.

“Quid pro quo, essentially,” Seokjin adds. He chuckles slightly when he realizes. “See? Told you. It’s all fucking Latin.”

The corner of your mouth twitches at his joke, but you don’t make a sound. The hand that previously pushed against his leg inches closer, just barely. It’s such a small shift that you don’t seem to realize that you’re moving it. 

Maybe you feel that pull, too; the one he’s been fighting since you barged into his life without warning. 

Maybe the consideration has been there from the start; a promise for a promise. I’ll jump if you do. Because it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? Since orientation.

Pulling all-nighters in the library, developing matching caffeine dependencies, getting sick too often from the strain of it all. 

You and him.

Laughing quietly in the back of lectures, cold sweats through cold calls, bitching about unpaid internships while you spend indisposable income at the bar down the block without acknowledging the irony.

There are only two real differences between this night and that first one, he notes.

Now, Seokjin isn’t questioning every decision he’s ever made that led him to this point. He’s not scared shitless, not really. Not when you’re around.

You cut through the silence with a sigh that’s barely more than an exhale, so breathy that your voice dissipates as soon as it hits the air.

“Seokjin.”

He could probably hear a pin if you dropped one — can hear everything you don’t say. It’s all packed tight inside that utterance of his name like gunpowder, locked and loaded. 

So, who shoots first?

You shift again. Now, when you speak, it’s deliberate and in a language he can parse.

“Tell me you want me, too.”

Bang!

His body answers for him, pushes off from where he leans until he can get his knees underneath him. He’s waited three years to kiss you, but he can delay gratification for the brief time it takes to overtake you. Pinned with his palms bearing weight on either side of your head, you wind up caged in and breathless beneath him. His right knee occupies the space between your spread thighs.

Again, it’s a miracle he’s made it this far with you around.

He hums, beyond pleased with the position he finds himself in. “Maybe. Tell me if I got the answer right.”

“Oh my god.” You toss your head back to the extent that you can, which admittedly isn’t far. Your frustration rolls off you in waves, heat palpable. “I’ll kill you, I swear.”

“Sounds admissible to me,” he teases further. He flexes an eyebrow. “Isn’t that an exception to the prohibition of hearsay evidence? Speaks to motive, I think.”

Seokjin has no idea why he’s riling himself up like this. If he could shut up — just this once — he could be kissing you by now. You seem to be aware of that fact, too, because you grip his shirt so desperately, one right move might tear it.

You huff out a laugh despite the circumstances,  “This friendship is over, by the way, in case that’s not clear.”

That tiny smile on your face spreads to his. Not over, he knows, just modified. Amplified, finally. Knowing that, he continues to push his luck. 

“Can I make one more joke?”

“So over!” You emphasize with a wail.

He takes a second to center himself before hitting you with award-winning drama, sincerity dipped in the kind of humor he never misses out on with you: 

“You have adversely possessed my heart.”

Your jaw drops at how stupid that line was, but you reign it in just in time for his lips to crash into yours. 

It almost knocks the wind out of him, the way the pieces fall with force into place. They slot together easily, just like you do. With fingers clinging, the weight of his body molding overtop of yours. 

You kiss him until he forgets what life tasted like without your tongue licking into him, your little moans melting in his mouth — until you break apart, gasping for air. Panting, you ask, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting on you?” 

He doesn’t, no, not at all. Thankfully, you take his stunned silence for what it’s worth. After relinquishing your grip on his shirt, you bring your hands up to cup his face gently in your palms. 

With you touching him like this, he has no option but to stare down at you. Bit redundant, he thinks, since his focus has always been locked right here, right on you, by choice. Given that, it’s a little funny that he managed to miss every signal you’ve apparently sent him. But really, it doesn’t necessarily surprise him to hear that he’s even dumber than he thought.

You kiss him slowly this time, briefly, before nipping affectionately at his bottom lip. It drives him exactly as crazy as you want it to; makes his cock twitch inside his joggers, makes his brain foggy with a potent combination of fondness and filth.

Do you have any idea how many times he’s thought about this? He’s genuinely wondering because even he doesn’t know. He’s lost count of all the times he’s watched you nibble on your own lip and wished it was his instead. A million or more, if he has to guess.

Seeming to sense the way you've scrambled his brain, you nudge the tip of his nose with yours and giggle.

Seokjin can’t help but grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Thought of a good one,” you answer. Your smirk does his head in. The contrasting, goofy wiggle of your eyebrows squeezes his heart. “Better than yours, I think.”

He kisses you quick and hums, “Oh?”

You nod. 

The suspense is killing him. So is the way your clothed cunt grinds ever so slightly against his thigh. 

Fuck. 

He wants you, he wants you, he wants you. 

“You gonna make me come, Seokjin, or do I have to wait for you to file a subpoena?”

You may have to seek a refund for the prep course you paid for. 

For as long as you can remember, you’ve learned best through application. You could read the same chapter, over and over, and not absorb a word. The same was true with lectures, even more so when they’re pre-recorded rambles by the weirdest adjunct professors known to man. Sure, you may eventually memorize concepts this way, but they don’t sink in deeply enough to stay. You can’t use them in any way that helps you.

To no one’s surprise, no part of your civil procedure lecture sticks until it falls into your lap. 

Strike that. 

Until Seokjin loses his balance in trying to take his pants off, and falls onto your floor with a yelp.

A moment or two passes while you stare at each other in shock, but that dissolves quickly. And so do both of you, right into another fit of laughter that makes your shoulders shake. Then, you jump to your feet and hold your hands out to him.

Seokjin accepts them, though he doesn’t rely on them at all when he stands back up. He seems more than content just to hold onto you, whether or not he needs you to keep him steady. You have no complaints, for once in your life.

Shaking his head, he chuckles, “Venue change?”

“I think —” You hum and kiss the column of his throat. He swallows hard enough that you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips. So sensitive.  “This is what they call forum non conveniens.”

He’s having none of that, and you don’t necessarily blame him. As it turns out, the shoe isn’t terribly comfortable when it’s on the other foot.

You’re lifted without warning, bent over his shoulder, and hauled off in the direction of your bedroom before you can even squeak in protest. You drop like a bag of dirt — albeit a beloved bag of dirt — onto your mattress once he reaches it; his lips are on yours to swallow the gasp before it can leave your mouth.

As eager as his mouth are his hands, roaming down the curve of your waist and over your hips. With fistfuls of the pajama shorts you hadn’t bothered to change out of, his head dips down under your jaw. The warmth of his breath is quickly replaced by that of his tongue, flicking a short, languid line along your neck.

“Want you so fucking bad,” he breathes. A shiver shoots straight down your spine and you keen, head crashing gracelessly back against the pillows. “Just like this.”

And he means it — you can feel how true it is with him settled between your spread legs. He presses his hips forward to meet your clothed cunt, cock teasing you through four goddamn layers’ worth of fabric.

His lips flutter against your earlobe just seconds before his teeth graze your flesh. He continues, voice vibrating through his chest to yours, “All the time.”

You outright whimper when he grinds against you a second time. Halfway to crazy, you knot your fingers in his hair and wrap your legs around his back in a silent plea for friction. So hungry for him that it aches.

“Seokjin, need — oh, god.” 

You lose your train of thought the second his hand slides into the gap between your bodies. Long fingers slip below the waistband of your shorts and panties, too. He doesn’t stop there. Not with fingertips whispering over the mound of your cunt, not until he finds you wet and wanting.

So wet that you can hear it when the pad of his index finger runs along your slit.

His mouth curves against your neck, prompting you to shift your head on the pillow. You tilt your neck just enough to meet his eyes. 

To your surprise, he’s not smirking. Not even close. If anything, he looks awestruck. Like he’s finally realizing what he does to you, how your body reacts to him. From the looks of it, that discovery is flipping his whole damn world upside down.

For once, Seokjin doesn’t crack a joke and neither do you. It’s quiet, save for your tiny gasping breaths and the ripple of his fingertip swirling over your clit. Even the moan building in your chest gets the memo. It disappears somewhere in your throat when — fucking finally — that middle finger penetrates you.

And god, he sounds so wrecked when he finally speaks. 

“Tried to imagine it a thousand times, you know,” he murmurs. 

You clench around his finger as it curls upwards, shiver when he starts to stroke the sensitive spot along your front wall. His thumb picks up where his middle finger left off, pressing against your clit in a way that makes you mewl.

Seokjin only stops talking to kiss you deep and leave you dizzy. It’s too brief. If asked, you’d never be able to quantify what amount of time is enough, but you know that wasn’t, so you pout.

Ignoring your little whines, he continues with a hum, “How perfect you’d feel, if I ever got this lucky.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

You laugh as you say it, but you’re dead serious: “If you keep talking to me like that, you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

Marry me, why don’t you? Beautiful bastard.

“Threat or promise?” 

He adds a second finger; and suddenly, you’re not laughing anymore. No, the strangled sound you make while you grind against his palm isn’t funny at all, but you can’t care about that now. Your focus is stuck on remembering how to breathe. In, out. On the stars blinking behind your eyelids when they give up and flutter shut.

He works you open for him like he’s already attuned, like it’s the fiftieth time he’s finger-fucked you and not the very first. And, quite frankly, it’s embarrassing how little time it takes for him to pull you apart at the seams.

No one has ever made you cum with such little effort. You’re scared to learn what it’s like when he tries.

You catch the triumphant gleam in his eye in the split second before you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He’s earned it, you suppose, so you’ll let him relish the personal record he’s managed to set on his first time out. You might even let him brag about it, so long as he continues to make you tremble like this.

“Shit,” he chuckles low near your ear. 

If he sounds muffled, it’s because you’re still waiting for your system to reboot. He knows this, knows how fucking sensitive you are, and slides his fingers out of you as slowly as possible. Still, those aftershocks throttle you; the unintentional stimulation makes you jolt.

“Yes,” you nod helplessly, squeezing your eyes and jaw shut simultaneously. “Shit is right. Perfect analysis, no notes.”

A chaste kiss is placed on your temple. It’s petal soft and subak sweet, but it functions like a defibrillator. Within a split second, he’s revived you. Eyes now open again, you exhume your face from where you buried it and blink up at him. Warm brown eyes light up when you reappear.

He’s so fucking beautiful that you almost want to avert your eyes. Key word: almost. You’ll drink in the sight of him until you drown, you think.

Seokjin looks concerned. With a shy smile, he checks in: “You okay? We can stop right now if you’re not.”

You don’t know who they are, but you know that they don’t make them like him anymore. Which is a fucking bummer for the rest of the world — just not for you. This one is all yours.

“You quitting on me, Kim?” You let your knee fall inwards to nudge his side, and you pretend not to notice how boneless you still feel. “Didn’t wait all this time to tap out early, did you?”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, nonetheless. His warm palm massages the outside of your thigh affectionately, if only for a moment. Then, he pats his fingertips against the same spot. “Shorts off, champ.”

You follow his instructions and move to shimmy out of them, but not before snorting, “Champ?”

“Fine. Old sport?” He offers with a shit-eating grin. Your shirt smacks him in the face once you peel it off and chuck it at him. He pouts. “Hey!”

“Thanks, I hate it.” 

He tugs his shirt over his head, launches it over his shoulder without looking. Your unabashed stare immediately clocks the slight hint of his abdominal muscles. Lean, but not sharply contoured in a way that looks painful to touch. Soft. Perfect, even.

What lab were you engineered in?

“For someone with so many opinions, you don’t offer many suggestions.” He shoots you a pointed look while he unties the knot at his waistband drawstring. “What’s your proposal?”

You’d love to bite back at him. Really, you would, but he pulls his boxers down alongside his joggers, and every meaningful thought you’ve ever had goes flying out the fucking window. All that’s left is I want you, I want you, I want you.

Automatically, you reach out with a tentative hand, craving nothing more than to feel his velvet length in your hand. To your surprise, he stops you. He catches your hand in his, lifts it to his lips, and brushes a kiss over your knuckles.

“Rain check, baby,” Seokjin smiles against your skin. There it is. That’s the one. “Need to fuck you, posthaste, or I’ll simply pass away.”

You open your mouth to comment; he breezes right past you. He points to the mattress, then to the wall to your left. “On your side, love.”

That works, too.

“Face away from me.”

Never in your life have you moved so fast, all but throwing yourself down where he told you to. As you land with a slight bounce, you mouth to yourself, Posthaste? Nerd.

A second slips by, then Seokjin slips into the space behind you. His lips tickle the back of your neck when he kisses the base of it, causing you to gasp yet again. Maybe that’s just how you breathe when he’s around — like you don’t know how.

His hand drifts down the length of your side, passing over the doughy flesh of your ass. He gives it a squeeze for good measure — because of course he does — but he doesn’t linger, not now.

That hand continues until you feel his fingertips scratch affectionately at the back of your right thigh. He doesn’t need to ask; you lift your leg, allowing your knee to hinge overtop of his hand. Now that his hands are occupied, you offer yours to assist. 

This time, he doesn’t stop you when you wrap your fingers around his length. And fuck, there’s so much of it. Part of you wants to ask where the hell he thinks he’s going to fit all of it, but you’re not a quitter, so you keep your mouth shut. 

Seokjin shivers under your touch, breath catching in his throat so blatantly that you can hear it right behind your ear. 

“Hmmm,” you tease, squeezing the crown gently as you circle your wrist. “Does that work for you, champ?”

His forehead drops against your shoulder. The groan you force out of him is twice as long as necessary, followed by an unwilling laugh. “You’re right, okay? You’re fucking right. It’s awful. Just so fucking bad.”

Your thumb swipes over his leaking tip, smearing the bead of pre-cum waiting for you there. You’re relentless. “Sure you don’t like old sport better? Huh, buddy?”

“Baby,” he warns. There isn’t much heat to it, but it burns white hot in your core anyway.

The stretch of his cock does, too, when you finally stop fucking with him and start letting him fuck you. The breath he holds as he enters you slowly is let out in a shuddered groan when he bottoms out. Perfectly full and fully incapable of teasing him further, you simply melt back against his chest.

He’s careful to start, testing the waters and refusing to push you too far, too fast. You want more, though, you always have. Greedy, you rock your hips back against him to force him deeper into your weeping hole. He takes the hint, fingertips pressing bruises into the underside of your knee as he picks up his pace — and you’re far too blissed to care.

He pistons into you eagerly, deliberate. His hips clap against the flesh of your ass, but the sting of it all can’t compete with the way he splits you open. Makes you reach back to cling to any part of him you can get your hands on, claim whatever you find for keeps. Buried to the hilt, and somehow,  he’s still not close enough.

You’re close, if your fluttering walls have anything to say about it. You’re babbling, too, so lost in pleasure that you can only repeat — over and over — how fucking perfect he is. How perfect for you he is.

Seokjin peppers kisses down the curve of your shoulder as he thrusts. It’s the only real indication you have that he’s at a loss for words, too; that he’s compensating for the quiet. He kisses you with an open mouth, teeth grazing the space he finds, leaves a mess on your sweat-slicked skin.

“Fuck,” he grunts. You mewl. “Can’t stop thinking about —”

“Just like that, please.”

“— how many times I could’ve —”

You wail, “Shit, Seokjin, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

The staccato strokes will be the death of you, you’re sure of it. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. Not when he kisses the back of your neck again, and not when he murmurs directly in your ear, “— had you like this, if I’d said something years ago.”

Please, please, please. 

It’s all you can say, again and again, as if he isn’t already giving you everything you want before you even ask for it. Responding to every movement you make, fucking into you with precision so that each vein of his cock brings friction where you crave it. Fucking you through your orgasm when it catches you in a riptide and sends you reeling.

“That’s it, baby.” His voice is soothing despite the recklessness of his thrusts. “So good for me. So fucking good.”

You’re still gushing when he snaps his hips forward and stills, cock twitching as he lets himself go inside of you. Still trembling when his head droops forward to nuzzle against your shoulder blade, and when you feel his breathing begin to slow in tandem with yours.

Once he pulls himself out of you, a few moments pass in fucked-out silence. It’s comfortable, if you ignore the mess between your thighs — and you do, for now. Your brain is too busy to waste time on that.

You’re exhausted and bordering on delirious when you say it, but that doesn’t make it any less true:

“I might love you, probably.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. He doesn’t move either, which makes you wonder if he’s fallen asleep with his face smushed into your bare back. But you feel the tiniest exhale through his nose; the kind of laugh you get from him when he’s too tired to be any louder.

His reply is muffled, lips still pressed against your skin, but you hear it perfectly.

For the record, he probably loves you, too.

Epilogue, posted 7/26/23.

final a/n: i have a follow-up drabble planned for these two! stay tuned 🥰

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[covid-safer-hotties]

Global Emergency Compounded by the AIDS-like Features of SARS-CoV-2 Infection - Published Sept 1, 2024

Over a million people in the US are being infected with severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus type 2 (SARS-CoV-2) every day.

Originally named after the acute respiratory syndrome it can cause as a consequence of blood vessel damage in the lungs, SARS-CoV-2 is actually primarily a blood vessel virus that spreads through the airways. It causes a complex multisystem disease (1). It is airborne (2). It can persist in the body, and is detectable in body and brain tissue even at autopsy of “recovered” patients (3).

Each infection ages the body, causes damage to the blood vessels and the immune system, and affects organs including the heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, bones, etc. (4, 5, 6)

Each infection ages the brain. Specifically, it reduces gray matter and cognitive ability (7), and potentially IQ score (8). It increases the risk of psychiatric disorders (9). SARS-CoV-2 has also been identified as contributing to accelerated dementia (10).

The potential post-acute phase impacts of SARS-CoV-2 include long COVID, some manifestations of which are chronic conditions that can last a lifetime, including heart disease, diabetes, myalgic encephalomyelitis and dysautonomia (11).

The Economist has estimated excess deaths from the beginning of the Pandemic through May 2024 at up to 35 million people worldwide. (12)

In Addition, Many Scientists Are Now Issuing Warnings… SARS-CoV-2 triggers a new airborne form of Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome (13, 14, 15) (some are proposing specific terms such as “CoV-AIDS”).

This is not AIDS as we know it from human immunodeficiency virus (HIV) infection, it is a new type of acquired immunodeficiency syndrome with different deleterious effects on immune function (16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21), but both resulting in increased vulnerability to infections (22). Immune system deficiency and other COVID properties also suggest a potential link to greater risk of cancers (23, 24, 25, 26, 27).

The “original” AIDS caused by HIV takes up to around 10 to 15 years to make its presence felt, with the initial infection usually barely noticed and often resembling the common cold or a flu-like disease until its damage manifests itself leading to death in the absence of treatments (28, 29).

With SARS-CoV-2, immunodeficiency develops in the weeks and months following infection. It involves reduction and functional exhaustion of T Cells (30), enhanced inhibition of MHC-I expression (31), downregulating CD19 expression in B cells (32) and other evidence of immune dysregulation (33, 34). In one study, the dysregulation persisted for 8 months following initial mild-to-moderate SARS-CoV-2 infection, the length of the study (35). There is no “cure” for any of the damage caused by SARS-CoV-2 including immune dysregulation.

Did You Know? Repeated infections are leading to prolonged immune dysregulation, and increase the risk of progressive disability and death.

Long COVID is a multisystem disease with debilitating symptoms, which has had a profound impact on society and the global economy. In the USA, economists have estimated that long COVID will incur cumulative future costs of more than US$4 trillion (36, 37).

The worldwide devastating economic consequences of this mass disabling event have been measured in terms of total work hours and GDP lost around the world (38).

It theoretically only takes a single viral particle to initiate an infection, and most infections are initiated by very few viral particles (39).

Despite current popular belief, the immune system is NOT a muscle, and does NOT benefit from being repeatedly challenged with disease-causing microbes. In fact, its finite resources are depleted with each new infection.

Herd immunity is unattainable for a rapidly mutating, immune-disrupting virus, and there is no basis to believe that a vascular infection will evolve into the common cold. Continuing to ignore SARS-CoV-2 will not make it go away. Depriving the virus of publicity does not deprive it of its continuing lethal effects.

SARS-CoV-2 is continuing to evolve and mutate – it is not running out of evolutionary space. It is not a cold or the flu, but primarily a blood vessel disease. It is damaging society as we know it.

How many repeated infections can we expect young people to endure and survive? Even if they get only 1 infection each year, that’s 10 infections in 10 school years. This is not compatible with health and a long life. Repeated infections can lead to long COVID and shortened lifespans.

How Do We Protect Ourselves, How Do We Protect Our Children, When Government Public Health Advice Has Failed?

By reducing transmission so that R0 remains less than one (meaning that each person infects less than one other), we can suppress and gradually eliminate the virus, targeting a safer return to pre-2020 normal.

Handwashing is helpful, but it is not the main way to stop the spread of this airborne virus.

Respirators can block 95% or more of virus particles through electrostatic action, and are therefore highly effective at reducing infection even if only one person in a conversation is wearing them. They are far more effective if all people are wearing them (40).

Transmission can be reduced with HEPA filtration and ventilation of indoor air.

The virus spreads more quickly in indoor settings, but also spreads outdoors.

For medical facilities, it is essential to clean the air with ventilation and filtration and require universal high-quality masking (with N-95/ FFP3 respirators or better) to protect medical staff and patients.

For workplaces, clean air will reduce transmission; and encouraging employees to test and stay home when infectious is essential. High-quality masking should be encouraged in the case of symptoms, a sick person at home, or any other suspicion that one could be carrying the virus. Remote work should be normalized and encouraged wherever possible.

For entertainment venues, events should be held outdoors when possible; and if indoors, clean air is key to protecting audiences. Audiences should also be encouraged to wear respirators to avoid getting infected and infecting others. Digital streaming options should always be offered.

For restaurants, an emphasis on outdoor dining will substantially reduce transmission. Patio service should be encouraged, and indoor dining areas should be well-ventilated with a high level of air-exchanges. Home or curbside delivery offers a safer alternative.

For schools, clean air will reduce transmission; encouraging students to test and stay home when infectious is essential to preserving their health. Masking or remote learning should be initiated whenever a case is detected or the incidence in the general population sharply increases. A permanent hybrid model / digital option can accommodate children with disabilities or those who simply do better learning from home.

Teachers and medical professionals may prefer to use transparent masks, or to wear HEPA-filtered headgear equipment that may be more universally tolerated/accepted.

To track our progress, we need sustained wastewater and population-level testing.

With just 60-70 percent of people taking mitigation measures such as masking, testing and isolating when infected, we can dramatically reduce forward transmission of the virus.

Even with very imperfect measures, as long as one infected person does not infect more than one person on average, the virus will eventually die out. The fewer people each person infects on average, the faster it will happen.

We still have a window of opportunity. Protecting ourselves and our families is in fact protecting the economy and the continued orderly functioning of our society.

[maaikeatthefullmoon]

This week I have mostly been reading...

May 13-19th, 2024

New idea I've had, and hopefully something I'll have time to do once a week on a Sunday. Over the past seven days, I have devoured the following Good Omens fanfics, and I recommend these most heartily to you:

Completed works I've read this week:

Boyfriend Debut by snae_b Rated E - A & C are both porn actors. It sounds seedy. It's not. Holy Hell, it's not. It's one of the hottest things I've ever read, but also so, so sweet and delightful.

They Drink Tea At The End by @knifeforkspooncup Rated T - After a year spent in Heaven, A returns to C in the bookshop completely and utterly overstimulated in every sensory capacity. A wonderful, sweet story of them truly knowing each other and an excellent example of how the fandom relates to GO in so many beautiful ways.

Pay Per View by IneffableToreshi Rated E - A lovely story set in Canada, full of our so frequently seen miscommunication between A & C. And, as the author says: "Also, why the fuck is Aziraphale watching porn in their hotel room?! And taking notes?!"

Cranking Up The Heat by @vavoom-sorted-art Rated E - Well, the title says it all, really. And the fic's description: "The equivalent of that hot wings challenge, but with porn." Don't really want to say much more, as you've gotta see it to enjoy it.

On The Same Page by Chekhov Rated E - A fake marriage fic with Only One Bed. A & C are both authors, but two very different ones. Excellently written with very vividly described mental struggles with internal homophobia & self loathing.

A Model Guardian by Fuuma_san Rated E - As a former model, I found this fic really interesting. I'd genuinely love to know what the author's tie/experience in the industry is. C is a model, A is their bodyguard. An interesting tale which involves some great discussion on gender.

In The Room Where You Sleep by @mrghostrat Rated E - Another banger by ghostrat, posted in its entirety this week. In a reversal to many other fics I've seen, A is a vampire and C is a vampire hunter. *Homer Simpson voice* With sexy results. ;)

WIPs which have updated this week (which I devour as soon as I get the update!)

There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out by @phoen1xr0se Rated M - A is a researcher (puffins!), C is a lighthouse keeper on the island where A has run away to to escape his problems and do his research. The author has recently spent a week studying puffins - which is the ultimate dedication, if you ask me. Ch 9/26 posted this week

Find The Light by @klikandtuna Rated E - Headmaster A and Rockstar C. The story teases out a fraught history between them whilst keeping a tension between them in the modern day. Ch 4/? posted this week.

Terminus by @emotional-support-demon-crowley Rated T - Astronaut A is guided back to Earth by controller C after 92 years in space. There are many difficulties both of them have to face and they develop an amazing rapport. Ch 15/17 posted this week.

Oddity by @tsyvia48 Rated E - Actor C is contracted by (useless) Gabriel to guest curate an exhibition at the museum where A works. After getting off on the wrong foot, can they work together to pull off this show? Ch 22/24 posted this week.

Under The Summer Stars by @pannotbread Rated E - This wonderful fic has taught me more about physics than school ever did (mostly because I never did any physics, but...well). A & C have to share their time at an observatory because there is Only One Telescope. Not only will you learn about astrophysics, astrobiology, and astroecology, you'll also read some of the most poetically, beautifully written masturbation scenes I've ever seen. *ahem* Ch 6/13 posted this week.

Free by well, me: imposterssyndrome Rated E - A & C meet (again?) in an acute mental health ward after both having had mental health crises. A runs a bookshop but is very much under his parents' control. C has been homeless since childhood and has struggled his entire life. They do not trust each other when they first meet, but feel strangely drawn to one another all the same. Where will this lead them? This is a passion piece for me. There is a lot of lived experience in it, and extensive research from both professionals and peers. It has been a real journey for me to write it, and as I'm coming closer to the end it's becoming very emotional for me. Ch 43/? posted this week

[kakiastro]

The Numerology and Astrology of 1997

Numerology is my 2nd favorite thing to study besides Astrology. They go hand in hand in my mind. They’re interconnected with each other. You’ll see when I break it down for y’all in this post.

I specifically chose this year because well, I realized 1997 and 2024 are both 8 years. Let me break it down…

Add up the numbers

1 + 9 + 9 + 7 = 26

2 + 6 = 8

2 + 0 + 2 + 4 = 8

So if you were born in 1997, then you was born during an 8 year. 2024 is an 8 year as well. So this year is like a rebirth of some sorts or a karmic cleansing.

Keep in mind. This is different from life path numbers because you add your birth month, day and year. It’s a lot lol but we’re only focusing on your birth year only

8

-ruled by Saturn and Capricorn in numerology. These born natives may have had a tough or not easy upbringing. They may have had to grow up or learn some harsher lessons early in life than most. They were born during a karmic year so if you’re the type who believes in reincarnation, then you can say these native “have been here before” could be an ancestor that’s come back, I think a lot of kids born this year are “old souls” as well.

-these natives life lesson needs to learn how to balance the spiritual world with the material world. They have a strong belief in a higher power(s) and believe that no matter what challenges they go through, they will succeed and flourish. These natives are the hard knocks kids. These are the first group of Gen-Z but they relate more to their older Millennials siblings. They remember what the world was like right before we entered into today’s digital world. They remember blockbuster and flip phones, hell, most of them probably had one themselves as preteens before smart phones took off😅

-another lesson these natives need to learn is to help out when they can. It doesn’t always have to be financially either, helping someone with bags of groceries, complimenting someone (helps their self worth), donating old clothes or money to a charity, giving out advice or encouraging words to people are also good. Do this out of the kindness of your soul and heart, not because you expect a reward. I will tell you this, 8 is a loop so what you put out will come back around one way or another. I know that cliche but that’s the energy 8 has. 8 is connected to the spirit realm and earthly remember that.

-ambitious and powerful individuals. They enter a room and you notice them immediately. If these natives do succeed materially, just know, it was through hard work, sweat, blood and tears literally and figuratively lol

- August is the 8th month of the year. This is one of the Summer months. August is late Leo and Early Virgo seasons. These natives exhibit warm energy which means theyre kind, and have a welcoming personality. They may be popular in their friend group or just well liked by people. They may constantly go through health issues in their life but these people are warriors, they can get through some tough situations. August is a late summer month, these people are considered late bloomers (not a bad thing!) and since they’re a Capricorn group, their life can become more lighter and easy going as they get older. They work hard in their early years to relax in there older years. Usually after their First Saturn Return and around 35 is when life can start to improve.

Astrology

-since this is a Saturn ruled year group, we need to look at what sign Saturn was in, in 1997.

-Saturn was in Aries during this year. Which means this group has Martian energy. They are warriors like I said earlier. Harsh upbringings but they push through. I wonder how many people born this year had to have surgery or suffered any burns growing up. Scars may be heavily present in these individuals during this year.

-identity and finding who they are outside off what they were taught to be will be a theme for them. They may struggle with self confidence during younger years but they find it as they age. I know I talk about age a lot but it is significant for this group since Saturn rules Age and time.

-since Saturn is in Aries, these folks 1h and Mars are the most important.

In 1997, Mars was in Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius and Capricorn.

-Mars Libra natives will learn the lesson how to balance the most. Working with others and being diplomatic will be lessons on what to learn. Marriage and partnerships. Family such as their grandmothers will important to these natives. They need to learn the balance when to pick up their sword and when they need to lay it down to negotiate. Aries oppose Libra. There’s always going to be a push-pull with these natives. I can’t stress enough, find that balance.

-Mars Scorpio natives will learn the lesson of vulnerability and intimacy. Aries is an independent and solo sign but Scorpio is how we connect on a deeper level with each other. Sex may be something they struggle with and will need to learn understand beyond societal conditions on it. Financials and paying off debt.

-Mars Sagittarius natives will learn the lesson of philosophy and beliefs. You may be the type to fight for them and don’t like to be challenged on them. Now you will need to learn others beliefs and this doesn’t mean you have to agree with them but it’s best to get well rounded on different viewpoints for your spiritual benefit.

-Mars Capricorn natives will be the main ones learning about hard work and ambition. I feel like this group may have it the hardest because you got that double Saturn energy in you that you have to learn. People may not respect you or you don’t get the recognition you feel you deserve. I promise once you learn theses old cycles, it will get better. Aries Sq Capricorn as well so this is not an easy but necessary lesson. Y’all got this!

8 is also ruled by Pluto. So this group will always be going through extreme transformation, this doesn’t always have to be a bad thing either. Their Pluto is in Sagittarius so their beliefs and world view will go through different phases. They have deep thirst for knowledge and truth. 8 is also co ruled by Mars so there’s that warrior energy again lol

These Natives are turning 27 this year!

2 + 7 = 9

9 represents endings and cycles. 9 is also ruled by Mars and in astrology is ruled by Jupiter.

Saturn is currently in Pisces. Pisces also rules over endings since it’s the last sign of the zodiac. They are also going through their pre-Saturn Return shadow period.

The Current NN Aries is conj their Saturn and numerology planet ruler. A small few is going through their Reverse Nodal return as well

This is also their 4h profection year. The 4h isn’t just about family, it’s connected to your soul and soul family.

-these natives are going to feel like they’re going through Deja vu while also going through new experiences. There’s a level of uncertainty thats filled with hope. My advice is to just go with the flow and take each day at a time. You guys are wrapping up 8 year another cycle. They are discovering who they are under in depth. They are exploring there faith and ideals and what feels right to them.

-This current cycle lasted from 2016-2024. Think back on those years, while still learning this one.

-This cycle will be from 2024-2033. 2033 is the next 8 year

Fun facts

When you all were born, Titanic, Jurassic Park, Men in Black were the biggest movies of that year!

The first Harry Potter was also released that year. It’s funny that there’s a tv show in the making during its return😅

[anime-academia]

It is somehow already November??! and I promised myself that in Nov I'd get back into language learning consistently again (since work - tutoring for uni - is done and I'll have time). I also promised myself that I would start learning Thai (because Jeff Satur and the Thai alphabet are both beautiful and amazing).

I won't have time for a lot of intense learning, since I am still working on my dissertation and it is my priority, so I've decided to kinda combine two langblr challenges I've seen! First is @/langvillage 's one sentence club and second, so I don't have to expend energy thinking of what to write, is @/spraakhexe2 's 30 day language challenge.

I have changed some of spraakhexe2's prompts because I don't think I have the ability or time for the more complicated ones lol, and my goal really is to just write one sentence every day.

The prompts are under the cut.

This is mostly just to keep myself accountable lmao, but anyone is free to do it as well lol (if you do, and esp if you're handwriting please tag me or smth, I'd love to see it!)

[1] Introduce yourself

[2] What is your favourite animal?

[3] What is your favourite song?

[4] What is your favourite movie?

[5] What is your favourite season (and why)?

[6] What is your favourite food?

[7] Describe your room

[8] What is your job/What are you studying/What language are you learning?

[9] Describe your morning or night routine

[10] What is your favourite colour (and what objects are that colour)?

[11] What is something that annoys you?

[12] What is your dream house like/what is something that has to be in your dream house?

[13] Write a grocery list

[14] Do you dream often? (Describe a dream)

[15] Describe a vacation (either one you have been on or would like to go on)

[16] What country/countries would you like to visit?

[17] What would you do with $1 000 000?

[18] What joke/idiom/phrase from your TL do you like?

[19] Is there a poem in your TL that you like/know?

[20] What superpower would you like to have (and why)?

[21] What is your favourite time of day?

[22] What is something you (have to) do daily?

[23] What is something you are scared of?

[24] What do you do to relax?

[25] Describe something you love

[26] Something you would tell your past self, or would like your future self to remember

[27] Favourite folktale/urban legend

[28] Favourite app

[29] What is your favourite book?

[30] Write a short paragraph - it can be a full intro in your TL, a little story, anything you want!

[alfalfaaarya]

7 Aug 2024 // Wednesday

Day 2 of 26 day study challenge 👒

Was super sleepy today cause of lack of sleep last night due to the psm ppts .

Attended all my lectures and clinics.

Came home and

watched a study video

Studied atherosclerosis

Completed micro writeup +diagrams

After watching the study video I took a nap , felt refreshed ! Then had dinner and got back to studying.

It feels great to be productive.

Currently I'm studying patho CVS. I need to complete it soon , hopefully should be done with it by Friday and then I can start a new topic in Systemic pathology.

[jtargaryen18]

His Inheritance: Chapter 26

Part 26: Duplicity

Series Masterlist

Words: 4.3k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to illegal prescription drug use, firearm use, and deception. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 26

Dark dreams pulled Steve from sleep. It was 3:37 AM according to his phone.

With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed, propping his pillow behind his wife’s back in his place. She was sound asleep and that had him smiling. The night before in the bath had been delicious. He had her again later in bed.

She’d need to sleep in after that.

So much raw emotion welled up in his chest as he watched her. His wife took up a lot of room when she slept, sprawling over the bed at night. Over him. He loved it, especially now that she mostly slept nude as he did. She was beautiful, her radiance and confidence growing by the day.

As he got dressed, he kept stealing glances at her. She’d brought a hell of a lot more than just status into his life. His wife challenged him. She challenged everyone. As delicate as she appeared now, asleep in his bed, she was formidable as a lioness, especially when defending those she cared about.

Steve couldn’t wait to have children with her. How fierce would their sons be? Hell, his daughters would be fierce too. He hoped they looked like her.

Making his way downstairs, thoughts of the family he wanted faded like dreams as he reached his study, returning to reality. Wincing in the light when he flicked it on, he saw the office was just as neat and sterile as it had ever been. Steve always had strict rules about who was allowed in his study, just like his father had.

Those rules didn’t apply to his wife, he realized, who came and went from his center of business as she damn well pleased.

Those memories he loved. Holding her in his chair, spanking her over the desk. Twice. That last one had to led to him just taking her like a beast on that refined wooden surface. It had him stirring just thinking about it. Steve wanted more memories like that. He wanted more.

What would it be like seeing toys littering the floor one day? Or to have little drawings left for him on his desk?

With a deep sigh, he sank heavily into his chair.

Ever since his wife had entered his life, she’d blurred the lines between his personal life and business. Steve walked a fine line between frustration and ecstasy the entire time with her, his need for her so often consuming his thoughts.

In the meantime, everything he thought he had control of was unraveling.

Barnes was coming for him, swiftly and methodically, and he needed to deal with that before he lost respect and credibility in that dark world. The fact that his rival was getting away with hitting his turf made Steve look weak, incompetent. Barnes striking his home, his family’s home, demanded a harsh answer. His leadership of the families would be defined by the decision he made here.

But Steve also needed to protect his family. And hadn’t he done a poor job of that lately? His sister had been severely beaten by her husband and before that Clint had been shot. Hansen’s attack on their home left Belova and Dyson both laid up.

His enemies seemed as obsessed with his wife as he was. If Hansen had gotten his hands on her…

Barnes had more than adequately demonstrated that no one was beyond his reach.

That had to change.

Steve had tried to be diplomatic in calling the meeting with the other family leaders. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Why was he trying to win the other families over when at least one of them was gunning for his?

“Up early, boss?” Luca looked in, making Steve realize he didn’t remember to close the door.

Steve nodded.

The portly cook walked just inside the office door. It was the only time of the day he ever saw the man in a pristine white apron.

“Your father used to do the same thing. Couldn’t sleep the night before. He’d just get up and get started. Always admired that about him.”

Steve snorted. “Probably never found himself in a situation this fucked up.”

“Sure he did,” Luca told him. “Someone challenged him, he hit them hard, and he hit them fast. That’s all. No mercy. No regrets.”

Luca made it sound so easy.

“You got a new consigliere yet?” Luca asked.

Steve nodded. “I’m going with Murdock.”

Luca nodded his approval. “Good choice. We’ll see what he’s made of these next few weeks.”

That was an understatement.

“I’m calling a meeting this evening,” Steve told him. “If I remember right Dyson’s going to get medical tests this morning?”

“That’s right,” the cook said. “Him and Belova both. They should be back from the hospital by this afternoon. We sending Scott with them?”

Steve shook his head. “I’ll be here all day. Send Neal.”

Luca nodded, closing the door behind him on the way out of the office.

Steve would spend some time getting his thoughts together. Then, with his crew, they’d decide how best to deal with Barnes.

***

Dyson smiled when she made her way from the exam room back out to the waiting area.

“How did it go?” he asked.

Yelena smiled back. “The CT scan didn’t show any damage. They also did a Brain Trauma Indicator test, but it will be a couple of days before we get the results of that.”

Dyson rose from his chair, and she hoped that meant they were ready to head back to the house. While she took some comfort from the fact that Mrs. Rogers’ husband was there with her – and she had Scott, Luca, and Clint – things were just so tense right now. So dangerous.

She would feel much better once she got back.

Dyson shrugged as they walked out of the office area to head back into the reception area of the hospital. “I’m just old.”

He laughed with her as they found the lobby where there were gift shops, a cafeteria, and an information desk. Neal sat not far from that desk with the paper in his hand. So much for being there to keep her and Dyson safe. He looked like he could really care less.

Neal couldn’t have cared less when Bruce Banner had been about to knock the shit out of her boss. Scott pulled Mrs. Rogers back but that wouldn’t have stopped him. And she was still cursing herself for not hearing the commotion sooner than she did.

Neal noticed the two of them a beat before they reached him. Dyson cleared his throat loudly, telling Yelena he was as unhappy with the soldier as she was.

“Ready to go?” Neal sounded bored.

“Yeah,” Dyson grumbled. “Go get the car, will ya?”

Yelena was hard put not to laugh as Neal glared at him, folding up the paper. His knuckles were white as he gripped that paper and marched toward the exit to do as he was told.

Just as he was walking out the electric doors at the hospital’s entrance, a familiar figure in teal-colored scrubs was walking in. Agnes spotted Yelena in an instant, smiling brightly.

Her heart nearly stopped in her chest.

Of course Neal recognized her, slowing down and glancing over his shoulder to get a good look. He would remember she came to the Rogers’ home. He’d already mentioned thinking she looked familiar. It wouldn’t be hard for him to put the pieces together and figure out why she really came that day.

It was the worst timing imaginable.

Dyson didn’t know either, so she had to fake a smile when Agnes walked up. It wasn’t her fault, and Yelena talked to her for moment. Her ID badge announcing her position as an RN was right there in plain sight.

“Let me know when the lady of the house needs another manicure,” Agnes said, a big wink and then she headed off to work.

Beyond the glass entrance, she could see Neal pulled up to the door in the car. She felt Dyson’s attention on her. She took a step but his hand on his shoulder stayed her.

“That’s the lady you brought to the house to do Mrs. Rogers manicure?” he asked.

Yelena nodded. “She does it as a side hustle,” she tried.

“She’s an RN according to her badge,” Dyson pointed out.

She shrugged, turning to meet his gaze. “So? She does a good job. Mrs. Rogers was happy with how her nails turned out.”

Yelena tried to continue walking. This time Dyson jerked her to a halt.

“Please tell me you didn’t do what I think you did,” he said, dead serious.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Yelena played dumb. She wasn’t counting on it to work but she had to try.

“Yes, you do.” Dyson blew out an exhale.

Yelena shook her head. “Mrs. Rogers is perfectly healthy. What other reason would I have to bring Agnes to the house?”

“To make it so Mrs. Rogers don’t get pregnant,” Dyson said, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Oh, my God. Do you know how bad this is?”

Yelena didn’t deny it. But she didn’t drop her gaze. The deed was done now. What did he expect her to say?

“Did she put you up to this?” he asked.

Now her heart slammed on her chest. If she said yes and this went as badly as she suspected it was about to, Yelena would have betrayed Mrs. Rogers. And she couldn’t live with that.

But if she said it was her own idea, and it most definitely was, she jeopardized her own position. And Lloyd was still out there. And Dyson knew it.

“Fuck,” Dyson muttered a little too loudly. “You know Neal recognized your nurse friend, right?”

She wasn’t stupid.

“The trick here is to keep him from telling the boss what he thinks happened here,” Dyson explained. “And he’ll think exactly what I think.”

Now Yelena was seeing red. “I know he’d like nothing better than getting Mrs. Rogers in trouble with her husband.”

She could tell Dyson didn’t expect her to say that, but it was the truth.

“When Banner showed up at the house, the only one protecting her from him was Lang,” she insisted. “I was down there as soon as I heard the commotion. Neal? He would have let Banner have her.”

Now the older man looked appalled. “Why the fuck would he do that?”

“Because he doesn’t like Mrs. Rogers,” Yelena said. “And he doesn’t appear to have her best interests at heart. That puts her in danger because the boss trusts him implicitly.”

“Neal’s earned that,” Dyson replied.

“So much so that the boss should choose him over his own wife?”

Dyson shook his head. “Come on.” He motioned towards the car with Neal watching them from the driver’s seat. “I got to try and get to the boss before Neal does or there will be absolute hell to pay.”

She was all too afraid he was right.

“He’s going to ask if there was a problem,” Dyson instructed her. “When he does, you act pissy. I’ll tell him you didn’t get one of the tests I wanted you to. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sending up every prayer she knew, Yelena followed him out to the car.

***

You made it back to your room, still winded because you’d practiced for nearly two hours today. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you removed your pointe shoes, the band-aids and tape beneath. You winced at the fresh blister forming on the outside of the smallest toe on your left foot.

What you’d planned to wear the rest of the day was already laid out on your bed, you just needed undergarments and socks and you’d be ready to shower. You smiled when you opened the drawer where you kept your intimates to see the satin red thong there that went with the teddy you bought in New York for Valentine’s Day last week.

Well, Steve bought it for you after surprising you in the city when you thought you’d catch holy hell for being out of the house.

What a night that had been. Your heart still fluttered to think about it.

The hum of your phone on your bedside table got your attention. Maybe it was Yelena. You hoped her and Dyson’s medical tests went well.

The text was from Yelena, but it stopped you in your tracks.

I'm so sorry.

You stared at the text message from Yelena on your phone, wondering what the hell that meant. Your heart was sped up as you typed a reply asking if she and Dyson were okay.

You heard voices beyond your window. Peering out, you saw the black Jeep had pulled up, watched your husband climb out and march towards the front door. You hadn’t realized he left the house, but he sure seemed on a mission to return to it.

We are fine. I’m worried about you.

What?

Her next text came a beat later.

Neal figured out who Agnes is.

You froze in place. Holy shit. If Neal knew who Agnes really was, he had an idea of why she came to your house. And if he didn’t figure it out, Steve would.

Telling Steve would be the first thing Neal would do with that information.

Steve’s tread was loud on the stairs, pounding in time with your heart. Steve was coming and you had nowhere to go, no time to prepare.

The door of your shared bedroom flew open, and Steve slammed it behind him, his face flushed from the cold, from anger. His blue-eyed gaze found you fast, and there you stood in leotard, leggings, and bare feet. You were sweaty, tired, with your hair pulled back from your face.

As much of a sweaty mess as you were, your husband looked as well-groomed as always. He peeled off the leather jacket he wore and tossed it over the chair at your vanity. The deep wine of the sweater he wore with jeans emphasized the angry color seeping out of his collar.

Dropping your phone on the edge of your bed, you folded your arms across your chest, bracing yourself for the storm that was coming.

Steve took in your stance. A muscle at his jaw flexed.

“We need to talk,” he said with a tight voice.

You just nodded. What else could you do?

You calm demeanor only seemed to piss him off more.

“Tell me about your manicure a few weeks ago,” Steve demanded, moving closer to the bed.

You held your ground. You didn’t like the way he was trying to set you up.

“I already did,” you said. “You said you liked my nails. Remember?”

His scowl deepened. “What was the woman’s name?”

“Agnes.”

“And was this manicure your idea?” Bitterness crept into his tone.

It was hard to hold your tongue. That question put you on the spot. If you said no, and you were pretty sure you told him Yelena arranged it to lift your spirits, he would get rid of her. And you needed her. As your friend and as a protector.

That meant you had to take the blame. And you weren’t sure you were ready for the consequences of that…

“It was,” you said finally. It wasn’t entirely true, but it was the course you chose.

Steve paused, surprised at your admission. His throat worked as he swallowed hard, just staring at you.

“She did more than your nails.” Steve shook his head. “The injection is good for three months, right?”

Wait. Agnes said that there would be no medical record of the injection. Had she lied to you? Or did he…?

“How do you know it was an injection?” you had to ask.

“Neal paid Agnes a visit at the hospital today.”

Steve knew everything.

“What did Neal do?” You were seeing red now. “Agnes isn’t in this. If he hurt her...”

“Neal warned her,” Steve told you.

Neal was intimidating. The poor woman just came to do you a favor.

“Neal is good at subduing women,” you told him. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning he wasn’t so quick to protect me when Banner stormed in this house,” you said. “Scott pulled me away. Yelena saved me.”

“Don’t try to shift the blame for this to Neal,” Steve said. “Neal has proven his loyalty to me.”

“I’m not one of your men,” you shot back. “I’m your wife.”

“And a wife’s duty is to give her husband a family. To take care of that family.” New emotion entered his voice. He wasn’t just angry. “Why? Why would you go behind my back and do this?”

You shook your head, frustration welling up in you fast. Was he serious?

When you didn’t say anything, he charged forward, grabbing your chin in his large hand. His grip hurt as he pulled you to him by your face.

“You know what I want,” he said angrily, his face inches from yours. “Every time I’ve made love to you, I was hoping that was it. That was the one. And it would only be a few weeks after that when you’d be waiting here for me for a different reason. To tell me I was going to be a father.”

When he shoved you away from him hard, you stumbled back. The bed was right behind you, and you tumbled onto the edge of it.

“But here we are,” he growled.

Your own temper flared at that. You were going to be punished for this. You knew that. You weren’t going meekly. You weren’t just handing him a victory like he’d been handed everything else in his goddamn life.

“Here we are,” you said. “And once again, it’s all about what you want. About what you expect.”

“Enough!” he yelled. “This is the part where you remind me that you had no choices. I know. Your father hid you away and then I forced you to marry me. And I’m sorry, I truly am, that he didn’t even try to be a father to you.”

The venom in his voice told you he wasn’t trying to make you feel better. Steve’s fury was palpable, you could feel it coming off him in waves.

“Want to know what I regret?” Steve asked. “I regret that he didn’t try to prepare you for the world. He should have taught you your place.”

You would have agreed with him if you hadn’t been so angry yourself.

“No, he did just what he was supposed to, according to you. He didn’t spend time with my mother, or my brother and I from what I hear. She tried to get us out of your world.”

“She found a lover.” Steve moved closer. “If she hadn’t done that, maybe she and your brother would still be alive.”

Jumping off the end of the bed, you marched forward and slapped him across the face with all your strength. It was satisfying to see his head turn with your blow, but he was quick to recover.

“I wasn’t prepared,” you told him angrily. “I haven’t been married before. I never had a lover before. You’ve had many. You’ve had time to enjoy life and learn what you like, what you want. You’re at a place in life where you want to start a family. I haven’t had that time or experience. What? I was just supposed to spread my legs and pop out babies because that’s what you wanted?”

“You didn’t have a lot of experiences in your life,” Steve pointed out. “I considered it an advantage.”

You snorted. “I’m sure you did.”

“Somehow all of this lack of experiences wasn’t a problem until you married me,” he said.

“Is that what you thought?” you asked. “I’d go from being his hidden little girl to your dutiful wife? That just makes you naïve.”

Scrubbing a hand over his beard, Steve stared you down. “You might have a point there. I was naïve in just letting you run free in this marriage. Letting you do what you wanted.”

“I’ve asked for so much,” you shot back, sarcasm bleeding into your tone.

“I gave you the bodyguard you wanted,” Steve snapped. “I had to find out she was training you with weapons when Hansen attacked my home. You hid that from me. I allowed it. Now I find out you hid your little contraceptive shot from me. I can’t trust you. What else have you hidden or lied to me about?”

Steve was right. You had hidden things from him.

“What is your problem with starting a family?” he wanted to know. His gaze swept over you. “What else are you going to do? You’re fit. You could probably have children and get right back in shape after.”

“So I’m vain?” you asked.

“Are you?” Steve asked. “You’ll have the best doctors, the best care. You can hire personal trainers if you're worried about your figure. We can hire people to help you with them once they're born. Nannies, tutors. Whatever you want.”

Now you were staring him down. “Don’t you know how that sounds? You want us to be parents and you’re already planning on how to let other people raise them.”

“Excuse me?” That pissed him off.

“I had all of that,” you said. “Nannies, tutors, governesses. What I didn’t have was a good relationship with my father. I didn’t have a mother or a sibling because of your world. I’m not saying I don’t want children one day. But I’d like to reach the point you have where I’ve lived a life and I’m ready for that.”

“Did you ever think of trying to tell me that? I thought we were finally on the same page. That we wanted the same things. You let me believe that,” he said bitterly.

“Would you have listened?” you asked. “And maybe I did let you believe that I could pregnant. But I was afraid. How could I enjoy sex when each time I was worried that would be the one? And I’d be pushed into something I wasn’t ready for. Responsible for a child.”

The hurt showing on his face surprised you. “You enjoyed sex with me because you knew you weren’t going to get pregnant?”

Your heart lurched. You felt like so much was riding on your answer, and you were angry.

But it was truth, damn it. Hiding things was how you got here.

“Yes,” you said slowly. “I would hope you’d understand why. I wasn’t even familiar with sex. I just wanted time.”

“You just wanted to take control away from me.” Steve’s glare made you pause.

“I thought you wanted me to trust you? You said you hoped one day this marriage would be something I needed too.”

“I thought you loved me,” he said with a finality that had fear spiking in you.

Faster than you could blink, Steve snatched your phone off the bed and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans. The speed of his movements had you flinching. He noticed.

“What are you doing?” you asked, sounding way less confident now.

“Taking control of my household,” he said coldly. “Just like I’m getting ready to take care of business with the families. What do you think I’m doing?”

You swallowed hard. Steve’s gaze on you was assessing. He could read you so easily.

“Thought I’d spank you?” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I think you’d enjoy that.”

Humiliation had your face heating up, remember the last one that you’d provoked.

“I should have done this from the beginning.”

“What do you mean?” you had to ask.

Steve moved back, putting a distance between you.

“Your injection is good for another four weeks,” he said. “We’ll resume our marriage then.”

What?

“Resume our marriage?” Your voice pitched higher than you would have like. But he caught you off guard. “What does that mean?”

“That means when that shot has reached the end of its efficacy, I’ll be back. Until then, you’ll stay in this room. My men will bring you meals and anything you need for toiletries and supplies. But that’s it.”

Oh, this wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.

“Your men?” You had to be careful now. “What about Yelena?”

“She’s done,” Steve said curtly. “She’s worked her last day in this house. She just makes you worse.”

Tears stung the backs of your eyes. It was exactly what you feared.

“You can watch television but I have your phone,” Steve continued. “And your laptop is downstairs.”

And he was cutting you off from the rest of the world, from any support. Tears streamed from your eyes. Some from regret, most from anger. You blinked them back as you considered the weeks ahead.

And what you’d done to Yelena. What if losing this job put her in danger? What if Hansen got to her?

“When I come back, we will get to work on starting a family,” he informed you. “Just maybe you’ll be more grateful by then.”

“Or I’ll hate you.”

Steve shook his head, marching for the door of the bedroom you’d been sharing. “I’ll find another place to sleep in the meantime.”

“I’m sure you will,” you said through your tears. Visions of him with Kat flashed in your mind, threatening to break you.

And with that Steve marched out of the room. You heard the lock turn a beat later.

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[blueiscoool]

A Statue of Atlas Emerges From the Ruins of Sicily’s Ancient Temple of Zeus

In the fifth century B.C.E., 38 looming sculptures of the Titan stood guard at the structure.

After 20 years of restorations, a 26-foot-tall statue of Atlas is once again standing guard at the ancient Temple of Zeus in the city of Agrigento (once called Akragas) in Sicily.

The statue, created in the fifth century B.C.E., was one of roughly 38 similar Atlas monuments built into the temple. They stood in a line between columns with their arms raised, appearing to hold the holy structure upright.

In Greek mythology, Atlas was a Titan who rebelled in a war against Zeus. As punishment, he was forced to hold up the sky on his shoulders. Unlike the mythological Atlas, however, the stone likenesses were unable to hold up Zeus’ temple forever. Ultimately, earthquakes and other events caused the structure to crumble.

For many years, pieces of the statues were scattered around the site amongst other ancient ruins. In 1812, Charles Robert Cockerell, a prominent British architect, first identified one of the Titan’s giant sandstone heads during a visit to Agrigento. A century later, in 1920, archaeologist Pirro Marconi became the first person to attempt to reconstruct one of the Atlases, which is now housed in the Archaeological Museum of Agrigento.

The seeds of the current project began in 2004, when the Valley of the Temples park conducted a sweeping research campaign at the site. Experts cataloged 90 fragments from at least eight Atlas statues.

“The idea was to reposition one of these Atlases in front of the temple so that it may serve as a guardian of the structure dedicated to the father of the gods,” Roberto Sciarratta, the director of the Valley of the Temples park, tells the Guardian’s Lorenzo Tondo.

But rebuilding Atlas in a standing position was particularly challenging, as researchers couldn’t simply stack the pieces of the statue on top of one another. Instead, they attached the fragments to metal shelves, which are supported by a larger metal structure.

The restoration has faced scrutiny ever since officials first announced it several years ago.

“No archaeologist would endorse the use of ancient sculpture, no matter how fragmentary, to create a modern sculpture, even if the purpose is to highlight the site’s antiquity,” C. Brian Rose, an archaeologist at the University of Pennsylvania, told the New York Times’ Franz Lidz in 2020.

But officials like Renato Schifani, the Sicilian governor, think that the statue’s resurrection is a commendable feat.

“Today is an important day for Agrigento and for all of Sicily,” says Schifani in a statement, per Google Translate. “This stone giant of ancient Akragas, which after many years of studies and research we can observe in its natural position, is the heart of an important museum project of the entire area of ​​the Temple of Zeus."

By Julia Binswanger.

[threecheersforsuccess]

I've been yapping for too many years, so I need a living masterpost of the guides and blogs from my Tumblr and Instagram. I plan to create more long-form content in the upcoming months, and I will re-do some of the prompts listed. I feel some of my old work might be outdated, so please take my wording with a chunk of salt.

I'll update my with my content as I go.

Stuff from 2024

♡ What's in my bag? (2024)

My Motivation Education Video Series (2022-2023)

♡ Part 0: Something Much Needed Among Students: Motivation ♡ Part 1: Bare Bones Definition of Motivation ♡ Part 2: Self-efficacy, I think ♡ Part 3: Where is the control? ♡ Part 4: Reward or Autopilot ♡ Part 5: Determination to Continue ♡ Part 6: Personal Interest ♡ Part 7: Outside The Model ♡ Part 8: Where is the willpower? ♡ Part 9: Is stress even a bad thing? Note: I stopped because I did not like the short video format. I'm not sure if I may pick this up again, but I do think the lessons I learned from my readings are pretty neat :)

5am.Raining's Studying Challenge (2022)

Note: A challenge led by my cool mutual 5am.raining on Instagram. I slowly figure out how to make videos. It's a little wonky at the beginning, but I find my style! I made these posts in 2022 ♡ Poorly Filmed Day in My Life! ♡ My Studying Role Model... Haruhi from Ouran... ♡ Fave Leader in My Field: Carol Dweck ♡ What gets me in the mood to study? ♡ What I want to do with my degree... ♡ My Fave Reading Assignment ♡ Study Tunes ♡ How to get back into reading books ♡ Favorite study supplies ♡ Planning Routine (2022 version) ♡ Organizing My Desk ♡ What's in my backpack? ♡ Inspiring Film or Doc on My Field ♡ Imposter Syndrome ♡ "Study Buddy" ♡ Coping with Long Study Sessions

Flipd Productivity and Motivation Challenge Blogs

Note: I yapped so hard I won the productivity challenge. I wrote these around junior year of college (2021). ♡ Long-Term Destination, Short-Term Motivation: Living in The Moment ♡ Embedding Self-forgiveness in Your Self-Care ♡ Study Essentials ♡ The Importance of Play and Breaks ♡ Quote of Week Analysis: Self-Acceptance ♡ How I Plan My Everyday ♡ The Biggest Time Management Misconception I'm Trying to Get Over ♡ Recognizing Burnout (and Listening to Yourself) ♡ Building an Academic Support System ♡ Ways to Make Yourself Take Breaks ♡ The Challenges of a Positive Mindset ♡ How I Build Habits (based on James Clear's Atomic Habits)

Diana's Studying Challenge (2021)

Note: A challenge lead by my cool mutual dianas.desk on Instagram. I made these posts in 2021. Day 1: Challenge Introduction Day 2: What Gets Me Motivated Day 3: Cleaning My Desk Day 4: Study Tunes/Songs I Listen and Avoid Day 5: Current Books I'm Reading Day 6: Relaxation! Arknights Projekt Red Bullet Journal Spread Day 7: My Happy Place Day 8: Week Reflection Day 9: How I Plan Day 10: My Summer 2021 Work Routine Day 11: My Desk Essentials Day 12: Study Snack (Natto) Day 13: Digital or Paper Notes? Which is Better? Day 14: How I Self-Care Day 15: My School Bag Day 16: Proudest Achievement Day 17: Most Favorite Productivity App/Website Blocker Day 18: Work Buddies Day 19: Inspirational Quotes Day 20: My Favorite Place to Work Day 21: #MessyDesk Day 22: Guilty Pleasure Day 23: My Favorite Study Accounts Day 24: Study Methods I Do Not Like Day 25: Trying out a new place to work? Day 26: Part 2 of My Unconventional Study Tips (same as above) Day 27: My Outfit Day 28: Making a Gratitude List Day 29: My Aspirations Day 30: Today I learned… Day 31: September Goals

My Study Tips

Note: I wrote many of these either in 2020 or very early on (2017-2018). Super old stuff. ♡ Unconventional Study Tips Part 1 + Part 2 ♡ One Effective Memorization Tip ♡ Dealing with Bad Grades: What I Do ♡ How to get 800 on the SAT in Math and Full Points on Grammar ♡ Causes of Procrastination + Methods for Each ♡ How to Study When Unmotivated ♡ Making Your Discord Study Space ♡ Ways to Go to Bed Early ♡ My Super Ultimate Guide to AP Calc AB and BC ♡ Using Your Phone Productively (2018)

Journaling

♡ How I Journal (2017) ♡ How I Use My Notebooks (2018) ♡ How to Keep a Daily Journal (2020) ♡ How to Get into Creative Journaling (2022)

Dividers by @fairytopea