#and!! this shit was so awful that no one finished. in the hour and a half we were there.

[elsa-fogen]

Yep. Yeah. That's me. Almost all of it, except, i sleep well (if i manage to fall asleep) Reblogging because maybe some of you didn't know (i also didn't know)

Story time!

Too long don't read: used to sleep on private math lessons because i hate math; it takes hours for me to fall asleep WHEN I SUPPOSED TO, and my sister does it in 3-5 minutes.

I was studying at university and we had MATH there I've always had problems with it. since 5th grade i think (well, i hated math before too but real problems started there) when i changed schools and the new class was behind what I've already studied and i didn't pay attention, until i realized that at some point I was behind. I said "welp, i guess it's to late to try, so fuck it"

So at university we had this very high level math and i just couldn't understand a thing (and we had an awful teacher who was saying evvvvery time something like "yall getting expelled, we're all gonna die") so i decided "if i don't understand, fuck it then, i will not even try" and started skipping math classes.

But i STILL had to pass an exam, we were getting 3 tries and if you fail you're getting expelled. I failed first two what a surprise (i don't know how i managed to pass it after all, i can't remember SHIT, only that i is fucking non-existing number which is square root of -1. Why on earth would you need it i have NO fucking clue.

So i had personal teachers who tried to make me understand at least something to pass the exam. And there was one i remember very well, i even remember that we paid her 10$ per hour (for us that was quite a lot). And i remember her because i was SLEEPING. I just COULDN'T keep my eyes opened. She explains something about deviding by zero and my brain draws the fucking universe collapsing in front of my eyes. She gives me some task, I'm trying to write something and I'm falling asleep and DREAMING about writing, then ahe wakes me up and i see that i didn't write SHIT. It all ended when in the middle of lesson she just kicked me out.

And, what a miracle, I'm leaving her apartments and suddenly, all the sleepiness just wanishes! I'm walking home, thinking about some another AU of mine, roleplaying it with myself in my head, full of energy again.

That's not the only case of this, but it's the strongest i ever felt. But that like happens all the time, EVEN WHEN MY MOM OR MY GRANNY COMES TO ME AND START TALKING ABOUT SOMETHING I'M NOT INTERESTED, IM YAWNING AND FEEL URGE TO FALL ASLEEP. But the moment they leave, It goes away! I was calling it work allergy LMAO

I was diagnosed with adhd in my early childhood (there was also something about epilepsy, but it's ok now so it doesn't matter), not long ago i brought this fact back into my active memory (thanks to Jaiden animations ADHD video for that xD) i kinda used to myself by now and now I'm trying to catch and analyse all moments of adhd kicking in. I know my own tricks and buttons, how to make myself do the thing or just how to force myself into doing something. Because i know if i start, I'll probably lock in and won't get up until it's done (well, if i have at least a tiny bit of interest in that thing, or else i won't), and i hate it when someone interrupts me in the middle of the process. No mom, i can't come right now, i can't finish it later, because i either spend few more hours forcing myself to go back to the task or just forget about it.

But i didn't know that this sleepiness was a legit symptom! I just thought that it's exaderated boredom, that's it, had a joke name for it. That's... Funny to know that this thing is actually also adhd moment.

Also, about sleeping. I have problems falling asleep. I may lie in the bed for hours without even my phone, just rotating my stories in my head, and when i don't have a story to think about, this is just the name of my current hyperfixation with different tones and in different random dialogues that doesn't even make sense. I have no idea how to fall asleep, except when i didn't sleep for like 48 hours (EVEN THEN IT MIGHT BE A PROBLEM AND I START THINKING OF THAT CREEPY PRION SICKNESS AND SCARE MYSELF AGAIN). And my mom told me that it have always been like that with me. She and my dad had the whole ritual to make me fall asleep. Dad would hold me in his arms, his head with me covered with a blanket that i could only see his face (or else I would look everywhere and never fall asleep), and rock me for HOURS while i was SCREAMING and CRYING the whole time like i was tortured. But when I'd finally fall asleep, they could be as loud as usual and didn't have to whisper, because wake me up is a whole different story. And my mom was SHOCKED when all it took to make my sister fall asleep was just pet her back for 3-5 minutes.

I don't think of myself as... Sick or ill. That's how i was all my life, i don't know anything else. That's not a sickness to me, that's just part of my personality. Maybe sometimes some parts of it bite me in the ass and make my life harder, but i don't know other life. That's the only one I've got, and i guess I'm fine with that (tho now that i think about it, i need to pay more attention to how i write the characters, and don't make them all ADHDshers LOL i need to study neurotypical people under a microscope 🔬🔍)

bro im gonna CRY i didnt know this 🥺

[blackknight-kai]

Wukong and Cat

I just think it would be funny to see Wukong dealing with a house pet. Specially a cat. (Maybe a dog but that’s not the point today) - In this Wukong can travel to the modern day to stay with you (before you fully commit to staying in the past with him Edit: yes taking the cat with you).

See, cats are…cats. Yes they can be skittish or friendly, mean or weird as hell. They come in all shapes and sizes both in body and personality. They consistently push boundaries - keeping them off counters am I right? And sometimes as the slightest change they do awful shit to tell you it displeased them - pissing outside the litter box because you moved it a few feet from where it normally is or got rid of their favorite chair.

Cats are entitled and they run the house. You ever been hounded by a cat that woke up from its nap and thinks it’s dinner time but they don’t eat for another 3 hours? Yeah it’s annoying. (We love them)

They are our mini gods basically.

Wukong would NOT do well with one at first.

It doesn’t listen to him, it gives him dirty looks 24/7, he doesn’t know what the hell it’s up to or thinking but he knows it’s plotting harm to him, he knows it’s mocking him as it watches him form its perch across the room. The damn thing even had you on a feeding schedule!!! It OWNS you!

But it will not own him. No. He is a free monkey. A KING! The Great Sage Equal to Heaven and Earth! No house pet will have dominion over him.

You even buy it toys it seems to play with 1 time before and never again. You spoil the ungrateful shit. It also sleeps with you, but not since he came along much to his pleasure. Yes furry asshole, that’s HIS spot now.

He finds it ridiculous that you even scoop up its fucking shit that it leaves for you. At the very least it covers it up but why are you its designated poop scraper? He doesn’t understand why it doesn’t shit and piss outside like every other animal. He may be a king but he’s never had anyone shovel his shit!

So when you ask him to help with the house chores one day, specifically handling the litter box and trash, he is taken aback. Him? Use the tiny shovel to scrape out its excrement? Oh absolute not. Hell no. Not on your life.

He is a KING. He does NOT shovel SHIT. No. He doesn’t budge until you glare at him. He can tell you’re getting annoyed and he doesn’t like it when you’re mad at him.

Wukong, thinking he’s being a genius summons a clone and decides the clone can handle the shitty sand. But then the clone also refuses. Starts arguing with him! The audacity! This goes on for several minutes, neither clone or original giving in until you come into the room having heard the heated conversation.

You tell him with a tone of finality to stop being a monkey cub and grow up, that if he doesn’t sift the litter by the time you come back he’s sleeping on the couch - one night for every turd and pee clump you find in that box. You stomp off to finish the laundry and Wukong & Clone look at the doorway with slight surprise. Clone snickers and gives Wukong a smirk, saying “Looks like our Queen has spoken, the King is on turd duty.” Before offing himself and disappearing with a cackle as Wukong curses his own cheekiness.

After several minutes of staring at the box with disgust he hears you walking through the house and his heart races. Quickly he grabs the weird little shovel and starts sifting, as you step into the room he smiles at you as if to say “See I’m a good boy” and you give him a look before going back to your own chores.

Wukong doesn’t DARE push you enough to ruin his nightly cuddles with you. No. Nothing is worth losing that. So he scoops the damn cats box and as he does so he hears tiny footsteps. Looking over he sees your cat watching him, as though supervising him. It pisses him off to no end that the house pet is looking at him so smugly. “Who’s the king now.”

Grumbling under his breath Wukong finishes his task and finally stands up straight. As he does so he looks at the furry animal. “Is it clean enough your highness?” He asks sarcastically but then his eyes widen as the cat steps towards the box.

To his utter annoyance and anger it takes a shit! RIGHT AFTER HED JUST CLEANED IT OUT? HOW DARE!!!!

He throws a tantrum he will deny to this day about it to you and you laugh saying that yeah, that happens almost every time. It infuriates him to no end. But he loves you and you love the cat. So he can’t do anything that would bring the little asshole harm or he’d risk losing you which is NOT an option.

He hates the damn thing so much.

But one day, while he’s napping on your couch, he wakes to a weird rumbling on his chest. Groggily he opens his eyes and lifts his head a little and is met with the sight of your cat curled up on his chest, eyes half lidded and watching him, its purring. He lays his head back down and tries to be annoyed by it. But the damn purr is soothing….it’s genuinely kinda nice. And his chest is warm. If he ends up stroking your cats fur making it purr louder until the two of them fall back asleep? That’s between him and cat.

[reallyromealone]

Part 3 to surprise you’re a dad plz 🥺

Title: surpsie you're a dad 3

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Characters: Haitani brothers

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: Rindō x male reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, omegaverse, pregnancy, birth, angst, fluff, good uncle ran

Notes: short chapter low brain energy

Summary: birth and hard conversations

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

"Six weeks?"

"At minimum" the doctor said simply "and he isn't to lift anything heavier than his pup" Rindō and Ran nodded, glancing at a fast asleep (name) who just finished feeding the tiny baby that was (daughters name), said baby was tucked in Rans arms as Rindō was terrified of holding her.

It had been three hours and Rindō could barely look at his child or his mate, he was terrified.

He didn't know what to do in this situation.

He didn't know how to be a dad!

And Ran was somehow a way better parent figure to his kid and he was an uncle!

Ran watched his brother, he could see the things going on in his head and the stress he was under "you know you got this, right?" Ran said honestly, big brother mode activating while looking at his terrified baby brother, seeing the young boy who he always made sure had a meal on his plate. "Look at her" Ran said simply, gazing at the tiny bundle "this kid is a Haitani, she is one of us and as you're dad it's your duty to be better than ours could ever be" his voice serious while he gently put Rindōs daughter in his arms "she's so small..." Rindō choked out, holding her close and sitting in a chair "she is, even if you and (name) don't work, she will always be a consistent and by proxy so will he"

"Yeah..."

"Serious question, Rinny" Rans voice was methodical while gently tracing the wisps of hair from his nieces head "do you want it to work with (name)?" He asked so calm and collected while Rindō sighed "I fucked up enough" he grumbled out and Ran snorted "you sure did, you called him a whore in so many new fun ways! It's going to take a lot to earn his trust"

"I don't think he will, how would I even get him to do that?"

"Maybe start with an apology"

"An apology?" Rindō was incredulous and Rindō rolled his eyes and leaned into his chair "we are hardened criminals, we do what we want but he is the mother to your child, he is your mate" Ran said seriously "our world means nothing compared to family, an apology can fix a lot of things and open many doors" ran said before leaning close and locking eyes with his younger brother before whispering;

"So apologize"

And with that, Ran stood up and pulled his cigarette holder "I'm leaving now, you better make sure he isn't being stupid or I swear to god"

And with that, Rindō was left in the room with his sleeping mate who hated him and his infant daughter who gurgled up at him, wide eyed "hey..." He whispered and gently took the babies finger "I'm your dad..." He whispered to the little girl who looked at him with nothing but pure curiousity and Rindō couldn't help but smile at this pup.... His pup.

He was a dad now.

Looking up he stared at (name), the Omega spent and out cold in the comfortable bed with many pillows ran made sure (name) had.

Ran was right, he was so obsessed with (name) when he met him at that party... He was absolutely stunning...

Would (name) forgive him?

He was awful to him even up to the birth...

(Name) Held onto his son while being discharged, Ran returning with a BMW armored van and a shit eating grin "there's my beautiful neice~" ran cooed while he and Rindō helped (name) get situated, (name) glaring at Rindō while the Alpha buckled in (daughters name) into her car seat "I got you two some food! Also I stocked up your fridge, (name)!" Ran always the doting but brother knew Rindō still hadn't apologized but could see him working up the confidence for it.

"We'll be alternating whose with you, we worked out a schedule so you're never alone!" Ran said happily and (name) suppressed a sigh at the concept of having to be near his daughters sire for prolonged periods of time and hopefully not kill the Kanto manji member.

(Name) Ate his food quietly, exhausted "drive slower" (name) hissed out and Ran looked back from the rearview mirror "were going at the speed limit (name)"

"Don't care." (Name)s instincts were going haywire "drive. Slower." He hissed out and ran began driving slower at the furious pharamones that made Rindō crack a window "thank you" (name) focused his attention to (daughters name) who was so peaceful before pulling out his phone and placing the screen under her nose to check her breathing and let out a content sigh.

"Rindō is on first watch as I have business to attend to but don't worry I'll bring you two souvenirs!"

(Name) Glared at Rindō and Rindō looked anywhere but him "you know you don't have to, I know you're not thrilled about parenting" (name) didn't even ask for this...

"I want to be there for you two"

"Why...?" (Name) Was suspicious of the alphas words, he didn't trust him as far as he could throw him.

"...let's get (daughters name) in bed then let's talk"

[wyngigi]

ꕀ LUST FOR LIFE ꕀ 04

↳ sex money feelings die remastered .ᐟ cross posted on ao3

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“ they say only the good die young, that just ain't right 'cause we're having too much fun, too much fun tonight ”

↳ synopsis: a group of individuals find that their first taste of freedom in the world brings more obstacles than expected. some of them, find solace by drowning in liquor or in the backseat of somebody else’s car. a lot of them have got to get their shit together. a lot of them won't.

mdni » story contains nsfw content intended for 18+ audiences pairings » member specific, not listed for spoiler purposes ↳󠁪󠁪 ateez x female reader, ateez x ateez ↳ genre » coming of age ↳ word count » 2.3k ↳ general warnings » substance abuse & consumption, sexual content, morally grey characters, unreliable narrators, internalised homophobia, angst, basically every struggle young adolescence can go through ↳ a/n┆i hope u guys love this chapter as much as i do !! a little blast from the past always has me excited <3 p.s let me know which pairings ur rooting for after reading hehe (and yes next chapter we will be back at the party dont worry the drama has just begun)

04⌇memories of summer bring you

As San weaves his way through the crowd, past the drunken bodies of guys and girls alike, he finds himself reminiscing in just how much he had changed the past few years. Was it okay to live a life like he was right now? He’s not too sure. San first thinks of high school, then his thoughts float to you.

San watches the clock tick above his teacher’s desk, mind wandering as he scribbles on his worksheet with a ballpoint pen. He’s trapped in a god-awful environmental science class (which mind you would’ve been a free period instead), courtesy of not taking enough science courses earlier on to hit the credit minimum. It’s torturous, making him study about the world in a stuffy classroom when he could be out there learning by simply living in it.

San might just be a little salty, but the lesson isn’t actually that interesting either, so his mind has been elsewhere the last half hour. He’ll listen when it actually gets important, maybe. First he was daydreaming about buying a motorcycle and speeding off into the sunset, away from this boring sad old town to go live some larger-than-life bullshit.

Then he thought it’d be too lonely to do by himself, so he brainstormed an alternative. If he were ever able to do it, he’d probably try convincing someone to come with him. He hasn’t even finished his senior year, yet his ideas still don’t seem all that crazy to him. It might be farfetched to others, but San disagrees. If you aren’t dreaming big, could it even be considered a dream at all?

Then he starts wondering if his thoughts are too reckless most, if not all of the time, if attempting to move through life hastily would be too irresponsible and could scare the people around him. But he really doesn’t want to miss out on living, San wants to go see and do the things you have to go out of your way to experience. Something you make the journey for to begin with, not just a simple detour.

The type of stuff you have to just hold your breath for and jump into with no regret before it’s too late, the tide retreating, water becoming far too shallow. (He truly wasn’t lying earlier when he said he loves to be on the move, or that the thrill of exploring had always been dangerously enticing to him.) Those mantras, principles, whatever you wish to call them replay in his mind daily. They always have.

San knows the world won’t slow down and wait for him too. He sees it outside the classroom window right now, how the cars still pass down the street as the birds fly high into the sky even if he’s confined to his seat. San is well aware that it’s him who has to be the one to take the leap of faith and choose to start living. The problem is that sometimes he just can’t.

When San would think about the daredevils, adrenaline junkies, risk takers of the world, those who love to live on the edge of things, preparing for their big take off, he’d think of how he would love to be like that someday. Yeah, someday. The difference was he liked staying on the edge too much. Didn’t like the feeling of climbing to the highest point just for the glory if he could end up tipping over, see himself falling down and lose control of everything in the process.

When third period ends San makes his way out of class then down the hall, stopping at his locker so he can drop off the notebook and stationery he no longer needs till after his second lunch break. San knows he has PE next, so he quickly grabs his gym clothes. It’s not that he cares much about being late for it or missing out on any of the “action” though, he only really enjoys it depending on what sport they’re playing.

He likes the sports where his only role is to defend whenever a ball or something comes his way. It’s why he thinks volleyball is torture; trying his best to stay in his position once his team scores but then somebody is already telling him to hurry up and rotate. Those days are just endless cycles of torture. Actually, were. He started to sit in the nurse’s office on those days.

It’s a good thing they’re doing netball today (he doesn’t have any more passes to sit in the med bay now). San has a lot of fun playing it. He’s even claimed the goalkeeper bib before anyone else can so much that whoever he plays with just lets him have it. The people he usually plays with are good enough to the point where the opposing team never even gets to his third of the court.

Goalkeeper suits him for that exact reason, he enjoys getting to win without even having to take a shot with the ball. San liked how it was so much he didn’t think or want to try being a goal attacker or centre. Well, maybe sometimes he did a little. There were a couple instances where he wanted to try a different role for the first time. San had gotten as close as picking up a different position bib even. Thoughts like that were shoved away quickly however, and the bib would end thrown back into the crate. The mere possibility of letting anyone down in case he was terrible outweighed his curiosity (and potential) on multiple occasions.

Failure was a funny thing; it had given him a terrible feeling that would sit in the pit of his stomach or make him so nauseous it was awfully dizzying. The funnier thing was that San had never truly failed at anything in life, simply because he had never tried much to begin with. That was the case, for quite some time in his life as he knew it. He had been growing more than okay with that knowledge as time passed, then one day he wasn’t.

As he turned away from his locker, San spotted you walking the opposite way to your own fourth period class, clearly getting ready to ditch the rest of the day. His heartbeat had sped up and his palms were awfully sweaty but for the first time ever, he shut out every reasoning voice in his head and chose to do something he never had the courage to before.

The two of you were in the same grade, so he had seen you passing by in the hallways always with both earphones in (to drown out everyone else he assumes, you never talked to anyone when you had them in while carrying an almost sorrow expression). Despite how you looked, you would still be humming away to a tune he could never fully quite catch.

He also knew your lunch times were spent eating shitty snacks from the vending machines and that you really liked the strawberry lollipops from the cafeteria (which they only sold every Friday for some fucked up reason, he overheard you complaining about it to your friends in math).

San would also see you after school with all of your cooler, older friends too. You would all huddle around the corner near the bike racks in the parking lot, out of sight from teachers so you could bum cigarettes off of each other. You’d also listen to music while you were there, only with one earphone in though so you could still hear everyone talk. He liked seeing that, you always looked happy and smiley talking to your friends.

The two of you weren’t complete strangers, but nowhere close enough where he could feel safe calling you his friend either. You shared multiple classes with San, greeting him with a small smile when you’d walk by his seat to get to your own (he liked that you’d always say hi to him even when he never did first). The both of you even worked on group projects together, but that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to know more about you, to take even the smallest peek at the inner workings of your mind. To find out how you always seemed to not care when things went wrong.

He thinks of your reaction when you would fail a test, how you’d simply shrug before shoving the paper into the bottom of your backpack. Immediately after, smiling as you’d turn around to talk to your friends about whatever you all planned to do that weekend. Stuff like that didn’t make much sense to him. Why would you not opt out of hanging out just for one weekend and study harder to do better on the next test like he would?

San supposes that’s what separates the two of you into vastly different worlds, yet he wants nothing more than to just step over that line and join you.

When he had spotted you there, on that humid summer day in early June a feeling had begun to settle into his stomach again. The strange bit was that it didn’t feel humiliating nor demeaning, but there was still something unsettling about it. It felt extremely foreign at first but now, incredibly comforting. Because for once, it didn’t feel like failure.

So, he then decided to call out to you. It was the very first time he had ever greeted you, without you doing it first. Your name exceedingly foreign on his tongue when coming out of his mouth while you weren’t sitting at your desks in a shared class. You had turned around at the noise, both earphones still blasting music into your ears.

Once you had recognised who the voice belonged too, you immediately had taken out both of your earphones with a smile. The tune he had never been able to fully hear, was now playing into the world for him to hear freely. He felt the corners of his mouth beginning to prick upwards at that. Yet with no plan of what words he would say now, San was immediately regretting his choice to speak to you. His fists were balled up in front of him, grip tightening on his clothes ever so slightly as he lowers his eyes down away from you.

The edge he always treads so carefully on was now unstable and he felt it beginning to crack already. You don’t leave him any more time to freak out over it though. When he looks up, he sees you already opening your mouth to say hello in the soft tone you always use, ushering him over.

“Hey, San. You want to come skip with me?”

The cool breeze flowing through the corridor, cooling down his cheeks just had to heat up again when he locked eyes with you, of course they did. Because San had always found everything about you pretty, from the first time he ever saw you. Not a day would there be a doubt in his mind of that. But, in that very moment he found you strikingly beautiful. In a split second, where his brain and his heart finally worked in unison he had responded hurriedly, before he could overthink it and regret it for the rest of his days.

“Yeah, I do. I’ll come along,” As he chucked his gym clothes back into his locker, a switch had been flicked on in his mind. When he turned around and saw you then, one lollipop in your mouth and a second in your hand, held out to him, a realisation had been thrown into his face like a bucket of ice-cold water. San had ultimately discovered that dancing on the edge was fun, yet leaping off it was much better. Even if the water was too shallow down below, San thinks he would be okay with that.

While walking away from the gym and instead down the hall with you by his side, San had spotted your earphones tangled up and peeking out of your backpack. That day, he settled with the fact that maybe it was okay to be a little too reckless, to move a tad too fast. Even if it could scare people, even if it scared him.

If you asked San what made him love that summer far more than the previous ones, he might mention his drunken bike rides with you and your friends, or the nights he spent laying on the beach with you gazing at the stars. Hell, he even liked the part time job he had to take up thanks to the party you helped him throw (which ended in that broken window he had to pay for). Spending a portion of his summer working as a server wasn’t fun in theory but when you’d visit him on his breaks or pick him up after his shifts, San had found it pretty worth it in the end.

He was truly happy in every moment back then; he’s enlightened even now, because all the memories of summer bring you back to him. Despite existing only as a brief moment in his own mind, San is content because whenever he closes his eyes he finds a version of you is there with him. He’s able feel the sun on his bare skin, with your lips pressed against his own again. His favorite bit being when the lingering hint of strawberries followed as you both pulled away.

Yeah, that’s exactly when it was. Three summers ago. When San had first decided it was alright to embrace being him, to be the person he still was today. All thanks to you.

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[amelia-yap]

AUEGH

[camelspit]

why did i take ap chem 😐

[mydr3aminvi0let]

really annoying and cruel and evil and messed up all my friends don't live in the same city. ive got so good at being alone ive convinced myself i could live the rest of my life alone and never be any less happy, and i still believe that, but then we have a good conversation or they make me laugh too much and it's like. oh. this is what it's all about. why can't we all live in the same building

[nomaishuttle]

NEWRLY FORGOT 2 UODATE UNGUYS. NOTTTT TO BRAG BUT I TOTALLY ACED THAT SHIT

[bloomingsalma]

I have had to learn the hard way that it is a CRUEL EVIL MYTH that you cannot catch a cold back to back

[killbaned]

oh the hours start comin and they don't stop comin

[nereidprinc3ss]

pillow talk

in which spencer reid chooses a very odd time to reveal an anecdote from his past to fem!reader

18+ (fluff, extremely suggestive) warnings/tags: fingering but nothing graphic whatsoever, it's basically fade to black sex, discussions of spencer's gsw from season 5, medical talk (and inaccuracies), spencer is a sarcastic little shit a/n: found this super random little thing in my drafts and it was done and i think it's silly and cute so i'm posting it! 600 words, short n sweet!

“You got shot in the knee?”

It’s perhaps said too loudly for the setting—tucked into Spencer’s bed in the late hours of the night when up until this point the conversation had been nothing but murmured stories and quiet giggles. And before that, well—before that there hadn’t been much conversation at all. 

Still you can’t find it within yourself to apologize as you sit up, holding the top sheet to your chest and looking down at Spencer incredulously. His eyebrows raise like he’s surprised by your reaction. 

“Thigh, technically. And it was years ago. Come back.”

You huff but allow yourself to be pulled back down, head on his shoulder as his hand finds its place stroking your hip once more. 

“How have you never told me that?”

“You never noticed the multiple incision scars on my leg?”

“What? No! Can I look now?”

“You won’t be able to see them. It’s too dark.”

You angle your head toward him, and he does the same, tilting his down until your noses almost brush. 

“So turn the light on.”

“If I turn the light on I’ll get distracted.”

“Distracted by what?” You ask, realizing what he means and voice quickly fading even as you finish the sentence. He chuckles and kisses your head. 

“I’ll show it to you in the morning. Come here.”

“I am here,” you grumble. He hums, leaning down further to try and kiss you. 

“Closer.”

So you scoot up the mattress and roll onto your side, pressed right against him, to meet him halfway in a sweet kiss. 

“You’re kind of spoiled,” you laugh against his lips as he begins pushing the sheet from your body. 

“You have to be nice to me. I got shot, remember?”

“Right. And how long ago was this, approximately?”

“It was 19 days before my 28th birthday.”

So much for approximations. 

“Aw. You got shot for your 28th birthday?”

It’s his turn to laugh into the kiss as he carefully rolls over you but recovers quickly, assuming a deadpan delivery. 

“Yeah. And it was really bad.”

“Sexy,” you murmur as he kisses down your jaw. “Tell me more.”

“Shots to the leg can be life-threatening if the femoral artery is nicked. Thankfully the bullet missed mine. You’re welcome.”

Your heart skips with a split second of true anxiety, but you snort at his cavalier attitude. 

“Yeah? This is really working for me.”

He lowers his voice to the one he uses in more intimate contexts and you giggle as he explains his gunshot wound to you like it’s dirty talk. 

“The bullet went in through my rectus femoris…” now uninhibited by the sheet, he finds the spot on your thigh and pinches lightly, “and came out clean through my semitendinosis muscle.”

“Clean? No bone fragments?”

“Nope. The doctors said I was extremely lucky it didn’t splinter my femur but it completely destroyed my muscles. I had to do physical therapy for a year and a half and I had a cane for months.”

“That’s kind of hot,” you breathe, losing commitment to the bit as his kisses get lower and his hand creeps higher. 

“Wait until you hear about the mid-surgery aortic clamping and ligature complications. You’ll love this—I was awake the whole time.”

A soft moan slips from between your parted lips and your brows pinch. 

“Spencer—”

“What?” He murmurs. “Me getting shot in the leg isn’t sexy anymore?”

You manage something between a breathy laugh and a mewl as your back arches. 

“I’m gonna kill you.”

He hums against your throat. 

“Good luck. You’d be far from the first to try.”

[starlightkun]

well this isnt right

[verstappen-cult]

Mad Max (angry kind of frustrated max verstappen) like barging through the paddock mad - when he sees her (reader) his anger falls and he gets teary and turns into clingy breakdown maxie

… just a cutesy idea i had

thx byeee💗💗

Max is having an awful weekend. The car is shit, and everyone is asking him why he didn’t participate in the run for Senna that Seb organized, and he is just so tired of repeating the same thing over and over again because, apparently, everyone wants to hate on him this weekend.

He just finished with an interview, very abruptly after the reporter acted unprofessional. He really doesn’t care that everyone is going to be talking about that for the rest of the weekend too.

“Max,” His PR officer says, touching his shoulder to make him stop walking. “the reporter wants to talk.”

Max scoffs, rolling his eyes. “About what? If he isn’t going to apologize, then I don’t have anything to say.” He walks away when from the corner of his eye sees a few reporters and cameras pointing his way. Max knows that he should apologize to her later, for leaving like that, but now he just wants to get the fuck out of the paddock and hope for the best for qualifying tomorrow.

He’s walking fast, very fast, avoiding eye contact and every fan that tries to make their way towards him. He doesn’t care about being disrespectful now, they need to respect him and his time too.

But then someone is grabbing him by his arm and he just can’t take it anymore. Max turns around, only to find his favorite person looking at him with a worried expression on her face.

“Maxie?” You ask, leaning a little closer and cupping his cheek. “Gemma told me what happened, you want to talk about it?”

And suddenly he is at a loss of words, the urge to cry making it hard to think straight.

Max can only shake his head, eyes filling with tears in just a couple of seconds. And, knowing him like the palm of your hand, you see right through him.

“You want to leave? Back to the hotel?”

Max nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I just need,” He bites his lower lip, noticing a few people around that can’t stop looking at you two. “to grab a few things from my drivers room.”

You hold his hand, squeezing slightly. “We can ask Gemma to do that.”

Max feels relieved because he really doesn’t have the strength to stay a second longer in this place.

The car is already waiting for you when you walk out of the paddock. You let Max get in first before climbing inside and sitting by his side.

No one says anything for the first half of the way, but then Max is turning around and looking at you with a pout on his lips. And you can only open your arms.

Max rests his head on your lap for the rest of the way, your fingers massaging his scalp as you patiently wait for him to start talking.

“I’m having a bad weekend.” He says after what feels like hours. “I don’t want to think. I just want to sleep.”

“You can sleep, baby. I’ll wake you up when we get there.” You lean down to place a kiss on the top of his head. “You need to rest.”

Max sniffs, “Would you hold me? Please?”

“I’m never letting you go.”

[familyvideostevie]

all of it still matters

joel miller x fem!reader | 2.4k

you get sick and, much to joel's chagrin, refuse to take it easy.

jackson!joel, fem!reader, fluff, fainting, ellie and her dog that i invented for some reason, kind of plotless but who cares! it's all about love in the end, anyway.

a/n: welcome back to our lovebirds from just and just as. be gentle, please. it's been a while.

--

The sky is a brilliant orange. Golden hour, they used to call it.

It's probably a little too cold to be sitting on the front porch but you can't help it on an evening like this. You tug a fraying flannel of Joel's tighter around your shoulders. It's worn at the elbows and he reminds you that he'll fix it if you release it from your clutches but somehow that never happens. The journal he made you is open on your lap, almost full. You've taken care to write down not only your memories but the stories he and Tommy tell about their lives before, the day-to-day of Jackson, the jokes Ellie is particularly proud of. She recently recounted a birthday trip to a museum, laughing as she told you about pushing Joel into the water.

You take a sip of your pine tea. It's chilly through the whole day, now, and soon the morning frost will be snow. Winter was hard for a long, long time, but now it's comfortable. It means lights up in town, children throwing snowballs, community meals and dances. It means warm nights under your blankets with the furnace of a man you sleep next to, soft salve on chapped hands, a slowing down of the Infected sightings.

And it means Joel chopping wood. He should be doing it in the back yard -- usually does -- but this evening he's finishing up the trunk pieces Jesse left by the steps. A big tree had gone down at the edge of the town clearing and everyone got a few pieces once they'd split it up. Joel will no doubt give Ellie at least half of what he cuts.

The benefit of him doing it out front is you get to watch. His back is to you, but you can see the way his sleeves are rolled up, the damp hair curling over the collar. The exhale when he brings the axe down, the flex of his shoulder blades when he tugs it free of the stump. You could watch him do anything.

As if hearing your train of thought, Joel wedges the axe in the chopping block and turns to face you. He runs a hand through his hair, silver strands catching the orange light, and huffs.

"Enjoyin' yourself?" he says.

You grin at him. "I'd say so."

Two things happen at once. A headache blooms without warning at your temple, sharp enough that you wince and press your fingertips to the skin there. Joel notices and takes a step towards you but then a dog barks and his attention is drawn down the street.

"Naledi!" Ellie yells, jogging up the street after her dog. "Come on, we've talked about this!"

Joel glances back at you but you smile at him, ignoring the blooming pain in your skull. Naledi -- named after one of those characters from Ellie's comics -- runs right up to Joel and noses at his knee until he pets her. The animal loves him. You don't blame her.

"Jesus," Ellie says once she reaches the steps up to the house, panting. "She can run." She looks at the yard and scowls. "Aw, shit, Joel. Did you finish all the wood?"

Joel, one hand scratching behind Naledi's ears, levels her with an unimpressed look.

"Ain't gonna chop itself," he drawls. "Last thing we need is you holdin' an axe."

"Rude," she gasps. "You steal my dog and make fun of me. Are you hearing this?"

Ellie looks at you in mock outrage, cheeks pink from the cold. She's not a teenager anymore, but falls back into it so easily when Joel teases her. It's a treat to witness.

"I don't know, Joel, you've seen her --" You stand in the middle of your sentence and the words stop coming because your vision swims. Black spots dance across the yard and you pitch forward to brace yourself on the railing.

"Oh, fuck," Ellie says. Joel is up the porch and next to you in a blink, arm around your waist to steady you.

"You okay?" he asks, low and serious.

The spots disappear and you take some deep breaths. "I -- stood up too fast, I think."

Joel remains in your space for a few more seconds. Naledi barks, watching the whole thing with a tilted head from the grass below.

"Ellie," Joel says. "You wanna finish up the wood? I think we're gonna go inside."

"Totally," she replies. "Yeah, uh, go lie down, or something. We've got this."

Joel ushers you into the house and sits you down in the kitchen. The sun no longer peaks over the mountains so he flicks on the overhead lights, which make you groan. He's back by your side immediately, tipping your head up with a knuckle on your chin so he can look at you.

"Think you might've caught somethin'," he says. "Bout that time of year." He presses the back of his hand to your forehead and frowns.

You circle his wrist and tug his hand down. "Just tired," you say. "The overnight patrol is catching up with me."

"Hmm." Joel leaves you be and starts to fix you something to eat. You know better than to argue and, frankly, you don't have the energy to make something yourself. He sets some buttered toast in front of you and leans on the island to watch you take a small bite.

"Something to say?" you manage through a mouthful of bread.

He shrugs. "You should go to bed early." It's barely sunset but it sounds like a good idea. "You going to be okay to work tomorrow?"

Your shift at the stables with Ellie. Pretty easy, as far as labor goes. A good night's sleep should make it bearable. "Yeah, it's just mucking stalls."

"Hmm," he says again. You know what that means -- he's thinking, he's decided, he's preparing, but he'll let you reach the same conclusion in your own time. He won't force you into anything, never does, but he most certainly has an opinion.

You change the subject. "Did you grab my journal?" Joel nods and pulls it from his back pocket to set on the table next to your toast. You take another bite to appease him.

"Almost done with that thing," he says. "Gonna need another one."

"If only I knew someone who made them," you tease. That gets a gruff laugh out of him.

"What you writin' about today?"

"You, Tommy, and motorcycles." Tommy had told you all about the famed birthday ride at the last family dinner. Everyone had heard the story but you, so their voices overlapped about a hundred times as they fought to be the one to explain.

Joel chuckles. "You ever been on one?"

You take one more bite of your toast and push the plate away. He's on it in a second, taking it over to the sink.

"No," you reply. "I don't even know the last time I saw a working one. Just stripped metal out in the wild."

"Think you'd like it," he says. "Good way to see things. Bit of an adrenaline rush."

"Yeah, because there's a shortage of that these days."

The joke falls flat and your eyelids start to droop so you don't see Joel's reaction anyway. Your head throbs.

"Bed," Joel says, softly. Hands on your shoulders, rubbing up and down your arms. "C'mon."

He ushers you up, hand on your back on the staircase. He waits while you brush your teeth and helps you into an old shirt and threadbare pants with a gentle touch.

When you're settled under the covers he perches on the edge of the bed and lays his hand on your forehead once again. A frown makes its way back onto his face and he checks your cheeks, your neck.

"I'm just tired, Joel," you mumble. "It's alright."

"Hmm." He kisses the inside of your wrist lightly and stands. "Gonna go check on Ellie, alright? I'll be back soon."

You fight to keep your eyes open and fail.

__

You feel like shit in the morning. Your head is pounding, your body aching. But you've had worse -- you've had broken bones and bruised ribs. You've been sick, you've been tired, you've been scared. This is nothing compared to life and death. You can muck a few stalls with a headache.

Joel isn't here -- a note on the counter says he got called to fix someone's sink and that he thinks you should stay home. You ignore it and head to the stables, taking deep breaths and walking slow.

Ellie shows up not long after you arrive and finds you leaning on your pitchfork in one of the stalls. Your stomach is churning but you're upright, still.

"You look like shit," she says.

"Thanks, kid," you grumble. "Where's your dog?"

"Dina's taking her on the trails today." They've been training Naledi to smell and track Infected.

You sway a little and make some noise of assent.

"Dude, are you sure you should be here today?"

If you leave now, she'll have to do the stalls herself. "I -- let me do a few more. I'm fine. It's alright."

She gives you a look she almost certainly learned from Joel but doesn't argue.

You are fine...for a little while. Ellie seems content to let you work in silence but you feel her eyes on you as you shovel shit and old hay. Just one more, you tell yourself. Then you'll go home and lie down. One more turns into two turns into three until you're scooping a big pile of straw and the spots dance across your vision again.

"Oh," you say with a gasp, and reach out for the wall, for something, anything to lean on. But your hand finds only air and then you're tipping, tipping, and you hear Ellie's Oh shit! and then --

Nothing.

No, I caught her before her head hit the ground. Are you on your back? Wait til she wakes to move her. Sounds like Esther. God, it smells like shit in here. Someone's hand on your forehead. He's coming --

You blink a few times and the roof of the barn comes into view. A groan makes its way up your throat without permission.

"Fuck," you say. "What --"

"Jesus," Ellie exhales. She's on her knees on one side of you, tugging at her fingers. "God, why did you come to work today?"

"I--"

"Where is she?" Joel's voice echoes through the barn and you try to get up on your elbows when you see him. The sudden movement makes your head pound again and hands on your shoulders help steady you. You're blinking into Joel's face, his creased brow and frown deepening as he kneels next to you.

A warm, weathered palm cups your cheek and his gaze catalogs the scene. He does this a lot -- takes in as many details as he can and makes a quick choice on how to proceed. It's a well-honed ability, one that's kept him alive this long. It's kept you and Ellie alive, and countless others in his company, too. Knowing how bad something is, and whether or not you can fix it.

He huffs, some of the tension melting from his face. "Just tired my ass," he mutters. "How're you feelin'?"

"Guess I fainted," you say weakly.

Ellie snorts. "No shit."

"Guess so," Joel echoes. "You wanna get up?" You nod. He does most of the work, arm around your waist as you stand and sway and end up tucked into his side.

"Surprised your knees work this well," you mutter. He makes a low noise in his throat and squeezes your side but otherwise ignores you.

"Think we're gonna go home, if that's alright," he says. You realize the crowd is a little bigger than you thought. Ellie, Esther, and some of the younger boys who work the horses stand nearby. Your head pounds too much for you to be properly embarrassed. You'll have to thank Ellie later for keeping an eye on you but for now, you let Joel lead you out of the stables without waiting for a reply.

Joel walks you home slowly.

"Did someone come get you?" you murmur. He nods.

"Kid said you fainted," he says. "I see you ignored my suggestion this mornin'."

"Yeah, but if I stayed in bed you wouldn't get to be a knight in shining armor."

There is a small voice in the back of your head that reminds you how bad it can be to be sick in this world. You've all seen it -- sickness takes a few people every year, a handful in bad ones. This is probably just the flu. You know that and Joel knows that. And even that can be dangerous, but you're here with the one man in the world who could defeat pretty much anything. Joel, who will keep you safe, who will see you through it. You really, truly believe that. And you want him to believe it, too.

"How polite of you," he says.

Your boot catches on the ground and you stumble a little. Joel slows you to a stop.

"I'm fine," you remind him. "Just sick, I guess." He huffs but you start walking again. "You really looked worried back there, you know."

"Yeah, well." You reach the stairs up to your house. He tightens his hold on you, practically taking all of your weight as you go up them one at a time. "Was worried you fell into some horse shit. Smell up the whole damn house."

That gets a laugh out of you. He gets you up the porch, across the threshold.

"You gonna listen to me this time?" he asks, sitting you down on the entryway bench. "Stay home, rest up?"

"I'll think about it," you sigh. "You gonna take care of me, Dr. Miller?"

He kneels in front of you to take off your boots and smirks. How many times have you done this? Peeling off each other's boots after a long day. When one of you is sick, when one of you is hurt. Your head is pounding and you almost certainly have a fever but Joel's gentle hands and familiar smirk sets you at ease. You're going to be doing this forever.

"C'mon," he says. "You know I'll take care of you."

He tucks your boots under the bench and puts his palms on your thighs. You lean forward to kiss him and miss by a mile, lips landing at the corner of his mouth.

"My head hurts," you say against his cheek. "I love you."

Joel sighs. "I know, baby," he murmurs. "I got you."

He does.

[no-144444]

married man- l.hamilton

Day 4 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: Married? Maybe. But why does everyone else need to know? 

pairing: lewis hamilton x indycardriver! fem! reader

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Lewis smiled as you walked into his driver’s room. It had been literal months since you’d last seen each other in person, months since you’d been in his sights in general, and a year since you’d been at a race. 

“Don’t you look pretty,” he smiled, wrapping his hands around your waist as you chuckled. 

“I could say the same for you,” you smiled, bringing a hand up to play with his hair. “Get ‘em retwisted recently?”

He nodded. “Had to look good for you,” he joked. 

You laughed. “You’re too good to me.”

He pressed his lips to yours, and man, did it feel right. You hadn't been with him for months. You missed your husband, and he missed you right back. His hands slid lower, gripping your ass as he sighed into your lips. “Missed you so much,” he mumbled. “Too long to not see you.”

It had been a very long time. You two lived together in Monaco, but you were successful in your own right. You were part of the Indycar racing series. You loved Indycar, and truly had no intention to pivot into F1. You were an American after all, born and raised out in Marfa, Texas. The seasons were never going to match up, but you and Lewis worked damn hard to make your relationship work, and work well. You texted everyday, called every second day for at least an hour, and made it a habit to see each other at least every 4 months. You’d gone longer this time, 6 months, since both of you were too busy with work or holidays or something else. But now, the Indycar season is over, you were the victor, and you planned to come to the rest of the F1 races, under the guise of being Carmen’s friend, not Lewis’s wife. No one really knew you two even knew each other, let alone got married 2 years ago.  

“I missed you too,” you smiled as he pressed kisses down your neck. “We can’t let it go this long again.” 

“I promise it won’t,” he sighed. “Missed having you here. It’s been a tough fucking season.” 

“I know baby,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” he shrugged. “Ferrari better be the right move next year.”

“It will be. You’ll win your 8th and then you can come be my WAG in Indycar,” you smiled, making him laugh. 

“Always with the solutions,” he chuckled. “Who says I’m settling with 8?”

“Me. You’re getting old, baby. If you want little Hamiltons’ running around, then you’d better be at home to take care of them,” you smiled, though stern in your tone. 

“Yes ma’am,” he smiled. “Man, I love you.”

“I love you too, now, I’ll see you later, yeah?” 

“See you at the finish line my love,” he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek before you left. 

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He’d done it again, another win, somehow. Through the fucking Austin heat, he’d pulled through with that piece of shit strategy from Mercedes. You cheered in the paddock, all cameras on you, but you didn’t care. He’d won yet another GP and you were hardly going to gently clap. 

You ran up to the Parc Fermé with Carmen, both ecstatic at the result (George got P2). You watched in awe as he left the car, celebrating with the team. You’d missed his latest victory in Silverstone and you were delighted to not have missed this one. He ran over to the team, searching only for you. 

“Where’s Y/n?!” he shouted over the cheering. You grabbed at his arm and smiled when he finally made eye contact with you. Suddenly he helmet was pulled off, his lips were on yours,  you were over the barricade and in his arms. 

“Lewis!” you scolded with a smile, pulling away. “What are you doing?”

“Celebrating with my beautiful wife,” he smirked. 

It was difficult to stay mad at him when he was looking at you like you hung the stars just for him. 

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Transcription of Lewis Hamilton’s GQ Sports interview:

GQ: So, Lewis, another win in Austin this time, how did it feel?

Lewis: It was amazing, I mean there was just so much riding on the moment, and it gave us the extra points to get up to Ferrari. There’s such a great atmosphere at places like Austin, especially since it’s a Sprint race and a Feature race, it means a lot to get to win both. 

GQ: And now we’d like to talk about the obvious elephant in the room

Lewis: And what’s that? (chuckling)

GQ: Your secret relationship with Indycar winner Y/n Y/l/n?

Lewis: It’s Y/n Hamilton, actually, and yes, what about it?

GQ: You’re married?

Lewis: Past 2 years, but we’ve been dating for 5. Best 5 years of my life. 

GQ: How did you keep this from the press?

Lewis: Well, we’ve always been the kind of people who do our own thing, and we never really felt the need to be super open about our relationship because of that. We’re both introverts and we both enjoy what little privacy we can have in our mad world, and I think that’s another reason we didn’t tell anyone. We’re also not stupid. Sometimes relationships don’t work out, it’s happened to everyone, and we didn’t want to tell anyone until we were serious about each other, and by then, we were engaged and while we became less careful with hiding our relationship, we’re naturally private people, so it just… never slipped out I guess (shrugging). 

GQ: And what has your reaction been like to the reception of your relationship?

Lewis: (chuckling) It’s funny to see how the internet sees us now, y’know, it’s pretty amusing to see the edits and the theories and the people swearing they’ve known from the start. Honestly I’m really enjoying it. So is she. 

GQ: How did you two meet?

Lewis: I think it was actually Austin. Whenever we’re in America we usually get roped into meeting the Indycar side of our teams, if we have one, and she was just… there when I went to the track. It was so ridiculous, I was asking everyone who she was, and like, everything about her, it was bordering on embarrassing. 

GQ: What drew you to her?

Lewis: She’s just one of those people you meet once and know you can’t live without. She was so kind, and she was helping another team with their car because she’s an engineer, and she was literally being told off by her boss right then and there, and all she said back was, ‘If they have no car, they have no race. They’re not even close to us in the championship, all I’m doing is helping them put the thing back together. Have a bit of empathy’. I knew I was a goner. I just wanted to know everything about her. 

GQ: She’s a woman of the people? 

Lewis: She’s always helping people. We’re philanthropists when we’re not racing and she teaches free classes on engineering in the deep south to get kids out of poverty. They don’t even know who she is, she’s just their teacher, same as anyone else. It’s pretty incredible stuff. 

GQ: Wow, that sounds amazing. She sounds like a very incredible woman.

Lewis: She is. 

GQ: Finally, why did you keep this from everyone?

Lewis: Why shouldn’t we? When you’re in the public eye, everyone knows everything about you, and you’re just supposed to deal with that. We both just wanted something for ourselves rather than to broadcast absolutely everything. I’m deeply uninterested in giving the media more things to write about, and so is she. The only media about us we should be hearing is our race results, not who we’re dating and I think we’ve forgotten that in the past few years. It’s all become quite the popularity contest, and I’m getting tired of playing it.

GQ: Thank you for your time.

Lewis: You too.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen

[hoshifighting]

       tutor!woozi + spanking

— where woozi gets tired mad tired from your disinterest while he tutors you.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, ass-spanking, fingering, crying, teasing, squirt, nippple pinching, rough sex, mentions of body fluids (cum/squirt), overstimulation, jihoon is mean.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

part 1 / part 2 (coming soon)

“you’re late.” jihoon’s voice is sharp, arms crossed like he’s been rehearsing this whole 'mad professor' act for hours. the second he swings the door open, his expression makes it clear he’s been dying to chew you out. you blink at him, leaning against the doorframe like you couldn’t care less.

“relax, lee,” you grin, walking past him, purposely brushing your shoulder against his arm. “i’m here, aren’t i?”

he rolls his eyes, shutting the door with a click, and you can almost hear him clenching his teeth. he throws himself onto the couch like he’s doing you a favor just by being there. you follow, plopping down next to him way too close for his comfort.

“you waste my fucking time, y’know that?” his voice has that edge of annoyance, the one that kinda makes you wanna push him even more, just to see if he’ll snap. “i could be doing literally anything else right now. anything.” he’s got this glare that’s sharp enough to cut glass, but all you can do is bite your lip and shrug like it doesn’t faze you.

“aw, come on, jihoon, don’t be so dramatic. you love this,” you tease, crossing your legs and tapping the spot next to you nudging him to get closer, but he just ignores. “besides, it’s not like i asked for that much of your time. just a few hours.”

he looks at you for a second, probably debating whether or not to throw you out, before he finally sighs and takes a seat. “you’re always distracted,” he mutters, grabbing the history textbook from the coffee table and flipping it open, not even bothering to look at you as he starts going over the material. “we’ve been over this chapter three times, and you still can’t tell me the difference between the renaissance and the enlightenment. do i look like a clown to you?”

you smirk, leaning back on the couch. “actually, you look like—” you pause, dragging your eyes up and down his figure slowlywatching he stiff when you don't finish the phrase. “—someone who could be a lot more fun if you’d loosen up a little.” you swear you see his eye twitch at that.

“i’m serious,” he snaps, and there it is—that flicker of irritation that you’ve been pushing for. he looks at you, eyes flickering down to the short skirt that rides up your thighs as you shift in your seat. “you can’t focus for shit, and i’m not here to waste my time. either you take this seriously, or you leave.”

“oh, i’m taking it very seriously,” you say, biting your lip again as you lean in, your arm brushing his. you always do this—those 'casual' touches . “it’s just hard to focus when you keep talking so much. i mean, what was it again? ‘the rise of intellectual movements in europe’? yeah, sounds really sexy coming from you.”

he bites the inside of his cheek, clearly trying to keep it together, but you can tell he’s close to breaking, plunging his hairs out of his head or something.

“you think you’re cute, huh?” he says, voice low and strained. “if you knew all this shit, why’d you even ask me to tutor you?”

you grin, crossing your legs a little tighter as you tilt your head. “oh, i knew it already. i just wanted an excuse to get close to you. i mean, come on, jihoon. you really think i’m that dumb?” you laugh, watching as his jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing at you.

“you’ve gotta be kidding me.” he tosses the textbook onto the table, crossing his arms again as he leans back. “so this was all just a game to you?”

“not a game,” you say, shrugging. “more like…an experiment. i saw you present your project last week, and, honestly? you looked sexy as fuck up there. figured i’d see if you’re just as hot when you’re trying to teach.”

jihoon takes a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours, and for a second, you think he might actually kick you out.

you lean closer, pressing your arms together so your cleavage’s practically spilling out, and for a second, you see jihoon’s resolve crack. he doesn’t say it, but you can see it in his eyes—the fuck it that’s so loud in his mind, you’re pretty sure even the aliens up there heard it. without another word, his hand is at the nape of your neck, fingers curling as he pulls you down, flipping you so fast your chest hits the couch. your hips land right on his lap, and you gasp in surprise, not expecting him to actually snap like this. but the look you give him over your shoulder—god, the devilish smile that curls up your lips—he knows you’re getting exactly what you wanted.

“you think this is funny?” he growls, his hand coming down hard on your ass, the sound echoing through the room as you let out a choked moan. your body jolts from the impact, but you don’t even have a second to recover before his palm meets your skin again, harder this time. “huh? think you can play your little games and just walk away?”

he slaps you again, harder, and the sting radiates through your body, your muscles tensing as you arch back into him. “jihoon—”

“don’t ‘jihoon’ me now.” another slap. your skirt rides higher with each hit, and you can feel yourself starting to drip between your legs, coating you, but it’s like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

you open your mouth to protest, but then his hand lands harder than before, the force sending your skirt flying up, and he freezes. for a second, you think maybe you’ve won—until you realize he’s staring at your bare ass, his breath caught in his throat. “you’re not even wearing panties?” he scoffs, his hand gripping your hip, and it’s almost painful how hard he’s holding you. “seriously? this is what you came here for?”

you bite your lip, looking back at him over your shoulder again, and his eyes are burning into you. before you can respond, his hand’s back on you, spreading your legs apart so wide you can feel the cool air hitting your pussy. “you’re unbelievable.” he scoffs.

then, without warning, his hand smacks against your pussy, and the shock makes you yelp, your hands gripping the cushions tight. the wetness on his palm is undeniable, and you swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch up in a smirk. “look at you. already soaked, and i’ve barely touched you.”

you whimper, trying to move, but he keeps your legs spread, his hand coming down again. “you like this, don’t you? acting all tough, like you’re in control, but all it takes is a few slaps, and you’re dripping for me.”

his words are low, almost a growl, as he brings his hand down again, harder this time. your body jerks forward, your fingers digging into the couch, but the sting—too good to ignore. each slap has you biting back a moan, your thighs trembling, but the wetness only gets worse, slicking his hand as he keeps going.

“see?” another hit. you gasp, your chest pressing into the couch as you arch your back more, needing the friction, the release. “so fucking wet. what would people think if they saw you like this? spread out like this—begging for a fucking slap? really?”

his hand comes down once more, but this time, he lingers, fingers brushing against your swollen folds, slick with cum.

jihoon keeps going, each slap making a wet smack as your juices connects with his fingers and palm. every time he brings his hand down on your pussy, another thin line of your slick sticks to him, pulling back with a sound that has your cheeks burning. he’s relentless—alternating between slapping your ass and spreading your swollen lips just to smack your clit directly. it’s brutal, the way he’s working you, and all the while, he doesn’t stop talking.

“look at this mess,” he mutters, his hand squeezing the curve of your ass before landing another sharp slap. your skin’s so red, stinging from the constant impact, but that only makes the wetness between your legs worse, dripping onto his thigh. “you thought you could just tease me and get away with it, huh? acting all cute, playing dumb—but you’re the one who can’t even control yourself now.”

your body jerks with every hit, the sharp sting spreading through your thighs, making you cry out. you can feel how soaked you are, your wetness practically running down the inside of your thighs, and it’s so embarrassing, but the way he’s looking at you, all smug.

"fuck," you whimper, feeling the heat pooling in your stomach. you need him—god, you need him so so so so fucking bad, his cock, anything to fill the aching void between your legs. but instead, all you get is another slap, harder this time, making your whole body jolt forward.

“needy little thing,” he growls, spreading your cheeks apart with both hands just to watch as the slick drips from your hole, down to your clit, and onto his thigh. the sight makes him groan low in his throat in approval, and you try to protest, humiliated by how wet you are, but he just laughs. “embarrassed now? after all that shit you’ve been talking?”

his thumb finds your clit, circling it slowly, teasingly, and you squeak in surprise, your hips bucking against his hand. he looks up at you with this exaggeratedly thoughtful expression, like he’s debating something serious. “hmm… so, should i finger you now, or keep spanking this little pussy? decisions, decisions…”

your breath catches in your throat as he dips a finger into your folds, running it along your slick entrance before slipping it inside, and you can’t help the way your walls clench around him. “fuck, jihoon—please,” you gasp, and he scoffs, adding another finger, curling them just right.

“please, what?” he taunts, his fingers working you expertly, slow but deep, making sure you feel every inch. “you’re the one who asked for this. i’m just giving you what you wanted.”

his fingers slide in and out with ease, coated in your slick, the obscene sound of it filling the room as he pumps them faster. your pussy clenches around him, every curl of his fingers hitting the g'spot inside you, and you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips, hips moving on their own to meet his thrusts.

“feel that?” he murmurs, his thumb circling your clit again as his fingers fuck into you. “so tight, so fucking wet. bet you’ve been dreaming about this, hm? me, fucking you with my fingers, making you beg for more.”

he thrusts his fingers deeper, spreading them inside you, and you cry out, your grip tightening on the couch. “fuck—yes, yes, jihoon—”

he smirks, leaning closer so his breath is hot against your ear. “and what do you want next, huh? my cock? think you can handle that after getting off just from my fingers?”

you don’t even answer, just nod frantically as you feel the pressure building, your walls clenching harder around him. each thrust of his fingers sends sparks shooting up your spine, your wetness dripping down his hand, and you can barely think straight, let alone form words.

“you’re gonna cum?” he growls, fucking you faster with his fingers, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. “gonna cum just from my hand. so pathetic.”

jihoon’s fingers are buried inside you, his long, perfect digits moving inside you non-stop, curling against that spot that makes you whimper like a bitch. you’ve spent too many nights obsessed with those hands—those slender fingers that always seemed to be calling you from the depths of your own fantasies. and now they’re inside you, fucking you, and it’s so much more than you ever imagined.

you’re a mess, your pussy squelching with each thrust. your eyes burn with tears, you can feel your orgasm coming, creeping up from the pit of your stomach, but there’s something else, something more.

“fuck, jihoon,” you sob, your voice shaking as his thumb circles your clit again, driving you higher and higher. but it’s like your body’s betraying you—there’s this pressure, this unfamiliar heat building between your legs, and you don’t know what’s coming, but it’s terrifying in the finest way.

his fingers continue their assault, squelching louder with each thrust, and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, the pressure snaps. a gush of liquid escapes you, soaking his hand, the sound loud in the room as your body convulses, your orgasm crashing over you. you cry out, burying your face into the couch, as you realize what just happened. you fucking squirted on him, on his couch, on his floor.

jihoon doesn’t say anything at first. he just watches, his eyes wide, lips slightly parted in surprise. his fingers don’t stop, though. they keep moving inside you, coaxing out more spurts of liquid until they weak. each spurt feels like it's shaking you to your soul, and you want to hide, want to melt into the couch and disappear from the embarrassment, but he’s not letting you go anywhere.

“are you fucking serious?” he mutters under his breath, but there’s a hint of fun in his voice. his clean hand reaches for your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he yanks you up just enough to see your face. you’re flushed, eyes darting everywhere but at him, your body tremblinge.

“are you embarrassed?” he asks, scoffing as his hand tightens in your hair, forcing you to meet his gaze. “really? after everything, this is what’s got you hiding?”

your breath hitches, but before you can even think to respond, his free hand comes down on your ass, hard. the slap stings, making you jolt, but he doesn’t stop. he lands another, and another, the sound of flesh on flesh mixing with your rough breathing. “answer me.”

“jihoon—” you gasp, but he’s not having it. his hand moves from your ass to your breast, getting under your blouse and bra, pinching your nipple between his fingers, hard enough to make you squeal.

“i said, answer me,” he growls, his fingers twisting the sensitive nub until you’re squirming beneath him. “were you embarrassed? or were you just so fucking turned on by cumming all over my hand like that?”

“i—i wasn’t—fuck, jihoon!” you cry out, the words tumbling out of your mouth without thought as his fingers twist cruelly at your nipple, making it hard to think straight.

“don’t lie to me,” he warns, pulling your nipple harder as his fingers start working you again, faster now, his hand still slick from your release. “you loved it. look at you—fucking soaked. i bet if i pulled out my cock right now, you’d make an even bigger mess, right?”

you can’t deny it. the thought alone makes your thighs clench, your pussy fluttering around his fingers, and he feels it. he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and you hate that you love it so much. his hand on your breast leaves for a moment, only to slap your ass again, this time harder, making you buck forward with a cry.

“that’s what i thought,” he mutters, yanking your head back by your hair as he shifts behind you. you can feel him now, the thick outline of his cock pressing against your ass. “you wanted this. you’ve been teasing me, fucking with me for weeks, and now look where you are—about to get exactly what you deserve.”

his hand moves between your legs again, this time not to slap but to tease, his fingers sliding through your folds, gathering your slick. he rubs your clit, once, twice, then pulls his fingers away, leaving you throbbing, hurting for more. you whimper in protest, but he just scoffs.

he pulls your legs apart wider, positioning himself behind you. you try to turn, to look at him, but his grip on your hair keeps you in place, your face pressed into the cushions as you feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

he doesn’t ease in slowly. he’s rough, pushing into you with one hard thrust that has you gasping for breath, your pussy stretching around him, and even though you are prepared enough, the burn makes you cry out. he fills you so good your walls clamp down around him, trying to adjust on his thick girth.

“hmm fuck yes,” jihoon groans, his voice weakened as he grips your hips, holding you still. “so fucking tight. you’ve been teasing me all this time, and now you’re taking my cock like a good little slut.”

he starts moving, his thrusts rough and no mercy, each one pushing you harder into the couch. his hands find your ass again, slapping it with each thrust, and the sharp sting only drives you higher, makes you wetter. you can feel the slickness coating his cock, dripping down onto the cushions, and you’re a mess of moans and cries, hardly competent to form words.

“jihoon—oh fuck—” you sob, your hands gripping the couch. each time he thrusts into you, it feels like he’s hitting deeper, the angle perfect, making you drool.

“yeah? you like that?” he growls. “you like me fucking you like this? slapping your pretty little ass while you squirt all over my cock?”

your voice is poorly there, mumbling things that don’t even make sense. “so full… so—jihoon… fuck… it’s—”

you’re trying to say something, but the pleasure is too much, your brain too clouded to form a coherent thought. he laughs as he flips you onto your back with ease. your body’s boneless at this point, sprawled out beneath him, and he takes a second to drink in the sight of you—your fucked-out expression, the way your lips part in a soft smile.

“you still got a smile for me, hm?” he teases, but there’s something fond in his voice, something almost soft. for a second, it feels like he might lean down and kiss you, but instead, his hand wraps around your throat, and he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth—his pretty and pearly white teeth that you loved during his briefs smiles, or when he bit your lip.

you pout, tilting your head slightly, desperate for his lips, but he just grins.

“bad girls don’t get kissed,” he says, he tightens his grip on your throat just enough to make you gasp, your eyes wide as he watches your reaction. “you haven’t earned it.”

before you can protest, he slams into you again, hard, making your body jerk against the couch. each thrust is deliberate, punctuated by his voice, growling out words like a promise with every snap of his hips.

“you’re—such—a—fucking—mess.”

his pace is brutal, the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin fills the room, and all you can do is take it, your body arching beneath him, your moans spilling out uncontrollably.

jihoon doesn’t slow down. he leans over you, his mouth finding your breasts, sucking hard on the soft skin there. you can feel the bruises forming under his lips, the red marks blooming with each rough kiss, each bite, and you know they’ll turn blue soon enough, the evidence of his touch lasting long after he’s done.

“fuck,” you whimper, your nails digging into his arms, trying to ground yourself. “jihoon—i’m gonna—fuck, i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he growls, not letting up for a second. his hand moves from your throat to your waist, pinning you down as his hips slam into yours with a cruel beat. “you’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you? go ahead. let go.”

you don’t have a choice. the pleasure builds and builds until it snaps, sending you spiraling into another orgasm, your body trembling, your walls fluttering around him. jihoon watches, his eyes dark, his grip on your waist tightening as he fucks you through it, his hips never faltering.

“shit,” he hisses, his own release catching up to him as he pulls out, stroking himself once, twice, before spilling his cum all over your stomach, the warmth of it sticky against your skin. he groans, watching as it drips down your belly, his chest heaving.

for a moment, it’s quiet. your body is still shaking, your mind somewhere far away, but you feel his hands again—this time, softer. he’s cleaning you up with a towel he found somewhere, wiping away the mess he made, his touch surprisingly gentle after everything.

“you okay?” his voice is quieter now, the edge gone, replaced by something almost tender. he looks down at you, brushing a strand of hair from your face as you nod, still too dazed to form a proper response. you give him a weak smile, and he chuckles softly, shaking his head.

you think for a second that maybe he’ll kiss you after all—something soft, something to soothe the bruises he left behind—but instead, his expression shifts. his hand finds your shoulder, pushing you lightly as he mutters, “good. now get out of here.”

you blink, confused, sitting up slowly. “what?”

he smirks, grabbing a couple of books from the coffee table and tossing them into your lap. “you heard me. unless you want another good fuck, don’t come running after me. not for anything else.”

you raise an eyebrow, scoffing as you gather your clothes, slipping back into them without another word. his gaze never leaves you, watching the way you smooth out your skirt.

“right. see you around then.”

he doesn’t respond as you walk out, but you can feel his eyes on you until the door clicks shut behind you.