#this is all just real reactions i guarantee

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[prael]

Touch

Kinktember Day 9: Spa

Newjeans Danielle x male reader smut

words: 7,422 Kinktember Masterlist

"My client, did you see her come in?" you ask.

"No, why? Is she famous or something?"

"Well, that would explain the secrecy, and it would also explain a woman barely twenty having cash to burn at a place like this," you whisper to the colleague who is far too jealous of how you just got requested by name because that usually means big tips for a good service.

"Did you get her name?"

"Supposed to be a secret." Your answer dissatisfies her, and she throws you a side-eye. "Okay. Okay. Danielle something... Marsh?"

"Shut up!" She hits you on the shoulder. "No fucking way. Let me take this one and you can have my next ten VIP bookings."

"Sorry, but she asked for me by name," you tell her. She mutters an obscenity under her breath. "Want to tell me what I'm getting into here?"

And then the girl spews out a jumble of ramblings about K-pop this and K-pop that—the kind of reaction that only the truly obsessed can have. Millions of views on this, charting on that, really fucking popular is the gist of it. So basically the whole planet Earth knows who this Danielle is. Well, shit. No pressure or anything. "Get in there already, do your best work and maybe get me an autograph."

A few forceful pushes out of the staff room and you find Danielle where you left her, her cleansing mask still on her face, sitting in that long white robe. You step barefoot over the soft wood, heat rising from underneath it.

As you draw near, you ask, "Miss Marsh, are we ready to begin?"

"Dani, please," her voice says from beneath the mask. It's hard not to be intimated after being hit with the fact that the woman before you is world-renowned. Though from here, she looks like any other delicate young woman. Her feet are small. Bare, tiny and arched, they hang just a few inches from the floor, and they are as perfectly still as the rest of her. "No need to be formal, I'm here to relax."

"Then let me start by offering you a drink." The bottle pops as you twist it. The label is adorned in cursive. "Bottled at source, premium mineral water." Your arm raises the bottle so she can see the brand clearly.

"Is it magical water?" There is a playful lilt in her voice, "Maybe it has some healing powers?"

"Guaranteed to nourish the soul and unclog those emotional pores," you deadpan.

The facemask stretches with Dani's wide smile, and she lightly chuckles. "That's good, laughter is good for the soul."

"Right." You pour from a height and a theatrical stream flows. When the flute is halfway, you stop the flow and pass it to her hands, which take it gently.

"What? You don't even hold the glass for me? Put it to my lips and tilt?" It's another tease, the joke stretching on her grin, but now it is her hands holding the flute, her fingers long and smooth around the stem.

"I serve, not control."

"Those don't have to always be exclusive." She laughs, and the sound makes you feel something. "But I appreciate the intention. I hear you're the best in the business."

"I'll let you be the judge, Miss Marsh. Now, allow me to remove that mask. I have raised the temperature in here to help open the pores, and I would like to begin with a facial."

"I do love a facial." Danielle smiles to herself. "And again, please, just Dani is fine."

You step over behind her, where her head tilts back against the chair, her long hair cascading below, shimmering in the moist air. Lightly, you place the tips of your fingers along her jawline, finding the edge of the mask and gently lifting it upwards. She doesn't flinch at all, and you watch the wet mask give way to her face. Even upside down, Danielle is indeed beautiful.

With her sun-kissed hair, radiant skin, and effortless, elegant beauty. She is, in summation of all her parts: perfect. The image the word calls up has always been fuzzy around the edges, an abstract idea more than a specific concrete thing, because real people aren't like this. That's what you believed until you laid eyes on her.

"You take good care of your skin, Miss—Sorry—Dani."

"Thank you," she says simply, no joke this time. Your fingers ghost over her chin and then trace to her cheekbones, moving lightly to test her texture, all so smooth.

"First, I shall cleanse away any impurities," you say and lean down to examine her face. Even when you are so close, there is nothing for your scrutiny—no visible crevice, no blemishes, despite there being not a trace of make-up. It's all-natural.

There's a light whisper on her lips, one that you barely make out, "Good luck with that."

You tilt your head as you reach over for a fresh sponge, run it under hot water until it is filled, squeeze out the excess, and slowly drag a path of heat across her forehead. As your other hand holds the sheet over her neck to catch stray water, your first-hand works in large strokes from above, rinsing her skin with each successive pass.

As you focus, she leans back into the chair, and a soft hum escapes her lips. "Feels nice already," she murmurs.

You say nothing, working her in silence. Her eyelids are closed, her lips slightly parted, and she remains so still that, if not for the sound of her breaths, she could be easily mistaken as unconscious. This silence has a tranquillity and familiarity to it, one that feels like home, and without thinking, you are smiling.

She stays just the same as you begin to exfoliate her, brushing across her face in ever-widening circles. It's with such tenderness that her cheeks take a pink tint as she grows hotter and she smiles as you rub in gentle swirls, one spot, then the next.

Time passes in silence as you finish the exfoliation and apply all manner of natural, topical lotions, toners, and peels to Dani. When her skin is primed, you press your fingers against her skin and, starting at her forehead, you massage her face to a rhythm of long, soothing strokes. You enjoy touching her, you admit, which isn't exactly right for a professional, but since you have no outward reaction from her, you assume it isn't the end of the world.

Throughout it all, she keeps her eyes shut. Over time you move around her face, applying more pressure in some spots than others. She shifts and sighs, soft exhalations of her warm breath tickling your arm, yet otherwise doesn't move an inch. Her shoulders relax against the leather of the seat. "You really know what you're doing," she says, with a smirk. You pull her skin with your fingertips, moving them in large circles as it comes to an end. Finally, you tap your fingers gently over her skin to soothe.

"Now, your body, Dani."

Her eyes crack open, but slowly. "Are we moving?"

"I'll wash your skin over there, but the massage will be in the next room. Now, I'll need you to—"

Dani doesn't let you finish your sentence before she rocks forward in her seat and pushes herself to a stand. She's facing away from you and puts her hands in front of her, then she throws the robe back off her shoulders and lets it slide off her arms to the floor in one quick motion.

"Good," she says. "I was for too hot in that thing anyway."

Of course, as a professional, you would never gasp in surprise, yet, at the sight of her ass, the muscles tight, small, and round, the curves of her waist so thin, hair over her shoulders threatening to hide her slender back and those long slim legs, you manage to just barely gulp.

Too hot, she certainly is, you want to tell her and not just in the sense that perspiration coats her skin. Tiny beads of sweat that, as your eyes crawl over her, are in the process of running downwards. This glistening on her flesh is hypnotic. The curve of her ass, the slight tilt of her hips forward, the way the base of her spine leads downward, right down to a crack between her—

Focus. You remind yourself you have a job to do.

"In the far corner. The stone pool. Please, stand by the edge." It takes a second before Dani's head bobs, and then she slinks forward, slow and catlike. Her stride, and every motion of her muscles beneath her flesh that accompanies it, are mesmerising. And with every sway of her hips, you love her tight body more.

She pauses, a foot by the edge, and looks down into the water. Steam rises and envelops her form in a pale white that hugs her curves.

"Please, step in," you say as you walk over to her side and take her hand. Now, you catch a glimpse of her profile, and her chest, small, round and perky, and as you avert your eyes to guide her down the step, you tell her, "Watch your step now, go from stone to stone until you stand in the middle just there."

"Got it," Dani says. She steps with confidence and the hot water reaches quickly above her ankles and then halfway up her calves. With each careful move down the next step she gasps, soft and light. The water splashes with her movement and then swallows her up to the upper thigh.

"Please, take a seat there, on the wide stone." You reach to help steady her as she sinks down, her knees bending as she perches down so the water is at her hips as she sits.

"I just sit?"

"Yes, Dani, and I will bathe you." You step into the pool until the hot flowing water covers your knees, and then you stand behind her. You reach for a sponge, submerge it, and watch it fill, then draw it out and over her lower back and drag a large circle across her soft skin. "How's the water? Feel okay?"

"Great. Wow." She goes quiet as you work up and down her back, long, relaxing, soothing strokes until all the tension has left her shoulders. "That's wonderful," she says.

You clean her shoulders and then down her arms, the sponge dipping under the surface, and caressing her in a movement that feels like worship. With a slow rhythm, you run the sponge over her shoulders and around her neck, and finally, reaching over her, down to her chest. She shifts back as you do, resting herself against your legs. You run it over her chest a few times before coming up again to her shoulders.

"So soft..." her voice says, almost a breathy moan, and you catch a hint of it. Maybe she realises how it sounds because she soon goes quiet. Next, you work downwards, to her tight, toned stomach. Slowly you make sure you cleanse every part of her body. All while her back rests on you and her breathing is warm and pleasant.

"Miss, I mean Dani, can you stand now? We need to get you clean." You prompt, a hand on her shoulder.

"Sure." Dani snaps out of it. She stretches and cracks her neck before rising, leaning forward for a moment. When she rises, ripples run out in all directions and your eyes drift over her ass. It looks plump, perky, perfect. Then you sponge it, giving purpose to your stare. You push it down, over her cheeks and Dani shivers.

You repeat your slow, languid movements. Wipe away any trace of imperfection from her hips and thighs and then when you make her slowly step out of the pool, you work down her bit by bit. Finally, she stands on the edge of the pool, looking down at you, towering over you in her naked glory. She presents to you her foot and you hold her ankle to steady it and clean each digit, scrubbing between the toes.

"You can take the towel, on the peg, Dani."

"You do it." Dani doesn't move at all, keeping her eyes on you, staring into your eyes and through you.

You cautiously nod and then climb from the pool. You keep eye contact and wrap the towel around her small, wet frame. In your arms, she feels so fragile. You rub her down, first her legs. Long strokes, left and right. Each, in turn, both legs. Then you bring the towel up. When you wrap it over her hip and move upwards along her torso, Dani presses herself to you.

"You really know how to put someone at ease," she mutters.

You nod silently in return, and finish drying her shoulders, down her arms, back up, and down her back. You remain stoic as the heat between you builds, and she turns around without prompting. You wrap her again and bring the towel all the way down. Then over her rear. Soft, short circular motions with your palm.

"The table in the next room, Dani. Start by lying on your front, you can use the towel on the table to cover yourself. Once I see you settled in, I'll join you."

She laughs quietly and starts her slow walk to the door. You take your own towel, drying your legs, the water has soaked into the front of your shorts from where she leant against you.

She's on the bed. The towel, provided for her decency, is in a pile on the floor.

"Dani, the towel..."

"I'm fine, I want it off. I want everything off. Is that a problem for you?" There's this undeniably confident quality to her like the universe just has to be as it is because she likes it that way.

"Not a problem," you tell her. "It does tend to get in the way."

You're close to the bed now, looking down at her, still so perfectly nude. So vulnerable and relaxed, and not a drop of shame in her eyes. She gives you a look that says she's in charge, and that she's been waiting for this, and now it's finally going to happen. And that smile is impossible to refuse. "You could join me if it helps. Make it feel more like an equal partnership."

"Miss— I—"

"I'm joking," she winks. Danielle bunches her hair by her head and turns her head to the side as she rests.

The first of your oils, imported, rich and infused, drip with a consistency thick as honey over her. You watch it roll from the top of her back and run down her spine. Its warmth makes her twitch gently.

Slowly you reach out, press your hands into her skin and drag them from top to bottom, following the oil, making sure you cover her.

She hums in delight.

With great care, you begin your work. Fingers sink in, and your thumbs feel her muscles. Stroking and rubbing, from the top of her back, your fingers coax and prod at the flesh beneath. Pressing it back and forth, at times as gentle as a summer breeze and then as hard as a hammer.

There are knots in her back, beneath the tender surface. You find them easily and work at them to relax, coax them into submission, untying the muscles until they go soft. She gasps at your touch as you release them. Her body responds to you in the sweetest ways. With the smallest of whispers, the little fluttering breaths, and with her skin taking on a pink glow.

When the last knot goes soft, she writhes in response, and a content, relaxed murmur comes out of her.

"Oh god, that's it, don't stop," she says, the first words to come from her for a while.

"You were very tight." You reach across, add a small amount of more oil and start working back upwards. One stroke at a time. Up her neck. Over her shoulders. She trembles when you go deep into her flesh and reaches out to grasp at something, anything, and finds the edge of the table, holding herself steady. Her arms now, you lift them one by one, prying them from her grip and then holding and rubbing and pulling to coax the stiffness out.

Oil over her legs, next. Slowly you run your hands over the outside and inside and rub them into her skin, kneading it into her. Danielle keeps her mouth firmly shut the whole time. No jokes. Nothing funny. You lean down to her, focusing on her thigh that refuses to let go. Bending down, you push into her. As you feel her tension drain, you are rewarded with another quiet hiss.

You place the oil upon her feet and work it into her soles with a finger, an instant trigger, she cackles as her foot recoils at your touch. "Sorry, that's a bit ticklish," she tells you, apologetically.

Her feet go still and she inhales deeply as you set back to your task, much to the quiet amusement of Danielle. It's the slowest you have ever worked on a client, with long, dragging strokes to make sure she really enjoys it. Each is careful, so careful, to pull and tease. "Keep working it all the way up, all the way up my legs," she orders, quietly. "Nice and slow. Can you do that?"

You agree.

You hear Danielle sigh as you move your hands slowly up her calf. So soft and firm at the same time as she breathes so gently. A trace of laughter, an easy smile. You work her in the same manner, up her thigh, as slow and relaxing as before, massaging deep and heavy. Danielle begins to roll her hips as you grip the flesh at the top of her thighs and dig in.

"Higher, please, just for me." Danielle makes a little hum to accompany the instruction. You obey, knowing where this is leading. You take the oil, and let it pour lightly onto the peak of her cheek, it threatens to roll away so you capture it in your palm, a firm squeeze of her rear, a spread of oily warmth. She shivers and pushes up her hips in silent encouragement.

Your hands trail along, smooth and oily, each touch brings more shivers. Her legs part slightly, a slow squirm of her hips. Your fingers glide on her tight, round cheeks; running across, back and forth as she breathes deep. You press deeper with each sweep and listen as her gasps become a little louder, and her body moves a little more. She bends her arm, reaching back, as you watch it shake. Her nails claw onto the side of the bed.

The more you tease her with your touch, the harder she grips and the more she parts her legs. You've known the perfection of her body, just by seeing it, but this feeling confirms it.

Your hand wanders with long, oily strokes as you glide up her back, tracing the curves of her slim back up, all the way to her neck. There, you hold her as you lean in. "You can turn over now. Let's work out your front," you say, and Dani nods in agreement.

She smiles, though she remains silent, slowly, with such care, turning onto her side, then twisting to face you, her face flush, eyes drowsy, her mouth agape. She rests upon her back, arms by her sides, legs flat against the bed, open, as you gaze into her eyes.

You apply the oil with long slow strokes down her stomach, feeling her as she flinches, watching the dimples at her waist appear then vanish with her body's twists, with every flexing of her muscles. When you trace up, her flat, beautiful chest, and slowly slide a finger beneath her small pert breast, Dani takes a deep, quick, raspy breath, then says, "They didn't lie when the reviews said you have the best hands in the world."

Your oil-covered thumbs graze upon her nipple, soft at first, gentle in pressure, but this becomes firmer, building and rising, faster. Round and round it swirls, and this delight sends Danielle's breath to hitches and sharp, shallow pants. As she squirms in delight, her legs twist, rubbing and clenching. Her teeth bite down on her lips. The flesh of her body glistens.

One hand reaches, down a thigh then back up, across her stomach and down the other. Repeated in pattern as the other thumb never ceases on her pert nipple. Dani's eyes go blank as your touch continues, circling, teasing, stroking and grabbing. Her body responds and you are delighted to witness every tremor and gasp as it arches. And finally, for the first time, a full-blooded moan rings free.

Your hand goes lower. Deeper into the pit of her thigh as she spreads her legs wide. You seek out the inevitable and when you reach her crotch, you watch her tense up. And when the touch slides between her pussy's folds, and against her clit, there's an immediate reaction, her body jumping as you make the slightest flick of motion with your middle finger. You lift and let a trail of oil roll down her slit and back down to her rear.

"I wasn't really joking before," she gasps. "You should be naked. It would make this whole experience better." Dani tilts her head, fixes her drowsy gaze onto you, and holds the stare for what feels like a hundred heartbeats. "Don't you think that's fair? The way things are going?"

You hold the eye contact and consider this, a sudden lump in your throat making any immediate reply a struggle. Her eyes don't move from yours. Even her chest barely heaves with her short, fast panting.

"Go on, I want you naked. I'm going to feel so, so empty otherwise..."

That's all it takes.

How could you deny her?

Your hands, still covered in the hot oil, reach for the buttons at your collar. You slip them in order from the top and release one after another. Danielle's lips twitch, and her teeth rake them to a shine. Your clothing drops to the floor. Bared. It feels so wrong, and unprofessional, yet Dani looks on and gapes with a hungry, dark delight.

"Nervous now?" Her eyebrow twitches up.

"Never," you bluff.

Danielle's mouth stays open wide, and her breaths get caught and flicker as your touch returns to the same spot as before. Gentle, light touches flutter with your fingertips, drawing the tips of your fingers back and forth, back and forth, over her clit. You watch as her eyes widen, how her legs straighten out and she starts to kick her feet with the faintest hint of frustration as you tease.

"I paid for a deep massage." She emphasises the adjective, dragging the syllable out like a whine. "This teasing is bad for my heart," she whispers.

Her arm rises, then reaches for your chest and trails its way downward. The pressure of her finger, nails lightly scratching at your skin, trailing down to the waistline and then she wraps her slender fingers around you. It's hard. Incredibly so.

"And I'll show you how generous I can be with a tip."

She licks her lips slowly and sensually as her eyes meet yours with a mischievous gleam.

You grunt, pressing down with your fingertip, and then without a second thought, push it inside of her. Danielle throws her head back in silent bliss.

"Holy shit," she mumbles in a muffled, muted moan. "Don't hold back." You circle inside her slowly with one finger, letting the oil's moisture guide you. Then, adding a second digit, you delve back into her, pushing in deep and making sure she can feel it all the way inside as the palm of your hand pushes against her crotch.

Dani rolls her head to one side as you work, staring you right in the eyes and biting down on her lip as she throbs and you press down inside of her, moving in all sorts of subtle directions that are impossible for her to guess. With that, she moans again and there's a little grunt from deep within her. Her fist twists around you and she gets bolder with her touch.

You build it into some sort of rhythm and she moves, each time, reacting so well with your own thrusts. When she's relaxed enough for it, you introduce another finger.

"I— You can— Go a little bit faster," she pleas. Stretched wider, Dani starts to grow even more restless. This time, instead of small, languid strokes, your whole hand works, fingers rubbing and swirling, thumb finding her clit to massage it with purpose, building, always building, until she is shuddering under you, every single time, tensing and twitching with every change in direction.

"Come on—more," she pleads, bucking up against your hand, so slick with arousal.

She's barely jerking your cock, not even intentionally, just the jolts through her body causing the occasional twist of her grip or slide of her palm. You let it just rest in the loose curl of her grip and focus on doing what she commands, twisting your hand, gripping and stroking, tugging in circles and holding inside. The quivering gets worse and worse. And her breath grows heavier.

You keep working her relentlessly, as she squeals a drawn-out curse. Dani nearly loses control. She grips you hard, tightens her fist around you in spasm, a pained wince on her face, as she curls her toes so hard.

"Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop." It's the only thing she says, no jokes, no banter, as her eyes roll back, mouth agape as if the wind's been knocked from her, and a final, body-length spasm overtakes her. Her whole body. Back arched off the table, eyes pinched shut. It lasts for the longest time, almost impossible to sustain, you watch with an odd mix of terror and wonder. Her hair is a mess. Her naked, stretched-out limbs, glisten in the warm light.

It takes her a good half minute to fall back down, her lungs now sucking in the air as if there were none at all. One leg quivers. Her breaths slow, her eyes open again and you're holding her stare, her cheeks a faint scarlet, strands of hair plastered across her forehead.

More oil. More rubbing. From tension to relaxation again. Slowly she softens and you turn her whole body limp beneath your hands. All while you barely manage to hold yourself back from ravishing her. She keeps her eyes fixed upon you, so you force a smile, ignoring the ache clenched in her fist. You could kiss those lips, right now. Taste them. How soft and smooth would she feel pressed against you? What noises would come out of her?

You'd be forgiven for letting your imagination run wild with desire, but not forgiven for taking this service in any direction that Danielle didn't command.

She watches your thoughts as they float by, and seems to be considering the same. Then she smirks, and just with a look, reassures you that it's going to happen, and it's going to happen just exactly the way she wants it.

You're working your slick hands over her midriff, and have been for a minute or two, waiting for instruction. You work slightly up her body, perilously close to taking some initiative, but then she speaks, "That was... unexpected."

"Was it? Seemed to be your plan all along."

"Planned to tease. Planned to be touched. But did not expect it to be that good." She shakes her head softly, her cheek touching her shoulder as she stares with a fuzzy, dreamy look that is impossible to decipher. She has a cute, beautiful way of pouting her lips that's fascinating, you're struck still, hypnotised by the sight and the motion. "A few more would be perfect."

"You have me booked for another hour, and the client gets what the client wants."

Dani laughs. A light, melodious chime. "I know what I want," she tells you, gently rocking her palm over your cock. "I'm incredibly hard to fully satisfy, you better get to work."

Dani releases you from her grasp, and turns back over to her front, stretching out once more and looking back at you over her shoulder, holding a stare as she parts her legs. This stare could kill a man if his heart were too weak, and though your heartbeat quickens, your mind focuses on your purpose.

Your hands glide over her oil-coated thighs, wet and glistening. Dani rests her head back down and you are unable to stop your gaze from wandering along her spine, the gentle dimple above her ass, the two tight round cheeks below and the line bisecting between them. Up over her ass, you caress, then you slip and stroke in the valley, this, she clearly enjoys, judging from how her butt rises to greet your touch, her hips rolling once more.

Lower now. Lower and lower, until once again, your finger meets her lower lips and she hisses an inwards breath and tenses. Her body is so reactive to every touch. It makes this so easy, so rewarding, so deeply arousing. You are confident you can build her up, high, and crash her down in waves, for hours, until the sun breaks.

Two fingers again, to begin, that same twist and swirl to coax her towards delirium. Her quiet huffs and suppressed moans fill the air. With a heavy push, you dive in deeper, to watch as her whole body, muscle by muscle, starts to become lost in the sensation. And when you curl your fingers down and grind the heel of your hand over her clit, Dani absolutely loses it. She bites the sheets, body tight, hands trying to grab the far edge of the bed to give something to hold onto.

Her feet kick uselessly and a series of incomprehensible phrases fill her breath and break apart on the way out of her. Though you don't quite understand them, you grasp the meaning. This is what she wants you to do right now, to see how high you can bring her.

Her whole body starts trembling again. Tingling, quivering, shivering. It's one constant shake and her moans are louder, and longer. She struggles to breathe out a scream. Sweat begins to mix in the oil, and she lets out another unintelligible mess of words as you pull away. Dani collapses back into a quivering heap, gasping for air and stretching her hands out as if reaching out to the void, reaching out, grasping for something in the dark.

She lies there, spent, breathing deep. Her entire body is hot and burning as her muscles relax. Each breath is a moan, and her thighs clamp tightly together as if the feeling of nothing after being so worked up is torturous to endure.

Your fingers are soaked in her creamy fluids, it drips down onto the bed below. Yet somehow, this isn't over. No. There's a single goal, right in the back of your mind, that's never stopped clawing. If only you could taste her. Sink your face between her firm ass cheeks and tease her with your tongue and suck and devour her, the entirety of her.

Maybe you could ask. Or maybe you could just start kissing her lower back, your nose rubbing against her tailbone, working to the left, towards her hip and tease, trailing your lips ever lower to a spot just over the peak of her butt, until she wants your tongue to dive right in.

The thought is interrupted by her blessing, "Again. Another. However you want," her words stumble upon each other, a raspy, spent quality to her. "Whatever you want."

You kneel at the very end of the bed, lean over and take her hips and you lift them up with an abrupt strength that earns her immediate interest, judging by her sudden gasp. You put her on her knees, ass in the air. Beneath it, her lips shine and spread. You're going to drown in her. You lean over, planting kisses along her body until they land right where your fingers had been, right along her soaked pussy.

The taste is so sweet. Dani whimpers as her body twitches. Your lips part her, and your tongue stretches and laps her up with an unshakeable excitement. Dani tastes amazing, like every inch of her, hot and rich and so unbelievably delicate. She is desire—concentrated and distilled into the female form. Your mouth descends, kissing every tiny spot you can reach, your lips closing, sucking the sticky warmth into your mouth. You might spend the rest of eternity here, savouring her juices.

Each rough lick gives Dani a small burst of pleasure. This is perhaps not the most elegant approach, but you wouldn't dream of stopping and so you continue, over and over, eager to return Dani to her previous, tranced bliss. So wet and sweet and smooth as velvet, your tongue flattens over her clit.

Dani cums twice like this. Ass in the air, your face in her cunt, two more delicious releases and you lap up both. They come accompanied by Dani's musical screams and moans and swearing and mumbles and complete incoherence. Every part of her body tenses. Every movement becomes forced, with less control, until every part of her, quivering and shaking, is taken by a rapture. Her throat chokes off her moans and breathy whimpers, and then she becomes lost for a time, struggling to remember to breathe, caught up in the overwhelming, and unstoppable waves.

"Enough, enough," Dani chokes out, and so you stand back, watching as she twists back into a flat position on her back again, her hips shaking with the effort. She trembles for a while longer before lying perfectly still on the table. As you gaze at her, she still appears ethereal, unattainable. She gazes up at you with lidded eyes and the drowsy content smile that rests upon her lips—she is a goddess. Even after all those body-racking orgasms, she settles into that same elegant grace that makes you question what makes her mortal.

Dani raises a hand and curls a beckoning finger, "Come here."

And you come to her, to her smile that draws you in, a moth to a flame and the moth will burn, not the flame, it will never tire, it will consume anything. She takes you in her hand, hard and throbbing under her delicate touch, and yet so helpless against it. With a pull, Dani draws you in—to consume.

She parts those pretty, pink, curled lips and then looks up into your eyes and sighs as her warm breath runs across your length. Danielle curls her tongue to the underside of your head and engulfs it. She doesn't raise her head from where it rests, instead making you clamber up to her, so you put a knee on the wooden frame and a hand next to her shoulder. The heat grows, and Dani is swirling her tongue over your tip, making you twitch and throb in her grasp, a slave to her touch.

You're pushing forward, leaning over her, as her mouth opens wide and lets you in, then, all at once, tightens. Her tongue and lips stretch around your thickness and then enclose you, sealing tight. She makes a point of looking you in the eye, holding your stare, a curl at the corner of her mouth that only further sets a tremble to your loins. She pulls, slow, agonising and without hurry, her mouth holds tight and sucks back.

You pull out of her, an inch, and she stays clamped tight and as she draws away, she uses the time to slowly slide her tongue along and around your crown and against the sensitive underside. Once Danielle has pulled right off with a wet smack, the warmth of her breath covers your cock once more. She flicks her tongue against your tip, first as a long, sweeping, lingering brush, then a rapid flick that teases.

"Dani, fuck," you groan.

"That's the idea," she whispers, right against you, her warm, panting breath driving you crazy, her own burning desire barely contained. "Get down there and do me. Right now."

Then, in one fluid movement, her hands find her legs. She grips behind her knees and pulls her thighs up and back. She spreads her legs wide, with her feet in the air.

"Fuck me. I mean it," she states firmly, fixing you with that stern gaze. Her words send a flaming arrow directly to light the most basic of your instincts.

She has presented everything to you and wants to give even more. You can think of nothing else but ploughing her into the table until your vision fades to white. It takes only seconds and you find yourself over her, between those slim legs. You put a hand on each thigh and spread her.

Cock bearing down on her leaking cunt, you lower your body until she has all of your weight on top of her. Her hips squirm under your pressure, and she drags your arm tighter around herself until she finds exactly what she's been looking for. A rub between her folds as your length slips against her, up and down.

"Mmm, yes," she giggles, "put it in, all of it."

In an almost unconscious action, you place the head of your cock against her opening. Her wetness provides no friction, and Dani uses her nails to scratch your back impatiently. Slowly you flex forward. Every inch. So warm, so fucking hot. Tighter than anything.

"Oh, yes," is all Dani has to say as her breath cuts short. You feel the intense squeeze, you have no doubt this is a step beyond the pleasure your fingers gave her, and her entire body tightens, and she pulls you in, deep and full. Her eyes grow wide and her fingers dig into you as you draw back and drive in once more.

Another moan, her pitch gets deeper, this one drawn out from her very core. You hear it right in her chest, from the depth of her lungs, before it squeals free, right into your ear. "Worth every penny." Her words are thick and drawled, hard to make out, she can't seem to decide whether she wants to open her mouth or close it and keep it shut.

She wraps her arms tight around your neck and pulls you in deeper, you push her legs higher, folding her body up and it only makes things tighter, a thrill she clearly relishes.

You roll forward, holding her close to you, giving you a better purchase with her feet held up so high. Dani groans as you bite and suck at the soft skin along her neck. Your thrusts are still slow, so damnably slow. You push, and fill, and wait. Over and over, it's a cruel torment to both of you.

"Ah, come on. Give it to me, hard," Dani says, raking nails on your neck. She turns her head. Finds your mouth. Seals her lips against yours. Teeth nibble and then her tongue penetrates your mouth. Her hips start to rise and drop. Her sex grabs at you, pleading to pound her.

So you let go of your iron self-restraint and fuck her. Fuck her good.

Your tempo grows more powerful. Her walls squeeze and pull and writhe with a desperate need. It's tight, so, so tight, the way she envelops you, the slick warmth around you. Each stroke sends a shudder through her. Another ripple follows and with it, her high, pitchy wails. Dani's never been so loud, so demanding that her pleasure be delivered.

Number five is close, you can feel her body going rigid, the quivering, twitching, curling of her toes, the growing tension, you go faster, a force building within, trying to rush her to the inevitable. Dani screams, moaning incoherently, her eyes screw tight as you throw yourself into her with such ferocity, like an animal, with no regard for pace, or rhythm. Pure, unrelenting pleasure.

She grips so hard on your shoulder, and then her other hand goes back, over her head, gripping the edge of the table in white-knuckled desperation. "I'm... cumming," Dani spits through a clenched jaw, unable to even form her tongue around the word.

Her orgasm feels more powerful this time, so much more; it flows through her and you can't help but stare. Watching the way the pink blossom blooms on her face and how the rest of her pales. One orgasm into another, you think, it's difficult to discern. You're in no rush. No race. Instead, you delight in the absolute loss of control you see in Danielle's face and you feed off it.

Her mouth forms a soundless scream and she reaches up and sinks her nails into your chest and drags them across, not breaking the skin, but hard enough to leave marks. It feels amazing. All the more so watching Danielle break herself, willingly.

"Holy shit..." Danielle pants then sucks air into her empty lungs.

Her little, flexible body, pinned beneath yours, seems incapable of even the tiniest motion, save the trembles.

Through gritted teeth, she says, "I want— I want a facial. My face. Cum."

This is the single sexiest thing she could have possibly said at that moment. For all the time you've spent watching that pretty doll-like face contort in a hundred different ways, you want nothing more than to see it coated with your lust. To paint every last bit of that sweetness on her lips, on her cheeks—everywhere. To witness that brief moment, after climax where she is confused and awash with bliss and trying to remember how to breathe, and it's interrupted by a load of your cum. You want it.

You round the table, standing over her head, lowering down and watching her eyes spark with anticipation. Danielle knows how bad you want it, how close it is, and you watch, enraptured by the way she tilts her head up and licks her lips. Her little, eager tongue.

Dani wraps her fingers around you and strokes and pumps fast, pulling, urging you to completion, teasing you to spill over her, onto those pretty, dainty features. Your skin feels alive, like static and pinpricks and pure lightning, like your nerves have come to the surface. Pent-up energy coils low, threatening to snap. You cannot resist her anymore.

It all unfurls in a glorious, explosive instant. Blinding. A shiver climbs up your spine, spreading to every limb in one long spasm. A long, raw growl in your throat as you shoot thick and hard, some on her face, and some overshooting onto her chest. Dani gasps a cute little "Oh" and then starts to giggle as the second rope lands right over her perfect little features. And then another, this time across the bridge of her nose and her cheek and down her lips. Her tongue collects whatever it can.

Dani's small hand keeps a hard grip and keeps coaxing, even as you feel like you have nothing to give, with it all painting her face, still, she jerks up and down, until you are empty, trembling and drained. Still, she goes, forcing you through painful shivers, laughing the whole time until the pain becomes too much, and your hands take hers and pull.

You prop yourself against the table, looking down at the mess you made. Dani's happily laughing to herself, licking up what she can. "You'll need to clean me again now, won't you? Sponge away all your dirty filth," she giggles.

Her giggle is intoxicating. Loving. It warms you right through. You wish you could bottle up her laughter.

"Need a minute," you grunt, and there's so much pride on her cum-strewn face.

"Aw, need time for recovery?" Dani quips. "I'll just lay here, all messy and defiled. Waiting to be tended to. Enjoy the sight of me, of your filthy cum all over my sweet, innocent face, until you get the strength to lift me. Really, don't rush, I love this feeling."

[dazed--xx]

SKZ!Reactions: It Was All a Bet II (Hyung Line)

Part 1 Maknae Line Masterlist

A/N: I put this out as like a little birthday present for myself lol but yeah, i hope you guys enjoy. a lot of you have requested this and have been waiting on the edge of your seat for this so here it is. i hope it lives up to you guys expectations.

Chan:

A series of rapid knocks slammed against your door; you roll your eyes from your position on the couch not moving a single inch to open the door. Turning up the volume on your t.v you hear your phone ring, seeing Chan’s contact name on your screen you snort to yourself. Another round of knock’s bang against your door. “Y/N, I know you’re home! Please just talk to me!” Chan pleads on the other side of the door. You shake your head to yourself, continuing to ignore him. You turn the volume up on your t.v. again drowning Chan out as you try to ignore the ache in your chest. The betrayal you felt beyond measure as you remember the way he laughed as he jeered at his friends about his win almost being guaranteed. How could he? You thought he loved you. You believed him every time he kissed you and held you close. The nights you spent wrapped in each other’s arms felt real, you couldn’t describe the pain you felt as he uttered those devastating words. It had been 4 days since you heard it, you couldn’t handle opening that door and seeing him after he took your heart and smashed it to a million pieces. You sniffle as you wipe a stray tear flowing down your cheek.

“No…Don’t cry over him…you’re not some weak heroine….” You tell yourself as the calls and knocks come to a stop. The sound of your door opening makes you jump in a panic, your eyes widen as you turn to see Chan entering your apartment. You shake your head as he slowly enters, his head hung low as he closes the door behind him. His eyes meet yours and you notice all the tension in him leave his body he reaches toward you, a desperate look on his face as he strides across the room toward you. “Babe--No.” you cut him off monotonously as you look away from him.

“Get out.” You demand.

A look of horror spreads across his features as he stares at you. A painfilled gasp is released from his throat “Y-You wont even let me explain?” His voice cracks as his eyes fill with tears. “There’s nothing to explain…. everything we had was based on a lie” You counter coldly. He shakes his head as he steps toward you, his heart cracking as you take a step back “N-No..you really misunderstood. Please…. please let me explain…l-let’s just sit, a-and talk. I promise its not what you think” You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter…. —I asked you out before the bet was made” He cuts you off desperately. “I-Im an ass for making the bet but, I never asked you out because of a bet I promise you that.” He continues nervously. Your head whips toward him, your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion as he explains “The bet was about the length of our relationship. I swear. Im not saying I was right to make the bet, but the guys kept saying that we wouldn’t last three months. My schedule is hectic and unpredictable so they kept saying that you’d feel forgotten about and that we wouldn’t even be able to make three months. So, I just made the bet and yes, I was stupid, but I love you. You know that I love you and I would never do something so terrible. I made a mistake a huge mistake, but I promise you that I love you and I won’t let my mistake ruin what we have…” He states as his right hand caresses your cheek as his left encases your waist pulling you into his lean frame, you turn your face away from his as he leans in closer to you.

“How long did you give us then?”

“What?”

“How long did you bet we’d be together?”

Chan smirks at you flirtatiously as he leans in close to your face brushing his lips over yours “I tried to say for the rest of our lives, but Minho talked me down to a year” You blush as he presses his lips against yours softly. “I’m so sorry, I was an ass, and I was so wrong but please…. don’t break up with me, okay? I felt like I couldn’t breathe when I felt like I was losing you. I love you” He pouts as he pulls you into his chest his arms wrapping around you firmly. “You’re still on thin ice…. but I love you too” You scold as out look up at him, pecking his lips softly.

Minho:

You stared out the window watching Minho pace in front of your job for the nth time while he contemplated coming inside. You watch him as he lifts his phone from his side as he begins to type out a message before deciding not to and running his hand through his hair. Your heart ached for him as you noticed the distressed look on his face, but you were much too frustrated with him to have sympathy for him. With a heavy annoyed sigh, you make your way from behind the counter and stride toward your ex. Pushing the front door open you glare at him “At this point, this could be considered stalking….” You scold. Minho’s head perks up as his movement’s halts, the moment he notices you he rushes toward you; his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you against him his legs giving way as he holds onto your waist. His body trembles as you feel your shirt growing wet as loud desperate sobs erupt through his chest as he buries his face in your shirt. “Im sorry, don’t break up with me. Im so sorry” He pleads. You try to shove him off softly.

“No! Please! Im sorry! Im so sorry please”

“Lee Minho, get ahold of yourself.”

 He shakes his head, “No. ill beg and plead and do anything I have to so that you can forgive me, and we can be together. I’ll explain, you’ll be mad for a while but—but…” He stares up at you with a pleading pitiful look “…we can figure it out. We can talk about this; we can work this out. I can fix this; I’ll do anything to fix this s-so please don’t break up with me. Please at least give me a chance to fix this…. I need one chance” You stare at him in disbelief “Why so you can finish your year?” A look of heartbreak forms on his features. “I don’t care about that…Y/N…h-how could you say that? How could you ask me that?” His voice cracks, as more tears form in his eyes as he stares down at his lap. “Y-You must think I’m this disgusting person now…. Fuck!” he cries. “Minho, this is my job. This isn’t the place for this.”

“Where else could I do this? You refused to see me this past week. You won’t answer my calls—you don’t have time for this. Where did you suddenly pull all this free time out your ass? Move on Minho. I found out about your bet to date me” You cut him off harshly. He finally brings himself to his feet, his hands encasing your shoulders. “Does that matter? Like truly?” He asks “Why does it matter? We are together, we care about each other, it doesn’t change the things we’ve been through this year. So why does it matter how we started?”

“Because its all a lie!”

“I have never lied to you!”

“Our entire relationship is a lie!”

Minho freezes as he stares at you with a painful expression “Y-You don’t believe that I care about you? Y/N…. I—you said I was tolerable, and that this year was a breeze because of it” You cut him off. He winces at the mention of his message. “I-I said the wrong thing. T-the guys would know what I meant. I didn’t mean to send you that message, and when I realized I did…. Y/N I promise you I never wanted you to find out this way. I was going to tell you, in person and beg you to understand and forgive me. But my feelings for you are real. I love you and I care about you, and this is fucking breaking me right now. so please, j-just give me another chance to show you that you mean more than anything else in this world to me.” You stand there for a moment as you contemplate, you notice your boss staring at you with a disapproving look from inside. You give a sigh, “This really isn’t the time…. I get out at 8. We can do dinner or something and talk I guess” you state. Minho’s eyes light up as he nods enthusiastically pressing his lips to your cheek. “T-thank you…You wont regret this.”

Changbin:

“Do you not know how to read or something?” You growl as Changbin stood in your private studio. Changbin stared at you with a pout on his lips. “It’s been two weeks Y/N…” You shrug “Wish it had been longer” You state as you shove past him and sit at your desk. “How much longer are you going to punish me? I already apologized. I’ve been calling, texting you. What can I do to get you to talk to me again?” He whimpers as he stares at you sadly. “I don’t want to talk to you. Its that simple, Seo Sunbae-nim.” You state professionally. A look of horror and disbelief paint Changbin’s expression “Don’t—Don’t do that… don’t put distance between us like that.” He pleads. You shake your head “If you’re not here to discuss your next project I’d suggest you leave” You state as you focus on your computer.

“I-Im not leaving. Not until we talk about this.”

“Oomph, seems like you’re going to be moving in here. How fun….”

“Why are you being like this? Why can’t we just talk about this? I already said I’m sorry—yeah, right before you begged me to pretend, I don’t know about the bet so you could win.” You cut him off with a look of disgust on your face. Changbin freezes in his place as he stares at the ground as guilt fills his stomach. “That wasn’t the reason…. I know that I said I needed the money and that it would be doing me a favor but, I was panicking, and I just said whatever came to my mind that I thought would get you to stay with me.” He confesses nervously. “Well, that’s just stupid…” You state as you continue to stare at the computer pulling up a file for a new rookie group you’ve been working with. “If that’s all, can you leave? Im going to be having a session soon.” You state monotonously. Changbin’s eyes well up with tears as he turns your chair around, dropping to his knees he stares up at you with pleading eyes. “Please, please forgive me. I was wrong to make a bet to date you. I would never do anything that terrible again, I would never betray your trust again. I’m so sorry and I really regret making the bet, but I don’t regret dating you. The only good thing to come out of something this stupid is our relationship and how you make me feel. I will do anything to make this better, I can give you time, I can give you space so you can be mad at me all you need. If you want to curse at me in the middle of the night because of the pain I’ve caused you, I’ll answer the call every time. I’ll be your friend if that’s what you want for now, but I need to know that I will have a chance one day to fix this. I can do that; I will do that. I care about you, and yes, this relationship started without me truly feeling for you the way you did for me, but it is the same now. we love each other and I know I can fix this, please give me a chance to. Please, I can be better—I will be better for you. Im so sorry” He begs, a heartbroken expression painted on his features as tears stream down his face. His voice cracked as he spoke, causing the walls you placed around the section of your heart that was filled with Changbin to come crashing down. You stare at him feeling a pitiful guilt at the pain you caused to the man you love.

“B-Binnie…” You whisper naturally. His head perks up as he stares at you hopefully. His hand caresses your cheek. “You don’t understand how sorry I am” he whispers as he leans in slowly, and hesitant. “Sorry can’t fix this…:

“No, but I can’t force you to forgive me and just say yes to staying together when I hurt you. I need you to know how terrible I feel, and I want to turn back time, so I didn’t make the stupid bet.”

“We would have never been together if you didn’t...” You state, Changbin shakes his head in denial “No, we are meant to be together. Even if you don’t forgive me now…. I’ll wait for you because there’s no one else meant for me. Even if I didn’t make that stupid bet, we would have ended up together eventually. You’re meant for me, and I’m meant for you….”

Hyunjin:

You roll your eyes, unamused as you exit your apartment and see Hyunjin standing on your porch as you make your way to your classes. He smiles at you brightly “Hey Babe” choosing to ignore him you brush past him, a monotonous look on your face as you make your way to your car. You resist the urge to look back and see his reaction. HA! Take that ‘Male Lead’ You snort to yourself mentally. Unlocking your car your eyes widen when Hyunjin pulls open the passenger door and takes a seat before you could enter the car. “The audacity…” You whisper under your breath. With a sigh, you open the back door pulling out your bag and opting to walk to the university instead. Shrugging the bag over your shoulder you begin making your way down your driveway. “Y/N, Are you serious right now?” Hyunjin groans in annoyance as he exits the car closing the passenger door behind him before he walks around the car pressing the lock button before closing the door. You continue walking as he rushes from behind you taking a hold of your forearm and halting your movements. “Fuck, don’t do this to me….” He whimpers “Talk to me, look at me, something please…” His voice cracks. You shake your head as you try to pull your arm out of his grasp. His grip grows a little tighter. “I’ll explain. We can talk about this.” He pleads.

You continue staring forward and bite your lip, so you don’t respond. “You’re killing me here…you know that?” He whimpers. “I told you, its just better for you to leave well enough alone….” You state coldly. “And I told you that I’m not giving up on you” Hyunjin counters. You shake your head “I’d rather you did. I won’t be helping you win your bet.” A pained scoff erupts from his throat “Is that why you think I’m here? That stupid fucking bet?!” He growls angrily. You nod, knowing that the bet probably wasn’t the reason, but you allowed the pettiness you felt in the pit in your stomach take over. “You don’t even know what the fucking bet was about!” He shouts angrily.

“Excuse me?”

“You. Don’t. Even. Know. What. The. Bet. Was. About.” He grits. Your eyebrows furrow as anger boils in your stomach “Do I need to? I heard enough. I know you made some bet to date me and would get 500 dollars after a year” You argue. “No. The bet was I would confess to you and prove that I was actually serious about you within a year because I had a habit of developing feelings for any girl that treated me like a fucking person instead of Hwang Hyunjin from Stray Kids. Im not some disgusting prick that would date a girl I have no interest in for fucking pocket change Y/N. it’s not like I need 500 dollars, if you didn’t know Im kinda doing well in my career.” He snaps. “I made the bet to prove to myself and the guys that I was actually serious about you. Was it stupid? Yes, but I won’t let you just sit there and say that I was fucking playing around with you when you’re the first girl I want to be serious with in a very long time.”

You stare at him in disbelief. Words not coming to you as you replay his explanation over and over in your mind. It felt like an eternity before you said anything. “That’s a stupid ass bet if I’m being honest” You state with an annoyed pout. “Oh, you thought I was smart?” Hyunjin jokes as he leans into you pulling you into a back hug as he rests his chin on your shoulder “Can you please give me another chance? I wont ruin this again. I won’t do anything that stupid again.” He pleads softly, you sigh “Please just give me sometime to think about it?” Hyunjin groans “Please? Baby, this is torture…if you weren’t going to forgive me, you wouldn’t be letting me anywhere near you right now.”

“So, you should have your answer then….” You state sarcastically.

“But I’m not sure if you forgave me if you don’t say you do….” He pouts.

You shrug as you pull yourself out of his arms and make your way to your car. “I got a test and I’ll be late, so I have to go.” Hyunjin follows behind you with a kicked puppy expression as you unlock your car once again. “Will I see you after your classes?” He questions sadly. You pull open the driver’s door taking a seat and rolling down the window as the engine roars to life. You wave Hyunjin to lean into your window, he complies with a sad pout. You press your lips to his cheek as you whisper “Depends on your schedule…” His cheeks heat up turning a bright crimson as his hand caresses the cheek you kissed. You wink at him as you reverse out of the driveway.

Taglist: @corrodedthorn n @lovesunshinefelix @lailac13 @moonchildlv @neyangi @hello-stranger24 @tamlinsfiddle @allyrarara @yangbbokari

[alex51324]

Now, more than ever, we need to be careful about spreading misinformation and rumors

I can guarantee that over the next few months, we'll be hearing about a lot of alarming things going on here in the US. Some of those things will be true, and some won't. (And some will have both true and false or exaggerated elements.)

It's going to be absolutely vital that important information is not drowned out by misinformation, rumors, and ragebait.

That means, when you see something that would be important if true, before sharing, you check whether it's actually true.

In library world, we use the acronym SIFT:

STOP: Don't spread the information, or get caught up in your emotional reaction to it, before you've checked it out. INVESTIGATE: Who is saying it? How do they know? If there are links or sources in the post, do they actually say what the person is saying they do? FIND other coverage: Do an internet search for key details: quotes, people's names, specific locations. If something major is happening, there will normally be a lot of coverage. TRACE claims, quotes, and media back to their original context.

Usually you don't need to do all four things: just STOP and then pick what makes sense from the other three. If you decide to share the information, you can also say what you did--"This is a firsthand account from XYZ protest; it lines up with what the local TV station is saying, but has a lot more details about what the cops did," or whatever.

The more urgent the information seems, the more important it is to make sure it's reliable.

If we're hearing every other day that this or that vulnerable group is in immediate, life-threatening danger--but 49 times out of 50 it turns out to mean Trump rambled somewhere about something which, if actually implemented, could end up having the described consequences at some point down the line--then people aren't going to know the difference the one time in 50 when the danger really is immediate.

Think, here, things like immigration crackdowns, CPS investigations into parents who affirm a trans child's gender, or demands that health care providers report miscarriages to law enforcement. We all know that these are things Trump World talks about a lot and would like to be able to do, in some form. For the sake of the people affected by these topics, we need different ways of talking about, "Here they are, back on their bullshit," versus, "This is a policy proposal for a real thing that could happen," versus, "Holy shit, grab the kids and run."

We cannot go to "Holy shit, grab the kids and run" every time Trump, or someone in his inner circle, decides to bloviate about something that could disastrously affect people lives. The people who are most in danger can't stay at DefCon 5 every day of their lives, and when they do really have to grab the kids and run, we need that alarm to be heard over the constant background hum of dread.

The same goes for action items--whether protests, ways to help, or little things people can do to stay safe/sane. There's going to be plenty going on, and nobody is going to be able to do everything, so do your part by passing along those things that you can vouch are true and important, and skipping the things you aren't sure about.

I'll leave you with an example. Remember how a few years ago, we were all-in about hand hygiene and disinfecting surfaces? And then it turned out that those were not actually very important in terms of preventing the transmission of COVID-19, and what we really need is better air filtration in public spaces--but, at my work at least, we still have canisters of surface-disinfecting wipes sitting around, and tattered old signs up about hand hygiene, and no air filters.

At the time, early in the pandemic, we were sharing the best information we knew about how to stay safe, but people got a little too fixated on that initial advice--remember how people would wipe down their groceries? And those little sticks for pressing elevator buttons?--and then when the advice changed, they didn't want to hear about it.

Distrust, fatigue, superstitious attachment to the old grocery-wiping ways--there were a lot of reasons, but the key thing to take away is that attention, energy, and goodwill are all finite resources. Try to avoid wasting it with grocery-wiping--or worse, shilling for the guy selling little sticks to press elevator buttons with.

[nfr-girly]

hasan finding out ur pregnant on stream 😭🫶🏼

AHH I’ve literally thought of this before - but then I remember I write and I can literally do it myself 😣

————————————————————————

-you’d probably have found out a few days before you tell him, just so nervous to say anything

-he’d notice too, ur mood changes a lil and he gets a bit worried

-you’d decide to show him on stream, and I can guarantee he’d be going off about a political topic and just FUMING at all the idiots he’s watching

-you slightly open the door and he stops to look at you, he’s still red after ranting for almost 10 minutes, while you’re there all nervous 🥹🫶

-“you okay baby?” He’d ask, which does settle you a bit and you walk over to him, not even saying anything and handing the test to him

-chat can see it’s a pregnancy test and already starts FLOODING the chat before Hasan can even react, just a bunch of “OMG STOP” “IS THAT A TEST??!!??” “Hasan in his dad era”

-Hasan actually takes a minute to figure out what it says, partly because he’s still coming back from his outburst earlier, but also because of all the emotions going through his head.

-you do start to get worried seeing how long he takes to respond. you whisper a “Hasan?” to get his attention, already preparing to take whatever harsh words he has to say, cause you’re starting to think this isn’t what he wants

-but when he looks up your heart actually melts, all the red in his face now gone and now replaced with tears in his eyes

-“is this real?” He asks, begging that it is

-“yeah it’s real” you giggle a bit, knowing now he’s not mad

-all of a sudden you’re hugged by a 6’4 man who’s bursting into tears, literally almost knocking you over, mans literally bolted into you

-you laugh and play with his hair, now crying yourself 🥹

- “so you’re okay with this?” You ask

-he looks at you and wipes his eyes, “are you kidding me? I’m gonna be a dad of course I am” he laughs and kisses you

-bro everyone’s crying in the chat now cause of you two lovebirds

-SPEAKING OF CHAT the amount of emotions that went through everyone ??

-the excitement upon seeing the test, the worry at Hasans reaction, and then the support after he hugged you

-chat needs a break cause wtf

-but after you guys calm down you guys go outside in the corridor to talk for a sec, you tell him about when you found out and he feels so bad he couldn’t have supported you when you did 🥲

-you don’t care anymore you’re just so happy

-you let him go back to the stream and you guys agree to talk later

-he’d come back to the stream and need to take like 6 minutes to get back into it

-he actually does forget what he was ranting on about 😭 chat has to go through it with him

-trust though he does go back to full on RAGING once he reads something stupid

-but all that’s on his mind is this new journey you two will be on <33

[krypticcafe]

Okay so we’ve got the boys reacting to being called babygirl, but how would their partner react to being babygirlified??

When they call you babygirl (COD:MWII)

rating: mature

character(s): GN!Reader, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, John "Soap" McTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, König, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Hound

warning(s): language, suggestiveness, angst, a smidge of a graphic injury, general military violence, no beta read haha

a/n: reminder to all my gn and masc readers that I'm using babygirl in a gender-neutral context and so is the reader!! Also, I can't guarantee that it'll all be lighthearted as the last part but I can guarantee y'all eatin good tonight :)))

Previous

Gaz

Funnily enough, he purrs it out when you come to bed after a long day of work, pulled into his side the moment you laid down.

"How's my babygirl doing? Good, yeah?"

You're stunned, surprised at the fact that he even used it at all.

He's amused by your reaction and presses a soft kiss to your head, making a mental note to use it more often like this.

Like him, you try not to fall too into the feeling, but he already knows the effect on you.

Luckily for you, he doesn't abuse it, but almost torments you with it, using it in private or a soft tone that only you can hear.

But you like it. It's intimate, a little special in how he uses it to get you smiling or flustered. Much like a lot of other aspects of your relationship, it's something you can trust him with and be respectful about.

Most of the time, you'll find him using it on a sleepy morning, arms around your waist with his chest against your back and his face nestled on your shoulder blade, mumbling a "mornin'" or a "how'd you sleep last night?"

For him, it's best when he can get real close to you and just pour his affections out with that simple little nickname.

He watches you stumble out of bed while he pours a cup of coffee for the two of you and smiles innocently when he offers it.

"Sleep well last night, baby-"

"You are so damn lucky I love you." You warn, taking the cup and rolling your eyes when he laughs.

Don't worry, he knows he's one lucky bastard.

Price

"Atta soldier, how's my babygirl holding up?"

He's watching proudly from afar while you finish pummeling through a group of enemies like it's nothing.

"Doin' alright Captain, we're clear to push on." You respond with confidence.

But you don't tell him that his comment through the comms alone nearly threw you off your rhythm.

He uses it again when you're all at the pub celebrating another landmark success, subtly bragging while half-drunk about how you carried the team today.

A part of you is mortified not just because Price tends to open up a little too much when he's drunk, but also because you hated the fact that you liked hearing him call you that in the first place, how you didn't need a drink for your mouth to get dry and your face warm. Not to mention it was in public—practically a declaration that you belonged to him.

Not that you minded.

His grip grows firm on your side while he speaks with admiration, your face grows warm since one, he was calling you that in front of so many others, and two, he didn't just hand out praise to anyone so when he meant it, he really meant it.

Later when you're both headed to your shared quarters, he asks, "So were you havin' a fever earlier or..?"

Of course he noticed.

You explain to him it just caught you off guard, that's all. Especially when he says it in such a way.

In the back of your head, you hoped he'd be too drunk to remember this in the morning but knowing him...

"I see... well then, we'll just have to put that to the test tonight, won't we?"

You have no objections.

Soap

"There's my babygirl, been lookin' for that smile since we been back."

After a particularly rough mission, Soap had been glued to your side for the past hour or so, talking it out with you.

When a particularly dumb joke of his finally cracked you, that's when he said it.

You groan, still laughing while leaning your head into his shoulder, muttering about how "irresistibly insufferable" he could be sometimes.

"So you admit I'm irresistible?"

That gets him a lighthearted punch on his chest and some more hearty laughter out of the two of you.

You now find him using it here and there to get a smile out of you. He's got an eye for when you're a little more tense or stressed than usual.

He doesn't use it in excess either, he's sweet and soft about it, not as casual with the pet names as some would think.

Oh, but don't take it for granted because he can and will tease you. You like to blame him for your ability to keep your guard up for so long and for his ability to somehow find new ways to break it again and again.

And while you think it's a horribly corny pet name, you know he has nothing but good intentions, and you can't ignore the way it makes your heart flutter.

He loves it too, he's a sucker for giving and receiving cheesy nicknames, stuff that really gets a reaction out of you but doesn't cross the line.

"If you don't like it, then why dinnae you give me a different thing to call you?" Cue the McTavish SmirkTM, and you wonder what he has planned this time. And like how you got yourself into this relationship- you decide to humor him.

"You already call me 'love' and 'sugar', I don't think you need any more to torment me with, McTavish."

"I don't know... I'm thinkin' 'my fiancé' sounds pretty damn good."

"But I'm not your-"

Oh.

Oh.

Ghost

You're thrown into the air and onto the ground after a blast hits, one so loud that you're left hearing nothing for several seconds.

Out of the chaos, you hear Ghost call your name, and you try to stand only to fall back into a pair of arms.

"It's me- it's me." He lowers you down onto his lap and looks over you, "Fucking hell... what did they do to you?"

You realize what he's talking about when you try to hold yourself while gasping for breath, but find a cold metal rod jutting out of your abdomen.

"Okay, I'm gonna get you up, we're gonna get to the others-" He halts when you scream out in pain and lowers you back down.

"Nonono- please Simon, it hurts, it fucking hurts so much I can't-"

His heart breaks at the sound of you choking on words, holding you closer, and trying to reassure you (and himself because he's never had his heart pounding so hard and his mask feel so damn suffocating and god dammit he can't afford to lose someone again-)

"I know, I know, I got you babygirl, I got you. It's alright now, but I'm not leaving you like this. You're gonna be alright, it's gonna be okay."

You can only nod your head, tightening your hold around his neck when he carries you. It feels pathetic every time you let out a yelp or sob of pain, but Simon's patient, he's constantly giving you reassurance and letting you know that there's just a bit more left to go. At some point, you let exhaustion take over your body.

Thankfully, you wake up laying in an infirmary bed, with a sleepless Simon at your side. "How are you feeling?" He asks.

"Could be better," You cringe at how hoarse your voice is and thank Simon when he gives you a cup of water, "You seem worse than me to be honest."

"Yeah? 'n whose fault is that? Oh right, the one who took a pipe to the stomach."

Rolling your eyes, you try to remember the last things you saw before blacking out and smirk to yourself when it comes back to you.

"So, since when were you a "babygirl" type of guy? Is it a common thing in Manchester, or are you just that soft for me, Lieutenant?"

"Maybe I should've just left you there." He groans, and you scoff, laughing as you shove at him. Even if he's shit with words, you know deep down he would never have the guts to do so.

Only a fool would.

König

Let's be honest, he'd only really say it after you've said it to him.

You don't push him, knowing he just has trouble trying to get a natural feel for it and it's not a huge deal. Plus, you already adore all the other names he's given you, most of which are more familiar and natural for him to say with them being in his native language.

Unfortunately, one night at the bar, you find someone else directing the particular nickname at you.

"Hey babygirl, what's a cutie like you doing all alone here?"

But fortunately, you were in fact, not alone.

Konig rises from the barstool behind you and his height alone should have the person pissing their pants.

"You should mind whose 'babygirl' you're talking to, arschloch."

You know what? Close enough.

You turn back to check on König and wow, that. Is. A. Sight.

König's chest rises and falls with his aggravated breathing and you find yourself lost in how intense his glare is while he watches the person scamper away. His words are on a loop in your head with how the rasp and snarl in his voice have your stomach twisting and your heart running laps.

You'd never admit it to him, but you have to repress all of your urges whenever he gets like this on the battlefield. Christ.

"You alright?" You breathlessly sigh, wrapping a hand around his.

His tension instantly melts at your touch and you smile at that.

"I should be asking you that..." He murmurs, almost ashamed as if he had any reason to be.

"Oh I'm more than fine now."

An idea comes to you.

"I'd be even better if you can tell me what you just said to them, perhaps in private? I don't think I can hear with how noisy it is in here" You snicker, tugging him closer.

You just absolutely know he's burning under that hood when his eyes go wide.

"I'm just kidding, liebe," you chuckled, taking another sip of your drink, "But honestly? That was kinda hot. Whaddya say we get outta here and cuddle tonight?"

His response is a quick and eager nod, making you laugh and whisk him away to your quarters.

Roach

Ah if only you weren't such a curious soul.

You overheard some of your teammates call each other "babygirl", which made you wonder if there was a sign for it.

You blurted out this question to your boyfriend, not thinking much of it because, hey, you always asked him about signs you weren't sure of or hadn't quite learned yet, or in this case, pure curiosity.

He stares at you dumbfounded before signing the words.

"Oh, so it's literally just 'baby' and 'girl'?"

He nods, "Yeah. What, do you want me to start calling you that or something?"

He lets out stifled laughs when he sees the look of realization on you before you throw your burning face in your hands.

"I'm a damn idiot."

"I know you are."

You nearly strangle him for that comment.

You make him forget about the conversation, but he keeps the thought in the back of his head for future reference because oh you are so gonna regret this >:)

After a mission, he comes up to you and asks, "How'd it go? My babygirl didn't get too roughed up this time, did you?"

"No, I'm good, wasn't a huge bust-" You stop organizing your gear right then and there, mentally replay what he signed, and slowly turn your head, narrowing your eyes at him. "-you little shit! I told you forget about that!"

"But you like it, don't you? You're trying so hard not to smile right now!" He gushes.

"Sanderson, I'm gonna kill you!" You run after him, chasing him around before tackling him down to the ground.

"I could get used to this." He muses, "Maybe you should call me babygirl, kinda suits me too. Oh! We should get matching patches, don't you think?"

"..."

"Wait where are you going—"

Hound

This time, you had been separated from your team for days after a mission had gone horribly wrong, with no way to communicate otherwise you'd all be jeopardized before you could be rescued.

You didn't even know if there was a rescue.

Just your luck, an enemy had you cornered with the audacity to use your own gun against you. And it was your last one, too. You brace for impact only to see them get knocked out while a voice called out your name.

It was Hound. They immediately run up to you, checking you all over, hands hovering around you worriedly, "Did he hurt you? Christ, they told me that you'd be in danger if I went but shit, how am I supposed to wait when—"

They stopped the moment you began to tremble, instantly pulling you into a tight embrace, and tucking your head in their shoulder.

"Hey hey, c'mere, it's okay. I'm here now, you're gonna be alright, it's okay." He softly repeats, and you weep in relief. "Oh babygirl... they can't hurt you anymore, I promise."

It was warm and safe.

You were warm and safe.

Hound spends the evening tending to you (you told them they didn't have to, it wasn't like you had major injuries), doing your paperwork for you, getting you food, and cleaning you up.

But all you want is to get your mind away from the events of the past few days, a distraction to feel good, feel safe, and feel loved, and he happily complies with your every need for the night.

"Figured you'd need some help after last night... sorry about that." They sheepishly mumble.

You wake up the next morning in your shared quarters, sore but in a pleasant way. The door opens and it's none other than your partner with a plate from the mess hall.

You pull them down for a quick kiss and thank them, telling them not to worry about it as you take the plate.

"You need anything else babygirl, or-"

You choke on a piece of scrambled egg, and they're already rubbing your back, holding back laughter.

"Whoops, should've waited until you were done, I didn't think you'd get so- I mean I thought after last night—" He's practically giggling now and while you'd normally relish in such a rare sight, you whine at him.

"But seriously, if you need anything, I'm there in a heartbeat."

You nod and thank whatever higher being out there for such a patient partner.

a/n pt2: hope the ghost and hound bbygirls enjoyed the "creative liberties" I took because I know I did teehee- anyways lmk how y'all feeling after that :)))

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Do you have any tips on how characters react after a heat in the moment first kiss?

Hey there! I'm so glad you reached out about depicting characters' reactions after an unexpected first kiss. This is such an important and tricky moment to get right in any romance story.

I don't talk enough about romance, so I've very excited to write a blog post about this, especially since in almost all my writing projects I utilize a romantic subplot.

Understanding the Emotional Impact

First things first, it's important to recognize just how powerful and transformative that first kiss can be for your characters, even if it's spur-of-the-moment or unplanned. A kiss like that has the power to shift the entire dynamic between two people, unlocking a whole new level of vulnerability, intimacy, and emotional intensity.

Think about it - your characters have probably been building up tension, attraction, and unspoken feelings for each other over time. And then, in one electric moment, all of that comes bubbling to the surface. Suddenly, everything changes. The world seems to slow down, and all that matters is the connection between them.

Whether your characters have been pining for this moment or it takes them completely by surprise, that first touch of their lips is guaranteed to trigger a whirlwind of emotions. Excitement, nervousness, relief, uncertainty - it's a veritable emotional rollercoaster.

And of course, the way each character responds will depend on their individual personality, past experiences, and overall mindset. A shy, cautious character might be utterly flustered and overwhelmed. A bold, adventurous one might be thrilled and eager for more. And someone with trust issues or a painful romantic history might panic and pull away.

The key is to really get inside your characters' heads and hearts, understanding how this monumental moment resonates with them on a deep level. That's what's going to make their reactions feel raw, authentic, and achingly real for your readers.

Crafting Nuanced Reactions

(The examples I use are very cliche, and personally not my writing style, but they're simply for your reference to get a rough idea of what I'm trying to indicate)

Okay, now that we've established the emotional gravity of that first kiss, let's dive into some specific techniques for portraying your characters' reactions. Here are a few ideas:

Focus on the sensations. When a character experiences something as intense as an unexpected first kiss, their physical responses are going to be heightened. Capture the racing heartbeat, the trembling hands, the tingling skin - all those little visceral details that make the moment palpable.

For example (Very cliche but, just for reference): "Her lips were soft and warm against his, sending a shiver down his spine. His heart pounded in his ears, fingers trembling as he cupped her cheek, hardly daring to breathe."

Showcase their inner turmoil. Don't just describe what's happening externally - give us a window into your character's jumbled thoughts and feelings. Are they overjoyed? Confused? Terrified? Let us see the full emotional spectrum unfolding.

Like this: "Panic rose in her chest as his lips met hers, every nerve ending firing at once. What was happening? This couldn't be real - it had to be some kind of dream. But the way her skin tingled, the way her stomach fluttered, told her this was very much reality."

Use body language and subtle reactions. Characters don't always have to respond with grand, over-the-top gestures. Sometimes the most meaningful reactions come through in the little, unconscious movements - a shy glance, a gentle touch, a subtle smile.

For instance: "For a long moment, they simply stared at each other, frozen. Then, slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, eyes sparkling with a mix of wonder and delight."

Lean into the awkwardness. First kisses, even magical ones, can also be a little clumsy and uncertain. Embrace that sense of fumbling vulnerability - it makes the moment all the more endearing and relatable.

Something like: "Their noses bumped as they leaned in, hearts racing. He hesitated, suddenly unsure, but then her hand slid around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Their lips met in a tentative, exploratory kiss that sent tingles down his spine."

Contrast reactions between characters. If you have two characters with very different personalities or perspectives, lean into that contrast to create compelling dramatic tension. How might a guarded, cynical character react compared to an optimistic romantic?

For example: "She froze, eyes wide with shock. This was the last thing she'd expected - to be kissed by her best friend, of all people. Panic fluttered in her chest, desperate to pull away. But then she saw the vulnerability in his gaze, the slight tremble in his hands, and her heart melted. Slowly, hesitantly, she kissed him back."

The key is to get creative, have fun, and be able to let your characters' unique voices and perspectives shine through.

Additional Resources

And of course, don't hesitate to reach out if you have any other questions! I'm always happy to chat more about anything writing related.

--Rin T.

[bigification]

Bear Darts

"Yes! They finally came in." I say in excitement as I pick up a package in front of my dorm. I rush inside and rip open the package. 8 small darts with a weird green liquid inside and a bamboo tube. "There's no way they actually work right?" The website seemed so legit and the concept seemed too good to be true. "Guaranteed to transform any man into a certified bear." Was the tag line. I am tempted to jab one of them into my arm right now, but I'm too nervous. What if it's just poison or something? I should at least test it out, it'll be fun anyway.

I stuff the darts and the bamboo into my bag and head to campus. Who to start with? Mr. Henderson could be a good option. I don't like him so if it goes wrong I don't care, and he's pretty scrawny so I'll be able to see any difference. I decide to head to Mr. Henderson's office, figuring he'll be a good test run.

On the way, I come across a raccoon rummaging through garbage in an alley, and an idea sparks through my mind. If it's that harmful, it would hurt a raccoon, so I might as well test them out. I pull out a dart and the bamboo and head into the alley. I slot the dart into the end of the bamboo, line up the shot, and blow as hard as I can. I hear the swoosh of the dart piercing the wind. The dark hits the raccoons back and it barely reacts, as if it's just a measly mosquito bite. The green liquid drains out of the dart, and I wait for a reaction. It doesn't take long for the animal to start twitching. It's hard to tell in the shadow of the alley, but my kind went straight to the worst, it was poisonous. But then I saw its body change shape. It wasn't much, but its scrawny limbs grew thicker, its belly grew rounder, and its grubby little paws grew larger. By the end, it still resembled a raccoon, just larger and meatier than you'd expect a raccoon to be. Could this be real? I continue watching as the raccoon resumes its normal activities.

I let out a chuckle in excitement at what was yet to come. I walk back out of the alley and speed walk to Mr. Henderson's office, this was gonna be good. The website said results may vary depending on what the person looked like before the transformation, and based on other things like genetics. Essentially it's random. But I was still hoping to see Mr. Henderson with a big hairy gut spilling out of his shirt.

I finally make it to his office and I slowly open his door just a sliver. He's standing in the middle of the room, looking over at the wall to the left of the door. I feel confident enough that he's not able to see the door from the way he's looking. I look over to see he's very concentrated on a bunch of photos hung up on the wall, which makes sense as he's a photography prof.

I take a mental image of the prof before I line up the shot, so I can compare the before and after in my mind. He's got buzz cut and a bushy salt and pepper beard. His frame is quite skinny but I can see a little bit of a belly and moobs under his shirt. That shirts definitely not doing him any favours, I wonder what it will look like on him after. His arms and legs are scrawny, with little fat or muscle on them. He's also wearing some camo shorts.

Now with his image locked in my head, I prepare a dart and like up the shot. Same with the raccoon, I blow as hard as I can and the dart lodges into the side of his belly. He flinches for a moment, but then stops in places. I can see his muscle twitching, as if they're cramping and freezing him in place. It all happens so quickly. It starts with his belly. His small belly grows in waves of soft fat, each wave packing dozens of pounds. Each wave makes his gut jiggle more and more as it grows rounder and rounder. His gut and his love handles spill over his waistline as his shirt rides up, revealing a stretched out belly button. Soon enough, it appears as though he stuffed a small beach ball into his stomach with how large it is. Though it is soon complemented by a growing pair of soft moobs. If what he had before were moobs, he now has full on man tits. They're soft and round, pressing tightly against his shirt. I can even see his nipples harden under the shirt. Next to fall is his ass. His once flat derriere quickly plumped up similar to his belly. Waves of fat perked up his ass as it threatened to rip through his shorts. The button on his pants popped off and flung across the office in dramatic fashion, leaving his fly wide open. His arms and his legs thickened slightly as a layer of fat covered them, though they stayed quite skinny in proportion to his body. Also, in the process, his beard had grown out and became almost all grey.

The entire time I could feel my dick riding up into my waist band. This was so much hotter than I expected it to be. I want to go in there and get my hands on that fatass so bad, but I have to have restraint. His muscles have stopped twitching and he seems back in control, though he still seems laser focused on the wall of photos. He reaches to scratch his belly and seems a bit shocked at the fact that he's scratching skin rather than shirt. "Huh, I coulda sworn this fit yesterday, musta shrunk in the wash." He shrugs, completely oblivious to the changes his body had just gone through. I don't know if I find it more or less hot that he seems to not care that he's a fatass. I don't have time to think about it though, as he starts to turn towards the door. I quickly grab my bag and run. I'll get to see him for photography class tomorrow anyway.

I think about who I want to hit next. I've got 6 darts left and plenty of profs on my list. Now that it seems safe, I'm more willing to go for profs I like. So I think one of the hottest prof off the top of my head. Mr. Ahmed. God he's hot. He's got perfectly toned skin, a thick black beard, and beautiful eyes. The only thing is he's quite skinny, and I like my men thick. So this is the perfect opportunity, and his office is close by.

I arrive at his office and see him just on his phone. My mouth salivates as I think about what I'm gonna do to him. I pull out a dart and shoot it. It lands right into his biceps and the green liquid rapidly drains from the dart. My hand instinctively drifts to my crotch as I wait in anticipation.

He froze in place, just like Henderson. But this time it started from his arm instead of his belly, it must be from wherever the dart hits. His once skinny arm swells, ripping his sleeve in the process. His forearm followed suit, growing a thick pelt of hair in the process as his delicate hand grew into a monstrous man hand. The transformation continued into his shoulders, then to his chest. His shoulders broadened, pushing his small shirt to its limits. Then his suddenly exploded outward, tearing straight through what was left of his shirt. Thick muscles now lay under thick man tits as they hand over his stomach. His already thick chest hair became more dense as his nipples grew large and sensitive. His other arm quickly grew just as large as the first, evening out his hulking body. His exposed belly went from flat to large and rotund in a matter of seconds, though it remained quite solid from strong muscle that grew below it. His gut befell a similar fate to the rest of his body, being covered in a layer of dark hairs.

His lower half quickly grew to match his upper half. Fat and muscle flooded into his ass and thighs until his dress pants ripped in dramatic fashion, leaving him in nothing but his extremely tight underwear, leaving little to the imagination. The legs continued to grow, and his feet seemed to grow at least five sizes, busting out of his shoes. Finally his facial features began to change. The rather young professor looked as if he aged 15 years in just moments as wrinkles and blemishes riddled his face, and his hairline receded slightly. His face also seemed to become a bit chubbier, matching his hulking gut.

He finally unfroze, seeming unfazed by changes in his body. He reached to stretch some of his muscles, I'm sure they're sore after such an intense transformation. But he quickly realized his lack of clothing and left to a backroom to find some. The idea that he wouldn't be able to find any clothes that remotely fit him made it all the more hot for me, but I got out before I got caught.

I was on top of the world, there was no way I would stop now. I thought about who to find next, and the choice seemed obvious. Mr. Salim, how could I forget the health and fitness prof. Ive never had him, but damn it is tempting to take a fitness class just to get to look at him more. He kinda looked like Mr. Ahmed but buff, cocky, and far more charming.

I quickly made it to the fitness building and found his office. I peaked in and saw him working out with his earbuds in, this was my shot. Without hesitation I load a dart and shoot. I chuckle quietly as I see the dart lodge into his ass. He goes to scratch his ass but fails to notice the dart, soon after he drops his weights and freezes in place. His already perky ass grows slightly, but not as much as I'd expect. Still enough to pants ride down his ass a bit, revealing a bright blue jockstrap. Of course Mr. Salim would wear a jockstrap. His thighs grow significantly, bulging with muscle to the point of ripping his pants. The rest of his legs follow suit, growing thick calves and massive feet.

I can see under his shirt that his waist is tightening up, which is surprising given that he's the first one to not get fat. A little disappointing if you ask me, but I'm not disliking what I see so far. His shoulders broaden and his chest puffs out, ripping right through his shirt. His arms nearly double in size, making his look like a bodybuilder as his hands grow to match. His face seemed to age as some of his hair turned grey. As he aged, his already hairy body became even more so, covering most of his body in thick salt and pepper hair. Even his stubble grew out into a thick silver beard.

Mr. Salim put down his weights, got up, and walked to the mirror in his office. He turned so he could see his ass in the mirror and snapped a photo.

A part of me was hoping to see him become a fat slob, something about fat gym teachers always got me going. But I certainly wouldn't complain about this view.

The health and fitness building is right beside geography and history, so I should head there. I try to think of a teacher I've had in this department. Maybe Mr. Smith? I had him for first year history and he's hot, I just remember him being a bit weird. That doesn't matter, I'm already on my way to his office.

I peak through his door and see him focused on his computer, perfect timing. I load a dart and shoot it. It hits him in the side of his thigh. Within moments I can see his jeans struggling to contain his growing legs. His jeans become even tighter as fat fills his ass, creating a loud pop sound as his belt snaps off.

His slim torso expands until he has a thick muscle gut and love handles that spill over his jeans. His chest grows into two strong but soft looking pecs that are impossible to miss through his tight shirt. His arms explode with muscle, making it look like they're gonna rip his sleeves. Finally his face fattens up a bit as a short beard covers his soft jawline.

Mr. Smith leans back in his chair and crossed his arms over his tank of a gut.

It wasn't what I expected for Mr. Smith to be honest. I expected him to turn into a big fat history teacher, but he is hotter as a muscle chub. As I'm watching, he goes to unzip his jeans. He whips out his massive dick and starts to jerk off. Damn I didn't expect Mr. Smith to be packing that, but maybe it's a side effect of the darts. I keep watching until he swivels his chair in my direction, I can't risk being caught so I leave.

I look at my watch and realize I've lost track of time, I have a math class right now. I run across the campus to my math class and quietly sit at the back of the theatre.

I quickly get bored and wonder if I should hit Mr. Derrick with a dart in the middle of the lecture. It's risky but I'm bored so fuck it. I pull out the dart and try to shoot it as quietly as possible and it hits him square in the stomach. Mr. Derrick is a very scrawny man, so I'm curious about how it's gonna effect him.

As soon as he gets hit, he stops talking and freezes in place, but weirdly enough, no one in the class seems to notice. The man's skinny body explodes with fat. At first he grows a small pot belly, then a sizable beer belly, then it settles as a giant ball gut that looks like he stuffed a beach ball down his button up. I'm surprised his shirt has ripped yet. His chest grows two man tits that are visible through his shirt. The sleeve of his jacket starts to look like stuffed sausages as his fat arms fill out all the space in them. The man's thighs thicken until his pants start to rip and his fat ass causes his fly to rip open. Finally his clean shaven face grows a thick brown beard.

He continued the lecture as if nothing had happened. His lack of awareness of his body makes even more hot. I can't believe he ended up that fat, I can see his gut spill out of his shirt each time he reaches up. And every part of his body bounces when he walks around. Eventually he ended up sitting down for the second half of the lecture, and he was often out of breath from just talking.

Once the lecture is over, I walk up to the front of the theatre and talk to Mr. Derrick.

"Hey, I've been struggling keeping up with the material lately, I was wondering if we could have a one on one session?" I ask him.

"Oh ya for sure, just come by during my office hours and I'd be happy to help." He responds. The man is practically panting at this point and I can see the sweat start to drench his beard.

"By the way, I don't think that shirt fits you anymore sir." I say just to make him uncomfortable. He just looks down, blushes, and runs off. Hobbling as fast as he can out of the theatre.

I got two darts left, I should use them wisely. The only teacher I can think of right now is Mr. Brown. His voice is so deep and buttery but his body doesn't match it, he's really skinny. I think he'd be better off as a bear anyway.

I make my way to the athletics facility, I've had him for French and English class, so I know where to find him. He works out around this time most days, so I make my way to the gym. As I walk to the gym, I see him in the corner of my eye in the showers. He's turned away from me, so I quickly take my shot, hitting him in the back. His back muscles grow and become more defined before a thick layer of fat covered them and creates thick rolls down his back. His stomach grows into a sizable belly with a thick belly button. His chest expands, first to juicy pecs, but then they slowly soften into a pair of moobs. His traps grow as his shoulders broaden, I also notice that he's getting taller, like a lot taller. He was shorter than me, but now his head is well above the shower head. His arms grow to match the rest of his hulking body.

Next his ass widened and started to sag slightly under its own weight. His thighs thickened until they rubbed together and his feet grew from a size 11 to a monstrous size 20. I also noticed his dick grow to at least 10 inches, if not more. All the while he was still getting taller, by now his shoulders were above the shower head. Finally his facial features became softer and fatter as the hair on his head fell out, although his stubble grew into a thick black beard.

As the transformation ends, Mr. Brown reaches behind him and grabs the dart out of his back. He's the only one to have noticed it. He looks at the dart for a moment, then turns toward me. I try to duck behind the wall, but I think he saw me. I hide in one of the bathroom stalls until I hear him leave, with the size of that man, it's not hard to tell where he's walking.

Once I can't hear him anymore, I rush out of the stall and grab my bag. But just as I reach the door, I bump into Mr. Brown. He's waiting at the doorway with a small green towel wrapped around his waist.

"What's this?" He says holding up one of my darts. Interestingly enough, it's a full one. The one I shot him with should be empty, so that means. Oh no. I look through my bag, the last dart is gone. Before waiting for a response, Mr. Brown just grabs my arm and jabs the dart into it.

I feel frozen in place. My clothes feel tighter and tighter until I hear them rip. I feel the warmth of the locker room air touch my bare skin. I start to feel itchy all over my body as my perspective shifts higher and higher. I feel so strong. I feel like I've grown a foot in height, but I'm still at eye level with Mr. Browns chest.

I finally gain control of my body and look down at the damage. I have thick pecs and a little bit of a belly, all covered in hair. Thick arms and legs, also covered in hair, actually my entire body is now covered in hair. And the bulge in my underwear is massive.

I turn my attention back to Me. Brown.

"Where did you get these?" He asks in his deep intimating voice. I stutter for a moment. "I'm not gonna snitch, I just got a few people I want to use it on." Mr. Brown asks. My fear turns to excitement as I realize the damage Mr. Brown and I are gonna do together.

[sc0tters]

Misconceptions and Confrontations | Jack Hughes

summary: you and Jack had never gotten on with each other but as Quinn’s best friend you were always at the lake house. So what happens when Jack thinks that there is something going on with you and Trevor?

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, fingering, swearing, use of y/n once.

word count: 2.7k

authors note: I came up with this idea at like 3 in the morning so that’s when half of it was written. I wasn’t even halfway through writing this when someone requested a different Jack smut but I liked this way too much to delete it. So there���s another one coming soon!

pt 2 | pt 3

You wouldn't sleep with him if he was the last man on earth.

Jack had practically been your archenemy since you were seven and he was six. It was that moment that he yanked at your pigtail pulling you off of the swing on the playset that you two were destined to never get along.

Funnily enough it was that same moment when Quinn helped you up that set you two on the path to being best friends.

Now Jack was 22 and you were 23 and neither one of you seemed to have any intentions on beginning to like each other any time soon.

Your relationship didn't improve when you went off to college and he went off to the development team, in fact, it seemed that now Jack only getting the time you spent together during the summers his attempts at irritating you increased tenfold.

You didn't know how a family as amazing as the Hughes' could land up with the devils spawn as a child especially when the other two were good normal people. But nevertheless you always had to remain civil with the boy for the sake of your relationship with Quinn and for your mother's relationship with Ellen.

The two moms swore three years into their eldest children's friendship that the duo would get together. It took two months after the swing incident for you two to be practically attached by the hip. Everyone just assumed that Jack had a crush on you and that's why he was acting in that way to you, the real truth though was that he simply enjoyed pissing you off.

He loved the way he was almost always guaranteed a reaction from you, even if it was the smirk that you'd send him as you would watch Quinn shut his bedroom door in his brothers face.

The Hughes family lake house was the only place you willingly went each year even when you knew that Jack was going to be there too.

This year however and much to Jacks dismay you found yourself flirting with Trevor on more than one occasion.

Trevor had been notorious for flirting with you at the house throughout the years, but this was the first that you weren't telling him to find someone interested. He was dedicated you had to give him that much.

Jack used to love watching as you would turn him down but now he was just trying to refrain from letting the contents of his stomach from coming out of his mouth each time he would catch you two. At the start of the first week it was simple hand touching, you would run your fingers along a part of the Ducks players body. But now you were sitting on his lap and had even gone as far as feed him some watermelon at one point.

As childish as it may have sounded the boy wished that his brother would step in and separate them. Jack was surprised that Quinn was so calm at the cozy sight of you and Trevor.

Little did Jack know, the only reason why Quinn was so relaxed about it all was that he really didn't care who you dated. Sure he wanted him to be a good guy, and knowing where Trevor lived made it a lot easier if he ever needed to hurt him for hurting you.

The Devils player had been so caught up in his annoyance for what was going on the he didn't even realise that the one day when he walked past the room you were in and he heard the sounds of your moans Jack thought you were with his best friend. But if he had stayed in that hallway for a second or two longer, he would have realised that you were alone and it was your hand that was getting you off.

The final night at the lake house had quickly come upon the group and to celebrate you guys used Jack and Quinn's lake house to throw a party.

The event had been a total success, drinks were pouring, people were singing, even Quinn was dancing at one point in the night. But one thing you always noticed was the way that Jack just glared at Trevor. Even when the prettiest girl at the lake tried to talk to the middle Hughes boy his eyes didn't move.

You thought that it was childish from the devils player, somehow he had been able to avoid saying a single word to you the entire night yet he still managed to get under your skin.

So when Jack made his way upstairs presumably to the bathroom you followed wanting to give him a talking to "I'll be right back," you mumbled squeezing Trevor's thigh as you left your space on the couch on the tail of the forward.

The bathroom door almost shut but you were able to get you hand in the way of it "what the hell is your problem?" You asked clearly letting the alcohol that was in your system cloud your judgement.

Jacks eyes went wide as he looked at you "you're the one who walked in on me," he reminded her feeling like he wasn't the person who should have been receiving questions.

You grumbled something incoherent under your breath "you keep on glaring at Z when he's done nothing wrong!" You yelled at the younger boy as you shut the bathroom door behind you, making sure to lock it in the process.

You didn't want him to leave before the conversation ended "you're the one who's sleeping with him." The hockey player shot back as he began to pee not caring that you were still there.

If there had been about four shots less of vodka in your system maybe you would have left "I'm not sleeping with him," you furrowed your eyebrows at the accusation wondering where it could have possibly came from.

That announcement both made Jack feel lighter but also like he wanted to shove his head in the sand "you were the one I heard walk past!" You let out a gasp as he washed his hands.

The devils player had never been soft footed "you heard me?" He asked letting the soft fabric of the towel dry his hands.

You snickered to yourself as you leaned against the door "should have known it was you," your voice was soft as you shook your head "if it was Z he would have done something about it." The jab at him made him quickly close any distance between you two.

He pressed his lips into a fine line "Trevor is an action man, you aren't." You shrugged as you locked eyes with him seeing how his scowl hardened honestly made your knees buckle.

You knew that when you woke up in the next morning anything that happened from this moment on, you were blaming on the alcohol.

Jack ignored the alarm bells that rang in his head as his mouth watered at the sight of your lips "yeah I am," he pouted almost hurt by your statement.

It was this specific moment that you crossed the point of no return "prove it." And with those seven letters his lips were on yours, tongues clashed in a messy fight that against was going to be blamed on the alcohol.

He tapped your leg motioning for you to jump as he hooked his hands under your legs before he took you to the counter and let you sit in it "love this dress." He confessed as his hands ran up your thighs going dangerously close to your core.

You let out a moan as your stomach felt on fire “do something already.” You complained as your pulled away from him wanting to clench your legs together at the view of his now swollen lower lip.

Jack smirked as he ran his fingers through your hair “patience is a virtue sweetheart,” he repeated one of your favourite lines that you used to tell him when he would rush you to get out of the bathroom at the lake house.

Furrowing your eyebrows you sent him a glare “I’m sure Z would be happy to fu-” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before Jack shoved two of his fingers into your mouth “suck,” he groaned at the sight of your lips wrapping around the two digits practically treating it like you were sucking a dick.

So you let your tongue swirl around the fingers as you contemplated all of your actions. But before you could continue his fingers were pulling from your mouth “fuck,” fell from his lips as he watched the trail of saliva break and land on your breasts.

The hockey player placed his other hand on your cheek “got warm you up for my cock okay?” When your head repeatedly nodded he took your lips into a kiss before he pulled your panties to the side easing his fingers into your core.

His were longer and thicker than yours so you were feeling things that you had never known that you could feel just from being fingered “shit.” Your head fell back giving the boy access to your neck where he peppered it in kissing.

Eyes screwed shut you knew that it was game over the second he placed his thumb on your clit. You were actually rather surprised that he not only knew where it was but also knew what to do with it. But the thoughts shit talking him quickly stopped when he placed the perfect amount of pressure on the little bud.

Jack smirked as he looked at the sight of you “what would Quinn say if he knew that you were up here about to get fucked?” He asked angling his fingers different as he hopped to make you feel a new type of sensations.

Most days you had a problem using your filter “he would probably think that it was Z doing it,” you matched the chuffed look that was on his face.

But that look quickly dropped when the boy pulled his fingers out of you “up,” he mumbled as he motioned to you to get off of the counter.

You face turned into one of confusing as you listened to him “you’re gonna watch yourself get fucked,” he explained as he raised your dress up to your stomach so that he could pull your panties down.

The lace hit the ground as Jack went to a black box that was in a drawer to get a condom “you knew you were gonna get fucked tonight huh?” You asked seeing his shorts fall down with his boxers to reveal his fully hardened cock.

Your mouth watered as you tried to remain calm “something tells me you’ve been wanting this,” the boy teased as he rolled the condom over his cock.

You gripped at the countertop in front of you “you wanna hurry up and do it then or what?” You grumbled growing impatient.

For what ever reason Jack just found this amusing “always had such a mouth on you,” he muttered placing a kiss on your neck before he locked eyes with you in the mirror “you sure you want this?” The boy ran his protected cock over your clit a few times “Jack if you don’t hurry up I swear to-” you were quickly cut off as he grounded his hips into yours.

Your head fell forward “god,” you groaned as he stopped moving giving you the time to adjust to his size.

He leaned forward “it’s just me honey,” he placed a warm kiss below your earlobe.

If he wasn’t currently deep inside of you, you would have rolled you eyes at him but you feared what it would cause him to do “just move please.” You begged as you were desperate to some form of a release today.

Jack nodded grabbing onto your hips as he began to slid in and out of you “you like getting fucked when all of your friends are downstairs?” He asked smirking as he watched your boobs bounce each time he thrusted inside of you as you had decided to forgo a bra with your dress.

Your mind was hazy “words or I stop honey,” the boy warned causing your eyes to snap open.

Met with the sight of his cock grounding you out repeatedly you couldn’t help it when you shuddered “you fuck me so good,” you called out not being able to take your eyes off of the mirror.

Without a single moment of care you were continuing to stroke his ego “like watching what it is like to be fucked good?” He sucked at your neck in an attempt to mark you that actually ended up causing you to clench around him “like this pussy was made for me.” Jack groaned as his head rested on the crook of your neck swearing that nobody could ever make him feel that good every again.

You were in this state of bliss as your legs began to wobble. You moved your one hand from the counter to your clit as you were desperate to feel some your orgasm fast “move your hand,” Jack warned but you never listened.

So he repeated himself again but this time making sure to softly tap your hand “move your hand before I fucking stop,” his tone was serious enough to cause you to listen letting your hand move back to the counter that it was once on.

Of course though the hockey player didn’t leave your clit unattended as his hand had taken over what you had been doing “you keep clenching around me like that and I’m gonna come,” he confessed not realising just how close you actually were.

You sucked at your teeth trying to come up with a way to say it “I’m gonna,” you announced cutting yourself off with a moan as you could feel the way that his dick throbbed inside of you.

The sound was like music to the boys ears “not yet,” he shook his head as he wanted to push you a little bit further.

Jack didn’t know when he would get another cause to do this so he wasn’t going to let the opportunity just roll past him “be a good girl and wait for me.” His tone was stern as he sped up his pace wanting to join you in that state.

It felt like mission impossible, you couldn’t hold on even if you tried “I can’t,” you now had tears welling in your eyes as you were teetering on the fine like between coming and not.

For the first time since he started fucking you, Jack had left your his alone as he had one hand on your clit and the other had just moved into your hair.

He tugged at it causing you head to rear against his shoulder. You two were now looking at each other directly, no mirror between you, no nothing. So he leaned down “come for me,” his words were soft and just as your mouth opened to let out a moan he captured your lips in a kiss. The hockey player fucked you through your orgasm and just as yours ended and you clenched around him for the longest time that you had yet, it spurred on his own orgasm.

You pulled away from him “Jack,” you whimpered out as the feeling of overstimulation was quickly approaching you.

It caused the boy to laugh as he slid out of you “enjoyed that?” He asked with a smirk as he placed you back on the bathroom counter when your legs began to act like jelly.

Before you could respond there was a knock at the door “Jack?” It was Quinn’s voice and it caused your eyes to go wide.

Jack almost forgot to respond as he was still taking in your post fuck look “yeah,” he groaned as you had kicked his knee.

Quinn had been searching for you for the last five minutes “you know where y/n is?” He asked desperately trying to find you.

You had to hold in a gasp as you were worried what the middle Hughes brother might say “haven’t seen her,” the Devils player lied as he sent you a smirk.

The look he sent you was silently saying you owe me.

So something made her realise that whatever this was with Jack wasn’t going to be over just yet.

[threewaysdivided]

New Desktop Dash, No Bueno

Okay so, new dash layout on desktop.

As seems to be a common reaction: not a fan.

Let's talk about some of the issues:

1. Really visually cluttered

The new sidebar crowds out the dashboard content and the bright blue popup notifications (now at the side AND top) and create-post bar pull your eyes in different directions. There is no space for the eye to rest on anymore - it's all noise. The end result is that everything flattens - there's no focal point anymore.

It's also pretty overwhelming - even for someone like me - so I can't imagine it would be very user-friendly to someone who was photosensitive or struggled with visual overload (especially when paired with the high-contrast 'true blue' default site palette and animated icons for the changes-on-tumblr/staff-picks/trending buttons).

2. The activity pop-up now covers dashboard content

This is really bad from a usability standpoint. In the old layout the activity pop-up used to drop down over the recommended blogs sidebar. Now it actively gets in the way of looking at core content. The dash is why we are here, burying it like this is baffling.

The search bar now drops down over the recommended blogs banner instead, but where the old design had non-critical space on each side of the dashboard to visually allow both features to pop in, this new layout is way worse for efficiency. And for what? Having a rarely-used former drop-down menu now permanently active? The old banner with quick-links for the key use-features (notes, messages, askbox) made much more design sense.

It also means that the activity pop-up gets now completely covered by the blog pop-up that opens when you click the notification, so double demerit there. 0/10.

3. It's harder to navigate to the activity page, and the new page-stretch means you can't see new notes without scrolling down

That first bit is kind of a nitpick but cramming the 'See everything' link down at the bottom of a browser window isn't a great navigation choice. (Again, the visual signifiers and eye-direction in this new design are incredibly poor.)

That the main activity page now requires you to scroll to even see the top note due to the new display ratio is really egregious. It makes another key site feature just slightly less convenient and accessible in a very irritating way. Bad choice.

4. The new ratio pushes the Radar and Main Sponsored slot completely off-screen

This one is directed the tumblr staff: that's also a bad choice, guys. That's your main ad-slot for people loading into Tumblr so hiding it is going to hurt both your ad-impressions and your ability to promote the ad-free option. The new layout ratio also means that the in-dash ads are going to be a lot more invasively screen-filling - and let's be real most users will either add-block or leave before purchasing ad-free. I have no idea what the new layout is trying to achieve but if ad optimisation is the goal then this ain't it, chief.

To be honest I cannot comprehend the rationale for this change. I guess it's visually a bit more like Twitter... but that site is currently being demolished from the inside by poor management decisions so maybe it's not the best aesthetic to be aping.

Well then, what do?

Okay so, new dash bad. And so, in true Tumblr spirit: we complain. However, to get results we must deploy the art of kvetching productively.

If you want the old dash back (or at least, a better new-dash design that corrects some of these big weaknesses) what you should do is head over to https://www.tumblr.com/support and lodge a feedback ticket pointing out the problems. The more users who do that, the more likely you are to see an effective response.

Remember, tagging @staff and @support in posts won't fix this. There's no guarantee they'll see it among the notes barrage.

Also: please don't be rude or abusive when you lodge tickets. Whoever is manning those blogs and inboxes probably isn't the person who forced through this change. Save an intern, be polite.

Go forth in disgruntlement to keep this hellhole a hellhome.

[jazeswhbhaven]

Theory Time!!! (please don't criticize me too hard on this I'm only throwing caution to the wind)

⚠There are spoilers below the cut from Chapter 7 and other parts of the game new players may have missed or not read yet, proceed at your own risk⚠

Let's begin with the last part of the sub-story. There was not much happening, a friendly day of Ppyong hanging out with the bestie and then....

This stood out to me. He was already acting out of character earlier in the sub story for this chapter after he ended up in the hospital. Before then he was perfectly fine and behaving "as normal". What is it that he wants to forget? Hasn't his life been pretty standard for a average man growing up in SK? He also doesn't do anything too bad, so one starts to question...

Also, beforehand, Minhyeok truthfully never did want to know much about what happens in Hell other than the random question he asked back in Chapter 4 about death when he was visiting Ra-On's parents' graves. *keep this in mind I'm going to mention it later*

Now, when he mentions this here it's a big fucking clue that something is not right. Usually asking hypotheticals like this is prepping the other for the real question/confession just in case they might have a bad reaction to being told the truth. It seems though that Ppyong affirmed his worries that he would be friends with someone who isn't a devil as long as they were on Hell's side. Like Samael (Leamas). But then...it happens....

Minhyeok is fucking gone right before he was about to say something incredibly important and could change the dynamic of his and Ppyong's friendship. What's more is that I'm guessing that right around the time that Ra-On and the others found the Minhyeok child version from what was said here.

And then....this.

This is a big cliffhanger and a huge clue that something is going to happen to Minhyeok to where there will no longer be moments like we saw before between him and Ppyong. Now, I am quite sure this doesn't mean "death" in the way that's typical. This could mean that this version of Minhyeok will no longer exist and this is where my theories come in---->

Theory A: Minhyeok is Ra-On's Guardian Angel

So if go all the way back to beginning, Minhyeok jumped in front of Gabriel's attack to protect Ra-On

"I don't have hard feelings for you"

He says the same thing to Minhyeok before slashing him across the chest in an instant. To me, since the beginning I thought the phrase as a bit odd considering when would Gabriel had seen Minhyeok before?

Unless he absolutely has

Gabriel is not against killing his own people. Neither are his brothers. This is shown plenty times in other instances. Minhyeok originally being a guardian angel for Ra-On since their parents death would be possible because angels, like Leamas have decided to go rouge and no longer do the bidding of "God's plan" if it meant murdering those you loved.

Minhyeok as a Guardian Angel for Ra-On could simply be...over time and each generation he's manifested as a human so he could keep a close eye on the descendants of Solomon. Perhaps before he was Minhyeok, he was someone else, and in the very beginning he was originally an angel who fell in love with Solomon and vowed to protect his descendants in any shape or form.

Now, that's really throwing some stuff out there based on this interaction but don't worry I've got other stuff too to help my thought process based on what happened after he was slashed.

Classic.

But Satan confirmed it. Minhyeok is out of the building. Using human logic...and the amount of time it probably took for Satan and Gabriel to do their thing, he'd been sitting there for possibly over five minutes or more pretty much "dead". Any human gone for that long is guaranteed to be gone. And in the rules of death for any movie I've seen...when you do ask for a loved one to come back, they aren't themselves. Think "Pet Semetary" rules.

But even after the contract was sealed between Satan and Ra-On, he was there to take them anyway regardless of what contract they may or may not have wanted to form.

And there's Minhyeok acting pretty much like himself. Nothing out of the ordinary except this huge scar on his chest.

Now I'm going to take you back to the Halloween event. I don't have specific screenshots for this because I was a dummy and didn't record it 💀 But follow me the best possible.

During Minhyeok's visit to Hell with Ppyong by his side, it was very strange that with every single angel attack, he only suffered scratches and bruises. There's explosions, weapons, and he's defenseless and yet...he didn't immediately die.

THEN, Minhyeok runs into each Seraphim. Michael avoided him, Raphael attacked him and threw him into a wall but then decided...nah I won't. Then Gabriel yet again tried to kill him but this time it didn't work due to the contract Ra-On made and it overriding the damage Gabriel's scythe brings...to where Minhyeok can not be killed by it ever again. Gabriel decides to pack it up though frustrated because he ofc was unaware of said contract ever being made on Minhyeok in the first place.

Here's where my Guardian Angel theory also gets somewhat supported in a strange way...

Minhyeok must have been under Gabriel's rule, hence why he just keeps trying to kill him because he went against God in the first place. Also it appears that Gabriel only focuses on things he deems important so anything else might get ignored or tucked away so he doesn't remember all the details correctly. I think his speech pattern is not only a part of his personality, but him truly trying to remember if he already said something or did something before.

The reason the other two Seraphim didn't bother touching him, is that they are aware of his purpose and his status after seeing the slash mark glow on his chest. (yes it was glowing apparently)

Ya'll are in luck I found this screenshot in one of my old as fuck posts lol

You see how he's perfectly fine??? I even questioned back then how could he possibly be okay after being fucking thrown through a brick building by Raphael who could clearly kill him in a second flat.

yeahhhhh yeahhh something's up

But the thing about it, is remember Satan said Minhyeok wouldn't remember too much of anything after being revived and the thing is Minhyeok does end up talking with Gabriel and he does remember him and Gabriel remembers him too.

But before anything else gets discussed Satan shows up anyway and that's done and done.

Now if you're wondering how could no one detect that Minhyeok is an angel the entire time, it's very easy.

Remember no one could clock Leamas as an angel? Everyone pretty much accepted him as a devil and went along with it. The only one who was even skeptical was Sitri but I chalked that up to him being like that in the first place.

I believe that because it was Gabriel that disguised him, that power is great enough to even trick the Kings, so imagine an angel's soul that travels through every human destined to be near Solomon's descendants? With that much time to cloak yourself, surely no one would be able to notice anything.

Minhyeok's memories, everything he went through ofc is valid. But he's had to do it often and so well, that each life he lives as a human gets eaiser, that is until...something different happens.

The reason all of this is coming to a head, is because this Guardian Angel never expected to fall in love with one of Solomon's descendants, that being Ra-On and now it's complicated.

How does this tie in with child Minheyok?

He mentions once after his fainting spell "I should have grown up sooner" and then later..."Growing up isn't always a good thing" It could be that now since Ra-On is in Hell, and he can't do much to protect them while on Earth he feels perhaps he has failed them somehow and in order to truly save them...he has to start over. The only way he can is to manifest himself in Hell as said child in order to look over them and then later he would then reveal his angel form once all is said and done.

Theory B: Minhyeok became an angel after dying

Let's start with some lore from Chapter 4's sub-story. Ppyong made it very simple that humans just die, they are not meant to go to Heaven nor Hell, their soul is just sort of floating around aimlessly.

However, the options as he states, if you have special talents or are a good being you are called to God and given a chance to either live as a devil in Hell, an angel or Heaven or forever in the human world.

Given the circumstances, that Minhyeok sacrificed himself for Ra-On, this is very much an option that happened, however there was a contract made at the same time to bring him back and this could affect things. Also, God is MIA so these terms could very much be different in Minhyeok's case.

Gabriel pretty much made the choice for him with his scythe. The contract brought him back and because of the injury now he's no longer the Minhyeok everyone knew and grew up with. The angel part of him is dormant during this time and low key to where he doesn't even realize it himself. Thus why everything went back to "normal" for him.

But in Chapter 7, once Ra-On got closer to the Ark Covenant....things were changing up. And the part of the trailer of Gabriel mentioning "did he have something to do with that" and a obscured silhouette of a mystery angel....

It's very possible that Gabriel indirectly turned Minhyeok into an angel and now he has someone to help bring Ra-On to Heaven which was part of the plan in the beginning.

This would be why we see Minhyeok suddenly acting out of character after his fainting spell, suddenly being reminiscent and also tell Minseok (the older brother) to be careful.

This would also explain Minseok not recognizing his own brother and being uneasy the entire time about his behavior being out of the ordinary. This theory is uh a little harder for me to validate but it's there!

Theory C: Minhyeok isn't Minhyeok at all, but rather a clone of an existing angel in Heaven meant to keep an eye on if any of Solomon's descendants pop up

This could easily tie in my previous theories in bits and pieces. Gabriel having no issue killing said "clone" because he knows he can just make another one and it's purpose has been fulfilled. Since Ra-On is still alive though, this causes problems for him so he has to go back and rethink.

Issue though, is that Ra-On cares for Minhyeok and asked for him to be brought back. So now this clone is running around, Gabriel is pissed about that but not too concerned which is why he's left him alone, again he's stuck on Earth, unable to get in Gabriel's way so why should he care?

When Ra-On is in the Reverse Babel Tower, Gabriel has to set everything into motion, but at the same time Minhyeok's clone is reacting to said change as well. This is when we get child Minhyeok who could very well, just a different form of Minhyeok's true angel form which isn't ready to be revealed to Ra-On just yet. This could also tie into why Minhyeok on Earth vanished. His existence is no longer necessary which is why that was the last time Ppyong would ever see him again.

Things to think about:

So...what about him giving Ra-On his cum for energy?

It's funny that none of the devils ever stated that Solomon needed both exclusively. It could be that he was just that powerful of a human and adapted so well that he didn't need both sources.

At the same time, since Minhyeok wouldn't be human in either case, perhaps it was never human essence needed in the first place, but angel essence and devil essence to keep humans thriving in Hell.

Where did Solomon get his dose of angel essence? Well...that I'm unsure of without throwing a wild ass accusation that he didn't need it because he had formed a relationship with God, and thus one night with him meant he'd have essence for eternity.

wild huh...

So what about the Kim family? It could be possible that Minhyeok didn't even exist until Ra-On's parents died. This would be why Minseok had a lapse in not recognizing him in the hospital because he never existed in the first place and it was just a false memory planted in his head.

Because think about it, after Minheyok's disappearance, and one day Ppyong tries to find Minseok as Juno only to be told "Huh? I don't have a younger brother, you must have me mistaken for someone else." and this crushes Ppyong's world. (i know sad stuff I APOLOGIZE)

I'm pretty sure that's all I had in terms of what I think is going on with Minhyeok, which tbh this ruins my idea that he and Ra-On are the OTP...because I mean what are they gonna go back to? He ain't there anymore and it's very much leaning toward the fact that Minhyeok is really an angel T^T

Like??? I wouldn't even know what to do in that instance as Ra-On I think I'd just be irritated and go to Niflheim and sleep in Belphie's room for like a week or something or have Buer do that pressure thing so I can be knocked out for a while. ANYWAYS, as I said at the very beginning these are just my theories and I don't expect any of them to make sense to everyone nor do I think it's gonna happen exactly as I stated. BUT yes, please feel free to pop in my inbox or reply with your thoughts. I'm sure we are all thinking similar in some ways.

[lucky-slice]

Do you understand how much kevin respects neil? And i don't mean when it comes to exy, like sure there's a whole lot of you're not good enough followed by you will make court bluh bluh bluh, i mean fundamentally as a human.

Kevin and Neil's conversation after the truth of Neil's father is revealed drives me absolutely insane because I think it highlights a lot about how Kevin views Neil.

so indulge me for a bit....

I think a lot of people forget, in light of Andrew choking Kevin for not telling him the truth, that Kevin's initial reaction was to tell Neil to run.

*sorry for the quality - these are all screenshots off my phone

Kevin's instinct is to tell Neil to save himself, despite what that would mean for the team's success and for Kevin himself. This is significant to me for two reasons.

It highlights that Kevin genuinely cares about Neil outside of his exy potential. For most people, this would be a pretty obvious response to finding out your teammate has a guaranteed death sentence if they stick around, so it might not seem all that meaningful, but Kevin was raised in such an environment were you continued to play no matter what - even at the risk of death. Kevin is unflinchingly callous when it comes to exy and his teammates (*see his reaction to Seth's death), but he is frantic in his concern for Neil in contrast to his fairly passive response to basically anyone else's wellbeing outside of exy. Neil's death will have no real impact on Kevin. If Neil dies or goes to the ravens, nothing changes for Kevin. He is not at a greater risk of being hurt by Riko or the Moriyama's nor will his exy career be effected. That's not to say he would tell Neil to stay if he cared about him any less, but there is a desperation that implies a depth beyond just that of a teammate.

The fact that Kevin is frantic and desperate for Neil to leave, gives weight to his decision to keep teaching Neil in the aftermath of the revelation.

Neil doesn't want to run - he wants to be Neil Josten until the end. He gave Kevin his game and now he's asking him to keep it and Kevin obliges.

This is essentially Kevin promising that he will keep Neil's secret. He will allow Neil to wear his mask and continue teaching him despite the fact that Neil is essentially a dead man walking. This, to me, is Kevin ultimately respecting Neil and his choice. At any moment, Kevin has the ability to got to Wymack or Andrew and give Neil the chance at surviving, but that would mean betraying Neil.

Some people (certainly the foxes) would view refusing Neil's request as the proper and morally correct thing to do. But I think Kevin's immediate acceptance of Neil's decision is both immensely meaningful to Neil and also a signifier of a shared understanding between to two.

Imagine how impactful it must be for Neil, who has never had autonomy over his own life and has been marked for death basically since he was born, to be told that not only will his decisions and his autonomy be respected, but there is someone who will stand by his side on the court, knowing the whole truth, until the very end.

Kevin doesn't have much to offer Neil at this point. He can not give him a future - he'll be long dead before he can ever make court, and Kevin is a coward - he is not andrew, he can't stand up against the Moriyama's or Riko or Neil's father. Kevin can not protect Neil in a way that matters. All he can do is promise to keep Neil's secret and offer him a few more months of being Neil Josten.

I'm not including this to disparage Andrew or to suggest that he does not respect Neil, but this highlights that Kevin knows the decision to keep Neil's secret is one only Kevin would make. Andrew without a doubt would immediately try to get Neil to leave or attempt to get him into protection. I'm not passing a judgement of morality on what would've been the right thing to do, but I do think Kevin's reaction is indicative of the fact that Neil and Kevin understand each other in a way that no one else really will.

Neil and Kevin are a parallel's in a number of ways. Kevin lived the life that Neil was supposed to have and they are two parts of one story.

To them exy is not a game, but it's not really about exy either. It's about deciding to stay just to play for a couple more months even though you'll wind up dead because playing means you finally get to live after years of being a ghost. It's about playing to be the best no matter what, even though the consequences are having your hand smashed and the life you know completely demolished. It's about playing even though you're shaking with fear and anxiety because you need proof that your life, whether it be running to survive or living under an abusive hand, was not a waste.

Kevin agrees to keep Neil's secret because if the roles were reversed, Kevin would like to believe that he'd be strong enough to ask Neil for the same thing. This is obviously conjecture and a heavy heavy reading between the lines, but I'd like to think there's some truth there.

Finishing up with this line because it makes me a little emotional.

Kevin starts the conversation by calling Neil "Nathaniel" and ends it by calling him Neil again. Its right there in the text, "it was a promise". Kevin is offering Neil a life that is fully his - not his father's, not Riko's, but Neil's to do with what he would like, even if its only for a couple more months. If that's not respect, than I don't know what is.

[familiarscars]

Drive You Insane | Noah Sebastian 03

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Noah Sebastian X psychiatrist!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. A mysterious new patient arrives at the Grimshade sanatorium and you have been tasked with taking care of his case.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). disturbing environment, violence, unconventional treatments, manipulation, questionable relationships, explicit sex and profanity.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Fortunately, the disturbing sound of screams could feel inspiring when used as a backdrop.

You had been buried in the files for so long that, for a moment, you wondered if you even remembered how to read. Your fingers rested on Noah’s case file, and your nails made an irritating sound against his photo as you strained to think. He was a patient who refused to speak, and you didn’t believe that would change anytime soon, making it all the harder to know him well enough to determine if he was guilty or not.

Innocence had already been discarded by everyone. His silence reinforced the majority’s verdict, but you were never one to follow the current. You preferred to tread carefully, trusting only what you saw with your own eyes and your professional intuition.

And it insisted, relentlessly, that something was wrong.

What if Noah wasn’t guilty?

You knew that specific reactions emerged from different patients under certain stimuli. Maybe he had developed post-traumatic stress after finding his girlfriend’s body displayed so brutally, causing him to withdraw, trapped in that final scene. He could simply be struggling to process the trauma, and his aggressive outbursts might be the result of associations between the crime and the real perpetrator. Maybe he even knew who the killer was. It could very well be a case of targeted vengeance against him.

But... what if he was guilty?

Noah could be hiding his own guilt behind a mask of arrogance. He knew what he had done. He showed no remorse, as the diagnosis confirmed, and perhaps his silence was a calculated provocation to the authorities, a way to manipulate the media spectacle that had grown around the tragedy.

The possibilities felt endless.

“Fuck!” you muttered, slamming your fist against the desk.

Solving a case like that would be a major feat on your résumé. It would guarantee your career and bring enough recognition that Grimshade would become nothing more than a brief chapter. That case hadn’t landed in your lap by mere coincidence. It was the perfect opportunity to unlock the future you had always wanted.

Of course, if that damned man would just talk.

Your first and only patient of the day was about to enter, and a sharp wave of nausea coursed through you as soon as you realized who it was.

Tom Harrow.

You read the name on the clipboard, drawing a deep breath before allowing him into the room. Your body still carried traces of fatigue, but you straightened your posture, forcing professionalism to smother any distractions. At Grimshade Sanatorium, every encounter was a psychological game more dangerous than the last.

When the door opened, the cold, dull light revealed a gaunt figure with broad shoulders and skin marred by fine scars and burns like knife marks. Tom sat on a metal chair bolted to the floor, his arms restrained by leather straps binding his wrists to the armrests. He smiled as you entered, revealing teeth white and sharp like a trap.

“Doctor...” His voice slid out like warm syrup—slow and sticky. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

He always pushed sarcasm to its limit, every interaction dripping with malice, which he carried not only in his gaze but in every calculated word. Tom was a sexual predator accused of killing more than 35 women over three decades without raising a single suspicion. Mistaken for a respectable citizen, he went to church on Sundays and hosted neighborhood dinners where he was adored.

At night, he scoured the internet for vulnerable women, lonely for one reason or another, luring them to a secluded cabin where he abused, tortured them with depraved fetishes, and kept them captive until their bodies were deemed disposable after the skin began to rot. Harrow was only caught because he allowed himself to be caught, leaving a trace of a kidnapped neighbor in his home while the authorities did the rest.

But if not for that... he would still be free, you thought.

“Good morning, Mr. Harrow.” You closed the door with a firm click, trying to ignore the metallic scent in the air—a mix of disinfectant and sour sweat. “How are you feeling today? I heard a patient complained about being harassed by you in the lunch line. Is that why your hands are restrained?”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his eyes slowly traveled over you, stripping away each layer of fabric, then skin. The silence stretched a second too long, making the air feel heavier.

You walk to the chair across from him and sit, positioning the clipboard on your lap like a shield.

"That’s not exactly how it happened," he said with confidence.

"Then tell me how it was," you allowed, activating the timer at the center of the table. "We have plenty of time today to talk about whatever you’d like."

"She provoked me, and I gave her exactly what she wanted with that attitude. You women are all the same—tease us, then can’t handle the reaction."

You remained expressionless.

"What do you feel when you have these impulses, Tom?" Your voice came out steady, though inside, a warning bell had already begun to ring.

His smile widened. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes gleaming with a malice.

"Impulses? You mean my... passion?" He stretched the word, letting it ricochet through the air. "Oh, doctor, you should know. Everyone has desires. It’s not wrong... to want. It’s not wrong to love women so much that you build an altar from the outer layer of their skin."

You kept your composure, but the knot in your stomach tightened.

"And what exactly do you want from all this, Tom?"

"Depends..." He leaned as far forward as the straps allowed, his tongue sliding slowly over his teeth. "Have you ever wanted something so badly it hurt? Felt heat under your skin, like a fire waiting to break free?"

Your eyes remained fixed on his, but your grip on the clipboard grew tighter. Your desires were none of his concern, and how you dealt with them even less so.

"Do you think that justifies your actions?"

He laughed softly—a low, rough sound filled with something that crawled along your spine.

"Who said I’m trying to justify anything? You think you understand me?" His gaze drifted downward, settling on your blouse where the top button had come undone without your notice.

"This conversation is to understand you—through your own eyes."

"Then what do you think I see when I look at you, doctor?" He leaned forward over his thighs, casting a look so dark it seemed to scratch beneath your skin.

Your body chilled, but your face stayed stone still.

"This session is over."

"Ah, don’t end it so soon... Sitting here... tied up like this... Isn’t it a bit insane? How they keep me bound while you... so free? Don’t you want to see through my eyes? How about I bind your arms and tear apart that sweet little cunt, doctor?"

You stood, the blood rushing too fast through your veins.

"We’ll speak again soon, Tom."

He only laughed again as you left, his chuckling reverberating down the corridor like a stain that wouldn’t wash away.

"Are you alright?" Travis’s voice broke the silence as his hand touched your shoulder suddenly, making you jump. You pressed a hand to your chest to steady your breathing.

"Got it," he said with a small smile. "Rough session?"

"Tom Harrow," you replied flatly, resuming your pace beside him.

"Shit. Was he... restrained?"

You nodded, and he exhaled in relief.

"Sorry."

"It’s over." You didn’t want to linger on it. "Since you’re here, I need a favor. I want to study Noah’s case more deeply. I could do it alone, but without internet or TV... it’s tricky."

If the case was as well-known on the island as people suggested, local news archives shouldn’t be hard to find. At least, that’s what you assumed.

"Hm. Old-school methods, then," he said with a chuckle, navigating the stairs with ease, greeting colleagues and signing prescriptions without breaking stride. "Old newspapers, interviews with people who knew him... that kind of thing."

"And where would I find all that?"

"In town, definitely. The university he attended still has plenty of stories about him. He was pretty well-known there. You know, because of the family name. It shouldn’t be hard to find someone willing to talk." He paused, eyeing you with renewed curiosity. "Are you really this determined to prove his innocence?"

You kept your tone professional. “I want to understand what really happened. The more information I have, the better my arguments will be during our sessions.”

“And you think that’ll make him open up.”

His sarcasm cut like a hidden blade. You lifted your chin, the heat of irritation rising slowly.

“I don’t appreciate your tone, Dr. Rune. I know Noah has the charm of a predator, and I’m sorry if giving up the case left you without an excuse to admire those…” You paused, your gaze sharp. “...incredible arms.”

The laugh that burst from Travis was genuine, full, and shook his shoulders before he shook his head in surrender.

“You’ve got a unique sense of humor, darling.” He winked, his blue eyes glimmering with amusement. “I don’t care about things like that, but when I started my career, I also thought my first problematic case would be my breakthrough moment.”

“And now you’re here, still stuck at Grimshade. Doesn’t seem like it worked out too well.”

The challenge in his gaze met yours, and for a brief, rare moment, you felt camaraderie—an honesty he didn’t bother to mask.

“I didn’t have enough time.”

“What happened?”

His expression darkened slightly, but he shrugged as if it were a trivial detail. “He killed himself.”

“I’m sorry...”

“It’s just another file in the trash. Don’t be silly.” Rune dismissed it and shifted his attention to a nurse calling him from down the hall. With a brief nod, he took off, his lab coat billowing as he hurried toward the masculine voice.

You understood why his apathy lingered like a cloud—it was a constant companion in this place, no matter how unsettling. Over time, nothing stayed surprising or shocking; it became just another day’s work.

Outside, the sky was a dull gray, making no effort to inspire anyone. You walked through the wide yard where patients had a designated hour of sunlight. Hidden Ward inmates came at separate times, under heavier supervision, for reasons that didn’t need explanation.

The trees were bare and poorly trimmed, and patches of grass fought for space amid wide circles of mud. The landscape was so devoid of color that when you held your arm up to the light, your skin looked as pale as your bedroom walls. The island’s low saturation was eerie, like the backdrop of a horror film.

You passed a minor commotion where a patient had lost control and harmed herself with a thread of fabric. Three orderlies wrestled her to the ground, dragging her back toward Hidden as she screamed.

“Prepare the hole!” one of them yelled to the nurse by the gate.

The hole? You didn’t know what they meant, a reminder of how incomplete your tour had been.

A few steps further, you stopped abruptly, noticing a figure crouched ahead. Almost instinctively, you adjusted your glasses on your nose and smoothed your coat before proceeding.

Noah, as always, was alone and silent, poking at the dirt with a plastic trowel, seemingly focused on a small garden plot.

The scene was bleak: dark brown, brittle saplings lay lifeless as he methodically pulled them up, tossing the dead roots into a bucket before covering the soil with fresh seeds.

“Keeping your mind busy with a hobby is healthy, Noah,” you said, your voice breaking the silence as your hands clasped behind your back, fingers twisting nervously.

He didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge your words. He remained engrossed with the soil, as if the voice didn’t exist.

“If you don’t figure out what’s wrong with the ground, the next crop will die, too.” You circled slowly, stopping in front of him and crouching until your eyes met his. Sifting the dirt between your fingers, you let it fall softly. “First, you identify the problem. Then you treat the cause before planting again. If you just cover it up, the rot stays underneath.”

His eyes—cold, empty—rose to meet yours, the disinterest in your metaphor as obvious as the tension in his shoulders. From the dark look on his face, it was clear he wished you would simply disappear.

“This is your hobby, isn’t it?” You arched a brow, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “Does working with plants bring you comfort?”

Utter silence. Of course.

“Well, at least now I know what you like!” Your tone grew almost playful, the smile breaking free. “We’re about to become great friends. Don’t you think?”

He remained unmoving, but something in his gaze held too firmly, cut too deeply—like roots refusing to be unearthed. Your body reacted to each layer his brown eyes pierced as though they reached beneath your skin with every silent exchange.

“You may be good at this game, but I’ve always been very competitive,” you murmured, leaning closer to narrow the distance. His posture stiffened, a warning, but you pressed on, ignoring the cold that slithered down your spine at the visible fury brewing within him. “I will make you talk, Noah Sebastian.”

Visibly tired of the forced social interaction, Noah threw the bucket and trowel at your feet with a sudden, sharp motion. The plastic clattered against the ground like a full-stop punctuation. Without sparing you a second glance, he turned and walked away, heading back toward the building with a confidence so disarming it required no escort of orderlies. He never caused enough of a stir to warrant physical restraints—the fragile peace of the sanitarium seemed to hinge on one unspoken rule: leave Noah alone.

Staff and patients alike followed that law as if it were an instinct for survival. Eye contact with him never lasted beyond two seconds, as if any longer would invite consequence. He was a lone wolf in the heart of the Hidden Ward, indifferent even to the most hardened criminals. No bonds, no conversations, no trace of connection to anyone.

Noah didn’t share space in the dining hall, either. While others sat together, murmuring or staring vacantly, he preferred the meticulous solitude of his meals, delivered and consumed alone, a routine as unwavering as it was unsettling.

And then, there was his appearance. Day after day, while others withered beneath the weight of confinement, Noah thrived. His uniform remained impeccably clean, fabric fitted to a solid frame that betrayed no sign of frailty. His hair—straight and brown like the smooth surface of a moonlit lake—fell effortlessly across his face, and his skin seemed untouched by exhaustion or sleepless nights. His eyes burned with a sharp, simmering fury.

Noah appeared more like a figure from dark fantasy than the specter of a bloody past—a twisted fairytale prince where the wolf owned the plot.

You had been watching him since the day he arrived.

“Hey, girl!”

Sloan’s voice pulled you back to reality. She tugged you down to earth with her usual flair, and you dragged yourself away from your thoughts, making your way to the back of the estate. You sank into one of the lounge chairs as she plopped down beside you, offering a cigarette that you declined.

“Hiding in a hole? Haven’t seen you around lately.”

“I…” What could you say? Oh, I’ve been far too busy obsessing over a patient, picturing him while I sleep with someone else, consumed by his case to the point of madness, driven by a twisted need to be near him just to hear his voice in a game where silence reigns supreme. “I’ve been working too much.”

Sloan shook her head, letting smoke curl lazily between her teeth. Her dark curls tumbled free as she let her hair down, her breasts pressing against her neckline as she stretched.

“Boring.” She rolled her eyeliner-framed eyes. Sloan was striking. “I was dying to see you after happy hour at the tavern. I saw you and Rune leave together. Damn, girl, you don’t hold back.”

She nudged your arm with a teasing grin, and you smiled.

“It wasn’t a big deal. We were drunk…” You trailed off, unable to recall the night with him—because your mind had been tangled up with someone else entirely.

“Lucky you! I’ve been trying for years to get that man’s dick between my tits, but he’s so uptight I’ve developed a kink for just seeing him shut up.”

“Definitely more attractive when he’s quiet.” You nodded with certainty, and her eyes widened before she burst out laughing.

“Been after him for a while?”

In just a few days, Sloan had proven herself more than a stellar professional—she was a living compendium of gossip. Nurses, doctors, even patients—none escaped her scrutiny. Nothing escaped her cat-like gaze, and there were no limits—gender, danger, status, or intellect—her reach was boundless.

You couldn’t deny how intriguing that was. Sloan was an endless source of untapped knowledge.

“When I started, he was already here. Just another psychiatrist—like you,” she pointed out with a smirk, not bothering to sugarcoat the insult.

You smiled.

“He was a total suck-up to the director. That’s how he climbed the ladder. But, with all his rich-kid vibes, winning isn’t exactly hard.”

“Working here is winning?” you deadpanned, shaking your head. “He’s definitely screwed.”

“Oh, you just killed my crush.” Sloan sighed, stubbing her cigarette against the wall.

You both laughed, and she hooked her arm through yours as you walked back toward the sanitarium together.

“You know I’ve taken over that patient’s case… Noah, right?”

Your question lingered in the air, and Sloan merely confirmed with a brief nod, waiting for you to continue.

“I need more information about him,” you pressed, your voice firm, laced with a touch of urgency. “The records are practically empty, and without internet access, I can’t search for old articles or any other data related to the case. I feel like if I only had the right pieces, I could get closer to him. Maybe even understand why this case feels so inconsistent, with such a huge gap between one point and the next.”

Sloan frowned, thinking carefully before biting her lip as though weighing her words.

“Look,” she began hesitantly, “I think there’s something wrong with this case too. But I can’t tell if I’m analyzing the facts clearly... or if I’m just falling for some kind of Stockholm syndrome, because, let’s face it, he is a hell of a looker, isn’t he?”

You sighed in disbelief, bringing a hand to your forehead.

“For God’s sake, Sloan!”

“Kidding aside…” She pulled you closer, lowering her voice. “There are a lot of rumors about how he ended up in Grimshade, and one of them is that his diagnosis was bought.”

“Bought?”

Suddenly, you were even more intrigued by Sloan’s friendship as she seemed to strike precisely at the point that had been gnawing at your suspicions. One of the things that most fueled your doubts about Noah’s case was his diagnosis — it just didn’t seem to fit.

“Remember, it’s just a rumor… but his family is insanely rich, and as you might already know, they own this island. They maintain an impeccable reputation; no one’s ever heard a bad word about them — just those glossy magazine articles about rich people’s successes. They say that when they found out what happened, they bought a diagnosis to get him placed here. That’s why his record is full of gaps. They knew Noah probably wouldn’t last long in prison, especially if the other inmates found out what he did. Here… well, here he’s just another killer.”

She shrugged, and you couldn’t hide how much the information impressed you.

“I thought his parents didn’t care about him after the incident,” you remarked.

“They don’t. He doesn’t get any visitors. But they fund absolutely everything for him here. Supposedly, Grimshade receives a good sum to keep him here and keep things running as they are. They don’t want him deemed competent — if that happened, he’d end up on death row, you know? And Noah being a stubborn jerk who won’t speak just helps.”

Rumor or not, every word aligned with your own suspicions. His file lacked the traits expected of his diagnosis, and you viewed all his behavior during therapy as a rebellious act. Was he part of his parents' scheme? You doubted it, not after how he reacted to seeing his family photo.

It was all about protecting their image.

“I appreciate the honest update,” you said with a smile as you both stopped by the coffee machine. Sloan ordered a cappuccino, and you went for a latte, though you had no real desire to drink it. “I considered asking Travis about these things, but he always seems so prickly when it comes to Noah.”

“Doctor Rune was his first psychiatrist. The big boss upstairs,” she gestured toward the administrative wing with a nod. “He referred Noah during the trial. But Travis has a temper. He’s got rigid opinions on certain methods and zero patience. When he realized the kid wasn’t going to talk, he blew up.”

“They argued?”

“Not sure you could call it an argument, since one side wasn’t talking, right?” She chuckled. “But yeah, the tension was thick, and they decided to bring someone else in, since the Hidden Wing was being neglected too.”

Dr. Rune clearly had no intention of sharing this part of the story with you. It was no wonder he sent you off with a suggestion to look into town for answers.

“Now I’m even more curious…” you admitted, biting your lip and watching the steam rise from your cup. “If it’s more than just a rumor, if the diagnosis really is wrong… he could be innocent.”

“Sounds like one of those dramas,” Sloan said, draining her cappuccino.

“Rune mentioned the city would be the best place to dig up more,” you added, folding your arms. “His family’s well-known there, so it shouldn’t be hard to find something useful.”

“Perfect!” Sloan grinned conspiratorially and winked. “On our day off, we’ll go investigate Noah’s life in town!”

A flicker of relief passed through you. Slowly but surely, you were getting to know your colleagues better, and the way they welcomed you made the environment less toxic and lonely. Now you had information that made things feel a bit more concrete, even if it was just hearsay. Still, you were determined to go deeper.

Getting Noah to talk seemed like a promising plan to boost your career and leave the asylum behind, but turning the tables with a proper diagnosis — and possibly solving his case — would be even better.

From the corridor window, you had a clear view of the grounds outside. Well, clear might be an exaggeration — the exterior was a tangled mess of chaos — but you could still spot patients moving about, including him.

“The Hidden Wing’s outdoor time ended already,” you noted to Sloan, checking the wall clock. “But he’s still out there.”

Noah had returned to the same spot where you had found him earlier. Crouched, he sifted through brittle branches, pulling up rotting roots and planting new seeds. As always, he was alone. You tried — and failed — to look away from the way his shirt clung to his chest, soaked with sweat, and the arms that seemed ready to tear through the fabric. In a fleeting moment, he lifted his eyes from the garden and squinted toward the window.

A wave of heat surged up your neck. You rubbed the back of it, but the gesture did little to douse the flames his furtive gaze ignited within you. You weren’t sure if he hated you, despised your presence, or wanted to add you to his list of victims. But one thing was clear: he felt something.

“He’s allowed to roam Grimshade freely,” Sloan said, following your gaze. “Privileges, right?”

Your body went rigid, eyes widening instantly. Your reaction was so obvious that even from afar, Noah allowed himself a sly, wicked grin.

“Free?” you repeated, your voice tight. “At any time?”

“That’s what they say.”

Breathing suddenly became a challenge. Your gaze remained locked on his dark, provocative smile. Your heart thudded wildly, threatening to leap from your chest as heat crawled up your face.

It wasn’t your imagination. He really had been watching you through the window that night.

[thot-writes]

[repost bc i messed up] i’ve noticed that despite the fact everyone makes jokes abt astarion being a bottom i’ve yet to see anyone actually write him like one… and like a bat signal in the sky…. i am here to save the day

sub!astarion (aka canon astarion) headcanons for the girlies and the babes (NSFW) (spoiler warning!);

Astarion appears to be a top-leaning switch. not necessarily out of preference, he likely performs sex differently depending on the partner, but more often than not is the one who has to do everything.

being with a dominant like yourself isn’t anything he hasn’t already done a thousand times before, but he must concede that sex with you has always felt somehow different. is it because you’re more skilled in the arts of intimacy than the vast majority of people he’s bedded, or simply because he had the choice in seducing you?

it could very well be both. you are a dominant of great talent, after all.

the first time you sleep together, it quickly becomes apparent what your intentions are and he readily submits to them. you toy with his body, cradle it, worship it while you ravish him. you can sense a performance from him, but that’s nothing you’re not used to— occasionally you’ve been with subs who think the louder they are the better the sex is. you’re accustomed to breaking past that wall.

astarion is no different.

he seems a little too eager, a little too excited by simple touches— you can tell he’s exaggerating. you want his real reactions.

you map every part of his body and take keen notes on parts of genuine arousal, his yelps of surprise, his deep sighs, his involuntary twitching.

it’s a challenge, and you doubt you’ve scratched the surface with him, but you accurately deduce some of his sensitive spots:

the points of his ears, his nipples, his collarbone.

it’s intriguing to you, how his most sensitive places are those that are far from the most obvious ones.

the first time you fuck, he cums with an intensity that he can’t remember having had before.

and all while you were going easy on him.

you sympathetically cringe at the thought of all the god-awful encounters he must’ve had with people before this, if one of your tamest nights was one of his best.

during your sexual encounters, you slowly notice more and more about his genuine enjoyments. but you notice one more thing too, one thing infinitely more important:

he’s unsure if he truly enjoys any of it at all.

he confesses to you his issues with sex, and like the good dom you are you cater to your sub’s— no, your partner’s — needs. it’s months before he’s ready to try again, but your patience is infinite for those you love.

once you resume your sex life, you start off tame again. tamer still than even your first night together, just to test the waters and make sure he’s comfortable.

astarion has learned to trust you in a way he’s never trusted anyone before, and likely won’t ever again. as the intensity begins to ramp up, he finds himself doing things with you that (given his backstory) he should probably balk at.

he lets you collar him, tease him, punish him, and occasionally even degrade him— because he knows it’s you. he knows you. there may not be many places where he’s safe, but by your side is a guarantee.

astarion is very vocal in bed. it starts out as dirty talk, but as he gets closer to cumming he talks less and moans more. whines more. pleads more. by the time he’s about to finish, he hasn’t said a word to you yet he’s told you everything you need to know.

whenever you go too far (which isn’t often), he pulls away a little. he’s not too good at using the safe word yet, but he’s improving. you know enough of his body, his mind, to know when he’s telling you to stop even if he’s not forming the words.

after every sexual encounter you have, without fail, you clean him up and rest with him. you cradle him in your arms and stroke your fingers through his perfect curls. you make sure that he’s okay with what you’ve just done, and reassure him that he can stop this at any time with no judgement.

it’s kind of annoying how nice you are to him, honestly. you’ve just given him a mind-blowing back-breaking orgasm, and you’re still coddling him? just how in the fuck is he supposed to pay you back for everything you do for him? he’s racking up one hells of a debt.

astarion has never had someone like you before, someone who seems to know him even better than he does. he loves that you’re patient and caring, that you’d give up sex entirely if he’d only ask, that he feels safe enough with you to relinquish control while knowing he still very much has it.

a submissive astarion is one that has reconciled — or has at least started the process of reconciling — with his past. one that has developed a trust so deep with his lover that he can feel comfortable with even the most scandalous of acts.

it will take time until he’s ready for the more aggressive side of being dominated, if he’ll ever be ready at all. but a soft dom is one he can very easily get taken from behind.

he knows that even though he submits to you, he’s the one being served.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt; “weird amnesia Timberkon”.  (( chrono || non-chrono ))

He tries to remember the last time he heard anyone actually mention Superboy out loud or at least the last time he saw an article or an internet comment namedrop him or like, even just a reaction gif with him in it pop up, but he really can’t say he was paying attention to anything like that as a thing to bother remembering. Like–why would he have been? There is literally no reason that he would’ve noticed Superboy disappearing from the public eye in any way that didn’t involve, like, an apocalypse situation, and even that’s not a guarantee if said apocalypse wasn’t central to New Jersey. 

Eight months is a real long time for nobody to notice that one of their ride-or-die BFFs or fellow S-shields is gone, though. 

A really, really long time.

“Shit,” he says again. Superboy laughs weakly, or maybe more like does a really bad job of trying to mask a sob. 

“I got back like, a month and a half ago,” he says. “And the first person I saw told me my cosplay was a cool idea and all, but if I wanted to go punk I should’ve gone with a Bat or an Arrow. And then the second one thought I was like some weird creepy cape-chaser or something, and the third thought I was–I don’t even know who that guy thought I was, but it definitely wasn’t me.” 

“Ah,” Bernard says, feeling vaguely nauseous. No, never mind, actually he’s feeling extremely nauseous. He is feeling all the nauseous. Every single possible kind of nauseous he was previously aware of the existence of and a few new heretofore undiscovered ones. 

He doesn’t ask how many of those people were people Superboy knew. 

“I just wanted to go home,” Superboy says, eyes still wet and downcast and voice just barely cracking. He sounds fucking despondent, and looks even worse. “I–I thought I could still go home.” 

Bernard thinks “nauseous” actually does not even begin to cover the way that he is feeling right now. “Nauseous” is actually not even in the wheelhouse of the way that he is feeling right now. 

And he’s not the one who spent eight months just wanting to go home. 

“Sorry,” Superboy says again, not lifting his eyes off the table. “Sorry. This isn’t–sorry.” 

Whatever the hell Superboy thinks this “isn’t”, Bernard internally swears to himself, it is about to be complete and total “is”.

[melodic-haze]

Probably a strange ask, but pajama party sleepover with Topaz where the reader gets them matching Dino onesies?

☆ — DEMO TRACK: Topaz x Reader, Yae Miko x Reader

☆ — TYPE: SFW

☆ — NOTES: Using this ask to gauge if I can get a handle on Topaz's personality, cuz I didn't acc originally have her in the list I write for lol. I hope yall don't mind that I combined this into one post :33 anyway IT'S NOT WEIRD AT ALL❗️❗️❗️❗️ DUDE I'd wanna get matching onesies w the girlies :((((((( they're cute as hell and comfy

TOPAZ

"Babe?"

"Yeah?"

"You're taking quite a bit in there. Everything alright or..?"

"Yeah, everything's fine! I'm done, actually!"

"Come out, then! I feel like I've been waiting for you for ages! Right, Numby?"

You hear a muffled squeak from the other side of the door and you couldn't help but giggle both at Topaz's dramaticism and the little surprise that you have for her. Without a delay, you placed your hand on the doorknob, "You ready to see this?"

"Sweetie, I don't know what I'm seeing. But of course I'm ready to see you, no matter what!"

You rolled your eyes at the light flirt before turning the doorknob, stepping out of the bedroom and finally showing your girlfriend the long-awaited surprise.

You see her unfiltered joy before you hear it; she practically jumps up with a pleasantly shocked look on her face, one that easily morphs into a smile as she stumbles over to you to hug you with a squeal. Numby had followed close behind, rubbing its snout on your legs happily and running around.

"OHMYGOODNESS?? You look absolutely adorable!! You're one of those dinosaurs that some of the worlds have! This is the surprise you were talking about?"

You shook her head, "This is part of it. The real surprise is in the bedroom. I think you'll like it—both of you."

She narrowed her eyes at you before the dawning realisation came in the form of her flabberghasted look, "There's NO way."

"See for yourself."

Topaz swivels her head at Numby, who does the same thing in turn, before they both practically dash over to the bedroom. Unsurprisingly, you hear a squeal of utter happiness—your girlfriend always had an affinity towards cute critters, or cute things in general, so such a reaction was definitely no surprise.

And when she comes back out again, the pet warp trotter in tow, you can't help but relate to her unfiltered love for them.

"You got us matching onesies."

You nodded with a grin, "I did. Do you like it?"

"How is that even a question?" She practically skips over to you before putting her arms around your neck, "I LOVE it!! It's basically a guarantee that you look cute, but don't I look cute? Doesn't Numby look cute?? They look like a tiny little dinosaur, I think I could cry..."

A laugh bubbled up from your chest at your girlfriend's enthusiasm as you wrapped your hands around her waist, "I thought you might like something like this—you've been working hard, so I thought I'd get you something."

Her excitement dies down just a touch, though the affection in her eyes was plain to see, "Babe.. you didn't have to do that! I love the work."

"I know you do! I just wanted to get you a little extra for when I finally get you to settle down with manual labour for a night in."

"I'd say it's more than worth it." She pulled back with a flourish, picking Numby up to show off their gifts, "Cute and comfortable? I don't think anything could beat this."

"I dunno..." You shrugged lightly, "You haven't seen what else I have planned for this sleepover."

"Then I personally grant you the opportunity to change my mind."

She smiles so very brightly at you, and it's as if everything else has been washed away.

YAE MIKO

"You're awfully secretive with this little 'surprise' of yours, aren't you?"

"I think not being secretive defeats the entire purpose of a surprise."

"While you may be correct," she crosses her arms with a small smirk, "the blindfold is a touch overkill, don't you think? You wouldn't dare to stage a kidnapping on poor me, would you?"

"And risk the Shogun's wrath?" You scoffed out a laugh, "I don't think so. Plus it's to make sure you aren't peeking!"

"Did you not go into your room to change?"

"Yeah, but-- wait how did you know I was changing?"

You could practically hear her eyeroll, "I have ears, darling; ones that can hear far more than the normal human auditory system."

"Yeah, yeah, you can hear more than the usual person, I think I get it... Anyway, I'm coming out now, so you can take your blindfold off if you want."

"I still don't see the reason why--"

"Miko, babe, do you want to see me or not?"

"Fine, alright, seeing as how you want me silent, I shall cease my jabs at you.. for now."

Now you were the one to roll your eyes as you opened the door and walked over to your fox-like lover, clothes in hand. And as you did so, she removed the piece of cloth wrapped around her head before opening her eyes.

Instead of her usual vigilance, she actually takes a little time to stare at you.. and the folded gift in your hands. Amethyst eyes narrowed at the latter specifically before they darted over to you and your getup.

Then, a smirk made its way over to her lips as if it were another typical moment of her teasiny you, though you don't miss the way her pupils expand and her eyes glimmer in warm affection, "My, my... If you wanted to be my cute little bunny so bad, I'm sure we could arrange something."

You felt a blush overtake your cheeks, though you shook your head in an attempt to settle yourself, "Nevermind that, why don't you focus more on what I'm holding for you?"

To her credit, she does. But then she looks at you with a raised brow, "Are these.. matching onesies?"

"Yeah. Why," you feel something inside you twist the slightest bit, "you don't like it?"

"Mmm... We shall see."

Her expression is sly, though she doesn't give her feelings away as she takes the gift and heads for the bedroom to change. You knew Miko loved to be a cryptic woman, but it was a little frustrating when it came to the smaller things—did she like it? Hate it? Is she just.. humouring you so that you feel bad? Or maybe she's making fun of you by doing so...

"Dear?"

You are snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of Miko's voice, albeit a touch muffled due to the walls between you, "Y-Yes? Sorry, did you need something?"

"No, not necessarily. You were rather quiet while waiting for me."

"What, did you want me to bang on the door desperately?"

"I do have a penchant for the dramatics." You rolled your eyes as you heard her laugh, though she continues not long after, "I'm done. Be grateful that I hadn't asked you to wear a blindfold."

"Uh huh, I'm very grateful. Now come out, I wanna see you!"

"Patience, bunny. I'll be out in a second."

The door opens, and she steps out wearing matching onesie given to her. Though you notice that she has yet to put the hood on her head.. and the slight tint of pink that dusted her cheeks as she looked at you head-on. Was she actually embarrassed?

She huffed lightly, a slight smile on her lips, "Putting a fox in a bunny onesie seems akin to having a wolf in sheep's clothing, don't you think?"

You shrugged, "No matter what, you look cute either way."

"Was that your main goal? To have me look simply adorable for you to gawk at? Is my beautiful humanoid form not enough for you?"

While her tone was mostly teasing, there was a touch of.. something else—a tone someone asks when they are lost. Perhaps it was the loss of her intimidating air; she did love to make others squirm, but in a getup like this? How could she ever achieve that?

You shake your head, "I found these while I was out for a little shopping trip and thought that these would make you both cute and beautiful. Why, you don't like it?"

Her eyes softened, "Of course I like it, my darling.. though next time, how about we buy fox onesies together instead? Cute aesthetics are more suited towards.. hmm.. that Yashiro Commission girl, for starters."

A laugh bubbled up from within you, "Haha, alright, alright. But you're still my cute little kitsune."

"Little? Oh, that's highly debatable. Now, is this all we're going to be doing, staring at each other and how well we match, or are we doing anything else for tonight?"

"I've actually got a few options for you." You held out your hand to her, "If you'll follow me..."

Her hand takes yours, and you move on to proceed your comfortable night with the beautiful fox envoy, completely forgetting the rest of the world.