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pedgito · 8 months

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MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Four: Under Your Skin

Chapter Summary: An implosion that changes everything, leaving results devastating but unseen. [5k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: fem!reader, professor!joel miller, inappropriate behavior, reader is delusional lol, background tess/joel (mentions of infidelity), technical infidelity on joel's behalf, unprotected piv, f!oral, angry sex, lack of aftercare, belt as restraints, inappropriate use of a tie & desk, semi-public sex (sorta), angst at the end i'm sorry.

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There’s a deep ache in your body and between your legs as you toss in bed that morning, rousing from a less than relaxing sleep, the faint smell of Joel still lingering on the clothes you fell asleep in, not bothering to change. Licking at chapped lips he’d kissed you so feverishly the night before, you recollect the night in flashes, rubbing sleep from your eyes and feeling riddled with anxiety.

You reach for your phone blindly, stuffed under your covers as you scroll through your phone, expecting some type of change—an updated grade, a note or two on your follow-up essay. But, there’s nothing. The big, glaring fucking zero staring you back in the face. And for a moment, you feel guilty. You wonder just how badly you screwed things up by doubling down and approaching him so boldly in his office. In his space.

You threatened him and he attacked. Not you.

You never intended for things to unfold the way they did, but you wanted to get your feelings across clearly, even if that meant getting under his skin.

Joel. Not Mr. Miller.

Those were two entirely different entities now.

You take your morning slow, enjoying the relaxation of the weekend and taking your time—researching and looking into things you definitely should not be. First, it’s his name.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t bring up much. His job history was fairly public, no local or national awards, nothing note-worthy and only a few small non-fiction pieces to his name, though you knew there were more—there had to be. With his taste in poetry and fiction you expected something, but came up with nothing. He’s so inexplicably boring to the naked eye and maybe that’s what he wanted. He wanted to blend and disappear.

Curiously, you do more digging on his wife. Who—yeah, it was definitely his wife. A few links later and you stumble upon the marriage certificate, nearly ten years strong. No kids, either.

It was impressive, more than what a lot of people could be prideful about. But Joel, he wasn’t prideful about Tess. He was secretive, dismissive, and shot a look of disgust at his phone every time he received a text, whether purposefully or not.

You find that she works at a law firm, relatively small and headed by two partners. One significantly older than the other—father and son? You squint slightly, searching through the website carefully but not coming up with much. She was a lawyer, that much was obvious.

Still, it didn’t explain the rift.

What happened?

You try and struggle to find anything rational or tangible, feeling like you might drive yourself insane trying to find out and you spend most of the weekend trudging through the obscurity of things you could find online, very little compared to what you could find out by just asking him.

There’s a tinge of dread in attending class that Monday knowing that no matter how hard you tried, Mr. Miller would never see you the same. He wouldn’t treat you as he had, pedestaling you up above the rest and, though he’d never admit openly, admiring you.

But, god, it ails you. Sickens your mind and keeps you from focusing on anything else.

You needed more answers, more clarification. But, more importantly, you still needed him.

That deep, gnawing feeling of desire in your gut had only grown stronger since your encounter in his office and you feared—knew, it would only worsen as time went on.

Joel knew that night that he needed to follow through on his plans.

His lack of trust in Tess, his instability in his life now, and how he couldn’t get you out of his head. The three were a volatile mix and he knew if he didn’t start somewhere that things would quickly grow out of control.

He makes the call to his lawyer the following morning, hungover and tired. Nursing a headache in his open palm as he conversed quietly over the phone. Tess was home, far off and distant in another room but he can hear her shifting around, moving about, and he feels like he’s betraying her. He doesn’t know why he’s filled with guilt and shame—maybe that was partly because of you, his willingness to cross that line for just a moment and kiss you.

It was a momentary slip, his want clouding out his sense of rationality.

You were conniving and manipulative, using his own selfish thoughts against him, his eagerness to aid you in your progress but also allowed a level of vulnerability between you both. Joel should’ve known, he should’ve seen it in the way you looked at him.

It was admiration and obsession and he fed into it.

It was something he never had, not even with Tess.

He loved her, sure. Cared about her, absolutely. But the physical connection—sexual or not, had never truly been there. And Joel figures that was why she did what she did, despite how badly it hurt him. He felt at fault for a while, like he had caused it.

Maybe he did—but he would never have betrayed Tess like she did so easily, even if she swore it meant nothing at the time. Late nights for her were fickle, but they still happened. And that’s when Joel allowed the doubt to seep in and eat away.

But, he just couldn’t do it anymore. He felt like an intruder in his own home.

Tess would be served the papers on Monday evening and Joel would face the wrath when he arrived home, but there was still time. Time to prepare and settle, commit through his day and do his job, even if you lingered in his peripheral as class went on.

Your lack of reaction and response to his unchangingness of your grade gives him a false sign of relief—had you finally moved on from the idea? Joel was clueless to how preoccupied you actually were, chewing on the end of a pen as you sifted through tabs as he droned on at the front of class. Discussion days were always long and dreadful, and as most of the class was discussing the troubled assignment Mr. Miller had given you the week prior, your silence was…required. He avoided you like the plague and you were thankful, to some degree.

Still filled with frustration and simmering rage, you can’t ignore how despite everything—Joel still glances your way. And where his looks before were restrained, subtle and less driven…these were not. Like he was replaying the events in his head every time he looked at you, wondering if he’d tossed your panties out or kept them, if he still tasted you on his lips—at this point, fucking you was the least he could do.

And you know it’s in poor taste, but you approach him at the end of class with a revered look on things—hopeful, even. Apologize, fix your grade, and move on like things never happened.

He straightens a stack of files on his desk as you approach, jaw tense as he swallows and his gaze follows the last few lingering students as you neared on him, like prey. But, your face softens when he looks at you and whatever retort he has on standby dissipates for the moment.

“Um,” You start, unsure of how he would react, “I—can we talk?”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Joel offers logically, “not…now.”

End of day, he thinks. In his office. Privacy. Secrecy. He didn’t feel like airing things out in the middle of the day, not with his divorce on the forefront of his mind.

“I just…I wanted to apologize.” You tell him quietly, “For everything.”

Was it genuine? Not really.

“I can’t change your grade,” He admits, “I’m not going to and it’s beyond the deadline for that assignment.”

You breath sharply through your nostrils and intertwine your fingers in front of you—Joel can see from the way your grip tightens that you’re holding back and nothing has changed.

Unstable and volatile, you both stared at each other for too long, an eerie silence settling.

“That’s—”

He interrupts without much care, “Unfair? Unethical? Don’t start with this. Not now.”

He doesn’t have any leverage here either, but you quiet down under his gaze slightly.

You begin to speak again, but he holds up a careful finger. Like scolding a child for their actions and you bite back a venomous retort as he talks over you, “Meet me in my office at six. Fifteen minutes. That’s all you get.”

He’s on edge, jaw flexing around a tense swallow that feels impossible to get down. He turns back to his desk, ignoring you and ultimately ending whatever conversation you were hoping to have.

He wants you to wait and despite your stubbornness to address the situation now, you settle with his words and nod, a quiet “Okay.” in response.

“Don’t be late.” He stresses, eyes flicking up towards you briefly.

Your insides twist ominously in anticipation, but you feel yourself throbbing with need.

“Yes,” You respond, “Of course, Mr. Miller.”

There’s an urge for praise that Joel bites back.

Joel is already opening the door as your footsteps approach later that day, anticipating your arrival and eyes glancing over your figure in the darkened lights of the classroom, the warm glow of his office blanketing you both as he welcomes you in with a gesture, moving out of your way slightly and closing the door to his office as you trailed toward his desk, lingering quietly.

“You can sit.” He directs, thumbs digging into the waistband of his slacks as he adjusts them slightly, the uncomfortable press of his belt pressing into his stomach. Normally he’d undress a little, relax, but he couldn’t allow that. Not with how anxious he felt, knowing what he faced at home, sure that the divorce papers had already been delivered to Tess.

He’s tried to ignore it—and he doesn’t know why he’s worried, but her refusal to cooperate is always an option and that isn’t something Joel thinks he can handle calmly.

“Okay,” You listen, taking a seat in one of the two leather chairs placed in front of his desk, watching as he leaned against the edge of his desk a few inches away, hands clasped in his lap as he looked down, unsure of how to begin, or where, “Um, I can—”

“You need to understand something,” Joel begins suddenly, interrupting you again—it really, really fucking bothered you. He did it on purpose, as a way to assert himself over you, and you felt it in the way he looked at you, down and scrutinizing, “this—whatever this is, or was—it’s inappropriate.”

As if he had a proper moral compass to explain his actions.

“I don’t need a lesson in appropriate behavior,” You counter, “if that’s what you’re leading into.”

“No—”

It’s your turn to interrupt, sitting up straighter in your chair.

“And truthfully, it’s a little unprofessional of you to continue to fail me after I did the make-up assignment.” You respond, a tinge of condescension in your tone, “and you kissed me, if I remember correctly. So—if this is because you’re upset, then I’m allowed to be too. I want a fair grade. Not what you’re punishing me with now because you—for whatever fucking reason, can’t get passed the idea that you had those thoughts too, but can’t accept it.”

“I’m not punishing you.” Joel responds lamely and you squint your eyes slightly as you look at him before huffing out a breath of defeat, chuckling softly under your breath.

“You know—we talked for weeks. Back and forth. And you reached out to me first. So, if you want to deny that then let’s talk about you abusing your power and holding it over my head now after all of that. Genuine talks. You had to care, to some degree.”

“You’re not the first student I’ve talked to outside of class—”

You roll your eyes, feeling the conversation stalling out quickly.

“Do you still have them?” You ask curiously.

Joel doesn’t need to be told. He knows what you’re referring to.

And the guilt on his face as he looks away briefly, tongue pressing into his cheek as he glances at his watch, avoiding your question.

“Am I out of time already?” You ask patronizingly, leaning over in the chair slightly as you struggle to meet his gaze, his eyes pointed elsewhere. “Tight schedule today?”

“What are you expecting out of this?” Joel asks, arms crossing over his chest, biceps stretching under the dark button-up, licking at his bottom lip anxiously. “Are you that fucking stubborn that you think this is somehow going to work in your favor?”

Your face twitches in frustration and you cock your head slightly, rising from the chair and into his space, close enough that you can smell the faint waft of his cologne, looking him over slowly as his eyes fall on you.

“Where are they?” You ask curiously, squeezing yourself between the small space, thighs rubbing against his own as you walk around him, trailing by his desk. “Here?” You point toward the stack of closed drawers nestled in the wood and Joel glances over his shoulder, quick to move as he pushes you away gently, palm flat against your chest.

“The fuck are you doing?” He asks, “You came here to talk. So talk.”

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and test your limits once more, “Oh, so they are in there? Kept them for yourself? You know, this whole moral high ground thing is really fucking annoying, Joel.”

He speaks your name as a warning, but it only makes you feel more at ease.

“What?” You ask innocently, “Do you have somewhere to be?”

Joel chews at his bottom lip and removes his hand from the center of your chest, feeling it sting like a hot brand as his fingers curl around the edge of his desk, feeling oddly small as your eyes track him and watch like he’s some type of prey, a devilish smile pulling at your lips.

He made a mistake underestimating you—or even allowing you back into his office. He was screwed.

“Stop.” He warns, watching as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and reach behind him quickly, yanking at the drawer but he draws your hand up, tight in his grip and forcing you against his chest, your unrestrained hand falling against the desk to catch yourself.

“What’s going on?” You ask softly, feigning genuine emotion. The crease between his brow growing deeper—you’ve spent enough time with him to know when something is bothering him, someone, and it’s written all over his face. “Come on, I won’t say anything.”

“It’s not your business.” Joel offers lamely, feeling you create a small amount of distance as you push away, your wrist still held firmly in his grip, but lower by his waist.

“Is it her?” You ask carefully, “It’s her, isn’t it?”

Another breath of your name—stop here, stop now.

“Did you tell her?” You ask suddenly, eyes widening. “God, are you really that much of a —”

“No, fuck—” He interrupts, “I’m—not that it’s any of your goddamn business, I served her divorce papers today.”

“Oh…” It wasn’t what you expected, not by a longshot. “Was that—is that because of—”

“No,” His eyebrows quirk up slightly, amused that you thought you were the cause of his marriage's untimely dismantlement, “not at all, actually.”

He doesn’t know why it feels like a weight lifting on his chest, but talking about it with you feels…less imposing than he expected. And your eyes soften slightly at the mention, still beckoning something dark but he can see the genuine reaction that flashes momentarily.

He loosens his grip but doesn’t quite let go, thumb rubbing over the vein of your wrist.

Joel doesn’t understand why he can’t just let go, like he’s weirdly tethered to you.

“Do you…want to talk about it?” You ask, feeling the need to reassure some comfort.

You didn’t really care, but he seemed so pathetically sad. It spilled over and flooded into you, that small tug at your heart. It quickly fades, his mouth opening to speak.

“Not really.” He doesn’t feel the need to bother, glancing at his watch briefly again.

The minutes were ticking down and he knew you were overstaying your welcome—and he was allowing it. But, you here—it feels good.

“I can’t change your grade,” He reiterates again, “but if you promise to not do something like that again—I can offer some extra credit, something to help make up for it.”

And ultimately teach you a lesson and punish you in the process. Did you really have a choice?

“Extra credit,” You stress, saying slowly as you consider the word, the implication—you don’t think he means it in a nefarious way, it just feels ridiculous, “seriously?”

Joel nods, “Consider it a…lesson learned.”

A small laugh bubbles from your chest but you ignore it, staring down at his touch and speaking.

“You know—I did appreciate the recommendations you made,” You admit, “if that counts for anything.

Joel stares at you, despite your preoccupied gaze, speaking directly.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I care about that,” Joel says, “I give recommendations to students all the time. But, you seemed more interested so–I gave you more.”

“Right,” You say with finality, “and all those nights at the coffee shop?”

“I’m there quite a bit anyways,” He admits, only a half-truth, “you’re not the first student I’ve had meetings with outside of class.”

He’s trying to reiterate to himself that his actions are justified, but his body is saying otherwise.

“Mr. Miller,” You start softly, “can I ask you one more question?”

Silent, he nods again.

“Why are you still touching me?”

And he doesn’t know why, but something in him snaps. The quickening of your pulse under his fingertips, your eyes finally flicking up to him. He does have your panties tucked away in his desk, he doesn’t meet with students outside of his class like that, and he can try and convince himself all he wants, but him reaching out to you was a personal, selfish decision that had nothing to do with anything but his own curiosity. He sees the subtle catch of your breath and doesn’t stop you when he sees you moving closer, quick and determined.

Fuck his time limit, you think.

If he wanted you to leave he would’ve forced you out by now.

Your lips are soft but forceful, pressing against his with fervor as you slip your wrist from his grip and bury your fingers into his shortened curls, trimmed down at the base of his neck but there’s still just enough to tug, swallowing down his soft grunt as you pull and bite as at his bottom lip.

Joel has the thought to stop you, but he can’t.

He feels guilty, appreciating the touch that he’s lacked for so long. But, there’s a creeping sensation of frustration that fills him, vexed with you. And it snaps, completely.

His hands finally touch you, releasing a breath into his mouth you didn’t realize you were holding. One hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped firmly around your neck. Just a solid weight that he uses as leverage when you get too eager, nipping at his lip.

Joel moves you easily, silently as he turns and presses you against his desk, mumbling a soft “Up.” as he aids in the lift of your thighs, taking a seat on his desk as it shakes with the movement and he slots himself between your open legs and kisses you fuller, selfishly.

He’s eager to slip his tongue into your mouth once more, like beforem and you welcome it with ease. Giggling into his open mouth as he squeezes at your throat, the sound breaking his focus.

“So, is this the extra credit?” You speak against his lips, a soft puff of his breath over your face as he keeps his eyes closed, face pressed against yours. “Because I think my fifteen minutes is up.”

Joel can’t do conversation right now, the noise grating in his ears as he blindly reaches for his tie and loosens it, yanking it away from his neck and balling up the material, his eyebrows shooting up slightly in response as he catches your gaze, momentarily confused until you quickly catch on.

Oh, he wants you to shut up. Noted.

He’s guiding the fabric to your mouth before you can properly speak and that’s what he wants, stuffing it between your teeth and forcing you to bite down, his eyes darkened as he squeezes your cheeks between his fingers, shifting a hand under the hem of your dress where it tickles your thighs and you legs widen instinctively, even more. There’s an obvious absence of fabric that Joel notes as his fingers dig into your hips, your eyes brightening at his realization.

And that’s how Joel knows—you never came here to talk. You always had some underlying intention or reason and it drove him insane, but he was a raging hypocrite, wanting it just as selfishly. His fingers drag over your pussy with intention, gliding through your slick and pressing a single digit inside of you with little resistance and you gasp, muffled by the fabric.

“You didn’t come here to talk,” Joel surmises, though it was obvious from the start, “did you?”

You shake your head weakly, eyes squeezing shut as he pumps his fingers and quickly adds another, hand flying to his wrist as he quirks his fingers inside of you and hits a spot that has your stomach coiling in anticipation.

“What do you want?” He asks hotly, hand squeezing at the base of your neck while he uses his other hand to rub messy, slow circles over your clit. Your hands reach for his belt without question, palm flattening over his cock that was held tightly behind the stiff material of his slacks. “Yeah?” He questions, the subtle squeeze of your hand against his shaft in response.

And part of you really doesn’t think he has it in him to go through with it, but then he’s pulling his hand away from you to manipulate and manhandle, yanking you off the desk sloppily and pressing your front against the edge, fumbling with his belt behind you and pulling it off in a sharp snap, hand flattening against your back as he presses you down.

“Give me your hands.” He tells you, a soft whine of protest coming from your mouth, but then he’s pulling himself from his briefs, cock in hand as he tugs at himself slowly and glides along the center of your pussy, dragging through the wetness. “You want me to fuck you, right? Give me your hands.”

You had control on just about every aspect of his mind—he needed this, the physicality stripped from you.

You oblige silently, face resting against the cold wood as you offered up your hands and allowed him to constrain them tight and snug—he does it with ease. Practice and perfected and he uses it as leverage to pull you back toward him, “So, we have a caveat here. No condom.”

You nod deftly, eyes closing as he tightens his grip and ultimately squeezes the belt even tighter.

“But, something tells me you don’t care—” A shake of your head in response, “—don’t tell me you’re that fucking naive.”

You shrug lamely, wiggling your ass in an effort to move closer, eyebrow furrowing as he moves his hips away slightly. You growl in frustration and spit out the tie, “Fuck you, I’m on birth control. Do you really think I’m that irresponsible?”

His lack of answer is enough of one and he stuffs the fabric back into your mouth with a grimace, “Given your behavior, yes.” He fists himself tightly and slips inside of you with ease, a snug fit but you mold around him perfectly.

And it shouldn’t feel right, but it does. Joel breathes a soft breath of relief as he uses his free hand to fist into the fabric of your dress and use it as a perfect leverage to fuck into you with fervor, disregarding of your own pleasure for the time being—though the angle and the intensity of your thrust doesn’t have you far off, snapping his hips with a furiosity that strikes something inside of you with each harsh movement.

He’s huffing behind clenched teeth, a low growl emitting from his chest as he feels you tighten around him instinctively, sobbing brokenly around the fabric in your mouth, eventually allowing it to slip as you feel his grip shift, pulling you upright by your dress and pressing you back against his chest.

“Why the—sudden change of heart?” You tease, an underlying suspicion in your mind that you don’t speak aloud. He wanted a distraction and you were proving to be a great one. His hips slow suddenly, almost like he’s contemplating a response.

He huffs out a bitter laugh, snapping his hips sharply and forcing a gasp from your chest.

“Do you ever shut up?” He asks, “If I knew you’d be this annoying I would’ve just shoved my dick in your mouth—maybe that would do you some good. You’d like that, huh?”

You giggle softly but it falls off into a broken moan as Joel buries his face into your neck, biting roughly at your skin as he feels himself reaching his peak, knowing it’s been far too long for him—years of lacking sex that quickly divulged into nothing. “I think you would like that, Joel.”

You’re waiting for a chastise that never comes, knowing he hates when his name falls from your tongue—he makes a muffled sound as he loosens the belt with fluid, practiced fingers and discards it to the floor, relieving the growing ache in your shoulders as he crosses an arm over your chest, palm flat against it to hold you in place as he snaps his hips once, twice, before his other hand is digging into the flesh of your own hip as he comes, deep inside of you and with a muffled grunt, teeth leaving a faint impression in your skin—and you’re only slightly disappointed in his lack of attention in making you come, but then he’s pulling out and spinning you around, hands coming up under your thighs to spread you out over his desk, silently pressing for you to lean back, dropping to his knees with his pants pooling low on his thighs. Too impatient to redress fully.

You gasp when he dips a finger inside of you, catching the slow spend that slips out, stuffing it back in as he presses his tongue over your clit and groaning at how you clench tightly around his fingers, spasming at the pressure.

“Quiet,” He warns, “put the fucking tie back in your mouth if you can’t control yourself.”

You can admit defeat, pathetically stuffing the fabric back in your mouth—haphazardly as half of it drapes over your chest, eyes locking on Joel’s as he laps at your clit, fingers stuffed inside of you to keep his cum from dripping out. And it’s so overwhelming that when you do finally come, you feel your vision blacking out, biting down roughly on the silk tie as you claw at the hand he has braced against your stomach, desperately trying to keep your writhing body still.

The aftermath is quiet, jaded—shifting on his desk silently you watch as he redresses, tucking his shirt back into his pants as he slips his belt through the loops, the fingers that were just buried inside of you working so easily against the leather.

“Satisfied?” He asks suddenly, into the silence as you both lock eyes.

He slips the tie from your fingers, placing it back around his neck and tying it diligently.

“Are you going to try and convince me you did that for my benefit?” You retort in annoyance, despite how satisfied you actually may be, this wasn’t just on you, “How about you apologize for using me as an outlet for your troubled marriage?”

“You’re not an outlet–”

And as if you spoke it into existence, the knock comes a few moments later. The door opening.

This is the part where Joel’s life finally implodes.

You on his desk, compromising as he still stands halfway between your legs in the middle of shifting his tie and Tess is…stoic. Silent.

“This is what’s been keeping you so preoccupied?” Tess asks, the dooming stack of papers gripped tightly in her hand. “Fucking a student?” Her eyes flicking to you briefly but quickly back to Joel and he nods toward the door, beckoning for you to leave.

You do, without question.

And the aftermath is abysmal.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #tlou fanfic #joel miller smut #professor!joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #my writing #miller's girl #pedro pascal characters

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workersolidarity · 2 months

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[ 📹 Scenes from Khan Yunis, where the friends and family of Palestinian journalist Muhammad Abu Dakka retrieve his body from Nasser Hospital after he was targeted in an Zionist army airstrike. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

GAZA DAY 297: PALESTINIAN CHILD DIES OF STARVATION, TURKIYE WARNS IT COULD ENTER INTO WAR AGAINST THE ISRAELI OCCUPATION, GENOCIDE CONTINUES AS DOZENS MORE KILLED

On 297th day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 3 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 39 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 93 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or whose bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

Turkiye must be “very strong so that Israel can’t do these things to the Palestinians,” Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan told AKP Party officials in a speech on Sunday night, implying a threat to the Israeli occupation, according to the Hebrew media.

“Just as we entered [Nagorno-]Karabakh, just as we entered Libya, we might do the same to them. There is nothing we can’t do. We must only be strong.”

Further, Turkiye's Foreign Ministry said on Monday that "just as the end of the genocidal Hitler came, so too will be the end of the genocidal (Israeli occupation Prime Minister Benjamin) Netanyahu."

"Just as the genocidal Nazis were held accountable, those who seek to destroy the Palestinians will also be held accountable,” the Turkish Foreign Ministry said in a statement.

"Humanity will stand with the Palestinians. You will not be able to destroy the Palestinians," it added.

Similarly, Turkish Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan posted on the social media platform X, "our President has become the voice of humanity's conscience."

"Those who seek to silence this just voice, especially international Zionist circles including Israel, are in a state of great panic," Fidan said, adding that "history has ended the same way for all genocidal perpetrators and their supporters," he added.

The comments came after Israeli Foreign Minister Israel Katz insulted Erdogan on X, and appeared to make threats against the Turkish President.

Turkiye's head of Communications wrote on X that those who threaten the Turkish President "do so at their own peril," and accused the Israeli occupation of "ongoing genocide in Palestine."

In other news on Monday, July 29th, thousands of Palestinians were once again displaced from the Al-Bureij Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, as well as its outskirts, after the Israeli occupation army ordered their evacuation in preperation for ethnic cleansing operations in the camp.

Witnesses reported seeing thousands of citizens fleeing their homes from various areas of the Bureij Camp, most of whom headed towards the cities of Deir al-Balah and Al-Nuseirat.

According to local reporting, the Zionist army ordered the evacuation of citizens from Al-Bureij Refugee Camp and the Al-Shahuda areas in blocks 660, 661, 2220, 2225, and 2348.

For several months now, the Israeli occupation army has repeatedly ordered Palestinians to leave their homes for southern Gaza, claiming that they are "humane and safe," while forcing families into cramped, densely populated tent cities, along with UNRWA Schools and other public facilities before bombing those areas randomly and intermittently, while citizens starve and encounter disease.

In the latest example of the catastrophic and inhumane conditions in Gaza, medical sources announced on Monday, a 6-year-old child named Ali Anas Al-Tatar died as a result of starvation and dehydration at Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital in Gaza City.

This brings the total number of victims to succumb to famine in the Gaza Strip to 39.

Back in May, the head of the United Nations World Food Programme (WFP) declared the northern Gaza Strip to be in a "full blown famine."

"It's a horror," Cindy McCain, who leads the WFP, said on NBC's Meet The Press. “There is famine — full-blown famine — in the north, and it’s moving its way south.”

Meanwhile, the horrors the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) inflict on the Palestinian population of Gaza continued.

In one of many examples, Zionist army warplanes bombed a residential house belonging to the Abu Muslim family in the city of Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, killing 10 Palestinian civilians who were transported to Nasser Hospital in the city.

Occupation forces also targeted a gathering of civilians in the Al-Sikka area of Khan Yunis, resulting in the deaths of three Palestinians.

Similarly, on Sunday evening, occupation aircraft bombed a residential house in the Al-Sabra neighborhood, south of Gaza City, killing three civilians, and wounding several others, including women and children.

Occupation soldiers went on to burn civilian homes in the Al-Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, while Zionist soldiers also detonated residential homes and buildings in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood, southwest of Gaza City.

Additionally, occupation drones opened fire with live bullets on Al-Sina'a and Al-Maghribi Streets, south of Gaza City.

The horrors continued on Monday when Zionist artillery shelling targeted the Abu Hamid roundabout east of Khan Yunis, in southern Gaza, killing 5 Palestinians and wounding a number of others.

Occupation forces continued to detonate civilian homes and residential buildings in the town of Al-Qarara, north of Khan Yunis, while also shelling the Sheikh Al-Nasser neighborhood in central Khan Yunis.

Local civil defense and paramedic crews reported the recovery of 3 martyrs from the Al-Sabra neighborhood, south of Gaza City as a result of occupation artillery shelling several days ago.

Throughout the day, IOF artillery shelling targeted the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood, southwest of the city, while occupation warships shelled the coast of Gaza City.

At the same time, Zionist warplanes and artillery shelling continue pummeling the Al-Bureij Camp, while the occupation army is also shelling the Nuseirat Camp, as well agricultural lands in the vicinity of the mills south of Deir al-Balah.

As the day continued, the Palestinian Red Crescent Society (PRCS) reported recovering the bodies 5 Palestinians killed after occupation fighter jets bombed a gathering of civilians in the vicinity of Al-Firdaws School, west of Rafah, in Gaza's South.

Following that, occupation aircraft bombed another residential home in the Al-Sabra neighborhood, injuring 4 Palestinians.

Meanwhile, IOF warplanes bombed a civilian residence in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood, south of Gaza City, killing one resident and wounding another.

The Israeli occupation army also detonated an entire residential block in the Block-12 area of the Bureij Camp.

On Monday evening, occupation artillery shelling targeted a residential apartment near Al-Wahda Tower in the Al-Nasr neighborhood of Gaza City, resulting in the deaths of three Palestinians and wounding several others.

Then at dawn on Tuesday, Zionist army fighter jets bombed a residential house in the town of Abasan Al-Jadida, east of Khan Yunis, killing several civilians and wounding others.

Occupation warplanes also bombed the Church of Saint Porohyrius, which houses displaced Palestinian families, injuring a number of civilians.

Similarly, occupation artillery forces shelled in the vicinity of the Al-Awda Schools that also shelter displaced civilians, while occupation aircraft bombarded a house in the Jorat Al-Lot area, east of Khan Yunis.

Also in Khan Yunis, Israeli occupation forces bombed a house near the Al-Salam Mosque in the Tahlia area, east of the city.

Just prior to midnight, Zionist aircraft bombed a house again in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood of Gaza City, as well as the Friend's Building in the Ansar area, southwest of the city, leading to the injury of several civilians, including women and children.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing war of extermination in the Gaza Strip, the death toll now exceeds 39'363 Palestinians killed, including at least 10'300 women and more than 15'700 children, while another 90'923 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

This brings the total casualty count to more than 130'286, or the equivalent of 5.66% of Gaza's 2.3 million Palestinian residents.

July 30th, 2024

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#videosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

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dontmeantobepoliticalbut · 1 year

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U.S. President Joe Biden on Tuesday will honor Emmett Till, the Black teenager whose 1955 killing helped galvanize the Civil Rights movement, and his mother with a national monument across two states.

Till, 14 and visiting from Chicago, was beaten, shot and mutilated in Money, Mississippi, on Aug. 28, 1955, four days after a 21-year-old white woman accused him of whistling at her. His body was dumped in a river.

The violent killing put a spotlight on the U.S. civil rights cause after his mother, Mamie Till-Bradley, held an open-casket funeral and a photo of her son's badly disfigured body appeared in Black media.

The national monument designation across 5.7 acres (2.3 hectares) and three sites marks a forceful new effort by the President to memorialize the country's bloody racial history even as Republicans in some states push limits on how that past is taught.

"America is changing, America is making progress," said the Rev. Wheeler Parker Jr., 84, a cousin of Till's who was with the boy on the night he was abducted at gunpoint from the relatives' house they were staying at in Mississippi.

"I've seen a lot of changes over the years and I try to tell young people that they happen, but they happen very slow," Parker said on Monday in a telephone interview as he traveled from Chicago to Washington to attend the signing ceremony at the White House as one of approximately 60 guests.

Tuesday marks the 82nd anniversary of Till's birth in 1941. One of the monument sites is the Roberts Temple Church of God in Christ in Chicago, where Till's funeral took place.

The other selected sites are in Mississippi: Graball Landing, close to where Till's body is believed to be have been recovered; and Tallahatchie County Second District Courthouse, where two white men who later confessed to Till's killing were acquitted by an all-white jury.

Signs erected at Graball Landing since 2008 to commemorate Till's killing have been repeatedly defaced by gunfire.

Now that site and the others will be considered federal property, receiving about $180,000 a year in funding from the National Park Service. Any future vandalism would be investigated by federal law enforcement rather than local police, according to Patrick Weems, executive director of the Emmett Till Interpretive Center in Sumner, Mississippi.

Other such monuments include the Grand Canyon, Statue of Liberty and the laboratory of inventor Thomas Edison.

Biden, an 80-year-old Democrat, will likely need strong support from Black voters to secure a second term in the 2024 presidential election.

He screened a film recounting the lynching, "Till," at the White House in February. Last March, he signed into law a bipartisan bill named for Till that for the first time made lynching a federal hate crime.

A Republican field led by former President Donald Trump has made conservative views on race and other contentious issues of history a part of their platform, including banning books and fighting efforts to teach school children accounts of the country's past that they regard as ideologically inflected or unpatriotic.

"This is an amazing, teachable moment to talk about the importance of this story as an American story that everybody can share in now, particularly at a time when people are trying to rewrite history," said Christopher Benson, president of the non-profit organization the Emmett Till & Mamie Till-Mobley Institute in Summit, Illinois.

“We have a memorial now that is not erasable. It can't be banned and it can't be censored, and we think that's a very important thing.”

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kp777 · 1 year

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By Jake Johnson

Common Dreams

Sept. 5, 2023

"We are prepared to do whatever it takes, even get arrested in an act of civil disobedience, to stand up for our patients," said one Kaiser Permanente worker.

Dozens of healthcare workers were arrested in Los Angeles on Monday after sitting in the street outside of a Kaiser Permanente facility to demand that providers address dangerously low staffing levels at hospitals in California and across the country.

The civil disobedience came as the workers prepared for what could be the largest healthcare strike in U.S. history. Late last month, 85,000 Kaiser Permanente employees represented by the Coalition of Kaiser Permanente Unions began voting on whether to authorize a strike over the nonprofit hospital system's alleged unfair labor practices during ongoing contract negotiations.

The current contract expires on September 30.

"We are burnt out, stretched thin, and fed up after years of the pandemic and chronic short staffing," Datosha Williams, a service representative at Kaiser Permanente South Bay, said Monday. "Healthcare providers are failing workers and patients, and we are at crisis levels in our hospitals and medical centers."

"Our employers take in billions of dollars in profits, yet they refuse to safely staff their facilities or pay many of their workers a living wage," Williams added. "We are prepared to do whatever it takes, even get arrested in an act of civil disobedience, to stand up for our patients."

Kaiser Permanente reported nearly $3.3 billion in net income during the first half of 2023. In 2021, Kaiser CEO Greg Adams brought in more than $16 million in total compensation.

According to the Coalition of Kaiser Permanente Unions, the hospital system "has investments of $113 billion in the U.S. and abroad, including in fossil fuels, casinos, for-profit prisons, alcohol companies, military weapons, and more."

Healthcare workers, meanwhile, say they're being overworked and underpaid, and many are struggling to make ends meet amid high costs of living.

"We have healthcare employees leaving left and right, and we have corporate greed that is trying to pretend that this staffing shortage is not real," Jessica Cruz, a nurse at Kaiser Permanente Los Angeles Medical Center, toldLAist.

"We are risking arrest, and the reason why we're doing it is that we need everyone to know that this crisis is real," said Cruz, who was among the 25 workers arrested during the Labor Day protest.

A recent survey of tens of thousands of healthcare workers across California found that 83% reported understaffing in their departments, and 65% said they have witnessed or heard of care being delayed or denied due to staff shortages.

Additionally, more than 40% of the workers surveyed said they feel pressured to neglect safety protocols and skip breaks or meals due to short staffing.

"It's heartbreaking to see our patients suffer from long wait times for the care they need, all because Kaiser won't put patient and worker safety first," Paula Coleman, a clinical laboratory assistant at Kaiser Permanente in Englewood, Colorado, said in a statement late last month. "We will have no choice but to vote to strike if Kaiser won't bargain in good faith and let us give patients the quality care they deserve."

A local NBC affiliate reported Monday that 99% of Colorado Kaiser employees represented by SEIU Local 105 have voted to authorize a strike.

Our work is licensed under Creative Commons (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0). Feel free to republish and share widely.

#california #kaiser permanente #health care workers #understaffed #unions

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petalsnow · 9 months

Text

divine & mine (18+)

hyunjin x afab!reader x felix

word count: 3.7k

genre: smut, fluff - 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!

18+ content and smut warnings below the cut.

warnings: non-idol au, marriage au, intended lower-case usage, poly!relationship between reader, hyunjin, & felix, threesome, swearing, alcohol consumption, oral sex (reader & felix receiving), unprotected sex (don't do this), cumming inside (don't do this), impreg kink, praise kink, small mommy kink, dom/sub dynamics, confessions of love.. i think that covers everything, let me know if i missed something!

summary: you decide to celebrate your third wedding anniversary by having a romantic picnic with lots of wine and two horny husbands.

this is a fictional story. nothing in this fan-fiction represents hyunjin, felix, or stray kids as a whole. NOR does it represent their relationships with each other.

read at your own risk.

____

three years have passed since your wedding day. over one thousand days of being cared for and adored by both of your partners.

you had met hyunjin first, he was a regular at the same library you attended every monday, wednesday, and friday. he was a stranger, but he made sure that didn’t last. as each day passed, his stolen glances grew more frequent and his proximity grew closer and closer until you both could be spotted at the same table, quietly bickering over the novel you were both reading.

it wasn’t long after that hyunjin mustered up the courage to ask you out. the library was rigidly silent before hyunjin came out with it, “would you like to come over for dinner tonight? i’ve been dying to try this pasta recipe but it feeds two and i hate leftovers.” his face turning a pale shade of red before everting his gaze from yours.

naturally, you accepted and the rest was history. you two were shamelessly in love ever since.

you two had been together for a year before you met felix for the first time.

you and hyunjin met felix during a night out at a local bar. it was karaoke night and you had enough liquid courage to storm the main stage and sing your heart out to the lyrics of “My Heart Will Go On” by celine dion. Hyunjin admired you from the table you were both sitting at beforehand, sipping on an espresso martini. to his left, stood a blonde-headed boy who was smaller than him, sipping on a beer with his group of friends. The boy was thoroughly entertained by your performance, his laugh like silk as you made a fool out of yourself.

“she’s amazing” he said to his friend, but loud enough for hyunjin to hear, which made him shift his focus from you to the younger boy.

when hyunjin laid his eyes on felix for the first time, his first thought was how beautiful he was. He quickly took note of the freckles that dusted his cheeks, and his light brown eyes.

“after she comes down, you should totally ask her out” felix’s friend suggests with a smirk and a playful shove. felix couldn’t help but giggle and nod.

“she’s mine.” hyunjin spoke up, setting his cocktail down on the table. felix snapped his head in the direction of his voice, his face full of fear.

“oh, mate, i had no idea.. i wouldn’t have said anything if i had known.” he shook his head and pled his case.

“relax, there’s no way you could’ve known.” hyunjin broke his hard facade with a polite half smile. “come sit.” he gestured to the empty chair across from him.

felix visibly gulped and slid into the chair.

“what’s your name?” hyunjin asked, leaning forward to hear over the music.

“felix.. lee felix” the blonde replied quickly.

“hyunjin,” he said, holding his hand out for a truce.

felix met his hand and shook gently with an awkward nod.

“i like you.” hyunjin admitted

felix had a look of confusion painted across his face.

“i think you’re cute.”

“.. but didn’t you just say..”

“we’re open.”

felix still didn’t understand.

“we have an open relationship, and i think you’re cute” hyunjin clarified.

felix choked on his beer.

“oh, um..” he wasn’t sure how to respond.

before hyunjin could continue, you were stumbling back over to the table.

“hey baby!!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around hyunjin’s neck. “i missed you” you giggled drunkenly.

hyunjin couldn’t help but laugh as he placed an arm around your waist.

“this is felix, we just made friends.” hyunjin said, turning you slightly to face the timid boy.

“hi” felix almost whimpered, offering a small wave.

“y/n, nice to meet you phoenix” you replied with a toothy smile.

“oh, that’s not-“ felix started before hyunjin interrupted him

“i was just asking if felix wanted to come home with us tonight, what do you think angel?” he asked, tucking a small piece of hair behind your ear.

immediately, you knew where this was headed and the realization was mildly sobering.

you looked back over at felix, taking him in completely this time, before looking back at your boyfriend.

“that sounds lovely.” you answered sweetly. “what do you think, freckles?” you cocked your head at felix.

felix looked absolutely mortified, like a deer in headlights. Nevertheless, he slid out of his chair and looked between both of you

“let’s get out of here.”

That was over three years ago, and today you are all celebrating your third wedding anniversary.

The whole thing was hyunjin and felix’s idea, they were truly the most lovesick pair you had ever seen. they were almost frantic in your kitchen, shoving expensive wine into the picnic basket and perfecting the charcuterie board for your date.

you had just finished getting ready, a flowy, snug fit sundress and a head full of loose curls. little did you know you were walking into a disaster of a kitchen.

“guys what the fuck happened in here? it looks like a tornado flew around the kitchen.” you gasped, looking at the mess they had made in preparation for your celebration.

felix was boxing up the last few finger foods before waltzing over to you to place a kiss on your temple.

“don’t worry about any of this, me and hyune will clean it up whenever we get back, mkay?” he reassured you, filling his arms with food and drinks to bring to the car.

you grinned and shook your head before reaching out to grab some of the load, but hyunjin yanked it from your grasp.

“what do you think you’re doing? what kind of husband makes his wife carry her own anniversary gift?” he looked viscerally offended. “go wait in the car my love” he cracked, shooting you a dashing smile and a wink.

you playfully pinched his hip as he brushed past you before heading to the car like you were instructed. felix was waiting outside of the car with the door ajar, waiting to help you inside with an out stretched hand.

“wow, so formal today.” you smirked, taking his hand and climbing into the car.

“always the best for our princess.” he smiled, waiting for you to get comfortable, before gently closing the door.

____

the ride was long, but only because your date was a picnic in a secluded field of flowers.

whenever you arrived, hyunjin and felix worked quickly to lay a large quilted blanket down and set up your lunch.

you thanked them for everything before sitting down between them.

you ate together and emptied wine glass after wine glass. you talked of the past and of the future, and of how much you adored one another.

“i bet if we had kids they’d look exactly like me and have y/nnie’s attitude.” hyunjin teased, propping himself up on his side while plucking grapes off their vine. He delicately placed one in each of your mouths.

“hey, what is that supposed to mean?” you gasped with your mouth full of grapes and slapped his arm playfully.

“it just means they’d be so kind and so sweet and so perfect and not sarcastic, short-tempered, or sassy at all!!” felix mocked as you landed another playful slap, now into his arm.

“you’re one to talk” you rolled your eyes as the laughter died down slowly

“in my defense, i only have an attitude around you guys if i’m trying to have it fucked out of me.” felix shrugged nonchalantly, causing both you and hyunjin to grow wide-eyed and cough at his suddenly bold statement.

“jesus, lix” hyunjin placed a hand over his mouth, trying his best to finish his last bite of food

“at least he’s honest” you added, resting back on your palms

felix blushed smugly at your reactions before picking the original conversation back up

“i would love to have children one day..” he added with shyness laced in his voice

you and hyunjin’s attention shifted to him at the sudden seriousness

“you would?” you asked sweetly

felix nodded, toying with a blade of grass near his hand

you looked over at your other husband, who then looked back at you. you weren’t sure why, but these kinds of conversations always made it difficult for you to navigate. Although you all loved one another equally, whenever it came to the discussion of starting a family, the reality of things had to be faced. Hyunjin, knowing how you are, spoke up first.

“let’s have a baby then,” he said before taking another sip of wine.

this made your heart race as you looked between both of them.

“but-“ you began and felix cut you off this time.

“i don’t care who the father is. The way i see it, we’re all three connected and we would all love the baby the same regardless.” felix offered, trying to soothe your anxious state.

you took a deep breath as the tension built upon itself.

“i’m sorry, i just wasn’t really expected to talk about this today. I apologize for my hesitation. Of course, I would love to have children with you, but only if we’re all sure.”

hyunjin and felix chuckled, sitting up.

“i don’t think we’re ever been more sure of anything in our lives, angel” hyunjin smiled before placing a tender kiss to your lips and running his hand up your thigh.

felix wasn’t far behind him, moving your hair to place an open-mouth kiss to the side of your neck as you sat in between the two men.

you closed your eyes in pleasure, melting into their touches. as hyunjin left your lips you spoke up

“what, are you guys going to knock me up in this field?” you laughed sarcastically, waiting for them to catch on. Instead, the two boys turned their attention to each other with twin calculating looks in their eyes and then back over to you.

“yes,” they said in unison, hyunjin returning to your lips and felix back to your neck.

you moaned into hyunjin’s mouth at the realization and instinctively parted your legs ever so slightly.

even though the movement was quaint, felix took note and moved his hand up your inner thigh gently as he kissed down your collarbone.

“may i?” felix broke the silence, fingers dancing dangerously close to your panties.

hyunjin broke the heated kiss at his question.

“what do you say, pretty girl?” he glanced at felix, and back into your pleading eyes.

“please,” you whined, opening your legs more for felix to fit in between and get to work.

felix hummed and tugged your lace panties down your legs, discarding them nearby. Bring his mouth to your heat, kissing your clit softly to let you know he was starting.

your breath hitched in your throat as hyunjin moved to support you from behind, your back resting against his chest as you got comfortable.

“that’s it, baby, relax” hyunjin cooed in your ear, running his hand up your side.

felix wasted no time licking away at your cunt. his arms were wrapped around your thighs, his thumb rubbing at your clit.

eating you out had to be felix’s favorite thing to do. he could spend all day pleasing you, hearing you cry out for him.

your wetness was dripping down his chin and he loved how filthy it made him feel.

“you taste so sweet” he groaned, entranced by you and the way you responded to him. he moved one hand from your thigh and brought two fingers up your heat, running them down to collect some lubrication.

“look at that, you’re in for a treat darling.” hyunjin half-whispered into your ear, brushing the straps of your dress off your shoulders to allow him access to your breasts.

felix blushed at his husband’s comment before dipping the first finger into your pussy.

felix slowly pumped his finger in and out of you while hyunjin pushed your dress down to reveal your chest. he hummed at his success and began toying with your nipple between his slender fingers.

your back arched at the new sensation and it caused you to clench around felix’s fingers.

“feel good?” hyunjin questioned, pinching your nipple gently.

“fuck, yes. you both feel so amazing.” you whimpered out, clinging to the picnic blanket that laid underneath all of you.

felix had resumed eating you out, adding another finger to fuck into you, growing more eager by the second.

hyunjin brought one of his hands up to his mouth to spit into his palm before bringing it back down over your nipple, swirling the saliva over the sensitive bud.

“hyunjin…” you sighed blissfully, arching your back into his touch.

felix had completely zeroed in on your cunt, fucking his fingers into you at a steady pace while lapping at your clit

“i need you to cum on my face” felix whined desperately, only detaching himself long enough to utter the one sentence.

you groaned at his words and hyunjin’s massage

“i’m close” you mewled, knuckles growing white from your tightening grip

“let go for us, be a good girl.” hyunjin cooed, never ceasing his movements.

that’s all it took for you to twitch and release all over felix’s fingers and his face. He wasted no time licking up anything that missed him and left a trail of kisses across your lower half.

“fuck, that was so hot” felix growled, sitting up between your legs.

“let me taste her.” hyunjin ordered, gripping the young boy by the back of his head and crashing their lips together.

You watched as your husbands made out just above your head, the remnants of your release dripping down from their lips and onto your bare chest.

you always had a lingering sense of guilt, for no reason that you could pinpoint. Both of them catered to you more than they catered to each other, and that always made you feel a little strange. you always hoped they weren’t sacrificing anything to be in this kind of relationship. But it was times like these, watching them melt into each other's touch, that you felt your heart swell, and you could relax, knowing they loved each other, too.

the kiss ended and hyunjin moved out from behind you to face you now.

“you ready for us, doll?” hyunjin asked softly, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

you nodded as felix removed his shirt and began undoing his pants to slip them off.

“words, y/n” hyunjin reminded you, waiting patiently for your approval to remove his clothes

“always ready for you.” you smiled, tugging on the hem of hyunjin’s shirt and he wasted no time removing it over his head and then discarding his pants as well.

felix helped you lie down on your back while hyunjin positioned himself between your legs and felix positioned himself behind your head.

“you okay if i use your mouth while hyunjin fucks you?” felix asked softly, stroking his hard cock.

“of course, lixie wanna taste you.” you nod and lean your head back to make it easier on him.

he blushed at the nickname and looked at hyunjin.

“you can start, wanna make sure she’s okay before I stuff her mouth full.” felix chuckled and you rolled your eyes playfully.

hyunjin said nothing, too focused on the way you looked beneath him. he slid the head of his cock up and down your slit experimentally, gathering your wetness before pushing into you slowly.

you whined at the stretch and felix ran his fingers over your cheek, consoling you.

“you doing okay sweet girl?” hyunjin asked, halting his movements.

“yes, yes i’m perfect baby.” you nodded frantically “please give me more,” you begged

hyunjin moaned as he pushed deeper into you, moving your legs to wrap around his hips.

felix took that as his signal to push his cock into your mouth, his eyes rolling back at the warmth, slowly fucking his cock into you.

“fuck baby, how are you still so tight?” hyunjin mewled, throwing his head back, licking his lips

you moaned around felix’s cock as hyunjin’s hips sped up, your body felt like it was floating from the overstimulation.

hyunjin and felix both reached for your tits, hands brushing over each other before they both claimed one, teasing you once again.

“fuck, hyune, i don’t think i’m gonna last.” felix whimpered out to the other boy.

hyunjin was still trying to compose himself, biting his lip between moans

“you don’t have to hold on lixie, we have all day.” hyunjin squeezed the other boy’s pinkie, reassuring him.

felix whimpered, his hips speeding up, repeatedly hitting the back of your throat.

“baby i’m gonna cum, can i come in your mouth? please please, can i?” he stuttered

you moaned out in approval, back arching off the ground.

felix’s hip shuddered, his warm milky release filling your mouth, you swallowing it up without hesitation.

hyunjin’s pace quickened, fucking into you deeper and harder.

your eyes were brewing tears, gasping for air.

“y/n, i’m gonna cum. i’m gonna cum inside of you, are you ready for me?” hyunjin growled, placing his hands on your hips to stabilize himself.

“please, need you to fill me up. please hyune.” you mewled, finding felix’s hand and holding onto it tightly.

“fuck- i’m cumming.” hyunjin confirmed, landing sharp thrusts into your cunt, filling you to the brim.

felix wiped the tears off your cheeks and caressed your cheeks as you came down.

“you’re such a good girl, y/n. our perfect girl.” felix praised sweetly.

hyunjin leaned down and kissed your lips sweetly, leaving a few stray kisses on your neck after.

“did so good. you’re so good for us.” hyunjin breathed out, slowly pulling out of you.

you smiled beneath them and leaned into felix’s hand.

“can i feel you too lixie?” you looked up innocently at the freckled boy.

he looked surprised, “are you sure baby? that was a lot just now.”

you nodded, sure of yourself. “want you too.”

hyunjin chuckled at your cute exchange.

“felix, switch places with y/n,” he instructed, moving back so you two had room to do so.

felix obeyed and laid down on his back, his cock soft due to his release.

you sat next to felix, waiting for hyunjin’s instruction.

hyunjin moved in between the younger boy's legs, leaning down to kiss him.

felix whimpered into hyunjin’s lips, both their cocks growing hard once again at the contact. felix’s hands found purchase in hyunjin’s hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss.

you watched in awe, running your soft hands up the side of felix’s leg.

hyunjin let him go, smirking.

“my turn.” you smiled, leaning down to capture felix’s lips this time.

felix smiled into your kiss, his lips tasted like hyunjin and wine.

hyunjin took advantage of the distraction and spit into his palm, rubbing the lubrication over his head and felix’s opening.

hyunjin lined his cock up with felix’s hole and slowly pushed forward.

felix squealed into your mouth at the unexpected intrusion. it startled you so you looked toward hyunjin and quickly picked up on what was happening.

“hyunjin! it was my turn!” you complained, looking at him in belief.

felix became a moaning mess as hyunjin began fucking into him.

“fuck, hyung, you’re so big.” he all but screamed out.

“baby, it’s still your turn.” hyunjin chuckled “come on, climb in front of me.” he pulled you onto felix.

“oh fuck-“ felix realized what was going to happen “i, oh-fuck, i can't handle-“ he couldn’t finish his sentence.

you followed hyunjin’s guidance and lowered yourself onto felix’s length, earning a loud cry from the pitiful boy below you.

hyunjin held onto you while he fucked deeper into felix, and set the pace for you to ride your shared partner.

you toyed with felix’s nipples as hyunjin held onto you as if he owned you, biting into your neck and shoulders and your hips moved up and down.

felix was seeing stars, his eyes were rolled back into his skull and his breathing was staggered, completely encapsulated by you and hyunjin’s movements.

“lix- you’re - fuck - you’re so perfect.” you praised him, resting your palms on his chest now

“feels perfect too” hyunjin chimed in.

all felix could do was groan out, still not being able to focus on anything.

“are you gonna cum for us baby boy?” you whined, staring at his fucked out expression

he nodded quickly

“gonna make our girl a mommy?” hyunjin added.

felix squealed out and thrusted his hips upwards as he came in you without warning.

you moaned out and hyunjin did the same, finishing inside the smaller boy.

everyone was catching their breath at the same time, you picked yourself off of felix and fell onto the blanket next to him, chests heaving.

hyunjin pulled out of felix slowly and gently, making sure not to hurt him.

after a minute or so of regaining composure, the silence was broken.

“happy anniversary, my pillow princesses.” hyunjin giggled with his bunny smile, leaning over the two of you to place playful kisses on both of your flushed faces.

you and felix both blushed and wiped your faces after his wet kisses.

“happy anniversary.” you smiled at them both, pulling hyunjin down so you could lay in between them.

“i’m so glad you were horrendous at karaoke.” felix challenged and quickly hid his face, awaiting your retaliation, which immediately came after.

“felix! that’s so mean! oh my gosh!” it was hyunjin’s turn to chime in, giggling sweetly.

you laughed as the boys began to playfully fight over you. you looked over at your left hand, where a small golden band hugged your finger.

you sighed happily as their bickering continued,

you were in love.

the end.

#lee felix smut #hyunjin smut #felix smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz poly smut #hyunlix smut #hyunlix x reader smut

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magnetothemagnificent · 6 months

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A cool Dvar Torah I read:

Parshat HaChodesh, the New Moon, and Eclipses!

This Shabbat we read a special section from the Torah called Parshat Hachodesh. It is the story of the Mitzvah of Rosh Chodesh, that we track, observe and celebrate the new moon each and every month. Since the day that G-d commanded Moshe regarding this Mitzvah, two weeks before the grand Exodus from Egyptian slavery, we have kept a close eye on the moon, looking out for that celestial monthly moment of rebirth that G-d showed Moshe that early evening in Egypt. In the Torah, our holidays - Passover, Sukkot, Yom Kippur etc. - are prescribed to happen on a certain day following the new moon: "the fifteenth day after the new moon", "the tenth day after the new moon" and so on. Meaning, that if we wish to celebrate these festivals, we need to keep track of the lunar cycle, even if no one else on Earth gives it a second thought. Along the way, the Jewish people have come to identify with the moon. We can empathize with the moon's ups and downs, so similar to our own history. One moment we're shining bright, the next moment we're so oppressed and persecuted that casual observers have often written us off, predicting our extinction, G-d forbid. And yet the next moment, to their disbelief, we're back, reborn out of the darkness, and growing stronger every day. It's notable that G-d interrupted the flow of events leading up to the Exodus to tell Moshe about Rosh Chodesh. Not only because it seems to be unrelated to what was happening then, but also because by giving that Mitzvah right then, it meant that it would given in Egypt, the darkest spiritual locale in the world. G-d could have waited a couple of weeks until we were out of that spiritual wasteland and told us about Rosh Chodesh in the desert. Why the rush? * Everyone's talking about the eclipse happening Monday afternoon - The Great North American Eclipse. It's a major event that will have millions of people looking up to the Heavens, an event that will not happen again in the USA until 2044. Now, solar eclipses only happen around the new moon. Monday night and Tuesday, Jews will observe Rosh Chodesh. And not just any Rosh Chodesh, but the annual Rosh Chodesh of all Rosh Chodeshes - the first Rosh Chodesh of the year. This means that Monday is the day before rebirth, the day when the moon is at its very lowest, darkest point, the moment that symbolizes the most difficult, challenging times of the Jewish People. And so it turns out that precisely in its smallest, weakest moment, the moon looms largest: it can even eclipse the mighty light of the sun. Is this not our story exactly? Is this not precisely why G-d told this to Moshe in Egypt, in our place of misery and suffering? During the last new moon of our centuries-long sojourn in Egypt, G-d shows Moshe the truth about the miracle of Jewish rebirth and eternity. In the place of our pain, before the redemption, in the midst of the uncertainty, G-d stops everything and tells us to look up at the moon, see our story in the moon's story, and discover in the moon a solid friend, an eternal gentle reminder that it will be okay, that no matter what, Am Yisrael Chai forever. And better yet, as Monday's eclipse shows, our darkest moments are when we shine brightest and loom largest, as we begin the great turnaround, the journey from darkness to light. This Monday will be the 3,336th anniversary of the day G-d showed Moshe the moon. How perfect. During these painful days of antisemitism, the sun, 400 times bigger than the moon, is eclipsed by it. Far from tottering or faltering, the Jewish People are stronger than ever. Precisely when casual observers report us missing, that's when we shine. L'Chaim, brothers and sisters. Our best days lay just ahead. So in the words of the Lecha Dodi which we'll all be singing in just a few hours: "Wake up, wake up! Your light is coming, rise and shine! Time to wake up and say your song, because G-d's glory is revealed upon you."

by Rabbi Eli Friedman, Chabad Calabasas CA

#jumblr #eclipse #solar eclipse #north american solar eclipse 2024 #judaism #if jew know jew know #rosh chodesh #rosh chodesh nissan #dvar torah

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visceral-stories · 1 year

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Inheritance

I’m back! Thank you all for staying with me during my long hiatus! I truly appreciate it and I hope you enjoy the story!

Ko-fi |Twitter

6:30 PM seemed like a rather late time for a job interview, but it had been the only option to work with Garrett Carmichael’s hectic schedule. An ambitious high school senior, his weekday afternoons were usually fully booked. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he participated on his high school’s Quiz Bowl team and on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, he attended meetings with his math league. Unfortunately, being a productive, ambitious scholar was not a lucrative venture, save for the college scholarships he was already applying for. Garrett’s nonexistent financials were what brought him to apply for the position of a waiter at his town’s local banquet hall.

He also needed something to balance out the drag that high school had become. He didn’t mind the schoolwork or classes as much, but none of his few close friends - or acquaintances even - shared his same classes. It felt like he was just going through the motions, forced to interact with people who he didn’t care for. The absolute worst was his fourth hour in World History where a gaggle of dim-witted football jocks made the class a living hell. They weren’t physical with him by any means, but they were the type to whisper under their breaths and mock the way he talked or his answers to questions. As a result, it made him far more apprehensive to raise his hand whenever he knew the answer in class. School sucked and on the weekends, he was free. Too free. Having abundant free time was nice, but it wasn’t like he had many hobbies outside of playing videogames with his fellow math league teammates or doing deep-dives on the internet about the multitude of scientific topics that interested him. Not only did he need money, but he just wanted to get out of the house for a few hours and not watch the Saturdays and Sundays glide past him every week.

The application process had been momentarily bewildering for Garrett who had no clue how the website worked and he had to ask his mom what the digits to his social security number were. Every other high schooler his age had gotten a job already and he felt dumb for getting daunted by the simple process, but ultimately he persevered. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as he stepped out of his car and walked to the front door.

“Wow,” Garrett said with awe as he stepped into the nicest waiting room he’d ever seen. An immaculate tessellation of white and yellow rectangles adorned the ceilings accented by bold, curving polygons painted emerald green to resemble vines. The design appeared to extend far beyond the puny waiting room he was in and across the ceilings and walls of the main banquet hall, which he could see for a long distance.

“Can I help you, sir?” croaked a male voice.

Garrett looked back in front of him to see a man sitting inside a booth in the corner labeled “COAT CHECK” - the only other fixture in this small, open space. He had broad shoulders and was wearing a fancy tuxedo, nearly filling up the whole window with his width. “I-ummm,” Garrett coughed and cleared his throat, peeved at the inopportune phlegm that had formed. “I’m here for a job interview to be a waiter here.”

A warm feeling of dread filled Garrett’s body when the coat check guy just looked at him with a puzzled look on his face. Garrett remembered the man he’d been messaging in his emails. “I’m supposed to talk to a uhh…Mr. Clifford Atkinson.”

Thankfully, the man’s stoic face lit up with recognition. “Oh yes, he should be here within the next 15 minutes. His reservation starts at 6:45.”

“Oh, okay,” Garrett replied. He adjusted his glasses and wondered why the Clifford guy needed a reservation. Didn’t he work here?

“You can take a seat over there and wait for him if you’d like,” the man offered with a faint smile.

Garrett curtly nodded and quickly sat down in one of the few dark red office chairs outside the front door. He pulled out his phone and searched for that email he’d received from Mr. Atkinson. He could’ve sworn the email he’d received yesterday had told him to arrive at 6:30, but unfortunately it was nowhere to be found no matter how hard he searched for it. Crud. He must’ve deleted it or something. Emails were weird.

The next ten minutes ticked slowly by, leaving Garrett with minimal entertainment besides a few men and women who intermittently came and went through the front door. They were dressed up in tuxedos just like the coat check guy. It was intimidating the way they moved to and fro. Their solid black jackets with stark white shirts bounced up and down with their movements, taunting Garrett with their sophistication. A layer of sweat formed around him as he realized he might’ve come to this thing underdressed. His casual attire of a light blue short-sleeved shirt, a Mandalorian Star Wars tie, and brown cargo shorts clashed heavily with the fashion here. He’d just gotten here and he’d already made a mistake. It was too late to go back home and change clothes so he decided to drown his fears by scrolling through social media. As he was catching up on IGN’s most recent game review, the door flung open. Garrett glanced up, expecting to see Mr. Atkinson, but instead, the last person he wanted to see stumbled inside.

A tall, muscular jock stepped inside, dressed in a light gray short-sleeve t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, and of course - a signature backward cap. “Hey, what’s up man?” he announced as he swaggered up to the man in the coat check booth. “I’m here for the uh…waiter position.”

Garrett’s blood ran cold. It was Devon Kearney - one of the dumbest guys alive and unfortunately, the most prolific nuisance in his fourth-hour World History class. Every day, his deep, stupid voice filled the room as he tended to share every impulsive thought he had with the other football jocks in the class. He was a real menace, rude to everyone besides his little clique or, of course, girls in the class he found attractive.

Garrett watched the employee gesture for Devon to sit in the chair next to him and a wave of fear filled his body as the jock’s face lit up.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” he boomed as he sidled over to Garrett, causing heads to turn. “You’re that kid from history class!” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember. “Carmichael, Carmichael, Carmichael. Shit, what’s the first name?” he asked aloud as if Garrett wasn’t even there.

Garrett clenched his fists. “My name is Garrett, you big-”

“Ah! That’s right, that’s right! I knew that!” Devon roared as he sat down two chairs away from his far skinnier comrade. “You look like a Garrett too,” he snickered with a cocky sneer that made Garrett want to strangle him. Devon was so fake, trying to act all cool and friendly with him as if he hadn’t spent the last three months mocking Garrett in class. Most of the time when Garrett raised his hand to answer a question, he could hear Devon or one of his stupid friends whisper to each other and giggle. Those jerks. Garrett couldn’t wait till he graduated in May and never had to interact with those bozos ever again.

“So what the hell are you doing here, man? Are you applying for a job too?” Devon asked.

Garrett sighed. He wanted to tell Devon to screw off, but that sure as hell wouldn’t go over well at school tomorrow. It wasn’t like the jocks had ever been physical, but he didn’t want to find out. “I’m applying for a job,” he said, not even bothering to continue eye contact.

“No way! What position? Dishwasher?”

Garrett held his ground as he felt the spit in the back of his throat dry up. “Waiter.”

“You? A waiter? No way, that’s the role I’m training for too!” Devon let out a boisterous laugh that made Garrett’s skin crawl. “Hey, I support it man, but no offense, I…uh….I don’t see you being super social. Being a waiter means like…talking to people a bunch and making ‘em your friends to get stacks of tip money! And at a real fancy place like this, they’re gonna have fat bank accounts! No cap!”

“Whatever,” Garrett huffed quietly, cringing at the “no cap” comment the most. He turned his phone back on and released an embittered breath.

“It is what it is, man,” Devon snarkily added. He began talking, mostly to himself, again as he pulled out his phone. “Oh man, wait till I tell the boys about who I found at the banquet hall!”

An awkward silence filled the hall once more, save for Devon’s subtly obnoxious open-mouthed breathing, but moments later, the door swung open and a middle-aged man waddled inside. Garrett caught a faint glimpse of his massive torso out of the corner of his eye. His silver-haired head looked like a snow-covered peak nestled in between the two mountains that were his massive shoulders. Even more shocking was the fact that his pecs were even larger than his bodybuilder-level deltoids. They had entered the room before he did and only drew more attention as they were thinly veiled beneath the strained white dress shirt he was wearing. The top three buttons were undone, revealing a scandalous amount of male cleavage complemented by a light dusting of silver chest hair.

Garrett noticed that even Devon was also gawking at this colossal guy as he trudged over to the coat check. He leaned over on the desk as he talked with the attendant and Garrett’s cheeks turned pink as he gazed at the man’s massive, imperious figure. Especially his round butt. The dude was absolutely caked up! The buttons of the back pockets of his blue dress pants looked ready to snap. He’d never even considered the idea that men could have butts that big.

All of a sudden, the hefty stranger spun around on his heels and made direct eye contact with the two teenagers who were obviously gawking at his size. His jaw was the size of a lantern and his eyes had a piercing sapphire coloration to them. He looked like he was plucked straight from Hollywood or something. “Ah, Gentlemen, welcome! It’s nice to see you!” he boomed, the volume of his bassy voice sending a shockwave through Garrett and Devon.

“Nice to see you too, man!” Devon replied, clearly in awe of the massive male specimen in front of him

“Sorry about the outfit, boys. These tits of mine have been fighting me to get dressed today,” Cliff said with a playful jiggle of his partially-exposed pecs. “Getting dressed up is quite the hassle isn’t it?”

“Yeah for sure!” Devon said, intentionally lowering his voice to match the other man’s volume. What a kiss-ass. Garrett didn’t even know how to react. He just watched as the other young man hopped to his feet and extended his arm out for a handshake to which the man obliged. “I’m Devon.”

“Cliff Atkinson,” the man boomed as he shook Devon’s hand. Garrett promptly hopped to his feet as the man turned to him. “And who might you be?” he asked. “Just kidding, Garrett. I know who you are. Bring it in. I’m so proud of you.”

Before Garrett could even process what was happening, the man had pulled him in for a bear hug. It was unbelievably awkward, considering he had to hunch over to get down to Garrett’s 5’6” height. As Cliff gave him a firm, tender beat hug as tight as a vice, Garrett swore he could feel his lungs compressing from the immense pressure. It wasn’t like he knew what to say anyway. He had never seen this man before and now he was talking to him so intimately. It was so weird. When Cliff released him and gave him a tender pat on the back, he was nothing short of disoriented.

Garrett was gasping for breath. Before he could voice his confusion, the mountainous man stood straight up again and clapped his dumbbell-sized hands together with a smile. “I am quite glad to see you both, but I must say both of your outfits are quite unbecoming. The guests should be showing within a half hour. Maybe even earlier.” He turned to Devon. “I’m sure you are new here so all is forgiven, but this is a high-class banquet hall and we take attire very seriously here. Not to worry though, we have some proper clothes for you! Do you know where the dressing rooms are?”

“No sir,” Devon replied. Garrett peered over and locked eyes with a very sour-faced Devon, whose eyes were still boggling wide with disbelief.

Cliff smiled. “Not a problem, I’m happy to show you.” He turned to Garrett. “Garrett can go with you too. We must get you out of those dreadful street clothes. It’s your very special day after all.”

Garrett’s throat was dry from how shocked he was, but Cliff had already started leading the way before he could ask him a question - and he certainly had many options! Like “why the hell did you say you’re proud of me?” Or “what do you mean by special day?” But just the thought of questioning this hulking beast of man seemed way too daunting, no matter how tame he seemed.

Cliff turned and led the two boys into the banquet hall, which was far more capacious than Garrett had expected. The place must’ve been at least three-thousand square feet, with every inch of it decorated with Italian Renaissance artwork similar to what was in the lobby. Intricate geometric patterns lined the walls and surrounded the various paintings around the hall, which were also complemented by beige accents around the perimeters. There also had to be around fifty or so round tables all spread out in the open area. Some of the chairs were so close together that Cliff had to walk sideways just to get his broad figure past.

“So how the hell does a guy like you know a guy like that?” Devon whispered as the two traveled through the array of round tables, his voice rife with envy.

“I have no clue,” Garrett replied - the exact same question was on his mind.

“Whatever,” Devon snarled, his tone rich with vicious envy. “I’m a better fit for the job than you anyway. You don’t even know how to talk to girls.”

Garrett coiled his fists. He wanted to retaliate, but he knew that wouldn’t end well. Imagining the five other football players targeting him would be a living hell. He decided to voice a general comment anyway. “Well Devon, it appears that we may have both gotten the job. I mean he never said otherwise.”

“Bullshit, sir,” Devon hissed before his eyes widened with confusion after a few moments. “Wait, why did I just call you, sir? I-”

Before Garrett could respond, Cliff’s roaring bass silenced the boys’ tiff. “Downstairs is the staff apparel room,” he boomed as they reached a locked door on the opposite end of the hall and twisted a key in the lock. “Devon, was it? We have freshly laundered uniforms listed by size and you can find what best correlates with your size. We will meet you back here when you are dressed.”

“Okay. Yes sir! Sounds good, sir!” Devon replied, raising his voice to feign confidence. Garrett grunted in frustration. He wanted to wipe that stupid smug grin off that suck-up’s face.

Garrett winced as he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. “You’d best follow him too,” Cliff added. “You know better than to dress like that. I’d expect that out of Devon because he’s just showing up to work, but your apparel is usually not this…pedestrian.”

Garrett’s heart leapt into his throat. Why on earth was this man commenting on his apparel of all things? He just got here! And why was he talking to him like he’d already gotten the job? Yet at the same time, Cliff was talking to him like he’d known him for years. “Oh, I uh…okay,” Garrett meekly apologized, acquiescing to the man’s strange claims. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to ask the man about his inappropriate hug earlier. “Say, when you said you were proud of me earlier, what did you-”

A marimba ringtone suddenly blared from Cliff’s pocket. He held up his index finger and produced an iPhone from his pocket although his meaty hands made it look like a toy.

“Sorry Garrett, it’s the caterers,” Cliff barked. “I’ll meetcha back here in 15, alright?”

“Oh um..I just-”

Cliff had already answered the phone and started walking away, revealing another glimpse at his broad backside. Garrett readjusted his big glasses and sulked. As he watched the burly stranger depart, he couldn’t help but feel some kind of attachment to him: a benevolence of sorts. It was almost eerie how overly-nice he was being, but it seemed earnest. Perhaps he could tell that Garrett was internally sweating bullets just to be here and was being accommodating. At least it appeared that he’d gotten the job without question? Both he and Devon. God, he didn’t wanna work with that doofus, but it appeared he had no choice. He also didn’t want to let Cliff down after all. The man had been generous enough to hire him on the spot.

Descending down the old, stone staircase, Garrett entered a far less decorated area of the banquet hall. It smelled ancient down here. The air had a decadent, musty odor of men’s colognes mixed with a faint hint of mildew. As he rounded the corner, he noticed Devon was already sifting through a cabinet full of what appeared to be black uniforms. This room looked quite old and was rather charmless, save for a few photos of past galas and smiling well-dressed people on the walls. Something about this place was giving Garrett the creeps, but he couldn’t quite place it.

There was something different about Devon too. Even though his back was to Garrett, his entire outfit seemed a lot more…faded somehow? Maybe the light was playing tricks on him because the jock’s light denim jeans looked much silkier…and greyer in this light for some reason. Unfortunately, the poor basement lighting could not explain the shirt collar that had materialized around the jock’s neck.

“How do they not have my size?” Devon griped, his back still to Garrett.

As Garrett walked closer to his acquaintance, a hazy feeling filled his head, as if he’d inhaled way too much of the dust down here. The ground started to feel farther away for some reason. “Wait, why are you shorter…than me?” he asked aloud.

“Shorter?” Devon snorted, now spinning around to face Garrett. “I’m not-”

The two boys stared at each other with unspoken shock as Devon’s tall figure began to squash down. He looked down in horror as the tall, muscular legs he used to score touchdowns were quickly reduced to two chubbier-looking nubs. The dramatic truncation left him at a condensed height of 5’8”, six inches shorter than before. His athletic torso appeared virtually unchanged, but his height - one of his most defining attributes - had been cruelly taken from him in an instant. “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME?” Devon roared, his composure gone in a flash.

“I-I-I didn’t do this!” Garrett squeaked. If he wasn’t so terrified from Devon’s uproar, he would’ve giggled at his puny height. The jock’s muscular stature looked a lot cuter with his height condensed down - like he was a junior version of himself. “I…promise I didn’t. I don’t even-WHOA!”

Garrett’s plea was cut short as he promptly shot up like a weed. At one point he’d been eye-level with Devon, but his legs and lower torso just kept stretching taller and taller until stopping at an imposing height. He flailed his arms out for a moment as his new 6’6” body nearly toppled over. It felt like he was walking on stilts! “Whoa! What the heck is happening?” he asked as he placed a hand on his forehead. Glancing upward, the newly-minted lanky sapling of a boy realized he was now only a few inches from touching the low, old ceiling. “No, no, I c-can’t be tall,” he stuttered. From the flabbergasted look on Devon’s face, he could tell he was shocked and quite jealous. Mostly jealous.

Devon craned his neck up at Garrett and scowled with disgust. “This doesn’t even make any-DUDE, your clothes!”

“My clothes?” Garrett asked. He glimpsed down and watched as his clothes suddenly started to cascade down his body. The first thing he saw were his t-shirt sleeves gliding down from his upper arms to his elbows until they stopped at his wrists. A pair of French cuffs formed on the ends of his new flowy sleeves, accompanied by a pair of distinct “POPS!” as two golden cufflinks materialized. They were nothing short of glossy, refracting the shoddy basement lighting beautifully. Simultaneously, Garrett’s cargo shorts started shuddering all on their own. They too began to distend further and further to the floor until they rested just above his sneakers. Darkness intruded upon the brown coloration of his shorts, turning them into a maroon and then a vibrant sable. A silky fabric also enveloped the khaki of the cargo shorts, stealing away their bagginess and eradicating the oversized front pockets.

“What the hell is happening to us?” For once, Devon’s confident voice wavered, giving way to audible apprehension.

“I…I don't KNOW!” Garrett squealed as his new pair of pants was suddenly hoisted up by an invisible force. Or it wasn’t invisible, it appeared to be a pair of brown, leathery suspenders with metal clips that glistened in the light…which had magically materialized over him somehow? They locked in place and pulled Garrett’s pants up around his stomach. The movement scrunched up his t-shirt for a moment before the fabric magically levitated and gingerly tucked itself in, leaving zero wrinkles behind. “Y-you’re s-seeing this too, right?” he stuttered.

“Of course I fucking am!” Devon snarled, his face red with anger and embarrassment. Garrett’s eyes goggled incredulously as Devon’s new outfit looked even more elaborate than his. Gone forever was his grey t-shirt and blue jeans and instead he now sported a long-sleeved dress shirt fit with an array of vibrant mother-of-pearl buttons complemented by a pair of black suit pants. Devon’s new dapper attire accentuated every ripple of his body from his larger-than-average arms and legs. Most interestingly, his belly had a faint bump to it now, like he was bloated or something.

Garrett was mesmerized as he watched the jock struggle in his new, expertly-tailored clothes. Simultaneously, he couldn’t resist the urge to steal glances at himself and watch as his shirt dyed itself blue and his new dress pants dyed themselves a relaxing shade of light grey. In unison, both of their respective waterfalls of new clothing entered their final cascade. To mark its near terminus, a brand new pair of black suspenders sprung up from Devon’s dress pants. They yanked his pants up high up past his belly button. “GUH!” Devon cried in anguish as the suspenders attached around his shoulders and locked his pants in a painful-looking position. Garrett didn’t dare look for long, but he noticed that the jock’s genitals were bulged up in the pants’ fly as a result.

“This fucking hurts!” Devon cried, unable to hold in his rage “I can’t even feel my co-o--ock!”

Unlike Garrett, Devon’s clothes had a few more tricks up their sleeves. Firstly, an ocean of black stitching materialized over his pristine white dress shirt. It started at his shirt collar and promptly swallowed up his back and his pecs, until finally stopping just above his waist. Devon’s attempts to undo his tight suspenders were cruelly cut short as a brand new black suit jacket concealed his entire torso. Garrett gawked in disbelief, no longer concealing his curious glances. Devon pulled and picked at his new blazer with much ire. Three buttons appeared in the center of the boxy item of clothing and promptly fastened themselves. Devon’s abdomen and self-proclaimed “rock-hard abs” were concealed by the jacket while the top half of the blazer allowed for a triangle of view of his dress shirt. To complete his new expensive outfit, two black ribbons appeared on either side of his neck. Gracefully, they pirouetted around each other and promptly fastened a tight knot, leaving a spiffy black bowtie just under Devon’s Adam’s Apple. As a final touch, a purple strand of satin formed around the young man’s waist of all things. It wrapped around his obliques and banded over his lower back, creating a brand new indigo cumberbund and finalizing Devon’s extravagant uniform.

To finalize Garrett’s much less-invasive changes, a suit jacket of his own materialized and gently wrapped itself around his upper body. A checkerboard of green and white squares covered the illustrious, new fabric. He moved his arms around in it and was surprised to find that it felt light and breathable. Garrett’s eyes fell back onto Devon, who looked like a deer in headlights. Neither knew what to say. The strangest part was the fact that Devon’s pants were so tight - tight enough that Garrett could even see his balls all bunched up in the front. What was that called again? A camel toe? A moose-knuckle? Devon Kearney, one of the douchiest jocks in school, had an actual moose-knuckle. Before Garrett could stop himself, a small chuckle escaped his lips.

“You think this is fucking funny?” Devon snarled before immediately placing a hand on Garrett’s chest and forcefully shoving him into the wall. For a body three-quarters as tall as it once was, he still retained quite a lot of strength.

Garrett was petrified. “No, no, Devon, I-”

“This is all your fault somehow!” Devon roared, now inches from Garrett’s face. “Of course, being paired with Garrett Carmicheal of all people would result in some fucking weird nerdy black magic shit!” He tugged at his dapper uniform in disgust. The only remnant of his street clothes was the baseball cap still on his head. “I look like such a fucking dork!”

Devon was speechless. It was disturbing to see the jock’s unflappable, cocky exterior completely shattered, replaced by flagrant rage. “Devon, I-”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn't pound the shit out of you!”

“Devon, no…stop!” Garrett stuttered, overcome with fear.

Then, the strangest thing happened. Instantly, Devon obeyed the command. He released his tight grip on Garrett’s sternum and stepped back in an almost robotic fashion. “Huh?”

“My sincerest apologies, sir,” Devon replied, placing his muscular arms to his side and standing up as straight as possible. He shook his head. “Wuh, why did I…do that?”

Garrett wasn’t sure how to react. Instead, he just focused on catching his breath and peering down at his disoriented comrade. It was wild to think that Devon, the 6’4” tall linebacker who towered over Garrett in history class, had been reduced to a meager 5’8” height. Even crazier was the fact that he actually obeyed a command.

POP! POP!

It took a moment for Garrett to realize that the two sharp pings had actually been his top two shirt buttons flying loose. “My shirt…” was all he could say as he wordlessly glanced down at his now, partially-exposed chest. Instead of seeing a flat chest and distinct collar bone, he was surprised to see that his pecs were actually protruding out? And they were still inflating!

“Goodness gracious!” Devon exclaimed before putting a hand over his mouth.

The two boys could only watch helplessly while Garrett’s chest continued inflating. His pecs were a statement now - two growing muscular slabs, as sturdy as bricks, that tempted with their masculinity. Short, spindly dark chest hairs sprouted up in the center, which had now formed a small chasm. Although Garrett was enticed, he was unbelievably confused. A scrawny geek like him wasn’t supposed to have tits like this! He’d never even set foot in a gym. Or maybe he had? After all, it must’ve taken a decade’s worth of vigorous exercise to get pecs this round and supple. They were so huge that even his nipples had been pushed to the side and had puffed out, now each closely resembling the tip of a baby’s bottle. They were so sensitive too. He could imagine them tensing up every time his French cuffs grazed them or whenever he would give them loving squeezes in private. In fact, he could recall they gave him some kind of unorthodox pride - seeing them perked up in every formal picture he’d ever taken. His bros would even joke and call him Kate Upton because of it.

Garrett’s cock ascended, and noticeably tented his wool dress pants. Absent-mindedly, he ran a hand through his thick, long hair and parted it to one side - something he’d never done before. Of course, the hair didn’t stick due to the lack of product and instead, it just hung there as a gnarled mess with most of it flattened down and the other half sticking straight up like a porcupine’s quills. “God, what is happening to me,” Garrett huffed as he impulsively grabbed at his bulge.

“It appears you’re changing, sir,” Devon aptly replied, his voice sounding a lot more monotone.

“I…I really am,” Garrett replied, his voice nearly crescendoing into a moan as he gave his bulge a shake. “I look different, don’t I? More cleaned up, eh? More prim and proper. More mature, even.”

“T-that you do,” Devon confirmed, stuttering his words as he was forced to swallow a snarky rebuttal. He was losing his will to be a contrarian. Instead, his disposition was becoming far more accommodating and congenial, accompanied by an enhancing vocabulary. “Me too!” he pouted, his monotone voice once again possessing his familiar churlishness. “I hate this tux thing I’m dressed in. I don’t want to look mature! Although spectacular, my regalia is quite oleaginous, isn’t it? GAHH! What am I saying?!”

Garrett gazed back up at Devon, or rather peered down at him - the fear and frustration was evident on the other teen’s distraught face. He also appeared to have put on a few more pounds somehow. His growing arms and pec muscles took on a far more squishy shape and his tight stomach crafted by years of high school football had a much pudgier contour to it.

“GUHH!” Garrett roared, at a low register, similar to Devon’s voice, realizing the changes were far from over. Two shockwaves of blood surged through his arms, immediately filling them with volatility. A pair of massive, bodybuilder-sized biceps gradually inflated within the confines of the bespoke twill shirt. Garrett could only watch transfixed as his skinny, noodle arms - the things he’d hated the most about himself - became nothing of the sort. The muscles in his forearms followed suit as they pulled apart and tightened up with protein-laden muscle, becoming permanent, cylindrical-shaped obtrusions in every shirt he would ever wear. Around fifteen seconds later, Garrett’s barrel-sized arms were now tastefully concealed beneath the tight, stretchy fabric of his dress shirt. Mercifully, his golden cufflinks remained intact and undisturbed, their dazzling opulence a necessary accentuation of his rigid wrists. Garrett was in awe. Even his hands looked manlier - they looked more plump and more formidable somehow. His nails were perfectly manicured and his digits must’ve doubled in size, dropping their nimble slimness in favor of a more boxing glove-like shape.

A wave of growth undulated through his abdomen as it began to slowly extend forward to a similar breadth of his mighty pecs. With it came two distinct pops, but this time it came from deep within his abs. It felt like he was flexing abdominal muscles that had never made themselves known before. To confirm his suspicion, the two pops multiplied into four and then six until concluding on eight square-shaped indentations etched into his abdomen. Bespoke twill felt incredible against his brand new eight-pack. “God, I’m really filling out, huh?” Garrett smirked as an impulsive affirmation to himself.

“Yes, I am too,” Devon answered nervously.

Garrett glanced down and the first thing he noticed about Devon was the bulbous sphere that his belly had become. It wasn’t like he was obese or anything, but to call Devon a jock would be laughably inaccurate. This stomach of his had to be at least fifty pounds and it jutted straight out like a boulder. It didn’t sag low like a belly normally would, it hung high and tall, suspended by hidden, rigid muscle. Something told Garrett it would only get bigger.

“AGH!” Garrett yelped as he felt two muscles viciously tingle each of his shoulders before they began to stretch upward. A pair of glorious trapezius muscles flared out, giving him a menacing hood of muscle around his neck similar to a king cobra. Quickly, their immensity made his small, boyish head and mop of brown, unkempt bowl cut look extremely out of place. As Garrett’s trap muscles finished their transition into ones that a bodybuilder would envy, he attempted to turn his head 90 degrees, but found that to be quite a challenge. His neck too had also stretched wider to compete with the overgrown atoll of his trap muscles. Eliminating the soreness in his new muscular neck, Garrett rocked it back and forth and felt his bones and veins snap into place. The process sent a giant tear through the back of his Star Wars tie, whose lopsided Windsor knot had also fared no match for Garrett’s expanding, meaty neck and shoulder. It now hung loosely, dangling precariously over his massive tits about to plop to the ground.

“Pardon me sir, your tie is askew,” Devon piped up.

Before Garrett could react, his portly acquaintance gingerly removed the tie from his figure and was running it through his hands. He blinked and all of a sudden, Devon’s hands were concealed beneath a pair of satin white gloves. Paired with that, his hands looked larger too - like two baseball mitts.

“What is with this tie?” Devon added, staring at the Star Wars Mandalorian emblems on the tie. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Yeah, it’s my good luck tie,” Garrett replied. “I wore it for…the interview…” He trailed off for a moment as his memories of an interview grew a little hazier. They were both here for some reason, but this seemed like a strange situation for an interview. “Have you always been wearing gloves?” It was a straightforward thing for him to ask, but he genuinely was curious.

“Yeah, it’s a part of the uniform,” Devon nodded although his brow furrowed with confusion over his own comment. It was as if he didn’t know what he was going to say next.

“Okay,” Garrett replied intently, giving Devon a snide smirk. His cock bobbed in his trousers as he thought of the idea of a football player bending to his whim and being involuntarily supportive.

Devon’s face didn’t show much more emotion. Instead, he was putting his new man-hands to work some magic on the tattered tie. As he rolled up the tie, the array of Mandalorian emblems began to fade. First, the helmet’s outline faded before diffusing in all directions and melting into the navy blue coloration of the tie. In some miraculous animation, Garrett watched as the colors danced into each other before brightening until they reached a divine, subdued seafoam green. With a firm shake from Devon’s hands, the tie fattened up and lost any trace of its former self.

“What did you do?” Garrett asked, his heart sunk as his favorite tie from one of his favorite movies was gone forever.

“Hermés,” Devon said, answering a question never asked. “Mint is quite the nice touch for the outfit too.” He handed it to Garrett who just looked at it dumbly. “You know how to tie a tie don’t you?” Devon asked smugly, his voice sounding much more…posh and preppy. “We don’t want that Cliff fellow to be mad.”

“Yeah for sure,” Garrett replied as he unconsciously wrapped the tie around his collar. In only a few seconds and a few deft maneuvers, his hands nimbly created a Windsor knot.

“I taught you well,” Devon applauded, his eyebrow crooked as he dissected his statement. Still, his mouth continued its whimsical dialogue. “You can tie a tie as fast as I can tie my shoes. Or at least as fast as I used to be able to tie them.” He gestured at his bass drum of a belly and chuckled at himself.

Garrett couldn’t help but snicker too. Devon’s bubbly nature was somewhat infectious. It was kind of hot - imagining the portly ex-jock catering to his needs, but also being a genuinely nice person. That would be a nice change.

“Isn’t that better?” Devon asked. A faint panic still permeated his eyes, as if he wasn’t sure why he was asking these questions and indulging Garrett like this.

“Yeah,” Garrett smiled with a conceited grin as he ran a hand through his floppy, greasy mop of crumpled hair. The movement caused more strands to flop down successfully, causing them to be quaffed straight back as if they were drenched in gel. Garrett didn’t pay it any mind. He just enjoyed how perfectly his mint tie complemented the checkered pattern of his blazer. This nearly-gaudy attire - he wanted to hate it - but he couldn’t. It accentuated his muscles perfectly! Oh yeah. His muscles. “I feel like a million bucks!” Garrett said with an honorary flex.

“Good, good,” Devon jovially replied. In accordance with his jolliness, a new layer of fat formed around his stomach and stretched out his resplendent tuxedo even further. A wave of compassion and maturity overcame him, replacing his adolescent panic. Looking at a burgeoning young stud like Garrett made him feel…proud in a way? It made him feel oddly paternal, as if their ages were different or something? “You have to look your best for your special day,” Devon added, before grimacing at how cringe he sounded. Still, it felt eerily correct to assist Garrett with his newfound sartorial knowledge.

“My special day?” Garrett asked before smirking once more. “That’s right. It…is my special day. I just can’t remember why.”

“Me neither,” Devon admitted. His adolescent rage towards Garrett had faded completely. It was impossible to get mad a young, promising stud like him. Instead, he glared down at his new rotund body ruefully. “I look like a fucking gumdrop,” he pouted as he poked and prodded at his round belly and pecs. He craned his stubby neck to see that even his broad, hulking thighs made his dress pants look vacuum-sealed. It reminded him of wearing padded football pants. His chest was ridiculously huge too - his pecs were like two airbags resting atop a giant, protrusive boulder. Thankfully, his pecs didn’t sag like other older men’s man-boobs often did. They just hung there, taunting Devon with their undeniable stoutness. It was enthralling in a way - the idea of his cannonball-shaped stomach on display in every shirt he ever wore. That made him feel so…mature, like a father figure of sorts. His corpulence, unapologetically masculine, equally disgusted and excited him. At least his plump body looked well-dressed and concealed perfectly by this uniform. Devon could picture so many men his age, or…his father’s age, who didn’t know how to dress themselves - the type to have the undersides of their bellies exposed in public and who wore thin, ill-fitting t-shirts with visible, nasty sweat stains. Devon felt some strange pleasure in the fact that his clothes were tailored just for him. It made him feel much more…powerful that way. This well-dressed, paunchy body of his was an extension of his own masculinity.

Garrett was lost in his own self-indulgent thoughts as he inspected his own chest. He gave his nipples a tweak and winced at how sensitive they were. Rubbing the back of his meaty hand against the expensive fabric, he could feel a God, he loved being a man. A huge, hunky, muscular, young, confident man. One whose body jutted out in every direction in his formal clothes - kinda like Devon’s did, only Garrett’s were far more perky and traditionally attractive. He’d never clamored over his body like that before. It was quite the rush - a premonition of his constantly evolving virility and an extension of his own masculinity.

“Wait, do you hear that?” Garrett asked abruptly, causing Devon to return back to reality. The two of them froze and sure enough, they realized that there was now an abundance of noise emanating above them. A faint bassline and drums could be heard accompanied by a moderately-loud chatter of people conversing. “There’s people upstairs.”

Devon turned white as a ghost. “Oh no, oh shit dude, people can’t see me like…like this!” he cried, holding up his pudgy, balloon-shaped belly in rife disgust.

“Yeah, you look like a blimp,” Garrett chuckled. For a moment, he almost regretted saying it, but his fear of Devon was dissipating. They were equals now - no longer bound by archaic notions of a teenage hierarchy.

“Manners please,” Devon retorted, primping his suit. He didn’t appear to be that offended by the comment though, considering he didn't give Garrett any vicious retaliation. In fact, he seemed to be captivated by his tuxedo jacket. “My coattails. They nearly stretch to the floor!” he said with dopey astonishment, stretching his neck to inspect the way the coat draped over his pot-bellied frame. “They kinda look like a superhero’s cape. It’s quite…marvelous, isn’t it?”

“Whoa, your voice! It sounds British!” Garrett laughed. “Would you like some tea and crumpets, governor?”

Devon was not amused. “Sir, please,” he huffed, far more displeased than angry. “I don’t think it’s quite appropriate to make fun of my accent. I surely don't mock you for your deep voice.”

A twinge of guilt pulsed through Garrett. If a jerk like Devon could learn politeness, surely he could too. “Right, right, I’m sorry,” he said, completely oblivious while his voice lost its teenage squeak in favor of a commanding, baritone register. “I guess I never expected a football player to act so formal.” The voice that Garrett now had sounded like it belonged to a male country singer rather than a raspy 18 year old.

“Football?” Devon gasped. He could recall playing it for a brief moment, but the memories of it all came crashing down instantly. Like a piece of paper being incinerated to ash. A man of his rotund stature certainly wouldn’t be the greatest at the sport unless he was an offensive lineman. “I have…never played football before,” Devon said, almost in a state of shock as the words left his lips. “I wouldn’t be too fast on the field. Not with a belly like…OOOFF…like this.” Without warning, fifty more pounds were piled onto Devon’s stomach, causing him to look like even more of a portly freak. This monster gut looked ready to rip free from his uniform at any moment, but thankfully it had swiftly stretched with his beastly proportions to prevent that.

“Oh yeah, that’s right, it’s not called soccer where you’re from.”

“Huh? I…oh yes, that’s quite correct.” Devon’s head was spinning. His definition of the sport was changing. Football was nothing like it was here in the States. It was a far less violent and barbaric sport in the U.K. but most importantly, it was an excuse to get a pint with the lads and watch his favorite team whenever he went back home. Or wait, wasn’t this home? Everything was getting fuzzy.

Garrett was feeling the same way as he zoned out for a moment, gazing down at his sophisticated clothes. Or rather hunky, sophisticated body - the clothes were just an extension of himself. “Well, I think we should head upstairs and talk to that Cliff guy and maybe he can help us.”

“Ah Cliff, what a fine gentleman!” Devon perked up, like a robot coming to life. His deep, Welsh accent teeming with merriment. “Yes, let’s!”

Garrett tried his hardest not to snicker as Devon led the way. His bouncy, blubbery figure certainly didn’t move the way it once did. At first, he clearly was trying to move at the speed of a highschool quarterback, but his gait was reduced to a sluggish waddle. Something else had also changed about Devon. It was his back - which looked quite broader for some reason. Paired with his angular shoulders, his upper body was turning into quite an imposing-shaped rectangle. For a man of smaller stature, his figure was still quite imposing.

“I’m sure everyone is waiting to see you.” Devon said merrily as he reached the wooden stairs.

“Ah that’s right,” Garrett replied and a burst of dopamine suddenly hit his brain, promptly inhibiting any more questioning of their predicament. It was his special day. Being the center of attention was something he craved - people all gathered around him, listening to him talk in length - it was like adrenaline to him : a formative adrenaline. He cherished all the accolades his hulking muscles would receive. From friends, from family members, from romantic partners. After all, he’d put in years of hard work!

Garrett was aghast as he walked up the steps behind his paunchy companion. Devon already had the tight, muscle butt of a high school quarterback, but the ascent up the staircase immediately began shaping it into an enormous cushion that was impossible to ignore. With each step upward, his glutes flared outward in all directions, stretching his wool dress pants like lycra. Inflating like balloons, Devon’s mountainous asscheeks lost some of their muscled firmness. They rhymically bobbed up and down over and over, indicative of their increased fat concentration. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, two mounds the size of basketballs and as wide as pillows had replaced Devon’s former ass. He appeared to be none the wiser as he turned sideways for a moment and readjusted his cummerbund.

Garrett froze. His cock had risen to full mast and he hated it. Illuminated by a single overhead light, Devon’s mammoth figure cast a marvelous silhouette. The equal breadth of his glorious, distended stomach and protruding suited buttocks were so oddly compelling. And stupidly erotic. Then again, Garrett had been hard since the changes started…or for the past hour while he’d been getting ready. Yeah. That was right. Dressing up always got his hormones firing.

“It seems like only yesterday you had gotten into college,” Devon reminisced as he turned his stubby neck up to Garrett who climbed to the top step.

“College?” Garrett asked. He hadn’t even graduated high school. “I don’t think-”

“Look at yourself, Garrett, ” Devon boomed. The newfound sagacity in his voice sent a shiver up Garrett’s spine. “You’ve really changed from the small, precocious lad you once were. You heed advice and apply it into your own life. In university and in bodybuilding. Why, I remember when I used to be larger than you. Hah hah hah! That’s not quite the case anymore, is it?”

“Bodybuilding? College?” Garrett was dumbfounded. Two retrospections ran parallel in his brain. In one, he was a teenage misanthrope who would much rather keep to himself and his hobbies while another, more forceful side of him savored the attention of being a heartthrob, junior bodybuilder. He craved it, actually. He wanted to loathe the feeling, but he couldn’t. Everything around him was spinning out of control so beautifully, but something told him that this was a very good thing.

“Why yes,” Devon replied, “We’re all so proud of you. You have that ambition that’s going to get you very far in life.” His voice cracked a bit. “I wish I had more of that when I was a lad.”

Before Garrett could stop himself, he’d already wrapped his arms around the portly man. Given their height difference, he’d had to lean down slightly, but he didn’t even realize he’d done that. Devon quickly reciprocated and a mutual wave of growth radiated through the two of them. It was a weird burst of unbridled sympathy the two had never felt for each other once. But it was real.

Firstly, Devon’s belly gained a final thirty more pounds, swelling larger than a yoga ball and tight as a bass drum. At one point, he’d competed in bodybuilding competitions just like Garrett was…or was going to. But now, a stout aging man like Devon much preferred to possess a distended, glorious muscle gut formed from decades of hard work and newfound relaxation. His body type was truly one of a kind - he had to make his own custom clothes for it too - and nothing made him more enthusiastic that Garrett appeared to be following the same fate of growing gigantic. Finishing its inflation, Devon’s belly pressed tightly against Garrett’s abdomen, which was starting to shrink in exchange. Any remaining pudge Garrett had was trimmed away and repurposed into a lean, X-shaped of a competition-ready bodybuilder. His nonexistent butt also began to change, promptly losing its shapelessness as it inflated into two boulders. His rear was only around three-quarters the size of Devon’s, but it had equal strength. Garrett had an enormous, perky muscle butt formed by nearly a decade of strenuous squatting and consistent training. In tandem, Garrett’s slender thighs beefed up, becoming a set of poles that could effortlessly support his hulking frame. Subconsciously, he rocked back and forth on them and the new muscles tightened into pillars as thick as stone.

“Thank you,” Devon replied as the two pulled apart. His eyes were glassy and his face had a myriad of more pronounced lines on it now. He was so happy now, happier than he had ever been from his life as a football player. Being a British butler, a man of superlative etiquette, and passing eclectic style and machismo onto a man like Garrett - that was his new purpose. “You’ve become the man deep down that I knew you always could be.”

“Of course,” Garrett smiled. He felt like his heart was going to explode. While studying Devon’s new venerable face and more mature sunken eyes, he blinked and all of a sudden, his baseball cap disappeared! Not only that, Devon’s head of vibrant blonde hair had vanished too, leaving behind a faint horseshoe of hair. He pictured Devon as having a younger, boyish face in his head, but those memories were crinkling away as he looked into this new, mature man.“Your…your hat,” was all Garrett could say.

Faint wrinkles texturized themselves around Devon’s face as he smiled. “Yes, the bowler hat felt a little unfitting on a very formal occasion like this.”

“No, you were wearing a…” Garrett trailed off, immediately forgetting that a bald, astute gentleman like Devon would ever wear a baseball cap. That seemed too…juvenile for him. Whenever he did wear a hat, it was usually a top hat or something. Even more paralyzing to Garrett was the fact that this man in front of him didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. He felt like a family member. Like a mentor of sorts. It made sense. After all, he’d known Devon his entire life. A hazy memory traveled through Garrett’s brain. He could remember being young, back when Devon had a full head of hair and he’d wanted so badly to impress him. Now he had and the family butler couldn’t be more proud. Wait, family butler? That seemed correct for some reason, but it make any-

“Have a fun night, kid,” Devon smiled, uniquely giving the words a staccato affectation with his charming British accent, as he opened up the wooden door to the banquet hall.

Bright lights inundated Garrett’s corneas, like he’d stepped into heaven. When his eyes adjusted, he could make out around what appeared to be one hundred or so people occupying the previously vacant hall. Their attire was ritzy - like nothing Garrett had ever seen. Women adorned with beautiful, stylish dresses paired next to men dressed up in bespoke three-piece suits of various colors. A multitude of tuxedoed waitstaff were maneuvering in between the crowd of affluent guests. All parties involved seemed to be engrossed in pleasant, light-hearted conversation.

Seeing them all sent a tidal wave of fear through Garrett and the same teenage nerves he thought he’d banished inundated his brain. “Devon, there are so many-”

He turned, but Devon had already begun conversing with a crowd of five male waiters nearby who were dressed in identical tuxedos. He wanted to chuckle at how Devon’s cartoonishly massive butt eclipsed his view of the men he was talking to, but he couldn’t. In his peripheral vision, he could see people start noticing him. All the confidence he’d once had vanished instantly replaced by his familiar teenage nerves. He hated crowds - hated them so much. And now here he was trapped in the middle of one of the largest ones he’d ever seen.

Just as Garrett took his first step forward to try and slink towards the wall, he nearly collided with the silhouette of a huge, imposing man who nearly knocked him to his feet. Luckily, his reflexes were quick and he jumped back on his heels.

“Vince, there you are!” thundered the familiar, lofty stranger. It was Cliff - his interviewer of all people? He also looked more put together than before. His massive pecs were thinly concealed by a tight dress shirt preventing any chest hair from peeking through. At his side was a breathtaking entourage of beautiful guests, a group of men wearing flashy, velvety suits and a group of women wearing extravagant, ruched dresses. “We were wondering what was taking you so long!”

“Huh? My name’s not-” Garrett stopped. His deep voice, almost as low as Cliff’s, startled him and reminded him how manly he sounded. Before he could analyze it, two new heels abruptly shot out of Garrett’s sneakers, launching him a half-inch higher into the air - allowing him to become eye level with Cliff - the man who’d previously towered over him. He wanted to tremble, but there was something so comforting about the older man’s face. It made him feel seen. There was a broad, beaming smile on Cliff’s brick-shaped jaw, emanating the same sage-like reverence as Devon had.

“There’s the man of the hour!” another well-dressed man around three-quarters the size of Garrett exclaimed. By this point, the group of guests had swarmed all around him, rendering any chance of escape impossible. His heart felt like it was going to explode out of chest, from stress and a weird, weird sense of familiarity with these people, especially one of the men in front of him. His face was devoid of wrinkles and his forehead devoid of furrows. Must’ve been a lot of Botox. Even his hairline mirrored Garrett’s, which was impressive given he looked to be in his sixties or so. “Put ‘err there, Vince!” the dapper stranger exclaimed, extending out his hand.

Garrett acquiesced, not wanting to be rude. He didn’t realize how clammy his hands were until they were against this man’s dry ones. “Thanks, Uncle James. It’s so good to see you,” he replied before flinching at his weird, automatic response.

The man didn’t seem to care about being Garrett’s uncle. It did seem to make sense though. He looked like Cliff, only a few years older. “Look at that! He already got himself a Rolex! Lookin’ sharp, son!”

“A…what?” Garrett looked down at his right wrist and sure enough, there was a watch with a rich, emerald hue that looked nothing short of expensive. Upon further inspection, he realized it was the same green shade as his preppy checkered blazer and it had the same eye-catching shimmer of his cufflinks. Fuck. That turned him on for some reason. Luxury. Power. Being all dressed up. “Yeah, doesn’t it have a marvelous sparkle to it?” Garrett added, unable to contain his excitement. His voice sounded different now - a little more pompous. He was really holding the vowels of words in his mouth for longer now. It reminded him of the rich kids from his high school. Wait, where did he go to school again?

A lady in a lavender velvet dress holding a bubbling glass of champagne spoke next. She used big gestures to the group, as if she was showing Garrett off like a trophy. “Our son - the Yale graduate,” she declared, her voice sounding as proud as Cliff’s and as proud as Devon’s. “I can’t believe he finally did it.”

“Top of his class too!” Cliff added, sipping on a glass of scotch. “Don’t forget about that, Pauline.”

“Of course,” the woman smiled. “We never doubted our son for a second.”

“Graduated? From Yale? No, I’m…” Garrett sputtered as the final realization hit him. This was a party. All for him. And Cliff and Pauline. They were…his parents? That didn’t seem right, but Garrett had trouble recalling any other alternative. He could recall glimpses of his upbringing in opulent rooms, going to high-class events and developing a sartorial affinity. He now truly felt like an adult just like them. His parents’ positive words echoed in his head, filling him up with joy. For the first time in a long time, Garrett felt proud of himself. His memories of a recluse were fading while recollections of being a valedictorian and relaxed, sociable young athlete took their place.

“Looks like he’s been hitting the gym at the same time!” Uncle James piped in. “What’s your current weight?”

“280,” Garrett replied and instinctively performed a front lat spread to the group who all laughed pompously.

“Don’t get him started,” Pauline replied with a playful tap on Garrett’s shoulder.

Another man spoke up who looked muscular too, although not as muscular as Garrett. “Even during football, you were never half this size. You really took to bodybuilding during college! I can’t believe I’m looking at the same kid!”

Garrett beamed with pride and his posh accent swallowed up his old one completely. “Once I knew football wasn’t in the cards for me, I decided to take weightlifting more seriously and it really helped me.”

“Isn’t that great,” one of the ladies in the crowd smiled.

“He sure takes after his old man!” Cliff smiled, wrapping his arm around his equally-strapping son.

Garrett froze as he fully took in the breadth of his alleged father. For lack of a better word, he was just so manly. Even being a man in his fifties, he still had some incredible size to him. He must’ve been sixty pounds heavier than Garrett, which was nothing short of impressive. Cliff’s cerulean three-piece suit looked ready to rip off. Garrett could recall some strong feelings about that: the idea of getting to a massive size where all of his suits had to be custom-made to contain his sheer width. He could faintly recall a short, plump man measuring him with yellow tape as he crafted measurements for him.

Holy shit. That man was his family butler. The one he’d just seen earlier. What was his name again? Acrid guilt pulsed through Garrett’s head. This butler had been with his family his entire life and he couldn’t even remember his name. Even Garrett’s own name was growing harder to remember, but he knew one thing for sure. His name certainly wasn’t Vincent.

“Any refills on champagne?” chirped a familiar ebullient voice.

“Yes please, thank you Reginald,” one of the ladies chirped back as the butler filled up her tall glass.

Garrett turned and sure enough, his family butler was right there: Reginald Chapman - a 400 pound intimidating colossus who was actually a kind-hearted giant.

Garrett tried not to laugh. This whole situation was so far-fetched. It reminded him of that one Rick & Morty episode where the family in the show had gained memories of a butler who they thought had always been part of their family. But this situation was different from a silly cartoon like that. It wasn’t like Reginald lived with them although he was over at the house working full-time. Hell, he’d even gone on family vacations with the Atkinsons. He’d even brought his husband along. It had been a strange sight - seeing the family butler and his equally-large middle-aged husband on the beach, but it had been illuminating. But still, Reginald had his own life. He was simply the Atkinsons’ staff member. A lifelong, steadfast one at that. Happy to cater to Garrett’s needs whenever necessary and give him advice on life and bodybuilding. It seemed weird to have a private butler, but not for a family like the Atkinsons who were filthy rich.

For a moment, Garrett found that somewhat exciting - the idea of a massive man catering to his needs, but it wasn’t weird like that. Even with his portly figure, Reginald had been quite an inspiration for Garrett to take bodybuilding seriously. He’d wanted to grow - to get as big as one of his idols - a kind-hearted Englishman who was like his second father. In fact, it had been a conversation on a Bahamian beach with Reginald and his burly partner Oliver that had made Garrett realize he was bisexual - a whole separate epiphany.

“I assume the college grad over here needs a fresh glass too!” Reginald piped up, producing a clean wine glass for Garrett. He poured the perfect amount of the liquid into it and smiled. “He’s truly one of a kind isn’t he?”

The group smiled and laughed in agreement. Garrett took notice of the other patrons in the background who were also turning his way. Reginald had the volume of a foghorn after all. In the crowd, Garrett could make out a few guys and girls his age - some of the friends from college. Some of them were really attractive. This really was quite the celebration. And it was all for him.

“Dom perignon, sir,” Reginald smiled, handing Garrett the glass, his fifty-six year old face glowing with adulation.

Garrett took a sip and smiled - the expensive liquor tasted incredible. He swore he could feel the bubbles fizzing in his mouth after he swallowed.

“Raise your glasses, please!” Reginald boomed. The guests immediately obeyed, all with smiles on their faces as they stared warmly at Garrett. “To Vincent Atkinson!” Reginald thundered as the background chatter quieted down. “A young man who has changed my life as much as I hope I’ve changed his!”

There was that name again. Garrett wanted to reply, but instead a warm, compassionate feeling overcame him. He was touched by the sweetness of the family butler - a man who inspired him every day.

A cheer from all of the guests echoed through the banquet hall. They all took a sip except for Reginald who just warmly smiled. “Have a glorious night you all,” he said with a bow of his head before swiftly walking away to tend to other patrons. That’s right. Reginald was on the clock. That enthusiastic, diligent butler. Garrett watched as his plump body bounced within the confines of his long, dangling coattails as as he sidled over to another crowd.

“Vince has grown up so fast!” chimed in a male patron as the chatter started back up. “He’s sure got that Atkinson family chin!”

“Wait until he gets those Atkinson family veneers!” chimed in another who received a chastising shove from his wife.

“Family…chin?” Garrett mumbled as he felt a bubbling sensation emanating from the bottom of his face. It was the weirdest feeling, like someone was popping bubble wrap under his chin. The final piece of him was changing - his face. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to see it happen in real time. He just had to. “Excuse me, please,” Garrett said before promptly darting away before any patron could stop him. With each distinct footstep, his dress shoes grew more and more glossy, echoing throughout the opulent hall. Luckily, he located a bathroom nearby and promptly slunk inside, but not before feeling his broad shoulders scrape against the sides of the old, wooden doorframe. Garrett skulked to the mirror a panicked, breathy mess and promptly froze with disbelief at his strapping reflection.

Everything about him was huge. Unbelievably huge.

He turned to his side and ogled over his humongous chest and back jutting out in either direction. Even his biceps looked prime to rip right out of his checkered suit jacket. Lower on his body, his bulge and tight, muscle ass also jutted out from his midsection, quivering with his movements, both exuding undoubtable manliness. Now in complete privacy, Garrett’s cock rose back up to full mast. His body - it reminded him of Cliff’s - his new father - unyieldingly masculine and provocative. He was burning up under this sexy yet stifling outfit his butler had picked out.

“I’m an Atkninson,” he said to himself, eager to look like just his father - his idol.

With a distinct set of cracks, his stubby chin erupted forward, immediately doubling its width and acquiring a brand new shovel-shape. Any awkward half-grown teenage facial hair vanished with it, endowing Garrett with a clean-shaven, spotless chin accompanied by the subtle aroma of expensive aftershave. Next his lips inflated like two balloons, puffing out to an extremely kissable level. His teeth straightened and became a pure shade of white. Transfixed by his reflection, Garrett watched in wonder as his unsightly pimples and zits were eradicated from his face. In one swift blink, his eyes changed from hazel to a bright blue accompanied by a slightly thicker yet attractive nose. Propelled down by an invisible wave, Garrett’s unkempt bowl cut was finally subdued and all of the long, strands shortened to a preppy, professional length. An expertly-placed layer of gel coated the young man’s greasy brown hair, slicking it back in an instant, taking off a few inches with it.

“Mmm fuck,” Garrett huffed as he swore he felt a gust of air rush over his head. A glorious tidal wave of bright blond hair came next, swallowing up his old bushy brunette forever. He wanted to be mad at how preppy he looked, but it didn’t make sense why. This was how he’d dressed his whole life.

“I’m an Atkinson,” Garrett repeated, hard as a rock while he watched his boyish features mature ever so slightly, eradicating anyone ever mistaking him for a teenager ever again and aging him up in a man in his early 20s. That wasn’t who he was after all. Everyone was here tonight for his college graduation.

Garrett was treated to a final, illustrious animation of his altering face in the mirror as any remaining “Garrett-hood” he had was eliminated. His hairline pulled down slightly making his forehead less prominent, his eyes grew a little closer together, and his ears shrunk ever so slightly. And then as if Garrett had been staring at some magic-eye poster, it all clicked into place. His handsome face looked just like a younger version of his father. “Fuck yeah, I’m…Vincent Atkinson,” he trembled, his voice rife with anticipation.

That utterance - it sent a shockwave through Vincent. In an instant, an invisible sonic boom erupted through the room. It forced down his eyes and locked all of his handsome new attributes in place - never to be taken from him. Simultaneously, his rock-hard cock became flaccid. When Vincent reopened his eyes, he was left staring at his reflection in the mirror and there was a watery sheen over his aquamarine-shaded eyes. He was on the verge of crying for some reason? He blinked a few times and the tears only welled up further in his eyes. The lifetime of Garrett Carmicheal disappeared, replaced by a brand new handsome stud. Forever.

The instant Vincent’s mind transformed, the bathroom door flung open and in stepped a familiar, enormous man.

He flinched. His eyes were still watering. Why wouldn’t they stop? Why did he feel so sentimental all of a sudden?

Vincent’s father’s stern face immediately softened as he sidled up to his son. “Hey, hey, it’s alright to cry at these things, Vince,” he soothed his father as he wrapped his tree trunk of an arm around his son’s shoulders.

Vincent sighed and a single tear rolled down his cheek before he could stop it. The emotions were so much. He couldn’t believe what he’d been through. All of the schooling and now this - a graduation: which felt like the destruction of his youth. “I don’t even know why I’m crying,” he admitted, his voice hardly trembling. “It’s just so much. I can’t believe I’m like…like a real adult now.”

“It’s alright. Sometimes the emotions can be too much to endure. Come on, bring it in,” Vincent’s dad said, pulling his son in close for a mighty bear hug, which was immediately reciprocated. Immense strength radiated between the Atkinson men as they squeezed each other tenderly as hard as they could. The immeasurable comfort of his father - the man who had helped shape him into the confident, buff specimen he was meant to be - was so much to bear. An involuntary whimper escaped Vincent’s lips as he rested his head on top of one of his father’s strong shoulders. “I love you, kid. I’m so proud of you. We all are!” Vincent’s father added as the two released each other. He wiped a tear of his own from his own face and exhaled.

“Thanks dad,” Vincent replied before coughing and standing up straight again. He sighed and re-flattened one of his French cuffs - obsessed with the idea that his clothes were just an extension of his masculinity. Formalwear was always such a confidence-booster. Reginald had helped inspire that in him. “I think I’m alright now,” Vincent smiled. “I really needed that.”

“Anytime,” Vincent’s dad replied and the two of them headed back to the bathroom door, their two muscular butts both wider than the doorway. “How’s it feel to be a graduate?”

“Incredible,” Vincent smiled. “Like the world is at my fingertips.”

#male tf story #age progression #mental change #reality change #age progression tf #male transformation #muscle growth tf #businessman #male transformtaion #sartorial #weight gain tf #weight gain #wealthy #jock #preppy #socialite #butler

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eretzyisrael · 5 months

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by Shiryn Ghermezian

Former Miss Israel Noa Cochva talking to New Yorkers about Israel on May 6, 2024. Photo: Screenshot

Former Miss Israel Noa Cochva was threatened by an antisemitic woman in New York City this week while trying to have peaceful conversations with locals about Israel.

On Monday, Cochva participated in a social experiment with the organization Facts for Peace in which she walked around Washington Square Park in New York City while holding a sign that read, “I’m an IDF [Israel Defense Forces] soldier, ask me anything.” The 25-year-old beauty queen, who represented Israel in the Miss Universe pageant held in Eilat in 2021, was approached by some pro-Israel supporters who hugged her and thanked her for being brave and speaking out in solidarity with the Jewish state. Speaking to an American military officer who stopped to talk with her, Cochva discussed feeling a sense of purpose for serving her country. Cochva served as a combat medic in the ongoing Israel-Hamas war in Gaza.

However, she also received a negative response from other New Yorkers, some of whom called her a “war criminal” and said, “This is f—king stupid. You guys should go home.” When one man asked Cochva,”“How do you sleep at night?” she clapped back: “I sleep really well because I know I’m on the right side of history.”

In a video from the social experiment that was shared on Instagram by both Facts for Peace and Cochva, the former beauty pageant queen could be seen talking to a man on camera when a woman crashed their discussion and said, “Sorry to interrupt, I heard there was a Zionist here.” The same woman lunged at Cochva’s team with a knife, cursed at them, and berated the group by calling them “little Zionists.” She also told Cochva’s cameraman, “My daddy owns your little Jewish b—ch daddy.”

When Cochva’s group invited her to have a conversation with the beauty queen, she avoided the opportunity by giving excuses such as, “No, I only care about being seen” and “I only speak ASL [American Sign Language].” When she asked one man in Cochva’s group for some of his water and he said no, she replied, “Oh, you’re a Zionist. I get it.”

Cochva filmed a video after the incident commenting on what took place and the criticism she faced from Israel-haters. While holding back tears, she told the camera, “I was just trying to have peaceful conversations with them. But it’s a whole different experience to witness something like that. We can’t let things like this happen.”

On Wednesday, the Instagram account Jew Hate Database exposed the knife-wielding woman as Ruby Marzovilla, a graduate of Oberlin College in Ohio who works as a “professional performing artist” and “transformative mediator,” according to her LinkedIn page.

#noa cochva #miss israel #facts for peace #ruby marzovilla

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randomtimes-com · 2 years

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First Monday of the New Year: discover the lost celebration of Handsel Monday!

For more than 500 years, many Scots considered Handsel Monday as the great winter holiday of the year.

Today, (January 2, 2023) is Handsel Monday, the first Monday of the New Year and, in parts of Scotland and Ireland, it was the day in which you’d “handsel” a child some money in a bid to bring them some luck and hope that they’d always have money during the year. A little bit of hope and good luck will do us no harm these days! Among the rural population of Scotland, “Auld Hansel Monday”, was…

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#Europe #folklore #History #holidays #human #international #Ireland #January #local history #Monday #news #oddities #people #scotland #stories #today #traditions #winter #world

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rocklandhistoryblog · 2 years

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#MarkerMonday

The First Courthouse Marker

A log structure, with whipping posts and stocks, was erected on this Tappan green C. 1691. Here justice was administered to all of Orange County, which then included present Rockland. A more permanent courthouse and "gaol," built in 1739, was destroyed by fire in 1774. New City became the seat of government when the County of Rockland was set off from Orange in 1798.

Erected 1988 by The Historical Society of Rockland County and The Orangetown Tricentennial Committee.

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Since the Historical Society of Rockland County began its marker program in 1980, we have placed a total of 81 historical markers on posts and three plaques on boulders around the county.

A number of criteria are used to select sites for HSRC markers. They include: -Association of a site with a noted person or family in Rockland County;

-Association with an important event in Rockland, New York State, or national history;

-Significant architectural or archaeological features.

If you are interested in sponsoring a historical marker and making a lasting contribution to Rockland history, please contact us by email at [email protected].

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#tappan #tappanhistoricdistrict #orangetown #richinhistory #rocklandcounty #rocklandhistory #hudsonvalley #hudsonrivervalley #historicalmarker #firstcourthouse #colonialamerica

#rockland history #local history #rocklandhistory #rockland county #nyshistory #nys history #orangetown #historic preservation #hudson river #hudson river valley #marker Monday #colonial America

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2smolbeans · 1 year

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I am OBSESSED with your Obey Me writings. Would it be possible to something where one of the brothers (or others) disguises themselves as someone else in order to sleep with their darling? Imagine if you tried to run away and they're still trying to make you love them so they know they can't just force themself onto you, but at the same time they NEED your body. Maybe it's even a continuous thing, imagine the horror if every new lover you take on turns out to be them. Over and over again you try to run away but end up running right back into their arms. The gaslighting potential is perfect for a yandere who wants the more subtle approach.

ANONN THISSS 💖💖 Also sorry this took so long to finish 😭

A Demon Inside The Church

Yandere Satan x Antro/mythologist reader

Tags: Religious themes, gaslighting, manipulation, minor nsfw depictions, stalking, impersonation, minor character death, deception, body marking, paranoia, attempts at escaping, Mc has a crush on someone, branding pact mark, possessive behavior, isolation.

*This is unedited and long

___________________________

You weren't always a superstitious person. In fact, you were a person of science, an atheist. However, you were always fascinated with what stories life had to offer, its history, and, as of recently, its beliefs. Mythos, urban legends, and religions- it had caught your eye when your philosophy professor had mentioned them in his typical lesson. A one-off mention, but you decided to look more into it. For some reason, it had unlocked a childhood memory of when you used to read Greek mythology back in middle school.

As of late, you started going to the church near your university campus. You weren't Christian, and by no means did you believe in an afterlife. But you were curious about Christianity and its beliefs. In the beginning, you weren't fascinated with the repetitive worship music that sounded the same. If anything, you had a hard time staying awake as the singers kept repeating the same words and phrases over and over.

But it was worth staying as the sermons would begin after. Each sermon teaches a new belief, a new lesson, a new verse. You were in awe with how the pastor would passionately preach his words, the things you'd learn about the people in the church.

It made you curious about what it would be like to study and record the cultures, religions, and traditions of people around the world. After all, if just learning and investigating your typical local church from an academic point of view was enjoyable, imagine the possibilities of branching out! Maybe perhaps becoming an anthropologist wouldn't be so bad.

You balanced it out, your school, and then your church. For once, everything felt like it was in place, you had reconnected with your old passion, recognizing faces, making acquaintances. You were truly happy.

Funny enough, you even met this guy who happened to be around the same age as you.

Brown eyes, brown hair. He was an average looking guy, nothing made him stand out. You didn't know his name, or if he went to the same university. But every Monday at exactly 3am, he'd show up and read at the library. It was interesting- he was interesting.

Like the bored nerd you were, you started speculating in your head. Why did he always appear at 3am? Was he perhaps a ghost that would only appear in the witching hours? A vampire that walked amongst the earth when it was dark? A low ranking angel who liked to relax in the church?

Of course these were all just make believe scenarios. You had a tendency to make up backstories or scenarios about recurring people. You weren't much of a talker or socializer, you didn't have a lot of close friends, but for some reason you had a bit of courage to go up to the man and talk to him. Though funny enough, the moment you approached him, he was already smiling at you, patting a chair next to him.

Awkwardly shifting your way towards the brown haired male, not expecting him to even acknowledge you. You sat down, trying to muster up any words. But soon enough, you calmed down as he spoke, his warm eyes comforting you as he let out a chuckle.

"Hey, no need to be nervous! I'm just chilling here"

He pulled out the chair for you, his chin resting on the palm of his head as he had a small grin on his face.

"Nono- uh, I'm not nervous..Just uhhh- sorry I don't know..”

You trailed off, unsure of what to do in the small talk.

"It's fine, no sweat! Anyways It's kinda nice talking to you for once"

"Sorry? Wait, do I know you?"

You let out a chuckle, feeling your cheeks heat up from the embarrassment that began to creep up.

"Well, I mean I dunno? I mean if you're wondering how I know you, I just see you around class here and there"

You perked up, accidentally raising your voice from your excitement, immediately covering your mouth with your hands as you apologized.

"WAIT SO YOU- Oh shit sorry..Wait so you also go to Morninghaven?!"

"Always have~"

The two of you talked for hours. By the time you both parted ways, it was already six in the morning. Little by little the two of you got closer, eventually getting each other's numbers and sitting together during each lecture. Apparently, he just liked going to the library at 3am because of how empty it was.

It was funny how the both of you had so much in common.

Damien was his name. That brown haired geek, Damien. It had been at least 5 months since you've known him, and you hated to admit it, but he was the first close friend you've ever made in a while. He indulged in your hyperfixations, listening to your rambles while he also returned the favor. He was talkative, always sure to give a long answer to something so small. Even if you were to ask him about his favorite color, he would somehow turn the conversation about the meaning and ‘biology’ about colors.

“Why do you do that?”

You suddenly asked him, sipping at your drink as he sat across from you.

“Do what?”

You swayed your legs back and forth, the height of the bar stool keeping your feet from touching the ground. Listening to the jumbled up conversations that warmed the cafe, you stared at Damien. Smiling while feeling flustered, eyebrows perked up, your voice perked up - you let your mind speak as you put your drink down.

“We always talk about something small, and somehow it devolves into a whole essay of a conversation about big things!”

You exclaimed, gesturing your hands, hoping that it would help aid your poor choice of words that you thought you made.

“Oh sorry..My bad…”

“Nono! It’s not bad! I’m just wondering why? I thought it would just bore you..Or that I was boring to talk to..”

You deflated, sinking down to your seat as you sipped your drink. Damien leaned forward out, ready to retaliate.

“What?! What are you saying?”

“..Do you just ramble because I don’t bring much to the conversation..?”

The both of you stayed in silence. You were trying to hold back a laugh as you purse your lips, while Damien had a deadpan smile.

“....Stay still. I’m gonna slap you”

Immediately, Damien began to reach for you from across the bar table, nearly knowing it down as you slapped away at his hands from touching your face. You were laughing hysterically while Damien muttered to you to “stay still damn it!” and “This is what you get for being such a dumb dumb!” while he continued his efforts.

“What! Gahh! Stop!!”

“Fine, fine! But y’know, have you ever thought that maybe I like rambling to you because I want to talk more with you?”

…Being around him was one of your favorite things throughout the day. He was just so warm..So comfortable to be around. He made you feel wanted, something that you haven't felt until you met him.

"Are you an angel?"

His voice pitched from the other side of the call.

"Pfft what?! That's so random! What is this all about?"

You playfully rolled your stomach onto the bed, your feet up in the air while your legs kicked up and down slowly.

"I'm serious. Are you?"

Rolling his eyes, Damien let out a smug smirk.

"I dunno, depends on you"

You'd be lying if you said that you didn't have some sort of attraction towards Damien. Sure, it was a small crush, but you were happy with the friendship you had with him. You didn’t care if he had gotten another partner or if he didn’t share the same feelings. You were just happy being with Damien who liked talking to you.

Though, you were wrong about that. Ironically, after a week of not seeing Damien. He had actually opened up to you about his feelings towards you. Telling you how he needed a break from spending time together, how he had realized he was slowly falling for you - how he didn't want to ruin the friendship between the two of you. He was scared to see you once he realized how strong his feelings were towards you. After that, the two of you started dating. The relationship felt strange at first, but you weren't complaining. Whatever you needed, Damien was there. When you were sad- Damien was there to comfort you. Whenever you walked to class, he was always right by your side.

It's always been like that, even when the two of you were just friends. But didn’t Damien also have friends to hangout with as well? He'd always go out with them every now and then, and you'd be left on your own whims.

But now?

There wasn't a time where Damien wasn't by your side.

Another thing you've noticed about Damien was that his temper sometimes got the best of him. When it came to the smallest of things- an ant crawling on one of his books, when you would hold your bible close to your chest, how you sometimes looked at other people for ‘too long’. He would either scoff or nearly pop a vein on his head.

How possessive he was towards you, always kissing you and holding you close. Sweetly convincing you to come back to bed, to always look at him, that he adores you too much for you to leave so soon. Bad mouthing the acquaintances that would take up your time from him. Jokingly wishing that they would drop dead or fall ill so that you could focus on him more.

The way he was prideful and rough he was whenever the two of you would be alone and intimate. His hands all over you, his teeth nipping at every inch of your skin. Almost as if he was in a hurry to get those marks all over your body. How he’d mutter those words into your ear, repeating it like a prayer while he shoved your face to whatever surface there was. How beautiful you looked to be ‘finally his’. How sharper his nails would feel whenever he grabbed your hips. The way he would rhythmically pump into you repeatedly, always in a trance with the purpose of cumming inside you. Always lovingly belittling you whenever you cried from the overstimulation, out matching your stamina in an inhuman amount.

It was weird how he never let you look at him whenever the two of you were doing those sorts of things..Was he trying to hide something?

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"How come you never let me see you whenever we do it?"

"...I don't want you seeing something you might not like.."

"Aww.. You know I love every part of you.. "

He hugged you, resting his head against the crook of your neck.

"If only.."

He was controlive over the little things you did.

“Why don’t you wear this? I don’t want people staring at you..”

“You have some time, right? So why don’t you just come with me instead of them?”

“Are you asking me to lock you up in this room? No? Then why are you making it so hard to just listen to me?”

He was always demanding to know where you were and what your plan for the day was. Making sure he had tabs on your daily activities.

Now that you noticed it, Damien was more..Dry. Sophisticated. Calculative. Sure, he would be somewhat expressive, smiling, and softly speaking. But, back then, he was more loud, more..Different. You felt so alienated from him at times. What happened? You couldn’t put your finger on it.

Was Damien always like this?

Damien even stopped going to the church. You found it weird since Damien loved going to church with you. It was the place you first met each other. He loved how you would study the pastor's words, making serious notes about the lessons. Sitting right next to you as he also made notes regarding the philosophy of Christianity. You were a church duo, even though the both of you weren’t religious.

But now..Damien hated it. Often complaining how annoying the pastor was with his scriptures. The thing he onced loved became the thing he despised the most. He was once friendly with the pastor. Now, you only find him staring eye to eye with the pastor, stoic towards his words.

"Be weary of the sweet temptations of the world. For Satan is cunning, speaking with honeyed words, luring you into damnation."

"But folks, we have to remember this. There is no need to fear him! He is dethroned, casted away by god. We must always declare his defeat. That is how we remove the authority of the enemy.”

You swore from the corner of your eye, and you saw Damien grin from that statement - as if it was personal to him. The next day, the pastor fell severely ill, according to his wife. You were worried, of course. You talked with the pastor here and there, and you wanted to at least send some medicine or soup for the poor man. Damien, however, just laughed at your attempts, hugging you as he pushed his face against your chest. Calling you adorable for ‘wanting to bother the old nut’.

You had a dream a few days later. You were in the church library, alone. Everything was distorted, books meshed together like liquid, people’s faces blurred out. But, Damien was there, waiting for you. The sweet angelic Damien you knew from the past, smiling and patting a chair that was next to him.

“I missed you”

Before you could say anything, you woke up. You couldn’t place on why you were feeling the way you were feeling, but you were incapable of holding back the tears from flowing. It was like you were grieving over a dead person. But, really- you were sad over nothing.

You were slowly getting paranoid over the small things that were starting to recur. Whenever you walked outside, there was always an owl there- it’s neck following your movements. The small whispers that you swore you could’ve heard calling out to you. The hands that would wrap around your waist whenever your back was turned. Your bible and church notes trashed or missing. The bite marks that would appear out of nowhere when you would wake up. Your mind pulled into a trance whenever you would stare too long into Damien’s eyes. The dreams..How your memories were vaugely replaced little by little with someone else you’ve never encountered.

The worst part was, your mind accepted it as normal - your body seemed to relax at the thought of it. But it wasn’t normal, you knew that.

You had a slight theory in your head, a terrifying thought that brought you shaking whenever you questioned its validity. Was this even Damien? He was acting so fucking weird ever since he disappeared for that week. Everything was just so odd. Like you were cursed by an unknown force. What if this wasn’t Damien? What if Damien was missing and you were dating some skin walker? When you knew Damien, he felt so warm and comfortable to be around. Now, if anything- it often felt too possessive, lustful- intense when you were with him.

It didn’t help when you found that mark behind your back.

____________

“Hey..Babe, what is this?”

"Oh that? Yeah, you're weird. I told you going to that party was a bad idea, but you didn't listen. You should've seen my face when you showed me it! Why did you think getting that tattoo was a good idea?"

But it wasn't a tattoo. The more you looked into the strange mark on your back, the more concerned you got. It was green, almost glowing. A demon marking.. A ritualistic mark that bonds you to the demon who claimed you as their own. You've read about this. The mark was equivalent to a proposal, promising an afterlife full of happiness in hell. What party did you even go to?

When did you get this?

"I don't know hun..You just showed up with it"

How the fuck do you get rid of it? Fuck, did you have to get laser surgery?

"Honey, calm down. It's not that bad. It's just a tattoo. Plus, I think it looks wonderful on you"

Nonono, you don't want this. Why was there some fucking satanic pact mark on your body?

"Maybe you should stop reading those books..Or maybe just take a break from the whole demons and angels church thing."

Why was this on your body?

"Honey, you know there’s no harm in it right? I think those books are starting to get into your head.."

Maybe...But still it was fucking creepy! But nonetheless, the constant studying and fixation of demons and hell were starting to tire you out. Maybe, you should focus on your assignments more..

___________

Time passed and it had been at least a year since you and Damien were dating. You were in your final year until graduation, and surprisingly- things were going smoothly. Though your paranoia worsened. You had tried to remove the mark behind your back, even paid for laser surgery to remove it. Explaining to the dermatologist that it was an accident tattoo. Though when the mark was removed, it appeared the next day- as if it completely healed over the treatment.

The relationship hadn’t changed..Damien was still possessive and greedy for your affection. However, Damien was somewhat back to his old self…Somewhat.

Thinking about the past, the stalking, the mark behind your back- it had brought an old familiar feeling back. The church, you wanted to go back and attend it. To at least say hi, for old times sake. To get some answers- some comfort about your fears. You contemplated on bringing Damien, but ultimately heavily decided against it. So you went at night, opening the doors to be greeted with the warmth you were once familiar with.

You smiled as you saw the pastor on the stage, cleaning up and checking up on the instruments for the worship band.

“Sir! How are you? It’s been so long”

The pastor walked towards you, extending his arms out to you as he smiled.

“It’s been so long! What happened? I thought you moved!”

You chuckled, hugging him close as you embraced him, enjoying how cozy he felt.

“Nono! Of course not! Things just got in the way. But I’m glad you’re still here”

The pastor stepped away, eying you up and down, wanting to say something before holding back as he motioned you to follow him. Walking behind him, you both ended up in the office that was located in the basement of the church.

“Sit, I want to talk to you about something”

He sat down behind the table, rummaging through the wooden desk, looking for something as you sat across him.

“I’m a bit worried for you. You disappeared for a while..Something seems off about you..Is anything bothering you?”

You sat quiet for a bit. Should you mention the mark? You wanted to, but you were scared with the answer that would come out. So you didn’t mention it, but you mentioned the other instances you felt when something was wrong.

“Well..I felt paranoid. Whenever I’m not looking it felt like someone was there, touching and whispering in my ear..There’s always there..Like-”

“An unease? That the room feels a lot heavier?”

“Yeah..Exactly like that..But it’s no longer like that! Sure it’s here and there, but it’s really nothing”

The pastor just stared at you. Biting his lip before handing you two things. Anointing oil, and a bottle of holy water..

"I think you should take these. The anointing oil will help protect whatever room, person, or thing of yours"

You took it, examining the items as he continued speaking to you.

"With the oil, you just take a bit of it on your finger and draw a cross on it. It's best that you say a prayer before it"

You nodded your head, smiling as he continued.

“I plead the blood of Jesus Christ over this room. I pray and demand that any spirits in this room be gone in the name of the lord. That this oil that is anointed with the holy spirit will shield and protect me from Satan.”

"Like that?"

Smiling, he gestured his hands, telling you to hold the items close to you.

"Of course! And with the holy water..Well I'm assuming you've watched a bunch of horror movies haha!"

Thanking the pastor, you eventually made your way back home. Promising that you would keep in touch with him as he ushered you outside the doors. When you finally arrived at your dormitory, you let out a scream as Damien stood in front of you.

“Jesus! Damien! Don’t just stand there!”

“Where were you?”

Oh right, you didn’t tell him..

“I was just out running some errands, walking around, sorry I forgot to tell you..”

You felt more worried about him finding out about going back to the church rather than his concern for you.

“Are you lying?”

You exclaimed as you dropped your bag, patting his shoulder as your lips stretched out to a thin line.

“Damien..I would never lie to you..”

You almost felt guilty for deceiving him, but you didn’t want him to know.

“..Well, let’s go back to bed okay? The bed felt cold without you..So please?”

He pleaded with you, turning off the lights, guiding you to the bed short after as his hands grabbed onto yours.

“Haha, of course.”

“I love you so much..”

______________

You’ve been thinking about it, using the oil and holy water. When Damien was gone for an hour to do an exam, he needed to pass. You, who were free from all of your work, decided to open the anointing oil. Putting a few drops of the oil on the tip of your finger, you anointed the room. Drawing a cross, as you said a small prayer.

Maybe one or two more would be best? You thought of nothing of it. It was just a gift, something that you wanted to try. Something that would perhaps ease your fear. Nothing would come out of it.

But something did.

Damien had a severe headache and reaction the moment he stepped in your room. Groaning in pain as he nearly fell to the floor. Clutching his head in pain as the ungodly sounds of wheezing came out of his throat. You were terrified as you saw Damien try to get ahold of himself. Whispering to himself while you stood there, frozen.

Adrenaline rushed through your body as a million thoughts went through your head. He was just stressed, right? He just came back from an exam, maybe he's tired. You tried to rationalize your extreme theories to calm yourself down. But even then, a few words had slipped out of your mouth - unconsciously wanting to test out your theory.

"Get behind me Satan."

He knelt as he stared at you in disbelief.

".......What?"

Your voice shook in fear, your eyes furrowing as you stared at your boyfriend.

“You heard me. Who are you?”

Fixing his composure, Damien looked at you concerned. Cautiously approaching you while also keeping a safe distance.

“Honey, what are you talking about? Calm down okay? Take a deep breath, I was just a bit stressed from staying up all night”

You sneered as you were quick to grab the holy water from your cabinet, loosening the cap as you raised your voice.

“Cut the shit. G-God..What did you do to Damien?!”

Tearing up, you shouted as you splashed the holy water at him. Making sure to throw a large amount towards his face.

“Honey what are you talkin- FUCK!”

He sneered in pain, cowering down as he tried to cover himself. Now you were panicking as your theory was confirmed. You had almost felt bad, stupid, delusional even. But now? Your fight or flight senses were triggered.

“W-Why did that hurt you?! HUH?! T-TELL ME!”

You waved the bottle frantically. Your eyes widening as you saw his skin burning in agitation from the water that hit his skin. He tried to excuse himself, to save whatever grace he had. But you weren’t having it. Screaming out scriptures, dousing him in holy water- you had eventually revealed him for what he truly was.

Blonde hair, curled horns protruding out of his head, the sharp tail that moved side to side swiftly. He wasn't human. This wasn't Damien.

“This hurts you! You’re..A demon..In the name of the holy-"

But before you could finish your sentence, your prayer, your last ditch effort to handle the situation, he interrupted you. Rushing towards you he pinned you against the cabinet that you were standing behind. His hands gripping onto the edges of the wood, your body sandwiched in between the hard surface and his chest. With nowhere to escape, you tried screaming- but he was quick to wrap a hand around your throat, threatening to squeeze deathly tight, warning you to keep quiet.

“Are you finished? I could kill you right now and take you with me for all eternity. But I would rather take my time and not hurt you... So just be good for me, okay?”

You nodded your head frantically, trying to speak as your words were whispered. He eyed you, loosening his grip around your neck.

“Why? Why are you doing this? Who are you?”

In awe, his lips softly kissed your cheek, trying to comfort you as you teared up from fear.

“Aww..Love..Well, it’s obvious isn’t it? Satan, that’s who I am. I know this is a lot for you but, I want you to know that I love you. Okay?”

Satan.

Satan?

The demon that replaced Damien, the one who made you breakfast everyday. The one who was jealous whenever you dared speak to anyone. The one you gave your virginity to..?

Satan himself was in love with you? Satan, the prince of darkness, one of the rulers of hell- was here professing his love to you. How long has he been using Damien’s face for? Where was Damien if he was taking his place?

“Where’s Damien then? What did you do to him?”

You asked, your lips shuddering as you thought about him. If he had disappeared, then..

“Don’t worry about him, he's fine. Better than how he was wasting his life away before”

A surge of panic coursed through your body, your hands instinctively shoved Satan away with all of your strength.

“YOU KILLED HIM?!”

Unfazed, he sighed as if you were overreacting. His palms reached out towards you, telling you to calm down from your outburst.

“Now, he wasn’t in any pain. He didn’t even see it coming, so don’t worry about him. Afterall, he became the sweet angel you always thought of him as. So either way, everyone benefits in this situation”

Your jaw clenched as your eyes wavered at the demon who stood in front of you.

“I’m not going to hurt you...I’m not doing this for the sake of destroying your life. In fact- I’m doing it for the sake of making it better! I love you, you don’t understand - I need you. You fascinate me - you're the only human on this earth I deem tolerable!"

"I had to do it, I know it’s hard for you to understand, but Damien was just a nobody in your life. There are lots of people like him out there in the world. So please, just think for a moment."

You recoiled as you felt his sharp nails softly outline the curves of your face. Cringing as you stood there fear, hearing his insane ramblings.

“You’ve read about me. Studied me. Talked about me. You were just as interested in me as I was for you. Don’t you think that's special?”

Bitterly, you spat at his face.

"I want you gone. Out of my life. I will never love you- you'll never have me. Get out."

He looked at you, almost remorseful as you glared at him- only to then smirk and roll his eyes..And with that, he disappeared in a blink of an eye. For a good year, even until graduation- you never saw him again. It was almost as if he never existed.

All the messages, the call histories, everything- they were gone.

____________________

It had been a few years ever since he stopped approaching you, only deciding to watch you from a distance. Hiding in the shadows, lurking in the small corners of your home, he admired you.

It drove him mad when observed your cute little attempts at avoiding him. Always wearing that small cross around your neck, never interacting with anyone outside of the church. Praying everyday on the edge of your bed before you go to sleep, hoping to ward him off forever.

You were such an adorable little sheep. So desperate to keep him away, not knowing it only made him want you more. Every night he watched you, hungrily devouring your body with his eyes, enjoying how meek you've become. He wanted to take you right then and there, surprising you with his presence when he would emerge from the shadows. How would your face look in fear? Would you scream at him? Attempt to perform an exorcism?

Would it be enjoyable watching you break down from the spot? Hearing you whimper when he would corner you. Watching you plead for him to leave you alone. The slow burn of you fearing him, only to reach out to him out of desperation when he's hovering over you.

You're starved aren't you? Lonely, and starved for an ounce of emotional attention. You haven't been talking to a lot of people lately, even when you're in the illusion of safety when you're in the church. He felt so bad for you, yet so eager for you. All vulnerable and alone..You're still sad about that human boy weren't you?

That's okay.

There was nothing a new face couldn't fix.

Sooner or later, he'll have you forget about him. He'll have you wrapped up around his finger. You'll live your perfect minuscule human life with him until death do you part- temporarily. After all, heaven wouldn't allow an angel with the mark of the beast into their pearly gates, would they?

A new face, a new name. He would meet you again at the church. Charming you with his words, coaxing you with his sweet voice that was hard to resist. Making you smile again, hearing that angelic laugh of yours, feeling your warmth when you cuddled underneath him.

He missed how good it felt to be with you. He loved every bit of it. How it gave him an excuse to act out on his pent up urges towards you. To have your legs so nicely wrapped around his torso, drowning in pure lust from those sweet sounds you'd make. To finally have your body all to himself.

It wouldn't last for long though.. You were smart- too smart. You always somehow found out a way to identify him through the smallest of ways. Through the subtle gestures he'd make, the appearance he decided to appear as, or even from saying an old ancient spell against him just to see his reaction. You even went as far as spraying him with holy water like some sort of cat at one point.

How intentive!

That's why he loved you. You were so intelligent, brighter than most. That's why he didn't mind doing it over and over again. Like a game of cat and mouse. You'd gain a sense of security, feeling confident that the man right next to you wasn't him- only for it to break again when you came to terms with the truth.

He didn't mind. It was exciting watching you ponder about him. It was special what the both of you had together. Seeing your face contort in pure anguish and rage when you realized that the person you had slept with, the one you had trusted your whole heart with, was only him the entire time. How you would beg, even try to bribe him with intimacy and sex- just for him to leave you alone. Pleading him to stop impersonating people and potential partners.

"But this is fun darling. Watching you break down every time~"

"I can't just give it all up for something I can do whenever we're together"

"There's really no issue here, you're the only one who's making it a problem"

"Running away, panicking for no reason…You already know I won't hurt you. I just want to love you."

"So really, when will you stop?"

No matter how much you run, he'll always have you in his arms. Even in death, you won't ever be able to escape him.

How long will it take for you to crumble and accept him? When will you stop running away from him? Time and time again, you would run away- only to come crawling back to him.

So why don't you just accept the inevitable?

_____________________________

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