#very wide coverage

[thienvaldram]

The Doctor's Timeline (v14)

v1-v13 were somewhere else

Not Authorial Confirmation of Anything done as speculation only

(Full res version)

[mariocki]

RIP Jean Marsh (1.7.1934 - 13.4.2025)

"Well, I’d been friends with Eileen [Atkins] for six or seven years when we started talking about it. We came from the same background, a working-class background, and we were thinking idly about trying to create something, maybe a television series, maybe a film, we weren’t quite sure. And the idea gelled through two different experiences: one was watching The Forsyte Saga, that was made sometime in the '60s, and we thought, 'Well, that’s all really wonderful, but who washed the clothes? Who ironed them? Who’s cleaning the boots? Who’s doing all the work?' And we thought, 'Gosh, it’s so unfair you never see the real workers.' That was one seed. We had chips on our shoulders. And then Eileen found a photograph of her mother with a group of servants standing by a horse-drawn bus for a servants’ outing, so we thought, 'Let’s write about downstairs people.'"

"I get a residual for the idea [for Upstairs, Downstairs] as much as I get a residual for the acting. It's a very low fee. I think I got something like $100 an episode initially for the idea, and my royalty is based on that rate. I've got a saying: 'If it had been made in America I'd be Mary Tyler Moore. As it is, I'm Mary Tyler Less.'"

[gingersnapwolves]

So today I want to talk about puberty blockers for transgender kids, because despite being cisgender, this is a subject I’m actually well-versed in. Specifically, I want to talk about how far backwards things have gone.

This story starts almost 20 years ago, and it’s kind of long, but I think it’s important to give you the full history. At the time, I was working as an administrative assistant for a pediatric endocrinologist in a red state. Not a deep deep red state like Alabama, we had a little bit of a purple trend, but still very much red. (I don’t want to say the state at the risk of doxxing myself.) And I took a phone call from a woman who said, “My son is transgender. Does your doctor do hormone therapy?”

I said, “Good question! Let me find out.”

I went into the back and found the doctor playing Solitaire on his computer and said, “Do you do hormone therapy for transgender kids?” It had literally never come up before. He had opened his practice there in the early 2000s. This was roughly 2006, and the first time someone asked. Without looking up from his game of Solitaire, the doctor said, “I’ve never done it before, but I know how it works, so sure.”

I got back on the phone and told the mom, who was overjoyed, and scheduled an appointment for her son. He was the first transgender child we treated with puberty blockers. But not, by far, the first child we treated with puberty blockers, period. Because puberty blockers are used very commonly for children with precocious puberty (early-onset puberty). I would say about twenty percent of the kids our doctor treated were for precocious puberty and were on puberty blockers. They have been well studied and are widely used, safe, and effective.

Well. It turned out, the doctor I worked for was the only doctor in the state who was willing to do this. And word spread pretty fast in the tight-knit community of ‘parents of transgender children in a red state’. We started seeing more kids. A better drug came out. We saw some kids who were at the age where they were past puberty, and prescribed them estrogen or testosterone. Our doctor became, I’m fairly sure, a small folk hero to this community. 

Insurance coverage was a struggle. I remember copying articles and pages out of the Endocrine Society Manual to submit with prior authorization requests for the medications. Insurance coverage was a struggle for a lot of what we did, though. Growth hormone for kids with severe idiopathic short stature. Insulin pumps, which weren’t as common at the time, and then continuous glucose monitoring, when that came out. Insurance struggles were just part and parcel of the job.

I remember vividly when CVS Caremark, a pharmaceutical management company, changed their criteria and included gender dysphoria as a covered diagnosis for puberty blockers. I thought they had put the option on the questionnaire to trigger an automatic denial. But no - it triggered an approval. Medicaid started to cover it. I got so good at getting approvals with my by then tidy packet of articles and documentation that I actually had people in other states calling me to see what I was submitting (the pharmaceutical rep gave them my number because they wanted more people on their drug, which, shady, but sure. He did ask me if it was okay first).

And here’s the key point of this story:

At no point, during any of this, did it ever even occur to any of us that we might have to worry about whether or not what we were doing was legal.

It just never even came up. It was the medically recommended treatment so we did it. And seeing what’s happening in the UK and certain states in America is both terrifying and genuinely shocking to me, as someone who did this for almost fifteen years, without ever even wondering about the legality of it.

The doctor retired some years ago, at which point there were two other doctors in the state who were willing to prescribe the medications for transgender kids. I truly think that he would still be working if nobody else had been willing to take those kids on as patients. He was, by the way, a white cisgender heterosexual Boomer. I remember when he was introduced to the concept of ‘genderfluid’ because one of our patients on HRT wanted to go off. He said ‘that’s so interesting!’ and immediately went to Google to learn more about it. 

I watched these kids transform. I saw them come into the office the first time, sometimes anxious and uncertain, sometimes sullen and angry. I saw them come in the subsequent times, once they were on hormone therapy, how they gradually became happy and confident in themselves. I saw the smiles on their faces when I gave them a gender marker letter for the DMV. I heard them cheer when I called to tell them I’d gotten HRT approved by insurance and we were calling in a prescription. It was honestly amazing and I will always consider the work I did in that red state with those kids to be something I am incredibly proud of. I was honored to be a part of it.

When I see all this transgender backlash, it’s horrifying, because it was well on the way to become standard and accepted treatment. Insurances started to cover it. Other doctors were learning to prescribe it. And now … it’s fucking illegal? Like what the actual fuck. We have gone so far backwards that it makes me want to cry. I don’t know how to stop this slide. But I wrote this so people would understand exactly how steep the slide is.

[inkoflethe]

This is not an interesting story at all but my blog my right to make boring posts?

I went to the Dr on Monday (new office since I moved states last month! They seemed pretty good which I'm thankful for) and as part of the intake forms, they asked if I had gotten the current cycle's flu shot.

It being Aug, I had no idea when the cycle restarted. At some point in the summer, I was pretty sure but beyond that, I never needed to know.

It was already the new cycle as it turns out so I have not gotten my flu shot. I usually do it shortly after my mid-Sep birthday.

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (2/2) | two string bathing suit

୨ৎ : featuring : kimi antonelli, ollie bearman, yuki tsunoda, isack hadjar, liam lawson, and lance stroll (click here for part one) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : your f1!boyfriend reacting to you showing him two strings as a bathing suit (tiktok trend - click for reference)

୨ৎ : genre : romance comedy ୨ৎ : tws : slightly suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 1706

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : lance stroll has been officially added as per request >.<

ʚ・kimi antonelli

you peeked around the corner into the hotel room, barely holding in your laughter. kimi was lounging on the bed, headphones on, scrolling his phone with that focused little frown he always wore when he was pretending not to care.

“kimi,” you called sweetly, hiding the tiny bundle of yarn behind your back. “got my race weekend bikini for the yacht. wanna see?”

he looked up instantly. “yeah, sure.”

you stepped out.

and revealed it.

kimi sat up like someone had just smacked him with a steering wheel. his eyes locked on the two limp strings dangling from your hand. there was a long silence. he looked personally attacked.

“…that’s it?”

you nodded, holding it up like a trophy. “cute, right?”

his entire face turned red. “that’s not—where’s the rest of it?!”

“this is it. full coverage.” you twirled it dramatically. “very ‘high fashion.’”

kimi blinked so hard you thought he might pass out. “i can’t handle this.”

you burst out laughing. “so you hate it?”

“i—no! i mean, it’s not like—it’s just—” he ran a hand through his hair, face burning. “that’s barely string! you can’t wear that!”

“but what if i did wear it?”

he stared at you, scandalized. “you’d cause an incident. i’d get black-flagged emotionally.”

you walked closer, waving the bikini in front of him. “so you wouldn’t let me wear it?”

“i’d let you wear it in a locked vault, maybe,” he muttered, grabbing a pillow and burying his face in it.

you flopped beside him on the bed, laughing as he groaned dramatically. “you’re evil.”

“you’re dramatic.”

“i’m right. that’s not a bikini, that’s a cry for help.”

ʚ・ollie bearman

you strutted into the hotel room like you were doing a runway walk, holding a suspiciously small bag in one hand. ollie was mid-bite of a granola bar, half-watching some race replay on the tv.

“babe,” you said sweetly. “i got a new swimsuit for the weekend.”

he looked up with zero hesitation. “show me.”

you reached into the bag and slowly, dramatically, pulled out two strings.

that was it.

just… two strings.

ollie blinked. “ha-ha. okay. where’s the rest of it?”

“this is it.”

his mouth opened. no words came out.

you held it up. “don’t you like it?”

he made a sound somewhere between a choke and a laugh. “i—yeah, of course i do, you look amazing in anything, but babe. babe. i can see my future falling apart.”

you walked closer, biting back a smile. “so you do like it.”

“i like it in the way that i like setting things on fire. fun, but dangerous. for my health.”

he rubbed his hands over his face. “you’re gonna kill me. actually kill me. like, emotionally and legally. i’m gonna go to jail because of that bikini.”

you stepped even closer, brushing the string against his arm. “what if i wore it to the hotel pool?”

he made a noise. loud. “i’m calling security. you need to be escorted back into real clothes.”

you burst out laughing. he looked at you, wide-eyed and flushed, then grinned. “you know what? wear it.”

you blinked. “wait, what?”

he leaned in with a cocky little smirk. “wear it. but only if you let me be your lifeguard.”

you blinked harder. “ollie—”

“you’re gonna need saving,” he winked. “from me.”

ʚ・yuki tsunoda

you stepped into the hotel room like you were about to drop a bomb. yuki was curled up on the couch in a hoodie, munching on chips and half-watching a replay of his onboard camera.

“babe,” you said, holding up a suspiciously flat little package. “new bikini just came in.”

without looking up: “yeah? show me.”

“that’s not a bikini,” he said carefully, like he was speaking to a wild animal. “that’s—no. no. what?”

you held it up. “it’s trendy!”

“it’s thread,” he hissed, standing up like the strings offended him on a spiritual level. “that’s not clothes. that’s… dental floss in distress!”

you fought a grin. “i think it’s cute.”

“you think crime is cute?”

you walked closer, holding it up to your body with a mock pose. “so i can’t wear it to the pool?”

yuki stared at you for three full seconds. “if you wear that to the pool, i will fake an injury to stay in the room and make sure no one else sees you.”

“that’s a little dramatic.”

“you’re dramatic! what happens if it unravels? what happens if there’s a breeze?!”

you giggled, reaching for his hoodie drawstrings and tugging him toward you. “you’re panicking.”

“i’m not panicking,” he said firmly. “i’m just… concerned. deeply. as a boyfriend. and a citizen.”

you tilted your head. “so i can’t wear it?”

he sighed, long and slow, then muttered something under his breath in japanese that definitely included the word “dangerous.”

then he looked up at you with wide, slightly desperate eyes. “you can wear it. inside. with the curtains closed. while i hold the emergency blanket just in case.”

you grinned. “so you do like it.”

“i never said that,” he huffed, pulling you into his hoodie-covered arms. “i said i need time to emotionally recover.”

ʚ・isack hadjar

you barely got two steps into the hotel room before isack glanced up from his phone.

“what’s that look?” he asked suspiciously, eyes narrowing.

“i got a new bikini,” you said innocently, holding up a little mesh bag.

he scoffed, lounging back on the bed. “are you going to show me something i haven’t seen?”

you pulled it out.

two strings. two. one knot. a whisper of fabric. that’s it.

there was silence.

then:

“mon dieu.” he shot upright like he’d been electrocuted.

you tried to stifle your laugh. “it’s couture!”

“that’s not couture, that’s catastrophe.” he was already pacing. “who sold you this? who approved this?! was it made by… criminals?”

he grabbed a pillow and threw it onto the bed dramatically. “you want to wear this? in public?!”

you shrugged. “maybe.”

he clutched his chest like you had physically wounded him. “do you hate me? is this a test? is this revenge for that time i forgot your fries?”

you walked toward him, bikini still dangling from your fingers. “so… you don’t want me to wear it?”

he blinked. hesitated. swallowed.

“okay,” he said, exhaling. “you can wear it. but only if i walk ten feet behind you with a stick to chase away the men.”

“romantic,” you teased.

“i will fight for your honor.”

you leaned in, brushing a kiss to his cheek. “you’re such a drama queen.”

he glared at the swimsuit one more time, muttering in rapid french about “scandals” and “yarn” and “the end of society.”

then: “…but you would look hot in it. i’m not blind.”

ʚ・liam lawson

“what’s going on,” he asked immediately. “you’re doing that face. the chaos face.”

“i bought a new bikini,” you said sweetly, holding up a very small, very questionable package.

he raised an eyebrow. “why does it look like you bought it from a fishing supplies store?”

you opened it.

and dropped the strings onto the bed.

liam stared at the two strands of fabric like they had personally betrayed him. then looked at you. then back at them.

“…cool,” he said finally. “so you’ve given up on fabric entirely. that’s where we are.”

you smirked. “it’s fashion.”

“it’s fabricophobia.”

“minimalist.”

“no, missing.”

you picked it up, twirled it around your finger. “so i can’t wear it on the yacht?”

he squinted. “you could. you might also get arrested. or knighted. i’m not really sure how monaco works anymore.”

you walked closer, holding it up to your body like it was an award. “you don’t think i’d look good?”

“oh no, you’d look phenomenal. that’s the problem.” he crossed his arms, leaning against the wall like he was considering relocating to another dimension. “if you wear that, i’m gonna have to fight like four yacht guys named jean-luc.”

you laughed, and he tilted his head, smiling.

“you’re a menace,” he said fondly. “but like… a hot one.”

“so you’re letting me wear it?”

“yeah. just tell me when and where so i can book a one-way flight off this planet.”

you stepped closer. “aw, are you jealous?”

he raised a brow. “i’m prepared. there’s a difference.”

you grinned. “i’ll take that as a yes.”

“cool. can’t wait to explain to security why i’m tackling people at the hotel pool.”

ʚ��lance stroll

you walked into the villa with a sleek little shopping bag in hand and a suspicious sparkle in your eye. lance was lounging on the sofa, drink in hand, sunglasses still on indoors like the heir to a fashion dynasty.

“i got something for the yacht,” you said sweetly.

he didn’t even look up. “is it another bathing suit? you have like thirty.”

“yep. except this one is perfect, i do wish it was smaller though.”

“nice. lemme see.”

you pulled it out.

he did a double take so fast his sunglasses nearly flew off.

“…you want this…smaller?” he sat up slowly. “no, seriously. where’s the rest of it?”

you held up the two strings like they were trophies. “trendy, right?”

“that looks like something my grandma’s cat coughed up.”

you grinned. “but imagine me wearing it. on the yacht.”

“i am imagining it. that’s the problem.” he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the “swimsuit” like it owed him money. “there’s gonna be fifty people on that boat. i’ll have to throw them all off.”

“you’re being dramatic.”

“i’m being realistic.”

you giggled, walking over to stand between his knees. “so you’re saying no?”

lance stared at you for a long moment. then he nodded.

“alright,” he said, completely serious. “we’re going to mars.”

you blinked. “what.”

“you wanna wear that? fine. i’ll buy us a spaceship.”

you burst out laughing, but he was still just looking up at you, shaking his head like you’d genuinely broken something in him.

“you’re out here in two pieces of string and a prayer, and i’m supposed to cope?”

“so… you do think i look hot.”

“oh, absolutely,” he said, pulling you into his lap with a sigh. “but i’m rich enough to not share. so start packing. spacesuits only.”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[assumptionprime]

"I Just Don't Think That's Going To Happen"

Good news: I finally made a new comic!

Bad news: It's about something that sucks! If the good news here outweighs the bad, maybe support me on Patreon.

In the midst of talking about how much this sucks, I am extremely fortunate to even be able to move to somewhere safer. Please support those who can't, or who need a helping hand to go somewhere they can be themselves. (Give trans people money)

[Image description: Comic, sixteen panels. Panel 1: Robin speaking on her phone, clearly distressed, tears in her eyes: "I'm telling you that I'm scared. These people-- the kind of people you vote for-- want to take my health care, my rights away from me. I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave my home." The voice from the phone answers: "Well," Large dialogue text in a large white space between panels: "I just don't think that's going to happen." Panel 2: Robin, wide eyes still tearing up, stares in disbelief at her phone. Panel 3: A website heading "Home > News" above a headline that reads "Utah just banned gender-affirming healthcare for transgender kids. These 21 other states are considering similar bills in 2023." Panel 4: Another headline reads "Health care for transgender adults becomes new target in 2023 legislative session." sub heading continues: "Lawmakers prefiled many anti-trans bills ahead of state--" Panel 5: Robin looking at a tablet screen, concerned. Panel 6: Robin siting on a couch, watching TV. A speaker on the TV says: "After the anti-LGBTQ+ campaign prompted several protests and bomb threats made against the Boston facility, the group has now turned its gaze toward the Gender Health Program at Vanderbilt Medical Center in Nashville." Panel 7: Several headlines: "New Tennessee bill banning 'male or female impersonators' in public could criminalize drag performers and trans people" "Missouri lawmakers ban transgender care for minors, restrict coverage for adults" "Tennessee has passed a ban on gender affirming health care for trans kids. The bill's exceptions may only exist on paper" They headlines are accompanied by a map showing the severity of anti-transgender legislation in different US states. Panel 8: Robin's spouse Jordan sitting on the couch, looking up from her laptop toward Robin. Robin is gripping her arm tightly, a look of distress and sadness on her face, tears welling in her eyes. Jordan says "That's it. We're leaving." Panel 9: Robin taping the top of a cardboard moving box, looking over her shoulder toward Jordan, who is saying something as she walks away holding another box. More boxes are stacked behind them. Panel 10: Robin sitting at a table with a large stack of paperwork and holding a pen. She is leaning back and groaning: "Eughhhhhh" Panel 11: Robin standing with three friends, embracing as one of them speaks "I'm glad we got to see you before you left. We'll miss you." Panel 12: Jordan and Robin standing by the open trunk of their car. Several bags and suitcases are loading into the back. Jordan is shoving things in tighter and grumbling "It WILL fit!" Robin, holding a vacuum compression bag of full of clothing that has yet to go in the trunk, looks unsure. Panel 13: Robin and Jordan standing in the empty house, lights off, with sunlight coming in from the windows in the back doors and lighting them from behind. Robin looks upset, Jordan has a comforting hand on her shoulder. Panel 14: Jordan and robin sitting in the very full car, their dog in the back seat. Jordan is driving, Robin in the passenger seat looking out the window. Panel 15: Robin, still in the passenger seat of the car, now propping her head up with her hand on her cheek. She is looking down, seeming morose. Large dialogue text in a large white space between panels: "I just don't think that's going to happen." Panel 16: closer shot on Robin. Her gaze has shifted outside the window, her expression is now bitter, with tears gathering in her eyes.]

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, noncon, poverty & debt, gun violence, organized crime, death threats, arranged marriage

fem reader

Thinking about owing the mob…

Not you specifically, but your family – debt you weren’t aware of before you’re being cashed in to settle it.

You imagined several terrible things before the arrangement was explained to you. 

One of the sons needs a wife with a clean reputation. 

It’s a simple equation. You’re eligible, and he isn’t picky.

And though it leaves you in mourning for a life yet lived, it still comes with a sense of relief. It’s one of the better deals you could’ve gotten. At least you wouldn’t need to witness or partake in any crimes, nor act as a scapegoat for the likes either.

Besides… though you’ve yet to meet your fiancé, you’ve been explained that he only plans on treating you like a wife on and for the camera – that his tastes otherwise lie in the gentlemen’s lounge. 

All you ever have to do is smile. He isn’t interested in anything else.

That’s what you were told, and yet…

“It’s funny.” Your husband says after the wedding ceremony. 

You’re back at the mansion you’re meant to call home. The grounds are about twice the size of the block you come from. Marble, gold, and diamonds – it’s so outrageously excessive it’s shameless. 

“I was told your brothers run routes for us to make ends meet.” He continues, looking at you and the expression on your face as you stare up at the chandelier – it’s clear you’ve never seen anything like it. “Fuck, I mean, I can’t imagine risking my life and still end up needing to pick between food or rent at the end of the day.”

Your gaze falls down to him at that. 

Clad in lush wedding expense – white gown and silver tiara – you still stick out like a sore thumb. Something in the way it wears you and not the other way around. It’s obvious you’re uncomfortable with it all. It’s probably worth more than your family's ever owned.

He steps closer with a chuckle.

“Then, the poor suckers go and fuck up so bad they end up needing to sell their own sister.”

He spots your fists ball at your sides. But you keep your cool. Only a slight grimace curling your lips along a tiny furrow between your brows. It all smoothens into something else when he reaches out to grab your chin.

“What’s even more funny…” He tilts your face in his hand – jaded eyes assessing you like he’s found a coin on the ground. “You don’t look like street trash like I expected.”

Your frown returns, and you try pulling back – but he grabs your arm before you can.

Tsking, “Ah-ah – Remember,” His smile sharpens. “You’re property now. When I touch you, you let it happen.”

You weren’t that easily convinced. He bet you’ve had to fight off a lot of unwanted attention back where you come from. But he isn’t some back-alley thug. When he wants something, he expects it not only to be served on a silver platter but to be hand-fed to him with a silver spoon.

He pulls the gun out from behind him. Slotted in the band of his dress trousers, it had stayed hidden beneath the coverage of his suit jacket during the ceremony.

Your throat dries up, and any protests you had died of thirst along with it – eyes wide as you stare at the piece.

You can’t believe he’d carry that thing into a church with vows upon his lips – now pointing it at the very same wife he’d made those vows to. 

“Make me spend a single bullet, and your family will share the rest.” He taps the barrel’s mouth against the quiver of your lips. “I’d rather not it come to that. It’ll ruin the carpet…”  

You quiver, feeling weak with a shudder – your eyes slip closed with a shivering tear.

“Not to mention this…” He strokes the pitiful droplet off your cheek with the weapon while eyeing the way you quake with grinning eyes. “Pretty little body I’ve only just acquired.” 

BNHA – Dabi

JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji

BLLK – Reo

HxH – Illumi

[prettygirl-gabi]

So Ma, What Do You Wanna Do?

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Short!Reader

Fandom: WNBA-Dallas Wings

Summary: never were just friends…

A/N: starting off Pride with a Hard launch fic

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @zizi-bee-yapping , @latenighttalkinqwp , @fairyblossomsav

The thing about dating Paige Bueckers—America’s golden girl, walking highlight reel, everyone’s favorite hooper—is that no matter how private she tries to be, people watch.

A lot.

Not just fans.

Teammates.

Coaches.

Her family.

Random baristas who pause halfway through her iced matcha because “Wait, are you Paige Bueckers?” And since I’m, well… me—barely 5’2” on a good day wearing heels and introverted enough to disappear in a crowd—we’ve been playing this very careful game.

To the outside world, we’re best friends.

Roommates, if anyone asks.

And yeah, besties hold hands sometimes, maybe nap on each other on planes, maybe share hoodies and match sneakers—but PDA?

Affection that reads as romantic?

Never too much of that. Not yet.

But today? Today changed everything.

It started on a lazy afternoon. Paige had a the day off from practice, and I was curled on the couch in one of her oversized Wings tees—correction: our oversized Wings tees—scrolling through TikTok while she finished up a call with her agent in the other room.

I was bored. Dangerous level bored. So naturally, I fell into a rabbit hole of Paige edits.

Then, BookTok edits/ trends.

The trends kept coming up.

One in particular.

You know the one.

The tall person (Paige). The short person (me). The quiet tension. The “two fingers under the chin, lift your face and make you look them in the eye” trope that sent people feral in the comments.

I’d seen versions of it all week.

And now? All I could think was: Would it really be that hard to recreate?

So I did what any slightly chaotic, secretly in love girlfriend would do.

I set my phone up on the entry shelf behind a plant—just enough coverage to keep it hidden, but still in full frame.

Paige wouldn’t notice. She was too busy dragging herself around the apartment like a sleepy golden retriever in slides.

“Paaaaige,” I sing-songed.

She appeared around the corner, barefoot, hair pulled back, sleepy eyes scanning me like I was up to something.

“What, baby?”

“Dinner,” I said, backing into the doorway casually. “Should we eat out or stay in?”

She shrugged, walking closer putting her hair in a low messy bun. “You wanna go out? I’m good either way. What are you in the mood for?”

I was already fidgeting.

Avoiding her gaze like usual when it came to that topic.

Going out together as just the two of us still felt… vulnerable. I hated being the one people stared at when they recognized Paige in public.

Hated the weird math they did in their heads when they saw us holding hands like, wait… that’s not just a friend, right?

And Paige always noticed when I started deflecting.

“You’re doing the thing again,” she said quietly, stepping closer, her frame easily boxing me in against the doorway.

I glanced away, lips twitching. “What thing?”

“That thing where you look at every surface except my eyes.”

“I dunno,” I mumbled. “That’s why I’m asking you, P.”

She tilted her head, slow and soft. “Nah, baby. We’re not doing that.”

She raised her hand—two fingers under my chin—and lifted my face so we were eye to eye.

Camera still rolling.

“Look at me and tell me what you wanna do, mama.”

I felt myself short-circuit. Literally buffering. If this were a live stream, I’d be frozen in 144p with the spinning wheel of death.

“I—um,” I blinked, eyes wide. “I mean—like—we could go out if you want—”

She hummed. “So, m’onna ask again-ma, what do you wanna do? Because we don’t have to go out if you don’t wanna. I get it. I really do.”

God, her voice was low. Kind. Patient. Gentle dominance at its finest. Her fingers never dropped from my chin.

I melted.

Folded.

Like a human pretzel.

I had nothing left. All thoughts gone.

“We can… we can eat out tonight,” I whispered. “Don’t really feel like cooking. Plus by the time we umm… we ordered and it gets here it’ll be like warm.”

She nodded then leaned in, kissed the side of my forehead, then a quick soft one on my lips and said, “Cool. Get dressed. We’ll hit that TexMex place you like.”

She walked off like she didn’t just drop a TikTok nuke. (Which she had no idea about)

Two hours later, we were seated in a corner booth of La Cabaña, half a bowl into the best queso in Dallas, and I pulled out my phone like it wasn’t burning a hole in my pocket.

“I, uh… may’ve recorded something earlier.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Of me?”

I turned the screen to face her and hit play.

We both watched as she slowly, unknowingly gave the world the softest, most heart-melting alpha moment in TikTok history.

Me, looking like I was trying not to spontaneously combust. Paige, calm and smooth and built like a tall glass of “yes ma’am.”

The trend. Executed. Perfectly.

“Oh,” she said after the video ended. “Baby, you really folded.”

I covered my face with my hand. “I told you. You had me buffering like a broken smart fridge.”

She smiled, barely fighting a laugh. “You gonna post that?”

“Thinking about it, but I dunno” I mumbled.

She shrugged and sipped her horchata. “Post it if you want. I really don’t care. Just know…” She leaned across the table, eyes dropping to my lips. “The PDA? It’s not gonna be ‘friendly hand holding’ after that video goes up.”

I choked on a tortilla chip.

She smirked.

Once back at home, I uploaded it. No captions about “guess who” or “my bestie lol.” No ambiguity. Just the truth.

Caption:

Nothing about this says just friends. Especially not dishing out these types of kisses either.

@PaigeBueckers

#booktoktrend #girlfriendsoftiktok #tallgfshortgf #hardlaunch

Paige’s comment came not even a full minute later.

@/Paige Bueckers:

I said what I said. And I’d say it again. louder. with tongue. 🧏‍♀️💋😈

The likes blew up. Comments exploded. People were freaking out.

• “THE WAY Y/N FOLDED LMFAOOOO IKEA CHAIR ENERGY 🪑😮‍💨”

• “if someone ever said ‘what do you wanna do, mama’ i’d die.”

• “this was not a soft launch. this was a full Broadway debut.”

• “Paige said ✨look at me✨ and we ALL looked.”

• “BookTok ain’t never seen it done so real.”

• “I need this kind of dominance in my life immediately.”

Fran, my childhood(and current) best friend texted within five minutes: “EXCUSE ME?!?! YOU AND PAIGE?!?!?!? I’M CALLING YOU.”

I put my phone face down.

“Too much?” I asked, settling into Paige’s side on the couch.

Her arm slipped around me. “Nah. Just enough.”

We watched the likes climb. The comments multiply. The secret we’d been keeping finally out in the open, loud and proud.

And true to her word, the next time we went out? Paige didn’t just hold my hand.

She kissed me—gently, sweetly—right on the sidewalk. Right in front of everyone.

And not a single person thought we were just best friends again.

Not after that.

Not ever.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!💚💙

                             -prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

[bangchangbinnie]

You Started It / TXT OT5

Pairing: chubby!fem!reader x OT5

A beach day gone wrong—or very, very right. You accidentally pack the wrong bikini. The boys notice. One by one, they take you apart. And you? You take every inch.

EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD MDNI 18+!!🔞

cw: creampie, piv, unprotected sex (DONT BE SILLY >:(), multiple members, nip slip???, ALL of txt are perverts tbh, blowjob (one), group sex, oral (f & m r.) overstimulation, size kink, body worship, praise and degradation, cumplay/breeding kink, all in all very wet

First smut I’ve ever posted :0

—————

It was just supposed to be a beach day.

You’d grabbed a bikini last minute,on sale, barely tried on,and tossed it into your bag without a second thought. The tag said it was your size. Maybe it used to be.

Maybe it wasn’t anymore.

You didn’t realize until you were standing at the edge of the beach towel, towel in one hand, the sound of waves behind you, five pairs of eyes in front of you.

The bikini top barely covered your tits. A little underboob peeked out each time you moved. The bottoms sat low, hugging your hips, dipping under your soft tummy in a way that felt… borderline indecent. And the cut in the back? Not quite a thong, not quite full coverage. Just enough cheek to make it worse.

You tugged nervously at the hem of your bikini top, the fabric stretched tighter than you remembered when you tried it on alone in your bedroom mirror. The snug material dipped low over your chest and clung to every soft curve like it had been poured onto you.

“Is this… too much?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, heat creeping up your neck.

Silence.

Not a single word left their lips.

Yeonjun’s gaze locked onto you like he was physically incapable of looking anywhere else. His eyes dragged over your figure with a stunned intensity,so focused he forgot to blink, his jaw slightly slack. If you looked closely, you could see the pulse in his throat jump.

Beomgyu let out a low whistle that sliced through the quiet like a hot knife. His hand ran through his hair, disheveling it more than usual, the sound of his exhale practically a groan. His gaze dropped to your thighs, then lower, before darting back up and away like he got caught doing something he shouldn’t.

Kai’s lips parted like he was about to speak—but nothing came out. His eyes, usually so gentle and playful, were wide with something heavier. Hungrier. He shifted where he stood, hands flexing at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.

Taehyun cleared his throat, the sound rough and abrupt. He turned his face so fast it looked forced—too quick to be casual, too obvious to be natural. But not before you caught the flicker of something dark and heated in his gaze.

And Soobin…

Soobin just stared.

Completely still.

Eyes wide, pupils blown, mouth slightly open. His water bottle was lifted halfway to his lips but frozen there, forgotten. A single bead of condensation slid down the plastic and fell to the ground. He didn’t even blink as his gaze swept over you,slowly, like he was memorizing every inch of bare skin, every dip, every curve. He looked almost dazed.

“Guys?” you asked again, voice quieter now. Self-consciousness crept up your spine, curling around your ribs like ice. Your arms crossed instinctively over your chest, trying to shield yourself from their stares,but it was too late. The image of you in that too-small bikini was already burned into their minds.

Soobin finally blinked.

And then swallowed.

Hard.

Yeonjun was the first to snap out of it.

“No—no, it’s not too much,” he blurted, voice pitched higher than usual as he rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes flicked upward, trying to focus on your face and only your face. “You look—uh. It’s a good color on you.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. That wasn’t exactly a denial. Just a very panicked attempt at diplomacy.

Beomgyu, sprawled out on his towel like he owned the sun, let out a low snort. “I’m gonna need to swim immediately before I lose my mind.” he muttered under his breath, dragging the heel of his palm down his face. He didn’t even try to hide the way his eyes lingered on the way your suit cut into the plush curve of your waist.

Kai laughed, but it came out strangled,tight and breathy. “Sun’s really… warm today,” he offered lamely, snatching a towel and tossing it over his lap with a speed that made your eyes narrow. His fingers tugged at the edge like he was afraid it would move, like something under there needed to stay hidden.

You blinked, and frowned.

You didn’t get it at first. You weren’t trying to tease them.

You had just picked the wrong size online. That’s all. The top was snug and the bottoms rode higher than you meant, but it wasn’t like you’d done it on purpose. You didn’t think about what it would look like to them.

So you sat down on your towel,right in the center of their little circle,legs tucked off to the side, thighs soft and glowing under the sun. You stretched your arms up with a sigh, letting the sunlight kiss your skin. Then leaned back on your hands, completely unaware of what you were doing.

But they noticed. Oh, they noticed.

Your chest pushed forward, tits straining against the small triangles of fabric, the tie between them visibly tugging with the pressure. Your stomach curved out just slightly, soft and inviting, the bikini bottoms dipping into the plush dip of your hip bones. A bead of sweat rolled down your collarbone and disappeared between the valley of your breasts.

That’s when you felt it. The stillness. The silence stretching a second too long. The way the boys weren’t talking anymore. Weren’t laughing. Not like before. Not normally. Their breathing was quieter now—heavier.

Measured.

You caught Yeonjun sneaking a glance, then looking away so fast it looked painful. Beomgyu blatantly stared before pretending to sip from an empty bottle. Kai fiddled with the towel in his lap, but his eyes kept flickering back to the tops of your thighs. Taehyun said nothing at all, but you felt his eyes on you, like a touch.

And Soobin…

Soobin hadn’t moved. His gaze lingered for too long on your stomach. Your chest. Then flicked up guiltily to your face. His cheeks were a furious shade of red.

That’s when it hit you. You weren’t just hanging out anymore. You were the problem, or at least, that’s what it felt like. Like your body, soft and bare and squeezed into this little bikini, had completely unbalanced the air. Their composure cracked like glass under your weight, and yet you still didn’t cover up.

Not yet. Not when part of you… liked the way their gazes burned.

Taehyun didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t watching as you bent forward to grab the bottle of sunscreen from your bag. His gaze dragged down the arch of your back, lingering where your bikini top strained against your shoulder blades and the lower strap cut across the curve of your sides.

You were oblivious to the way his jaw flexed, until he spoke.

“Need help with that?”

His voice came out lower than usual. Tighter. Rough around the edges, like it was being held back by sheer force of will.

You blinked at him, then tossed the bottle with a small smirk. “Sure. Back and shoulders?” He caught it with one hand,barely, and swallowed so hard you saw his throat bob.

The cap clicked open with a snap that felt unnecessarily loud in the thick air between you. You pulled your hair to the side, exposing the length of your back, and turned to face forward again. The sun warmed your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat that bloomed the moment Taehyun touched you.

His hands weren’t rushed. They were slow. Intentional. He rubbed the lotion into your skin with firm, even pressure,palms sliding over your shoulders, fingers brushing the straps of your bikini with maddening hesitation. It was like he wanted to stay respectful but couldn’t help himself. Like each pass of his hand was a battle between discipline and desire.

You heard it then. The sharp inhale just to your left. Yeonjun.

You turned your head just slightly and saw his hand twitch against the towel, curled into the fabric like he was anchoring himself. His eyes were fixed on where Taehyun’s hands met your bare skin, his chest rising and falling with shallow, barely contained breaths.

Beomgyu groaned and threw himself onto his back, slapping a wide-brimmed straw hat over his face. “I’m not looking,” he muttered, voice strained. “I’m not looking. I’m not looking.”

No one believed him, though. Not with the way his legs shifted restlessly under his towel.

Kai, on the other hand, definitely was looking.

Elbows on his knees, chin resting in one hand, his gaze traced the shape of your body like he was trying to memorize it. His lip was caught between his teeth, biting down hard. The towel in his lap had shifted slightly,and he didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

Then there was Soobin. Poor, sweet, quiet Soobin.

He hadn’t moved a muscle, but he was absolutely dying. His entire face had turned a soft, lovely shade of red,one that deepened when your thighs shifted and the inside of them caught the light. His eyes darted there once,just once,but that was all it took. He froze, stiff and silent, his water bottle now crushed slightly in his grip.

You glanced over your shoulder at Taehyun. “You okay back there?”

His thumbs brushed the top of your spine, pressing in like he was grounding himself.

“Peachy,” he replied, voice a little hoarse.

———-

It was subtle at first.

The way the atmosphere shifted.

The fidgeting. The glances. The fact that none of them could sit still around you anymore, not comfortably. They adjusted their towels, cleared their throats, scratched at nothing. Their hands wandered aimlessly: to water bottles, sunglasses, already-read pages of books they were no longer focused on.

But the moment you stood? Everything shifted.

You didn’t mean to move like that. Didn’t mean to tease.

You just walked, but your hips swayed with every step, natural, rhythmic, soft flesh shifting beneath the too-small bikini. Your thick thighs brushed with each stride, the hem of the bottoms clinging snug between them, making you tug lightly at the wedgie that refused to stay fixed. The motion only made it worse. Or maybe… better, from their point of view.

Five heads turned at once. Their silence roared louder than the waves.

You stepped into the water, squealing softly as the cold nipped at your ankles and calves, the sudden chill a sharp contrast to the heat baking your skin. You waded deeper, letting the ocean climb up your thighs, then your hips. You laughed, tipping your head back, scooping the water up and splashing it onto your chest, gasping as it hit your skin, nipples visibly hardening through the thin, wet fabric.

On the shore, they didn’t move. They watched you like you were a vision, some kind of fantasy.

Soobin leaned toward Kai, voice hushed like he was scared you might somehow hear from all the way in the water. “Did she always look like that?”

Kai exhaled, eyes glazed over. “No,” he whispered. “She didn’t always wear that.”

Taehyun stayed quiet, fingers dug into the towel beneath him like he was grounding himself, jaw tight as he tracked every glint of sun off your wet skin.

Beomgyu still had the hat over his face, but you could see his chest rising faster now. Could see his leg bouncing. He hadn’t looked away once.

Yeonjun stood up suddenly, pacing in a tight, erratic line. “Okay,” he said, flustered, practically manic. “We can’t all be freaks. Someone. Someone normal go out there and splash her. Just, like, splash her. Like a normal person.”

No one volunteered. No one moved.

Soobin muttered under his breath, “You go splash her.”

“Me?” Yeonjun pointed at himself, scandalized. “I’m the only one not hiding a boner right now.”

Beomgyu wheezed from under his hat. Kai didn’t deny it. Neither did Taehyun.

And Soobin…

Soobin finally looked away from the water, flushed and frowning, like he hated himself for wanting to look again.

Out in the ocean, you floated on your back, blissfully unaware of the fire you’d lit behind you.

———

Beomgyu raised his hand, voice flat. “I will sacrifice myself to flirt publicly.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then…

“No flirting.”

Soobin’s voice cut through the tension, low and unexpectedly firm.

Everyone froze.

“…No flirting?” Beomgyu echoed, arching a brow, as if that was the most outrageous thing said all day.

Soobin cleared his throat, suddenly flustered. “I meant…shut up.” Beomgyu smirked. Taehyun looked away with a tight-lipped smile. Kai bit down on his bottom lip, trying not to laugh, but Soobin didn’t smile back.

Eventually, they all joined you in the water, one by one. Slowly. Trying to play it cool. Trying to act like it was normal. Like they weren’t all hard and suffering.

Yeonjun was first, running in fast and diving under to hide how low his swim trunks had started to sit. Kai followed close behind, laughing too loud, splashing Beomgyu on the way in like it gave him an excuse not to look directly at your chest.

Taehyun waded in carefully, keeping his hands beneath the surface, jaw clenched.

Soobin came last. He walked in stiffly, chest rising with every slow breath, water licking higher and higher up his body like it was trying to cool him down, though it did absolutely nothing.

Once they were close to you? That was a different story. It didn’t get easier for any of them. You couldn’t keep your distance. You leaned into them.

You wrapped your arms loosely around their shoulders as the waves gently lifted your body. Clung to them for balance. Laughed and floated, your weight shifting with the tide, your skin brushing theirs in innocent, unbearable contact.

Your thighs, soft and slick, slid against theirs when you hooked your leg lazily over their hips.

Your chest pressed against their chests, barely covered by wet fabric, nipples clearly visible through the soaked bikini top. The cool water made you shiver, but the warmth of their bodies pulled you closer. And every time a wave nudged you forward, you didn’t stop it.

You let yourself collide. You let them hold you, and each time, you felt the reaction.

Fingers dug into your waist, tight, almost possessive. The kind of grip that lingered even after they let go, like they didn’t realize they were holding you that hard. You could feel the tremble in their hands beneath the surface of the water, their restraint stretched thin.

Warm palms slid down to the backs of your thighs when you drifted too close, subtle at first, until their grip firmed, fingertips pressing into soft skin like they needed to ground themselves or they’d lose control completely.

Every time your skin brushed theirs, muscles flexed beneath your touch. Chest to chest. Hip to hip. That raw tension in their bodies, coiled tight, told you more than words ever could.

Their voices betrayed them more than once.

Yeonjun’s laugh cracked mid-sentence, a little too high. Beomgyu mumbled something that dissolved into a groan. Taehyun kept clearing his throat like he was trying to chase the rasp out of his voice.

Kai’s gaze was the loudest of all.

His eyes kept darting down and away, pretending to admire the water, the sky, literally anything else, but every time he thought you wouldn’t notice, his gaze locked onto you, onto the wet fabric clinging to your chest, the beads of water sliding down your stomach, the plush curve of your thighs beneath the rippling waves.

He stared too long, then looked away too fast and then stared again like he couldn’t help it. None of them could. Your body wasn’t just in their space anymore. It was everywhere.

Wrapped around them, slick with salt and sun and barely covered in wet fabric. Floating between them, brushing against them, igniting every nerve like a live wire.

None of them knew what to do with themselves.

Yeonjun gave up pretending entirely, the pink tip of his tongue wetting his bottom lip as you floated into him, tits pressing into his bare chest. “You’re dangerous,” he muttered under his breath, but he didn’t let go.

Beomgyu lifted you halfway out of the water once—gripping your waist like it was second nature, only to drop you with a sudden splash like it would erase the moment. It didn’t.

Soobin didn’t touch you for the longest time, but then your hand reached out for his shoulder as a wave rocked you, and your body slipped slightly, legs brushing his under the surface, your hand sliding across his chest.

He caught you.

Of course he did.

You slipped, just enough for it to matter, and Soobin’s arms were already there before you even called out. One strong hand clamped around your waist, the other steady at the small of your back, keeping you afloat like your body was made of something precious. Fragile. Dangerous.

His grip wasn’t hesitant. It was firm. Anchoring. His fingers splayed wide across your skin, pressing into the dip of your waist where the curve began, thumb brushing just under the edge of your bikini top, like he didn’t know or didn’t care how high he’d gone.

And then…his eyes met yours.

Chest to chest, water lapping between your bodies, the distance between your mouths was barely a breath.

Your lips parted.

His did too.

The tension between you snapped taut like a bowstring drawn too far. Every cell in your body felt aware, too aware, of his closeness. The heat of his breath mixing with yours. The tremble in his fingertips. The way his pupils were blown wide, drunk on adrenaline or desire or both.

“You okay?” he asked. His voice was rough.

Not because he meant it to be but because he couldn’t help it. You nodded, slowly. “Yeah.” But neither of you moved.

Your lips hovered too close. The kind of closeness that made your heart stutter and your breath catch. The kind that felt like gravity, like inevitability. Like if either of you so much as swayed, you’d kiss.

All of them saw

Yeonjun froze mid-step, jaw clenching as his gaze locked onto the space between your mouths. Beomgyu stopped laughing. His smirk faded into something unreadable, darker. Taehyun stood utterly still, his shoulders tense, chest rising a little too sharply. Kai… Kai’s eyes widened, his expression flickering between fascination and something like jealousy.

The tension wasn’t silent anymore. It wasn’t subtle. It was loud in its stillness. It demanded attention. Thick and oppressive, like the sun had dropped closer to the earth just to watch.

And all you had to do was keep floating. Keep pretending your chest wasn’t pressed to his. That your thighs hadn’t slid over his lap under the water. That you didn’t feel his breath ghost across your cheek like a promise.

———-

Later, after the sun had dipped lower in the sky and your skin was still warm from salt and heat, you stood at the edge of the beach, towel in hand, brushing off the sand that clung to your thighs.

Soobin watched you.

From behind his sunglasses, half-reclined on a chair he hadn’t moved from in nearly thirty minutes, he just… stared. Not distractedly. Not casually. With intent. With weight. Like he was trying to memorize every inch of you now that the water no longer distorted your shape now that the wet fabric clung tighter, outlining everything the waves had once hidden.

He didn’t flinch when you caught him.

You arched an eyebrow, smirking to yourself, and bent to shake out your towel. A playful flick of your wrist, your hips tilting just slightly, ass angled back as you gave the damp cloth a snap in the breeze.

That’s when you heard it..

A sharp, sudden cough.

You straightened and turned. Soobin had definitely choked. His hand hovered in front of his mouth, eyes wide behind dark lenses. His chest rose in a shallow breath, and his jaw tensed hard enough to tick.

“You okay?” you asked, amused, slinging the towel over your shoulder.

He lowered his hand, slowly. Pulled his sunglasses down just enough for you to see his eyes. Dark, glossy, burning with something he hadn’t yet said out loud.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to us, do you?” he rasped. You blinked. Caught off guard. “I… just bought the wrong size.”

Your voice was soft. Honest. Almost shy. Soobin’s smile in response was anything but innocent. It curled up slow, like it knew something.

“That’s the problem,” he murmured.

There it was. The tension you thought had peaked earlier? It surged again, hot and electric, crawling up your spine, settling low in your belly. The way he said it wasn’t teasing, but a confession.

That’s the problem.

That you didn’t know what you were doing. That you didn’t mean to drive them crazy, but you were. That your softness, your skin, your shape, the stretch of that little bikini, they’d been suffering through it all day.

Now? Now it was starting to show.

———-

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, staining the sky in soft oranges and dusky pinks. Shadows stretched long over the sand as the day’s heat clung stubbornly to your skin, sticking grains of salt and sunscreen to your thighs. Everything smelled like summer, warm skin, coconut lotion, and the fading tang of the ocean breeze.

Everyone was sun-dazed and loose-limbed, voices slower, laughter easier.

But the ease didn’t last.

The moment you all reached the van, parked just off the beach path, reality hit like a brick to the face.

The back was stuffed.

Coolers. Inflated floaties. A folding beach umbrella that no one managed to close properly. A stack of towels, bags of snacks, Beomgyu’s inexplicably large duffel bag full of God-knows-what. It looked less like a day trip and more like an emergency evacuation.

“There’s only five seats,” Yeonjun muttered, staring into the packed abyss like it had personally offended him.

Kai ducked his head into the back and grimaced. “Back seat’s stuffed to hell,” he confirmed. “There’s no room unless you wanna sit on the watermelon.”

You blinked. “Wait… so where am I supposed to sit?” Five pairs of eyes turned to you at once.

And something about that look, the shift, the tension that immediately snapped into place, made your stomach dip.

Like they’d all just been waiting for this moment. Then, in rapid succession:

“I’ve got space,” Yeonjun said quickly, patting his lap with exaggerated enthusiasm, eyes already gleaming with challenge.

“She can sit on me,” Beomgyu added, slinging his arm over the door frame with a cocky grin. “I’ve got excellent shock absorption. Certified.”

“No,” Soobin cut in, voice low and even. “She’ll be more comfortable here.” He shifted in his seat, spreading his knees just slightly. Subtle. Possessive. Certain.

Taehyun didn’t say much. Just reached for the seatbelt across his chest and unhooked it, already leaning over like he was expecting you to take the offer. “Come here,” he said simply, without looking at anyone else.

Kai on the other hand, he didn’t say a word. Just opened his arms wide from his spot in the middle row, eyes soft and pleading, like his lap was the most natural option. Like of course you’d sit there. Like he’d been waiting for it all day.

Your gaze flicked between them.

All five.

All watching you.

The air suddenly felt heavier, hotter, thick with something that had been simmering under the surface for hours. Their gazes weren’t innocent anymore. Not after today. Not after the water. Not after the way you’d clung to them, touched them, let yourself float between their hands like you belonged there.

This wasn’t about who had space. This was about who got to touch you. Who got to feel your weight. Your thighs. Your chest pressing against them as the car jostled down the road.

You could see it in their eyes. Feel it in the way their bodies leaned forward, chests rising just a little faster than before.

“Any volunteers to sit in the trunk with Beomgyu’s flamingo float?” you joked weakly, trying to cut the tension.

No one laughed. They were waiting…for you.

You blinked at them all, stunned. “You guys…”

“We’re being practical,” Soobin said quickly, voice an octave too high to be convincing. “Weight distribution.”

You raised a brow, trying to bite back your laugh. “Right. Very scientific.” No one offered a better explanation.

And so, after a beat, after scanning the vehicle and their eager, barely restrained faces, you sighed and slid toward the middle seat. Soobin was already there, long legs spread slightly, seatbelt buckled and posture just stiff enough to suggest he was trying very, very hard to act unbothered.

You chose him because it felt like the safest option.

Or at least… it should have been.

At first.

You turned, easing your back toward him and bracing one hand on the seat for balance. Your bikini bottoms were still damp, clinging to your skin, the fabric snug where it hugged between your thighs. When you lowered yourself onto him, it wasn’t slow enough to avoid contact. It was too slow. Your hips met his with a soft, wet sound, skin meeting skin beneath the thin barrier of nylon.

You shifted. Just a little. Trying to balance. Your thighs spread slightly across his lap for stability, and you felt it instantly.

The hard ridge pressed between you. The tension in his muscles. The way his breath stuttered in his chest.

Soobin hissed through his teeth.

You froze.

“You okay?” you asked, half-turning to look at him over your shoulder.

He was trying. You could tell he was trying to keep it together. His jaw was clenched, shoulders stiff, and his hands, large and warm, hovered awkwardly at your waist. Not touching, not fully resting, just trembling slightly in place like he didn’t trust himself to move.

“Yeah,” he said, a little too fast. His voice was hoarse, cracking around the edges. “Mhm. Totally fine.”

He wasn’t fine. Not when you could feel his thighs tighten beneath you. You could hear the subtle catch in his breath every time you adjusted. You could sense how hard he was trying not to react.

The car door shut behind you, sealing the two of you in. The rest of the guys piled in around you—Kai and Beomgyu in the back, Taehyun sliding into the passenger seat, Yeonjun behind the wheel.

But Soobin didn’t move. Barely even let out a breath.

And when the car hit the first bump in the road, jolting your body down harder onto his lap, you felt it. That deep, involuntary groan in his chest he tried and failed to stifle.

———-

The van bumped along the uneven road, the hum of tires on gravel the only sound as conversation had long since dwindled into charged silence. The sun dipped lower outside the windows, casting the car in warm amber light, soft shadows flickering across your bare thighs as you shifted in Soobin’s lap.

You didn’t realize what had happened.

The thin fabric of your cover-up had ridden up when you climbed in, bunched beneath your ass and exposing more skin than you meant to. And your bikini top, still damp, still clinging, had started to loosen at the left strap. Not enough to notice right away. But just enough that, with each subtle bounce of the vehicle, the fabric tugged. Shifted. Slid.

The left strap slipped further.

And further.

And you didn’t notice.

But Soobin did.

He stiffened beneath you, hands suddenly flying to your waist, fingers gripping with sharp intensity. His breath hitched at your back.

“Wait…don’t move..” he said, low and urgent.

But it was too late.

You reached down toward the door pocket, the curve of your body folding forward, your spine brushing his chest. The motion pulled the front of your top downward, straining the already-too-small triangles of fabric.

Then-

The soft snap of tension giving way.

Air hit your skin.

Your left nipple slipped out. Just enough.

A delicate peek of darkened skin beneath the edge of your bikini top. A soft curve, unmistakable in shape and contrast. Briefly, heartbreakingly visible in the golden light through the windshield.

Yeonjun saw it first. He choked on his own spit.

“Cough—!”

He turned his head so fast you thought he might give himself whiplash, ears instantly flushed red. His hand slammed against the steering wheel like he’d just seen a crime.

Beomgyu… didn’t look away.

His jaw flexed, his fingers tightening into fists on his thighs. His eyes darkened. He adjusted his swim shorts with a jerk of his hand, shifting like he was uncomfortably hard now, and not even trying to hide it.

Kai looked like he was physically holding his breath, lips parted slightly, his entire body frozen mid-turn like he’d been about to speak but forgot how to.

And Taehyun, up in the front passenger seat? Completely still. Stiff shoulders. Straight spine. The only movement was the subtle clench of his hands on his knees.

But underneath you…

Soobin made a sound.

A low, desperate sound that was half groan, half gasp. It came from deep in his chest, raw and barely contained. You felt the vibration of it through your back, your hips, all the way down your thighs.

“What?” you asked, frowning, blinking in confusion as you glanced down-

-and then you saw it.

Your heart stuttered. Your breath left in a sharp rush. “Shit—!”

You scrambled to fix it, one arm flying up to cover your chest, the other tugging your top desperately back into place. But before you could reach-

Soobin’s hand caught your wrist. Big, warm fingers curling around your forearm. Your breath caught. You looked back at him over your shoulder.

His eyes were unreadable behind his sunglasses, but his lips were parted, cheeks flushed, throat working around a thick swallow. His grip didn’t ease, his other hand still trembling on your waist.

“Don’t,” he said, voice barely audible.

“It’s okay,” Soobin murmured, his breath hot against your shoulder. “Just… don’t panic.”

You turned your head slightly, barely able to hear him over the pounding of your own pulse. “Don’t panic?” you whispered, breathless, eyes wide. You were too aware of everything. Your wet skin, the thin bikini clinging to you, the eyes watching you from every angle.

But most of all… you felt him. His thighs shifted subtly beneath you, trying (and failing) to adjust. And that’s when you felt it.

Hard.

Thick.

Pressed right between your legs where your soaked bikini bottoms had molded to your heat like a second skin. There was no space left between you. Every movement, every breath, made it worse.

Or better.

“You’re driving them crazy,” he said, voice hushed and tight. Your head spun. “Not on purpose,” you whispered back.

“I know.”

And the way he said it…

His voice was lower now. Gravelly. Almost broken. Darker. “That’s the worst part.”

Your breath caught.

You looked down, cheeks burning as your shaking hands tugged your top back into place, hiding the slip of skin that had sent a shockwave through the car. But it was too late to take it back. The air had already changed. Thick and heavy, humid with tension. The windows were beginning to fog at the corners, clouding the outside world from view.

Inside the van, it felt like something feral was growing.

Beomgyu shifted in the back seat. His legs were spread wider now, elbows digging into his knees, head bowed low like he needed to concentrate just to breathe. Sweat glistened along his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard with each swallow.

Kai was openly staring at your thighs. His lip was caught between his teeth, bitten so hard it had turned red. His hands clenched into fists on either side of his seat, but his eyes never moved. He looked dazed. Desperate.

Yeonjun let his head fall back against the driver’s seat with a heavy thud and groaned. “We’re gonna need a cold shower after this,” he muttered to no one in particular, one hand adjusting himself beneath the steering wheel like he didn’t care who saw anymore.

Soobin wasn’t hovering anymore. His hands were on you. Firm.

Heavy palms cupping your hips like you were something delicate and breakable and already his. His thumbs brushed over the soft curve of your sides, just beneath the edge of your top, pressing possessively into your skin like he was branding the moment into memory.

He hadn’t let go since the wardrobe mishap.

And now, it was clear he didn’t intend to.

You sat perfectly still, your back pressed to his chest, your breathing shallow. You didn’t dare move again. Not with the way his fingers flexed just slightly every time your thighs shifted.

————-

The beach house was dimly lit, golden shadows stretching along the walls as the last of the sun sank behind the horizon. The air inside clung to your skin, thick with ocean humidity and heat still radiating from your post-shower body.

You towel-dried your hair slowly, warm droplets sliding down your bare shoulders. Everything felt soft and quiet. The kind of stillness that happens before something breaks.

You’d thrown on the only sleep set you’d packed, not realizing how bad how good the fit had become.

The tank top was cropped. Really cropped. The fabric was soft and thin, worn from washing, now hugging every curve of your chest. It clung to the swell of your breasts, dipping dangerously low and riding high, just brushing the lower edge of your underboob. You hadn’t packed a bra. The air in the house was cool enough for that to be obvious.

The shorts?

Even worse.

Stretchy. Breathable. Meant for lounging. But now they fit like a second skin, rising high on your waist and gripping your hips so tight the seam strained. The soft material framed the curve of your ass, the bottom hem barely visible under the fullness of your thighs. Every step made the fabric shift higher, and you kept tugging it down without realizing just how much attention that alone would draw.

You didn’t even hesitate when you padded barefoot down the hallway, still warm and clean and relaxed. You weren’t thinking about how you looked.

You didn’t know yet.

Until you walked into the living room. Everything stopped. The soft hum of a fan. The low buzz of someone’s phone. The murmur of whatever background show Beomgyu had turned on…

All of it cut out. Not because the sound stopped.

But because they did.

Yeonjun was on the arm of the couch, drink halfway to his mouth. It never made it. He froze completely, eyes dragging over your body. Slow, stunned, unreadable.

Beomgyu had been mid-laugh, something clever on his tongue, until he caught a glimpse of your bare stomach and how your shorts shifted with your step. His mouth stayed open, but no sound came out.

Kai looked up from his phone. Blinked once. Twice. Then again like he was short-circuiting, face flushed as his gaze zeroed in on your thighs and didn’t move.

Taehyun stiffened where he sat on the floor, remote in hand. His fingers twitched like he forgot what he was doing. His eyes locked on the outline of your nipples against the thin tank top, visible even in the soft lamplight.

Soobin had been standing in the kitchen doorway, sipping from a glass of water. The glass tilted, ice clinking. But his eyes never left you. His gaze dropped down the full length of your body and dragged back up with unforgiving slowness.

His grip on the glass tightened. Water dripped from the edge. He didn’t blink.

You stopped halfway into the room, towel still slung over your shoulder.

“…What?” you asked.

The word barely made it out of your mouth. The room was silent. Thick, hot, achingly still.

Yeonjun cleared his throat, but it didn’t help much. His voice came out low and rough, like it scraped the edge of his throat. “What’re you wearing?”

You blinked. “Pajamas.”

But when you glanced down at the soft stretch of your tank top clinging tight to your breasts, at the way your shorts hugged your hips and disappeared beneath the curve of your thighs, you suddenly understood.

Soobin’s jaw tensed visibly. “That’s not pajamas,” he said, voice quiet but razor sharp. “That’s… that’s barely anything.”

“I-it’s hot,” you said, crossing your arms instinctively over your chest, but it only pressed your tits up higher. The thin fabric clung to your damp skin, and you were sure he could see the outline of your nipples through it.

“You’re not making it better,” Beomgyu muttered, dragging his hand down his face like it physically hurt to look at you. His eyes dipped low again anyway. He looked wrecked. Hair messy, lips parted, expression tight like he was holding something back and barely succeeding.

Kai shifted again on the couch and picked up a pillow—not for comfort, not really. He set it in his lap, then dropped his head back against the cushions with a quiet, frustrated groan.

Taehyun still hadn’t moved. He hadn’t blinked. He was staring at the spot where your shirt had ridden up just above your belly button, lips parted slightly like he couldn’t stop tracing your skin with his eyes.

You took a half step backward. “Are you seriously-? Guys. I just took a shower.”

“Yeah,” Yeonjun said slowly, eyes flicking up and down your body with a look that made your knees weak. “And now you’ve walked in here like that, and what- expected us to act normal?”

“I didn’t mean-”

Soobin stepped forward. Everything in you stilled. His body was close. Warm. Tall and quiet and buzzing with something heavy beneath the surface.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to us, do you?” he said. His voice wasn’t loud. It was low, almost gentle. But it sent a chill straight down your spine. You swallowed. Your chest rose with a shaky breath. “No. I really don’t.”

Soobin’s gaze dropped. Traced your curves, slowly. He looked at the way your top pressed into your chest, at the damp hair curling around your collarbone, at the bare skin between your thighs where your shorts had ridden up.

“Then I’ll tell you,” he murmured. You didn’t stop him.

“You walk in here like that,” he continued, voice like velvet soaked in heat, “wearing next to nothing, smelling like soap and salt and whatever lotion you just used, and you expect us to pretend we haven’t been dying to touch you all day?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

He reached out, hesitated, then rested one hand lightly on your hip. His fingers barely curled around the softness there.

“You’re making us crazy.”

Behind you, Beomgyu shifted, leaning forward. Kai’s voice was quiet. “Every time you moved, I could see the shape of your ass under those shorts. I had to sit with a pillow on my dick the entire ride home.”

Taehyun finally spoke. Voice low. Even. “You didn’t know what you were doing. But we did. We knew what this was.” You blinked at them, heart pounding in your chest.

Yeonjun stood, walking toward you with slow, careful steps, his gaze sharp and unreadable.

“But the question is,” he said softly, “what do you want to happen now?” You opened your mouth. No words came. Soobin’s hand tightened slightly on your hip.

Yeonjun stepped closer. Beomgyu’s knee brushed the back of your thigh as he leaned in, voice a whisper behind you.

“Because if you don’t want us to touch you…” His breath hit your ear.

“Say so now.”

Then Soobin moved behind you. Pressed his chest to your back. His lips brushed your ear.

“Let us touch you,” he murmured. “Please.”

And you… nodded.

———-

You didn’t say no. You didn’t say anything at all. That silence was everything they needed.

Soobin was the first to move.

His hand, already resting gently on your hip, thumb brushing the hem of your too-tight sleep shorts, began to slide lower. Slow. Careful. Like he didn’t want to startle you. Like you were something delicate and sacred.

He cupped the plush curve of your thigh, fingers spreading to feel just how thick and warm your skin was beneath his palm. His grip tightened, not rough, but firm, as if he needed to anchor himself there. Like letting go wasn’t an option.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, voice so low it nearly disappeared into the heat between you.

“I’m nervous,” you breathed.

He smiled against your shoulder. You didn’t see it, but you felt it. A quiet tug of his lips brushing your skin. His breath was warm, steady, grounding.

“We’ll take care of you,” he whispered. “Every inch.”

Behind you, the air shifted.

Beomgyu leaned in so close that his chest barely ghosted your back, and the heat of his breath fanned across the side of your neck. It made you shiver again, despite the warmth of the room.

Then his hands.

One slid around your waist, large and warm, settling on the soft swell of your belly, his thumb rubbing small, slow circles against your skin as if memorizing how you felt.

The other?

It moved higher. Up, up, lightly grazing over your ribs until his fingertips brushed the underside of your breast through the paper-thin tank top. You weren’t wearing a bra. He knew that. He’d known the moment you walked into the room. But now he could feel it.

His fingers traced the edge of your softness, reverent. Tempted. Barely touching, but worshiping with every inch of skin he could reach.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered, voice almost dazed. “So fucking soft.”

His hand splayed fully now, fingertips skimming the side of your breast, pressing just enough to feel the weight of it in his palm.

He wasn’t teasing. He sounded… awestruck.

Like he couldn’t believe he was finally touching you like this. Like you were real, and warm, and his fingers were allowed to explore everything he’d only ever imagined.

Soobin’s hand moved again, dragging upward from your thigh to your waist, where he met Beomgyu’s grip. His palm pressed flat against your belly, fingertips dipping beneath the hem of your tank top to stroke the skin there. His other hand traced the outside of your thigh, then slid back and cupped the underside of your ass, fingers digging in a little harder now.

“You’re trembling,” Soobin said again, voice deeper now. Beomgyu let out a breathy laugh against your ear.

“She likes it,” he said. “You like being touched like this, don’t you?” You nodded this time.

“Say it,” Yeonjun’s voice came from in front of you—lower, rougher, his eyes dark and fixed on where their hands touched your body. “We want to hear it.”

“I like it,” you whispered. “I—I like it.”

Taehyun stepped closer now. He’d been watching in silence, unmoving, unreadable, but now his eyes were hot, his lips parted. He ran two fingers along your arm, then up to your jaw, tilting your head so he could look into your eyes.

“Tell us if it’s too much,” he said quietly.

Your breath caught. “It’s not,” you said.

Kai’s hand joined the others next, brushing lightly over your hip, his touch feather-light but hungry, sliding around the dip of your waist as he bent low to press a kiss to the center of your back.

“We’ve wanted this,” he said. “We’ve wanted you.” Yeonjun stepped in next, cupping your jaw and tilting your face up toward his. “If you want to stop, say it now.”

You didn’t. You couldn’t. You just nodded, lips parted, body buzzing.

That was all it took.

Yeonjun’s mouth was on yours. Hot, slow, possessive. He kissed you like he owned the moment, like he’d been imagining this for years. And as soon as he pulled back, Kai’s lips were replacing his, gentler but no less desperate.

Their hands moved slowly at first.

Kai knelt in front of you, hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the hem of your sleep shorts higher and higher until his thumbs grazed your inner thighs.

Soobin slipped behind you, fingers teasing under the hem of your tank, skimming the base of your spine.

“Can I take this off?” he murmured against your shoulder.

You nodded.

He lifted the tank over your head, and the room went silent. Then Taehyun, still quiet, still intense, reached forward and ran his hand along the side of your bare breast.

“Perfect,” he whispered.

Beomgyu let out a breath like he’d been punched.

“You’ve been hiding this from us all day,” he muttered. “This fucking body.”

“Didn’t mean to,” you mumbled, cheeks hot.

“Doesn’t matter now,” Yeonjun said, leaning down to kiss along the curve of your neck. “You’re ours.”

Soobin’s hands moved to your chest, cupping your tits from behind, fingers rolling your nipples while Kai kissed lower down your belly, worshipping the softness, the way you curved under his hands.

Then his tongue met the waistband of your shorts.

“Please,” you breathed, voice already breaking. “Touch me.” Kai smiled up at you from between your legs, eyes half-lidded with hunger, his breath hot against your thighs.

“I was waiting for you to ask.”

His fingers curled into the waistband of your shorts, dragging them down slowly. Inch by inch. So slow it made you tremble. The elastic caught on the curve of your ass, then slipped down, exposing more of your soft, wet heat until you were completely bare in front of them.

“Holy shit,” Kai whispered, voice caught somewhere between awe and arousal. His eyes locked on your soaked cunt. Your folds glistening, twitching with need, already messy without a single touch.

“She’s soaked,” he murmured again, almost like he didn’t believe it. “Dripping down her fucking thighs.”

Beomgyu was already on his knees beside him, mouth parted, pupils blown wide. “Can I taste?” he asked, voice rasping, fingers twitching at his sides like he was holding himself back by sheer force.

Kai looked up at you. “You okay with that?”

“Please,” you begged, your voice wrecked. “I want all of you. I want-fuck, please.”

You felt Soobin’s hands slide under your thighs, lifting you slightly, turning you in his lap so your legs fell open over his. He held you there. Open, exposed, vulnerable and throbbing, your cunt bare and twitching just inches from Kai’s face.

“You’re gonna let us ruin you tonight,” Soobin whispered against your ear, voice trembling with restraint. “You understand that?”

You nodded, helpless and breathless. “Yes.” Then Kai’s mouth was on you. His tongue dragged up your slit, slow, flat, starving, and you cried out, back arching, hands flying to his hair.

He groaned into your cunt like he was dying, sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue fast—wet, messy, relentless. The sound of it was obscene, every slurp echoing through the living room, filling your ears, making your toes curl.

And then Beomgyu joined him. Two mouths. Two tongues. One sliding lower. Fucking you open with deep, slow thrusts of his tongue, pressing into your hole like he couldn’t get deep enough. The other sucking your clit, lips swollen, nose buried in the wet between your thighs.

“Oh my fucking god—” you moaned, loud, raw, completely unraveling. Your knees jerked, thighs trembling, but Soobin’s hands kept you spread wide.

“Let them taste you,” he murmured, biting gently at your shoulder. “Be good and take it.”

You were good. You were falling apart.

Yeonjun stepped in front of you, cupping your cheeks, tilting your head up so your eyes met his. He kissed you hard. Tongue deep, fast, hungry, swallowing your moans as they ripped from your throat.

Taehyun stood behind Soobin, stroking himself slow, watching your body twitch and tremble in his hyung’s lap. “She looks so fucking pretty like this,” he said, voice low. “Look at her. She’s shaking.”

Kai moaned into you, tongue flicking over your clit fast and brutal while Beomgyu’s fingers replaced his tongue curling inside you, thick, relentless, pressing just right.

“Gyu—Kai—I’m gonna—” you choked out. Soobin kissed your temple. “Give it to them.”

You came with a scream, legs snapping around their heads, cunt clenching around Beomgyu’s fingers as Kai sucked your orgasm out of you like he’d been starving for it. You felt the drip of your release spill down between your thighs. You felt them lap it up.

And when you started to squirm, overstimulated, Kai just held your hips down and muttered against your pussy, “Not done yet.”

Beomgyu looked up, lips and chin soaked, eyes wild. “We haven’t even started.”

————

Moving into one of the bedrooms, they laid you down like you were something to be unwrapped. Treasured and ruined all at once. Your back hit the mattress, the sheets cool beneath your heated skin, and you barely had a chance to breathe before they were on you.

All of them hard, heavy with lust, eyes dark with the same hunger.

Soobin was already between your thighs, running the thick length of his cock along your folds slow and teasing, dragging through the slickness there like he owned you. “She’s so wet,” he growled, more to the others than to you. “She’s ready for it.”

Kai’s mouth was soft on your stomach, lips dragging up the line of your navel, his hands gripping your hips like he wanted to hold you still like he was already struggling to behave. “Please,” he whispered, his breath ghosting across your skin, “I want to be inside her so bad.”

Taehyun leaned in beside your ear, voice low and breath hot. “Let me go first. Just a taste.” His cock pressed against your thigh, twitching, leaking against your skin.

“No,” Soobin snapped. “She’s mine right now.”

He pushed in. Slow. Stretching you open around his thick cock until your back arched off the bed and your fingers scrambled at the sheets. The others watched, mesmerized, panting, jerking themselves slowly as they waited their turn. You swore you could hear Kai whimper. Taehyun bit his lip hard enough to bleed.

Soobin fucked you deep. So deep it felt like he was in your stomach, every inch of him thick and pulsing inside your soaked cunt. He wasn’t gentle. He didn’t ease you in or give you time to adjust. He wanted to feel you break around him. Wanted to feel your body give out from how hard he was using it.

His hips dragged back slowly, teasing your walls as his cock slid out with a slick, wet sound, then he slammed forward, the force of it jolting your entire body up the bed. You cried out, but he didn’t slow down. He just grunted, rough and low, holding your thighs wide apart, watching the way your pussy swallowed him whole over and over again.

“Fuck, look at that,” he growled, voice wrecked, sweat dripping from his jaw. “You’re soaked. You hear that?”

And you could. Every thrust filled the room with the obscene, squelching sound of your cunt clinging desperately to his cock. Wet and needy and messy.

The bedframe slammed against the wall with every brutal stroke. You felt the wood creak beneath you, the sheets already damp with sweat and slick and drool. Soobin’s hands kept you pinned down, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise because you were squirming, legs shaking, body trembling, and he didn’t want you to move an inch.

“You gonna cum already?” he sneered, bending over you, chest pressing to yours. “We just started, baby. You better hold it.”

But your body betrayed you. Your back arched off the bed. Your nails raked down his back. And when he shifted his angle, grinding the head of his cock against your sweet spot over and over, punishingly precise. You shattered.

Your orgasm ripped through you like lightning. Your vision went white. Your pussy clenched down so hard on him he snarled against your neck, biting down to muffle the sound. You felt yourself gush around him, slick pouring down your thighs.

But Soobin didn’t stop. He fucked you through it, kept pounding into your overstimulated cunt like he wanted to make you cry. And you did. Tears slipping down your cheeks as your body thrashed beneath him.

“So tight when you cum,” he breathed, watching your face twist in pleasure and pain. “Fuck-you were made for this.”

And then he pulled out slow, dragging every inch of himself from your dripping hole, and you barely had time to catch your breath before the next cock replaced his.

Taehyun was already in position. Cock thick, flushed, slick with precum. His chest heaved as he stared down at you, pupils blown wide with lust. He didn’t wait. Didn’t even pretend to give you time. He just shoved in hard, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust that knocked the breath out of your lungs.

Your scream tore through the room, but it melted into a whimper as his cock stretched your already-fucked pussy even more, pushing against the swollen, sensitive walls Soobin had just wrecked. He groaned, the sound raw and desperate, his hands gripping your thighs and pulling them over his shoulders so he could drive even deeper.

“F-fuck,” Taehyun gasped, snapping his hips into you without mercy. “She’s still tight-how the fuck—?”

He sounded delirious. Ferocious. You felt his abs flex with every thrust as he bent over you, chest shining with sweat, the muscles in his arms trembling from how hard he was gripping you.

He didn’t ease up.

His cock slammed into you again and again, the head hitting your sweet spot like he knew exactly where it was. The way he moved was animalistic. Deep and punishing, his balls slapping against your ass wetly with each thrust. Your cunt squelched around him, loud, messy, soaking both of you, and he growled from the sensation, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck.

“Fuck—so warm—so fucking good—”

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t think. Your eyes rolled back, drool slipping down your cheek as Taehyun rutted into you like he was trying to fuck your soul out of your body.

Then you felt fingers in your hair.

Yeonjun.

He crouched behind you, fist pumping slowly along his shaft as his other hand curled into your scalp, lifting your head. Your mouth parted on instinct, lips wet and swollen, and he pressed the tip of his cock to your tongue.

“Open that pretty mouth,” he said, voice like silk over fire. “Let me in.”

You obeyed. Lips stretching, tongue out, welcoming him in as Taehyun fucked you from below.

Yeonjun slid into your mouth. Slow and teasing, until his cock pressed against the back of your throat. You gagged slightly, eyes watering, and he groaned deep in his chest, thumb brushing the corner of your lips as your mouth stretched wide around him.

“That’s it. Just like that,” he murmured, hips starting to roll as he face-fucked you in time with Taehyun’s brutal thrusts. “Use that throat, baby. Show me how much you want it.”

Your body was sandwiched. Taehyun’s cock slamming into your dripping pussy, Yeonjun’s sliding deep into your throat. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t moan. Your only sounds were muffled gags and the wet, obscene music of skin on skin, slick on slick.

Your arms flailed weakly, fingers clawing at the sheets, legs twitching around Taehyun’s shoulders. You were dizzy. Fucked out. Ruined.

But they weren’t done with you. Not even close.

Kai slipped between your legs while Taehyun pulled out, your pussy raw, gaping, still fluttering from the relentless pounding. Slick coated your thighs, shining on your skin, dripping into the ruined sheets below. You were barely coherent. Panting, shaking, tears streaked down your face, but Kai looked at you like you were the most fragile, beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He was the only one who hesitated.

He knelt there, cock hard and leaking against his stomach, fingers stroking your inner thighs with reverence. His voice trembled when he leaned in, mouth brushing your cheek, your jaw, your collarbone. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, breath hot against your skin. “I’ll be gentle, I promise…”

But your body was soaked, stretched, begging, and when he finally pressed in, his entire body shuddered.

“Fuck,” Kai gasped, burying himself inside you inch by inch. “You’re so warm. So fucking wet—shit—”

He paused once he was fully in, letting your walls squeeze around him, his forehead resting against yours. For a moment, you thought he might actually stay soft, sweet. But then your pussy clenched, instinctive and greedy, pulsing around his cock—and that fragile control snapped.

His hands suddenly gripped your hips tight, hard enough to bruise and he slammed into you. The sudden force knocked your breath out. Kai cursed again, louder this time, his voice breaking.

“I-I’m sorry,” he gasped, even as his hips snapped forward again and again. “I—fuck—I can’t stop—I need you—I need you so bad—”

The rhythm turned feral. No more gentle apologies. Just frantic, desperate thrusts. His cock drilling into your soaked, overstimulated cunt like he was trying to melt into you. The boy who always smiled, who always giggled shyly behind his hands, was gone.

This Kai was trembling. Sweating. Obsessed.

“Been dreaming of this,” he choked out, mouth dragging along your throat, your jaw, your lips. “Every fucking night—touching myself—thinking about how you’d sound, how you’d feel, how you’d taste—”

One hand slid under your thigh, hooking it up around his waist so he could thrust even deeper, angling perfectly to grind against your swollen, sensitive spot. You cried out, legs kicking, body jolting beneath him.

Your pussy clenched again. Tight, needy, and he snapped, fucking into you like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“You’re mine now,” he hissed, voice shaking. “Mine. I don’t care who had you first—I’m gonna fuck you so full of me you’ll forget every other name.”

And you did.

Because all you could feel was Kai—his cock stretching you open, his body flush to yours, his hands everywhere, his voice breaking as he moaned and babbled into your skin.

His thrusts grew erratic, wild. Hips stuttering against you as he buried himself to the hilt, cock twitching deep inside your soaked cunt. His nails dug into your waist as his moans turned desperate, raw, needy.

“Fuck—fuck—I’m gonna—” he gasped, voice cracking, forehead pressed against yours, sweat dripping onto your cheeks. “I’m gonna cum—inside—inside you—can I? Please—please let me—”

But he didn’t wait for an answer.

Your pussy clenched around him again, and that was it.

Kai let out a strangled cry somewhere between a whimper and a broken sob as his cock throbbed violently, and then he came. Hard.

You felt it.

Hot, thick spurts of cum flooded your already ruined pussy, shooting deep inside you with every twitch of his cock. He didn’t pull out. He pushed deeper, grinding into you, gasping as his seed spilled into your swollen walls.

“Shit—fuck—you’re taking all of it—fuck—” he babbled, watching your belly as if he could see himself filling you up.

You moaned beneath him, body shaking from the heat spreading through your core. His cum leaking out around his still-throbbing cock, dripping down your ass onto the sheets. But Kai didn’t stop moving. Even as he softened, he rocked his hips slowly, lazily fucking it deeper, making sure you didn’t waste a drop.

His hand slid down to your lower belly, pressing just slightly, watching your face twist in overstimulated bliss. “So full,” he whispered, eyes wide and dazed. “You’re so full of me, baby.”

Beomgyu was the last, but he didn’t rush.

He watched the whole time. Watched you get ruined. Watched your body go limp from overstimulation. Watched cum drip from your pussy in thick, creamy ropes (Kai’s, Taehyun’s, Soobin’s) all still inside you. Watched your lips swollen and glistening from Yeonjun fucking your throat raw. And the look on his face?

It wasn’t mercy. It was hunger.

He crawled up your body like a predator, one knee between your legs, one hand curling slowly around your throat. Not tight, not yet. Just enough to make you feel it. To remind you who was in control now.

“So used up,” Beomgyu murmured, eyes locked onto yours. “And you still want more.”

His cock was heavy and dripping, already slick from watching everything that came before. He didn’t line up right away. He just slapped it against your ruined, soaked cunt, watching your whole body jolt, watching more cum spill out of you from the impact. He rubbed the head through your folds slow and nasty, smearing the mess of the others across his shaft like it turned him on even more.

“Fuck, look at you,” he muttered, tightening his grip on your throat just slightly. “Stretched. Gaping. Perfect.”

And then he pushed in deliberate, every inch dragged through the slick mess until his cock was buried inside you, thick and pulsing. Your body spasmed beneath him. Sensitive, broken, but still greedy.

You moaned. A cracked, breathless sound, and Beomgyu grinned. That cocky, dangerous grin.

“There it is,” he said, leaning closer, lips brushing yours but not kissing. “Still got noise left in you.” Then he snapped his hips forward hard and you screamed.

His cock drove into you deep and fast, merciless from the first thrust. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t slow. He fucked you like he had a point to prove. Like he wanted to brand himself into your body and erase every other touch before him.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

His hips pounded into yours, balls hitting your ass with filthy, wet sounds. His hand around your throat squeezed tighter, just enough to make your breath hitch, to make your eyes widen.

“You like this, don’t you?” he growled. “Being our fucktoy. Getting filled over and over again until you can’t even think.”

Your cunt pulsed around him violently, and Beomgyu groaned.

“You do. Fuck—you’re clenching around me like you’re about to cum already.” His other hand dropped to your thigh, pushing your legs open wider. “I want you to milk my cock, baby. I want you to squeeze every last drop out of me. You want that too, don’t you?”

You nodded, barely able to speak.

And he rewarded you by fucking harder, hips slamming into you with vicious speed, the bed shaking, headboard banging against the wall.

The overstimulation was unbearable. His cock dragging against every hypersensitive inch of your soaked, cum-filled cunt, thick veins catching on your walls as he drove in again and again. You cried out, a choked wail, tears spilling, legs trembling, body locking up.

But he didn’t stop.

“Take it,” Beomgyu hissed, panting against your neck. “Fucking take it.”

And you did.

Because your body had no choice.

————-

They took you again and again. Positions changed. Hands were everywhere. On your tits, your throat, gripping your thighs open. Tongues traced every inch of your skin. Someone had a hand on your clit the entire time, rubbing, teasing, punishing. They didn’t stop. They didn’t let you stop.

You were soaked, dripping onto the sheets, onto their cocks. Leaking every time one of them pulled out. Your voice broke. Your body trembled. Your orgasm hit so hard you blacked out for a second, but they kept going.

You didn’t know who was inside you anymore. Whose cock was fucking your throat. Whose fingers were bruising your hips.

But you knew one thing:

You loved every filthy second of it.

[reasonsforhope]

"Measles used to be an extremely common disease. Just sixty years ago, over 90% of children would have been infected by it, and of those who developed symptoms, around a quarter would be hospitalized.1

The United States alone had around three to four million cases annually, leading to tens of thousands of hospitalizations and hundreds of deaths each year.2

However, in 1963, John Enders developed the first effective measles vaccine. Vaccination efforts ramped up rapidly in richer countries, and in the 1970s and 1980s, they were scaled up worldwide.

In just the last fifty years, it’s estimated that measles vaccinations have prevented over ninety million deaths worldwide. Two to three million people would die from measles every year without them.3 This means these vaccines are likely the most life-saving ones currently in use, as you can see in the chart.4 ...

...Measles deaths continued to be common in poorer countries until vaccines became widely available. In the chart below, you can see that hundreds of thousands of people died from measles annually in Africa and South-East Asia between the 1980s and 2000s.

Measles vaccination saves millions of lives each year

The global rollout of measles vaccines has been one of history’s most successful public health efforts. Each year, they save millions of lives.

This is especially true in low-income countries where children face the highest risk of dying from measles because of poorer overall health, nutrition, and living standards.10 ...

In the 1980s, coverage was very low in many parts of the world, especially in Africa, Southeast Asia, and the Eastern Mediterranean. In some countries, like Yemen, only 2% of children received vaccines; in Spain, only 8%.

But since then, vaccination rates have increased rapidly.

One reason is the scale-up of the Expanded Programme on Immunization by the World Health Assembly from the 1970s, which aimed to vaccinate children against the deadliest infectious diseases, including measles. Vaccination efforts reached more than 90 million children — or 60% of all infants — by the early 2000s.

But millions of children were still left behind, particularly in poorer countries. In response, the Gavi Vaccine Alliance was established in 2000 to close these gaps and ensure that life-saving vaccines reached the most vulnerable children.

Now, over a hundred million infants receive vaccinations for measles, which is over 80% of them.

These efforts have transformed global health, dramatically reducing child mortality.

This next chart shows estimates of the cumulative number of lives saved by measles vaccinations over time.13

Fifty years since the start of measles vaccination programs, we can see that their impact has been substantial: researchers estimate that 94 million lives have been saved from measles vaccines. That means, on average, nearly two million measles deaths prevented every year.13

The impact has been greatest in Africa, with 29 million lives saved, and Southeast Asia, with 20 million lives saved. These are regions where measles was a leading cause of death in children until recently.

This means measles vaccines rank as the most life-saving childhood vaccines currently in use.4"

-via Out World In Data, May 18, 2025

[fatliberation]

hi, i'm a fat person who is just starting to learn to love and appreciate my body and i'm very new to the fat community and all that.

i was wondering if you could maybe explain the term ob*se and how it is a slur. i've never heard anything about it being a slur before(like i said, i'm very new here) and was wondering if you could tell me the origin and history of the word or mayy provide links to resources about it? i want to know more about fat history and how to support my community but i'm unsure of how to start

Welcome!

Obesity is recognized as a slur by fat communities because it's a stigmatizing term that medicalizes fat bodies, typically in the absence of disease. Aside from the word literally translating to "having eaten oneself fat" in latin, obesity (as a medical diagnosis) straight up doesn't actually exist. The only measure that we have to diagnose people with obesity is the BMI, which has been widely proven to be an ineffective measure of health.

The BMI was created in the 1800s by a statistician named Adolphe Quetelet, who did NOT sudy medicine, to gather statistics of the average height and weight of ONLY white, european, upper-middle class men to assist the government in allocating resources. It was never intended as a measure of individual body fat, build, or health. 

Quetelet is also credited with founding the field of anthropometry, including the racist pseudoscience of phrenology. Quetelet’s l’homme moyen would be used as a measurement of fitness to parent, and as a scientific justification for eugenics.

Studies have observed that about 30% of so-called "normal weight" people are "unhealthy" whereas about 50% of so-called "overweight" people are “healthy”. Thus, using the BMI as an indicator of health results in the misclassification of some 75 million people in the United States alone. "Healthy" lifestyle habits are associated with a significant decrease in mortality regardless of baseline body mass index.  

While epidemiologists use BMI to calculate national "obesity" rates, the distinctions can be arbitrary. In 1998, the National Institutes of Health lowered the overweight threshold from 27.8 to 25—branding roughly 29 million Americans as "overweight" overnight—to match international guidelines. Articles about the "obesity epidemic" often use this pseudo-statistic to create a false fear mongering rate at which the United States is becoming fatter. Critics have also noted that those guidelines were drafted in part by the International Obesity Task Force, whose two principal funders were companies making weight loss drugs. Interesting!!!

So... how can you diagnose a person with a disease (and sell them medications) solely based upon an outdated measure that was never meant to indicate health in the first place? Especially when "obesity” has no proven causative role in the onset of any chronic condition?

There is a reason as to why fatness was declared a disease by the NIH in 1998, and some of it had to do with acknowledging fatness as something that is NOT just about a lack of willpower - but that's a very complicated post for another time. You can learn more about it in the two part series of Maintenance Phase titled The Body Mass Index and The Obesity Epidemic.

Aside from being overtly incorrect as a medical tool, the BMI is used to deny certain medical treatments and gender-affirming care, as well insurance coverage. Employers still often offer bonuses to workers who lower their BMI. Although science recognizes the BMI as deeply flawed, it's going to be tough to get rid of. It has been a long standing and effective tool for the oppression of fat people and the profit of the weight loss industry.

More sources and extra reading material:

How the Use of BMI Fetishizes White Embodiment and Racializes Fat Phobia by Sabrina Strings

The Bizarre and Racist History of the BMI by Aubrey Gordon

The Racist and Problematic History of the Body Mass Index by Adele Jackson-Gibson

What's Wrong With The War on Obesity? by Lily O'Hara, et al.

Fearing The Black Body: The Racial Origins of Fat Phobia by Sabrina Strings

[hemmingsleclerc]

Interview┃Charles Leclerc

summary: Where Charles doesn't realize his little daughter is being interviewed

Reaction pt2

It was a hot weekend at the iconic Monaco Grand Prix and Charles had a special companion this time: his adorable daughter, Emma Jules, and the rest of his family.

Charles, focused on his pre-race routine, was preparing in the Ferrari garage. Emma, a cheerful six-year-old with an infectious smile, was exploring the garage with wide eyes. As her father put on his racing suit and helmet, she walked over and reached out with her little hand to touch the sleek red car.

Unbeknownst to Charles, an inconspicuous figure with camera equipment was making his way through the paddock. He was none other than the cameraman for Netflix's "Drive to Survive", capturing behind-the-scenes moments from the world of F1 for the iconic series. Emma, with her innocent curiosity, caught the cameraman's attention.

"Hey there, little leclerc! Are you excited for the race?" the cameraman asked with a friendly smile.

Emma's eyes lit up, and she nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Daddy is going to win because he's the best."

The cameraman, taking the opportunity for an adorable interview, handed Emma a small microphone and turned on the camera. "Tell us more about your dad. What is he like off the track?"

With the innocence of a child, Emma began to spill the beans. "My daddy is the best here. Sometimes he sings very loud in the car or in the shower. But you know what? He's not very good at it!" She giggled, her laughter echoing through the paddock.

"He likes to dance while he's cooking with mommy," Emma continued, twirling around to demonstrate. "And he snores really loud when he's asleep. It's funny!"

''He also cries a lot at Disney or animal movies, or is more interested in playing with my toys than I am. Sometimes we tell mommy that we are going to grand-mére's house but in reality he takes me to buy new dolls or ice cream. He also likes to help me make friendship bracelets for my friend and also lets me do his hair and makeup with my princess makeup set that santa gave me for Christmas, he always says that he looks very cute.''

As Emma shared these lovely details, the camaraman captured every moment while letting out a few laughs at the things the little girl was saying. Charles, completely absorbed in his pre-race preparations, was unaware of the impromptu interview taking place just a few feet away.

Emma's charming revelations about her father's quirks added a charming touch to his coverage.

Charles may not have known it that day, but he was sure that when the new season of the series came out, that moment would be the most popular.

[cherrybr4t]

coups and panty stuffing?

A/N: a continuation from cheol + panty sniffing! 😆 THANK YOUU ANON for requesting <3 let’s dive into hard hours. 🍒💋 (WC: 1.9k)

+18, MDNI!!

WARNINGS: smut, unprotected sex, f reader, fingering, panty stuffing (mouth n c*nt), spanking, lots of the nickname baby (from cheol), praising + degradation combi, filth. yep.

roommate!cheol who continues to sneak into your room to steal your pretty panties even after getting caught getting off to it once

roommate!cheol who is now your boyfriend — one thing led to another, confessions were in place and he is still as obsessed with you months after dating

roommate!cheol knows that you’ve been purchasing more panties — raunchy, with little to no coverage, decorative laces ranging from bright red to black, just because you know how much he loves to steal them (or collect them)

roommate/boyfriend!cheol mentions to you how he wants to try panty stuffing, and you agreed—rather excitingly. you trust him, and trust that he’s always able to bring you to new heights of pleasure every time.

“fuck baby, look at you, showing off your pretty collection of panties every night just for me,” he runs his finger along the edges of your new black satin string panty, with decorative lace at the sides. he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on, and you feel it.

“so fucking sexy laid out for me, spoiling me with new pretty panties on your perfect cunt — it’s like opening a present every damn time,” he groans, gripping onto your hips tightly as he lowers himself, face to face with your dripping cunt.

the smell of your arousal makes him so dizzy, nothing could ever beat coming home to you, all wet and ready for him.

“it’s like you want me obsessed with you,” he licks and sucks around your inner thighs as you whine, anticipation causing you to writhe in his grasp.

he holds your hips tighter, not like you had a chance against his strong grasp, “i already am, was — from the very beginning, but god, baby. i just wanna live with your pussy in my face forever,” he moans out, removing the black satin material from you slowly. his fingers play with the sticky substance pulling apart, scooping your essence with his fingers and licking it dry, groaning at how good you taste.

your legs clamp at the sight, rubbing your thighs together subconsciously as you feel yourself drip even more. “cheol…” you prop yourself up on your elbows, admiring your boyfriend as he gets lost in your taste.

“open up for me baby, say ah,” he climbs over you, with your panty scrunched up. you obey, eyes hooded with lust and jaw wide open. he chuckles at the sight, pushing your rolled-up panty into your mouth.

“that’s my good girl, gotta prep you before i stuff those pretty panties up your pretty cunt,” he grabs a hold of your jaw, thumb caressing your cheek, “so fucking gorgeous,”

he pumps two fingers inside you, and your moan gets choked up your throat. “can you taste yourself princess? y’look so pretty with your own panty stuffed in that mouth of yours,” it’s embarrassing how easy his fingers slip in and out of you, and he adds a third, then a fourth finger.

“that pretty cunt just can’t get enough of me huh,” the squelching sounds get faster as he moves his wrist at inhumane speed. the rough movements causing the base of his palm to hit your sensitive nub continuously, and you feel like you’re at your breaking point, letting out cries after cries.

your panty is soaked from your choked out saliva, and you feel tears pricking, it feels too fucking good — “wanna cum baby? not yet you can’t,” he coos, but there’s a sadistic tone to his voice, and you know better than to cum without his consent.

words of plea gets muffled behind your panty, your desperation to cum makes cheol so fucking hard, he’s enjoying it way too much and wants to see how far he can push you.

he removes the soaked fabric from your mouth, making sure you’re able to yell out your safeword in case it gets too much. “think this is ready to go in—” he takes the soaked fabric, before stuffing it in your stretched cunt. “here—fuck baby, your cunt’s so desperate for anything, it sucked it righht in,” he chuckles darkly.

you moan at how full your pussy feels, how the material applies pressure to that spot that makes you weak. cheol starts stroking his own length, on his knees, the pretty sight in front of him makes him sigh in pleasure. his head falls back for a minute, “baby—you’re gonna make me cum—just by laying there looking like the most beautiful piece of artwork,”

hearing his words, you reach up to play with your own tits, wanting to stimulate yourself even more. “that’s right baby, play with yourself for me—looking like my pretty desperate slut,” he bites his bottom lip, letting out an animalistic groan, hands eager to chase his own release.

“to-touch me please, need to feel you. please cheol,” you cry out, eager to do anything for him to just fuck you already. cheol moans, sweat dripping down his chest, before shooting his release all over your tummy to your stuffed pussy. “fuuuuck..so fucking beautiful baby, covered with my cum,” a surge of possessiveness overcomes him as he takes swipes of his cum with his fingers, forcing them down your throat.

you suck and swallow eagerly, ever so enthusiastic in showing him what a good slut you are to him. his one and only, only his.

cheol takes the black satin out of your cunt, and looks at your creamy essence that the thin fabric has been doused in. you feel your whole body flush, suddenly feeling so small under him. “nothing to be embarrassed about baby, you’re perfect,” he gives you a kiss—a wet and sloppy one, before flipping you over, grabbing your legs and propping you up on your knees.

”now it’s time for me to reward my pretty baby—for being so good, looking so fucking pretty with her panties filling her up,” he pushes his already hard again length inside you, hands gripping onto your ass so tight to get a hold of himself.

”aarrgh, cheol, so good—so so good,” you feel cold numbing relief wash all over you, heart rate picking up—finally feeling him inside you. gripping your sheets, you arch back, pushing yourself back—greedy to feel more of him.

his strong hands grip onto your hips so tight you can already foresee the bruises in the mirror later, and that does nothing but make you moan even louder. “yeah?” he gives a hard smack across your cheeks, the jiggle making him pound even harder inside you. “look so good bent over on your knees for me, made for me weren’t you,”

“y-yes cheol, fuck—“ he feels that familiar pulse around his cock. knowing that he didn’t let you cum earlier, he knows you deserve nothing but to cum right now. and he also knows that you’re his good girl that will only cum on his command.

”cum. cum for me now baby, remind me what a good slut you are for me, hmm?” he brings a hand to your clit, rubbing tight circles in an insane speed, knowing just what you need to reach your high.

and you snap. seeing stars in front of you, you scream out, and the pleasure bleeds into the pain of cumming so hard—before all you can feel is the gratification of blissful release.

cheol slows down, before pumping himself and releasing himself for the second time all over your ass marked red with his handprints.

you both still for a moment, before collapsing on your backs.

he leans in to give you a peck, “you did so well for me baby, bath time?” you nod slowly, exhausted, reaching your arms up for him to carry you.

roommate turned boyfriend!cheol is always the sweetest; and the nastiest(affectionately) in bed and catching him getting off to you may’ve been the best accident ever!

A/N: my endings are aws…subpar..horrible..ANWS. I HOPE U LIKE IT @ anon,, and i hope i did panty stuffing justice. if u liked it, feel free to like/rb/comment how u felt abt it <3 ALRIGHT I LOVE U GUYS BYE 💋🍒

[inkyami]

As a foreigner, I am curious. What are the main differences between kokoshniks and other types of headresses?

Why thank you for asking!1 First and foremost, kokoshnik is a festive headdress of a married woman. It is essentially a hat and is meant to cover the hair — a huge difference in status (unmarried girls wear a single braid, married women pin hair around the head in two braids and cover it). It comes in an amazing variety of shapes depending on a region, though the south of Russia had their own amazing thing for most of history. We're used to see the ornate arch of kokoshnik, but the back was also very rich.

All the headdresses that have just a front piece and don't cover the top&back of the head would be a venets/koruna etc (wreath/crown) — a headband, a young woman's festive and wedding headgear. Those can also get ridiculously high and wide, but don't provide full coverage. They could also be paired with a braid decoration.

Now, the mixing up starts as early as late XVIII for aristocracy and XIX for everyone else. Thanks to Peter I's "embrace Europe, reject tradition" policy the upper class was pretty much entirely cut from Russian traditional culture. When the "slavic" style came back in trend (several times during wars) it ignored all original symbolism and was heavily changed to fit international beauty standards of the time. By the time of Nicholas II (and yet another wave of slavomania pre-revolution) every court headdress we see is clearly a headband/diadem in its structure but every description states "kokoshnik".

Important note: in 1830s court dress regulations there is still a clear difference between kokoshnik and a headband for married and unmarried ladies accordingly. However, every history text elects to call every headpiece a "modernized kokoshnik" In the latest years the "kokoshnik" (BUT ACTUALLY A VENETS/HEADBAND) became an insanely popular accessory in Russia and is made in tons of materials but in a very limited number of shapes. The results vary from beautiful to silly to atrocious (I'll spare you from looking at patriotic take on the mater). I'd love to wear one, but, to quote marquis de Custine, "it flatters beautiful faces and makes ugly ones even more so"

In short (HA) — kokoshnik is a full-covering headdress for married women. Every young heroine wearing what looks like a kokoshik from the front but sports a braid — wears a venets. Thankfully there are also a lot of artists dedicated to keeping the traditional crafts and garments alive, like Johann Nikadimus who does both replicas and modern designs and never fails to call things accordingly. Its breathtaking and very expensive, just like it was before. About southern kichka headdress

[sha-brytols]

i dont even mind the idea of southern thedas being destroyed like its not like my attachment is hinged on it as a literal concept. its the fact that this information is relegated to like 3 missives and it all happens completely offscreen with very very little acknowledgement of the previous characters we know are currently living there and if they've survived. like it was a complete afterthought.

you can even easily compare this to a similar background bioware subplot and contrast its level of writing and care between them. earth in mass effect 3 right. the player is attached to it not only just by virtue of it being Fucking Earth but because depending on your character's background, you grew up there. earth was also experiencing a widely offscreen planet-wide destruction with characters who you had met and bonded with on the line. the difference however is you as the player are Never allowed to forget this. it's a constant looming shadow over every action and every interaction you make and there is constant news coverage and exposition on how it is doing and you as the player get constant reminders that the planet and the people that live on it are being absolutely destroyed.

in veilguard this information is so easily forgotten even the WRITERS of the story forgot about it and we have characters like harding planning cute camping trips in the hinterlands and your companions are having book club meetings in between missions, like all is fine. everythings fine. the awakening companions may/may not be dead but its fine.

[azdoine]

John is hiding two Resurrection Beasts, not just one.

This was originally going to be a much longer and fancier argument, but I don’t have it in me to dress it up properly, so I’ll just pepe silvia this out

What impact does a Resurrection Beast actually have from within the River?

Answer: an apocalyptic and defining one.

I think we’re all on the same page at this point that Tamsyn Muir loves Foreshadowing Literally Every Plot Twist From As Early On As Is Physically Possible, so for posterity, here’s what Palamedes and Harrow first have to say about the River Bubble phenomenon in HTN:

“You cannot build in the River! It is a dimension of perpetual flux—defined space is nonsense here—you might as well try to wall off time with bricks and mortar.” “Yes. Sort of. But by our very presence in the River, we briefly exert space on non-space. Think of how, when you blow air into water, you make bubbles. The water can’t be where the air is. It’s like the air temporarily enforces its own rules over a localised area.” -HTN ch. 33

The given impossibility of carving lasting form into the River seemingly leads directly into some of the biggest open questions as of the end of NTN - i.e., what is the Tower, how is it related to John’s cosmic imperium, and how has it enabled him to wall off time with stone and mortar after all?

However, this is misdirection. While the River Bubbles created by the presence of Palamedes and Harrow clearly remain fleeting and unstable, NTN explicitly shows us the existence of entities capable of pushing back against the River with far more force.

Pyrrha said, “This is impossible. We should be flayed alive,” and Paul said, “Yeah.” Nona tried to explain. “The water doesn’t want to touch us, that’s all.” Crown was saying urgently, “Judith—stop, come back,” and Nona vaguely heard unbuckling; and then shadows fell over her, people standing behind her seat. The Captain’s voice was like old teeth. “He left them too long—you left them too long, my salt thing.” “You are here,” said Nona, finding talking was hard, that her voice sounded drowsy in her own ears. “Okay, good—the water really won’t touch us. I was worried about our back end [of our truck].” -NTN ch. 30

The possessed bodies of Harrowhark Nonagesimus and Judith Deuteros - both of whom now carry the spiritual influence of Resurrection Beasts in whole or in part - actively function to repel the waters of the River such that Nona worries about min-maxing the coverage of their reality fields. If a human’s presence exerts some space on non-space, the presence of a Resurrection Beast supercavitates against the water.

Kiriona is also extremely explicit that the Tower serves much the same cavitation-function in the space of the River, ameliorating the existence-sapping pull of the waters:

“The ride?” said Palamedes. “Wait. You mean you both dropped through the River? In that shuttle?” “Can’t be,” said Pyrrha, who was watching the Prince narrowly. “Not anymore. You’ve got a soul attached to you, kid … or part of one, at least. John would have had to go with you to stop it being stripped bare.” The corpse prince tilted her head to one side, like a curious bird. “You haven’t been in the River lately, have you?” she said. “What’s that meant to mean?” “Guess you’ll find out at some point,” said the Prince. -NTN ch. 25

Pyrrha sucked in her breath, and she said: “What the fuck is that?” “Told you so,” said Kiriona Gaia. As the megatruck spun around, the wide rippling grey waters resolved into something totally different. There was a big structure standing up out of the River—that water was the River, after all—a tall, cold cylinder of what was unmistakably stone. -NTN ch. 30

In other words, we don’t need to postulate a new category of power to explain the Tower: we can be fairly certain that it’s one of the world-body-layers of an as-yet-unidentified Resurrection Beast, for whom an anatomy shaped like a heaven-piercing tower would make it no more alien than the rest of its peers.

That being said, it’s not a difficult guess at this point to match the anatomy inside the River with the outward-facing creature in physical reality - the Tower’s aesthetics are strongly reminiscent of John the half-RB and his literary cant, but John has been active for ten thousand years, and there’s only one Resurrection Beast who starts waking up at the same time as the Tower rises.

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side    Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,    In her sepulchre there by the sea—    In her tomb by the sounding sea. -Annabel Lee

He said, I didn’t stick my thumb in my mouth. Had more sense than that. Fuck knows what would’ve happened if I tried to absorb you all the way; I probably would’ve burnt to death. But I needed a house to put you in, if I wasn’t going to put all of you in me… He said, From my blood and bone and vomit I conjured up a beautiful labyrinth to house you in. I was terrified you’d find some way to escape before I was done. -John 1:20 (NTN)

Before I get to the question of the relationship between the Tower and the Devils, I want to emphasize the significance of this explanatory stance: the Tower’s existence, as a lynchpin nailed through the unreality of the River, is no different from the influence that Palamedes and Harrow are able to exert in their respective River bubbles.

That is, the Tower is larger, but not qualitatively unique. A RB’s force of repulsion against unreality is exactly akin to a human soul’s repulsion against unreality, and both of them give rise to their respective reality bubbles. “Pushing back on the water” is exactly the metaphor for existence in the River that Palamedes takes for granted, and which Nona and the Tower both exert effortlessly.

And here we have to take a step back and ask: just what in the River is really ‘natural’? Does the subjective reality of the River even have objective features to begin with?

“This is Canaan House,” you said. “Moment of death,” he agreed. You said, “The barrier begins where your line of sight ended. It’s derived from everything you saw.” He said, “And it doesn’t change … the sea is still. It looks like it’s moving, but it’s not—it’s like one of those holographic pictures where turning it up and down lets you see another part of the image. There is nothing here, and that nothing never changes.” -HTN ch. 33

In the dream, they were hiking up a big hill of brown, sun-blasted grass, crunching like paper beneath their feet. Below them the waters were rising, but they ascended without hurry, unpanicked by that bubbling, churning, brown morass… The clouds were strange, and in the far distance, a twister danced on the neon surface of the sea. -John 15:23 (NTN)

In the dream the waters kept rising. They started making a hut at the top of the hill. Bodies were bobbing up and down in the water. He was scared of that—he was always scared of the water—and he made the waters go away for a while, and he raised up some parts of the earth that had been covered by sea. -John 19:18 (NTN)

I would venture a guess that the answer is no - that the organizing metaphor of death as flood waters and rotting oceans is actually being imposed by the expectations and experiences of the undead Alecto, just as Harrow-the-Lyctor exerted a uncontrollable subconscious pull over the world of spirit.

Exactly how many Resurrection Beasts are there?

The first time TLT raises this question, it explicitly lampshades that there’s a loophole in the final accounting for this metric: it wants you to pay attention.

“How many revenants are there?” You prepared for an astronomical number. The Body raised its eyebrows when the Emperor Undying said, “Three. “There were nine. We called them by number. Over ten thousand years, we have managed to take out a grand total of five.” Before you could do anything—exclaim, or question his mathematics, which did not hold up even on first acquaintance—he did something dreadful. -HTN ch. 2

Five casualties plus three survivors is eight, one less than the given total of nine. With the benefit of hindsight from Nona or a little forward thinking from eagle-eyed first-time readers, we know that John is equivocating because he doesn’t want to talk about Alecto, who was neither alive nor dead at the time, and who obviously the missing ninth Resurrection Beast of the Earth.However, Nona gives us another accounting problem:

He said, I took you into myself and we became one. He said, I bit through the sun first. It’s human nature. That started things going. Once you take down the sun, you’re cooking with gas, pardon the pun. I sliced through Venus, Mercury, Mars … by that point a couple of the tugs had already launched through the Kuiper. I had to kill Jupiter and Saturn in a fucking hurry. You and I went full fucking Hungry Caterpillar. We took Uranus … Neptune … crunched down Pluto … found every satellite and craft, reached in, crunched up all the humans, moved on. -John 1:20

John kills ten celestial bodies, not nine - nine planets, plus the Sun. TLT is very clear that stars are alive enough to slay and reanimate with necromancy, and thus that they should properly be alive enough to leave Revenants behind upon their violent thanergetic death.

Moreover, the metaphors and apologetics John clings to in this section - the ways in which he talks around his crimes against the Dominicus - are extremely loaded: he can’t stop himself from equivocating between Alecto and the Sun.

He said, You were screaming. I wanted you to stop, I wanted … I wanted you. I wanted you like a caveman wants a wildfire … or the sun.  I realised you were too much for me. This is the problem, the incorporation, this is the hardest part … It’s the human instinct, to take. He said, As the world went up I remade us both. I hid me in you … I hid you in me. And when we were together … once the shaman had claimed the sun … I became God. He said, I bit through the sun first. It’s human nature. -John 1:20

Augustine is certain that John can’t be drawing any power from Dominicus, and the rest of the story seems largely in agreement with his conclusions. However, John is clearly able to draw power from Alecto’s soul despite the fact that the First House is a corpse. If John were also supping on the dead soul of the sun in order to reanimate the sun’s corpse, that would be entirely compatible with the observed flow of energy from out of John and into the star of Dominicus, and it would resolve all uncertainty about his and Alecto’s absurd jump from Kardashev I to Kardashev II.

Then, the only missing planks of this wild hypothesis are: Why didn’t the Resurrection Beast of the sun flee the Dominicus system with the rest of the RBs? Where could John possibly be keeping a third keystone of his Perfect Lyctorhood? And, doesn’t this make the puzzle of John’s powers more complicated than it really needs to be?

Whence the Sun?

As for the first question, I believe John and Abigail both have their answers for this:

“The only sure way to banish a revenant is to destroy the physical anchor it inhabits before it can escape the shell. Inanimate objects can be destroyed; corpses too, if you remove the brain. But, Harrow, we have other problems on our hands,” said Abigail. -HTN ch. 49

You said, “So if you die, the Houses die with you. The star warming our system fails, and—becomes a gravitational well, as I understand it?” “Yes. A black hole, like the one that took out Cyrus,” he said. -HTN ch. 37

“It’s not that getting rid of the corpus wouldn’t be useful,” said the Emperor. “It would be. When Cyrus drew the corpus into a black hole, Ulysses said that it was the simplest thing in the world to dispose of the brain, that it fell into a dormant state, and he could bring it down to a stoma singlehanded…” -HTN ch. 36

When we see Harrow flip planets on-screen, the process of apopneumatic shock which blows the soul of the Beast from its corpse is not instantaneous. In other words, if a highly energetic system such as a star were to immediately die, its corpse might collapse or detonate faster than its soul could possibly escape through a thanergetic link to another vessel. The Resurrection Beast of the sun may literally be stillborn, severed from its own ties to undeath and left vulnerable for John to seize it - a vast and spiritual world-body lost somewhere within the afterlife.

And there is, in fact, another candidate for this entity - another ‘objective’ component of the underworld that we can map to the ruin of the sun, just as we can map the Tower and the entire aquatic River to Alecto.

“It is the mouth to Hell,” said God. He said, “A genuinely chaotic space—chaos in the meaning of the abyss as well as unfathomable … located at the bottom of the River. The Riverbed is studded with mouths that open at proximity of Resurrection Beasts, and no ghosts venture deeper than the bathyrhoic layer. Anyone who has entered a stoma has never returned.” -HTN ch. 36

Outside—another kilometre down, maybe—was the pale belly of the River, studded with rocky promontories. And right at the bottom—the water was churning. The station tilted forward, and I could see clearly. A hole had opened. It was big enough to swallow up the whole of Drearburh and have room to spare. It was a huge, hideous, dark expanse, and it had seething, weird edges; it took the lights pattering over them for me to see that the edges of the hole were enormous human teeth. Each one must’ve been six bodies high and two bodies wide, with the dainty scalloped edges of incisors. The teeth shivered and trembled, like the hole was slavering. And that hole had nothing in it; that hole was blacker than space, that hole was an eaten-away tunnel of reality. -HTN ch. 52

“They concoct their own vengeance,” said the Captain. “Their justice is not my justice. Their water is not my water. I came to help. I am made a mockery. The danger is upon you, and you do not even know … they are coming out of their tower, salt thing. There is a hole at the bottom of their tower. I will pull their teeth. I will make it blank for you.” -NTN ch. 27

A standard interpretation of Varun’s words is that the Tower itself is as a prison containing the Devils, and there’s a ‘hole’ in the sense of an aperture which now allows them to escape. Yes, but: the hole is specifically attributed to the bottom of the Tower because the spiritual embodiment of the black hole of Dominicus is spatially located at the base of the Tower. The hole is the Stoma, which Alecto has been placed to help seal and tap into - a Tower by definition rises up and over the bottom of the world.

We can say with some confidence, just on aesthetic grounds, that is an extremely strong connection between the Stoma and John’s power. The power of the Eighth House, which “sucks at the Stoma like a teat”, shares a shadow of the intensely oral, penetrating, incandescent burning glow of John’s transcendent necromancy:

As he faded, the pale Silas incandesced. He glowed with an irradiated shimmer, iridescent white, and the air began to taste of lightning. Gideon felt an internal tug, like a blanket being pulled off in the cold. It was a little bit like the sensation back in Response (which was, what, a thousand years ago?)—something deep inside her being prodded in its tender spot. But it also wasn’t, because it hurt like hell. It was like having a headache inside her teeth. -GTN ch. 17

Silas slammed his fists on the ground. The air was choked from Ianthe’s lungs. Her mouth and skin puckered and withered: she stopped, awkward, stiff, eyes bulging in surprise. The remnants of blood rose from the floor as pale smoke, trailing heavenward all around them. For a moment everything was blanched clean and luminously white. -GTN ch. 34

And God said, “Stop.” The world slowed down. You stopped, sitting upright in your chair: your bones somehow rigid and still, and your flesh chilly and rigid around those bones. The shrapnel spray from the Saint of Duty did not stop. But what remained of him stopped too, half man, half rupture—his prurient details hot and white, naked insides clothed with the sinus-drying burst of the power of God. -HTN ch. 25

I’m not sure that John has entered a full Lyctorhood arrangement with a second Resurrection Beast. However, I certainly believe that he’s constantly siphoning the RB of the sun, and that he’s permanently shaped Alecto to help him siphon and subjugate the sun, in much the same fashion that the Eighth House uses its own cavaliers to suck at the Stoma - yet incalculably vaster, for Alecto’s world-soul is both an impossibly vast channel and likely more suited to metabolizing the power of the sun than any other planetary Resurrection Beast.

Likewise, because he has no personal connection to the sun, I suspect John is using it not just as a punitive measure, but also as a proxy to extend his Lyctoral well - he can feed countless billions of people to the stillborn RB of the sun, dump smaller RBs inside, let them render down into an insane soul melange hive - teeming with demonic Heralds bursting to leap free through the first thanergetic link or solar convergence they can find - and capture the energies released by their lysis without having to devalue the meaning of the priceless relationship he thinks he shares with Alecto.

TL;DR - Hell is the ghost of a black hole, John is using Alecto to perform the Penrose Process on it